by Matt Roberts
“So,” Owyn said, lifting the stale air. “What’s the plan?”
CHAPTER 3
TAJARI
Owyn suited up and loaded his belt with a new set of magazines and grenades, slotted his pistol into its holster and left the armoury. Although the weight of leadership was no longer on his shoulders he hadn’t been relieved of any pressure. This mission was big, and it was going to be far from routine – Ambrose’ behaviour had made that blatantly clear. He needed to put aside his feelings and focus. The mission was the priority.
As he headed briskly along the corridor towards the hanger Owyn spotted Sully plotting an intercept course. He contemplated breaking for cover, but in the end he knew that he would only be delaying the inevitable.
“It isn’t our call, Sully,” he reiterated as the two neared collision, preventing Sully from getting in the first word. “Whatever you’re about to tell me, I can’t do shit about it. Ambrose gives the orders, not me.”
“You’re the only one he’s ever going to listen to and you know it, O. He’s going to get us all killed if we go through with this.”
“How about you just trust him, Sully? Hasn’t he done enough to earn that by now?”
Sully’s determination was only intensifying with Owyn’s every word. “You heard him. He couldn’t argue with me. I know how those engines work and I can be damn sure they aren’t going to survive long enough to get us to that base. It’s suicide.”
Owyn came to an abrupt stop and turned to face his pilot. “We don’t have a choice, Sully. If you want to opt out, talk to Ambrose. Otherwise, you’re taking us into that desert. There’s nothing I can do.” Sully stared silently back at him for a few seconds before finally offering a hesitant nod. Owyn softened his voice. “Come on, let’s go.”
He continued on his way, but Sully stood firm. “What did he say to you last night?” he asked. “This isn’t you, O. You don’t follow blindly. Not even for Ambrose.”
Owyn stopped again and let out a long sigh. He turned back around. “No. I don’t,” he admitted. “But questioning orders has never ended too well for me.” That wasn’t the truth and Sully was too smart to fall for it, but Owyn knew that if was going through with this, Sully was too.
“Alright then,” he said, nodding with a little more enthusiasm this time. “Let’s go.”
Owyn was doing his best to keep his mind firmly focused on the mission, but he couldn’t help but have his own doubts. He knew the dangers of the Tajari just as well as Sully, and his concerns were hardly being eased. As he said himself, Sully knew those engines better than anyone. His judgement couldn’t be ignored, but Owyn had to put his faith in Ambrose. He owed him that much.
They arrived at the hanger bay where Ambrose, Shaw and O’Brien were preparing for launch. Ambrose had ordered the entire lower deck to be cleared so aside from them and their pilots, the hanger was empty. From this end, the cavernous chamber stretched endlessly into the distance. Along the right hand wall were sixteen docks, twelve of which were currently occupied by jets. Beyond them were several more bays, containing a diverse array of alternate transport. Some were built to mimic the public transport vehicles of each of Altaris’ cities, perfect for blending in when missions involved going undercover down on the surface. Others were larger, full squad carriers; slower and more difficult to conceal than individual jets but sometimes more convenient.
ISO had four squads in total – Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta – each consisting of four Operatives and one Head of Intelligence – Sully being Alpha’s. The four empty docks belonged to Bravo Squad’s Operatives. Their role as undercover mission specialists meant they were often absent from the station for long periods at a time, as they had been for the past few months. Nobody other than Ambrose and DPD command knew exactly where they went, and even when they were on station they hardly had any contact with the other squads so to be sure nothing was able to slip.
Initially, when they had all first set off from Earth Bravo Squad’s leader, First Officer Blake, was touted to be part of Alpha Squad alongside Owyn, Ambrose, and Shaw, before Ambrose decided she was better suited to a leadership role and promoted O’Brien in her place. Since they’d arrived Owyn could barely remember having spoken to her again – another unfortunate consequence of ISO life.
Sully jogged ahead and hopped into the cockpit to begin running through his pre-flight routine while Owyn joined the rest of the team.
“Engines hot. We’re launching in two,” Ambrose instructed.
“Copy,” the others replied in unison.
“Once you’re on the ground try to avoid unnecessary diversions or conflict – the mission is the priority. We need to get the job done as quickly as possible. Let’s move.”
The four of them dispersed and Owyn took his seat in the cockpit. Once he was strapped in and the door was sealed behind him the platform beneath the aircraft slid forwards, moving it into position in the launch bay airlock. Sully ignited the engines. Bulkhead doors slammed shut behind them and depressurisation was initiated.
Once the final particles of air had seeped from the chamber, the hangar doors made way to reveal the barren expanse of the Tajari desert stretched out below. It covered an entire continent so large that there was no other land in sight, just equal measures of pale brown desert and deep blue sea. Looking upon it was like gazing into the void. There was nothing to break the monotony. Not a lake, a river, a mountain; nothing. Just endless plains of barren sands and dry rock.
“I don’t suppose there’s any turning back now,” Sully said as he watched the veil of darkness begin to sweep across the desert. The discomfort in his voice was blatant to the ear. Owyn kept his silence.
Shaw’s jet was first to depart shortly followed by O’Brien. As soon as Ambrose joined them Sully fired the thrusters and they burst out of the launch bay, feeling the force crushing them into their seats as they were immediately caught by the planet’s gravity. At first they accelerated free of resistance then the jet’s wings glowed golden-red as it swooped into the atmosphere. Sully delicately lifted the nose, reducing the sharpness of their descent.
“How’re we holding up?” Owyn asked him as they dropped steadily towards the desert.
“Dust concentration is negligible. If the conditions stay like this closer to the surface then we should be fine.” He still didn’t sound convinced.
For now they maintained a high altitude, skirting along the edge of the desert. With the skies above the Tajari being entirely empty they didn’t want to spend too long within any sort of detectable range and so they were only going to take the plunge a few seconds before hitting the drop zone.
Owyn’s comms came online ready for Ambrose to issue his final briefing. First he addressed Shaw and O’Brien. “As soon as you hit the ground you’ll lose communication with us and with each other,” he explained. “If you don’t hit the target within the window then Carter and I will be dead in the water. Once we’re on the ground you’ll be clear to move on to locating and destroying the radio jammers ready for evac.”
“Copy that,” O’Brien answered.
“Fifteen seconds to drop,” Sully announced. In perfect synchronisation two of the jets veered downwards, cutting their altitude from 90,000 to 50,000 feet in a heartbeat while the remaining two – containing Owyn and Ambrose – stayed up high.
“See you on the other side,” O’Brien said, as she and Shaw took their places in their airlocks.
“Five minutes,” Ambrose reminded them. “Get it done.”
“We’ll get it done. Don’t waste your chance.” Shaw issued the final send off before the doors opened and they plummeted into the void.
Their jets rose back up then peeled off from the front of the line, blitzing past either side of Sully and Owyn, shaking the sky around them.
“Sullivan. I’ll need you to stick around and provide surveillance once the jammers are down.”
“With respect, sir, I’m not risking any more time in this airspace tha
n I have to. If a storm crops up within 10 miles of this position it’ll bring me down.”
“You’re staying put, Corporal. That’s an order.” Sully didn’t reply. Ambrose raised his voice. “Is that clear, Sullivan?”
“Yes sir,” he said at last. He didn’t express much confidence but on this occasion Ambrose was prepared to let it slide.
After maintaining a straight course for a couple of minutes the two remaining jets spun around for another pass and dropped their altitude. As expected there had not yet been any word from the ground team and so Owyn and Ambrose would be jumping blind.
Owyn checked all of his equipment and slipped on his helmet. He stepped into the airlock. All of his concentration was focussed on running through his landing over and over in his mind. He stood in silence as each second ticked by more slowly than the last. His nerves hadn’t been this apparent since the first time he’d endured this wait. Preparing to jump from what felt like the edge of space was never without fear but usually the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept his uncertainties at bay. Finally the countdown appeared in his visor. 5…4…3…2…1.
The doors opened and Owyn leapt out into the darkness. Without delay he corrected his position to steady his descent. He and Ambrose were just a few feet apart but neither offered the other the merest of glances. Instead they kept their eyes firmly fixed on the ground. The base was too far below to see clearly and a thin sheet of cloud was amassing above the surface, restricting their vision further. It didn’t matter, however. Owyn could see everything he needed to see by simply closing his eyes and visualising his course.
He streamlined his body as much as possible, edging himself ahead of his partner. Even as his focus deepened further still his nerves continued to wriggle around inside his gut. As the dim lit buildings of the rebel base came into view his breaths quickened. His thrusters fired for the first time, catching him off guard. Forcing himself to release the tension from his body he quickly calmed his racing heartbeat and reassembled his composure. The air below remained still. Too still. Shaw and O’Brien should have reached their targets by now.
As they broke through the cloud Owyn scanned the base. Tiny shadows of soldiers were patrolling the perimeter. Snipers sat atop every rooftop covering every angle of the compound. Time was running out. Unless something happened quickly, he and Ambrose were about to plunge into the midst of a circle of piranhas. They’d barely last a second. He looked all around the walls, flicking his gaze back and forth ever more frantically looking for any sort of sign. All he could find were more ground troops – more rooftop snipers.
His finger crept towards the manual trigger switch on his thigh. He still had enough fuel in his thrusters to make it clear. One full burst and he’d veer off and have a shot at landing out in the desert, not that his sideward momentum would make that easy. Every moment he wasted thinking it over lessened his chances. His window of opportunity was tiny and his margin of error was diminishing rapidly. He had to make a call.
A blinding light erupted from the western watchtower as an explosion ripped through the air. A split second later came another at the eastern tower. Pillars of flame lifted into the air above them. Smoke bellowed out from inside. In an instant the circle was broken. The soldiers were scrambled, their formation lost. Owyn’s thrusters fired again – without the need for a manual override – flipping him upright in preparation for landing.
He swung down onto one of the rooftops and his feet touched down. A cloud of dust sprung up from beneath him as his suit’s exoskeleton absorbed the impact. He carried his momentum into a forward roll, drew, and planted a bullet in the throat of one of a pair of snipers. The explosions kept the second distracted just long enough for Owyn to wrap an arm around his throat and drag him to the ground as he struggled in vain.
Ambrose had landed a couple of roofs across and been engaged and encircled by three armed soldiers. Leaping across to the next building, Owyn raised his pistol and flicked the switch beside the trigger. Lights along the barrel glowed an ever intensifying blue as he sprinted to close the distance. His visor display locked onto the three men, relaying the information straight to his weapon. He squeezed the trigger, unleashing a quick fire burst of three peculiar, elongated bullets. Seeking their targets, they swerved through the air, blazing trails of blue rocket fire in their wake. After repelling the swing of a fist, Ambrose ducked his head and the three soldiers toppled around him.
Owyn sighed. It was too bad that was a one-time trick.
“Let’s move,” Ambrose ordered, not allowing a moment of respite.
With Ambrose taking the lead, the two made their way down to the ground and sank into the shadows. Once inside it was clear to see that the compound was a temporary installation. No foundations had been dug into the stone. The buildings and walls all sat suspended upon struts which were haphazardly shaped around the jagged surface of the desert floor. As for the structures themselves, their shells were weak and flimsy while their frames weren’t built to withstand anything more than a solid punch. That, therefore, meant that Shaw and O’Brien’s explosives had done a great deal of damage, cleanly severing the top levels of the towers and flinging their smouldering remains for miles in all directions.
Ambrose froze and held out his hand. Owyn stopped behind him and watched a group of half a dozen soldiers rush past them, oblivious to their presence. They then continued onwards through the maze, before eventually arriving at a clearing where the ground dropped into a peculiarly circular crater. The edges were sheer and straight and a small, solitary structure rose from the centre. Chaos was echoing all around, yet two men still stood on guard at the front of the structure. While everyone else flocked towards the flames they stood their ground, unmoved by everything that was happening around them.
Neither surprised nor concerned to encounter resistance, Owyn and Ambrose stuck to their cover and waited. Gradually, order was beginning to be restored. The frantic shouting had faded away and the scattered soldiers were quickly assembling into squads that had begun searching the perimeter for the bombers. Their organisation was impressive. The rebels on Earth had always been completely bereft of discipline, while these men had it in abundance.
Ambrose kneeled, lifted his rifle and put an eye to the scope. Owyn held back. Time was against them, but they weren’t ready to panic. He held his breath to steady his aim. His rifle lacked the precision of Shaw’s – or any modern weapon for that matter – and so he had very little margin for error. He allowed his crosshair to sway a few times to either side before choosing his moment.
Owyn rushed down the steep embankment as the crack sounded and one of the guards was thrust backwards with blood spraying from his chest. The second immediately took aim and opened fire, but Owyn easily anticipated his every move. He hit the floor and slid beneath a line of shots. With the distance suitably reduced he rolled onto one knee and fired the finishing shot.
He leapt back to his feet and approached the structure. Unlike the rest of the base, this small and unassuming building – barely larger than a modest motor home – was built to last. Its walls were plated and its windows reinforced with numerous layers of steel mesh. The door was several inches thick and sealed by a complex combination lock. Owyn cursed. There’d been no warning of anything like this level of security. They didn’t have the time or the means without Sully’s help. He tried his comms. Nothing.
Ambrose marched up behind him and headed straight for the lock. Without a moment’s hesitation or thought he began reciting a long numerical code and entering the combination. The door clunked as a bolt retracted. Ambrose pushed through. “Come on,” he said, beckoning his partner to follow. Owyn was initially startled, although he shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, he’d said it himself. It wouldn’t be Ambrose if he didn’t at least keep something close to his chest.
Directly inside was a tiny, enclosed room. Opposite the entrance was another even more formidable looking bulwark door. This one was tightly sealed arou
nd the edges and was seamless but for a square metal plate cut out in the centre.
“Sully, are you with us?” Owyn tried again as he went about securing the door behind them. Again he was met with the stale sound of static. “Comms are still down,” he informed Ambrose. A lengthy pause followed. “Sir?”
Still there was no response. It was as though he was possessed. Already he had gone about removing a section of panelling from the floor and was all but unaware of everything else around him. Rather than try for his attention again, Owyn fell back to guard the entrance.
After a period of rooting around beneath the floor Ambrose returned to reality. “This’ll buy us a minute at most,” he called. As he climbed back up the door suddenly lurched upwards, stopping just a few inches above the floor. Owyn didn’t waste any time. He discarded his helmet and exoskeleton to make himself as small as possible then lay flat on his back and shuffled himself into place. With one arm he reached beneath the door and felt for the other side. He had to stretch as far as he could, straining his muscles to near breaking point before he managed to hook his hand around and secure himself an anchor. Ambrose gave a nod of approval and he dragged himself under.
To say it was a tight fit would have been an understatement. Owyn needed to press his cheek to the floor just to avoid losing his nose and his ankles were turned so sharply that they burned. He pulled again with all of his strength, desperate to escape the confinement. As he emerged he gasped for air as though surfacing from a deep sea dive, then clambered back to his feet and stood ready to greet his partner.
The seconds passed, yet still there was no sign of Ambrose. He should have followed right behind. Where was he? Owyn ducked down to take a look through the passage. Was anyone there? He could hardly see a thing. Uncertainty crept into his mind. Had Ambrose been ambushed? He hadn’t heard anything happen but he wasn’t quite sure that was a good sign. Should he go back? Could he go back?
Without warning the door crashed down to the floor, closing the gap entirely. Owyn lurched backwards. He was immediately flooded with panic. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Ambrose was the only one who knew the rest of the plan. He jumped up and slammed his fist against the door. “Fuck,” he hissed. “Sully?” There was no response yet again. “Shaw? O’Brien? Anyone?” He was now breathing heavily and out of control. Panic had overtaken him. “Fuck!” he repeated, this time gathering all of his strength into a yell.
