Shall We Begin

by Jonathan Yanez

  Running, shouting, and working amongst all of these pieces of machinery were a handful of Marines. They carried large power tools, had vehicles up on lifts, and wore welding masks as they performed their duties. In the center of the room, a giant octagon lift rose to the ceiling, with a hydraulic system that raised and lowered the platform. The rail it rode on started on the ground and followed a diagonal line to the ceiling more than three stories above.

  “Pretty cool, right?” Major Lopez said, prying Frank’s attention away from the scene in front of them. “Not everyday you see something like this.”

  “Yeah,” Frank said, noticing the water that dripped from the ceiling where an octagon opening had closed since he had arrived. “I mean, the Russians have something like this, but I’m not going to talk about that.”

  Major Lopez’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Am I?” Frank said, deflecting his true emotions with humor. In all honesty, he was worried what he was getting himself into. He had delivered dozens of shipments of weapons, armor, and tech to the military, but never in a setting like this.

  “Follow me.” Major Lopez motioned to Frank. “The colonel doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Frank fell in line with the major, and the two made their way out of the colossal warehouse room, through a twisting maze of cement and steel.

  It didn’t surprise Frank there were no windows. He understood enough to deduce they were underneath the Hoover Dam in a hidden bunker. Why he was being allowed to see as much as he was, was the thing that bothered him the most. Did they plan to wipe his memory with drugs or something else? Worse, did they plan on killing him? No, then why the black hood at all?

  Hold onto your huevos rancheros, Frank thought. You’ve been in worse jams than this. Besides, no one has made an aggressive move or done anything to make you think they’re going to axe you at the end of this.

  Frank and the major passed a few white lab coated technicians and other Marines on patrol before they came to a stop near a steel door that stood open. The room was once again large, but not as big as the first chamber Frank had seen. This room seemed to be reserved for storage and staging. An enclosed shooting range stood at the far end. Still, the sporadic thud and crack of rifles and the whiz of a piece Frank hadn’t seen previously echoed throughout the chamber.

  In front of Frank were a series of familiar-looking crates stamped with the B.U.T.T.S. pyramid logo. Standing in front of the green crates was a dark-haired, middle-aged man who wore the same tan military fatigues as the major. He was running a hand over the B.U.T.T.S. emblem as if he thought the pyramid might come alive at any moment.

  “Doctor Agarwal.” Major Lopez walked into the room, startling the man so hard, he actually jumped. “I see you got the notice to assemble.”

  “What? Who—I mean, yes. I wasn’t unpacking the goods or anything.” The doctor examined Frank with wide, golden eyes. “Son of a biscuit, man. You’re him, aren’t you?”

  “I’m who?” Frank looked back and forth from the major to the doctor.

  Major Lopez just shrugged. “Better get your bearings on the gear you’ll be displaying. The Colonel is on the way with the rest of the unit, and he’ll be ready for a briefing.”

  “You’re the guy fitting us with the gear and leading us through the gateway,” Doctor Agarwal continued as he gawked at Frank. He extended an open hand. “Doctor Raj Agarwal. Just call me Raj.”

  “Hey, Raj.” Frank accepted the man’s hand and shook it firmly before moving to the crates of unopened B.U.T.T.S. supplies. “I think you’ve got your wires crossed. I’m not leading anyone. I’m just here to give a blow-by-blow with the ordered equipment, then I’m out. I have a date waiting for me, I think … I don’t know, the whole thing is kind of confusing actually.”

  Frank began hefting the boxes, stacking the crates filled with body armor in one pile, while the weapons went in another. The gauss rifles had their own stack, along with the electromagnetic gauss powered sidearms.

  Raj and Major Lopez talked to the side in low whispers. As far as Frank was concerned, he was happy to be left alone with a physical task in front of him.

  Lifting the crates and dividing the gear soon left him with a glisten of sweat on his brow. He removed his black peacoat and went back to work. The crates with the weapons weighed over a hundred pounds, and the ones holding the armor even more than that. But all of this was okay with Frank. Throughout his whole life, he found a kind of sick, soothing comfort when it came to physical exercise.

  In a matter of minutes, he had divided the crates from B.U.T.T.S. into four piles, with the topmost crate open, displaying the contents. Each airtight, watertight case had been lined up, cupping its contents in a bed of egg-crate Polyethylene foam. In order from left to right, Frank had opened the crates holding: diamond steel armor, helmets, gauss assault rifles, and electromagnetic side arms.

  His display in the center of the warehouse looked out of place. All around him, the room opened up to neat aisles of the Marine Corps’ own weapons, before turning into the shooting range. Boxes of ammunition and supplies lined the walls in perfect order as though they were judging Frank’s impromptu display in the center of the room.

  It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. Frank turned as the sound of multiple pairs of booted feet struck the cement floor. A dark-skinned man with a square jaw and cold eyes entered the room, along with five wide-shouldered Marines and a petite woman who looked of Asian descent. She was the only one who smiled at Frank as they entered. Her jet-black hair was pulled back into a low bun, allowing Frank to make out the thin tubes leading into her ears usually indicating hearing aids. It was both a gift and a curse for him to note each detail when assessing newcomers.

  “Mr. Wolffe.” The dark-skinned man came to a stop in front of Frank. He was a few inches taller, and just as muscular. He extended a hand. “I’m Colonel Solomon Breaker. Glad to have you. Shall we begin?”

  We hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far. If you’re ready to continue the adventure you can grab your copy of Into the Breach, Gateway to the Galaxy Book 1 today!