As Al lead us all to the weapons storage area – (because of course we have a weapons storage area) – Tsering asked him:

“What is going on?”

If we had a catchphrase, I’m sure that’d be it.

(One day, I’ll make t-shirts.)

Al’s precision focus was always frightening even at the best of times.

This was not the best of times.

So imagine how we felt as he strode down the corridors, talking and walking quickly and methodically as he replied:

“We are being breached. We have been in a state of breach for a while. This should not be possible—”

“Except that this is us we’re talking about,” said Zoe.

“Indeed,” said Al in a manner that, to this day, I swear sounded like a tired gunslinger bitterly used to reversals in fortune.

“How much time before the grid gives out?,” I asked.

Pressing two fingers to his temple and doubtless making supercomputer-like calculations, Al soon responded with:
“Ninety-seven minutes.”

“Christ,” Zowie muttered.

Moments later, we finally got to the door of our deadly cache…