Escape Velocity (The Quantum War Book 1)

by Jonathan Paul Isaacs

  Chris grabbed an empty bowl for himself and dipped a ladle into the pot. He served Wyatt first. The aroma of strange herbs wafted through the air and made his mouth water despite the unfamiliarity.

  “Utensils are there.” Chris pointed to a drawer. “Eat as much as you like. You never know when you’ll get your next meal.”

  Wyatt stirred the stew-like mixture and slurped up a mouthful of vegetables and noodles. The taste of something that hadn’t been freeze-dried made his eyes roll back into his head. Ecstasy.

  The two men ate in silence. Wyatt went back for a second bowl while Chris cleaned his in the sink. The master sergeant folded his arms and watched him eat.

  “I’m sorry you guys got pulled into this mess,” he said.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because it’s not your fight.” Chris glanced off to the side of the room. “You were on a recon mission about space freight.”

  “You don’t know much about RESIT, do you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Wyatt snorted a laugh and put down his bowl. Chris didn’t look like he understood. “Space is a big place. Pretty unforgiving. You can die quickly, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Sure.”

  “And if you’re in trouble, a lot of times you can’t wave your hands and cry for help. RESIT’s mission is to look for trouble. We make things our fight. We stick our noses into places whether people want it or not. Every single one of my troopers is wired that way. No sheep. Only shepherds.”

  Chris rubbed the stubble on his chin while his lip curled up. Green tattoos of ancient battles covered his forearms.

  “Okay.” Chris shrugged. “Marines are the same way. Most people run away from gunfire. We run toward it.”

  “Where were you deployed?”

  “Lots of places. Mars. Africa.” His smile slid away. “Mongolia.”

  “Oh. I’ve heard stories.”

  “Yeah. Bad place. China, North Korea, Russia—two hundred years of nonsense that finally came due. That’s what happens when you don’t address a problem. It just festers.”

  “Truth. How did you get to Juliet?”

  “I guess I just had enough of Earth politics and all the crap. I emigrated. Less people. Less games. Most of your energy just goes into surviving, getting things done. A much simpler life.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “But not anymore.”

  Wyatt nodded. Weren’t his reasons the same for joining RESIT? He had no desire to go back to Earth and its overwrought complexity. For him, fulfillment came from outer space. Solitude. Survival. Such focus was cleansing.

  If only his parents could accept it.

  “I won’t pretend to understand everything you’re going through, Chris. But I get it. I’ll help however if I can.”

  The master sergeant looked thoughtful for a moment. “Come with me. It’s time you met someone.”

  The two men walked down a short hallway to a stairwell at the back of the house. Chris led him up a flight and down another hallway until they stood outside a bedroom door. He rapped on the doorframe with his knuckles. When there was no reply, he turned the knob and pushed his way into the dark interior.

  “Annika?” he whispered.

  Wyatt followed him in. His eyes adjusted as Chris sat down on the edge of a single bed. A small figure was tossing and turning under the sheets. The master sergeant put his hand gently on its side.

  “Annika,” he repeated.

  A small girl popped up from the covers.

  Wyatt guessed she was no more than seven or eight years old. She looked at Chris with confusion for a moment before flinging her arms around his neck. Chris hugged her and made shushing noises.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Another bad dream? It’s okay.”

  Wyatt sighed. It seemed there were enough bad dreams to go around.

  Chris drew back from the little girl and turned toward Wyatt. He spoke softly next to her ear. “I have a guest here, Annika. Can I introduce you?”

  The girl peeked over Chris’s shoulder through tangled brown hair. Her eyes swept over his RESIT uniform until they rested on his name tape.

  “Hi. I’m Wyatt. Pleased to meet you.” He waved at her, but the girl just stared at him.

  “Wyatt’s a friend,” Chris said. “He’s here to help keep everyone safe. You’re going to see him and some of his soldiers around for a while. They’re all dressed like him, so they’re not strangers. Okay? You understand?”

  Annika finally pulled her eyes off Wyatt. She gave Chris a nod before throwing her arms back around his neck.

  Wyatt straightened back up. He felt indecent, like he was somehow intruding on what should have been a private moment.

  Chris rubbed the girl’s back. “I woke you up. You want to go back to sleep?”

  Annika nodded before finally letting go. Chris turned on a small lamp on the nightstand that struggled to fill the room with a weak light. He made a show of tucking her back into the bedsheets and whispering reassurances. Then he led Wyatt back out into the hallway and shut the door.

  “That’s Annika Hewitt,” Chris explained. “The governor’s daughter.”

  Oh.

  “She’s very young. Why did you kidnap her?”

  Chris frowned and motioned for Wyatt to follow him a few meters down the hall. “Kidnap? No. Well … no. Call it protective custody.”

  Wyatt just watched him. Chris grew pensive.

  “We were part of a coup, Wyatt. McManus was giving illegal orders. He told General Hu to exterminate innocent people because their relatives might have constriction. That’s crazy. I swore to protect people, not murder them. We had to stop it. Unfortunately, we lost.”

  “How does Annika come into this?”

  “Part of the plan included securing Hewitt and his family. This was supposed to be a political maneuver. We didn’t want them to get hurt. I divided the security detail into squads and assigned them to different people. I had the governor. After his Saturday security briefing, we pulled him into a room with Hu and placed him under arrest. Hu had orders ready to cascade down to his guys to secure other key personnel. But General McManus was onto us. I don’t know where the breach was in Hu’s op sec, but before we knew it, there were soldiers assaulting the compound.”

  Chris’s face turned dark. “McManus is a bastard. Anybody they suspected of being involved, they shot them. They didn’t discriminate. They didn’t care about collateral damage. One of my squads had Hewitt’s son in tow, Wyatt. Brouard. He was ten. There was a crossfire … McManus’s guys …” He looked down at the floor.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Annika was with her mother. I had a team that was supposed to secure them, but they got engaged en route. I left Hewitt in custody and went to reinforce them. We pushed the government troops back, but when I got to Annika, I couldn’t get her to leave. Her mother had been real sick, Wyatt. You know what? It turns out she had constriction. Can you believe it? Here Hewitt is, ordering death squads into the city, and yet he’s doing the very thing that he claims is so dangerous to the state?” Chris cursed with a few choice words to punctuate his disgust.

  “What did you do with the mother?”

  “We left her the hell alone. I sure wasn’t taking her with us. But we got Annika out. Obviously.”

  “And what about Hewitt?”

  “Yeah.” Chris snorted in disgust. “McManus came in force, stormed the room where we were keeping the governor right after I left. The decision to go get Annika probably saved my life. Cost my Marines theirs, though.”

  Chris glanced back toward the bedroom. His eyes stared into nothing with a look Wyatt recognized well.

  “I’ve spent two years of my life watching after the Hewitts, Wyatt. They weren’t just some assignment to me. They were family. I still have trouble processing all this madness.”

  The hallway stewed in silence.

  What a mess.

  “How much of this does Annika know?”
>
  “She knows her mom was infected. That’s traumatic enough. She doesn’t know about her brother getting killed, or the blood on her father’s hands. There’s no good that can come of it.”

  He took a few steps toward Wyatt until he stood almost uncomfortably close. “Annika’s one of the passengers I need you to take away from here, Lieutenant. Her, and Calista, and Finn. Finn won’t like it. I’ll have to order him to go. But they deserve better. It’s bad here. It’s bad, and it’s going to get worse.”

  20

  Over several days at the safe house, Laramie helped Wyatt and Chris sketch the outline of how to abduct Jack Bell.

  The RESIT team had experience snatching injured crew from damaged spacecraft just in the nick of time, so no shortage of ideas there. Elton provided the insight around staffer schedules and movement patterns. Chris planned the tactical approach using satellite maps and his local knowledge from his role as head of security.

  Now they needed to case the area in person.

  They decided on three teams of two, each with a trooper from RESIT and someone who knew Juliet. Chris and Wyatt formed the command element. Carlos and Sid, one of Chris’s Marines, made the second pair. Laramie and Kenny were the third even though they were both RESIT. That suited Laramie fine. Even though she was a country girl, she knew her way around Juliet, and she didn’t quite believe all the lines Chris and his team kept feeding Wyatt. She’d be happy to stick to their own for this patrol.

  In any event, their flexibility with manpower was about to get worse. Wyatt desperately wanted to find Teo and the Javelin. So after much thought, he decided to send Gavin and Rahsaan on a scouting patrol outside the city. They prepared immediately to head out with one of Chris’s aerobikes.

  Laramie saw Gavin off at 0400. “I want an update when you make contact. Location, status, and mobility. Make sure all transmissions are encrypted. Got it?”

  “Yes, Mom. We’ve done this before.”

  “I know. It’s still my job to make sure you morons don’t get killed. Do a comm check.”

  Laramie pulled one of the few operational CORE helmets over her head. Gavin switched on his mike. “Check, check,” he said. “Battle One Actual, over.”

  “Acid One reads you. Over.”

  “Copy.”

  Laramie removed her helmet. “Good comms. Be careful, Gav.”

  Gavin frowned, his face becoming serious. “I will, Laramie. Relax. We’ll find them.”

  Laramie and the other observation teams prepped for their own departure at 0450. Everyone traded in their tactical gear for the urban camouflage of local garb. Chris and Sid tried to guide the RESIT troopers around how to best mimic current Julietan fashion using the small trove of mismatched clothes they kept at the safe house for disguises. Wyatt donned a business suit that his narrow build didn’t quite fill. Kenny picked some trendy clothes worn by the young crowd. The other troopers did what they could so they wouldn’t stick out.

  Laramie found a set of field trousers and a gray rancher’s tunic. She pulled them on, along with a work poncho that made her feel like she was back home.

  Chris made a quick inspection to make sure nothing looked unnatural. His eyes stopped on Laramie. “You didn’t want the cocktail dress?”

  “Master Sergeant Thompson, there aren’t enough cocktails to get me into a cocktail dress.”

  “Huh.”

  Laramie stopped cold, one boot on her foot, the other in her hands. She glared at him watching her. “I ain’t one of your girlfriends, jarhead.”

  Chris put his hand up. “Fair enough,” he muttered, and moved to inspect the next trooper.

  When the team had finished prepping, they assembled in the front room of the safe house.

  “Okay, ground rules,” Chris said. “RESIT guys, this isn’t outer space. People will be watching. Cameras will be watching. Don’t draw attention to yourself. You’re just regular Venetian citizens going about your business. Relax, act like you belong here. Blend in.

  “We’ve already reviewed mission objectives. You each have your coordinates for your observation posts. Take video footage of your assigned areas around the Department of Health complex. Pay close attention to ingress and egress, police strength, any fixed positions. That’s what we’re going to have to deal with on our next mission.

  “Use these to keep in contact.” Chris handed each of them a small earpiece that clipped around the earlobe. “Audio is via bone induction and will pass along everything you say—no Send key. The transmitter clips to your belt. All teams are to provide sitrep updates in fifteen-minute intervals.

  “The city curfew isn’t over until 0600. Stick to cover and stay out of sight until then. Any questions?”

  Five faces looked back at him, silent.

  “Then let’s get rolling.”

  Chris and Wyatt left first. As Laramie waited for her team’s turn, she passed the time by worrying over her partner, Kenny.

  “You ready for this, kid?”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

  “We’ll take turns grabbing the video when we get into position. You’ll go first while I watch our perimeter.”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

  “I grew up here, so just follow my lead.”

  “Yes, Staff Sergeant.”

  Laramie lobbed more orders at him as she mentally worked out the details of their route. Kenny was a boot trooper on his first deployment. So far she thought he was solid. But how old was he? Twenty-one? Laramie had just turned thirty. What a world of difference nine years made in the experiential learning of one’s life. She wondered how solid this kid would be under fire. Would he panic? Fail to shoot straight? How would he adapt to a recon mission under heavy gee when his limited training had concentrated on inspection and boarding actions in the weightlessness of space?

  She searched his face for uncertainty, any twinge of fear, but found only focus in a pair of youthful brown eyes. Everything would be fine, she told herself.

  When their turn came, they exited through the basement ladder and hiked through a succession of deserted streets and alleyways. The air felt cool and reminded Laramie of growing up on her family’s ranch, waking early to tackle the boatload of chores that came with country life. She loved being outside before sunrise. The crisp air, the solitude, with only Romeo looking down from the sky for company. She glanced up. The brilliant white of the moon peeked back through the rooftops like an old friend playing hide-and-seek.

  She laughed to herself. A friend. She may live and work in space, but Juliet was home. She hoped whatever they learned on this mission would help protect it.

  Dawn came and dispelled the chill around them. By 0700, Laramie and Kenny had slipped into the hustle and bustle of metropolitan commerce. Men and women wearing business suits passed service workers in utilities as everyone rushed to their place of work. Electronic billboards flashed tailored advertisements at the passing foot traffic. Aerobikes and wheeled vehicles mingled with the foot traffic pushing its way through intersections. It was as if a hidden gate had opened and suddenly disgorged the lifeblood of a city populace.

  It almost seemed perfectly normal.

  Almost.

  Police teams were set up at every major intersection, filled with armed men in riot gear who watched carefully into the crowds. Ibex patrol craft circled overhead with a distant whine. She even saw another extermination team activating the drone from their APC, terrifying any passersby as it tromped toward the street on mechanical legs made for heavy gravity.

  Laramie could feel the anxiety from the people around her. Downcast faces moved past them a little too quickly and with a wide berth. Men wearing the clothes of tough, blue-collar professions threw nervous glances at the police patrols. Even the street vendors seemed tentative as they called out to grab a bowl of stew, extra noodles, extra spicy.

  At the corner of one intersection, she pulled Kenny close as they waited for the vehicle traffic to stop. “Everyone seems really nervous,” she wh
ispered. “Try to act the same.”

  Their eyes met, and Kenny gave her a small nod.

  At 0720, they reached the target location for their observation post. Laramie dipped into an alley and spotted a fire escape hung on the side of an old masonry building. They needed to get to the top.

  “Give me a boost, Kenny.”

  The lance corporal laced his fingers together and with a great heave lifted Laramie by her foot. She grabbed the telescoping ladder and pulled it down to ground level.

  “That was easy,” Kenny said.

  “Yeah. Need to teach these people a thing or two about keeping their buildings secure.”

  They climbed the fire escape, flight after flight, until they reached the top of the fifteen-story building. Laramie glanced below to make sure no one had seen them, then swung her body over the top of the ledge. Kenny plopped down a moment later. They crouch-walked across the rooftop until they came to the far edge.

  “Battle One in position,” she said, her earpiece transmitting her report to the others.

  “Copy.”

  “Chemo copies.”

  Across the street, Laramie looked down at a fat, ten-story building with a sleek carbon-fiber structure. Some kind of landing pad for aerial vehicles perched atop the roof. She slipped a pair of binoculars out from underneath her poncho for a better view. Kenny moved alongside her with a small digital video recorder.

  Her heart sank. The police had built a substantial fortification around the building. Razor wire stretched around the perimeter under the watchful gaze of heavy weapons set up in reinforced positions. Manned checkpoints straddled the main entrance. Inside the wire, Laramie saw a service road that seemed to lead to a garage underneath the main structure. An APC with an open drone cover idled off to one side.

  “Wow,” she whispered.

  Kenny said, “Maybe that’s why they don’t care about the fire escapes.”

  “Acid One, any ideas why security’s so tight?”

  “Name it,” Chris’s voice crackled. “Constriction. Protestors. Saboteurs.”

  “Saboteurs like you?”