by John Filcher
This caused a few moments of uncomfortable silence as the officers present internalized the implications. Earth has been governed by the Treaty of Midway for three quarters of a millennium, which had allowed civilization to rebuild from The Fall. The only thing surviving from the world before The Fall that had guided humanity for longer than the Treaty of Midway was the Bible.
Jurgenson shook his head slightly, with a highly disturbed look on his face. “Sirs, we can’t just disregard the Treaty so casually like that. There are protocols and procedures that must be followed, or we could all hang for violating it!”
The eyebrows of both Hobson and Rodding shot up, and Hobson retorted, “Captain, part of the intel package that is accompanying your mission orders details the procedural steps that were taken to withdraw from the Treaty. They were followed to the letter, and the withdrawal has already been formally communicated to the Collective. As best we could communicate it through the chaos, anyway. We’re in a whole new war here.”
Ronin asked the next question. “Sirs, by having our ships jump into orbit around Earth, am I to presume we are no longer worried about keeping the jump drives secret?”
Rodding nodded. “That is correct, Captain. Protection of the planet takes top priority over jump drive secrecy.”
Rodgers couldn’t wait anymore. “Sirs, you referred to the Columbia, and then to the Argos in the plural?”
Rodding smiled, and responded “Columbia is the fourth Cerberus-class vessel. She launched several weeks ago and Captain Jurgenson helped with her shakedown cruises. Columbia has become operational, and is guarding both Argos, now that there are two of them. The Confederate fleet of new jump ships is just starting to expand exponentially.”
The virtual meeting continued for another hour as they discussed situational tactics and the broad brushstrokes of what they might expect to occur. For them, the overarching theme was to be ready for anything because there was no way to predict all the possibilities.
Chapter 28
Force Omega
After hours of sweaty, exhausting climbing, the team had finally reached the end of the tunnel upwards. It was a walled-off platform that clearly looks to have been sealed centuries ago. Thick dust and cobwebs had collected over everything.
Dimitri noted the footprints in the dust. “Our prior scouts left these. They were able to ascertain the location for this platform based on that sign over there,” he said pointing his chin towards the wall. A swipe of a hand had previously brushed away the centuries of dirt and grime to reveal a filthy sign with an ancient form of writing that Longman did not recognize.
“That’s ancient Cyrillic writing again. Hardly anyone left today who even recognizes it, much less can read it,” murmured Pak to Longman.
They glanced at each other, then Longman responded, “It’s like we’re dealing with ghosts down here.”
“Yeah, and practically everything looks the same. A long, dark tunnel extending so far into the distance we can’t see either end. A platform. A sign. We take off in the wrong direction and we wouldn’t know it for quite a while.” Pak stated.
“Da. Old communists were renowned for bland, soul killing uniformity. Here, see this?” Dimitri stated as he brushed off a flat space on the rear wall that Longman hadn’t noticed before because it was behind them in orientation.
The thick dust billowed. Obviously, it had completely hidden the bright red and gold marker underneath. “Is in Cyrillic, but it translates into “Forty-three Station, Nizhny Novgorod.” The red marker with the stop number and above ground geographic location is the only thing to differentiate stops down in this tunnel. If you cannot read Cyrillic, suggest you not get lost.”
They turned around and walked to the wall that sealed-off the platform from whatever was on the other side. “Is unknown what is on other side of wall,” Dimitri said as they looked it over. “We did not risk exposure by drilling through.”
Longman looked over to Guthrey and said, “Omega 3, job opportunity.”
Guthrey, who was carrying what the Marines had informally dubbed a breaking and entering package, was already setting up his equipment to make it happen. He and Omega 4 set up a powerful laser cutting torch while the others stood back to give them room. Soon he announced, “Torch is powered up, beginning test drill.”
Minutes later, the test hole was dug and Guthrey snaked a small, rope-like camera into it. “Wall is two FEET thick. Composition is old bricks,” he reported with some degree of disbelief at the thickness.
At least the ancient bricks wouldn’t be difficult to get through, thought Longman with some relief.
“Appears to be a vacant storage room on the other side,” Guthrey added.
Longman nodded. Turning a walled-off departure area into a storage room because it no longer led anywhere useful made sense. The design of the building would render the area relatively useless for most other purposes.
“Good. We’ll make our entry here. Launch your Butterfly and Wasp drones through the hole to set up a defensive perimeter on the other side, then let’s make a hole we can go through,” ordered Longman.
Guthrey quickly launched some of his Butterfly drones and ordered them to keep watch on the other side. He then launched a half-dozen of his armed Wasp drones. The Wasps were similar to a Butterfly, except that they were able to fire a single high-power laser pulse that would burn the drone out and give someone a very bad day at the same time.
Five minutes passed before Guthrey reported the drones were all on station. “We’re ready,” he said as he monitored his defensive screen.
“Omega 4, begin drilling.” ordered Longman. Berger smiled as he began cutting out the grouting around the bricks with the laser torch. His suit helmet provided the necessary targeting guidance since the laser wasn’t visible to the naked eye. As he cut out each brick to create an opening large enough to allow a suited Marine to pass through, the team quickly removed the bricks.
Thirty minutes passed as they worked in sweaty silence before Guthrey called out a warning that brought everything to a halt. “Contact! One hostile, entering the room. He’s searching for the source of the sounds he heard. Coming closer, target acquired. Firing. Subject is down, life signs negative. Continue with the operation,” he said as he talked the team through the steps occurring on the other side of the wall.
One of the Butterfly drones broadcast an optical image to the team’s helmets showing an armed guard dressed in the Collective’s security service uniform. At the top of his neck where his head used to be, the guard had a smoking stump. The heat had cauterized the wound, so not much blood escaped from the corpse as it collapsed.
Berger resumed his cutting. Two more hours passed uneventfully while the team worked quickly and as quietly as possible. Only two more bodies were added to the tally in the room. One was an administrative flunky who had brought a large box to the room to store it, and never knew what hit her. The other was a guard doing rounds who walked further into the room he had glanced in because there was a burnt smell wafting through the large room that seemed to become stronger the further he walked from the door. Neither survived the Wasp drones.
“We’re through, Omega 1,” called Berger over the commlink node in his exosuit.
“Roger that. Omega, advance by numbers and cover each other. Dimitri and his unit will guard this location. It’s our rally point and exfil route, just like we discussed.”
The team flowed through the storeroom like ghosts. “Hallway is clear,” Guthrey noted as he watched the feeds from the drones, which were now advancing ahead of Force Omega.
Behind them, Echo 6, Julio Gonzales, and the Rabos were moving the corpses out of the storeroom into the formerly hidden platform and fashioned a makeshift wall of boxes so they wouldn’t be spotted by anyone who happened to walk into the room. Gonzales’ well-honed camouflage skills made quick work of the job, and nothing would
appear amiss to anyone walking in unless they got close.
The Marines moved out rapidly, maintaining radio silence now that they were inside the building. Longman quickly noted there seemed to be few people as they found a stairway and decided to climb up a few levels. As the stairs only went up from their level and there seemed to be nobody home and no surveillance systems in use, he surmised they obviously were very deep inside the Kremlin.
After they crept up ten levels or so in complete silence, Guthrey’s voice over the commlink made everyone jump a little bit even though he didn’t speak loudly. “Omega 1, Omega 3. Butterfly drone sensors are reporting high levels of electro-magnetic signals and a heat source on this level. Optics shows multiple armed guards and a kill box down the hall beyond this door.”
Longman looked at the data feed sent by the drones to his helmet. “Armed guards, controlled kill box, buried deep for protection. And a certainty of death if we go with a frontal assault. A nice, high value data center and computing core target. Just our kind of place,” he commented to the rest of the team.
Guthrey quickly responded, “I sent a Butterfly to the next level up. Two guards on duty, no kill box. They look bored. Want to bet we can tap into the data streams flowing up from the core down on the level below?”
Longman smiled a bit in spite of himself. “Not something I would bet against. Omega 7, you up for a costume party?”
Gonzales nodded affirmative, so he quickly exited his exosuit and donned the security uniform of one of the guards killed by Guthrey’s Wasp drone down in the basement.
“Remember, take these guys out quietly. We do any shooting on these levels, and all sorts of alarms will be tripped,” Longman cautioned unnecessarily. Gonzales just looked at him with an obvious “don’t you know what I do?” expression on his face.
While all the Marines were experts in unarmed combat, they chose Gonzales to wear the guard’s uniform by the simple expedient of that it fit him best, and he had a background as a trained assassin. Three minutes later, he was ready.
Pak looked him over carefully. “If they spot the bloodstain on the charcoal gray collar, they’ll take you out. Don’t give them the chance. Strike swiftly, and incapacitate,” he whispered to Gonzales because Julio now didn’t have a helmet on. Pak turned to Longman and gave a thumbs up to signal their readiness.
Gonzales walked up to the door, opened it and walked through. He walked with confidence, doing his best to project an authority he knew he didn’t have. Anything to keep these two guards from becoming suspicious until he was close enough to try to take them out. Despite the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, he thought he could hear the faint whisper of a drone following along.
The two guards looked up as he approached, and they held their rifles in a low ready position. Just my luck these two would be alert enough to be ready for trouble, thought Julio as he waived away the lead guard’s command to halt and identify himself and buy a few more precious feet and seconds.
Appearing as though he were reaching for his identification in a slightly annoyed fashion, Gonzales suddenly lashed out and speared his stiffened fingers into the jugular of the guard who had been reaching out to receive the imaginary credentials. The guard’s eyes went wide and he grasped his neck as he choked and fell to the floor in extreme pain. Gonzales’ first movement had been to spear hand the first guard before continuing with his turn and spinning into a jumping roundhouse kick aimed at the head of the other guard. It was the best he could do given the distance between the two guards. He got lucky and connected with the head of the second guard on a kick that was powerful enough to smash through a couple inches of oak.
Before he finished raising his rifle, the second guard dropped like a bad habit from the suddenness of an assault that left him completely unconscious. Gonzales continued turning, using the momentum of the kick to again face the first guard, who was still trying to draw a breath of air while simultaneously trying to raise the rifle that had slipped from his hand and hung on a sling. Just as he got it in his hands, the guard made a small, surprised gurgling sound and fell to the floor with both hands clasping his neck while thrashing uncontrollably. He died with frightened, unfocused open eyes. While Force Omega quickly ran in, Gonzales unsheathed his hidden K-Bar knife and slit the throat of the unconscious guard.
“What happened to the first guy?” Gonzales asked as he cleaned the blood off his knife, while glancing at the mask of terror on the first guard’s dead face.
“Since he was gasping so much after you throat punched him, I flew a Wasp right into his throat and set it to buzz apart,” said Guthrey in a matter-of-fact manner like it was something he did every day. “Ended him in seconds,” Guthrey added, only now breaking into a grin.
“Sweet mother of pearl, what a way to go!” muttered Gonzales, grinning like a madman. These lunatics were definitely his kind of Marines.
Longman spoke over the team commlink, but had his outside the helmet speaker reduced to a whisper for Gonzales’ benefit, as he was still dressed like a guard from the Collective and was just starting the process of reentering his exosuit. “Omega 3, get eyes on whatever is through this doorway. Omega 2 and 4, rear cover back at the stairs. The countdown clock says we have less than twelve hours remaining until missile launch.”
Everyone’s eyes flicked to the clock on their helmet screens, slowly counting down the time.
“Omega 1, Omega 3. Drones report a hallway, approximately 25 yards in length, ending in a ‘T’ intersection. To the left branch at the ‘T’ there is a maintenance room that is currently unoccupied. To the right is a chamber with a bunch of access panels and nobody around.” Guthrey reported.
Longman was surprised for a moment. “How do you know what each chamber is?”
Before Guthrey could reply, Longman’s AI responded only on Longman’s direct link, “Longman, I’m interpreting the writing spotted by the drones for Guthrey. I can do the same for the entire team if you like.”
Longman thought for a moment, then he responded, “Do it. You might need to use pictures. My Marines can’t read or write in anything more advanced than in crayons.”
The AI unexpectedly responded to Longman’s standard quip. “Will do. I’ll make it simple enough even for Marines.”
Longman wasn’t sure if the AI was playing along, or actually insulting them. He made a mental note to find out later.
Switching over to the team commlink, Longman issued a quick command. “Take the ‘T’ to the right and get us into the room with the access panels. Move out!” The team left Pak and Berger behind as they quickly moved down the hall.
As they moved, Longman discussed the situation with his AI. “How fast can you process that writing you see to help us locate a suitable access to the defense grid?”
The AI responded instantly. “I am already processing using the Butterfly drone video being transmitted right now.” The AI projected an image of the room on his screen, then highlighted three different panels. “I recommend hacking into any of these three access points to upload the virus.”
Longman nodded to himself, and ordered the AI to update the team as they moved.
When they entered the huge room thirty seconds later, rifles covering all the blind spots, the team knew where to go. The nearest panel was about 40 feet into the room. It didn’t take much time before Longman issued the order. “Omega 6, time to upload the package.”
Dale Dannon was already moving and breaking out his toolkit. As the AI guided Dannon with recommendations for removing the panel to find a spot to tap into the system, Longman was holding another private conversation with the AI. “Recommendations on other systems we can hack to cause trouble or help us get out of here?”
The AI had anticipated the questions. “I recommend we access the panels that are being highlighted on your screen. They control the Kremlin’s communication network, artificial intelligence,
internal defense mechanisms, and fire suppression systems.”
Longman called Jason Priest over. “Omega 5, job opportunity.” He sent the information to Priest and told him to get started.
The next hour and a half passed quickly while the team worked. As they completed uploading various viruses and system taps, there was a call from Pak, who had been quiet until now while guarding the stairwell. “Omega 1, Omega 2. We’ve got company!” The sudden sound of gunfire punctuating Pak’s words was carried over the commlink as well as being audible down the hall.
“Omega 1, I have penetrated their defense grid using the codes we obtained from the Shanwei and its command shuttle. I have prevented the alarm from being communicated over their network thanks to the network tap you’ve placed, but they’ve already sent a runner to fetch reinforcements. I won’t be able to interfere with a face-to-face communication,” announced the AI immediately after Pak’s message.
Longman reacted quickly. “Force Omega, exfil immediately!” The Marines ran down the hall towards the stairwell where Pak and Berger were fully engaged in a firefight with the still-unseen troops above them.
“Omega 5, you still got that C4?” called Longman as they ran.
“That’s affirmative, Omega 1,” Priest replied.
“Rig up something to bring down the roof of this hall and block entry to that room with the access panels. You have two minutes to set it up!”
Priest skidded to a stop and scrambled to get it done. “Force Omega, we need to hold them off for two minutes. Hold this location until then!” Priest communicated to Omega.
The stairwell was lit up with intense exchanges of fire, grenades and a few RPGs. Within moments, everyone’s vision was obscured due to the smoke that quickly filled the stairway.
“I’m hit!” cried a pain-filled voice. Longman’s screen identified the critically wounded man as Omega 6, Dale Dannon. A bouncing grenade had managed to land at his feet undetected, and blew his left leg off. The other leg was shredded. His life signs were failing fast despite the suit’s rudimentary medical ministrations and the medical aid being administered by Omega 3.
