Atlas (The Atlas Series)

by Becca C. Smith

  From the passing glance she just saw coming from Jack, she was out of luck.

  Reason number one thousand why she shouldn’t have let herself get involved with her commanding officer.

  After everyone was suited up the four of them headed toward the Cog, where all the fancy military gear was housed. You had to have a level five clearance just to enter the Cog, and considering that the highest clearance level was six, that was saying a lot. Jack’s team was all given level five clearance, only Jack had six.

  Kala walked second to last in the group order and felt like she was wearing a big onesie. Not only were her hands covered with tight-fitting gloves, but the suit covered her feet as well. To top it off, their suits had face hugging hoods currently hanging behind their necks. With no heavy shoes, the four of them hardly made a noise as they walked through the black metal hallways toward their destination.

  They reached the double doors of the Cog a few minutes later. The four stood in front of the doors and a holographic wall shot up in front of them like it did for Kala and Derek on the elevator. It scanned each person individually, their profiles rotating in front of them, until they were all cleared for passage.

  The black doors silently slid open.

  The Cog. Home for every imaginable and unimaginable piece of military gear owned and invented by the government.

  Kala knew that one of the head honchos of the whole compound, General Geoffrey Turner, was responsible for it all. He and his partner, General Harry Clifton, started the secret OPS program years ago and were pretty much given free reign to do whatever was needed to protect the country. Kala had never met General Turner, but she had heard stories of his greatness. Turner had been a Seal himself, so Kala always felt a little extra pride that they had once been a part of the same team. General Turner basically scoured the earth for the best and brightest and he was pretty much allowed access to whatever he needed to use for experimentation. The results were astounding, the phase-suit being Turner’s greatest accomplishment so far.

  The Cog itself was a giant circle with smooth walls. Upon first glance the room appeared empty. Its black marble floor was the only reflective surface in the space.

  Next to the door, Jack typed into a small panel.

  A piece of the flat wall opened up and a metal rod with four phase-suits slid outward. Kala was always a little disappointed at not being able to find out what lay beyond the surface of the walls. She had only seen about a quarter of the high-tech inventions that were stored in the Cog. Kala wished she could spend a day exploring everything in there, but only Generals Turner and Clifton had that kind of clearance.

  Kala walked with the others to the phase-suits and took hers off the rack. Phase-suits were lighter than they looked, but still weighed at least five pounds. They were constructed with a thick charcoal grey material that made the uniforms ideal for night missions. The cloth felt almost rubbery to the touch, but the surface was smooth. It was one piece that zipped up all the way to the top. Like the black undersuit, a hood made up of a mesh version of the phase-material dangled on the back. It covered the entire head, snapping into place around the neck so no area was exposed, but still making it possible to see.

  The second part of the suits was the most important to Kala: the vests. This was where the guns were stored. Kala threw hers on and neatly tucked her two side arms into the inside of the vest. Not her beloved sniper rifle, but with this kind of mission, Kala had to settle for handguns. Kala hated these type of jobs. Phase-suits meant up close and personal and Kala much preferred aiming out a window at a target hundreds of feet away. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take care of herself. Kala held her own. It was more that she liked to observe and prepare for all possible outcomes. Hand-to-hand missions were the equivalent of a smash-and-grab to a thug. Sloppy. Kala hated sloppy.

  It meant more things could go wrong.

  Chapter Three

  Kala and the team quickly finished suiting up. Once fully dressed, Kala shuddered to think of how, if anyone ran across her unit in a dark alley, they’d run screaming. The team was quite an intimidating vision, and without being able to see their faces, Kala thought they looked a little bit like an invasion force of aliens.

  Jack led the team to the hangar deck where a stealth carrier awaited them. Within the darkness of night and the dimly lit space, Kala had to squint, trying to peer through the mesh of her hood and see the ship better. Smooth black matte metal made up the surface of the airplane. Though the wings and nose of the plane were slick and aerodynamic, the “carrier” part made the plane look like a pregnant fighter jet. Hydraulic hinges opened the mouth of the beast, acting as a ramp for Kala and the others. Right up the fat belly, Kala entered the ship and quickly strapped herself in the row of seats bolted into the side of the plane’s wall. There was an identical row of seats across from her in which Lali and Jack strapped in. Derek sat next to Kala like a pillar of hardened stone.

  Kala took a deep breath as the metal walkway shut closed. As the carrier was taxiing out of the hangar and onto the runway, Kala tried to stay as calm as possible. The last thing she needed was to get airsick. The sound of the jet engine was barely audible as the plane raced down the runway and into the sky.

  After about ten minutes of being in the air, Kala tried to keep from puking. She leaned her head back on the cold surface of the craft to distract herslef from the sensation.

  Kala could feel the plane vibrate as it moved through the air at an impossible speed. It was a specially designed stealth plane that was undetectable to all radar systems. This wasn’t the first time Kala had flown in this plane, but she could never quite get used to the ride.

  Jack motioned to the team that they should listen, “Our mission is on Air Force One.”

  Kala pushed aside all feelings of nausea and focused on the task at hand.

  “Air Force One?” she asked with surprise. Normally, Kala kept quiet, but hearing their destination and all the implications that it held was a little jarring.

  Jack nodded. “The President is being held hostage. We need to take the terrorists out and gain back control of the plane. The President’s life is our top priority.”

  Kala was used to high priority missions, but the President? Everything came in sharp focus for her. How often does anyone get to save the President!

  “Get ready to jump,” Jack barked. He unstrapped himself from his seat and hit the button that opened up the door.

  Cold air rushed into the cabin. The team climbed out of their chairs and stood in a line on the edge of the plane.

  Staring into the night with wind blowing all around, Kala saw Air Force One flying below them. The stealth craft was keeping pace with the larger plane to try and make the jump as smooth as possible.

  Jack handed everyone a small device the size of a lipstick container. Oxygen.

  Kala took hers and opened up the bottom of the mesh face-covering, placing the mini-oxygen tank in her mouth. Being this high up, the pressure alone was substantial, but trying to breathe would be impossible. Plus, there was never a guarantee that their team could keep Air Force One in flight. If anything happened to jeopardize the cabin pressure, they’d need oxygen there as well.

  “Kala, you first,” Jack yelled over roaring wind.

  Jack always had Kala go first because of her ability to adjust after passing through the walls. She may have motion sickness, but when it came to phasing, Kala was the first to snap out of the disorientation stage.

  Kala nodded. She hit the small button on the upper right shoulder of her phase-suit turning it on.

  When Kala heard the familiar buzzing sound of the suit coming to life, she jumped.

  Adrenaline coursed through her as the tearing wind surrounded her body. Jumping mid-air going 700 miles per hour wasn’t exactly something Kala enjoyed, but she felt the rush regardless. She hoped the speed of the jump wouldn’t interfere with the suit’s pass-through capabilities. The last thing anyone needed was to lose a body part on thi
s mission. Especially if that body part ended up being a head.

  It took less than five seconds to reach the tail end of Air Force One and once Kala hit the surface of the ceiling she closed her eyes. Traveling through walls was always a surreal experience, but doing it 3,000 feet in the air made it all the more bizarre. Every fiber of her body felt liquid, as if for just a second Kala had been turned into water. A millisecond later, Kala belly-flopped onto the floor of the back cabin. Recovering almost immediately, she was quickly on her feet and drawing out the two guns from her vest.

  Kala pulled back the mesh face-covering and spit out her oxygen device, pocketing it inside her vest. She squeezed her eyes open and shut a few times to regain her bearings. There was always a moment of disorientation no matter how disciplined she was, but Kala shook her head to keep focused. The last thing she needed was to be caught unaware by the terrorists who’d taken over the plane. Kala was still in shock that she was in Air Force One. As many high-ranking covert Ops she’d been a part of, Kala had never met the President. This wasn’t exactly the way she wanted to meet him, but saving his life from terrorists had a certain heroic majesty to it that Kala could appreciate.

  Aside from the urge to vomit up all the tequila she’d downed earlier that evening, Kala was ready to go. She’d landed in the back of the plane, in a room where office supplies were stored. Perfect place to rendezvous and take stock of the situation. A single door led to the main cabin in front of her, but it was closed. While Kala was waiting for the others to arrive, she crept up to the door and opened it a crack.

  The belly of the plane consisted of cushy leather chairs that looked like they belonged in a house, not on an airplane. They were arranged in rows, all facing a podium. Obviously the Press section of the plane. Kala cursed to herself. Normally in missions the whole team would be fully briefed of the location they were entering. But this?

  The orders from the higher-ups must have been fast and panicked for the operation to be this disorganized.

  Kala surveyed the area. The room was empty. She just hoped that Jack had a little more information to go on since the team was pretty much riding blind on this one.

  As if in answer to her request, Jack thumped to the ground behind her. The guy even managed to look graceful when doing a face-plant from the ceiling drop. For Kala there was no way to land with any kind of decorum when falling through a flying plane in a phase-suit. Kala had learned to take her SPLATs with a certain amount of humbleness.

  Jack was on his feet in seconds, shaking his arms and legs to rid himself of the disorientation. He pulled back his face-covering and spit out his oxygen mouth piece. Jack made eye contact with Kala, giving her a slight smile. “You good?” he asked.

  With all the adrenaline rushing through her system, Kala smiled back. “Yeah. The next room is clear. Where’s the President?”

  “In his main office. It’s at the forward end of the plane,” Jack answered.

  Kala knew then that Jack was privy to a lot more details of this mission than he had let on. She trusted him with her life, so as much as she wanted to inundate him with questions, Kala kept quiet.

  The rest of the crew hit the floor shortly thereafter. A few minutes of adjustment time and they were ready to go.

  Jack took the lead. The team went into their standard formation, which consisted of Jack up front, Kala, Derek and Lali in the back.

  Jack led them into the empty Press section. Everyone had their guns out and ready. Only Kala held both her guns, she felt more comfortable with two, ready to take down the men who held the President hostage.

  As they passed through the bolted leather recliners, Kala looked outside the small round windows. She realized that the plane was headed toward a large grid of lights: Washington D.C. The goal of these terrorists might be to crash the plane somewhere in the Capital. They needed to gain control of the plane immediately.

  Kala made brief eye contact with Derek behind her. She could tell he was thinking the same thing. An understanding passed between them. Kala knew that they’d both do anything to stop these crazies. Anything.

  Jack took them through five more sections of the aircraft, all empty. The whole situation reeked of strange. Normally, there’d be guards stationed along the way. Maybe the terrorists thought that a rescue mission would be impossible once in the air. Either way, something just felt off to Kala.

  She eyed Jack in front of her. He looked extra nervous as well. It wasn’t like Jack to show any kind of emotion in an operation, but he looked downright petrified as he motioned the team forward into the galley. Seeing him like that made Kala even more wigged out. Something was definitely wrong about this whole thing.

  Kala tucked her second gun inside her vest. She felt like she needed a free hand.

  Jack stood in front of the closed galley door leading to the next room. He whispered, “The next room is Medical and then the President’s office. Intel says he’s being held in the latter. We’ll go in fast. Head shots only. We don’t want to hit a window and lose cabin pressure.”

  Which meant no random firing. This wasn’t a problem for Kala, but Lali had a bit of a trigger-finger problem. And now that the plane was flying directly over the country’s capital, they couldn’t let it go down.

  Kala noticed that Jack was sweating. For any other person, this wouldn’t be an issue, but Jack never sweated. Kala knew it was probably because this mission was way bigger than anything they’d ever done before, but instinct told her there was more to it than that. Jack was scared, and it had nothing to do with terrorists.

  Jack slowly cracked open the galley door and Kala could see through the opening that there were at least five men in Medical. All with guns.

  To everyone’s surprise, Jack swung the door open wide announcing their presence to the bad guys.

  But that was just it.

  The men in Medical were Secret Service.

  Their guns were up and pointed at the team, but upon recognizing their uniforms’ military insignia, they lowered their weapons.

  The door to the President’s office was shut.

  Kala and the others filed into the galley to confer with the Secret Service men. Kala had counted correctly, there were five of them. Wardrobe was typical of government bodyguards: black suits and ties. The five of them had obviously been preparing to siege the next room, loading guns and conferring in a small huddle.

  When Jack and his team joined them, their leader spoke up, “I’m agent Ford. I’m assuming you’re Turner’s squad?” Ford directed his statement at Jack.

  Jack nodded, “Jack Norbin. What are we looking at here?”

  “The situation is delicate…” Ford paused, looking like he was unsure of how to continue.

  “Delicate how?” Kala asked when Jack hadn’t.

  It was as if Jack already knew what was happening and Kala and the rest of team were the only ones in the dark. It still struck her as odd that he wasn’t confiding in them. They were such a tight-knit group and to have their leader acting so aloof made Kala ill at ease.

  “There are no terrorists on this plane,” Ford stated carefully.

  Huh?

  Kala didn’t think she’d heard him correctly. “A hoax?”

  “This is the worst crank call ever,” Derek grumbled to himself.

  Ford shook his head in the negative. A look passed between him and his men.

  Something was very wrong.

  And Derek was growing impatient. “Are we all going to stand around here like we’re at the water cooler or something? Or are we going to save the President?”

  Kala felt the same way. A bunch of elite military and Secret Service huddled like they were about to play flag football. Everyone’s side arms out and ready to shoot. And more importantly, Kala was ready to shoot.

  “That’s just it,” Agent Ford glanced at Derek, “The President is the threat.”

  Kala and her team stared blankly at the Secret Service agent.

  “Excuse me?” Lali ask
ed. Normally, the girl kept her mouth shut, but claiming that the President himself was the actual threat was preposterous.

  Ford wiped sweat off his brow and explained. “The President has five bars of C-4 strapped to his chest hooked up to a bomb with a remote trigger that only he holds.” Ford was obviously freaked. No wonder Ford and his guys had been conferring in the Galley. What could they do? Shoot the President?

  That’s what Jack’s team was for.

  Kala took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. This was an impossible situation. She wondered why in the hell the President would want to blow himself up!? And over Washington D.C.! He could kill thousands of innocent lives.

  “Do we take him out?” Jack asked Ford. And not with the incredulity that Kala would have expected from Jack. It was almost as if he was asking for Ford’s permission.

  Ford’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head. “We’ve been arguing about that for the last twenty minutes! It’s the President of the United States for God’s sake!”

  Jack placed a hand on Ford’s shoulder, “That’s what we’re here for. You swore an oath to protect him at all costs. We didn’t.”

  Kala was pretty shocked at how calmly Jack said that. It was in that moment that she knew something with absolute certainty.

  Jack was there to kill the President.

  He had known what his mission was way before they suited up, and Jack had been mentally preparing for it the whole time.

  Jack nodded to Ford. “We’ve got it from here.”

  Fords’s demeanor had slowly deteriorated since Kala’s crew arrived. He was an utter mess: sweating, shaking and clenched. Ford ordered his men to stand aside.

  Jack motioned to Kala to stay behind him, and the others followed in their standard formation.

  Very carefully, Jack opened the door that led to the President’s office.

  What awaited them was terrifying.

  President Jareth Wilton stood behind his desk. He was wearing a vest that held five grey bars of C-4 wired into a bomb. Wilton was a tall man, well over six feet with stark black hair and a long face. He was a young President, only fifty years old, but he looked like he’d aged twenty years since the last time Kala had seen him at a press conference, with dark rings under his eyes and worry lines on his forehead.