by Trent Falls
“Open up two.” A semi-familiar male voice spoke.
“Yes sir.” The merc on watch, Curtis, spoke.
The sound of tapping followed. There was a deep clank from the steel bar door a few feet away from Julie as the mag locks released from Dekker’s cell. She could hear the sound of many feet approaching. Cautiously, she took a few steps back from the door to her own cell. Julie watched quietly as a number of tan uniformed mercs filed into Dekker’s cell. They carried a number of plastic bags and a black and yellow cased shop vac.
“Clean it out.” The lead merc, a Xen named Lee, ordered his subordinates. “Dig in every corner. Check the vents. Make sure he didn’t hide anything in here.”
Julie’s heart sank a little. She suspected that something bad had happened. She suspected the worst but was hesitant to ask. Julie approached the bars of her cell, by one step… then another. Lee had his back to Julie. He looked out into Dekker’s cell as his men entered, black plastic bags in tow, to clean out the cell.
“Where…. Where is he?” Julie pushed through her own fear to ask.
Lee didn’t answer. He ignored her.
“Dekker.” She continued in a low tone. “Where is he?”
Lee turned his head to his left, looking with his left eye over his shoulder back at Julie. He looked at her for a moment before answering.
“He’s dead.” Lee answered flatly, returning his gaze forward – away from Julie.
Julie shrank. She took a step back and looked into nothingness in disbelief. She knew Dekker was physically on the verge of dying but she didn’t expect it to actually happen. A part of her expected some miracle to save them all at the last minute.
“No.” Julie could hear herself speak in a weak voice.
“It’s his own fault.” Lee noted. “Dekker had information in his head that could change all of humanity. Earth. Xen. Everyone. Instead he kept it locked away in his head.”
“So you killed him getting it out?!?” Julie asked in a louder voice, clearly becoming upset. A tear streaked down from her right eye.
“The machine didn’t kill him.” Lee answered. “Old age killed him. Old age and being damned stubborn.”
“No! You beating the shit out of an old man had nothing to do with it!” Julie yelled at him.
Lee said nothing at first. He merely looked away and continued ignoring Julie. Julie fell back sobbing. She knew what death was like. She remembered when her mother had died. She thought of how everything in her life had changed. Julie imagined Dekker’s wife and how she might feel knowing her husband was dead. Julie cried; not just for Dekker but for herself.
She missed her uncle John. She missed being home.
Lee turned around after listening to Julie cry for a while. She was further back in her makeshift cell sitting on the bed.
“The information in Dekker’s head could change the galaxy. It could end sickness, cancer, hunger, all of our energy problems. We could clean up the Earth.” Lee noted rhetorically. “We could make our society now look like 19th century Earth by technological comparison.”
Julie continued crying.
“Dekker didn’t want us having this information. He didn’t think we were ready for it.” Lee looked back over at Julie. “We’ll see who’s right.”
Julie’s eyes turned up briefly at Lee. She then looked down again and continued sobbing.
Chapter 17
Night was slowly giving way to day. The unfamiliar surroundings of the Isis forest around John became more defined. He had made good time. The ground of the forest was wet. While the dampness might have made it easier for someone to track him the foliage was fairly saturated, reducing the level of noise he made as he moved quickly over the terrain.
Dark of night was fading to a crisp blue black. John breathed in the cold air. In an insane way he felt very alive. There was nothing like being in mortal danger to bring out the appreciation for life at that very moment. All the same, he focused to remain in tune with his surroundings. He kept his eyes sharp. He paid attention to every sound. He had only been on Isis a few hours so he didn’t have much time to familiarize himself with the typical sounds of that forest on that particular planet. Like Earth, all rainforests were a bit different.
John stopped and knelt down next to the partial cover of a shrub. He knelt on the outside of the direction where he believed the airfield to be. It didn’t matter really. A patrol could stumble upon him from any direction. He checked to see if he was safe then lowered his M10 carbine to the ground at his side. He pulled out the map from his shirt pocket and a small UV flashlight. He checked the map coordinates against the coordinates shown on the navigator comlink on his wrist. The airfield was about a thousand yards ahead.
John quickly put the map away and picked up his trusty rifle. He again scanned his surroundings while peering, not aiming, over the sights of his M10. The area appeared clear. He stood up and continued on.
As he got closer, John exercised more caution with each step. He guessed there would be an infrared sensor fence. In a temperate deciduous forest, particularly one that was wet and damp, it would be difficult to sneak through an IR fence. He hoped, desperately, that if there were a fence it wouldn’t be linked to an autogun defense system.
John guessed, correctly, that they wouldn’t have placed autoguns on the perimeter of the airfield; too much of a risk of the guns shooting their own shuttle.
The foliage parted in front of him, moved aside by his gun barrel. After walking for miles through the untamed forest on an uninhabited alien world, the sight of a brand new grey asphalt runway ahead of him was a strange out-of-place sight. John, cautiously, peered out of the brush and looked down the runway to his left.
About 500 yards away the mercenaries’ space shuttle style transport was parked. Further, he could make out a large forklift, a service vehicle, and three long metal cylinders that comprised the fuel farm. The fuel tanks, based on their design, looked to contain liquid oxygen. John guessed this as the tanks appeared some distance away from the runway, set on their own special slabs. He had seen similar fuel farms offworld, especially on Proxima Centauri Five. Having LOX spill on asphalt was bad news as the potential for an explosion was high.
This, John decided, would be his way in later. He needed to do a bit more recon.
Patrols around the facility were light. John silently moved past the fuel farm. He noticed a merc set on sentry duty at a metal shipping container about fifty yards away. John was able to remain unseen in the overgrowth. He took mental notes of everything he saw, trying to get an idea of the force strength of the mercs in the compound.
The merc John was looking at was lazy. He was Xen; smoking a cigarette and holding the slung G2 submachine gun around his waist as though it was a guitar and he was taking a break at band practice. He looked well-paid and bored. Another Xen soldier called him. John flinched, lowering himself a bit behind his cover. The other Xen merc was simply calling his friend over. The Xen on guard duty stamped out his cigarette and walked away.
John was left with an opportunity. In a low crouch, he hurried on past the metal container, falling back deeper in the woods a bit.
Once beyond the metal shipping container John saw a worn roadway in the dirt far to his right. John followed the road from the tree line, still keeping alert for any potential booby traps. There had been nothing to keep John out. Perhaps the location of the planet in Xen space and its relative obscurity was its only defense. Perhaps Euler’s mercs had no idea anyone would dare try to attack them.
John cautiously made his way up the side of a hill. He hated walking uphill. It was asking for trouble. All the same, he tried to keep the dirt road in his sight while following it up the hill from cover.
There was no one guarding the slope or the top of the slope of the hill. John reached the edge of a clearing set at the top of the hill. Beyond the clearing was a grey stone house. John knew the base of the house was part of the listening station he and Alex had pointed out on the
map. The top of the house was an add-on. John couldn’t figure out why the house was built on top of a bunker. Maybe Euler and his team were planning on retiring there once their mission was complete. Maybe it was holding something else. Based on its level of fortification John guessed that Julie was likely being held in the stone manor.
There were two guards on the roof of the grey stone structure. They were armed with assault rifles and looked about as alert as the perimeter guards. John looked over the structure itself. It was walled in thick grey stone, probably a few feet thick if it was a hardened military structure. There didn’t seem to be many windows. The main entry was a thick steel blast door. He nearly sighed aloud in disappointment at the sight of the door. Getting through it would be difficult. He felt a little better as he noticed there was a card scanner on the wall next to the door. John would need to find someone with a key.
John retreated slowly to the woods. He made his way around the base of the hill, again weary for any patrols or traps. There were none. At the far side the hill became quite steep. John could only go so far as the wet ground and steep slope would have caused him to roll down into the river canyon below. He looked down the side of the steep hill to see small shrubs and moss growing around jagged granite protrusions. It wouldn’t have been a fun descent. The sight of the granite led John to guess at the design of the bunker. The ground had likely been laser cut. Huge slabs of granite had been removed and probably cut up to make the façade of the fake manor. The inner walls of the bunker were likely thick reinforced sections of concrete, separated by seismic buffers. By design, the bunker was probably hardened to withstand an orbital laser strike or a direct hit by a mid-yield nuclear warhead.
John reached the furthest point around the hill where he could walk safely. As he peered to look over around the back end of the structure and the hill he did notice a series of narrow windows extending beyond his field of vision. The windows looked to have bars set behind their thick glass panels. The manner and tone of the discoloring in the glass led John to believe that they were bullet resistant or better.
Then for a second his heart stopped. He saw the long straight hair of his niece Julie. He nearly, foolishly, called her name out. In a second she was gone. She had moved in her cell away from the window.
This was the stockade!
John could only wonder why the cells had thick windows. Perhaps the cells were meant for high-raking prisoners. Whatever the case, John wondered how he might use the windows to his advantage. If he could get the Tequesta close enough, he could blast through the wall or the window and extract her through the wall. Common sense quickly grabbed a hold of him as he realized the level of explosives needed would also kill Julie in the process. And he didn’t have any high explosives. John peered inside the window of one of the nearer cells. He could only make out the ceiling and part of the bar set into the ceiling. It looked as though they might have used mag locks. He could destroy the power generators, but again he lacked explosives. There was also very likely an emergency generator deep beneath the base.
He could risk killing one of the patrolling guards and taking their uniform, but there was a good chance of exposing himself. Getting close enough to use a knife would be difficult and messy. He didn’t have a noise suppressor for his M10.
He could voluntarily be captured and break out from the inside. No. There would be the chance he would be shot in the process of getting caught. He couldn’t allow himself to take that risk.
No, John imagined he would have to break in, perhaps with brute force, and get Julie out.
The fuel depot would provide him the distraction. The tough part would be detonating the fuel farm and getting back up the hill fast enough to infiltrate the bunker.
Time was running out. He needed to act fast. John pulled out his map one last time, still using the steep hillside for cover. He planned his entry. The north side of the hill had a far more gradual slope. It looked to be a fair escape route with decent cover. There also looked to be a break in the trees about a thousand yards north. A thousand yards! It would be a hell of a run. He hoped Julie had the strength for it. He could only pray that the merc forces were light as they appeared to be.
Maybe he would be lucky. Maybe he had enough bullets to kill everyone in the compound with rounds to spare. If that were so he could have Alex pick him up over the house itself. It was wishful thinking, John thought to himself. It was an imperfect plan. If it were a real mission it would be a no-go based on insufficient intel.
This would be the best break John would get, he imagined.
John put his map back in his pocket and made his way back around the hill. He cautiously kept his weapon ahead of him. He took a slightly different path back, going deeper into the tree line in case his tracks to the hilltop were being followed. No one had followed him. He had been in the perimeter of the compound for nearly a half hour and no one knew he was there. ‘These mercs suck!’ he thought to himself.
The sun was getting higher in the sky. The surroundings were getting brighter. It was the worst time to conduct such a risky mission. Shadows would be long. The air was cold and damp, allowing sound to travel further and sound crisper. If he could only hold out until night. If he only had timed explosives. Or grenades. Or even binoculars!
It was then that John heard a mechanical woosh. He turned and looked out from his thick cover at the tree line.
One of the Xen mercs had walked out of the bunker. He wore the same brown jumpsuit uniform the other mercs were wearing. No rank insignia. He had a light submachine gun, a pistol and probably not much else in the way of weapons. As casually as anyone might on their typical workday, the merc walked across the concrete porch and down a short group of three steps. A flatbed transport waited for him a few feet across the damp patchy lawn. The merc hopped in the open air driver seat of the flatbed. He turned a key. The flatbed lurched forward on its electric engine before driving forward smoothly away from the bunker.
It was heading down to the landing strip, John guessed.
John decided to try and take advantage of the opportunity. He headed back down the hill, following a rather steep bank that cut his line of sight from the airfield and the bunker at the top of the hill. He was extremely thankful for the way nature had placed the trees in that section of the forest. John imagined it might have been a better idea for the mercs to have clear cut the top of the hill to have good visuals on the surrounding terrain. They likely didn’t clear cut as it might have exposed them to surveillance from above. In a relatively unpopulated planet a recent clear cut might have attracted scrutiny.
John got to the foot of the hill as quietly and as quickly as patience, prudence, and speed would allow. He spotted the flatbed parked next to some kind of storage shed. The metal entry door was open. The driver from the bunker was likely inside. But how many others might there be inside as well?
John knew he didn’t have much time. He needed to push himself to accept a less than the perfect scenario. The yellow flatbed electric jeep was parked at an angle to the door that allowed him to be obscured on approach.
Like a black uniformed specter of death, John emerged from his cover in a low crouching quick stride. His M10 was held slightly below eye level but aimed surely ahead as he hustled. He got to the door without being seen. He got inside. He angled his weapon ahead of him as he turned low through the doorway.
It was dark inside. The Xen merc was but a few feet away in the darkened shed. John’s gun lowered as he removed his right hand from the grip. In a flash he pulled out his combat knife. By the time the merc turned to see him it was too late. John charged. An expression of pure panic was covered swiftly by John’s left hand. The merc was shoved back hard into a metal storage shelf. The combat knife in John’s right hand was thrust upward into the merc’s heart. In a few seconds the life spilled from the merc. He fell dead at John’s feet.
He was the third person John had killed since leaving the EEF nearly ten years earlier. The third perso
n. John hated himself for feeling like he was becoming accustomed to killing again. It took an incredibly cold heart to end someone’s life.
No! He needed to shut off reasoning. He needed to shut off humanity. He needed to get the job done he had come to do.
John closed the door a little more behind him to keep unwanted attention away from the shed. He had managed to kill the merc quietly. John knelt down over the dead merc and began searching his body. State issued Xen cigarettes. A wallet. John didn’t want to look inside the wallet and cast it aside. Ammo in the pouches on his waist. A small LED flashlight. An access key card in shoulder pocket.
Bingo! John inspected the card to me sure it was the card for the blast door of the bunker. To be sure, John completed searching the body but found little else useful. Quietly, he pocketed the key card and turned back for the door of the shed.
He had been inside the shed long enough for his eyes to adjust. The light that came back in as he opened the door was uncomfortably bright. He was running out of time. He took a quick scan outside to make sure there was no one around before running back for the temporary safety of the tree line.
John silently rushed back towards the hill. Climbing uphill – twice in the same day! He kept his weapon ready for any possible threat. About halfway up John stopped. He looked around again. No threats nearby. He silently thought of his options as he knelt down and scanned his surroundings. His breath was exhaled from his mouth in a visible mist from the cold. Another means he could be spotted!
John trudged a little further up the hill. From his elevation he could just see the tops of the long steel camouflaged LOX tanks. He gauged the distance at roughly a hundred yards. The tanks were a large target; at least their exposed tops were anyway.
Fuck it! John depressed the call beacon on his wristcom navigator.
John then pulled up his M10 to his sight. He aimed at the top of the nearest tank. John took a breath and fired. The crack from his rifle was deafening. Surely someone had heard.
