Atlantis - Return of the Nation

by Steven Cook

  ‘Shit,’ exclaimed Fisher as he started to pull field dressings out of his pouches. He slapped one on the bubbling wound in a vane attempt to stop the bleeding.

  Warnett stopped shuddering and relaxed. Fisher tossed the bloody dressing aside. His hand rested on the sailor’s chest.

  ‘Come on LT. We need to get moving.’ Dingo cut into his thoughts.

  ‘Help me get him up.’ Fisher used the sling on the carbine to secure it over his back.

  He reached down to grab the front of Warnett’s vest. As he heaved him up he spoke to Dingo.

  ‘I’m not leaving anybody behind this time.’ Dingo nodded and silently moved to help hoist Warnett’s lifeless body over the Lieutenants shoulder.

  Fisher stood and adjusted his balance. After accepting Warnett’s carbine he started moving down the street. Dingo followed a few paces behind, walking backwards and sweeping the street with the muzzle of his weapon.

  They could hear the tramping of hob nailed sandals. As he moved backwards a line of warriors marched around the corner and filled the street behind them, shields raised.

  Dingo could see archers within the group and moved quickly. He ripped open one of the Velcro flaps on the combat vest and pulled out a shiny black ceramic grenade.

  Hooking his finger into the ring he tore it out. He opened his hand slightly to let the bracket ping off and counted to three.

  ‘Fire in the hole!’ he threw the grenade in a shallow arc towards the warriors.

  As it bounced towards them over the flagstones he noticed that some of the warriors were smiling. After all, what could hurt them that had been thrown so slowly? They stepped over it as it rocked back and forth.

  Dingo moved backwards a few steps and dropped to his knee. The grenade exploded in a flash. The shrapnel flew outwards from within the ranks of the warriors. At least a dozen were thrown flat by the initial blast. The shrapnel from the grenade hit the warrior’s armour and reacted.

  To Dingo the secondary explosion of the ceramic hitting the Orichalcum was like a keg of kerosene exploding. Shards of the metallic element dashed the majority of the warriors to the ground like a fist of flame.

  Dingo got back to his feet and continued to move backwards. The warriors slowly gathered their wits and paused to assess their situation.

  At the head of the column Danny and Fitz reached an opening and saw the bridge ahead. In the time it had taken for them to go to the temple and return the warriors of the Sixth and their allies had taken control of the miniature forts that protected each end of the span.

  A makeshift barricade had also been erected at the mid point of the bridge.

  ‘They have us at a distinct disadvantage,’ said General Ilissus.

  Danny and Fitz just looked in despair at the relative safety beyond the bridge.

  *

  Southern Canal 24th May

  Dave Carrick moved nervously through the thick trees with a tightly packed group of sailors. Around them he could barely make out the shadowy forms of Rangers. Their disruptive pattern camouflage was perfectly suited to the environment. Carrick felt out of place in his plain blue submarine overalls.

  The jungle opened out into a clearing. The bodies of the submariners and Rangers lay were they had fallen. A wild dog worried one last chunk from the neck of one of the fallen Minoans before slinking into the trees. A number of gorged birds flapped slowly out of the way, unable to take to the air fully.

  The Rangers started moving amongst the bodies, gathering identification tags and loading the bodies into plastic body sacks. In a remarkably short time, during which the Rangers remained tight-lipped, they had respectfully lined the bodies up.

  ‘Move out,’ the Rangers commander spoke out.

  Silently the sailors, working in pairs, lifted the bodies of their colleagues and started to make their way the short distance through the jungle to the canal.

  The trees grew right up to the banks of the canal, casting shadows as the branches reached high above the smooth surface. As the Rangers and the sailors reached the bank the Rangers commander communicated softly into his throat microphone.

  From a few hundred yards downstream the sound of a powerful diesel engine broke through the jungle noises. The Guardian patrol boat slowly approached the bank. The three Rangers and the navy pilot on board watched the shoreline carefully.

  The powerful twin outboard motors of the Guardian easily enabled the craft to pull four unmanned zodiac inflatables. As the patrol boat pulled close to the shore the Rangers and sailors on the bank unhooked the zodiacs and tied them to tree trunks.

  In short order the bodies of the Rangers and submariners were loaded onto the zodiacs. As the final body was loaded Carrick shook hands with the Rangers Commander.

  ‘Thanks for agreeing to tow us up here,’ Carrick said.

  ‘They were my colleagues too. We never leave them behind. It may take us a while to get them back, but we always do.’ he smiled sadly at Carrick.

  ‘There are two of my crew out there. Please bring them out safely,’ Carrick pleaded.

  ‘We’ll do our best Chief.’ They shook hands again.

  Carrick climbed onto one of the zodiacs and watched as the Rangers arranged themselves around the open deck of the patrol boat.

  The lines securing the zodiacs were cast off, and once the tide had taken them safely away from the Guardian the sailors started the ceramic coated outboard motor on the lead zodiac, turned the prow downstream and opened the throttle. The other three inflatables were pulled around.

  Sticking to the centre of the canal, the Zodiacs and their grisly cargo slowly proceeded downstream towards the open sea and the gathering fleet of naval vessels.

  The Guardian Patrol Boat held station and covered their retreat until they disappeared from sight.

  ‘Alright boys, stay alert,’ said Lieutenant Dave Atkinson.

  The men acknowledged the rail thin officer and took their positions. A pair manned each of the three light machine guns, one on the prow, and one on either side of the boat, slightly behind the lightly armoured control console.

  The remaining three members of the ten-man squad were crouched in the open area before the console. One presided over a large radio, and the other two keeping their hands close to a couple of 66mm LAW (Light Anti-Armour Weapon) Rockets and the rest of their equipment.

  Atkinson moved in behind the console and tapped the pilot on the shoulder.

  ‘Take us up stream.’

  The pilot Seaman Dean Wallace pushed the twin throttles forward and the boat surged forward. It soon reached an easy cruising speed of thirty knots, more than enough for the three hundred feet wide canal.

  The Guardian, or Transportable Port Security Boat as it was officially known, was a twenty-five foot long Boston Whaler used for inner harbor and near shore environments. It had been adapted by having three hardened weapons points installed. In addition its electronic systems and engines had been coated with shiny black ceramic.

  ‘We’ll be coming up on a pair of bridges soon. They will probably be under the control of hostiles. We won’t be stopping and they shouldn’t have anything that will slow us down so conserve your ammo.’ Atkinson reminded the squad loudly over the roar of the engine and the rushing of the wind.

  He was sure that they all remembered the briefing he had given back on the Aircraft Carrier, but it didn’t harm to refresh their minds. Besides, it settled his nerves. He knew they would all remain calm. They had all come under fire in the streets and mountains of Afghanistan, so a group of has-beens with swords and spears wouldn’t cause a problem.

  Atkinson double-checked that all of his men were ready, and then peered upriver. Sure enough, he could see the pale span of the bridge ahead.

  As the patrol boat roared towards the bridge Atkinson could see activity. A number of shapes appeared at the low wall, peering downriver towards th
e strange noise.

  Atkinson stood to one side of the pilot and raised his M4. Without a pause the patrol boat sped under the span and carried on upriver.

  The only things thrown were a few curses that disappeared in the wind. The Rangers didn’t fire a shot. Atkinson released the carbine from his shoulder and looked back. The figures on the bridge were running madly about.

  He smiled to himself. Let them run around, it would take a fast runner to catch them up.

  ‘Sir, the second bridge!’ exclaimed Wallace.

  As Atkinson turned to look the pilot eased back on the throttles. The prow of the boat dropped as it decelerated.

  On the second bridge Atkinson could see a heavy chain being lowered quickly into the water. Linked to the chain were additional chains that were secured to the bridge. In effect a huge net was being cast over the river.

  Atkinson turned his head around to look at the first bridge. Another identical net was being lowered. The patrol boat was now in a pond three hundred feet wide by half a mile.

  ‘What do we do LT?’ asked Fire Support Specialist Chris Holmes on the forward machine gun.

  Atkinson thought a moment. He lifted up a pair of binoculars and scanned the bridge ahead. He scrutinised the chain. He lowered the binoculars and smiled.

  ‘Stop the boat and keep us steady. Jazzy, break out your baby. I want to test the other theory they have.’ He addressed the pilot and one of the Rangers.

  Wallace backed the throttle further and brought the boat to a stop. Carefully he applied the minimum of power to maintain their position against the current.

  Senior Sergeant Michael ‘Jazzy’ Jeffries moved from his position at one of the Machine guns to the open area of the boat where the team’s equipment was stashed.

  Kneeling he unzipped a long padded bag and removed his pride and joy. The Barrett XM500 rifle had reluctantly been passed over for ceramic coating, but Jazzy was pleased with the result. He removed another case and unzipped it to reveal a telescopic sight, which he attached to the Picatinny rail along the top of the rifle’s receiver.

  After folding out the bipod legs he settled down with the barrel pointing upriver.

  ‘What’s the target LT?’ he looked back at the officer.

  ‘See if you can hit the chain. It looks like that strange metal we were briefed about.’

  ‘See if I can hit it.’ Jazzy snorted quietly in disgust.

  He flipped up the protective caps on the scope and sighted the chain. Breathing slowly he got into the rhythm of the boats rocking. Satisfied he breathed out and gently squeezed the precision trigger.

  The large .50 calibre bullet exploded upriver to catch one of the links a glancing blow. The immense energy of the round added to the energy release of the Ceramic/Orichalcum reaction. Instead of destroying a single link, the energy release was high enough to set off a chain reaction.

  From downriver it appeared as if the bridge had disappeared in a deluge of flames. Orichalcum shards were blasted in all directions at incredible velocities. The bridge took the brunt of it, and an engineering marvel that had stood for centuries was reduced to gravel.

  A huge cloud of dust rolled downstream, enveloping the boat in a fine dust. When it finally passed the Rangers were able to see a clear unobstructed passage. The stubs of the bridge footings were all that remained of the impressive span.

  ‘Carry on.’ Atkinson whispered, in awe of the destruction.

  The pilot eased forward on the throttles and the boat pushed on upstream.

  *

  Atlantis Central Island 24th May

  Dingo aided Fisher as he laid Warnett on the ground. As Fisher gathered his breath Dingo pushed through the delegates to where General Ilissus, Saraph, Danny and Fitz were contemplating their options. Dingo took one look at the way ahead and spoke.

  ‘General,’ interrupted Dingo, ‘if you could order your troops to guard our rear I’ll get us a breach in the barricade.’

  The General took him at his word and issued orders to the Captains. The Atlantian warriors formed ranks at the rear of the delegation.

  Fisher came up alongside Dingo.

  ‘A couple of the politicians have agreed to carry Warnett.’

  ‘What’s happened to the XO?’ Fitz looked worried.

  ‘I’m sorry Fitz; he caught the full blast of some of that Oric’ stuff reacting with a bullet he fired. He died before we could do anything.’ He attempted to lay a hand on Fitz’ shoulder but the young man pulled away.

  ‘So I’m the last.’ He turned away to conceal the tears that were welling in his eyes.

  ‘Carrick survived,’ Fisher got his hand on Fitz’ shoulder this time, ‘we got down the river together and were picked up by Danny’s ship. They figured out that Ceramic protects our stuff. All from Danny’s watch causing that sword to break.’

  Danny looked down to his wrist where the Chanel J12 was still ticking happily away.

  Fitz took a deep breath.

  ‘How do we get past these bastards?’ he gestured towards the bridge.

  ‘Dingo, do you want to demonstrate?’ Fisher invited the Ranger.

  Dingo flashed his grin. Turning to face the bridge he aimed his carbine towards the nearest mini fort. He moved his hand forward of the trigger and pulled the secondary trigger on the under barrel attachment. The M203 grenade flew out of the launcher located under the main barrel.

  There was a faint vapour trail as the projectile looped through the air. It dropped into the top of the open aired fort and exploded. With a gout of flame and the secondary flash of Orichalcum exploding the potential advantage of the defenders was reduced to rubble.

  The effect on the defenders in the adjacent fort was immediate. They abandoned their posts and fled. They left the door to the fort open and raced back towards the barricade.

  As Dingo reloaded the grenade launcher Fisher, Danny and Fitz advance towards the bridge. Each raised his carbine to his shoulder and prepared to fire.

  Behind them General Ilissus issued the order to advance, and with a small vanguard headed by Saraph the delegates moved towards the bridge.

  Sophia gave orders to the rearguard and they stepped back slowly, keeping their shields raised. Further down the street the pursuers had finally regained their courage, and as none of the black suited Outworlders could be seen had started to close on the rearguard.

  As warriors marched out of nearby streets to quickly reinforce the forces pursuing them, Sophia deployed her limited resources to prevent them from being outflanked. The warriors of the three retreating delegations kept perfect discipline as they withdrew.

  At the head of the column Dingo had rejoined the others and they were now moving cautiously onto the bridge.

  ‘Danny, see if you can take out part of the barricade,’ ordered Fisher.

  Danny copied the action he had just witnessed. He took aim and pulled the trigger and was surprised at the recoil as the grenade was fired. He watched the projectile arc perfectly into a gap between two wagons.

  As the grenade detonated the wagons were turned into kindling, spraying lethal splinters in all directions. Dingo and Fisher barely paused before charging forward into the breach, carbines held high before their faces, barrels sweeping constantly.

  Fitz and Danny exchanged quick glances before following the example and racing forward.

  The two Rangers moved in perfect harmony, proof of years of training. Each took turns moving or firing short, controlled bursts, providing fire support for the other.

  The warriors who had survived the grenade were still stunned as the Rangers moved through them, mercilessly firing into exposed faces, necks and backs at short range. Each tried to avoid hitting them in the armour in case of causing secondary shrapnel.

  Danny and Fitz followed cautiously, checking that the two Rangers were not being flanked. A squad of war
riors lead by Saraph and Eraz followed them. Finally the delegates passed through the barricade.

  As the rearguard approached the barricade Sophia began issuing orders for individual units to peel off and pass through. As troops passed through the gap they reformed a short distance beyond.

  Danny and Fitz looked back the way they had come as a roar of noise broke out. The pursuing warriors had spotted their quarry escaping and had leapt forward in a charge.

  Without thinking Danny ran towards the remains of the barricade and leapt to the top. Sophia was standing at the forefront of the defending line.

  ‘Cast!’ she ordered.

  A flight of javelins was hurled towards the charging warriors. Many thudded into shields or missed their target, but holes appeared in the formation as several warriors found softer targets.

  The remaining twenty warriors in the rearguard drew their swords and linked their shields together.

  In an instance Danny realised that he was about to witness a desperate last stand. He looked back over his shoulder.

  ‘Fitz. Get here now.’ Fitz looked at the safety of the far end of the bridge for a second, and then dashed to the barricade.

  He laid the carbine on the top of the barricade and then hauled himself up. He looked at the charging warriors and quickly grabbed up the carbine and aimed it.

  ‘Sophia retreat, we’ll cover you.’

  Sophia glanced over her shoulder at Danny and saw his intent.

  ‘Fifth, begin withdrawal.’

  The disciplined warriors started to filter back towards the gap in the barricade. As their front shrank Danny and Fitz were given free aim at the attackers.

  Danny carefully took aim at a point just below the plume on an officer’s helmet and pulled the trigger. The round sped across the fifty yards and smashed into it the point he had aimed at. The weapon’s accuracy surprised the young seaman.

  The resulting secondary explosion blasted several warriors from their feet. The officer continued for a couple of steps before collapsing.