by Wesley Chu
He remembered sitting in the safe house, listening as Sonya yelled at whoever was on the other line about not putting him on the assignment, but it was out of her hands. Roen promised himself that all their work would not go to waste. The drive north up into Wisconsin gave him a lot of time to reflect on what lay ahead.
“Do you think the Prophus will reimburse me for gas?”
I am glad you have your head in the game.
“I’ve been in the car for almost two hours now. There’s only so many ways I can imagine getting killed. Now I want to think of happier thoughts.”
Like gas reimbursement? May I remind you that we gave you this car?
“May I remind you, sir, that I would still have my old car if those crazy maniacs weren’t trying to kill me?”
Touché. Make a right turn here. The base of operations is that farm.
Roen pulled in to what seemed like a deserted farm and parked in the gravel driveway. He got out and looked around. There wasn’t a soul in sight. He climbed up the wooden stairs to the main house and knocked on the door. With a shrug, he walked to the end of the porch and looked out at the two silos, the fields of corn, the barn, and the large pole barn at the back.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of crimson light and then a small red dot climbed up his shirt. Roen paused, at first wondering where he got the stain from, and tried to brush it off. Then he realized what it was and tensed.
“If you knock loud enough at the gate,” a voice said from somewhere inside the house.
“You are sure to wake up somebody,” Roen answered.
The red dot disappeared and a man in full riot gear came out, with a rifle swung over his shoulder. “You one of our replacements?” he asked, extending his hand.
Roen shook it and nodded. “Roen Tan.”
The agent came to attention and saluted. “Commander Tan, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Agent Charles, sir. Please, come in.” Taken aback by the sudden display of respect, Roen followed him through the house, out the back door, and toward the warehouse. “I have to tell you, sir,” the agent continued. “We didn’t expect one of you to be on the ground with us.”
Roen could only nod, dumbfounded and unsure how to respond.
“That was unexpected. When did I get promoted?”
All Prophus hosts are raised to commander ranks. It allows our people to assume control of any situation if the need arises.
They walked into the large pole barn which was a hive of activity. Roen counted roughly twenty agents in full armored gear getting ready for the raid. There were half a dozen large trucks with assorted logos like Mick’s Plumbing, Real Haul, and Great Bedding Supplies on the sides. The agent led him to the center of the room where six men were huddling around a table. The agent walked up to an older square-jawed man barking orders to the others and whispered into his ear. The man looked up from the table and came forward, giving Roen a crisp salute.
“Commander Tan, it’s a pleasure. Commander Wuehler.” Roen shook his hand. “Thank you, sir, for helping us out on such short notice. Half our team seemed to have contracted food poisoning over the last few days and we’re a bit short-handed. The men were pretty excited about your arrival when they heard a host was going to be running this shindig with us.”
“I’ll help however I can,” Roen said gruffly.
“I assume you want your own squad?”
Trying his best to hide his uneasiness, Roen shook his head. “No, no, that will be quite all right. I’ll attach to one.”
Wuehler stopped, looking perplexed. “I read through your file, sir,” he said, “and to be honest, there wasn’t much in it. I’m assuming black ops then? CIA? NSA? Not MI6 with that accent.”
Roen’s face turned a slight shade of red. “Um... well, Commander Wuehler,” he stammered. “Not exactly. I don’t have a military background. I kind of fell into being a host by mistake. I actually just finished my training,” he finished lamely. “This is my first combat mission.”
No need to be ashamed. You did not have to volunteer so much information, though.
The disappointment in Wuehler’s face couldn’t be more obvious. “I see. Well, that explains why on the notation, I was instructed under no circumstances to allocate grenades to you.”
“I just learned how to shoot a gun this month,” Roen mumbled.
Again, that complete and total honesty. Really unnecessary.
Wuehler shook his head. “An accidental transition. I understand.” He turned to one of the squads in the back. “Faust, come here!”
A gruff Middle-Eastern agent – with a goatee Roen would kill for – walked up and saluted. “Sir?”
Wuehler gestured at Roen. “This is Commander Tan, Prophus host. He’s joining your team, taking the rear observer position. Get him up to speed on your squad’s objectives, and above all, keep him safe.”
“Yes, sir!” Faust saluted Roen and led him toward the squad he was attaching to. “So you’re not here to evaluate a potential host from the team?” Faust asked.
Roen shook his head. “I’m just a rookie learning the ropes.”
The look of disappointment on Faust’s face was no less soul-crushing than the one on Wuehler’s. “You’re a lucky man, Commander. Some of the guys have been waiting ten years to become a host. They thought with you coming, maybe Wuehler or one of them was finally getting his just due and being evaluated for a Quasing.”
Roen wanted to go hide in a corner somewhere. After quick introductions to the team, Faust ran him through the squad’s objectives for the mission and before he knew it, they were all loaded into their separate trucks, speeding down the highway toward the Genjix warehouse. Roen’s squad of four was tucked in a hidden compartment in one of the trucks marked as a laundry delivery service. His squad’s objective was to clear the eastern section of the warehouse through the loading dock.
It was an hour-long drive to the warehouse, disguised as an automotive repair depot somewhere in the outskirts of Madison, Wisconsin. Roen tried to relax as the truck jostled them around in its bed. Faust was going over the blueprints while two of the other agents were exchanging words, occasionally looking his way. The last agent, an older looking man, was taking a nap.
Roen tried to get some sleep as well, but every little bump on the road startled him. Finally, he gave up and began to recite all the squad signals in his head. At best, if he messed them up, it’d be embarrassing. At worst, someone could die.
The truck rumbled to a stop and Roen could hear voices outside as the driver spoke with someone. Then he heard a gate grind open. The truck continued on for a few more minutes before stopping again. Then the engine turned off.
Roen heard several footsteps near the rear of the truck and the back door opening with a loud clang. The team froze and waited. Roen held his breath and closed his eyes, trying his best to stay still. They were well hidden in the secret compartment, under stacks of folded sheets, and would only be discovered if someone removed several of the bins.
An eternity later, the voices trailed off and then they heard the signal. The driver banged on the side of the van twice, paused, and then three times more. Then it was several minutes of silence. Faust shook the sleeping agent and the older man woke suddenly alert and ready.
That is something we have to work on. Waking you up is like trying to wake a hibernating bear.
“What can I say? I need my beauty rest.”
You must be not getting enough sleep then.
“Touché.”
Faust made a circular motion with his hand and the team leaped into action. Faust turned a latch on the floor and pushed down. The bottom swung outward. Dipping down head first, he scanned the area before dropping to the floor. He signaled for the others to follow, and one by one, they lowered themselves under the truck.
The cool air felt good after hiding in the stuffy truck. Roen took a deep breath and moved near one of the rear tires. The agent to climb out last pushed a small button and retracte
d the secret door.
When the coast was clear, they scrambled from cover and assembled in the shadow of the truck. They were in a large garage with an elevated platform on one end and large gray gates on the other. Faust motioned to one of the agents and pointed at the far corner of the ceiling. That agent took one glance at the small camera rotating back and forth and then scrambled behind a large crate. He pulled out a pistol with a silencer, took quick aim, and destroyed it with one shot.
“Won’t they notice the broken feed?” Roen asked.
Faust nodded. “Intel indicated a rotating feed on only two monitors. They’ll notice it, but it’ll take them a while to figure out which camera the white noise is coming from.” He signaled to another agent, who started working on the keypad. The team held their position and waited.
Then the agent working on the keypad raised a fist in the air. Roen heard footsteps approaching the door from the other side. Faust made a quick motion with his hand and the team melted into the background, hiding behind whatever cover they could find. Moments later, two custodians in white walked out through the double doors, chatting while pushing a cart. Roen watched them from behind several metal drums, training his sights on them as they loaded supplies onto a second cart. He was sure everyone else on the team had their guns trained on these poor unsuspecting souls as well.
Easy there. Do not get trigger-happy.
“That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.”
Several minutes passed by as the two men continued loading their supplies. When finished, they went back to the door and one of them punched in the code on the keypad. The doors unlocked and they passed through. Faust signaled furiously at the closing doors. The nearest agent leaped out of his hiding place and dove forward, managing to stick his hand in just before it closed. Roen helped him up and the rest of the squad filed through.
The warehouse was a large cavernous room with crates stacked on top of each other. Roen could hear talking somewhere north of their position. Faust was whispering into his communicator and signaled for the team to hold their position. Several more minutes passed. Roen’s heart was hammering in his chest and sweat poured down his face. He began to breathe in short gasps. This was the real thing! Then Faust signaled to the team and counted down from five.
On the north end of the warehouse, someone screamed. Then there were several loud bangs as a cloud of smoke filled the room. Roen’s squad split into pairs and proceeded to move forward. Roen was assigned to Faust and watched as he began to move forward. His brain told him to stay close behind Faust, but his legs wouldn’t move.
Roen, move. You have to back him up.
Faust turned and looked back, gesturing for him to follow. Roen wanted nothing more than to run back through the door, back to the loading dock. But then he thought about leaving Faust by himself. He couldn’t abandon his squad-mate like that. Roen willed himself to put one foot in front of the other. Each step was excruciating, but he kept going. When he reached Faust, the man put a hand on his shoulder and whispered. “Stay close, sir. I got your back.”
Listen carefully to my voice. I will guide you. Step, step, step. Stay lower.
Roen nodded and followed Faust, staying a few meters behind him, with Tao literally directing his steps. Between Sonya’s training and Tao’s constant instructions, he managed to continue moving forward as they cleared through the maze of crates. This was like a video game, he reminded himself. I’m just playing a game.
They made a few turns as his squad began to close in from the east side of the docks. Every time they reached an intersection, his heart beat even harder. Was the enemy on the other side? His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped the rifle. Faust gave him a worried look.
“Do you need to head back to the dock?” he leaned over and asked.
It took Roen a lot of effort to shake his head. Of course he wanted to, but the shame of doing so was even greater than his fear of the Genjix. Faust looked him over once more before nodding. He looked around the corner and then gestured for Roen to follow.
Control your breathing. Deep breaths. You can do this!
There was an intense firefight going on at the north end. Roen’s natural urge was to run away, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving closer to the battle. He just about reached the center of the warehouse when Faust stood up, using a crate for cover, and opened fire. Roen slid in next to him and peeked over the top. In the haze, he could see flashes from the muzzles of the rifles, and shadows of figures running back and forth. He couldn’t tell who was friendly and who was the enemy! He just stood there, moving his gun back and forth, unable to pull the trigger.
“This is nothing like a video game! Tao, what do I do?”
Exactly what you are doing now. Only pull the trigger when you are sure of your target.
Faust ducked back behind the crate and pulled Roen with him. “I’m going to move to a forward position. Cover me.”
“Should I follow?” Roen asked.
Faust shook his head. “Just give me suppression fire.” Then he ducked and slipped around the crate.
Roen had the urge to disobey orders and follow. Part of it was because he didn’t want to seem like a coward staying back, but mostly because he didn’t want to be left alone. It took him a few seconds to calm his nerves as he aimed his rifle up at an angle toward the ceiling to make sure no one would get hit, and then he emptied his clip, waving his gun back and forth. When he had emptied his rounds, Roen reached into his belt for another clip. He was shaking so badly though that he fumbled and dropped it.
Now he understood why Sonya drilled him again and again in reloading clips. In a live situation, his hands seemed completely paralyzed and disconnected from his brain. As he bent down to pick it up, he saw a dark figure sneaking up behind Faust. There was no time to warn him. Roen swung his rifle up and fired. Unfortunately, he never got the gun clip in. He heard the empty click-click as he pulled the trigger and realized his mistake. He had to do something! In desperation, Roen hurled his rifle at the Genjix agent. It bounced off his arm harmlessly and fell to the floor. The Genjix agent turned his rifle toward Roen instead. Now unarmed, Roen panicked.
Duck! An image of a soldier diving into a trench just as a grenade exploded flashed into his head.
Roen screamed and dove to the side, right as a spray of bullets punctured the crate he was leaning on moments before. He slid onto the floor and twisted onto his back, trying in vain to pull out his pistol. He saw the Genjix agent adjust his aim and knew he’d be too late. Then the Genjix agent went limp and fell to the floor.
Faust appeared a second later and checked the body. He picked up Roen’s rifle, helped him up, and handed it back to him. “I owe you one, sir,” Faust said, and grinned.
He gestured for Roen to follow and they continued inching closer toward the main fight. Two other Genjix agents appeared along the way, and both times, Faust took them out before Roen could even aim his rifle. Roen realized that without Faust, he’d be a dead man by now many times over, though technically, it’d be true the other way around as well. He gritted his teeth and stayed close.
They engaged two other small groups and pinned down a third before backup flanked them. In every exchange, Roen was fairly confident he didn’t hit a soul. By the time they reached the north end of the warehouse, the sounds of the battle were dying. The other Prophus agents were already securing the rest of the warehouse when they joined the main group.
Wuehler appeared through the haze and walked up to Faust, asking for a status. The mission had gone off without a hitch. There were three casualties on the Prophus side and fifteen on the Genjix side.
“Well done, team,” Wuehler said. “Get the trucks back here and start loading.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Roen muttered. “I just laid suppression fire and shot at the ceiling.”
“Nonsense,” said Faust. “You saved my life back there. You followed orders; you didn’t run away; and you lived. That’s
all anyone can ask of a squad-mate.” Faust stuck out his hand.
He is right. You did well.
Roen shook his hand, feeling anything but brave. He stood next to Faust and Wuehler as they directed the rest of the team to load the crates onto the trucks. “What are we after anyway?” he asked Wuehler.
“Not for me to ask, I just follow orders,” he replied. “These all seem like advanced electronic parts. Seems the Genjix are building something new. There’s a refrigeration unit with several drums of chemicals, some of them toxic by the skull and crossbones. My boys aren’t equipped to touch the stuff. We’re calling in specialists now. Whatever these Genjix are building, our job is to make sure they don’t finish it.”
Roen nodded and looked around. “What about this mess? How do we hide what just happened?”
“Our cleaners are good.” Faust grinned. “We’ve gotten pretty good at keeping a low profile.” He paused. “You really are new at this, aren’t you?”
Roen nodded.
Faust put one hand on his shoulder. “You did a good job, sir. Whoever trained you would be proud.”
I know I am.
And for some reason, that meant more to Roen than anything else in the world.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FREEDOM
The visit from the Council came from Zoras in the guise of a Westerner. I was being commended for my work with the Mongols, he said. The conflict created by Genghis’s war engine was more than they could have hoped for, he said. It was a stab in the heart to hear those words. Then he gave me even worse news. The Council had ordered me to replicate my achievements with these people as I did with the Mongols. Here was the second time I faltered. I did not say no. Back then, a Quasing did not say no to the Council.
Roen barely had time to get back to Chicago and shower before going into work late. He strolled into the office just after 10am, aware but apathetic to the raised eyebrows that followed him to his desk. Thanks to Tao, work was now a breeze, and as long as he finished his projects, why should anyone care when he came in? Besides, he’d just returned from a firefight. After that, being a little late hardly seemed a big deal. What could possibly faze him here?
