32
Burn Baby Burn
The glass of the Command and Control pod was thick. I hoped it wasn’t bulletproof.
I sat back against the terminal and aimed at the bottom right corner of a glass panel. I unloaded a couple of rounds in a deafening rattle. The glass cracked and splintered into a million tiny fragments, but didn’t break.
“I must be crazy,” I said to myself, pushing up off my feet and running full force at the glass.
I crashed through and fell to the Hive floor, rolling off the impact, a shower of glass cascading all around me.
As I rolled, the floor lit up in disco squares to the sound of a drumroll. Probably a giant neon sign that things were about to go majorly t**s. Yet, I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
“Move it, Dancing Queen,” I said, pushing a boogying Philippe behin
