by S. T. Moon
Victoria wanted to scream. Red-6 had been planning this operation since the incident began. They had all the surveillance power of 6Corps and Red-C at their disposal. This type of mistake was unforgivable.
“All right team, this is the situation. We contain and wait for reinforcements.” Victoria monitored the progress of Red and Blue Teams and demanded constant updates on the position of the two known targets.
“Fifteen minutes is feeling like a long time,” Sergeant Bailey said.
“I don’t disagree. Give me an update on the targets.”
Corporal Peterson came closer, monitoring the handheld locating device as he spoke. “The two confirmed targets are advancing on our position. If you want my opinion, they’re working together. I’m trying to find the third target.”
Victoria knew, without doubt, where it was. The epiphany made her want to vomit.
“It’s behind us. These two known Death Angels are a flanking team. Sergeant Bailey, set up a defensive perimeter on our rear.”
“Yes, ma’am. We should pull the teams together,” Bailey said.
Victoria gave the order.
“What the hell are you doing, Mayer?” Oden demanded, his too-loud voice nearly deafening her.
What happened to addressing me as Red Team Actual? she wondered. “Forming a defensive perimeter. We’re being surrounded by three Death Angels.”
“You will not use that designation on an open channel, and I will not warn you again” Oden snarled.
“Where are our reinforcements?”
A pause.
“Five minutes.”
“You said fifteen minutes twenty minutes ago,” Victoria said.
“Don’t be childish. You’re in command of a combat unit. Act like it,” Oden said over the open channel.
Blue Team arrived and took up defensive positions behind abandoned vehicles and a low wall bordering a walking path. It was decorative and worthless for stopping three state-of-the-art killing machines.
Victoria keyed her comm. “Red Team Actual to Oden, we’re engaging the targets. Send reinforcements soonest. Mobilize medical evacuation units. There will be casualties.”
“That is the kind of defeatist talk that demoralizes units in the field,” Oden said.
“Comms, can you mute the C & C feed?”
“No can do, Commander. Sorry.”
The Death Angels came from three directions—perfectly coordinated and absolutely unstoppable.
“Weapons free!” Victoria shouted.
Her senses couldn’t be trusted. Auditory exclusion, the phenomenon of not hearing gunfire that would normally deafen a person, slammed down with almost physical force. Time seemed to slow in one direction and accelerate in another. Everything about the sudden conflict was confusion epitomized.
She wasn’t a soldier. She had advanced training and a rotation on an active SWAT team, but that had been over two years ago. Up until this moment the mission had felt like a tabletop exercise. Now it was flying bullets and smoke and screaming team members. Men and women who seemed hard as nails during the briefing made sounds she didn’t want to hear.
“Those things are tightening around us like a noose!” Sergeant Bailey said during a reload.
“Fall back between those two buildings,” Lieutenant Abel said.
“You heard him. Do it,” Victoria snapped. The man seemed to know what he was doing and was thinking a step faster than she was. The change of position would eliminate their flanks.
The combined Red and Blue Teams grabbed their wounded and fled.
Sergeant Ledeen staggered, a hand to her throat. Two seconds after the first Death Angel struck her with its stinger tail she fell sideways and bled out. Victoria wanted to help her but numbly realized the woman had been nearly decapitated.
Red Team concentrated their fire on the monster and drove it back.
“Blue Team, look sharp. RT pushed it back, but it’s just going to come at us again,” Sergeant Bailey warned.
Victoria reloaded and looked over her shoulder for a place to retreat. The street behind her was long and narrow, more of the same. “Red Team Actual to Oden, where is that support?”
Static fuzzed Oden’s response. “Reinforcements are inbound. We’ve called up additional ground elements to support your mission. Expect armored cars for extraction. Arrival time unknown.”
Bailey said, “We need to fall back.”
“I agree completely,” Victoria said. She touched her cheek and realized she was bleeding. “Are the targets firing missile weapons?”
“Yes, ma’am. Some sort of needle burst,” Bailey said.
Victoria watched the three Death Angels emerge from the smoke. They were two and a half meters tall and broad enough to accommodate four mechanical arms that counterbalanced the four meter long tail. Their tails lashed and struck like giant metal scorpions. When they were too far away to strike, the tails swiveled like snakeheads and launched clouds of needles.
“Red Team Actual to blue Team Actual, we are falling back by the numbers,” Victoria said.
“Roger that. We’re holding until you give the word to move,” Lieutenant Abel replied.
Victoria allowed Sergeant Bailey to coordinate the retreat. This was his wheelhouse and she trusted him. They’d known each other for all of two days but she was ready to put her life in his hands. As soon as she reached the first fallback point, she fired on the Death Angels, careful to avoid hitting members of Blue Team.
What she saw didn’t surprise her. Somehow, she’d suspected Lieutenant Abel was a hero the moment they met. He sent his team back, holding the position thirty seconds longer to make sure they would make it. He fired and reloaded at an impressive rate, but three Death Angels converged on him fast. It was like they sensed prey separated from the herd.
“BT, continue on to the next position. We’ll hold until you’re able to cover us,” Sergeant Bailey said.
Three needles ripped through Sergeant Bailey’s left bicep. He cursed. Victoria pulled a tourniquet from his emergency kit and slapped it around his arm. A flash of movement caught her eye. Abel sprinted into an alley with a Death Angel on his heels.
That was good for the team but not so good for a lone operator with limited ammunition.
“Bailey, talk to me.”
“You really cranked down that tourniquet. Didn’t think you had it in you. Thanks.”
“You can buy me a beer after this. Red Team Actual to support units, what is your ETA?”
“We see you. Continue to fall back and we will move in to block the targets. Two armored squadrons are arriving in five,” a man’s voice said over the radio.
“If you have eyes in the sky, look for Lieutenant Abel. He led one of those things away. “
“Air Support One, we see the Lieutenant and the target pursuing him. Can coordinate a side mission to rescue our man and destroy the target,” another voice said.
“Oden to Red Team Actual, consolidate assets and fall back. We’re going to have to call in the big guns,” Oden said.
“Red Team Actual to air support, continue rescue of Lieutenant Abel. All others fall back to armored units. Give me a headcount. We’re not leaving anyone behind.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Crisis Escalation
Special Agent for Red-6, Monica Triton, watched Frank Oden work. He wasn’t bad looking. She didn’t regret her affair with him in the slightest. With her grooming, he was becoming an interesting pleasure partner. It was beyond her mission parameters, a clear violation if she was being honest with herself. But she learned to do things her own way a long time ago. She was part of Red-6 before even the most informed movers and shakers knew there would be a merger—a double agent for herself.
Certain things had to happen to ensure the viability of the New World Order.
“This is Command and Control. Mobilize Battalion One. Deploy all available armor units and heavy infantry immediately,” Oden said. “Standby for authorization code.”
&n
bsp; Monica wasn’t a fan of the military mobilization stage, but she accepted it as necessary. Technically, she wasn’t privy to the information but with her network of informants—any of whom were susceptible to blackmail—she knew all there was to know about the New World Order.
She thought they should call it that, the New World Order. It had a very science-fiction-ish ring to it. She enjoyed science fiction. Or any type of fiction. Because that’s what the hearts of men were made of, fiction.
“Can confirm,” Oden said. “We have a full-scale outbreak of Death Angels. Three sightings. There are believed to be more. No actionable information on who released them.”
Monica wished she knew who he was talking to. That was one piece of the puzzle she didn’t have yet. Everyone thought they understood the Death Angel Project, the obsolete counter-population measure that couldn’t be put back in the box. She believed that the major movers and shakers, the existing power elite, were reluctant to throw away such a powerful tool and someone had made the mistake of using it now. The question was, who had access to the project? Or more specifically, how many people had access. There was more than one hand at work here.
Frank Oden issued orders around the command center looking very much in charge and she tried to get herself excited about having sex with him. She was tired. Her lack of libido was probably due to fatigue.
“That’s all I can do to fix this goat rope,” Oden said. “Commander Chandler, you have the C & C.”
“Yes, sir.”
Oden loomed over Monica, still lounging in her chair. “Can I take you to dinner?”
“Why not?”
“We have a meeting with Irene Vail afterward,” he said.
“Are you sure you want me there?” she asked.
“I should probably have a witness in case she makes... accusations. I don’t trust her.”
Monica stood up and smoothed her blouse and slacks. Her body ached from a recent workout, which she liked. She was toned and tight, glad she had time to hit the gym regularly. “What’s for dinner?”
* * *
Irene Vail made a quick assessment of agent 037, Monica Triton, with trepidation. The woman’s attachment to Oden disturbed her. In her opinion, the man was worse than Trevor Niles had been. He had the same dark side but lacked the will to go completely off the rails as Niles had. That was a good thing, but she didn’t admire weakness even when it benefited her.
Monica, for her part, openly despised Irene. The woman was damaged. Her callousness reached the dark edge of evil. Monica only knew part of her story and really couldn’t blame her after what she’d been through, but everybody had their crosses to bear. If this woman thought she was somehow special in the realm of fixers, she was an arrogant fool.
“Is that your trainee?” Monica asked, looking Breaker up and down.
“Not exactly. More of an evaluation and rehabilitation project,” Irene said.
The two women were away from the small stream of people arriving for the meeting pretending to chitchat.
“He doesn’t look like my type,” Monica said. “Sexy as hell, but too strong-willed.”
“An astute observation,” Irene said.
“What’s he like? You’ve tried him out, surely.”
Irene didn’t reply.
Monica studied her for what seemed an eternity. “You actually like this one. Maybe more than like. You’re going to have to make a choice.”
“I made my choice when I became a fixer,” Irene said.
“That’s what they teach us to say. Doesn’t look like Breaker made that choice.” Monica admired Breaker like she was deciding how much to order. “My sources say he’s lost his objectivity. Fell in love with some stuck-up bitch from the Northwest Region of the once mighty 6Corps.”
Irene pretended she hadn’t heard the remark. Oden strode in. She offered her hand. “Congratulations on your promotion.”
“You know, Irene, no one will confirm it, but I believe I may outrank you,” Oden said.
Irene sensed a tension in his voice and a slightly elevated rate of breathing.
“Negative,” she replied. “Do you really think I would let that happen? Have you forgotten our… history?”
His face froze then he started greeting new arrivals, carefully not meeting Irene’s eyes. “Everyone gather around. We will be standing for this meeting. What you see here is our tactical table, currently set to downtown D.C. The blue and red elements are the teams we deployed to handle the Death Angel crisis. The green are reinforcements. The three yellow dots are the known Death Angel units.”
He waited while people found their places.
“It was our hope to resolve this with a quick, surgical strike of special operators. There hasn’t been a military deployment in three decades, and even that was more of a training operation than an actual crisis. This is different. We’re running an investigation to determine how the DAP was subverted.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up noticeably. “Several of you are new to the Death Angel Project, or DAP as we will be calling it for brevity. Please review the intel packets that are being uploaded to your personal devices. For now, understand these are a top-secret battle tech designed to defend against incursions from off-grid rebels.”
“That’s a deft manipulation of the truth,” Monica whispered to Irene.
“Neither of us want to be part of where this is going, Monica. Don’t overstep yourself,” Irene replied.
“Do you think you’re better than me?” Monica asked.
“At what?”
Monica smiled licentiously. “Everything. But for now, let’s just talk about what fixers do that no one else does.”
“Let’s not.”
“Kill anyone good lately?” Monica asked. Something in Monica’s eyes told Irene she enjoyed this question more than she should.
“I think you mean have I had a good kill. Or are you fond of killing good people?” Irene arched an eyebrow.
“No one’s good. You should know that by now,” Monica said.
“How long before you take out Oden?”
Monica laughed loud enough to draw the attention of several people around the table. “Touché. You know I can’t tell you that.”
“Perhaps we should pay attention to his briefing.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “Fine, Irene. But it won’t change anything. Sooner or later you’ll have to decide what to do with Jonathan Breaker.”
* * *
Victoria checked the pressure bandages a medic had applied to her wounds. They itched and burned. She wanted to peel them off and wash the wounds but knew better. They were a long way from safety, much less a medical facility.
Red and Blue Teams had scattered. Most of the task force had made it to the perimeter formed by the armored vehicles and heavy infantry Oden sent to bail them out. During the heat of battle, she thought the reinforcements were taking years to arrive. Now she wondered how they could have been so close at hand. Oden must’ve planned this, which meant he’d expected her to fail.
She reviewed the technology and equipment snafus that began the moment her team arrived in the D.C. area. It was a long list and did nothing but make her angrier. She had three others with her now, Sam Abel, and Joseph and Uriah Randall. They’d been working their way to the safe zone with little success. Every time they entered an alley or turned down a street promising safety, there was a Death Angel blocking their path.
“That was a real clusterfuck,” Abel said. He slid into a sitting position behind a concrete wall.
Joseph and Uriah took up stations at each corner and stood guard.
“You did good, boss. I had my doubts when Oden told us who you were and where you’d been for the last year,” Abel said.
She didn’t know what to say to that. What did he tell them? She checked her rifle, then her handgun, then moved her loaded magazines to the front of her tactical vest and put the empty ones in a pouch.
“Taking this assignment was a risk,�
� Abel said. “But not in the way Oden expected. He thinks he knows how we think, but he’s just a career climber with no real insight into his subordinates.”
“Maybe I’m hurt worse than I thought or maybe I’m just tired, but I’m not sure I’m following you,” Victoria said.
“This mission was your second chance, just like the rest of us. We all knew we might be a throwaway team, maybe even scapegoats. We took the mission anyway and did our best.”
“The mission’s not over,” Victoria said.
“I like her,” Joseph Randall said.
“Yeah, she’s solid,” Uriah agreed.
“She can hear you, dummies.” Abel shook his head. “We all want our careers back but most of us see the big picture.”
“I’m listening, Sam. Why don’t you just lay it out for me?”
“Now is as good a time as any,” he said. “Joseph and Randall are the only people on this team besides you who didn’t grow up off the grid, or close enough to the fringe that it’s the same thing. We can tell what’s propaganda and what’s a basically sound policy. In terms of planning for society, anyway. A lot of what 6Corps and the other corporations are constantly ramming down our throats about the off-grid areas is bullshit. But there is some truth about what we did to this planet before the wars ended; before 6Corps taught us how to be gentle to the Earth.”
Victoria remembered her year living in the wild with Breaker. It seemed impossible so much open space could ever be overpopulated.
“Let me tell you a secret about the team you’re leading” Sam Abel said. “Most of us want to earn better positions within Red-6 and make changes through channels, do it the right way, within the law. A minority believes this is a waste of time.”
“Are you part of the minority?” Victoria asked, thinking of Breaker and his family.
