Chapter 530 Storm Warning

Chapter 530 Storm Warning

In orbit above Avalon Island.

Aron’s stealth shuttle had reached apogee and was about to descend. Its target: Shelton, Washington. He called up the reports by the operatives who had been assigned there and began reading them during the short trip.

Jason Todd and Catherine O’Shaugnessy signaled that they had found a cult base a few months prior. Not just a cell, but a full-blown base. They hadn’t been able to infiltrate it, but they were positive that the entire gated community of Hartstene Pointe was a disguised cultist base. Once they had discovered that, they’d opted to lay low and continue their covers as Tim and Siobhan Roberts, fully immersing themselves in their respective roles.

Months later, the call to go to ground had gone out, and the two had been living in their underground facility since. On the surface, they had gone to care for an ailing relative, even going so far as to hire one of their suspected cultists to housesit for them until their return. But instead, they had parked their old truck in the Seatac Airport’s long-term parking garage and returned to their base via their own stealth shuttle, ESV-228-01, now called Bob. There was no rhyme or reason behind why it was named Bob, the two operatives just had a silly sense of humor.

Aron quietly snickered at the name, then continued reading.

The entire town of Shelton was also compromised by the cult. The town council, the chief of police, the two judges in the courthouse, and even the school board had all become card-carrying members of the cult of the progenitor. Thus, during his assault on the cult compound, he would have no backup from the local government, nor any cooperation. The best he could hope for was that they would hunker down and stay out of his way.

[Beginning deorbit burn,] the shuttle’s VI announced. The interior of the vessel was just as stable as if it was sitting in a docking cradle, thanks to the gravity plating, but it had already oriented itself nose down and begun a rapid descent past the Karman Line.

Aron set aside the file and his expression grew grave. He began constructing a rune, one that was similar to the planetary defense shield he had just put in place earlier in the year, anchoring it on the shuttle itself. As it was much, much smaller than the planetary version, it wasn’t nearly as noticeable and nobody even batted an eyelash at it.

[ETA: thirty seconds,] the ship’s VI announced.

The chief opened the drawer and pulled out the false bottom, then picked up the ringing burner phone. Something must have happened; his handlers would never contact him through anything but the secure landline on his desk.

“Aunt Helen’s birthday party is in a few hours. Are you still coming?” the person on the other end of the phone said.

The chief paled for a moment and his heart pounded like it wanted to escape his chest. “Oh! I almost forgot,” he said. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

“Sure, bring a couple cans of baked beans and some beer. The weather’s nice today so we decided to have a cookout instead of taking her to the country club at Lake Limerick for dinner.”

Things were worse than the chief had imagined; not only did the empire know about them, but their strike teams were already on their way. “Okay. I’ll stop by the store on my way and bring a 12-pack of Sam Adams. How many people are coming?”

“Oh, probably twenty or so,” the voice replied.

“Okay then. So two cases of Sam Adams and say... four cans of beans. Got it! Should I come by early to help set up?” the chief asked.

“Sure, be here in an hour and you can help decorate,” the voice replied.

“Alright. See you then,” the chief said, and hung up. He had a lot to do and little time to do it in.