by Josh Collins
Rhett turned slowly toward him once more. “I’m not an Intelligence type. I’m going on this mission alongside you, Colonel.”
Burns blushed a little as Index gained a slight smirk. “My apologies,” he stammered. “Carry on.” Rhett nodded politely at Burns as Index walked forward a little.
“I think that will work great, Marc,” she told him. “Now, if you boys will excuse me, I must speak to Mr. Brosi,” she informed them as she began to walk for the hanger stairway.
Rhett acknowledged, then stepped forward and placed a hand on Burns’ shoulder. “I’m sorry to have kept you in the dark about my assignment,” he said. “She’s cleared me to divulge more information now. Meet me at the range and we’ll discuss,” he offered. Burns gave a nod as the man headed toward the staircase as well. Burns then looked around the busy tarmac of the hanger. He was beginning to see what Control meant when he said the mission was a responsibility. When Intelligence got to work, they didn’t mess around.
THE SHADOWS
The mess hall of the Syncopate facility felt small—cramped even—however, in light of the new information, Burns couldn’t help but feel like it was a stadium, and he was an ant. This intelligence operation was beginning to slowly overwhelm him. All of the planning, all of the people involved, and they wanted him to take the leadership role?
He hadn’t been a soldier in years, and even when he was, he was rarely in command. He wondered what prevented Rhett from being assigned the role. The man seemed apt for the task, but there had to be something that disqualified him. Burns just didn’t know what it was.
Finishing a rather unremarkable meal, Burns left the mess hall. Heading for the shooting range, he figured he would take Rhett up on his offer.
Strangely enough, unlike the mess hall, the range wasn’t that hard to find. It seemed the facility prioritized any rooms that were used for testing or development and tucked away the rooms that were purely for the comfort of the crew. A shining example of Dominion hospitality.
Entering the range through a door that hissed as it opened, Burns noticed the room was similar to the rest of the facility. It too was white, industrial panels, only it had the makings of a typical shooting range, including the smell of discharged shells.
Despite being utterly devoid of other people, Rhett had chosen one of the middle booths and was firing a pistol downrange. Burns grabbed some earplugs off a nearby desk and lightly approached the man.
As he finished off the last shot, Rhett lowered the pistol and inspected his aim. Through the light air of smoke, Burns could see that the man had done an impressive job. A few had even managed to hit the bull’s-eye. Burns nodded approvingly to Rhett as the man removed his earplugs.
“Colonel, glad you could join me,” he greeted with a slight smile. “When was the last time you fired an RR-17?” he asked as he grabbed a second pistol off a nearby rack and slid a clip into the bottom.
“Li-Hyung IV,” Burns answered. “It was dark, I was knee-deep in a swamp, and my target was a defecting Dominion councilman.” He decided to leave out the part where the councilman turned out to be an undercover ally.
Rhett turned and handed him the loaded pistol. “Special Forces work then?” he concluded. “Strange, I can’t seem to recall seeing that listed in your file,” he pointed out.
Burns looked over at him. “That’s because it wasn’t supposed to be,” he answered. “I was a ghost then, on paper and in reality...that’s why they chose me,” he explained with a bead of dread in his voice.
“So, you were black ops?” Rhett speculated.
Burns cocked the pistol. “Something like that,” he said, aiming forward at a fresh target and firing off a quick volley of shots. Lowering the pistol, he looked forward at the target. It had a few new holes in it, but none of them came close to a bull’s-eye. Most sat on the outer edge of the target.
“Damn,” Burns said out loud. He looked over at Rhett, who seemed to be observing his work and making mental notes about it. He motioned for another clip. The man acknowledged and reached over into his booth and grabbed a fresh one.
Handing it to Burns, Rhett spoke once more. “I happened to spend some time with a black ops unit back when I was with the Department,” he mentioned. “I thought I was living on the ragged edge, but they literally were.”
Burns clicked the clip into place and looked over at the man. “Special Forces,” he confirmed, knowing that the Department stood for Dominion Special Response Department. “I was beginning to think this was a civilian only party. I guess they aren’t afraid to invite some army to the meat grinder after all,” Burns grumbled as he began firing another bout of shots. This time he slowed down and focused on placement. He’d done better but not nearly as well as Rhett.
“You still lack faith?” Rhett asked as the firing stopped.
Burns looked over at him. “I was told a terrorist element had taken to Silverset,” he said.
“Yes,” Rhett answered, grabbing another fresh clip and handing it to Burns, “the miscreants have enveloped the entire world.”
“Exactly,” Burns maintained sternly, sliding the fresh clip into the bottom of the pistol. “So, what the hell are the three of us going to do about it?” he asked.
Rhett crossed his arms. “Valor is superior to number,” he said.
Burns shrugged. “Still, a little padding wouldn’t hurt,” he suggested, aiming forward again.
“We have another member on their way...as for padding, well, that comes later,” Rhett let on, still with his arms crossed.
Burns looked over at him and lowered the pistol. “You know, I thought I was supposed to be getting some answers here,” he grumbled.
“Yeah,” Rhett acknowledged.
“So, why all the rhymes and riddles?” Burns asked. Rhett didn’t answer this time—instead he looked over his shoulder downrange as if he was hiding something. Burns looked down at the pistol in his hands and then squinted his eyes.
“You were testing my aim,” he blurted out.
Rhett’s face loosened as he looked over at Burns again. “It was for your own safety. The nature of the operation doesn’t allow time for a full psychological workup or physical capability test, but she thought—” Burns aimed downrange and fired off one shot. It busted through the target, hitting the bull’s-eye almost dead on. He lowered the pistol and looked back over to Rhett. The man seemed speechless.
“Two can play the deception game,” Burns told him. Rhett looked to be slightly peeved, and he seemed to suck on his teeth for a moment before he responded.
“For your information, I was uncomfortable with the ruse,” he informed him, but it didn’t change the fact that they were still lying to Burns. If they needed a marksmanship test, he would have gladly done as they asked.
“Now can I get some answers?” he asked, placing the pistol stringently onto the booth. Rhett looked down a little as he listened to something. Burns then realized he’d had an earpiece the entire time.
Rhett then looked up. “We’ve indeed been given clearance. Follow me,” he said as he walked toward the door. Burns was pleasantly surprised at the man’s answer—he had expected more stalling. That didn’t change the fact that wherever Rhett was leading him was probably still going to be mired in mystery.
Meeting up with Index and Brosi, the four of them boarded a lift marked “restricted access” and began to descend.
The lift itself was industrially built, with crossbars and wire fencing the only thing separating the occupants from being able to touch the outer walls of the shaft.
The lift seemed to be descending at a great speed, but that didn’t stop Burns from noticing the shaft looked different from the rest of the facility—it was still industrial but it wasn’t white, and there were no bright lights. As they descended, it also seemed as if the place they were heading had no heaters.
“It’s getting chilly,” Brosi blurted out as he rubbed his hands together.
“I assure you, Silverset is far worse,” Index mentioned to him as she strained to turn her head in the cramped space. Even the cold storage facility back at the VA on Altias was better equipped than this place. It was almost just as cold too.
“Speaking of places,” Burns piped up, not bothering to turn his head, “where are we? This facility I mean.”
“That’s on a need-to-know basis,” Index responded. He’d hoped in light of the pledge of honesty that they’d tell him.
“I think we should know,” he continued, still believing he could get something out of her.
“What you should know, you will know,” she put simply. He lightly scoffed and looked at the metal floor of the lift. He knew this tactic was called compartmentalization, but at some point they were going to have to let him and the others know just what was going on. The lift then shook a little as it came to a stop.
“Well, this secret better be worth that drop,” he lightly said as the chain doors of the lift whined and clanked as they opened. They sounded like they needed a good oiling.
“Follow me,” Index ordered as she squeezed her way out of the lift and into the dimly lit corridor outside.
The corridor seemed be the only one—nothing turned off of it, and a thick metal wall blocked the end of it.
Doors littered the walls of this corridor. Much like the derelicts of Fifth Street, these doors seemed to have metal door handles. Indeed, the whole corridor was much like Fifth Street, but with an industrial twist. It was grungy, metallic, and dark.
“Well, wherever we are, this looks like an original part of it,” Brosi suggested. Burns nodded his head in agreement—the man was very right. The above facility seemed to be newer additions but this looked to be how it started out.
From then on, no one really spoke. The total silence made each of their footsteps echo through the entire corridor.
Burns then realized Rhett hadn’t said a single thing from the time they had left the range to now. From the few hours he’d known the man, he didn’t seem like the quiet type. He seemed to want to instruct and lead, a trait common in most Special Forces soldiers. Yet, now he’d fallen to the back of the pack.
“Rhett, you’ve fallen quiet back there. Everything okay?” Burns asked, turning and looking at the man.
“Just...memories,” Rhett answered without eye contact. That wasn’t like him.
“Ah? I know the feeling,” Burns gently concurred.
What sort of horrors are hiding down here that could bring a man like Rhett to silence? he wondered, causing even more chills to arise on his skin.
The party then stopped at one of the doors, and Index began pressing codes into the lock.
“You said you lacked faith, Colonel?” she said as she finished pressing the last number.
“Faith?” he repeated. “With all these lies, how can I believe in anything?” She looked at him with derision as she placed her right thumb on a scanner. It was silent for a second and then beeped as it cleared her. She grabbed the door handle and turned it.
“Well, believe in this,” she exclaimed. The door seemed to make a hissing sound as it opened, like the unlit room was being uncompressed.
Opening the door fully, she motioned for Burns to proceed forward. He looked at her with furled brows at first. He didn’t know why they insisted on making him enter first in this place, especially into an unfamiliar and unlit room. Nevertheless, he proceeded to walk forward.
Industrial lights from the ceiling far above the floor came on with a crash. They seemed to follow him down the hall, each coming on as he stepped out of the other’s range. He could now tell that this room was like the corridor before it—it was longer than it was wide and it too was industrial. Only instead of doors on its walls, it had empty man-sized glass cases. He didn’t know what those were for, but he kept walking forward nonetheless, trying to make out what was at the darkened end of this path.
It didn’t seem like another door awaited him, but instead more glass cases. Only, these weren’t empty—in fact, he could faintly make out two slivers of a dull-red glow in one of them. Despite being aware of possible threats, he continued forward into the shadows of the darkened end.
As it had for the rest of the pathway, the lights from above crashed into existence, and he could now see what was in front him.
Through his stubbled reflection bouncing off the glass of one of the cases, he could see a gray helmet, its red visor cut into an eternal scowl. He tightened his jaw a little; this was Index’s big secret. It wasn’t just a helmet, but a suit of armor—four suits of armor.
Brosi stepped up behind him as he finished his long walk.
“This is—this is incredible!” the man exclaimed. “What is it?” Index and Rhett had been following closely behind as well. Burns turned to look at them, wondering the same thing about the fearsome armor. Rhett was still silent, so Index answered.
“This the traditional synthetic composite of Dominion body armor laced with a special blend.”
“Let me guess, that special blend is a polymer,” Brosi concluded.
Index shook her head. “Yeah...how did you—”
“I took a military science class back at the academy,” he told her. “The polymer creates a light metal that increases in viscosity with stress. This here is the ultimate body armor—it can’t be penetrated.” Index nodded her head as she stood with her hands still clasped in front of her body.
“If a bullet lands on one of the plates it won’t be getting past it.” Brosi looked back over at the pieces of the gray armor that sat imposingly in each case.
“Why isn’t it standard issue?” he asked inquisitively, looking back over at Index. Burns noticed a slight twitch in both her’s and Rhett’s faces. He then noticed the many empty cases lining the walls behind them.
“It doesn’t work? Does it?” he blurted out grimly. Index looked over at him, sharing the same grim look.
“The body armor works great,” she clarified “The...ulterior functions do not.”
Burns tilted his head. “Ulterior functions?”
“It’s rigged with an algorithm that allows it to do many things. The thrusters allow the wearer to fly, lift functions augment the wearer’s strength and speed, and the helmet is loaded with an in-depth display. This is only to name a few, however, most are non-functioning or gone awry.”
Brosi shook his head and maintained his original point. “Regardless, this composite metal could save lives. Even if it was only given to a few soldiers.”
“We can’t risk it,” Index denied.
“Why not?” he asked, seeming to not want to let the issue go without a proper answer. She crossed her arms and gave him the best answer possible.
“It’s too expensive,” she explained, rousing a scoff from the man. He looked to the side and put his hands on his hips.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, “this is LME all over again.” Burns felt for him. To have left everything behind, only to find that you got the same thing in return. That wasn’t fun. Rhett seemed to grumble about his response though.
“It’s not like that, kid,” he said. “No one is hoarding for a greater profit.” Brosi looked over at him decisively, seemingly unafraid of the man’s superior size.
“Then why is this amazing technology hidden fifty feet below deck in a dusty box?” he asked with vigor, that suppressed anger momentarily returning. Rhett tried to respond, but stopped and looked over at Index. She only shrugged. From their silence, Burns realized why the other cases were empty. It wasn’t just that the suits didn’t operate—they had been destroyed while testing.
“Because they’re dead,” Burns blurted out, causing Index to look at him with sharp eyes.
It was Brosi who spoke first. “Who?” he asked.
“Those selected to test the armor. It killed them, didn’t it?” Burns continued. Index scanned the ground, trying to find a comfortable way out of this situation
.
“Not...all of them,” she stammered, looking over at Rhett and confirming why the man had been so quiet.
Burns pushed on the issue further. “Enough, though. Enough to be an expensive lawsuit if it ever got out. So, you’ve locked the armor up along with anyone still sane enough to talk about it.” Burns also looked at Rhett. Index then took a deep sigh.
“Yes,” she finally conceded. “If we released the set—even just the plates—it would still be tied to an algorithm that resulted in loss of life. We can’t afford to lose this facility.” Burns nodded back to her, satisfied to have gotten an answer. He felt bad for Rhett though; he must have been trapped in this place for quite some time. Seeing what the armor did to his colleagues, he must have been very much against this operation.
All wasn’t grim though. Brosi seemed to have gotten his answers; he was certainly used to technology being withheld for legal reasons. All seemed to be told, yet one question was still picking at Burns’ mind.
“What modifications have been made to make the variants we are wearing safer?” he asked.
“A layer of dust?” Index shrugged.
Burns lowered his eyebrows. “You haven’t made any modifications at all?” he asked, starting to feel the regret coming on once more.
“Its only purpose for your mission is as a protectant from enemy fire. Don’t use it past its limits and it won’t kill you,” she said. “This is Rhett’s primary assignment—he’ll help with what buttons to push and which to avoid.” Burns looked away as he shook his head. Naturally, diving onto a planet overrun with terrorists wasn’t already dangerous enough for Intelligence.
“Seems like quite the hassle to gain an edge,” Brosi mentioned.
Index crossed her arms again. “At this point, it’s all we have left. This is our last desperate measure to save the Dominion as we know it,” she told him. Burns still couldn’t help but feel like Brosi was right. This was all a great hassle, especially when the Dominion already had a military trained for situations just like this.
“Why not just send an invasion force?” he asked, feeling a little obvious.
