by Ricky Cooper
'This is Echo Six, requesting fire mission, danger close.'
The line fizzed and popped as the signal bounced from the relays.
'Echo Six, say again?'
'I want you to burn this god-damned place to the fucking ground!'
Silence reigned for several seconds as the operator pondered his next reply.
'You do accept that you will be in the area of fire.'
'I know it's danger close. I just fucking told you that and I don't give a fuck. Just level the god-damned place. I'm marking the location with an IR beacon. Give me a six hundred metre spread on a three second chain.'
'Fire mission confirmed E.T.A, three minutes'
Baker cut the connection as he sprinted away from the building, clutching the small black box in his fist. The heavy object beeped twice as his fingers moved over it tapping out the codes so deeply etched into his memory that he'd typed them out before he had even consciously thought of them. Clipping the small device back on to his vest he once more pressed his fingers to his throat.
'Any one still on the link?'
Rawlings, Kingsley and Bolton answered as one, their unified calling lending a small measure of happiness to Baker's actions as he sprinted deeper into the fire zone.
'Get to fall back point Charlie. This is going to be a hot one and you don't want to be here when it drops. Get our boys off the field and out with you. They deserve to go home in one piece.'
Kingsley's east Essex baritone rumbled deep within Baker's mind as he ran on.
'And what about you? We ain't leaving without you, Cherry.'
'Don't be fucking daft, you lanky prick. Do you think I have that much of a death wish? It's danger close, not “drop it on my freaking head.” Give me some credit; I do know what I'm doing. Who the fuck trained you?'
Kingsley was silent for a second or two as he mulled over his reply. Only one bubbled to the surface.
'You did.'
Baker smirked; he was certain the others could actually hear the muscles of his face contracting as he spoke.
'Damn right it was me, so don't you think I at least know enough to get the hell out of Dodge before they drop a one hundred and five millimetre shell on my head!'
'Cherry, I said you trained me, I never said you had any common sense.' Baker almost choked on his own words as the sarcastic reply tumbled over him. 'Fucking smart arse.'
With that passing comment, Baker cut the connection and snatched the Infra-red beacon from his vest, launching the small device up onto the roof of the nearest building he carried on sprinting for all he was worth. The pain in his knee was excruciating to the point of blacking out but he pushed through it, drinking in the sensation and letting it coarse through him. He pushed onwards, getting as far from the area as he possibly could.
The AC130 Spectre gunship circled high above them, slipping into a tight pylon turn as the mammoth plane circled the position seeking out its target. With a heavy whirring, the plane jockeyed into position the one hundred and five millimetre M102 cannon, zeroing in on the small flashing beacon two miles below. The Bofors forty millimetre cannon peppered the ground as the flight crew lined up the final shot for the M102, the plane rocked slightly on its axis as the cannon fired. Baker flew through the air as the round impacted behind him. Curling into the foetal position mid-air Baker slammed hard into the floor, dirt cascading around him as he rolled and bounced over the hard compacted rust coloured ground.
Rocks tore at his uniform, streaks of blood covering the ground as he was tossed once more from his resting place. The high velocity rounds from the plane circling above drove ever deeper into the floor, pulverising the buildings that had stood there. Dust coated his throat as he tried to breathe through the thick, cloying, dense mire of dust and dirt that fell over him like a mother tucking in her child. The cloud enveloped him as he began to slowly fade out, the thumping impacts slowly growing dim as his eyes pin holed and the world faded into black.
5
The world about him swirled and shook as he drifted back into consciousness. Baker felt himself drifting; floating through the air his eyes slowly began to focus on the soft blurred shapes above him.
'Ringing.'
He softly muttered, the words lisping and choked as his parched dust filled throat tried to open. Muted voices tried to force their way into his mind but to no avail. All he could hear was a muffled jumbled growl; it drove him insane as he desperately tried to focus on what was being said, but it was a futile act.
It was like trying to listen through Vaseline covered cotton wool; Baker shook his head once more with the same result; nothing came through to him but a muffled distant groan akin to listening to someone scream at you with your head submerged in a bath full of water.
Baker slammed his fist against his head trying to shake loose the tinnitus-like ringing in his ears. The only thing it did was shake the dust from his helmet and beard, the fine granules slipping past his lashes and stinging his eyes. Shaking his head harshly from side to side, the noise washed in, assaulting his ears like a sledge hammer on an egg.
'Fuck; okay, no need to fucking shout, I ain't deaf.'
Kingsley dragged Baker fully upright, running one spade like hand down Baker's back in a half hearted show of trying to smarten up his commander.
'Thought you were for a minute there, Cherry.'
Baker smirked, a small rivulet of blood running from his over taxed nostrils as his sinuses gave in under the deluge of dust and grit. 'You thought, I was deaf' Baker laughed hacking up a lump of grit infused phlegm, spitting it into the dirt beneath his boots he carried on.
'I thought I was fucking dead.'
His blood stained teeth detracted slightly from the coy and cocky grin he plastered on his face to assuage the look of guilty concern on Kingsley's face.
'Don't worry about it Solomon; it's all good; I am in one piece, ain't I?'
Kingsley rubbed subconsciously at the back of his neck.
'Uh, not quite, mate.'
Kingsley lifted his hand and tapped at his left ear. Gingerly Baker raised his fingers and felt around the slowly bleeding gash on the side of his head. Tracing the line with his fingers, he slowly drew them over the gristle covered remains of his left ear.
'Ah, bollocks, Janet's going to fucking kill me.'
Kingsley roared with laughter.
'Cherry, if an AC130 can't do it, then I doubt a London nurse who weighs a buck ten when wet will be able to.'
Baker smirked as a medic sprinted over and slid to a stop. Slowly Baker eased himself down on to a small jutting outcrop of rock and patiently waited for the young Corporal to finish his ministrations. Afterwards, leaning heavily on Kingsley; Baker limped away up the now rubble strewn slope.
'Solomon.'
The onyx-black skinned man stopped letting Baker rest his full weight on his already weary frame.
'Yeah, mate?'
'Janet's a doctor, not a nurse.'
Kingsley smirked pulling Baker sharply making the man wince slightly.
'Watch it, ya fuck.'
Kingsley grinned once more showing sparkling white teeth.
'Don't be a pedantic prick and I will.'
Baker chuckled, shifting some of his weight from his friend's shoulder as he made ready to climb into the Land Rover ahead of them.
****
Bakers eyes snapped open as the plane dropped in altitude, his head bounced off the outer skin as the wheels struck the runway.
'Okay wake up, pack up and stack up; we've got a job to do gentlemen, and that job starts now.'
Pottergate's voice boomed through the now eerily silent plane, the rolling echo was cut through as the semi rhythmic tapping of feet on metal echoed up from the front of the plane.
Heads turned as one, eyes fixing on the figure making his way towards them. His feet rung against the bare metal hull of the plane as he made his way towards the small group of soldiers, his wide muscular frame seemingly gaining in mass the closer he drew
to them.
A wide grin broke across his features as he neared Baker, the dark thatch of his beard parting like the red sea to reveal a set of tobacco stained teeth.
'Derek Baker, you weak piece of English shit; how are you, my friend?'
His thick east Russian accent twisted the words slightly as he spoke, his spade like hand shooting forwards and grasping Derek's in a tight, almost bone shattering grip.
'Fadei, you turnip munching piss head, you know I'm Welsh.'
Baker smiled tightly as he carried on.
'Anyway how are you? Pottergate said you'd be helping out with transport not flying this shit heap. Why didn't you say something sooner.'
Fadei's grin remained strong as he draped one heavy arm across Bakers shoulders.
'Because, you simpleton, I was flying the damned thing. Now how about we go and get drunk.'
Baker laughed out loud for what was to him the first time in a very long period, laughter had been a rare commodity for the unit and was a welcome relief to them all.
Their laughter died off slowly as Baker glanced at the slightly confused faces of the men around him.
'Boys, this is my Russian counterpart Fadei Bogatir. He is leader of Unit One in our Russian brother, the rather crudely named Red Directorate.'
Fadei thumped Baker on the back sending him staggering slightly from the force.
'Always taking the piss, hey, little man? Need I remind you that we are helping you in the clear up of this mess?'
Baker whirled on the balls of his feet the mirth and humour falling from his face.
'Don't give me that bullshit, Bogatir. You know that this is your piss-ass country's fucking fault. The infection spread on your container ship, in your port and has landed in my country's lap thanks to that shit poor excuse you have for a security force. So don't come and piss in my coffee with a bullshit story about you helping us.'
Bolton shook his head slightly as he watched the exchange between the two men. Fadei's bulk towered over Baker who, although six foot three in height, was still several inches shorter than the former GRU agent. Moving to one side, he watched as Fadei threw a right hook at Bakers face, the connecting smack sending the fifteen stone soldier off his feet and into the side of the plane. A soft squeaking noise rolled through the plane as he slid down the aluminium siding of the aircraft.
Pushing himself from the seat he had landed in, Baker charged like a bull. Roaring with anger, he crashed into the side of the gargantuan Russian lifting him off the floor and sending him head first through the wind shield of the Land Rover tied down to the floor of the plane.
The glass exploded, sending small, tinkling crystal like squares of glass cascading over the floor. A loud, cacophonous boom echoed around the aircraft. All heads pivoted towards the source of the noise.
'That is quite enough gentlemen, we have a job to do so lets get on and do it; and please for the love of God, behave like grown men not squabbling children.'
Pottergate's tone left little room for argument and neither did the pistol he had clasped in his hand, which was currently aimed at Fadei's head.
'And if you ever lay a hand on one of my men again, I will personally cut it off and make you watch as I force feed it to your mother; am I clear?'
The massive man mountain nodded as he looked into the unwavering cerulean blue eyes that held his gaze.
'Good, now why don't we all get along and move out? We have a job to do and it doesn't include trying to beat one another to death.'
Baker shot a half-hearted salute at his commander before barging past Bogatir and moving off down the gangway that had been lowered by Rawlings. His boots thumped against the reinforced ramp as he strode out into the harsh snow blown wind of the coastal air base, Fadei was fast on his heels, his face a mask of barely suppressed anger as he wiped away the blood running from his broken nose, smearing the red gooey liquid across his bearded cheek.
A stream of unintelligible Russian spewed forth from the Russian specialist, as he stomped past Baker. A gentle hand alighted on Baker's shoulder stopping him dead.
Turning slowly on his heel, he came face to face with his commanding officer, who with a nod of his head indicated for Baker to step back with him.
'Derek, we found some evidence of what happened to the team in Panjshir.'
Baker's eyes widened, glowing with anticipation. Sitting himself down in one of the seats in the hold, he waited for Pottergate to continue.
'When the AC130 levelled the village we found a honeycomb of tunnels beneath the streets. It seems as if they had at some point excavated the streets and under most of the dwellings to enable them to move stores, weapons and men from one point, to the next without discovery; probably as a way to keep the garrison numbers undiscovered.'
Baker's form slumped in the chair; his hands slowly drifted upwards settling against his face as he rubbed the tiredness from his mind. Grinding the balls of his hands against his eyes as if he could possibly make them feel any better than they did at that second.
'So basically we had no chance in hell of spotting them before they spotted us.'
Pottergate shook his head, as he mulled over the words he was contemplating.
'No, none.'
Derek's world seemed to sink further into the abyss he was so tenuously balanced over, the thin line of his sanity further stretching as his grip ever so slowly weakened, pushing him closer to the final fall he knew in his soul he would soon reach.
'Fine, it doesn't change a thing. It just means that they had us over a barrel and my boys died over some intelligence fuck up.'
Pottergate said nothing as he studied his subordinate. Nodding, he turned and walked away motioning for Baker to follow on. Standing, Baker slowly rolled his shoulders before crouching and picking up his rifle from beside the seat. Straightening up he squared himself and slowly began the march into the cold crisp air that awaited him.
6
Russia
The Omega site
Exact Location Unknown
'Jesus this place smells like a rotting wet dog,' Rawlings stifled the impulse to wretch as Kingsley spoke. 'You would know Kingsley, the only dumb blonde in your life is your damned dog, bloody thing's more territorial than you are.'
Kingsley smirked.
'Trust me Cherry my girl ain't dumb, and she's the best friend on four legs any one could ever want, so on that note; go do one.'
Baker chuckled and walked past his squad mate as Kingsley turned in Fadei's direction.
'Oi, Sputnik, what the fuck you boys been cooking here?'
Fadei turned and glared at the black Englishman before him, a malicious smile playing across his features as he stared at the impassive brown eyes before him.
'You my Negro friend. We cooked you and your kind.'
Kingsley's eyes widened a fraction as he stared at the pale watery green eyes of the Russian before him.
'What, did you just say?'
Kingsley felt a warning hand grip his shoulder as he stepped forwards as Fadei's fingers flexed in the thick leather gloves he wore.
'I said, you deaf nigger, that we boiled your black skinned, spear chucking brothers down and fed their bones to our dogs before we sold the savage laden broth off to the villages east of here.'
The Russian never saw the fist that layed him low. All he saw were the rage soaked eyes of a man bearing down on him and the seventeen inch long blade that descended towards his face.
'Corporal Solomon Kingsley, hold fast and sheath that weapon now!'
Kingsley's blade stopped scant millimetres from Fadei's eye. Chest heaving and eyes aflame, Kingsley, through sheer force of will made himself slowly retract the blackened blade from its course and slide it home into the sheath on his hip. Baker strode across the snow and stood next to his second in command as he gazed impassively down at the prostrate form below him. Fadei's eyes swam with an unreadable conglomerate of emotions but despite this, all Baker saw was a stone cold mask of ridged indifference.
'You are one lucky mother fucker, very, very lucky. If you ever talk to my men like that again, it won't be your hand you lose; it will be your god-damned head. Now get the fuck up and act like a damned soldier, we have a job to do.'
Fadei lay on the floor as he listened to the retreating foot falls of the five men their feet crunching through the snow. It was several seconds before he slowly began to pick himself up from the floor. Snow fell in clumps from his battle dress as he righted himself, a gaze of pure unadulterated hatred bore into the back of Kingsley's head as he began a meaningful trek towards the vehicles parked beside the runway.
Turning, Kingsley glanced over his shoulder locking eyes with the man behind him, an unspoken challenge passing between the two men. Their silence said more than any amount of carefully crafted words ever could. When the time came, things would be settled and both men knew only one of them would walk away from it, but until then, they would do their utmost to ensure both of them survived.
****
The vehicles squealed to a halt, slush filled mud spraying in a soft arc from the wheels as they bit into the ice laden soil that served as an access road.
'No wonder we never found this place. It's in the middle of nowhere, and even that is sat in the middle of fucking nowhere. You would need a map to the map this place was on, and that's if you ever wanted to find it!'
Baker laughed, as Rawlings finished his little diatribe.
'That ain't the reason we never bothered with this place. It's the fact that the Russians thought it was a secret and we allowed them to think that.'
Fadei stoically ignored the comment as he levered his bulky form from the Jeep. Kingsley hopped out from the back of the Jeep, his boots thumping into the ice crusted soil. He gazed around him and sniffed, the salt tang stinging his nostrils slightly as he smirked.
