Hawks Effect_Dangerous Reunion

by Rael Wissdorf

  “That was great!” she gushed. “You pulled that man from the jaws of death like it was nothin’! You are amazing!”

  Galicia flushed at the praise as the others came close. Sinza flashed a rare smile as she reached out and embraced her comrade warmly.

  “Good job soldier. Well done. Personally, I don’t know if I would have done it or not, judging by our current situation, but you always were the compassionate one.”

  “Well, I couldn’t just stand by and let him die,” Galicia protested mildly.

  “No you couldn’t,” Sinza replied. “And I’m proud of you for that.”

  Once she relaxed her hold on her friend, Laurina, who had been waiting patiently to congratulate her sister, took the blonde in her arms and hugged her tight. “You did it, Gal! You did it!” she exclaimed. “Good show!”

  Galicia smiled.

  “Yeah, I guess the bugger will live.”

  “No, love,” her older sister corrected, as she looked into her eyes.

  “You made it! You’ve become a doctor after all!”

  The enormity of her statement hit Galicia like a sledgehammer. To be a physician had always been her lifelong dream, but due to a lack of funding, it had to be put on the back burner. Even after accepting the appointment to Colonel Keren's project which had promised to provide for her medical training, she still needed to put in enough service time to qualify. After arriving with Sinza Flanagan in Nedara, the young Brit soon realized that due to the circumstances, her dream of becoming an M.D. had all but vanished entirely. Stuck in this strange new world, and after making several key contacts, Galicia had accepted the discipline of Initiator training because of need and expediency. It never occurred to her that she now actually held the keys to life and death just like a real physician. The true fact of the matter was, in this world, she could benefit the lives of her patients on a far greater scale than even the most premier surgeons she had ever known could. That was an amazing thought and a sobering one.

  Tears escaped her eyes unexpectedly.

  “I guess you’re right as always Laur,” she sniffed while wiping away the errant fluid. “In this world at least, I am a doctor.”

  Chapter 16

  An hour later, the interior of the abandoned warehouse was a flurry of activity as the men from Aeternus repacked their gear and prepared to move out from their emergency sanctuary at the edge of Gorski Park. Captain Asamodai had relented a bit after all and allowed Specialist Hull an additional half hour to rest and regain his strength. The road in front of their building had been nearly empty of both foot and vehicle traffic for the last two hours, and one of his scouts informed him that the guard at the Canidae Bridge had just been changed. The Aeternus commander had decided that this was the perfect time to make their getaway.

  “So our objective is SubLupina,” he addressed the group with authority. “Now I know that might make some of you a bit apprehensive, but you’ll just have to deal with it. While I would prefer another alternative, the Dracs have made that decision for us, so we’ll play the hand that we’ve been dealt, and make the best of it. First thing’s first, however. Our Intel says that the checkpoint at the foot of the bridge is monitored by a four-man team. We need to take them out and knock out the equipment as quietly as possible. Once that’s done, we’ll make our way across the bridge and over to the island. There is a Recall station located several miles within the island’s interior, and I plan for us to reach it in short order. Hopefully, we’ll be far enough across that if we are discovered, the Dracs will think twice about pursuing us. With any luck, we’ll all be at the Towers by nightfall. Now I need two men…”

  Laurina allowed the droning of Asamodai’s voice to slip below her consciousness as a feeling of apprehension began to slowly creep into her thoughts.

  Why is he so dodgy about going to SubLupina? Even the mention of the name has the soldiers murmuring. What is it about that place that gives them pause?

  She asked Sinza and Galicia about it, but neither of them had ever visited the area since their arrival in Nedara and had not heard a thing about it. Doro wasn’t much help either.

  “Well, I know that the Draconians stay away from there,” she replied. And the SubLupinans don’t come here. They used to be friends with Aeternus, but that was a long time ago. The current residents have a treaty with them or something, that’s all I know. But I heard that the only people they allow to cross the Canidae Bridge and enter the island are artists and outdoorsy types, and if any of them return to the Draconian side, they are heavily interrogated at the checkpoint before being allowed back into the city.”

  The SubLupinans sound like a pacifist culture. Why are the Draconians afraid of artists and nature lovers? More importantly, why is the Aeternus military so wary of them if the SubLupinans are their allies? It just doesn’t make sense. Guess it’ll have to wait till I find a moment to speak with Gavrael.

  Captain Asamodai received an “all clear” from the men who were guarding the perimeter and nodded to two men who had volunteered for the infiltration of the checkpoint.

  “You have your orders. Move out!” he commanded.

  The air around the Draconian checkpoint hummed deeply as the CCE generator supplied power to the force field that extended across the width of the road. The menacing orange shimmer was a clear warning to anyone approaching the bridge, that passage into and out of Draconian territory was carefully monitored. Access could only be gained through the personnel who guarded the massive span, and then only after undergoing a grueling interrogation. As a result, the guard crew rarely received travelers. It was a very boring detail.

  The four men currently occupying the structure were in a great mood, however, thanks to events that happened at the Arena. Although the previous crew that they had relieved reported no activity for their entire shift, the newly arrived Draconian Troopers had plenty to speculate about to relieve their boredom. Three of the four men were lounging outside the small building, talking excitedly about the gladiator contests, the new redhead woman who killed Praetor, and her escape from the Arena. The fourth excused himself to go to the toilet.

  The soldiers were totally unaware that death was swiftly approaching.

  Sharp grunts of pain split the air as the trio quickly fell prey to the poison darts that whistled toward them from the nearby trees of Gorski Park. Each small bolt was barbed to ensure it would embed itself deep into their flesh, while the force of impact powered a lethal injection of neurotoxin into its victim. Five seconds later, the three soldiers slumped to the ground, having breathed their last. Once the men went down, two dark figures bolted from their hiding places, their feet making no sound as they made their way to the downed soldiers. A quick check confirmed that the darts had done their work, and the two infiltrators stole into the small building like wraiths, looking for the fourth Draconian soldier. They found him drying his hands as he emerged from the bathroom. Seeing the enemy, the man dropped his towel and reached for his pistol. It was a futile gesture. Before the towel hit the floor, he was dead; the victim of a dart that had buried itself deep into his carotid artery.

  A careful search confirmed that no other soldiers were present in the small building. Moving quickly, the SpecOps duo dragged the three bodies inside and dumped them into the restroom alongside their dead comrade. Finding the communications console, Bobby Grant disabled the controls, while Kelly Moor realigned the cameras to face away from the bridge structure, allowing anyone traveling on the span to pass unseen. Once that was completed, the barrier controls were powered down, then disabled. The orange field shimmered for a few seconds before winking out of existence. Mission accomplished, Moor depressed a small button near his throat.

  Captain Asamodai smiled grimly as the transmitter he wore on his wrist beeped three times.

  “Alright folks, we are go. Move out!"

  Two of the men who were guarding the building’s perimeter, Castor Marx and Simon “Fish” Poli were assigned as scouts. Like trained nin
ja, they slipped through the trees ahead of the main group, and disappeared into the brush, traveling just outside the edge of the main road. Within moments, they reported back that the way was clear to the Canidae Bridge. Asamodai moved forward to the main road with, Grant, Moor, Jace Avant, Dietrich Goethe and Albert “Money” Banks in tow. Laurina, Galicia, Sinza and Lil Doro left next, encircled by Corporal Means, Ichiro “Itchy” Yoshida, Cameron Toms, Aram Lee, Cole “Action” Jaxon, Tully Rudd, and Yuri Marinov. They were followed closely behind by Sergeant Cyrus Briggs and Specialist Walter Boyd, who shouldered the recovering Nathan Hull between them amidst his whispered protests about being “babied.” Lieutenant Gavrael and Sergeant Hanzoh Chun brought up the rear along with the remaining two perimeter soldiers, Arlo Nix and Nicolas “Nico” Sanchez. Within moments, as dusk began to descend, the entire company disappeared through the trees, and out of sight of the old warehouse.

  Chapter 17

  Wenzel Cask was having a bad day.

  First, he had a fight with his wife over the fact that he spent money for a front row seat at the Arena to see the afternoon slate of matches. Being short of funds earlier in the week, his friends Lon and Perly, after much pleading had fronted the money for his ticket in advance, so they could all sit together and watch the fights up close. His wife, who hated his gladiator obsession, was irate that he would waste money on such a frivolous activity rather than use it for the house, and emphatically voiced her displeasure. The fact that he had promised to make good on his financial obligation to his buddies, somehow didn’t seem to matter to her.

  Stupid cow!

  It didn’t help matters that halfway to the Arena, Wenzel found that he had forgotten his wallet. His friends berated him all the way back to his house. Of course, once he ran inside to retrieve it, he had to hear it all over again from his wife.

  Some days it just doesn’t pay to get outta bed.

  His troubles continued once they arrived at the sports complex. He placed bets on each of his favorite fighters and purchased a huge “Burly Man” cup of beer at the concession stand before heading to their seats. It was breathtaking to be so close to where the action would take place, and he was excited at the prospect. His excitement was dampened considerably, however, when the man sitting to his left accidentally struck his arm, and Wenzel promptly dumped the entire 64 ounces of beer into his own lap. Of course, he couldn’t give the offender the beating he deserved or even complain, since the man was 6’7” and 400 pounds of muscle, and looked more like he belonged on the sand than sitting in the stands. The stupid jerk didn’t even offer to pay to replace his beer either, just mumbled a half-hearted apology. Wenzel sat sullenly in his seat amid a huge pile of wet napkins, while chafing under the snickering of his companions, who ribbed him about how he “wet his pants.”

  The preliminary matches that would have normally brightened his spirits, just made him angry. He bet wrong on all of them, except for the match with Akashita and Lil’ Doro. Then came the Praetor match which should have been easy money. Where the hell did Athena dig up that red-headed bitch from anyway?

  Then the sky exploded before the next match and rained fiery red dust that caught him full in the face. And talk about hurt? Yow! At least he had the presence of mind to run to one of the bathrooms and splash his face in cold water. Spectators were still fleeing the building when he noticed that the nearby betting kiosk was closing amidst the chaos. He quickly ran to the counter and presented his winning slip. Unfortunately, the clerk refused to give him what little money he did manage to win, citing house rules. Per Athena’s orders, in the event of an emergency, all monies were frozen pending an investigation. When Wenzel protested, the man shrugged his shoulders and shut the grate in his face.

  Feeling dejected, he made his way toward one of the exits. After being knocked down and stepped on several times by other people fleeing the Arena, he finally made it to the parking area, only to find that every vehicle in the area where they parked was gone including Lon’s. His friends had left him stranded ten miles from his home!

  Angry as hell, Wenzel pulled out his battered communicator as he limped over to the nearest tavern. After trying several times unsuccessfully to reach Lon, he gave up, ordered food and a beer, and watched the broadcasts for any additional news about the incident. At least the food warmed his belly, and the cold brew dulled the pain of his injuries a bit. Two hours later, after a final fruitless attempt to reach his friend, he gave up and began the long walk home.

  The unkindest cut of all came when he rounded a corner, only to be nearly run over by a Draconian troop carrier rushing from the Arena. He managed to avoid the large vehicle, but unfortunately for his face, not the large boot of the Trooper sitting on the end of it.

  Bruised, battered and almost broke, Wenzel trudged mile after painful mile through the streets of Babylon cursing his life with each step. After walking for what seemed like forever, he had finally made it over a hill, two blocks from his home on the edge of Gorski Park when he saw a large group of people dressed in black heading past the checkpoint and onto the Canidae Bridge toward SubLupina. The way they were moving carefully and constantly looking behind was suspicious. Realization struck him suddenly when he saw that no one was challenging their passage and that the telltale orange glow of the barrier was gone. In fact, there were no soldiers manning the checkpoint at all. There was only one explanation for this in Wenzel’s mind. They had to be soldiers from another Cluster.

  Trying to be as quiet as he could, Cask made his way to a large tree as close to the checkpoint as he dared, while making mental notes of everything he saw. His jaw dropped when he recognized Lil’ Doro among them. Why was she sneaking around with a bunch of non aligned soldiers, he wondered. Once the group was far enough away, he ran the final two blocks to his home and burst inside. Firmly cutting off his wife’s protests, he went straight to the bedroom and slammed the door. After rummaging through papers for several minutes, he found the card he was searching for, grabbed his communicator and dialed a number. Visions of a huge payday danced in his head, and a large smile creased his craggy face as he waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

  Maybe this day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  To be continued…

  HAWKS EFFECT

  Will continue with Episode 4

  Laurina Rising

  Read a preview:

  Laurina turned and saw a small dot in the fading sky that grew larger as the sound grew louder. The party quickened its pace as a small aircraft quickly gained on their position. It was ten foot in diameter and vaguely bird-shaped in appearance, with a single turret that extended from a rounded head like a beak. The small craft passed overhead and turned about ahead of them, shining a spotlight on the group below. An angry mechanized voice suddenly shattered the air.

  “HALT! YOU ARE TRAVELING INTO A RESTRICTED AREA WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION! RETURN THE WAY YOU CAME OR BE DESTROYED!”

  Asamodai looked at Gavrael.

  “They don’t know we are running from them yet,” Asamodai addressed the group. “Everyone remain calm and keep moving.”

  “Remain calm?” Sinza growled. “When that thing is a hairsbreadth from shooting at us? You’ve got to be kidding!”

  After repeating its warning, the light from the craft shut off, and the Glider flew up over them and back the way it came.

  “Move! On the double!” Asamodai ordered.

  The group ran as fast as they could toward the end of the span, the air above them was disturbed anew by an even louder buzz, as the Glider reappeared with two others, hurtling toward them at reckless speed. The three aircraft fired down on the group as they moved, causing sparks to fly up from the impact of bullets striking the steel bridge. A soft blue dome shimmered into view around the group just before the projectiles struck their targets. Hanzoh had erected a Deflect around the group not a moment too soon.

  The company continued its frantic run, when two shafts of bright red light suddenly erup
ted from the stone sentinels at the foot of the bridge, striking the pursuing craft. The ships exploded in a ball of fire as the energy beams struck decisively, and before another breath could be taken, the rays disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared. The group sought to escape as pieces of metal slag fell from the sky toward the span. Gavrael grabbed Laurina and dove to the side, barely saving her from a particularly large portion of falling debris that crashed onto the roadway. He lay over her as the steel bridge shuddered from the impact and until the last of the rubble cleared the air. When the attack was over, the Lieutenant helped her up and pointed at the flaming wreckage around them.

  “That’s why we can’t call for a Flitter,” he said pointedly.

  Coming March 2018

  Rael Wissdorf was born in western Germany and lives near the city of Ulm. He studies Classical Guitar and Jazz Guitar as well as harmony and composition. He worked later as a Substitute Redactor in Chief for a Film magazine and raised up a video game company in Frankfurt/M. but later went into writing. Since 1999 he published two crime novels, several fantasy, and science fiction books, as well as three collections of short stories.

  Nicholas Hede was born in Wyoming, where he currently lives with his family. Since he was a boy he has been a voracious reader and prolific writer, having created dozens of admittedly horrible stories during his youth. He enjoys hunting and camping with his family and appreciates the privacy his home state affords.

  Frank J Williams III was born in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania and was working for the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center while he attended classes in creative writing. His stories recalling neighborhood experiences were cited by an instructor as being reminiscent of August Wilsons works. When not writing, Frank enjoys his life as a Shamanic practitioner. A self-proclaimed Geek, and “granola making hippie,” Frank and his wife Terry also own and manage their own organic foods business.