Wanda

by carl smothers

  Zarate waited for a few minutes to let the smoke and dirt subside. They’re totally confused, he thought. Time to initiate phase two. “Right flank, open fire!” he ordered. The assault had the impact he wanted. The dual flank attack caught the SWG security guards in an intense deadly crossfire. The death toll was mounting rapidly.

  Olmid, the head of SWG security, knew he couldn’t defend the facility for long. Dead MOA warriors littered the ground, some with their arms and legs blown off, and others blown in half with their guts spilled out. Olmid’s eyes burned and his lungs hurt from the intense smoke and dirt. Bits of grit imbedded in his face stung like hell, and blood spotted from the wounds.

  He had lost many soldiers and the cross fire was having devastating effects. In desperation, he picked up his communicator. “General, we’re under heavy attack,” he yelled. “I’ve lost quite a few men. I need reinforcements immediately. I don’t think we can hold them off much longer, especially if they make a frontal attack.”

  “I’ll order more guards to the front. Do not let them in the facility.”

  Within a minute, after the alarm sounded, guards poured into the tunnel leading to the front. The incoming gunfire was so intense; many were killed as soon as they exited the tunnel. Their blood stained the ground.

  Zarate waited until the last reinforcements entered the compound. Time for phase three. He then keyed his communicator. “Start the frontal assault,” he ordered.

  The gunfire caught Olmid’s guards in a three-way crossfire. The armored vehicle started up, and the heavy weapons crew shot high power impulse rounds into the security gates. The expertly placed rounds blew the entire front of the security perimeter down. Once the gates were blown, the armored vehicle accelerated down the hill into the perimeter. Its two-axial guns shot 3,000 rounds a minute at an angle of one hundred and eighty degrees. It was impossible for the defenders to escape the cloud of projectiles. The high caliber bullets tore men apart. Within two minutes, almost all of the MOA guards were dead.

  To Zarate’s dismay, an MOA RPG hit the armored vehicle. It exploded in a violent yellow fireball. Secondary explosions shattered the air as the ammunition exploded, creating huge yellow fireballs. Steel and fire rained down on the facility. Damn it, we needed that vehicle, he thought. Zarate caught a glimpse of the remaining MOA guards escaping through the steel doors to the inner tunnel.

  Zarate signaled his demolition team to the steel doors. Once the charges were set, he moved them back and then activated the explosives. The charges ripped the steel doors apart with such force; they flew up in the air and tumbled end over end landing with a loud crash, fifty feet from the entrance to the inner tunnel. This won’t take long. We’ve eliminated most of the facility security forces. Zarate could hear sporadic gunfire, but nothing serious. Just a bit of mopping up and it’ll be all over.

  “General, they’ve blown the steel outer doors, and I’m afraid they’ll enter the facility shortly,” Olmid yelled into his communicator. “I only have a hand full of warriors left. We’re just outside the inner security chamber doors. I don’t think we can keep them out any longer. What do you want me to do?”

  “Calm down, Olmid, and let them come in to the tunnel. Take out as many as possible, then bring your security forces inside and secure the inner steel doors.”

  “Yes, sir.” The order confused Olmid, but he obeyed his commander. He regrouped his guards and began to lay down zone fire at the incoming attackers.

  Dogging a swarm of bullets, the enemy soldiers rushed into the tunnel. They sprayed the tunnel with automatic weapon fire, and launched small impulse grenades that threw concrete and dirt into the air when they exploded. Olmid watched carefully as they pressed forward, intensifying the attack. The sound of gunfire and impulse grenades reverberated through the tunnel.

  His ears hurt and his face burned like fire. Rounds ricocheted off the walls — more treacherous than direct fire. Instinctively, Olmid ducked as two barely missed him. A third ripped the turban from his head and almost took his ear off. He cried out in pain. The ricochet is worse than the direct fire. Shit, it’s like being in a swarm of angry hornets. He hugged the floor. It’ll be a miracle if any of us survive. He could feel the warm blood slowly running down the side of his face. His ear was hurting so bad it made him wince.

  One of his men jumped up and tried to open the doors. An RPG hit him in the back. Arms, legs and torso parts splattered off the doors. Blood and internal body parts covered Olmid. He wiped the blood off his glasses with his sleeve. Several men finally pried the doors open.

  Olmid and four of his soldiers retreated into the inner security chamber and secured the steel doors. Olmid knew if the intruders broke into this chamber and killed his defenders, it would be impossible to keep them out of the main control center below. The bullets bounced off the steel as the attackers moved closer. They’ll blow the doors and be in here shortly, he thought. Lost over a hundred of my best soldiers to those dogs. For the first time in his life, Olmid believed his time had come.

  Blood dripped from the multitude of small wounds inflicted by grit and rock embedded in Olmid’s face and scalp. His ears rang so loud he could hardly hear, and the ear that was bleeding from the bullet wound throbbed intensely. If they broke through, he couldn’t hold them off. The general’s order still puzzled him.

  “General, we’ve entered the outer chamber and secured the doors. What next?”

  “Do nothing,” the general replied.

  “Sir, I do not understand. They’ll be in here in just a few minutes.”

  “Olmid, I did not get to be a general by being stupid. I have everything under control.”

  What in the hell is he talking about? Is he nuts? Olmid thought.

  The general sipped tea, then casually accessed the facility defense menu on his console. He entered his code highlighting the tunnel cleansing routine, and then activated the tunnel cameras. Dust and smoke filled the tunnel way, obscuring normal vision, so he selected the sensor fusion mode set to an optical and IR mix. He listened to the bullets of the attacker’s automatic weapons as they bounced off the steel doors. They almost sound like a snare drum, he thought. Sone took another drink of tea and admired his cup. I sure love this tea cup. The little flower design is so pretty.

  The Optical/IR mode of the camera enabled him to see through the smoke and dirt that filled the tunnel way. He pushed a button and then watched carefully as Zarate and his men approached the doors and placed the charges. Before they could set the timers, Sone pushed a button and white smoke poured from pipes along the top of the tunnel. The gas rapidly filled the tunnel way.

  “Wait!” Zarate screamed as he stared in horror at the white smoke. “Get out! It’s poison gas. Run for the entrance!”

  Several of the men gagged and drew scarves over their mouths and noses. Their faces contorted in terror as they coughed uncontrollably, then grabbed at their throats as they fell to the tunnel floor, their bodies convulsing in pain.

  They tried to escape, but it was too late. The gas acted quickly. Several fell on the floor coughing and gagging in front of the doors. The final soldier fell less than six meters away. No one got out. Zarate lay on the tunnel floor convulsing, choking and unable to move. Dead SWG fighters littered the tunnel floor.

  The general waited for fifteen minutes. Poisonous gas and dust filled the tunnel. He activated the exhaust pumps and quickly cleared it out. Guess my little surprise worked. They look so funny sprawled all over the floor. I enjoy watching the gas do its work. I loved seeing them jerk around.

  “Olmid, go into the tunnel. Bring anyone alive back to me.”

  “Yes, General.”

  Olmid took his remaining security forces and reentered the tunnel. As they sorted through the dead bodies, they located five, alive but in bad condition. Zarate was one of them.

  “General, we found five SWG warriors still alive.”

  The general was extremely pleased. He had plans for the remaining enemy warriors.
“Bring them into the security room.”

  The guards savagely beat and stomped the five prisoners, then dragged them to the security room of the control center. Their faces were almost unrecognizable. They knelt with hands tied behind them as the general entered the room. He recognized Zarate, even with his badly mauled face.

  “Welcome to my facility, Zarate. Did you think you could attack us and take this weapon from me? You and your sheik are both stupid. Well, I have a present I am going to send him.”

  Eyes wild with excitement, the general unsheathed his sword and walked behind the five men. “Zarate, you dog,” he said, “you will feel the cold steel of my sword as its cuts through your neck and windpipe. It’s good that your ugly head will still be alive when it hits the floor. I will walk over to it to allow you to watch me laugh at you while you die. My handsome face will be the last thing you ever see.”

  He loved to use his sword — particularly for executions. He raised the gleaming blade high. With one swipe, the razor sharp implement beheaded Zarate. His head fell to the ground and rolled away. Zarate’s body jerked involuntarily from the discharge of a severed nervous system. Blood squirted from his neck in concert with each beat of his dying heart.

  The general laughed hysterically as Zarate died. “He looks like a chicken jerking around on the ground after you’ve wrung its neck,” he said, laughing loudly. “Zarate, can you hear me laughing at you?” After the convulsions stopped, the general wiped his sword on Zarate’s robe and shoved it back into its sheath. He spat on the body, and then turned to Olmid.

  “Strip the remaining dogs’ clothes off, gag and tie them up and pour gasoline on their testicles. Let them rot in the sun for four hours. Then, cut off their heads, wipe their bodies with lard, and then throw their putrid bodies to the buzzards. Get some more security forces here ASAP, and have the maintenance staff clean the tunnel and fix the big doors.”

  Sone went back to his office, poured a cup of tea, and then video linked to Anwar. Yasaid’s image appeared.

  “Hello, General. What can I do for you?”

  “We’ve just been attacked by a large force of SWG warriors, but we killed all of the rabid dogs.”

  Yasaid dropped his teacup onto his desk. The facility was about to go operational. An attack could set them back months. “The damage, General ... how bad?”

  “They blew the tunnel entrance doors open, along with the security gates in the front. We lost a hundred men in the attack.”

  “What about the weapon system? Can you still be operational in ten weeks?”

  “Dr. Lieu told me he will be ready.”

  Yasaid smiled. “The sheik would have been very upset if the attack delayed his plans. His master plan and timetable are already drafted. Very good, General. I plan to be there when you go on-line.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  After the call. Sone laughed loudly between sips of tea as he thought about the upcoming war that was about to start. He was eager to get revenge on those who had wronged him over the years.

  I wonder what Zaman will think when he receives my little present. Wish I could see the bastard’s face when it arrives. It makes me laugh to just think about it.

  Chapter 38

  SWG HQ

  Beirut, Lebanon

  In early morning Beirut, Sheik Zaman, head of the SWG, arrived at this office. It would be a day filled with meetings to discuss further attacks on the MOA. There had been no reports from the Waziristan Valley. Zarate had not called in or returned his calls. I wonder what’s going on. He was very puzzled; the thought of failure concerned him greatly.

  He sat at his desk drinking tea and eating a roll with cheese when the phone rang. After the call, the sheik informed his secretary, “We have a crate at the shipping office. Please make arrangements for pickup and delivery today.”

  “Yes, Your Grace, immediately.”

  The crate arrived at 3 p.m., as scheduled. His secretary was busy trying to open it when the sheik walked in.

  “What do we have?”

  “I’m just now getting the top off. It’s filled with some kind of packing material. It has a funny odor. There’s an envelope on top — must be an invoice.” The secretary handed it to him.

  He opened it while she went back to removing the packing. It read, ‘A present from the MOA and General Sone. Enjoy’.

  What could this possibly mean, he thought.

  His secretary gasped. “Sheik, you have to see this. It’s horrible. I can’t stand to look at it. The smell is atrocious.”

  The sheik stared into the crate. Inside were a large packet of tea and the heads of five of his men with Zarate’s on top. He raced into the bathroom and threw up.

  The attack had failed, and the MOA knew he was responsible. There would be severe repercussions. Time was running out, and he needed to regroup his forces before the MOA retaliated. The power struggle between the two groups was about to get much bloodier.

  Chapter 39

  STL

  Wormhole Development Facility

  New Mexico

  The mole had created havoc with the Alpha Centauri mission. The next planned flight was only days away, and Harry worried what the traitor might do next. His ruthless acts cost Lieutenant Jones his life, and almost killed everyone else on the Orion. It ate at Harry’s gut. He felt responsible for Joneses death. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help feeling he could have done more to stop the terrorist. The booze wasn’t helping. The mole is someone we like and trust, but who is it? Who would betray their friends, and then act like nothing happened when he killed someone he knew and worked with?

  Harry’s team had implemented extensive new system safeguards, virus strategies, log-on procedures and access monitoring protocols. Internal subterfuge was difficult to counter especially if the adversary knew what you were doing. The mole was highly intelligent and carefully executed his plans. It had become a cat and mouse game. So far, he had evaded all of their security traps. It frustrated his team to be in a constant reaction mode. Why not? He knows exactly what we’re doing. Our only hope is he makes a mistake.

  Scott Kimberly walked in and disrupted Harry’s thoughts. “Good morning, Harry. Have a good weekend?”

  “Morning, Scott. It’s good to see you. We had a great time in Albuquerque. How about you?”

  “Fantastic. I met a lady at the golf course, ninth hole, who turned out to be the local golf pro. We spent the weekend on the greens. She’s good, but I held my own with her. You know, this is the first woman I’ve met socially since my wife died several years ago. It was nice to have female companionship again.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Andrea Nicolas, but she goes by Andy. Yes, she’s distantly related.”

  Harry just smiled. “How bad did she beat you?”

  Scott shoved himself back in his chair, grinning. “Just a hundred bucks and two dinners. Could have been worse.”

  “Sounds like you’ve met your match,” Harry said.

  Scott flashed Harry a half face grin. “You know, I really like Andy. She’s charming, lovely and one hell of a golfer. It’s been lonely living alone so long and not having anyone or anything in my life except work. It was great meeting someone who shares my interests, and she’s so easy to talk to. I love to golf with her. If last weekend’s any indication though, I think my checking accounts in serious jeopardy.”

  “Well, that’s simple. Just don’t bet.”

  “Hell, Harry, that wouldn’t be any fun. Besides, I think I can beat her. She just caught me on an off day.”

  Harry couldn’t help grinning. “Pepper and Michelle will want to meet her, and so do I. Maybe we could all have an evening on the town together.”

  “I think she’d like that. Not to change the subject, but I want to talk to you about the next flight.”

  “Okay, what’s up?”

  Scott looked Harry straight in the eye. “I was content to sit it out on the beach last time because I kne
w you needed me here. This is our last test flight, and I don’t want to be left out.” Scott leaned forward and touched his fist on the desk. He studied Harry’s face intently, anxiously awaiting his reply. Before Harry had a chance to reply, he added, “I have to be a part of this. I’ve spent my whole life teaching relativistic mechanics. Now I have a chance to experience its implementation first hand. I need to go ... I have to go.”

  Harry thought about the time Scott had busted his chops after his orals and let him sit in that hallway for an hour and a half. He pretended he was thinking and fiddled with his Qtab for effect. Slowly, he gave Scott a sad look, which he purposefully held for effect.

  Scott stared at him, studying Harry’s face, obviously concerned about his response.

  Finally, holding the sad look as long as he could, Harry laughed and broke into a smile. “I was planning to talk to you about it today. You just beat me to the punch. Ronnie told me you were stewing over this. We really did need you to stay behind last time. Too many things that might require your expertise to save our butts. The situation has changed, so there’s no way I would have left you out of this one. You and Ronnie are both on the flight team.

  Scott let out a big breath in a whoosh. “That’s a relief, and thanks. Ronnie and I’ve been talking about nothing else. He told me Michelle wasn’t too keen on the idea, but she knows what it means to him, so she won’t stand in his way.” Scott took a swig of coffee before he went on. “Great! I’ll look forward to reviewing the crew assignments. Harry, this trip’s important to me. I couldn’t stand being left behind.”

  “I fully understand. It could be very dangerous. That mole’s still active and there’s no telling what he might do next. I still remember you asking me if I had a death wish in our relativity class. Sometimes I think maybe I do.”