Thermals

by Evan Currie

  Still, he had to try.

  *****

  The Type 105 35mm anti-aircraft cannons, assigned the NATO code name of ‘Mongoose’, gave off a steady ‘chop chop’ sound as they fired in rapid sequence, tracking on computer control from the central radar mast mounted on the tower.

  Above them another Black Hawk took several of the long and heavy rounds, blowing out its rear armor and it began venting black smoke as the projectiles perforated its engines, scattering metal shrapnel into the pistons.

  The pilot managed to get his nose up out of the dive he was making, but that only gave the Mongoose a few more seconds to zero it in. Thirteen more rounds struck home in those few seconds, ripping the chopper to pieces. Two other Black Hawks made it under the Mongoose’ firing arc in the meantime, however, and vanished behind several buildings.

  The Chinese cannon kept firing for a few seconds, ripping large holes in the soft target civilian buildings, then was retasked by the central command node to another target. It swung back up and around, settling its sights in on a Chinook that was carrying a Land Rover under its big belly.

  Then the heavy ‘chop chop’ sounded again as the Mongoose opened up again.

  *****

  “Good lord…”

  Natalie ignored the shocked whisper, instead turning to the closest analyst, “Lee!”

  The mousy looking man stiffened, the shock of the sight on the screen bleeding away as he reacted to her voice. “Ma’am?”

  “I want to know what the hell just happened there, Lee. Who we have covered, but you find out what and where for me right the hell now!”

  “Where ma’am?” He blinked in confusion.

  “Find me every weapon emplacement in that god damned city, Lee,” She told him grimly, “I don’t care what you have to do to get me that intel.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  She watched him hurry off, then turned back to the scene of flames and carnage on the downlooking satellite imagery. There were fires burning in a dozen places around the city, the heat signatures actually outshining the incredible thermal plume of the tower’s central core. Some of the Aussie Helos were still maneuvering, scrambling for the deck like mad as they tried to evade the fire from the ground.

  “Got one!” someone yelled, focusing the image in on a gun emplacement that was revealed by a flash of fire through its camouflage.

  “What is it!?” Natalie asked sternly, hurrying over.

  On the smaller version of the large wall screen there was a tight in look at the hidden gun and two analysts were chattering between each other as they pointed to the screen and argued with each other.

  “Well!?”

  They started, looking over at her, then looked at each other guiltily. One nudged the other, and he nodded and stepped forward.

  “They look like Mongoose 35mm guns, Ms Cyr,” He told her, “We’re just trying to decide if they’re equipped to fire the last generation smart rounds or not.”

  “If they are?”

  He shrugged with a grimace, “Well then Ma’am, it’s a good news bad news kind of situation. Good news is, that they’re definitely not the new stuff the Chinese are using in their front line military. They’ve been moving over to Laser and SAM systems comparable to our first generation equipment from about ten years ago, which is probably why these found their way onto the market in the first place.”

  “And the bad news??”

  “Bad news is that the Mongoose system can pretty much shoot down anything flying under fifteen thousand feet, no problem. The Chinese used it as a missile defense system for a long time before they caught up in laser technology and started fielding those units.”

  “So what? They can shoot down incoming missiles?”

  “Eighty to ninety five percent effective, Ma’am. Depending on the number of guns and power of their tracking radar.”

  Natalie shook her head and turned away, muttering under her breath, “I’ve got to get more teams on tracking down the black market in military heavy arms.”

  *****

  “We’re gonna dig in, Colonel!” The pilot screamed, not looking back as he pushed the controls for the throttle and the collective wide open. “Strap in! Strap in!”

  Colonel Pierson ignored the yelling, still furiously working on the computer terminal that was tied into what was left of his helo squadron, but he felt someone else grab the restraints from one side of him and haul them down hard, cinching him into his seat.

  Around him the whine of the engine climbed hard as muttered curses and prayers underscored the insanity of their motion. Buildings flashed past him as he felt a sudden wrenching slam drive his spine up into his head, and the world just screamed.

  The UH-60 punched down into the paved road surface, listing hard to one side as the forward landing gear buckled under the pressure and the armor of the bottom slammed into the road for an instant. Then the rising power of the cyclic kicked in and the Black Hawk was airborne again, engine whining against the background of war as the pilot worked the controls furiously.

  He pivoted the helo around, banking hard to bleed off their momentum, and everyone felt themselves compressed again by the force as the big chopper came to a hovering halt in the middle of the street, buildings on either side covering them from radar and enemy fire.

  Above them and off to the right a fireball lit up the sky as the AA guns found another target, and the pilot winced as a friend fell from the air.

  “What’s our status, Captain!?”

  “We’re airborne and battle ready, Sir!” the pilot replied automatically, “We dug in pretty hard, I think we lost our front gear, but they build these suckers to last! Is everyone alright back there!?”

  “We’re good, son!,” The Colonel growled, “Just keep us that way!”

  “You got it, Sir! I’m going to keep- Jesus Christ!”

  The pilot’s cursing was punctuated by the sudden lurching motion of the chopper as he worked the pedals and cyclic again.

  “What the hell is it, Captain!?”

  “Those guns are blowing the hell out of the buildings, Sir! Radar must still be tracking us! They’re trying to hit us right through the damned buildings!”

  “Put us on the ground! Now!”

  *****

  Anselm and Gwen looked up, startled, when the Major and four of his men came busting through the central office, weapons out and faces lethally taught.

  “We’re moving out! Colonel Pierson’s forces are under Anti-Aircraft fire!” Malcolm announced, grabbing up the closest large duffel and landing it on the next closest desk.

  “What!?” Anselm blurted in shock, looking around in confusion.

  “You heard me, Interpol.” The Major replied, fishing an XM-90 Objective Infantry Rifle from the bag and a fistful of clips to go with it. “We’ve got men down in hostile territory, and we’re going to get them out of there.”

  “Hostile territory!?” Gwen yelped, watching as one of the SAS men began assembling an Objective Crew Served Weapon while another prepared the boxes of its 25mm explosive ammunition, “That’s my city out there!”

  “Your city is now my battlefield, Inspector,” Major Malcolm said flatly, “I’ll do my best to limit collateral damages, but I’ve got a job to do now.”

  “But…!”

  Anselm grabbed Gwen’s shoulder, “He’s right, Gwen.”

  “What!?” She glared, spinning on him.

  “If they’ve got anti-aircraft guns out there, this isn’t a police matter anymore, Gwen.” He told her grimly, “We’re way past police keeping. Where do you keep your riot gear?”

  “Riot…In the armory, downstairs…” She blinked, shaking her head. “What are…?”

  “Let’s go.” He told her firmly, taking her arm.

  “But…explosives! In my city!”

  “Come on,” He growled, nodding to the Lieutenant in charge of the Interpol STRT unit, “Greene, get your people prepped.”

  “Yes Sir,” Green nodded, flick
ing a gesture to his men and woman. “We’ll be ready to go, Sir.”

  Anselm nodded to him, then glanced back at Malcolm. “There is one problem, Major.”

  “Oh, and what would that be, Interpol?”

  “The virus.” Anselm said grimly, “We don’t have time. We’ve got to stop them from deploying the virus.”

  The SAS man grew rigid, his face freezing, “If you’re suggesting that we leave men down…”

  “Major!” Anselm snapped, “They’ll all be infected too if the virus isn’t contained! The Tower isn’t exactly a secured lab!”

  The Major looked away, his face a mask.

  “They’re soldiers, Major. Like cops, they’ve got their duty and they’ll have to take their chances.” Anselm said softly, “It’s not nice, it’s not pretty, but we’ve got a major situation inside the tower right now. If that’s not dealt with first, a lot of people are going to die. Tell me that they wouldn’t tell you to do your job and let them handle theirs?”

  Malcolm pursed his lips in a grimace, but acknowledging the statement, but not denying it either.

  “We’ll hit the tower, Major, initiate our containment plan,” Anselm said quietly, “Then we’ll do everything possible for those men. Deal?”

  Malcolm nodded slowly in response. “Deal, Agent Gunnar.”

  *****

  “Do we have the locations of those gun sites yet!?”

  “Yes Ma’am! The camouflage was well made, they used materials that are thermally consistent with the background, but we think we’ve found them all.”

  “How sure?”

  “Say ninety percent,” was the answer. “It’s possible that they have sites that were not in range to strike at the Australian choppers, or maybe some portable ordinance and…”

  “If you’re through covering your ass,” Natalie told the man coldly, holding out her hand, “Give me the information.”

  “Uh…right. Here, Ma’am.” The man said, handing her a microdrive.

  “Thank you,” She replied, turning on her heel and walking out.

  A few moments later found her in the central communication room, sliding the microdrive into one of the networked systems.

  “What do you have there, Natalie?” Carl Severson asked as she opened a communications link to the Australian government and another to the consulate portable in Agent Gunnar’s hands.

  “If we’re not going to be allowed to sit in on the game,” She said grimly, “I’m going to try a little backseat driving instead.”

  *****

  “This is the armory,” Gwen said tiredly, unlocking the cage with her badge ID.

  Anselm nodded, pushing the door open, and walked into the small caged room. All the standard police weapons were lining the walls, shotguns, pistols, long rifles. Gear that had probably never seen use outside of the training range in this city, but was still kept on station because protocol demanded it.

  There were times when he really loved protocol, Anselm decided. Not often, but there were times. He grabbed one of the two MP7s from the wall, checked it action, and nodded in satisfaction. “This will do.”

  “Pete will be glad to hear that,” Gwen said dryly, eyeing the weapons with an equal mix of distrust and distaste. “He kept these weapons up like they were his religion.”

  “Good man.” Anselm murmured, attaching a sling to the H&K machine pistol and pulling boxes of ammunition from the drawers under the weapon mounts. “Here, take the other one. You are checked out on this, right?”

  Gwen took the weapon gingerly, but nodded. “Yeah. I’m cleared on everything in here.”

  “Good girl,” Anselm smiled, “Take an assault rifle too, I’ve got this…”

  He was reaching for a Daewoo USAS-12A Assault Shotgun, designed by the Korean military establishment for police and paramilitary use, when the portable on his belt hummed and he paused, plucking it out and flicking it open.

  “Gunnar here.”

  “Agent, I’ve got some information for you,” Natalie Cyr told him grimly.

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I’ve given you access to the primary systems of the portable, Agent Gunnar, and I’m now uploading our latest intel on the gun positions around your area. Access the real time satellite imagery, and the software will automatically overlay the gun positions on the imagery.”

  Anselm let out a long breath, then nodded. “Thank you, Ms Cyr.”

  “Given the situation, Agent…” She smiled at him, “Just call me ‘Boss’.”

  He snorted, shaking his head. “Sorry Ma’am, I don’t even call the Director ‘boss’.”

  “How about Natalie then?”

  He nodded, “Alright. That I can do.”

  “Good, Agent. Now I think you have some work to do.”

  Chapter 9

  “The military force is down, Amir.”

  Abdallah nodded, satisfied with the results of the ambush he had laid for the Australian military, only really wishing that he’d been able to drop it on the Americans instead. Still, one didn’t always get what they wanted, and he would make do and be satisfied.

  “Survivors?”

  “Some, at least, Amir,” The technician said apologetically. “Many of the helicopters managed to descend behind the cover of buildings.”

  “Very well, have our men in the city find them, and kill them.”

  *****

  The Black Hawk Helo was listing heavily to the front and right, it’s forward landing gear decorating the asphalt a hundred and fifty meters down the road, forcing the men inside to jump to the ground as the brought their XM-90 rifles to their shoulders and swung around to secure their unlikely and unwanted landing zone while disembarking.

  They fanned out quickly, putting distance between them and the chopper in case the enemy had mortars or genuine artillery positioned inside the city, and quickly secured the area as best they could while half their number ran the mortar risk and formed a human chain to unload the Black Hawk Helo.

  Colonel Pierson checked around them as he ran for the side of a building, two soldiers covering him from either side, and tried to get a sense of his position in the city with little success. The massive spire of the tower vanished into the sky just to the East, so he could guess easy enough what side of the city they had gone down on, but for the moment he was having a hard time matching his location to the mental maps he’d tried to make.

  “Our short range systems are being Jammed, Sir!”

  Pierson nodded to the soldier, slapping him on the shoulder. “The Helo computer link was working fine, get a wire link run back to her systems.”

  “Yes Sir!”

  The Soldier quickly dropped the hard cases with the portable command systems and whipped his hand around in the air a couple times. “Give me some fibre over here!”

  Pierson left them to it as another soldier sprinted over with a spool of nearly thread thin fibre-optic wire, and turned to the closest Lieutenant. “Get me spotters on the rooftops here, here, and over there! I’m going to need an inventory of what we’ve got with us, and all the men who survived the attack as soon as we get a link to the other Helo computers! Move it, son!”

  “Yes Sir!”

  The Lieutenant ran off, grabbed a Sergeant and a couple Corporals, and started snapping orders. Pierson left him to it, and just grabbed another young man by the shoulder of his BDUs, this one a lowly trooper. The Colonel didn’t care much about rank at the moment anyway.

  “Son, you see that big bastard of a tower over there?,” He asked the kid, pointing to the East.

  “Sir! Yes Sir!”

  “Good, I want you to get up on one of these buildings and put an eyeball to that bugger. Somewhere there they’ve got a radar setup that you should be able to spot. Find it for me, Trooper!”

  “Yes Sir!”

  “Watch your ass, son! This place ain’t a trooper friendly environment right now!”

  The young man nodded quickly, “Yes Sir!”

  “Go on then!
Get out of here.”

  Pierson watched the kid run off just as the Lieutenant, Lt Penning he recalled quickly, ran up with the spool of fiber-optic cable unwinding behind him. He paused for a second, slapping the whole thing, spool and all, down into the ‘toilette roll’ on the side of his command computer, then plugged the military standard interface port into the side of his system.

  “You’re online with the Helo computers now Sir!”

  “Good work, Penning!” Pierson said, accessing the computer data-link for information from the other helo transponders.

  He grimaced almost instantly, noting that there were only another three systems still responding to the transponder squawk, and that they were scattered over about three kilometers of the city’s area.

  “This is Colonel Pierson, calling all units. Report in. I say again, report in,” he said calmly into the mic that jutted out from his helmet.

  There was no immediate response.

  *****

  “Where the hell is everyone?”

  “Shut up, Corporal,” Sergeant Bill Harris growled, swinging his XM-90 to cover the rooftops as he and his squad left the smoking wreck of their Black Hawk helo behind where it had ‘landed’ halfway inside a storefront.

  Inside the smoldering machine, their pilot and three of their buddies were already cooling in the desert air, their lives snuffed out in the crash or the mass of anti-aircraft fire that had preceded it, and the survivors were more than a little jumpy as they put some distance between themselves and the pillar of smoke that was announcing their position to the entire world.

  “I’m just saying, Sarge,” Corporal Bingsly murmured softly, “A crash like that…would have brought me running. You think everyone is in the tower now?”

  Harris grimaced, eyes sweeping the streets as much as the muzzle of his rifle. “Naw. There’s a hundred thousand people in this place. You ever try to get a couple dozen civies to go the same direction? It’s fucking near impossible. They probably got wind of something and are trying to ride it out in their homes.”

  “Jesus, Sarge, I’ve never seen a goddamned city without some traffic in the streets!” Bingsly hissed.

  “Don’t you pay any attention to the briefings??” A trooper hissed in response, “This whole town is rigged for public transportation, see those rails that run right into the building over there? Here you ride or you walk. The streets are probably like this normally!”