A World Jumper

As Alex maneuvered through the bustling city streets in his vintage Camaro, Bumblebee's engine growled in anticipation. Suddenly, the rearview mirror caught Alex's attention, reflecting the ominous silhouette of a 2007 Saleen S-281E Police Car tailing them. With a flicker of concern, Alex leaned closer to Bumblebee.

"One of them is on our tail," he muttered under his breath.

Bumblebee's voice crackled through the radio, a reassuring yet urgent tone cutting through the tension.

"We'll lose them in the maze of the city," Bumblebee assured him.

With a determined nod, Alex tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes flickering with resolve.

"We can't risk a confrontation here," he declared with a steady tone.

As Mikaela's figure emerged from the school gates, her stride determined yet graceful, she slid into the Camaro with a smile that lit up the dim interior.

As Mikaela slipped into the car, Alex's gaze flickered to the school gates, where Sam emerged into the daylight. A fleeting moment passed between them, a silent acknowledgment tinged with a hint of tension. In Sam's eyes, a subtle mix of annoyance and sadness danced beneath the surface as he took in the sight of Mikaela and Alex together.

"Been waiting long?" she inquired, her voice laced with both concern and curiosity.

Alex met her gaze with a reassuring shake of his head, his expression softening at the sight of her.

"No, just got here a few minutes ago," he responded, his voice carrying a hint of relief as he shifted gears.

As Alex pressed down on the accelerator, the Camaro surged forward, the engine roaring in response. He cast quick glances at the rearview mirror, the reflection of Barricade's menacing form drawing nearer with each passing moment. Sensing the urgency, Bumblebee seamlessly assumed control, weaving through the congested streets with the precision of a seasoned racer. Soon he lost Barricade in thr traffic for now.

Meanwhile, Mikaela's gaze drifted to the weathered interior of the Camaro, her curiosity piqued by its timeless allure.

"Why this old Camaro?" she pondered aloud, her tone tinged with a mixture of admiration and perplexity. "With all those cars in your garage, why does this one always take the lead?"

Before Alex could respond, a crackle broke through the radio, a warning cutting through the air.

"That's out of line," Bumblebee's voice interjected, firm yet tinged with a hint of protectiveness.

Unfazed by the interruption, Mikaela's gaze remained fixed on the vintage dashboard, her fingers tracing the lines of history etched into its worn surface. Oblivious to Bumblebee's cautionary words, she simply attributed it to the radio having a technical glitch, her focus was on Alex's attachment to the old Camaro.

"I get it, the Camaro's got a killer engine," she acknowledged, her words trailing off as she searched for an explanation,"But you still have better cars in your garage."

Alex chuckled and explained,"This car is special to me."

Through the radio Alex heard a awe,but Mikaela didn't notice it.

Mikaela nodded and said,"I understand."

While in meeting room, Maggie had already attached to the forthcoming extraordinary briefing had just doubled seeing John here. Settling himself in behind the podium, the secretary John Keller scanned the suddenly attentive crowd, waiting for the conversation to die down of its own accord. Leaning slightly to his right, he whispered to a nearby aide. "A lot of them look—young." The aide nodded sympathetically. "They're the top subject matter experts, sir. NSA's recruiting right out of high school these days."

A pause, then, "It's the abilities that are important, sir— not the age."

"I know," a reluctant Keller replied, "but under the circumstances and given what we're likely to be dealing with here, a little maturity would be—welcome."

"Maturity is not a function of age, sir," the aide reminded him, quoting a favorite childhood book before stepping back.

Straightening, Keller eyed the now-silent and -expectant crowd. There was nothing to be gained by delaying any further. "Please, those of you who can find a chair, be seated. I'm John Keller." He knew he did not have to identify himself further, especially to this group. "Obviously, you're wondering why you're all here. I'll keep it simple. That's all we have time for anyway. These are the facts: at zero nine hundred local time yesterday the SOCCENT Forward Operations Base in western Qatar was attacked. There was no warning and insofar as we have been able to determine, there were no survivors."

Uneasy murmurs filled the room. The secretary's terse announcement affected even those who customarily pro-fessed disinterest in the daily news. Keller noted the effect his words had produced and gave them a moment to sink in. He took no satisfaction in it.

"The rest of the world's going to hear about it in half an hour. You're hearing now. Post-assault analysis has identified the objective of the attack as an attempt to hack the deepest reaches of our military network. We aren't sure exactly what information the attackers were after, but we do know that thanks to quick-thinking and brave action on the part of our on-site personnel, the attempt was stopped during the assault. Which leads some of the more pessimistic and forwardthinking among us to assume the attempt will be made again.

"No one has claimed responsibility, no group, no Internet site, no country. So far our only real hard lead is this." He gestured at another aide, who was standing off to the side of the podium. The aide did something with a remote control.

Muted from its original volume, an unearthly shriek filled the room. It took Maggie less than ten seconds to shift from startled to appalled to intensely curious. Digging her phone out of her purse, her mind racing, she hurriedly entered several short bursts of text, making notes as fast as thoughts occurred to her. Keller went on. "That's the signal that hacked our network. NSA's working at full capacity to analyze it and intercept any attempts to send it at us via the Net or any other medium. I hardly need to tell any of you what the implications of this are for national security."

Leaning forward, he tried to meet the eyes of as many of those in the audience as possible. "But we need your help to find out who did this. You've all shown considerable ability in the area of signals analysis and its related disciplines or you wouldn't be here. I want to add that service in this matter is voluntary. Anyone wants out, now's the time."

He nodded to his left, tersely. "There's the door. Anyone wants to leave or feels they have no choice but to go, aides will be waiting outside to escort you back to your place of work, and no marks of any kind, positive or negative, will appear on your records."

It was dead silent in the conference room. Nobody moved. Near the back, someone tried to stifle a cough. The secretary repressed a gratified smile. "Thank you. We're on a hair trigger here, people. The president has dispatched full battle groups to the Arabian Gulf and Yellow Sea. This is as real as it gets."

Turning to leave the podium, he paused a moment, added a heartfelt, "The clock is ticking. Godspeed and good luck."

The babble of excited conversation that immediately filled the room was energetic but muted. Pushing her way through the crowd and ignoring the queries that were cast in her direction, Maggie struggled to catch up to the departing secretary. He was already out in the corridor, he and his aides and escort heading south and moving fast. An average employee might have been discouraged by all the security. Maggie was anything but average. Or maybe it was the fact that she was sufficiently nihilistic not to give a damn. Seeing the green-haired missile making a beeline for the secretary, an aide tried to intercept her. She juked right, then left, and went right around him until she was striding alongside Keller himself. Preoccupied, he barely glanced in her direction. "Uh, Mr. Defense Secretary."

John sighed and said,"Maggie get to the point."

Swallowing, Maggie said. "Well, I thought right off that the signal sounded like modulated phasing. Like when you plug in a modem, only a hell of lot faster and more sophisticated."

"Yes," Keller said dryly, "I know what a modem is." Unmindful of the sarcasm, she continued. "Well, so, if what I heard was right, and it's just a preliminary guess, mind, it was not just fast. It was faster than anything out there. What I'm trying to say is, it was faster than anything that's even possible."

He nodded. "I assure you it is possible, because it happened. The playback you heard was reduced in volume but real time; no acceleration, no compression. Perhaps one of your team is going to find out how it was accomplished. Oh, and for the record, since you saw fit to make a point of the irrelevancy, it's only your brain we're interested in here."

"This is highly classified, Maggie," he asserted, his words laced with a sense of gravity. "We'll discuss it later. Right now, we need to focus on gathering more information. Alex is already on it."

With a solemn nod, Maggie met John's gaze, her expression reflecting a mixture of determination and understanding.

John's gaze flickered with concern as he considered the impending threat looming on the horizon. He knew time was of the essence, but the delicate balance of secrecy and urgency forced him to shelve his intentions to reveal the truth about the alien robots to Maggie—for now.