by Cameron, TR
Diana scowled. “I’m aware.”
Her comm chimed, and she held up a finger as Deacon’s voice came into her ear. “Boss, that file is done decrypting. I haven’t opened it, but it’s clean and ready for you on your private drive.”
“Thanks.” She pressed her index finger against a drawer of her desk, activating the biometric lock. The drawer slid open, and she took her heavy-duty laptop out and opened it. “Deacon did some digging. Let’s find out what he came up with.”
She turned the computer so Cara could see the screen as well and hit the requisite buttons. A list of names popped up, and she searched their databases to find out who they were. “Wow. We’ve managed to get members of both parties to dislike us?”
Cara laughed. “Look at that, boss. You’ve inspired people who probably hate each other to work together. Nicely done.”
Diana scrolled past the information on the senators from Nevada, one a Republican, one a Democrat. The next several names in the file were FBI. “Really, the feebies almost had to be involved.”
Cara nodded. “No military. That’s good, anyway.”
She frowned. “This Kevin Serrano here. We have no records on him.”
“Like he’s new?”
“I guess that’s possible. Or his files have been scrubbed.” The next record was labeled Tier one, and upon opening revealed a dozen names alongside their personnel files. Diana breathed, “Holy hell. Top people at the CIA, Treasury, FBI.”
Cara pointed at one. “And Army military police. Wow. The best of the best of the best, like in Men in Black.”
She stared daggers at her subordinate. “Honestly, if you people don’t quit it with the movie quotes, I’m going to start shooting anyone who does it in the foot.”
The other woman snorted. “Like you could shoot Rath.”
“He gets a sleep dart.” They didn’t have sleep darts, but their intel said that Ruby had used them in Magic City, and she was sure she could borrow a few from the other woman. She owes me at least that much, not that she’d refuse even if she didn’t.
Cara reached over and clicked something on the laptop, the information summoning a frown even bigger than Diana’s. “What the hell is this? A military version of the AET makes total sense and has been in the works for some time, but this setup looks like it’s for urban deployment, not fights in the field.”
As they reviewed the files, it became increasingly clear the government was spinning up several operations either aimed at them or intended to do the things that her team did. When taken as a whole, it didn’t paint a good picture.
Diana growled, “Okay. Now that we know who these scumbags are, we need to take them on rather than letting them play their games.”
“Agreed.”
“On the political side, I’ll ask Bryant to chat with the people he knows, see if he can get a hint of who’s at the top of this dung heap. Maybe it’s the mystery man. Once we have a target, we can figure out how to deal with him or her.”
Cara replied, “On the operational side, we’ll need to boost our countersurveillance actions since Bryant thinks they’re watching us. Given the information here, he’s probably right.”
Diana nodded. “They’re watching. I’ll send you the rest of the data when we finish here.”
“Perfect. I’ll get with Kayleigh, work up some more drone coverage for field ops. Anything on the immediate radar?”
“Italy. Venice, I think. Some chucklehead who apparently found a Rhazdon artifact in a museum, and instead of being a good upstanding citizen and turning it in to Interpol, has decided to sell it on the black market.”
Cara rolled her eyes, clearly sharing Diana’s opinion of the man. “Sending Sloan in to buy it?”
“We’re low on funds for that sort of thing. I was considering requesting more, but this information pretty well kills that notion. No, you all will have to go in and take it.”
Her subordinate shrugged. “Not a problem. Timeframe?”
“We have some leeway since he’s working the buyers to get more from the sale. Maybe start some recon today.”
“Will do.”
She considered suggesting to Cara that they should find a backup location for the most precious items in their artifact storage, given what they’d learned. No telling what limits these bastards might have.
Suddenly, a shrill staccato alarm blasted out of the speakers mounted in the ceiling. It took her a moment to remember what that particular cadence meant, and she and Cara said simultaneously, in a similar tone of disbelief, “Intruders.” Diana snapped, “Alfred, status.”
The base’s AI responded in his typical clipped British tones, unperturbed by the fact that people who were not them were suddenly in their base. “Magical incursions at multiple locations.”
She grabbed her glasses and slipped them on. “Schematic to my display.” An overlay of the vimana appeared with blue dots for the agents’ current locations and red dots representing their unknown visitors. A lot of red dots, moving in discrete clusters of four. Diana had no trouble recognizing them as assault teams. She met Cara’s eyes and said calmly, “Alfred, initiate scenario Zulu.”
Chapter Eleven
Tony and Sloan had been assigned quarters near the center point of the facility, specifically in case one of the defense scenarios was invoked. Zulu was the most extreme, and Tony’s heart pounded as he shoved his feet into a pair of boots and quickly tied the laces. He grabbed his glasses and slid them onto his face as he exited, finding Sloan already in the hallway. The other man asked, “Know anything?”
Tony shook his head. “Nothing. Got a lot of red dots, though.”
“Better get geared up, then.”
The team had been experimenting with quick deployment technology for some time. Kayleigh and Hank worked locally, consulting with Emerson, the big brain of the bunch, who participated by remote. Tony slapped a button on the wall, and the panel beside it rose to reveal an armored exoskeleton, the fruit of their labors. He stepped back into it, and once positioned to the satisfaction of the sensors inside, servos whined, and robot arms came to life.
Sections of armor descended to attach to the exoskeleton as it wrapped around him. He’d forgotten to take off his glasses, and a robot arm plucked them from his face right before the helmet went on. The suits weren’t full combat models like the military or the AET might deploy in. They were custom prototypes, lighter than standard, and modified with primarily defensive armaments, a better fit for their needs in the vimana. Or even for use in the field, the way we do things.
As the final pieces latched together, his helmet display finished its boot-up process and showed him a two-hundred-and-seventy-degree view. A side window showed the feed from the camera on the back of his head that covered the rest of the surrounding space. He stepped forward, and the motors inside the suit handled its weight perfectly. Movement was only slightly clumsier than normal, not enough to cause significant problems.
The only things he lost in the exoskeleton were his ability to quick-draw and a touch of natural accuracy. The former wasn’t necessary since a combination rifle and grenade launcher currently filled his hands. The red dot that appeared on his display at the partial press of either of the weapon’s triggers handled the latter by showing where a given round would land. A pistol was present at the suit’s thigh, and a plethora of other gadgets was within easy reach, attached to the exoskeleton.
Sloan stepped out of his cubby, identically armed and armored. “All good. These things rock. Where to, Stark?”
While they were all excellent combatants and tacticians, Sloan's expertise was more on the intelligence end of the spectrum, so Stark was the natural leader of the pair where fighting was concerned. Kayleigh's voice sounded over the comm, sounding a little breathless. “Primary doors fell as planned. Stark, Face, ready for me to funnel the scumbags to you?”
Tony replied, “Affirmative. Send in the clowns.”
The tech chuckled. “Done. Be careful.”
Diana’s voice spoke next. “High probability these are from the US government. Nonlethal where possible. If you have to kill to save yourself, do, but evacuate instead if that’s an option.”
He slid the selector lever on his rifle over, telling the weapon to use the feed from the canister filled with crowd control ammunition. The munitions themselves were tiny, only about twice as big as a normal bullet, but they packed a punch disproportionate to their small size. When the first opposition squad appeared, he and Sloan launched simultaneously.
The mini-grenades flew down the hallway. He’d selected electricity rounds designed to short out the equipment the enemy would doubtless be carrying. When he realized they wore extremely high-tech-looking armor, he figured it probably wouldn’t work. True to that expectation, the grenade landed, discharged, and utterly failed to stop or slow anyone.
Sloan's magazine had a web grenade loaded in the first position. It proved more successful, shooting strands of sticky adhesive across the lead enemy and onto the walls and floors. Tony launched his next round, also a web grenade, and ordered, “Fall back. Glam, they look like trouble. Make sure they don’t get reinforcements for a minute or two.”
The tech replied in the affirmative. Bullets flew, clanging off the interlocking armor plates that covered most of his torso and limbs. Normally he’d have Kevlar and his normal heavy ballistic cloth underneath, but the attack had come early enough in the morning that he wasn’t in uniform and hadn’t had time to get there.
All the agents slept in some clothes against the possibility of moving quickly, but that didn’t include combat gear. Or my gloves, or any of my other fun stuff. He sent another grenade flying down the hallway, this one a flash-bang according to his display, knowing it would likely do nothing since their enemies wore full helmets and probably had the same sort of countermeasures they did.
He and Sloan stepped into small indentations in the walls, large enough to provide cover to shoot from. His finger reached for the rifle’s trigger, then he grumbled and put it back on the one that activated the launcher. Three more grenades flew, only the single web attack having any effect. Even then, all it managed was to slow the enemy, who chopped at the strands with blades and shot at them with what sounded like shotguns. Tony shook his head. “We can’t stay nonfatal and stop them. We can only delay them.”
Diana replied, “Adequate. Hold them for as long as reasonable, then portal out.”
* * *
Rath leapt down from the top bunk bed and grabbed his equipment. Max, his Borzoi companion, wasn’t asleep below him, which was a problem. He shoved on the glasses he only used in the base and said, “Gwen. Locate Max.” He strapped on his batons, wishing he’d also stored his knives and flight gear in his quarters. He ran out the door, and his personal AI, who had originally been there to help him fly but was now much more capable, illuminated a path on the floor.
She said, “Max is in the canteen.”
He laughed. “Good. I was hungry anyway.” He flew down the hallways, watching on his display to see where the enemies were and charting a route to avoid them. At one point, he had to cross their vision, and he did so in a tumbling blur, laughing again as bullets spattered nowhere near quickly enough to catch him. Fast troll is fast.
He found the dog and grabbed his head, hugging him. “Okay, Maxie. Bad guys around. We have to go.” The Borzoi dipped his muzzle, whether understanding the words, tone, or just happy to see him, Rath had no idea. “Follow me. Gwen, locate Diana.” They moved stealthily toward her location, careful to avoid engaging any of the enemies.
Eventually, though, it became impossible to evade contact. A pair of sentries held a position at an intersection they had to cross. He knelt to whisper in Max’s ear. “You run through. Go fast, curve rather than straight. They probably won’t shoot at a dog, and you’ll be too fast, anyway.” He pointed at the canine’s eyes. “Do not get hurt.”
The dog’s muscles flexed under his hand, and Rath patted him as he drew his batons. “Go.” His reasoning proved true as the Borzoi raced through the intersection, barking before he got there, which was both smart and something Rath should’ve thought of ahead of time. Stupid. Be better.
With their attention on his dog, neither of the guards reacted in time to avoid his attack. He dashed into the intersection and smashed them both in the legs with his batons, four strikes fast enough that his targets dropped to the floor before they realized what was going on. With their heads tipped back, he had access to flesh under their helmets, and he shoved his batons into the opening. They snapped as the stun function deployed, and both men’s arms flopped to the sides.
He muttered, “Lucky there were only two,” and headed for the Vault, the storage location for the artifacts they hadn’t turned over to the government and the spot where the light on the schematic indicating Diana’s presence pulsed softly.
Chapter Twelve
Hank hit the deck running the moment the alarm went off. He held a vital role in all the scenarios that involved defending the base, which was getting to the armory and making sure it was defended and locked down. He raced through the hallways, guided by Alfred along a path that would allow him to stay away from enemy soldiers. The floor was cold on his toes, and he momentarily wished he’d paused to at least grab his boots. Doesn’t matter. There will be some in the armory.
Keeping enemies out of the place where they kept their most important tech and magic—well, aside from the artifacts—was vital, and he’d honestly been honored Diana entrusted him with it. Of course, he had a backup. They all did. Anik joined him as he turned into the final corridor that led to their destination. The other man asked, “Any problems getting here?”
Hank shook his head. “None. The AI did its job.”
They dashed inside and swung the heavy, oversized door closed. All the doors in the vimana were weird, not quite rectangular, and seemingly built for people far taller than them. Anik said, “We should probably throw the bolts.”
Hank looked at the series of thick metal bars, eight in all, that would secure the portal at need. “No, let’s wait. Alfred, give us eyes on all the approaches to this room, please.” His glasses filled with small windows showing various corridors that were proximate to the armory. The AI would make the images flash if anyone entered the cameras’ views.
Khan said, “Alfred, Zulu checklist, please.” A list of tasks they had to complete to lock down the armory appeared. The agents kept their regular gear in standard lockers, and they wouldn’t be able to do much about that stuff. Given the number of enemies flooding the base, they didn’t have enough time to pack things up, even if they threw the bolts. Hank muttered, “Have to assume they came prepared, right?”
The special items, those were different. Whatever the team members thought was particularly important to them that didn’t live in their quarters sat in boxes at one end of the room. The other agents had taken Khan and Hank to the places they wanted their stuff moved to, so they could open portals to those locations now. They pushed the containers through, hoping the destinations would be as secure as they were nine months ago when they’d set up this process.
When they finished, each man opened their special crate and grabbed the backpacks within, making sure they had their gear as well. Hank imagined that Khan had filled his with things that went boom. His pack held as many tools as weapons. Custom tools, to be fair.
He frowned as Kayleigh's voice came on the line. “The base’s systems have detected that the enemies are carrying portable anti-magic emitters.” The tech probably had advice to give, but that wasn’t her role in the situation. Unlike most of the rest of the time, they were all following the rules to the letter.
Diana sounded like she was running. “Okay. Everybody, keep an eye on the enemy’s progress. If they seem like they’re going to get close to you, portal out regardless of whether you completed your tasks. Staying alive and free to fight another day is more important than anything here.”
Rath’s voice joined the channel, saying, “Thirty seconds. Need thirty.”
Diana corrected, “Alfred, belay last. Thirty-five seconds to full lockdown.”
More voices weighed in, and Hank took a moment to look at the feeds from all the cameras. No one was in view, which meant they could probably shoot the bolts now. You never know. “As soon as the base goes into lockdown, you and I throw the bars and get out of here. The boss is right. If we’re free, we can help anyone who isn’t.”
Khan nodded. “Well, since you’re my ride, I guess I have to agree with you.”
Hank laughed. “Damn straight.”
* * *
Kayleigh shouted, “You almost done in there?”
Deacon, sounding half-annoyed and half-remorseful, shouted back, “You know, setting a year of one’s work up to self-destruct isn’t really a good time. Cut me some slack, woman.”
She sighed and shook her head. Her hands were busily shoving devices, supplies, and tools into two large duffel bags, each of which would be a challenge for her to carry. Fortunately, all they had to do was throw them through a portal. “I’m sure you have copies of everything on the magical dark web, or whatever you call it.”
He laughed, but it held no humor. “Actually, no, that would be… Unsafe. What I have are hard drives and the hope that nothing gets corrupted on them now that they’re the only extant copy of my life’s work.”
“Drama Queen.” Despite her words, she acutely felt the same pain as she decided what to take with her and what to abandon. She prioritized fabrication materials rather than repair supplies since the next phase of Zulu would leave her on her own for a while. Hopefully not too long.
