by Hoag, S. A.
“I want in,” Green figured. “Taylor already knows. He'd already be jumping in the conversation if he didn't.”
“There are others, other Gen Ens,” Wade said. “I won't tell you how many or who. What I can say is that they're inactive.”
“Meaning what?” Jasso asked.
“They're unaware of their differences,” Wade told them.
“How do you know?” Green continued, too curious not to.
“Officer Allen can sense other Gen Ens.”
“When I meet someone, it's as obvious to me as the color of their hair or the tone of their voice. We've watched a number of them, and they exhibit no indication of it, of the Gen En.” Shan made a short story of it. “That's all I'm going to tell you.”
“Are any of us?” It dawned on Jasso there might be a reason they hadn't mentioned it.
“No,” Wade stepped in, knowing Shan wasn't kidding when she said she wouldn't talk about it any further. “We're the only three in Security.”
“None of this is why we're out here,” Taylor finally spoke up. “You can take it up again when we're safe back at the Station.”
“If they were going to see ghosts out here,” Mac pointed out. “It already would have happened. Now we're just here to find out how serious you are. First, you get to hear how serious we are.”
They all shut up to listen. Wade was notorious for planning out his moves in Security. This was one of those things. They'd been expecting it for months, since Shan had gone on the road and Mac had transferred to Station Two.
“The 'Conda, the Anaconda Security Corp, has been an official entity in The Vista for a couple years now. Council doesn't like it but Security Command has recognized us. Now, with this attack, they've given us access to Station Two,” Wade told them.
“There's a good reason Security and civilian matters are kept separate,” Taylor said. “Council has gotten soft. They don't think the threat of intruders is as severe as it was in the beginning, or even a few years ago. It may not be, but letting Security ease up is a bad idea any way you look at it.”
“Security doesn't publicize everything that happens. What would the point be?” Mac knew there were things Command didn't tell all of Security as well. He wasn't one of the chosen few; Wade was, and Wade confided.
“My point,” Wade told them. “Command has given me the authority to use the 'Conda in a Security capacity. Lambert and Ballentyne have already had this discussion with me.”
“Damn,” Green said.
“Ditto,” Mac agreed. “We all just got targets plastered on us and Council will be looking to shoot us down. If you aren't interested in that sort of attention, now is the time to step away.”
“But Command is covering our backs?” Jasso wanted to confirm.
“Absolutely,” Wade said.
“Council can make us miserable by calling us in front of them every time they get the chance,” Green said, knowing from experience. “They can't actually make me do anything, but unless you're willing to move up to the Siksika Ranchlands, you're out of luck.” The Blackfoot nation had existed there four hundred years before The Vista and continued to govern themselves much the same as they had before the war.
“It's an idea,” Shan laughed.
“Exactly why Green is going to follow you around like a shadow until we get clear of this situation,” Wade informed her.
“Do I have an option?”
“No.”
“Fine.” It wasn't so funny, now, she decided.
Wade knew her well enough to understand 'fine' meant things were exactly the opposite. She wouldn't take it up with him in front of other officers. “If you want reassigned, talk to anyone in Team Three. Right now, we're going in and deciding what's next. Get your schedules, watch your backs. This isn't over.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Overnight, Sept 24
“Want to drive?” Taylor asked.
“Where are we?” Shannon sat up, peering out into the darkness.
“We'll be turning around at the Dillon exit in about five minutes. Gas it, switch off and I'll get in a nap.”
“I wasn't asleep.” Dressed in winter camos over body armor, they could have been twins. At any distance, she was indiscernible from her male counterparts, as long as she kept her face mask on and her opinions to herself.
“It looked that way to me,” he smirked.
“I was talking to Wade.”
That made him think twice about it, raising an eyebrow. “All right, you win that one Shan. What's going on?”
“Nothing in particular. Security is having a pow-wow the other side of Glen at daybreak.”
“Yeah, you can drive to Glen.”
She was quiet again, head against the seat, a faint static buzz in the back of her mind. Neither were attempting contact, but the connection was there. Sometimes it lingered; sometimes it was a whisper they couldn't quite hear. All three of them felt it on occasion. Simply put, Mac hadn't figured out how to respond.
Then she was fully awake, feeling like she'd had cold water thrown on her. Taylor had gone into the depot and she was sitting in the car, alone, in the dark. Scooting to the driver's side she flung the door open. “Kyle, move it!”
He did, sprinting out and throwing himself into the seat as she gunned the engine, sending gravel flying across the empty lot. Taylor snapped on his safety belt, swearing under his breath. “Code call?” he asked, not hearing any radio traffic.
“Not yet,” she said. “Give it a few seconds.”
A cold chill ran up his spine. “Should you be driving?”
“Yes I should. Knowing what's happening twenty miles away doesn't affect my driving abilities.”
“What's happening?”
“Code Eight, Glen cutoff,” someone called, out-of-breath, answering Taylor's question.
“Code Eight, we're under fire at Glen,” another officer radioed in, shouting. “There's at least a dozen Nomads, north and south of my position.”
“Shit,” Taylor exhaled.
“No response; we're still in Blackout no matter what we hear,” she told him.
“I know. Drive faster,” he urged. Four more code calls happened in quick succession, all of them Code Thirteen, officer down. None of them were Team Three. “What in the hell is going on out here?”
She shook her head. “I don't know. I felt it because Wade felt it.”
“Felt what?”
“Intruders. I don't know if he's on the scene or not. What ever happened was fast.” Shan concentrated on driving. In an hour, they'd have daylight. For now, the dark was their enemy and her team was out there, somewhere. She drove faster.
Within minutes, they could see carnage. A security vehicle was abandoned and burning, halfway off the pavement. For a moment, the blank readout screen on her dashboard lit up, then went to black.
“Did you get that?” Taylor asked.
“Yes,” she acknowledged. “Get the Uzis, get ready. There are eight or nine cars just over this next rise and some of them aren't ours.”
“Fucking wonderful. Cars.”
“Motorized vehicles of some sort,” she confirmed. “Security shows up blue. Other colors mean not us. This isn't the first time we've ran across other cars, relax.”
He retrieved sub-machine guns from behind their seats. “There,” he nodded, turning back around, seeing more cars and more fires. Being Wade's right hand, he also recognized that look, the determination, on her face. It was like tunnel vision with all three of them, narrowing their concentration to the task at hand.
“That's Wade,” she said, not indicating which of the cars, not physically. Mentally she was tagging them. “Car Four is Jasso, I think; Noel and Saenz are supposed to be out here somewhere. Mac and Lambert, too. I don't know the Station Two shift.”
Muzzle flash erupted across the roadway. “ATVs,” Taylor decided. “Maybe motorcycles or four-wheel drives. They're all over the place.”
“The Nomads are scattering. That's not w
hat we want.”
“Pick a target, take it down,” Taylor recited a mantra from training.
“Exactly,” Shan acknowledged with a slight nod, falling in behind several cars moving north on the interstate. North wasn't the direction they wanted any intruders to run; it was Security's job to make sure they didn't get far. There was more gunfire and some of the front-running Security vehicles were hit. One spun out, leaving the blacktop, plowing up an enormous amount of dirt, but missing the stand of trees.
For a moment, Shan thought it was going to roll on the steep slope. Then it did, going over once and then half again before it came to rest on its roof, mostly obscured by the billowing cloud of dust.
“Allen, get Green,” Wade barked on the air.
“Hang on,” she warned, locking the brakes up and taking it off road, the dirt shoulder slowing them down quickly. They swerved to a stop, not a full car length away. He didn't have time to swear. She had her safety harness off before the car came to a stop. “Cover us, Taylor.”
He did, swinging the door open, using it as a shield, and wishing he had something bigger than an Uzi. There wasn't time to be digging around in the trunk for weaponry. Shan was out looking for survivors. Or more specifically, one particular officer, kicking out his driver's side window to escape.
“Come on, Lt.,” she urged.
He coughed and then coughed some more, scrambling clear of the wreckage. “Fuck!” Green blurted out. The windshield had shattered, leaving him covered in glass shards.
“Methane or refined?” she asked, worried about his gas tanks.
“Methane,” he told her as she got an arm around him, grabbing a handful of parka and pulling him away from the wreckage.
As they staggering towards her car, a third vehicle caught them in the headlights and both men had weapons trained. “It's Mac,” Shan shouted before he jumped out to help. It was.
“Get in my car, Taylor,” he said, sounding like it was an order. He helped drag Green the last few yards to the car and dumped him in the seat Taylor relinquished. “Harness,” he directed.
“Got it,” Green managed.
“Do not engage them unless you have to,” Mac told her. “Yes, that's an order.”
Shan caught his gaze, knowing him well enough to understand what he wasn't saying.
“Fatalities?” Green asked.
“Yes,” Mac was honest with them. “At least three. Don't engage,” he repeated. “Don't follow them into the city.”
“She won't,” Green assured him.
“You're a medic,” Mac knew for a fact. “How bad?”
“Ribs may be broke, concussion, I need some stitches.”
“There are a couple tanks and some other artillery waiting on the interstate about halfway to Anaconda. If they go that way. They won't leave the cover of the city, not during the day.” Mac wanted a fight but it wasn't happening today. “We didn't let them go without their own causalities. Dispatch will be issuing orders soon. There's another wreck site six or seven miles north. See if they need anyone transported and get him to the hospital. I'll be five minutes behind you.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
An hour later, a misty rain had turned to ice and left a sheet across most of western Montana. It wasn't unusual, it hadn't been even before the war, when the weather was less harsh.
The car fishtailed as Shan pulled around the west side of the hospital, going faster than she should and being escorted by a seasoned Station Two Scout in another vehicle. He was transporting two casualties. She was only concerned with Green at the moment. When he stopped complaining about her driving, twenty miles out, she'd kicked it up a notch or two, not a damned bit worried about the other Scout's opinion of her driving.
Jumping a curb and narrowly missing the concrete wall separating lot from river, she put the car in reverse and parked it as well as was going to happen. Shan dragged Green out of the seat, waving for an attendant. The emergency entrance was already crowded and several people came out in the rain to help.
“We've got him,” one of the men she recognized as Dr. Roberts told her. “What happened?”
“He rolled his car.” Shan couldn't think of a descriptive way of putting it. They were civilians.
“How many times?” Roberts went on, guiding them into the lobby and looking for an open room.
“One and a half. He said he has a concussion and broken ribs.”
Roberts nodded. Shan hadn't realized just how much carnage had happened until she saw the corridor lined with injured officers. “How long has he been unconscious?”
“Fifteen minutes,” she said, stopping outside the double doors that led to the interior of the hospital. There was no reason for her to go in, not with so many in need of attention. It was a fear from her childhood. She'd been there with her mother and in many instances, all Deirdre could do was make them comfortable and wait.
“I'll let you know his condition when I can,” Roberts called out, disappearing behind those doors.
“Are you hurt?” Deirdre asked, emerging from one of the curtained-off rooms. She looked exhausted and it took a real effort not to grab her daughter.
“No,” Shan answered automatically, going defensive when she knew she was going to have to lie to her. “Lt. Green.”
“From the Ranchlands?”
Shan nodded, seeing there was blood all over her parka. “It's not mine.”
“Was he shot?”
“No, no, a car wreck.”
Deirdre wasn't convinced entirely. “We've had half a dozen gunshot wounds in the past hour. Central Dispatch told us to expect that many more before the night is over. Are we under attack?”
“No,” Shan repeated. “I can't tell you anything. Just don't worry.”
Waving her arm around to indicate all the bloody and wounded, Deirdre said “Don't worry, Shannon? You know we have deceased officers back there?”
“I know.” Her voice was hollow, stifling any emotion that might burst out. “I have to go. It's not in The Vista, mom, we wouldn't let it get here.”
Feedback from multiple radios interrupted any further conversations in the ER. The announcement echoed eerily. “Central Dispatch, all Stations, all Security Teams. Alert Four conditions are still in effect. All teams are to remain in assigned safety areas. Teams en route are to return to safety areas immediately.”
“Damnit,” Shan swore. They were all stuck at the hospital until further notice.
“Go to the lab. We need blood donors and you're O-positive.” Deirdre had to get back to work as the Scout following Shan arrived with two more injured. The Vista had a handful of genuine pre-war doctors and a growing number of those trained as well as they could be. Deirdre was the former.
She'd just moved to the hallway, relieved of a pint of blood, when Mac tracked her down. “Interested in a closed meeting with Security Command?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye. Not the wicked kind she liked to tease him in to on the nights they shared off-duty, the kind of wicked that meant he was looking for payback.
“No,” she stated, meaning it. The single time she accompanied Wade, it had left her with the distinct sensation that Command had a great many things they didn't tell civilians and probably most of Security. She didn't like secrets.
“I don't think it's an actual question. It's a request.”
“Wade?”
“No. Not something to discuss here,” he pointed out.
That got her curiosity, and she'd always been more curious than afraid. “City Hall?”
He nodded. “I'll drive.”
She snorted, “You bet you will. I saw the storm moving in.”
“You just gave blood.”
“And?”
“It makes you light-headed. You crash into a tree, your father kills me later for letting you drive and therefore, crash.”
“It's never bothered me before.” She stood, shrugging, picking up her gear. “See?” They headed out, taking a side door.
“Sign a release
form stating that,” Mac challenged. He smiled and she let go of some of the tension that had been building for hours.
“Get in the car.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Security has permission to do whatever they have to do to find out where the Nomads are based and clear them out,” Duncan told the group of officers gathered at Station Two. “We got the order a few days ago, but with the events of last night, we're pushing things ahead. Station One, Capt. Wade, has picked teams to join them at Depot South and start runs tomorrow to determine the number of intruders we're up against. Station Two is covering the inner perimeter; Station Three is running backup for anyone that needs it.”
“How is this different than what we do every day?” Ballentyne asked.
“We aren't inclined to be taking refugees or prisoners from this event. It's clearly organized and aimed at us. By 'we', I mean Command. Team Three will be leaving immediately, followed up by other teams as assigned.”
“Why Team Three?” Lambert whispered to Taylor.
“Why do you think?” he said. “Shannon believes it's a secret, Mac too. Wade won't talk about it, but it doesn't take something special to understand what he's not saying. Command knows.” Taylor wouldn't say 'Gen En' outside the confines of a specific group. Lambert didn't need a translator.
“We need to get this under control before we start counting civilian causalities,” Duncan continued. “None of you are being ordered to Dillon. It's a strictly volunteer assignment.”
“How long does Command plan on keeping these orders in effect?” Ballentyne asked.
“If we have to continue the search patterns on snowmobiles, we will.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sept 25, Dillon
The wind started up from the south and Wade stopped, listening.
Force-of-habit, Shan stopped with him, dropping her left hand to her side and unsnapping the leather safety strap from her Sig. She'd been his bodyguard before he recruited Taylor. “What is it?”
“If I knew for certain, it wouldn't bother me so much.”
She rephrased the question. “Is it something I might have to kill?”
“Is that what you're worried about?” Wade shifted his attention to her, scrutinizing carefully, intensely, in a glance.
