operation, I don’t appreciate being treated like a kid who missed curfew because I didn’t clear it with every-damn-body first. I am the leader, and it’s my head.”
She kicked a chair because it was there. It levitated a foot off the ground, trembled there, fell with a thump.
“And that’s just the way it fucking is.”
Chuck said nothing until he’d sucked down some of the mango juice and ginger ale he’d grown fond of. “Feel better?”
“Not one damn bit.”
“Too bad. Here’s what I don’t appreciate. Being put in the position of having to think and act like a tight-assed adult.”
He shot out his index finger with its WTF tattoo.
“Then don’t!”
“Uh-uh. I’m there now, and since I am, I’m going to say you can either do a little mea culpa-ing to smooth this out, or you can keep riding that high horse until your nose bleeds from the altitude. You got stuck with leading, well, sucks for you, but a leader who doesn’t respect who they lead doesn’t get much respect back.”
“Damn it.” She wanted to kick the chair again, but she already felt like an idiot. “I do respect them—you—all of them, and especially the Originals. Beyond words. I wasn’t sure I could do it until I was sure, then I needed to act, not take a meeting. And—” She thought of her father’s words. “Two-way street.”
Maybe she would kick the chair again.
“You’re not wrong.”
“So when I— What?”
“You’re not wrong,” Chuck repeated and sucked up more fizzy juice. “We’re not wrong. Give a little, get a little. Plus, I’ve about used up my adult quota for the week. I want to get to this.”
He swiveled to his workstation, rubbed his hands together. And Eddie came in.
“Here’s more,” Fallon grumbled.
“We just wrapped up the spanking.” Chuck winced. “I didn’t mean that in a creepy uncle way.”
“Then I’ll just say ditto. Plus. Dude.” He gave Fallon a light head slap before he turned to Chuck. “Have you picked anything up?”
“I’m about to commence getting started on working on trying to do just that.”
“Before you do, Fred’s been working on something.” He held up a sealed jar filled with dark liquid. “She wanted you to try it out.”
“Okeydoke. What’ve we got?”
“You tell me.” When Eddie unsealed the jar, it let out a hiss, bubbles rose up. When he poured some into a cup, the air above it sparkled.
Chuck took it, sniffed. “It couldn’t be.” Looked at Eddie with what Fallon read as desperate hope. “Couldn’t be. Could it?”
He took a small, testing sip. Closed his eyes—and whimpered a little before he took another, deeper sip. “It’s a miracle. A genuine miracle.”
Popping up, he danced, shoulders bouncing, hips rocking.
“What the hell is it?”
“Taste the miracle!”
Curious, Fallon took the cup, sipped. “Oh, oh, it’s good.” Strong, sweet, unlike anything she’d tasted. It gave her a little head rush. “What is it?”
“Fred’s version of Coca-Cola,” Eddie told her with a grin. “She’s been working on it since we got the Tropics up and going. Your mom helped some, and I’ve been taste testing. I think we got it.”
“It’s better, even better than Coke Classic. Oh, it’s been so long. Come back to Papa.” He took the cup, drank again. Danced again. “Even better. It’s LFC. Little Fred’s Cola.”
“I like it.”
Chuck eyed the jar. “Can I keep it?”
“All yours, dude.”
“I feel tears coming on. Lemme tell ya, armed with LFC, I’m going to rock this job here.” He drained the cup. “Whoa, better take it slow.” He sat again, rubbed his hands again.
Began to work controls.
“These codes you wrote? How accurate?” he asked Fallon.
“As close as I could manage. It’s not my strongest suit, but I know they’re close.”
“Let’s start with the Oval Office. I mean, go for gold if you’re going.”
She waited while he keyed in codes, fiddled, did things she’d never understand. Through the speakers came nothing but a steady electronic buzz.
“Think I see the problem. Another sec.”
He adjusted the code, twice, and the buzz turned into a kind of rumbling.
“Magick-type bugs. This one’s a what again?”
“Leaf.”
“Huh. Organic eavesdroppers. Kick my ass and call me Sally. Give it a little boost there, champ. Just a little. Gonna interface the magicks, get me?”
“Maybe.”
She nudged. The rumbling became a blast.
“Back off—a lot. Just, like, a touch.”
“Okay.”
From blast to a squawk then to a murmur.
“Got it. I got it. You can ease it off. Here we go.”
I’ve had it with this bullshit, Carter.
Mr. President—Commander—if I could—
I said I’ve had it. We’re expending too many resources for too little. I