by William Lee
Snap pulled the lever, and the top of the container opened. A crystal sphere rose out of the rover and began to spin. As the man-sized crystal sphere spun it began to glow, and then shards of light shot from the sphere, reaching farther and farther away from the rover.
“Bob, what are you seeing up there?” Snap asked.
“I got a Mig-31 three minutes from visual.”
“Jesus Bob, that’s the most I have ever heard you say.”
“I can still see you, the ship and the fucking fireworks display that you and Johnson are putting on,” Bob said from the ridge above.
Just then, the shards of light smoothed out and disappeared. The crystal sphere glowed with a dull, whitish gray color, radiating evenly from its surface.
“Bob, what do you see up there?”
“A MiG-31 in the distance”
“And?” Snap asked.
“And you have disappeared.”
“Hell yes. What else?”
“The tower and super structure have completely disappeared, looks like freshly fallen snow banks,” Bob replied.
“And the bow of the ship?”
“It can be seen, but it is buried up against the trench wall. So unless you are looking for it, you could miss it.”
“Stay tuned into the pilot’s radio frequency. If he says anything that makes you believe he sees us, shoot him down with the EMP cannon,” Snap ordered.
“Roger that.”
Snap and Jackson stood next to the rover monitoring the diagnostic reports for the three-dimensional projected holographic image.
“Everything looks fine. We have enough power to last several hours. Just under 75 percent of the ship is hidden from view,” Jackson said.
The MiG-31 flew overhead, and Bob did not take a shot at it with the EMP cannon.
“Major Slade, no radio communication from pilot. If he spotted us, he didn’t mention it.”
“Jackson, stay here with the rover. Leave on the PID until the MiG is safely out of the area, then shut it down to conserve power. I’ve got cargo to move,” Snap ordered, as he stomped off toward the ship’s smoldering hulk.
“Bob, good work. You and Taylor stay up on that ridge and keep an eye out for any Russian movement.”
“Roger that.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Moscow Russia
Nox Bellator stood on the flight deck next to his anti-gravity fighter, five levels below the tarmac, just outside of Moscow. There were five antigravity fighters sitting in a circular formation on the flight deck, directly below a large shaft that led to the surface.
“Open the blast doors; I will be leaving soon,” Nox commanded the Russian officer.
“Yes Sir,” he replied, as he quickly moved to the control panel.
“General Bellator, we have received reports back from Magadan,” Popov said.
“And?”
“So far, the pilot’s reports are less than helpful. All six sites were located. All six show signs of massive explosions. Well, actually, one shows a smaller blast radius.”
“Anything else stand out about the smaller site?”
“Not really, just that its impact zone was strange in appearance, not as symmetrical as the others.”
“Anything else?”
“Based on the pilot’s reports there were no signs of manmade debris or people at any of the locations,” Popov replied.
“When will we have the analyst’s reports on the pictures taken from the fly over?”
“That is our top priority; they should be complete before you land in Magadan,” Popov said.
“I’m not going to Magadan first,” Nox said.
“Where will you be heading first, Sir?”
“I’m going straight to the anomalous site,” Nox answered.
“By yourself? Do you want back up?”
“I commanded an interstellar warship for hundreds of years. I think I can handle a crater in Siberia.”
“Very well. I will make sure the folks at the Magadan airport expect your delayed arrival.”
Nox was wearing his full armor and helmet. He stood head and shoulders over the Russian General. “Where are we on troop deployment?”
“Sir, I have deployed the Pacific Fleet to the Port of Magadan. They should be there in 10 hours, along with air support. We keep the Sea of Okhotsk free of ice and open for shipping traffic year around. Magadan Airport however is another story. It is under a winter storm advisory and is facing near whiteout conditions. Your antigravity fighter can make it, but the fighters are having trouble landing. Also, it is a small airport, not really prepared for large scale military functions. Moving planes through there will take time.”
“How long until I get boots on the ground at these locations?”
“The fighters detected low levels of radiation from the impacts.”
“I didn’t ask about radiation levels, General.”
“No Sir. We will have paratroopers at each location in a few hours.”
“How many?”
“We can drop 90 paratroopers from a Mi-26 T2 helicopter. They are being readied now, as we speak.”
“Very well, I want boots on the ground at each location, ASAP. I will be at the anomalous site in a little under one hour.”
Nox turned and entered his anti-gravity fighter. In a few minutes, he was flying through the gray, winter Russian sky at over 7,000 miles per hour. The anti-gravity technology allowed for the smoothest of rides, even through the harshest weather conditions. Nox verbally commanded the ship to the known coordinates and leaned back in the pilot’s seat to ponder what he might find in Magadan.
Nox, a leader of leaders, did not give into fantasy easily. But lately his plans to unite the Earth under one rule had stalled out. The Council of Three Hundred were bickering over the same old crap and unable to see the big picture. He needed a break, something to force the world leaders back to the table. This may be just the thing, or it may just be a strange meteor shower.
Then, his thoughts wondered to the past, a time when things were simpler. When politics were black-and-white, good was good, and evil was evil. He thought of his old adversary: Dale Matthews. Often, he wondered how Dale was doing. At this point, Dale was a very old man, weak and frail. But that’s not how Nox remembered him. Nox remembered Dale as the fearless warrior that stared him down in an underground tunnel. The only man that ever bested him. He would pay Dale a visit someday, someday soon, because Dale did not have much time left.
As Nox was mentally visualizing what Dale would look like after roaming the Earth for 90 years, the emergency siren rang, and the cabin lights faded to red. Nox was jolted back to reality. Apparently, his technologically advanced anti-gravity fighter was not completely impervious to harsh Russian winters.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Magadan Oblast
Snap checked the schematics of the ship, which had been downloaded to the display on his forearm. Snap glanced at the massive ship; even crashed, it rose over a hundred feet into the air. Inside, the ship was dark, making it difficult to walk through the scattered debris, boxes and smashed up cargo. The Element 115 was supposed to be on Deck 12 of the superstructure. The tower was of no interest to Snap and his team; it was several hundred feet away in a separate debris field.
Snap climbed through charred rubble to reach the first level that was not destroyed in the crash. He estimated that the first seven levels have been completely obliterated under the weight of the ship. His FALOS armor made the climb easy, if not relatively safe. Inside, the broken ship was dark; he oriented himself with the schematic on his forearm display. Cargo and passenger elevators were destroyed. Snap found the nearest stairwell. He carefully moved up the stairs, scanning for signs that it may have weakened to the point of near collapse.
Once on Deck 12, He realized just how massive the ship had once been. This section of Deck 12 was over 600 feet long. It appeared to be structurally sound, except for the fact that both ends were exposed to the element
s where the rest of the ship had been sheared off. At the top of the stairs, Snap looked to his left, where he saw where the ship had been ripped apart, and snow was just starting to blow onto the exposed metal decking. When he turned to his right, he saw six of his men, in FALOS suits, searching through debris. The high-powered LED beams, coming from the sides of their helmets, pierced the darkness, making of them easy to spot.
“Lightning Squad, find anything yet?” Snap asked into the COM.
“Not yet, Major.” The men did not turn around and look at him approaching; they just continued moving containers from where they had piled up along one side of the ship during the crash.
“Damn. There must be 3,000 containers on this section alone,” Snap said.
Neal West responded, “Yeah, and they are all piled up on top of one another. Even with our FALOS suits, it takes two of us to move one container. Moving three containers at a time, it will take a long time to find what we are looking for. If it is even in this section of the ship.”
“Our data link gave us a description of the containers, but without an actual picture, we don’t really know what we are looking for,” Jackson said.
“Are these containers you are moving powered?” Snap asked.
“Don’t appear to be, Major. They look like regular storage containers, dry goods, equipment, and electronics,” Williams replied.
“The description says the units we are looking for have independent power sources to maintain the integrity of the Element 115. Do you suppose those power sources are still functional?” Snap asked.
Neal said, “I don’t see why not. If they are independent of the ship, unless they were damaged in the crash they should still work.”
“Major, most of these boxes appear to be undamaged. I see no reason why the Element 115 containers would be damaged, if they are in this section of the ship,” Miller added.
“I’m thinking if they are powered, they may be emitting some type of light source, even if it is just an indicator light,” Snap said.
“We have not seen anything like that, Sir,” Williams said.
West said, “Maybe we should turn off our LED spot lights and look in the dark for a light source.”
“Everyone, turn off your helmet lights,” Snap ordered through the COM. The 600-foot section of Deck 12 went dark. It took a few minutes for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. The only thing they could see was a faint light of falling white snow through the large openings at either end of the superstructure.
“I don’t see anything,” Neal complained.
“We can’t see well enough to move containers in this darkness,” Williams said.
“We are not going to move containers. Just walk around and look for a container emitting light of any kind,” Snap said.
Twenty minutes later, they returned to the middle of the deck. None of them had seen a light being emitted from a container.
“We have to find a way to locate the Element 115 without moving 3,000 containers,” West declared.
Snap remarked, “We did not see anything with the spotlights off, but our vision is still impaired by the low-level light in our HUD.”
“Sure, but that’s a very dim, green light. It should not affect our vision that much.”
“But the glow would affect our vision a little. We should turn off our HUD and lift our visors, so we have no light competing for our eyes’ attention. In total darkness, our eyes should be able to adjust to find any light source,” Snap said.
“Yeah, but it’s not really total darkness. We do have some light coming from outside the ship,” West insisted.
“True, but that is still less than the HUD in our helmets.”
“We can’t be without helmets for long, it is minus 47 degrees outside,” Moore said.
“Suck it up, buttercup,” said West.
“Men, this is going to be a bit chilly, but I need you to turn off your HUD and lift your visors. We are going to look for any light source being emitted from the piles of containers,” directed Snap.
“Hot damn, it’s colder than a Tajuana whore’s heart!” Miller exclaimed.
“You would know, Miller,” Justin Thomas said, with a laugh.
“Holy shit, my face has never been this cold before,” Moore cried.
“Five minutes, seven minutes tops, and then you can put your visors back on,” Snap countered. “Everyone look for any container that is emitting light of some kind.”
A few minutes later, Justin Thomas yelled from 50 yards away, “Hey, I think I got something.” Everyone ran toward him.
“See, look there,” Thomas said, pointing at a container stacked up behind several other large containers, so that only a small corner of it was visible.
“Damn, you are right. I see it. Let’s move these boxes and see what we got back there,” Senior Master Sergeant Anderson said.
Visors went back down so that faces would not get frost bite and the men went to work digging out the container that was emitting a tiny light. A few minutes later, it was pulled free of the other boxes and sitting in the middle of the deck. The squad stood around it as Snap examined the container. It was roughly the size of a large coffin, with handles along the sides. The container was made of a metallic substance, and the top had what appeared to be a touch screen display, emitting a soft blue light.
“It looks like the display is showing us monitoring data from the contents,” Snap said.
“Can you read it?” Moore asked.
“No. But, if they set up their display data like we do, it appears all systems are operating within acceptable ranges,” Snap said. “Of course, it could also be a self-destruct countdown, and we have five seconds to live. How the fuck should I know? I don’t read alien.”
“Okay, let’s start digging through this section here,” West said.
An hour later the men had stacked up two dozen containers of Element 115.
“That’s 80,000 pounds of the Element. I thought there was supposed to be 100,000 pounds here,” Snap said, as he leaned up against a large pile of discarded containers.
“We have searched most of the area around here, and have not found any other containers with Element 115.”
“There has got to be more. Keep looking,” Snap ordered.
Bob’s voice came over the COM, “We have a large helo landing 200 yards behind my position, looks like a Mi-26 T2.”
“Can you take it out with the EMP rifle?” Snap asked.
“Negative, Major. The weather is pretty bad out here, got less than 50 yards of visibility.”
“Move into a position where you can take out the helo with the EMP rifle. Don’t give away your position until you have a clear shot. We don’t want them communicating to their command that we are here, or that this is the site where they should be looking.”
“Roger that Major; I will hit the chopper with the EMP before they figure out we are here and have an opportunity to radio for backup.”
Bob, the newest member of Lightning Squad, if that is in fact what he was, slung the EMP rifle over his shoulder, while toting the six-barreled machine gun in his right hand. Bob, at nine feet tall, made carrying the modified M134D-H minigun and 4,000 rounds of 7.51 ammo look easy.
Bob said into his COM, “Taylor, you stay here and watch over the squad. I’m going to deal with the helo that just landed behind our position.”
“Roger that Bob”
The snow was blinding. Bob switched his HUD to thermal imaging as he hunched over and sprinted towards the helo. Through the blinding snow, Bob could not see the helo, but his HUD showed the red heat signature of the helo in the distance. The red splotch on his HUD, indicating a heat source, began to spread and widen until it was not one, but dozens, of red spots on his HUD.
“Major Slade, the helo has deployed dozens of men. They are approaching my position. It is unlikely I could eliminate all of them.”
“Have they seen you?”
“No.”
“Then continue wit
h your mission. Take out the helo. We will deal with the Russians,” Snap said.
Snap turned to Lightning Squad, “Alright, we have Russians approaching. One hundred and fifty yards out. Unknown strength. Williams and Johnson, you take positions up here on Deck 12 and cover us. The rest of you, follow me.” Snap and the men headed toward the stairwell.
West hurried along next to Snap, “There are only ten of us, two on Deck 12, two on the ridge and six on the ground, and one of those is operating the PID. How many Russians did Bob say there were?”
“He didn’t. But we know a Russian helo can carry nearly 100 troops; so, I’m guessing.”
“Looks like the Russians are at company strength,” Bob said into the COM, from one hundred yards behind the ridge. “They are fanning out into squads and will be on the ridge in about five minutes. Squads are about 50 yards apart from each other. I don’t see how we could take them out quickly.”
Snap said, “Take out the helo. We can handle the Russians, just don’t let them radio back.”
“The Russian command will know we are here when the helo fails to report,” West observed.
“Yep. Better the Russians suspect we are here, then have it confirmed. Once they receive visual confirmation that we are here, they will hit us with everything they can muster. If they just think a helo went down in a snow storm, they may hesitate,” Snap said, as he and the other men reached ground level.
“Williams, Johnson, make sure you got that ridge covered where Bob and Taylor were. That’s where the Russians are going to appear first. Don’t shoot until we have confirmation that Bob has shut down the helo.”
“Roger that.”
“Lightning Squad, take up defensive positions every 20 yards or so along the trench. Hopefully we can hit them as they attempt to repel down the rock wall. Don’t fire until my mark,” Snap ordered. The five men ran along the bottom of the trench and took up positions amongst the debris with the ship at their backs. Each man was hidden behind rocks or pieces of the ship’s hull, with their DE rifles trained on the ridgeline above them.
