MISSION VERITAS (Black Saber Novels Book 1)

by John Murphy

  The group rested awhile before attempting to cross an eight-foot-wide copper bridge. Their nav tablet indicated that the predetermined trail picked up on the other side.

  Pima tried to walk, but couldn’t without help. The viable path across the bridge was narrow and slippery, wide enough for only one at a time.

  Vasquez volunteered to carry Pima, so they roped them up and tied the other end to Tucker and Killian. Since their rope was only one hundred feet long, and the expanse across the gorge was more than that, they couldn’t anchor the rope to one side.

  The group kept careful watch as Vasquez gingerly carried Pima across the slippery bridge. It was extremely dangerous, and their success was entirely dependent on Vasquez’s footing and balance. If he fell with Pima in his arms, he would likely take Tucker and Killian with them. Their only course of action would be to leap to the opposite side of the bridge as a counterweight. How they’d recover, no one knew. They’d figure that out if, and when, it happened.

  When Vasquez and Pima made it to the far side of the bridge, Tucker and Killian followed them across and joined them on the other side. They made it easily, since they weren’t carrying anyone. The rest of the candidates quickly followed.

  The going was much better on the other side. The group found themselves on a fifty-foot-wide ledge, halfway up the canyon.

  The candidates gathered on an open shelf with no overhang, which made them less susceptible to dropping rock bugs. They scanned the area nervously before settling down.

  “All right, candidates. Take a break,” Kerrington said.

  The group removed their helmets and packs, and sat down wherever they found a suitable spot.

  “Pima, do you need some oxygen?” Kerrington asked.

  She looked up from the ledge where Vasquez had sat her down. Her eyes looked glassy, her lids half-down. “I think I’m okay,” she slurred.

  “Sowell, get her pack and helmet over here. She needs a dose of air,” Kerrington said.

  Sowell propped Pima against her pack and put on her helmet so the oxygen could clear her head.

  While tending to Pima, Sowell turned to Vasquez. “You gonna be okay? You seemed pretty shaken up by this.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry ’bout that, man.”

  “What’s up with Linda? You kept calling Pima ‘Linda.’”

  “Linda is—was—my sister.”

  “You think Pima looks like her? I mean, with the atmosphere and all?”

  “Yeah, kind of. I mean, she was small like Pima. She was only twelve when it happened. She never got bigger.”

  “Twelve when what happened?” Sowell said.

  Vasquez’s chin quivered with emotion. He looked away. “We were hiking in the mountains above Los Angeles, and she fell off a cliff like that.”

  Pima’s eyes were glued to Vasquez, as were Sowell’s.

  “She broke her spine and was…” Vasquez gulped hard. “She was paralyzed and suffered brain damage. She could talk, but she was like a baby.” He sobbed uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around Pima, burying his head between her shoulder armor and helmet.

  Sowell patted his shoulder. Mitchell and Goreman knelt beside him.

  “I’m okay,” Pima said. “I’m okay. I am not paralyzed. I only hurt my ankle.” She was becoming more lucid from the oxygen.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Sowell said. “Is your sister still alive?”

  Vasquez shook his head.

  “Okay, Vasquez. It’s time to pull yourself together,” Kerrington said. “Your sister got hurt; she died. So what? Focus on the now.”

  Vasquez looked up, his face a mix of astonishment and rage. “So what? I was supposed to be her protector, that’s what. I was supposed to protect the entire family, my friends, the whole neighborhood. I was the big guy on the block. It was my job to protect everybody.”

  Vasquez rose as he spoke, his eyes burning with anger.

  Sowell cautiously held out his hands. “I’m sure you feel like you need to protect everybody, but accidents happen.”

  “But what you don’t know—what everybody doesn’t know—is that I pushed her. I was joking around, just playing, and I pushed her!” His eyes went wide while he shouted at Sowell. “I killed her! She lived like a baby for three years before she died. But I killed her!”

  “I’m sure you didn’t mean to,” Sowell said.

  “Control yourself, Vasquez,” Kerrington said. “We have to get through this mission. Get a grip and deal with this later.”

  “But I killed her! I killed my own sister!” Vasquez sobbed.

  “Sowell, Tucker, sit him down over there away from Pima,” Kerrington said.

  “We had to feed her and change her diapers…” Vasquez said, reeling. “It’s all my fault.”

  “Okay, Vasquez,” Sowell said. “Look, it’s probably the atmosphere, but we’re going to have to sort this out later. We don’t have time for it now.”

  “You helped Pima get out of a jam,” Tucker said. “That’s gotta count for something.”

  “That’s right,” Sowell agreed. “Come on, man. Pull yourself together. You don’t want us to fail the mission, do ya?”

  Vasquez shook his head, sniffling and struggling to control his breathing.

  Kerrington approached Pima. “Candidate Pima. Are you able to walk?”

  Pima stood and put weight on her left foot, then winced. “Now that I’ve got the oxygen, the pain is coming back. I can probably walk, just slowly.” She hobbled a bit to demonstrate, then sat back down.

  “Slow is not going to work.” Kerrington’s brow furrowed as he considered their options.

  “Vasquez can’t carry her anymore,” Sowell said. “He wouldn’t make it another mile.”

  Kerrington nodded. “No, he’s a blubbering mess already.”

  “I can carry her pack for a while,” Mitchell volunteered.

  “She can lean on me,” Carmen said. “I can help her walk.”

  “What if we trade off carrying her?” Kerrington suggested.

  “Not a chance,” Tucker said. “It’s bad enough that we gotta carry her shit.”

  “We’ve got to try,” Kerrington said.

  “Thanks for volunteering the rest of us,” Tucker growled. “Somehow I don’t see you carrying anything but your loud mouth and an ass-full of attitude.”

  Kerrington stepped toward him. “That’s because I’m in command here! I’ve got enough on my plate trying to control you idiots!”

  “You were put in charge, not made God,” Tucker said.

  Kerrington pointed his armored finger in Tucker’s face. “Watch it, ginger, or I’ll have you dumped from the program.”

  Tucker batted Kerrington’s arm away. “Don’t call me ginger.”

  “Vasquez calls you ginger and you don’t mind,” Kerrington said.

  “That’s because he’s a friend and he has special authorization from me, you little prick.”

  Sowell pushed between them. “Gentlemen, gentlemen. Let’s cut the bickering and try to resolve the issue at hand. Ian, please help me take care of Vasquez. Stiles, let’s focus on Pima.”

  Tucker turned away from Kerrington and moved toward Vasquez.

  As he did, Spalding cupped his hand to his mouth. “Ginger.”

  Tucker whirled around and shoved Spalding. “Shut up, fuckface!”

  Spalding stumbled backward, but remained upright, still smirking. Tucker took a seat next to Vasquez, swearing under his breath.

  “Gentlemen! Please,” Sowell said. He waited for the moment to pass. “Stiles, I don’t think we can carry Pima anymore, even if only assisting her. That will slow us down way too much and wear us all out.”

  “You’re right. She really fucked things up for us,” Kerrington said.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Pima protested.<
br />
  “It was an accident!” Carmen agreed.

  “Nobody is blaming you, Pima,” Sowell said. “But we do have to sort this out.”

  Killian stepped forward. “Why don’t we leave her behind?”

  “We can’t do that,” Kerrington said. “We have to stick together.”

  “Look, if we were in a real combat scenario and one of our team got wounded, we wouldn’t drag them around. We’d leave them behind and come back when we could.”

  Killian looked at the group. Everyone still seemed skeptical. “I’m not saying we shoot her—just leave her behind. She’ll be safe, and the atmosphere will help with her pain.”

  “It would look really bad if we abandoned one of the team,” Kerrington said, considering it. “We’re going to have to call off the mission and try again.”

  “Oh, hell no!” Tucker exclaimed.

  “Abandon?” Killian asked. “She’ll sleep like a baby while we’re off enduring whatever the hell is ahead of us. This is the safest thing for her—for everyone, in fact.”

  “I don’t think they’ll give us a redo,” Sowell said.

  “I agree,” Mitchell said, nodding. “We’re supposed to treat this like a real combat mission. I don’t think that includes redos.”

  “Wait!” Dohrn said. “Would you abandon Stiles if he was the one who got hurt?”

  “Oh, hell yes!” Tucker said.

  “Yes. And then we’d come back to retrieve him later,” Killian said.

  “Comms!” Kerrington said. “We’re in a better location. We can call the shuttle to retrieve her.”

  “If we call for the shuttle to come back, which they won’t, we’ll have to wait around a long time for them to get her. That’s way too much time.”

  “He’s right,” Mitchell said. “We’re already behind schedule.”

  “As long as she’s ambulatory, we have to try,” Kerrington said.

  Killian moved across the group. As he did, he pulled his knife from the armor on his left calf.

  Time to settle this.

  CHAPTER 16

  KILLIAN CIRCLED BEHIND the group assembled in front of Pima. His movements weren’t aggressive, but it was clear that he was up to something.

  He stepped behind Pima, who craned over her shoulder to see what Killian was doing. In one swift movement he maneuvered his knife underneath her bright orange oxygen tube and yanked. The two halves of the rubbery tube bounced about. Pima couldn’t see over her shoulder and she twisted back and forth in confusion. Something had happened, but she didn’t know what.

  “Holy shit!” Tucker said.

  “Oh my God!” whimpered Goreman, who had been kneeling by Pima’s side.

  Vasquez bolted upright. He pushed Spalding and Benson out of the way to get a closer look.

  He peered at the slashed oxygen tube, then glared at Killian. Killian stared back stoically, as if nothing had happened. Yet he was poised for an attack.

  Vasquez lunged at Killian, nearly stepping on Mitchell and Dohrn. He pushed past Sowell and Kerrington as if they didn’t exist.

  Vasquez came at him like a train. Killian dodged Vasquez, ducked, turned, and spun out of the way. Then, he resumed his stoic stance. Vasquez stumbled forward and fell on slivers of brittle sandstone, his armor taking the brunt of the force.

  Killian held his hands up. “I don’t want to fight you, Vasquez.”

  Vasquez scrambled to his feet and stood like a wrestler, ready for another attack.

  “I don’t want to fight you, Vasquez! I give up.” Killian dropped his knife and stood open, yet ready to spring out of the way should Vasquez lunge again.

  “Stand down! Stand down!” Kerrington yelled.

  Vasquez huffed, not yet convinced that the fight was over.

  “I don’t want to fight you, Vasquez,” Killian said for a third time.

  “Look, Vasquez, nobody’s hurt, so stand down. We don’t want any more fighting,” Sowell said.

  Vasquez didn’t take his eyes off Killian.

  “Everybody stand down!” Kerrington repeated.

  Several tense moments passed before Vasquez relaxed his aggressive pose. He shook his hands and went back to where he’d sat previously to calm down.

  Kerrington turned to Killian. “I don’t know what kind of shit you’re up to, but what the hell did you do that for?”

  “I cut her O-tube to take Pima out of the equation,” Killian said. He carefully picked up his knife and circled wide around the group toward his gear.

  “What gives you the right to take matters into your own hands?”

  “Look, I’m sorry if I acted recklessly. You weren’t making a decision. We don’t have any time for arguing or for dragging along an injured person. I put the matter to rest.”

  “Wrong!” Kerrington said. “You just jeopardized the entire mission.”

  “Actually,” Sowell said, “even though I don’t agree at all with Killian’s tactics, it’s probably best that Pima stay here until the mission is over so she doesn’t risk further injury to herself or one of the other team members.”

  “He’s right,” Mitchell added. “Carrying her less than a thousand yards was already wearing Vasquez out. Think of the risk he took carrying Pima across the gorge.” She looked over her shoulder at Vasquez. “Not that it was a bad thing. Heroic, actually.”

  “We can’t leave her here by herself,” Dohrn said. “What about the rock bugs?”

  “Or some other kind of predator?” Goreman asked.

  “Somebody can stay back with her,” Benson said.

  “I’ll stay!” Vasquez stepped forward. “It’s my fault anyway.”

  “It’s not your fault, Alex,” Sowell said.

  “We need you with us,” said Killian. “If anyone needs to get into Black Saber, it’s you.”

  Vasquez looked surprised. “But I don’t deserve to go through. I let you all down.”

  “Killian’s got a point,” Sowell said. “You’re strong; you’re smart. You’re a good asset. You didn’t let any of us down. In fact, you helped get Pima this far. You got her safely across the bridge. Dragging her farther doesn’t make sense.”

  “Yeah, man,” Tucker said, “you didn’t let us down at all. You saved her.”

  “And kept the mission moving forward,” Mitchell added.

  “Look, Alex,” Sowell said in a calming tone, “I recognize your remorse over your sister. But separate that…accident…from the situation we’re in now. They really have nothing to do with one another. Don’t let the past affect what we’re here for.”

  All eyes were on Vasquez. He looked down, wrestling with his guilt.

  “We need your strength,” Killian said, thinking of the many times he could have used such a powerful ally in Bangkok.

  Vasquez nodded slowly. “All right.”

  They stood silently. Then Kerrington spoke up. “I’m in charge of everyone’s welfare. I’ll stay.”

  They each looked at him with surprise. Killian doubted his sincerity.

  “No,” Carmen said, “I’ll stay.”

  “Carmen,” Pima pleaded, “you should go. I don’t want you to get disqualified because of me!”

  Dohrn looked shocked. “No, Carmen—why?”

  “Because this is all bullshit!” Carmen moved to collect her gear. “I thought Black Saber was going to be about teamwork and serving our country with dignity and honor and—well, honor. You guys aren’t a team! All I see is infighting. You’d probably kill each other if you could.” She looked up at the sky. “You want the truth?” she shouted as if she could see Blue Orchid. “The truth is I want out! I don’t want any part of this petty, dangerous bullshit!”

  “Carmen, no…”

  “Don’t worry, Pima,” Carmen said. “I’d rather stay with you than go along with these assholes. We�
��re only ten hours into this, and I can’t stand them anymore. They don’t know anything about real teamwork.”

  “We did work as a team to get up that boulder in the canyon,” Mitchell said.

  “Only because we had to,” Carmen countered. “There’s no team spirit here.”

  “Well, technically,” Sowell said, “it’s exactly that kind of teamwork that’s essential to succeeding on a real mission.”

  Carmen got into Sowell’s face. “It’s the backbiting bullshit in between that I can’t stand! I…want…out!”

  The other candidates stared at Carmen, stunned by her ferocity.

  “Very well then,” Kerrington said calmly. “It’s your choice. Everybody else, mount up.”

  As the candidates hefted their packs and put on their helmets, Kerrington hung back with his helmet still off.

  “Frankly, Carmen, I’m glad you volunteered. Speaking the truth here, I thought you and Pima were the weak links, anyway. It was only a matter of time before you two fell out and jeopardized the mission.”

  “Truth time?” Carmen said. “You’re the reason I wanted out, you entitled, self-centered little shit.”

  Kerrington’s face hardened. “You sanctimonious bitch. Houlihan was right. You don’t have what it takes to make it in Black Saber. You don’t have the balls.”

  Carmen flinched. “Oh, and you do? You’re nothing but a bully. You don’t know anything about teamwork, and no one has any respect for you. If your father wasn’t vice president, you’d be nothing but a puny little twerp, Mr. Black Belt with your stupid little kung fu show.”

  Kerrington pressed his lips together and pointed an armored finger at her. “Two bitches, one stone.” He turned and followed the others.

  “Asshole!” Carmen called out after him.

  58 Hours to Extraction

  The towering thunderheads that had nearly cost the group their lives loomed to the south, catching the rays of the descending sun. The thunderheads were beautiful, like massive piles of snow bathed in orange light.

  The candidates easily ascended the far side of the canyon as the route took them up steady stretches of shelved strata. Now they walked effortlessly on top of the plateau.