Legion: V Plague Book 19

by Dirk Patton

He spun to look across the runway, only slightly relieved to still see no threat. Turning back, he and Martinez traded a nervous glance then sprinted past the Russian aircraft. Close up, he could see a carpet of spent brass littering the tarmac and in several places there were long smears of blood, like a fresh kill being dragged.

  Rounding the corner, he skidded to a stop, shoving the rifle he carried into Martinez’s hands. Scooping up a sound suppressed American M-4, he quickly checked and found it was empty. Keeping a wary eye out, he loaded a fresh magazine from his vest and released the bolt to load a round into the chamber. It slammed home loudly and he cringed at the amount of noise.

  “Osprey or helicopter?” he asked Martinez.

  “Osprey’s faster, Hind’s better armed. Need to check their fuel status.”

  She didn’t wait to see if he agreed, just took off for the American aircraft. He followed, constantly scanning around and behind them. They circled it, noting more dropped M-4 rifles that were smeared with blood.

  Slowing as they approached the open rear ramp, Strickland held up a clenched fist to bring them to a halt. Using hand signals that he hoped a pilot would understand, he communicated to Martinez what he was going to do and what her responsibility was.

  He arched an eyebrow in surprise when she nodded and moved into the proper support position. Moving up and into the Osprey, it was only a matter of a few seconds for them to ensure it was empty.

  Martinez pushed past him, rushing into the cockpit. Flipping a couple of switches, she intently watched a cluster of gauges as they came to life. Five seconds later, she turned and flashed a thumbs up before shutting the power back off. Strickland turned to lead the way to the open rear, freezing in surprise when he saw a child standing half-way up the ramp.

  The girl appeared to be six or seven years old and was completely naked. She stood unmoving, watching him with blood red eyes.

  “Coño!” Martinez breathed from behind him.

  The little girl’s eyes shifted to her, then she opened her mouth and screamed, exposing her terrifying teeth. Strickland was rooted in place, staring in horror. Martinez shoved him aside with her shoulder as she brought the rifle up and fired.

  The bullet took most of the infected child’s head off, shattering the small skull and spraying blood and brains across the ramp and tarmac beyond. Martinez and Strickland were both breathing hard and not moving. Until the sound of more screams from outside the aircraft.

  Rushing forward, he kicked the body off the ramp where it had fallen and was starting to turn when Martinez grabbed him and yanked him inside. Slapping an emergency button on a bulkhead, she backed away from the ramp with her rifle up and ready as it went into motion with a whine of hydraulics.

  Strickland didn’t waste time asking what she’d seen. He brought his weapon up and focused on the rapidly closing gap at the rear of the plane. An instant before the ramp fully closed, there were flashes of movement, then it sealed shut. Immediately, the drumming of hundreds of fists started up on the Osprey’s exterior skin.

  “Just what the fuck was that?” Strickland said, nearly shouting. “Did you see the goddamn teeth?”

  Martinez was just as horrified and all she could do was shake her head.

  “Those aren’t kids!” he said in a slightly calmer voice. “Kids don’t have teeth that can rip your arm off!”

  They stood looking at each other, breathing hard for several seconds before Martinez turned and went to the cockpit. After a worried glance at the ramp to make sure it was sealed and secure, he followed.

  Martinez was already at the controls when he slipped into the seat next to her, but she wasn’t getting them ready to take off. Her attention was focused on hundreds of children that were swarming around the aircraft. The screams were loud, even inside the cockpit, and they were beginning to leap up onto the wings and clamber over the top of the fuselage. As Strickland watched with her, she slowly reached out and took his hand, seeking comfort.

  “They’re leaping higher than they are tall,” he said quietly. “What the hell happened to them?”

  “Has to be the virus, but don’t ask me how.”

  Strickland watched them swarm the aircraft for another minute.

  “They took out two squads of Russian Spetsnaz and a team of SEALs,” he finally said.

  “How do you know that’s what they were?”

  “The weapons,” he said.

  “But where are the bodies? All we saw was some blood.”

  “A lot of blood, but I’ve got no idea what happened to the men. You see all that brass?”

  “Yeah...”

  Martinez looked at him.

  “These guys blew through a shitload of ammo before they went down. I can’t believe they didn’t take out a lot of the infected, so where are those bodies?”

  They watched in silence from the safety of the cockpit as the size of the swarm surrounding them continued to grow.

  “Don’t think we’re using any of the base’s comm gear,” Strickland finally said, breaking the silence. “Better get us in the air.”

  She didn’t respond, seemingly hypnotized by the horror show unfolding outside the aircraft.

  “Jennifer,” he said softly.

  Without a word, Martinez released his hand and powered up the Osprey’s controls. It took several minutes for the engines to warm up, then they lifted off, shedding small bodies that crashed onto the tarmac. A few managed to find a grip and Martinez had to rock the aircraft and spin it around to dislodge them.

  “Think the Russians will be flying patrols?” Strickland asked as she pointed them to the west.

  “I know they were a couple of months ago. No reason to think it’s changed. Going to head west into Nevada and follow the Colorado River down. Lots of terrain we can hide in if we need to.”

  He nodded and began looking around the cockpit as she flew. Spying the communications panel, he set to work trying to establish a satellite link with Pearl Harbor.

  “Okay, what am I doing wrong?” he asked after several failed attempts.

  Martinez looked at the panel and checked several settings, none of which she changed.

  “Nothing. It’s like the satellite isn’t there.”

  Martinez pressed a couple of buttons and waited while the system performed a diagnostic. It came back with everything showing green.

  “Russians have any anti-sat capability left?” Strickland asked.

  “I don’t know. But this isn’t good. If comms are down, that most likely means Hawaii is blind, too. They’ll have no idea what’s going on.”

  “So, we’re on our own. Not the first time for me.”

  “No,” Martinez said. “You don’t understand. The Admiral has a failsafe ready to go. If we failed to take out Barinov, he’s planning to level Phoenix. Deny it to the Russians. Now, if there aren’t any comms or satellite surveillance, he’ll have no choice but to assume the worst and accelerate the timing.”

  “Got any good news?” Strickland grumbled.

  “We’re alive and have plenty of fuel.”

  After a moment he gave her a smile and turned back to the comm panel. Reached for a HF or High Frequency radio.

  “Russians can triangulate in on that signal,” Martinez cautioned.

  “See the markings on this thing before we got aboard?”

  “Didn’t pay attention. Why?”

  “It’s from the Reagan. Means there’s an aircraft carrier sitting somewhere within this thing’s flight range.”

  Martinez looked closely at the instrument panel then mumbled softly as she did math in her head.

  “If you’re right, and assuming they launched with full tanks, it’s about four hundred miles off the coast. But that’s assuming they’re due west of Vandenberg and were able to travel the most direct route. If the Reagan is farther to the north or south, then it would have to be closer in.”

  Strickland thought about that for a few moments.

  “So, there is probably a carri
er, somewhere off the southern California coast. And if we try to contact it, the enemy will find us. That about sum it up?”

  Martinez nodded.

  “And the SEALs that disappeared at Vandenberg were probably there for me. For the file. Maybe they had something other than the HF to communicate with, but it’s probably lost with them,” he said, then paused for a beat. “And I’m willing to bet that failsafe you mentioned involves the Reagan.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Not sure I have one,” Strickland said with a sigh. “Just laying out the circumstances. And, to be honest, having second thoughts about what our priority should be. From what you said, this fucking file about the wheat could very well be the difference between survival and starvation for a lot of people.”

  “So, what do you want to do?”

  Strickland slowly shook his head as he thought.

  “What are the odds of being able to find the Reagan?”

  “It’s a big ocean,” Martinez said. “Without either having a pre-arranged rendezvous point or being able to contact them, we’d just fly around until we ran out of fuel and went for a swim. And even if we did get them on the radio, there’s not a chance in hell they’ll reveal their position and risk the Russians intercepting.”

  After a long silence to think about their situation, he nodded his head.

  “Doesn’t sound like we have a choice. Might as well go get our friends.”

  50

  “Sir!”

  Admiral Packard was climbing the steps into the cyberwarfare center when Captain West shouted. Turning, he spied his aide rushing to catch up with him.

  “The SEALs at Vandenberg have now missed two scheduled check-ins,” West said as he joined the Admiral.

  “Odds of equipment failure?”

  “Doubtful, sir. They were equipped with a tight-band burst transmitter. The Reagan put an F-35 up that is on station to receive and relay between them and the carrier. The SEALs also carried a spare unit, so even if one failed...”

  “Understood,” Packard said. “And the team at Point Mugu?”

  “They’ve missed one check-in.”

  Packard frowned, nodding as he absorbed the information.

  “Very well. On my way to see Chief Simmons. Walk with...”

  He was interrupted when Jessica stepped out of the building. She looked at the senior officers in surprise and started to come to attention, but the Admiral waved her off.

  “Stand at ease, Chief,” he said. “News?”

  “No, sir. No news.”

  “Theories?” Captain West asked.

  Realizing where she had been headed, Packard motioned for her to follow and reversed course for the bench.

  “Well, sir,” Jessica began as they walked together. “What I know is that it seems like something has corrupted the operating system on both birds. All that’s functioning normally is the DOS shell.”

  “Excuse me?” West asked in surprise. “DOS shell? As in 1980’s tech on board a multi-billion-dollar NSA satellite?”

  “Yes, sir. Exactly like that. And it’s a better idea than it sounds at first blush. You see, DOS has been around...”

  “Chief,” the Admiral said before she could get fully into a technical discussion that did nothing to solve their problem.

  “Sorry, sir,” Jessica said as they reached the bench.

  Packard lit a cigarette and offered her the pack.

  “Anyway, sirs,” she continued, lighting her own smoke. “As I was saying, it seems like something corrupted the OS. The chances of that happening on two systems that were never in communication with each other is... well, it’s astronomical.”

  “Chief, I’ve heard you say it seems like a corruption. Twice. I’ve gotten to know how you speak and you’re hedging your answer.”

  Jessica looked at the Admiral and smiled.

  “Yes, sir. I am. I think the birds are fine, they’re just under attack. You see, the whole purpose of the operating system is to manage the onboard sensors and optics. And I got to thinking about how to disable a satellite like that without access into the OS or simply blowing it out of orbit. A way to blind and deafen us that is far easier than hacking in or hitting a three-meter square target, seven hundred miles above the earth and traveling at something like twelve thousand kilometers per hour with a missile.”

  “Is there a reveal coming, Chief, or are you trying to kill me with suspense?” Packard asked.

  “Sorry, sir,” Jessica said again. “I think we’re under a denial of service attack, only not in the traditional sense.”

  West and the Admiral frowned at her in confusion.

  “Okay, sirs. The OS isn’t only responsible for managing the optics and sensors, it’s also tasked with processing all of the data they collect. Think of it as both the central nervous system and the brain. And the easiest way I can think of to render it useless is to bombard every sensor with high levels of input. So high that the onboard processors are overwhelmed.”

  “Like trying to run modern software on an old PC,” West said.

  “Precisely, sir!”

  “How would that be accomplished, Chief?” Packard asked.

  “Probably a laser, sir. Could be microwaves, but I don’t believe the Russians possess the ability to keep microwave energy tightly focused over the distances we’re talking about.”

  “How big of a laser?” West asked.

  “The suite of sensors and cameras are so sensitive that it wouldn’t really take that much energy, sir. We’d have to check with an engineer, but from what little I know, it could be something aboard an aircraft or a ship. Or land based. No matter, we’re not talking something with enough energy to destroy the satellite.”

  “If they can render those birds useless, why not just shoot them down instead?” the Admiral asked.

  “There is a big difference between enough energy to overwhelm a sensor and enough to cause physical damage,” Jessica said.

  “Huge difference, sir,” West chimed in. “And if the Russians ever advanced their lasers to that point, we never knew it.”

  “So, all we have to do is locate the lasers that are blinding us and knock them out and we’re back in business. That it, Chief?” Packard asked.

  “If my theory is correct, yes, sir.”

  “How confident are you?”

  Jessica hesitated to answer.

  “I get that it’s only a theory, Chief,” the Admiral prompted, understanding her reticence.

  “Seventy-five percent, sir,” Jessica finally said.

  “Thank you, Chief. That will be all,” Packard said.

  Jessica stood, snapped off a smart salute and hurried off.

  “Russian response to us blinding their birds,” West said once he and the Admiral were alone.

  “I’m worried it’s not as simple as tit-for-tat. I think they’re up to something they don’t want us to see.”

  “Think they know about the herd of infected Nicole is leading?”

  “Maybe,” the Admiral said, voice distant in thought.

  “I went to see Doctor Hironata this morning,” West said when the Admiral didn’t continue his thought.

  “And?”

  “And she’s very anxious to get her hands on the file Chief Strickland has.”

  “If he’s still alive.”

  “If,” West said, acknowledging the point. “She said she and her team have been working to try and come up with a way to harden various food producing plants against the virus. Apparently, gene modification isn’t that difficult, it’s knowing what modifications to make.”

  “Is she optimistic she’ll have success without the file?”

  “No, sir. She is not. She described the work they’re doing as like shooting in the dark. They might get lucky, but don’t count on that happening in time to head off a famine. What the researchers in California who developed the wheat did could be one of several hundred changes. That file should tell her precisely what they were and she’s c
onfident she can duplicate the results. And not just with wheat, but with all manner of fruits, vegetables and grains.”

  “And there would be no need to uproot a million people and take them to a continent overrun with both the enemy and the infected,” the Admiral said.

  “Correct, sir.”

  Packard lit a new cigarette and turned to stare across the harbor as he considered his options.

  “The last we knew, the Russians had removed all of the plants from the experimental farm. We have no way of knowing if Nicole’s still in control of a herd, or if the Russians have already destroyed it. The Colonel is down, possibly dead. Irina and Igor are in Barinov’s custody, and any chances of that gambit paying off are extremely slim, at best. So, we either get that file or we have no good choices. Submit to the Russians or fight our way through to Arizona and try to survive with whatever is left of us after that war. We need that goddamn file, Captain!”

  Captain West remained quiet, knowing the Admiral wasn’t looking for his input, he was just thinking out loud.

  “Very well, Captain. I want every Combat Search and Rescue asset we can muster scouring the last known location for Chief Strickland. And make sure they understand the importance of their mission. If they have to fight their way through the enemy, then so be it. We cannot lose this opportunity.”

  51

  Rachel stood frozen in horror as thick smoke blotted out her view of Viktoriya. Swirling up and around the tubular aircraft cabin, it hugged the surface of each window, almost as if searching for a way inside.

  “What do we do?” Mavis wailed, her eyes wide in panic.

  Staring at the impenetrable smoke, Rachel frantically tried to think of anything she could do but was left feeling helpless and infuriated. If they tried to leave the jet, Viktoriya and the females would kill them. If they stayed inside, they fire would eventually breach the metal skin and they’d be roasted alive. And that’s if they weren’t suffocated by smoke or the flames didn’t touch off the small amount of fuel that must still be sloshing around in the tanks.

  “I don’t know, honey,” Rachel said.

  Mavis stared at her a moment before running and falling to her knees at John’s side. She grasped his shoulders and began shaking him.