The agents in the woods, - clearly scouting escape routes and watching the cabin from a safe distance – had been spotted when they were still over two miles away from the cabin and monitored right up until the tactical teams had withdrawn. The tactical teams would’ve probably been invisible to the naked eye right up to the point they attacked, Alice had to change the screen to thermal vision for me to be able to see them clearly even after she had pointed them out on the camera feeds.
Alice had been monitoring the comm channels of the assault team since they had been activated, keeping the Spartans perfectly still until the tactical teams were right on top of them had been a stroke of genius. Even after hours of monitoring them, the scout teams had been convinced they were decoys – at least until they fired their warning shots.
There were hints of confusion about the operation from with the ranks of the federal agencies, that remark about bad intel had been repeated a few times over the airwaves, even coming from the agents in charge of whole enterprise. I had expected a bit more of a fight from the assault teams when I ordered them to withdraw, but I couldn’t be sure if Alice had been a bit excessive with the supressing fire or if the doubts about the mission were the main factors in their decision to pull back… maybe a combination of both. But either way, we had bought some time. Hopefully, I could draw out the negotiations for the 32 hours that the artisans needed to complete the escape tunnel.
For the time being, I was sat on one of the sofa’s – looking far more relaxed than I actually felt – as a team of three agents slowly made their way off the dirt road and into the clearing outside the cabin. I was watching closely as Alice’s screen followed the trio via the network of observation Nanites that she had spread around the forest.
The coordination of the team was impressive to watch. Two agents held up large ballistic shields, nervously eyeing the two Spartans that flanked the front door of the cabin, both of them had assault rifles perched on the top of the shield, aiming at the metallic soldiers. They had seen – but were apparently ignoring – the five other Spartans that lined the perimeter of the clearing. Behind them an agent – carrying the radio – was crouched, being careful to stay in the cover that the first two agents provided. They moved as a single entity, almost as if the whole manoeuvre had been practiced in a dance hall rather than in a combat training facility.
“Ok…” I finally said, my voice being distorted into a synthetic, robotic sounding tone before being broadcast to the agents from the Spartans. “that’s far enough. Place the radio on the ground and you are free to leave. You will not be harmed.”
The team stopped, one of the agents holding the shield looked over his shoulder at the man holding the radio and gave a single nod. The radio was placed on the floor and the team started moving backwards, the third agent retrieving the assault rifle that had been slung over his shoulder and providing cover. One of the Spartans stepped off the porch of the cabin and strode across the clearing to where the radio sat, the team froze at the sudden movement.
The Spartan crossed the dozen or so meters of the clearing in a few long strides, his rifle easily distinguishable in the darkness, paused menacingly infront of the nervous tactical team before bending down to collect the radio. His long metallic fingers had barely made contact with the case of the radio when a withering burst of automatic fire erupted from the treeline to the right of the team. The three men dropped where they had stood, bullets tearing into their bodies in the place where the ballistic armour failed to cover.
The Spartan acted in a fraction of a second, He stepped over the team and dropped to a crouch, placing his body between the fallen agents and the gunfire before raising his weapon and unleashing a hail of plasma bolts into the trees.
“Contact, Contact… Team 4 is down!” The federal radio channels burst into life.
“What the fuck!!!” I blurted out, jumping to my feet and looking out of the window at the writhing agents, all of whom seemed to be badly injured, but alive. “Alice! Where did that come from?”
“Long range fire, outside the perimeter!” Alice answered quickly, her face a picture of concentration as she searched for the hidden attackers.
“I thought you were monitoring all the teams? They probably thought the Spartan was attacking the team and accidently hit the them when they fired!”
“No, all teams accounted for and… wait…” Her face frowned, “One of the assault teams is down, their bodies have been posed, they were too far away from the cameras to notice. Thermals are detecting the drop in body temperature… they are dead. There is another team out there…. Found them… 420 meters Northeast… Spartans moving to engage.”
“All tactical teams, agents down. Move to engage, I repeat, move to engage.”
“Shit, they think we shot them!”
“I think that was the idea. The hostile team is moving away, they won’t get far.”
“I want them alive!” I barked, the scale of the treachery dawning on me.
“All of them?” Alice asked the question without asking the question.
“One or two should be enough.”
“And the other tactical teams?”
“They were acting in good faith, non-lethal only”
The sounds of gunfire erupted from every direction; the loud rattle of assault rifles punctuated by the high pitched thuds of the x1s flooded the cabin, the screams of the injured – the stun setting on the x1 was still incredibly painful despite not being lethal – and the distance sounds of orders being shouted across the field could clearly be heard between the ear splitting noise of combat.
“1 Actual, this is scout 8, Team 2 is KIA.”
“Say again 8?”
“Team 2 is down, their all dead. Looks like they were ambushed. Single head shots.”
“Received. All teams, lethal force authorised. Pick you targets and conserve ammunition!”
“This is 3, four of my men are down! Under heavy fire, requesting urgent back up!”
“Team 4, circle left and back up team 3. Stay in cover… Team 4 respond!.. Team 3, I will get back up to you as soon as possible, hold your ground if you can but pull back if you have to… Team 3!...Dammit, answer me!... Smith, get up to team 3 and… Jesus!... Command, this is 1 leader. All my men are down and I have lost contact with all other teams.. we’re getting slaughtered out here! Requesting immediate CSHHHHH”
“Command to 1 actual…. Strider?... Come in 1 leader… any agent, respond… anyone….”
“Alice?” I asked nervously, my stomach turning at the terror in the voices of the men on the radio channel. The sound of gunfire had all but disappeared, replaced with the equally stomach-churning screams of the injured men in the clearing.
“4 members of the hostile team killed, 2 captured. All FBI teams have been rendered unconscious and are unharmed. Although I doubt it looked like that from their perspective.”
I looked out the window to the heap of injured federal agents, a group of Spartans had approached their blood-stained bodies as they writhed in obvious agony and crouched down blocking my view.
“Err… Alice?”
“They are combat drones” she answered simply, “they are administering battlefield first aid. The agents should be fine, although one of them may never walk again.”
My mind was racing. That hostile team had shot the federal agents in an obvious attempt to make us look like the aggressors, that would suggest they fully expected the rest of the FBI and ATF to attack on the assumption we had broken the cease fire. There would be a firefight and – assuming the hostile team knew our combat capabilities – the federal agents would be massacred, that would be all the justification needed to involve the military.
But the hostile team – and their superiors – didn’t have all the facts. They didn’t know about the stun setting on the X1, how could they? Douglas Reaves had been the only person to ever see it before today and he had left that part out of his official report. This whole thing had been a set up.
<
br /> I had to act fast, the hostile team had been neutralised, hopefully before they could report in. The FBI and ATF would be preparing to launch a second assault, either after calling in more tactical teams or using the other agents they had at their disposal – even if that action was only to recover their fallen colleagues.
“Alice,” I turned to the screen having made a decision, “send a column of Spartans to the forward base, send another group out to neutralise the scout team and another group to the main command base. I want non-lethals used on everyone, once everyone is unconscious, have the Spartans collect all the bodies and take them to the command post… carefully. I want to talk to the agents in charge, I think we can earn a small amount of good faith if we show that we haven’t harmed any of their agents.”
“What about the two captured hostiles?”
“are they injured?”
“Yes, one is missing a leg… the other tried to take a on Spartan hand-to-hand, he has a fractured skull and a few broken ribs… they’ll both live.”
“Then keep them conscious. They deserve to be in pain, bring them down to the command post, I’m guessing the agents in charge will want to speak to them.”
“Ok… Spartans on the move.”
“Oh and Alice?”
“Yes”
“Make it quick. The tactical agents will only be out for about 45 minutes, we are five minutes into that already. I want them all waking up at the command post.”
“Consider it done.”
Alice’s mainframe was capable of accessing every piece of information of every kind, on any subject, from any network on the planet – the entire sum of human knowledge was hers to peruse at her leisure. This included the battlefield reports and military manuals from every military force on the planet. It was little wonder then, that the attack against the forward base was a work of military tactical brilliance. There were 47 agents in the post when the Spartans attacked, more than half of them were unconscious before the rest had drawn their weapons. The rest were down before a single agent could radio for help.
The command tent further away in the valley held just 21 agents, the majority of them were lined up in neat rows in the communications tent, a single burst from two Spartans whittled the number of conscious agents down to 2; fortunately, these were the exact 2 agents I needed to talk to. They were confined to the command tent by two Spartans while two more dragged the hostile captives to the field outside. The rest of the Spartans retrieved the bodies of the unconscious federal agents, laying them down in rows outside the main tent’s entrance. Superficial wounds were treated while the bodies of the ambushed ERT team were recovered and laid out respectfully in one of the command post’s support tents.
Thirty-five minutes after I had given the order, my holographic body flashed into existence inside the command tent and in front of the astonished senior agents.
“Gentlemen.” I started, noting their distraught and defeated looking expressions. “Let’s start this as we mean to go on. Please come with me.” Neither men made to move, until each being ‘helped’ to their feet by one of the Spartans guarding them. We stepped out of the command tent and down the aisle of communication equipment and computers of the comms tent, out of the main flap and into the early dawn light.
Both men blinked a few times - their eye adjusting to the sun after hours inside the command tent – before focusing on the rows on unconscious agents laid out on the grass before them.
“as you can see, none of your men were harmed. I told you I didn’t want any unnecessary casualties and I meant it. Your assault was based on incorrect information…”
“Incorrect information!?!” The man wearing the FBI windbreaker spat. “You killed the three agents who were bringing you the radio you agreed to receive!”
“You mean those agents?” I nodded to behind the two agents at the three men hobbling – or being carried – with the support of surprisingly gentle Spartan hands. Both senior agents spun to look back at me, the shock clear on their faces. “Go ahead, you’re free to talk them, they can confirm my story.”
Both men strode over to the procession of waking wounded, nervously glancing at the towering Spartans before addressing their men. “How are you doing, son?” the older man in the ATF jacket asked one of the agents.
“Pretty good, thank you sir, all things considered.”
“Can you tell us what happened?”
“err… not really sir. We had dropped off the radio and were backing out when we were hit. All I can tell you is that it wasn’t these guys,” the agent nodded to the Spartan who was helping him onto a chair, “One of them even stood between us and the shooters, provided cover while returning fire. Gave us all first aid in the middle of the firefight, sir.”
“Your injuries?”
“I’m Ok, won’t be on duty for a while though. Steve… I mean Agent Turner… he took the brunt of it. Got torn up pretty bad, I think they said he was hit in the back.”
“Ok, thank you agent, I’ll come by and see you and the rest of your team as soon as I can”
“Thank you, sir.”
The ATF agent turned back to me, “What can you tell me about Agent Turner?” he asked, the concern for his men was touching, but the tone in his voice told me he wasn’t convinced we were not responsible.
I repeated Alice’s disembodied report – which the agent obviously couldn’t hear – as it was relayed to me. “Agent Turner took 4 rounds in the lower back and upper legs. One bullet punctured his spine between the L3 and L4 vertebrae, severed his spinal cord and lodged in his liver. The bullets have all been removed safely and the damage to his liver has been treated – although he will still require extensive surgery to repair the damage properly. Unfortunately, the severed spinal cord had caused total paralysis below the waist. Without immediate reconstructive and neural surgery, it is unlikely he will ever walk again. The bullet that caused the injury had been bagged as evidence and is currently in Agent Turners right pants pocket.”
Both agents blinked at me. “Err… well… ok then.” The ATF man finally said.
“So, just to be clear,” The FBI agent spoke up, “All of our men are alive and well… albeit unconscious.”
“I’m afraid not,” I answered with a sigh, “One of your teams was ambushed by the same group that shot Agent Turner and his team. I’m sorry to say they were all killed.”
“Let me guess…” The FBI agent growled, his face now twisted in rage at the loss of his men, “… these mysterious attackers vanished without a trace!”
“Not exactly,” I replied calmly “They tried to run, then – when my Spartans caught up with them – they tried to fight. Two are still alive and will be handed over to you… after we talk.”
“After we talk?” The ATF agent asked cautiously
“There are a lot of things you need to know, gentlemen.”
We made our way into the command tent where – over the space of an hour, and while the rest of the agents woke up only to roam around the field under guard – I laid out the full story to Agents Kincaid, Burrows and the new addition of Agent Strider.
I started with Maria and our work at Itek, the development of the solar panels and the encryption software, the threats from the military and the recon team being sent in to spy on the facility – both men looked uneasily at each other as the plausibility of my story dawned on them. Finally, Alice played the full video of Maria’s interrogation and execution – overlaid on this video were the names, service records and classified files of each member of the team who killed my former boss and lover.
Next I moved onto my life at the cabin, the development of the holograms and the Spartans – obviously being intentionally vague about the specifics and leaving Alice out entirely – my investigation into and the other conspirators in Maria’s death, the murder of the three men that led me to Hammond and Reaves and culminated with the attack on the Montana safe house.
Finally, I replayed the Presidents meeting with his
top advisors, discussing this very operation. The casualness with which the three officials discussed potential casualties amongst the federal agents had an obvious effect - as did the use of those deaths to further increase security legislation – but the pieces clicked into place for the two agents when the justification for National Guard involvement was discussed.
“So they were going to use the military to break the siege by any means necessary…” Kincaid mused.
“and that’s who the shooters were, that ambushed team 2 fired on team 4?” Strider finished
I nodded. “I haven’t had the opportunity to question the two surviving members of that team yet, but that would be my guess as well.”
“If this was ever to go public, we would need your witnesses, son.” Agent Kincaid, said, his tone considerably less hostile now that he knew all the facts. His understanding of where this case had come from and the reasons behind the poor intelligence were now much clearer in his mind.
“Morgan Blake and Douglas Reaves are both still with the military, although both have handed in their letters of resignation – General Reaves’ letter in particular should be of great interest to you, if you managed to get hold of it. McCleary and Benson are with the US Marshall Service, all of them should be easy enough for you to contact.”
“There is still something here that doesn’t quite add up.” Burrows announced, after sitting quietly for the majority of my presentation. “Even if everything you’ve said and everything you’ve shown us is true, it still wouldn’t allow for the deployment of the National Guard – let alone having active military units attached to it. That is more illegal than I can even begin to fathom! The hoops he would have to jump through….”
“Such as…” I interrupted.
“Well, for starters, he’d have to declare a state of emergency to even consider deploying the National Guard… he doesn’t have anywhere near the justification to do that…”
The Rise of the Speaker Page 23
