I hate that Tanq can’t drive a Jet Ski and carry a weapon at the same time, but she’s right; she’s really good at this, and she whips along, zigzagging to compensate for the barge’s slower speed.

I see the wave before I see the tower. We timed our operation so that we’d be on the lake before the dragonflies started patrolling, but I had forgotten the giant wave of displaced water created by the tower when it rose.

It’s huge, at least thirty feet tall, and it will surely swamp the barge and wash away all that precious lighter fluid.

I hear Manny’s voice in my head: Don’t avoid it. Steer into it.

So I aim the barge to hit that monstrosity of water at a perfect, perpendicular angle.

That’s it. Now give it a little gas as we crest the wave.

I hit the throttle a little early, because this ship is slow to accelerate. The wave approaches. The cargo barges ahead of me begin to lift. I clutch the steering wheel for dear life, holding it true.

The barges pierce the top of the wave; they buckle where they connect to the towboat and for a split second we are a V shape straddling the wave.

And suddenly, we’re over, plunging down the other side. The tips of the barges are submerged for a horrible, breathless moment, but then they bop right back to the surface.

I hope it hasn’t taken on too much water, and that not all the lighter fluid washed away. Those troughs are deep, the coal thick, as I discovered when I fell into one. Surely some of it remained dry. At least the propane tanks seem intact.

I cease to worry about all that, though, as the white alien tower looms ahead.

A quick check shows that Tanq and the boys all crested the wave safely. As planned, they speed ahead of me to begin their distraction maneuvers.

But I don’t know what difference that will make or how we ever thought we could do any damage to that thing because it is huge. Watching it on Manny’s camera from the safety of our bunker didn’t begin to do it justice. The tower is taller than any skyscraper I’ve ever seen, and made from a white material that looks like plastic at a quick glance but is most certainly not plastic because it shimmers and shifts in a way I can’t understand. It’s as though the tower is different, subtly changed every time I blink, but I can’t say how.

The top opens, spreading iridescent white petals wide to the sky, and a beam of light thrusts upward, burning a hole in the clouds. It’s unbearable, searing my eye sockets, and I’m forced to look away . . .

. . . only to find three dragonflies winging toward us. No, not us. The Tardis.