Discovery

by Jan Domagala

The smile on the general’s face when he had accepted the wager should have warned him. Now this mysterious team had got past Team Three.

  Quickly running through his mind where each team were supposed to be, he recalled where the missing Team Three should be: at the entrance to Level Ten, right outside General Sinclair’s office.

  How on earth had they got there undetected?

  “All Teams, urgent, leave two men to hold your position, the rest converge on Three’s position,” De Boer said taking out his sidearm, the new Sig P999, the standard issue, and jacked the slide to prime the battery clip then started walking. No team of upstarts was going to lose him a week’s salary but worse still, he was not going to lose face in front of his men. It was just not going to happen.

  He was already on Level Ten. He had been monitoring events the moment the test began on a computer terminal with a bank of monitors that gave a view of the entire interior of this new facility. Not once had he seen even a glimmer of anything untoward. How this team got past Three was beyond him but he was determined to find them and ask that very same question.

  As he entered the corridor from his room it was as he had expected, deserted. All personnel had been evacuated to another level, Level Four, for the test’s duration. The team had started the test on Level Five, one level below. The objective of the test was for the team to get around or neutralise the teams guarding the levels below Level Five and reach Sinclair’s office on Level Ten.

  Up ahead lay the entrance to this Level, a huge elevator shaft with double doors wide and tall enough to drive a ground hauler through. Lying on the ground were the prone forms of Team Three, all four of them.

  Racing over to them, he checked their vitals and was relieved to find they were all okay, out cold, stunned but okay nonetheless.

  “What the fuck happened here?” he asked of no one. “All Teams, where are the men you were sending?” he said through the battle com. When there was no response, he said again, “All Teams, respond.”

  “Sir, all exits are sealed, I’m not sure how but we can’t get to you.” Team One’s leader replied followed by the other leaders with the same result.

  “Holy shit!” De Boer exclaimed as he set off at a sprint for Sinclair’s office. If he got there in time maybe he could head off this team before the deadline.

  On reaching the office door a thought sprang to mind, something that had been nagging at the back of his mind since learning that Team Three was down – where was this new team?

  As the door opened, the answer stood before him.

  “Well, Colonel, it pains me to have to say this but it looks like you lost the bet,” Sinclair said from the comfort of his cushioned chair seated behind his large, ornate, mahogany desk. Standing to attention before him, their backs ramrod stiff and toward him were four people, three men and one woman, the team in question.

  De Boer stepped inside the room in sheer disbelief. He looked at the rigid backs of the four individuals before him, who had not moved since the door opened. As he looked at the General, he noticed he was wearing the broadest smile he had ever seen.

  “Pay up,” Sinclair said still smiling.

  “Certainly, sir, on one condition.”

  “You want to know who they are and how they did it.” It was a statement rather than a question and it was the obvious one to which the Colonel simply nodded in reply.

  “This is Captain Jake Riley, Lieutenants Mack Cooper, Joseph Vance and Angelina Torres. How they did it? I’ll let them explain that,” Sinclair said introducing his new team with more than a little pride.

  Riley turned to face the Colonel and said, “It was relatively easy, sir. I had Lieutenant Vance hack into the security protocols of the mainframe and take command. He accessed the video feeds then had the monitors show continual feed from just after the level was evacuated, altering the time and date code to compensate, making it appear they were showing a live feed. Then we accessed the main maintenance tunnel and while you were watching an empty corridor from a couple hours ago, we were able to sneak up on your men. They’ll be fine in a while, sir; we only stunned them. Once we reached our destination, Vance initiated a lock down to this level.”

  De Boer could not believe what he was hearing and just stood staring open mouthed.

  “Colonel, meet the Wildfire Team,” Sinclair said.

  14

  De Boer finally found his voice and, with some chagrin said, “Good work.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Riley replied suppressing a smile as he sensed the colonel’s discomfort.

  “One question,” De Boer said regaining some of his composure.

  Riley looked at Sinclair as he assumed the question had been directed at him. Sinclair said, “And that would be ‘how’ I assume? How did they get past all the new security protocols that our best tec guys put into place after the OMEGA incident, am I right Colonel?”

  De Boer nodded in agreement.

  “Well, this was a test in two parts; firstly to test the new protocols to see if they were good enough to stand up to any incursion by enemy agents and secondly, to see how good the team was in action. Suffice it to say, that both lived up to expectations, but that doesn’t mean we can be complacent. There could be another OMEGA out there just waiting to strike, and we still don’t know how much of the tec sold to OMEGA was also sold to other terrorist groups, or even the Alliance, so we need to be constantly on our guard. Does that answer your question Colonel?”

  “Somewhat, but I find it hard to understand how you can be so pleased they breached the new security protocols in little over thirty minutes, sir,” De Boer said with a worried frown.

  “It’s what we trained them to do. I’d have been disappointed if they had taken longer. The real test was to see how they fared against other Recon Delta marines, those who hadn’t undergone this special training.”

  De Boer was about to protest but Sinclair halted him with a wave of his hand. “I mean no disrespect to you or your men, Colonel. I have the utmost respect for your abilities and for those of your men. Your loyalty and that of every Recon Delta marine is beyond question but this team has been trained to be better and for now, that’s all I can say. Suffice it to say they passed with flying colours and, as of this moment, they are active.

  “Colonel, I have high hopes for this team, they will be a huge asset against OMEGA or any other threat we may face in the months to come and no doubt you’ll have the opportunity to work together at some point, but for now, I’m sure you want to see to your men. Congratulate them from me on their outstanding performance,” Sinclair explained.

  Realising he’d been dismissed De Boer saluted, turned on his heel and left the office.

  Sinclair sat at his desk still smiling.

  “Well, I think you’ve earned a few days R and R so go on, get the hell out of my office and go have some fun. I’ll see you back in my office, eight am sharp, three days from now,” he said.

  Vance looked at the other two members he knew would relish the opportunity of some time off. “Well you heard the man, let’s move it.” He didn’t bother to ask Riley for he knew he would probably stay on base to get some reading done, or maybe even some extra training. He had often joked that Riley had ‘Government Issue’ stamped on him somewhere, for the man never seemed to be off duty.

  “You coming Cap? Vegas is near here, at the very least we could grab a beer. C’mon Jake, it’ll do you good,” Cooper said.

  “You guys go ahead, I may get some extra time on the test range with the new Sig,” Riley said.

  The new Sig P999 was the latest sidearm issued to all Col Sec operatives, supplied by RandCorp. A smaller, lighter version of the P996 which had just one power setting, ‘maximum’, with a twenty-shot capacity from a fully charged battery clip.

  Since the OMEGA attack, Col Sec had changed suppliers of tec and munitions from MaxCorp, who had also supplied OMEGA, to RandCorp and so far the changeover had gone smoothly.

  “Jake your rating on that wea
pon couldn’t be any higher. I’d lay money on you being able to shoot the balls off a mosquito with that thing, without singeing the damn thing’s legs,” Sinclair said.

  “From how far, sir, twenty paces? I think any further and he might singe the legs. His eyes aren’t what they used to be you know, must be his age,” said Torres to which the other two replied with sombre expressions and nods of their heads.

  “Definitely his age,” Vance said.

  “They only want me along, sir, to prevent them getting into any trouble, and Vance never has any money anyway,” Riley countered trying to maintain the composure a team leader should have.

  “Go babysit your team Jake, have a few beers, get laid, including you Torres. Just get back on base by oh eight hundred, three days from now,” Sinclair said, still smiling.

  “In three days even you should be able to get laid Mack,” Vance joked, slapping his friend on the back.

  “Seeing as how you insist, sir,” Riley said finally giving in. They all saluted then turned to leave.

  “Right you lot, we meet topside in one hour. That should give even you Vance enough time to look presentable. Then we hit Vegas an hour later,” Riley said once they left the office.

  “Look out Vegas, here we come,” Vance laughed at the prospect of three days away from base. They’d had no free time since training began months ago and he for one intended to enjoy himself.

  Riley was the first to reach the surface complex that was Area 15. As he exited the elevator, he wandered outside to taste the cool night air. It was good to get outside and feel fresh air on his face, he thought, as he tilted his head up to take in the slight breeze coming in off the desert. After any prolonged time in enclosed areas, he always had a hankering for wide-open spaces. It wasn’t claustrophobia so much, as a need to breathe real air as opposed to recycled air.

  His blond hair was badly in need of a cut and reached his shoulders, curling over his ears. Being in a Recon Delta team meant, for some, there were special dispensations over appearance. They could be called upon at a moment’s notice to go under cover in any environment and be able to blend in. His training as leader of Wildfire Team had kept him too busy to even think of visiting the camp barber, he literally had no spare time for anything other than a quick shower before training began, and another before collapsing on his bunk at the end of another, eighteen hour day. For that reason alone, he was glad to be getting out. His half-hearted refusal of Cooper’s offer to join them had been made, because it was expected of him. They would’ve suspected an ulterior motive had he instantly agreed.

  Little thought had gone into his attire, he had simply jumped under a hot shower, shaved, and then got dressed in whatever was at hand in his wardrobe. This meant he had on a plain, open-necked, short-sleeved, light blue tee shirt, a pair of light tan chinos and a pair of moccasin-style loafers on his feet. He wasn’t particularly bothered what he looked like, he wasn’t out to catch anyone’s eye, not tonight, not for a long time, not since... but he wasn’t even going to think about that. Tonight he just wanted to relax and chill with his friends.

  “Looking good Jake,” Torres said from behind him. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he had not heard the arrival of the elevator, or the door opening. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her standing behind him, her eyes wandering up and down his body and lingering a little longer than was appropriate on his behind.

  She had her jet-black hair hanging loosely around her face, down to just past her slim shoulders in masses of lustrous waves. Her dark flashing eyes were large and expressive, her lips full and sensuous and her toned body was athletic but not tomboyish, an extremely dangerous mix which more than a few men had found to their regret. Not some air-headed bimbo and definitely no pushover, she met, and interacted with everyone at the same level. Generous to a fault, he considered himself lucky to be counted among the few she called friends.

  When he saw what she was wearing, he knew, that all thoughts of a chilled and relaxing night were just not going to happen.

  A tight fitting yellow top, which had a plunging neckline, displayed just the right amount of cleavage. She wore tan pants that were tight and showed off her curves to great effect. The ankle boots she wore had a small heel so that when she stood next to him, at five feet eight inches, and with the boost from the heels, she could almost look him straight in his green eyes.

  “You too Torres,” he replied actually thinking how amazing she looked.

  “Holy shit Torres, you look fine,” Vance said almost drooling as he saw her.

  “Keep it in your pants Vance, she’s a teammate, remember,” Cooper said as he joined them.

  “Captain, I respectfully request a transfer, effective immediately,” joked Vance.

  “Get real Vance, you know as well as I do, I’d kill you,” Torres said punching him playfully on his shoulder.

  “Might be worth the risk,” he admitted.

  “For you maybe, but think about me. I’ve a reputation to think of, and I won’t lower my standards for anyone,” Torres said smiling.

  “Would it help if I begged?” Vance persisted.

  Putting an arm around her friend’s shoulder she said, “Nope, will you settle for a beer instead?”

  “Guess that’ll have to do,” he replied.

  “Good, let’s go, Jake’s buying,” she said dragging Vance towards the hopper parked just ahead.

  “You do realise, you’ve broken my heart Torres,” Vance said as she pushed him into one of the rear seats.

  “You’ll get over it the second you clap eyes on some of the girls who’ll be out tonight,” Torres said as she climbed in and sat beside him.

  Their banter was always like this, playfully flirtatious, but in reality they were more like brother and sister, more than mere teammates. Each member would lay down their life for the others. It was as simple as that.

  “What do you mean Jake’s buying?” Riley said climbing aboard beside the driver.

  Leaning forward in his seat beside Torres and Vance, Cooper said to the driver, “We’re new in town, take us to the hottest spot you know of.”

  “I know just the place,” the driver said as he took the hopper off the pad and up into the air.

  “How did I know you were going to say that,” Riley said. “Bet it’s the most expensive too, right?”

  “All that heat costs money man,” the driver agreed.

  “Come on Jake, you’re only young once, right?” Torres said smiling.

  Riley sat back and said, “Oh what the hell,” as he resigned himself to go with the flow. He knew that whatever happened, this night would be one to remember.

  15

  General Sinclair was sitting behind his desk working on the reports of the final test that the Wildfire Team had just completed. He was pleased at the progress they had made and he was quite rightly proud of the choice he had made in picking that particular team. Their record in Recon Delta had been exemplary and now he had a hunch they would outdo some of their earlier achievements.

  Things were going well, really well in fact, not just with the team. The RandCorp supplies had arrived on schedule and the upgrades were working fine. As soon as that thought entered his head, he wondered when it would all start to go wrong. Pessimism wasn’t something he adhered to but he did subscribe to Murphy’s Law, which clearly stated that anything that could go wrong would go wrong.

  A smile crossed his lips as the familiar tingle informed him of an incoming call.

  “Here we go,” he said, but then the tingle suddenly intensified as a data burst transmission struck his NI with the force of a close range shot from a Sig P999. The intense pain slammed him back in his chair as the amount of data threatened to overload his neural pathways. Slowly his NI began to unravel and assimilate all the data into some semblance of order and the pain associated with it began to subside.

  As Sinclair began to get his breathing back under control, he started to understand the importance of the transmiss
ion.

  It was from Kurt Stryder.

  Once the full message had been read and stored by his NI, Sinclair just sat at his desk, in shock.

  The fact that Kurt had contacted him was pleasing and shocking in equal measure. Kurt had become more than just an asset, he’d become a friend but after he was brought back from Alliance space he had been a shadow of the man he’d known. In a physical sense he couldn’t believe how well he looked but his eyes had betrayed something far deeper going on. The grief of losing Zara Hardy had hit him hard; that he was well aware of but there was something else, and it was because of this that he had not expected to hear from him so soon. He was pleased to hear from him to be sure but also shocked because he knew for Kurt to contact him so soon the consequences must be dire.

  After digesting the entire message, he knew exactly how dire the situation was.

  Choosing a secure com. channel, he called Milos Sukor, the owner of the Colonial Line. If he wanted to mount an operation to rescue Kurt and the rest of the passengers without causing at least an interstellar incident or at worst, possible war with the Alliance, he would need to keep this whole thing on a need to know basis and that meant absolutely no news media involvement. He would have to run this like any other covert operation with one exception; he would have to involve Sukor to ensure that no one got to know of the incident.

  It was a no win situation, he knew, there was no way he would be able to keep this concealed. A company like the Colonial Line worked on PR. News of this could get out just too many ways. Once it did, the shit would really hit the fan, and it was a very big fan. The consequences of this action had the potential to spread throughout the galaxy.

  Blame would have to be apportioned out but he would deal with that later, now he had a job to do.

  “General Sinclair, what can I do for you, sir? I was just about to leave for dinner,” Sukor said when the call was connected.

  “For a start, sir, you can cancel your dinner plans, we have important matters to discuss,” Sinclair said.