by John O'Brien
As for the picture, it was a recent one, and, although she never thought about her features much, she has to admit this was a rather good one. Her dark, almost black, flowing hair frames a narrow face with a strong chin. Her dark eyes stare from under thick, dark eyebrows as if daring anyone to cross her path. Her nose…yes, her nose, that part of her that identifies her as classically Jewish, is the part of her she likes the least. Her darker skin, just that color a shade deeper than a tan, blends nicely with her hair. Some have called her beautiful, but she never has paid attention to things like that. Hers is a world of death, and she has had little time or energy for anything else. She has had flings in her life, but they were merely that to her; flings. Her priorities have always been geared toward her work, and she just never wanted to devote the energy necessary to sustain a relationship.
No, that’s not entirely correct, she thinks.
She had actually fallen in love once, and thought her life would change along with those feelings. Her career in the special operations world was going nicely. It sustained her, but she was willing to give up even that. That was before the capture and arbitrary killing of the one she was willing to give up everything for. That event devastated her and killed any thoughts of all further relationships. She turned back to the dark world in which she circulated. It once again became her only family, and one that she felt secure in. Never again would she allow her feelings to go past the mission and her fellow operators.
The door clicks, accepting her card as valid, and she pulls it open. Entering the control room, she lets the door close behind her and surveys the room. Three large screens are set into the wall on her right with rows of tiered workstations set before them. Each workstation has its own large monitor, but each is wired to present information to the larger ones. At present, only the center screen is on, showing an overhead view of the United States and several satellite tracks. It’s the default view kept on screen and only replaced with other vital information during a planning sessions.
The workstations are only partially filled with operators at this time, primarily because nothing much is happening at the moment. They are in a pure monitoring status. The shift supervisor, the one who called her here, looks over when she enters and hurriedly makes his way to her.
“Nahmer, thank you for coming. We’ve picked up something you might be interested in. You know you said that we should—” he starts.
“Yes, yes. Show me what you have,” Gav interrupts.
The supervisor nods and opens his arm in a ‘if you’ll follow me’ gesture. She follows in his wake, her heels clicking sharply on the hardened floor. She always wears heels when she can. The sound of them on the floor adds to the force she already presents. Even though she is not a tall woman, her presence in a room commands attention. The supervisor guides her to one of the consoles where they stand over a lone operator.
“Pete, pull up the satellite feed from a moment ago,” the supervisor says, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder.
The operator’s fingers fly over the keyboard and his monitor goes dark momentarily. When it comes to life, they are looking down at some region of earth.
“Zoom in a little,” the supervisors instructs.
More fingers bounce across the keyboard and the monitor blurs for an instant before refocusing. There, in the center of the screen, is a C-130 flying across a mountainous landscape. Gav is startled at the sight of a lone Hercules aloft but conceals her surprise behind pursed lips.
“Do we have any idea who it is, where it’s going, and where it originated from?” she asks, her accent betraying her origins only slightly.
“We have no idea who it is, Nahmer, but we did track its source to Joint Base Lewis McChord. Going over some of our footage of the area, it appears to be part of a group from a C-camp. Let me see.” He rummages through several sheets of paper. “There it is, camp designation C-US-4.”
Gav holds her hand out and the supervisor gives her a small booklet. The booklet contains all of the identified gatherings of people and categorizes them. Categories range from A through F; with ‘F’ being just a few families, to a group such as Gav’s, which would be classified as an ‘A’ camp. The classification system includes capabilities with regards to training, numbers, and equipment. So far, they have only found groups classified up to a ‘C’ level, and only four of them within the borders of the continental United States. This group falls within that category.
She turns the pages before coming to the camp information. It’s a location in the Northwest close to JBLM, near the city of Olympia. There are several pictures of the site but they don’t look current to her practiced eyes.
“Any idea of where they’re heading?” she asks, not looking up from scanning the information.
“It’s not a certainty, Nahmer, but from the information we can gather from their flight path, it could be that they are heading to Clovis or Albuquerque,” the supervisor answers.
“And what is there that could be of interest?”
“Albuquerque has Kirtland AFB which was a training base for Air Force special operations and Clovis is near Cannon AFB which is home to an AC-130 wing.”
“I’d put my money on Cannon AFB seeing as they are flying a C-130. They may be trying to pick up an AC-130,” Gav states.
“What would you like us to do?” the supervisor asks.
“Keep an eye on them and let me know what they are up to. Also, task one of the satellites to do a pass-by of camp C-US-4. I want current pictures and keep it monitored.” Gav hands the booklet back.
She turns to leave but stops and looks over her shoulder. “Good find. Keep up the good work,” she says before turning once again and leaving the control room.
The supervisor nods with a satisfied smile on his face, patting the controller on the shoulder.
Later that day, Gav sits with the outgoing and incoming shift supervisors in one of the smaller conference rooms close to the control center. She tries to hold these meetings with them between shifts to ascertain what is going on in the world around them and what needs to be done…if anything. Usually it’s just an update on the various camp activities that they’ve located or to mention another one found or lost.
In the beginning, these meetings had more significance as the scouting of the areas and logging of information began. Lately, they have been short as nothing much different has transpired. Finding a C-130 aloft alters things. It’s the first significant discovery that they’ve found in a while, and it represents a capability they don’t currently possess. That worries her.
“We tracked the C-130 as you requested, and it landed in Albuquerque,” the outgoing shift supervisor continues his debrief.
“Any idea what they are doing there and what their force is comprised of?” Gav asks.
“I don’t have any idea what they may be doing there. They could have landed there due to a large squall line that formed along their flight path. From what we were able to see, which was difficult because of the weather moving in, their numbers were approximately eighteen to twenty, all armed. They managed to meet up with one of the D-level groups we previously identified. It is, um…” the outgoing supervisor says, pausing as he looks through one of the sheets he has spread on the table, “…the group identified as D-US-12. We also re-tasked one of the satellites to do a flyover of camp C-US-4 as you requested. We should have a new set of pictures for you in the morning.”
“Very good. I want that C-130 flight and group under constant surveillance. Call me if you find anything else,” Gav says.
With that, both supervisors nod and leave, one for dinner and rest, and the other to monitor what is left of the world. Gav remains seated at the table. Sipping on her cup of coffee, she mulls over her position and how she arrived at it. More importantly, how everything could have gone so horribly wrong.
All Good Plans
She had a lot of success within the Israeli special operations which led to her being integrated into the Mossad. Ga
v felt her abilities were underutilized within the Sayeret, so she jumped at the chance to move. Once her training was complete, she never looked back as the missions she conducted were more in line with what she wanted and where she felt her skills were put to the best use. Plus, she enjoyed the challenge.
Over time, Gav made a name for herself as someone who could be successful even in the trickiest situations. That eventually led to a very strange meeting with a small group of people that evolved into her current status. She was given several missions which tested her resolve, loyalty, skills, and morals. With regards to morals, she had them and detested bullying, but accomplishing the mission was the more important aspect. She prided herself on her ability to meticulously plan and carry out any assignment given her.
Eventually, she was given the opportunity to become a full-fledged group member. Her death was faked and there were only a very few within the Israeli intelligence community who knew that she was still alive. Those were the ones who introduced her to this new group and were themselves involved. Over time, and after being tested further, she learned of the group’s mission, eventually leading to her current position as the operations director of the command facility. And what a scheme it was.
The overall plan was for the group to emerge from the ashes of civilization to control the resources and, in essence, become the de-facto leaders. They would control the resources and distribution. To do this, they had established thirty-two sites across the world; each one built in secret and close to various resources. Each site would house petroleum specialists, nuclear physicists, and other experts in differing arenas of production, along with the staff and workers necessary to bring infrastructure systems back online and continue output. This was especially important with the nuclear power plants. Those needed to be shut down in a timely manner or they’d have a disaster on their hands. Each site was to deploy its resources after the world died to enact Phase Two of the plan.
Phase One was implementing a vast decrease in the world’s population. It was a bold plan waiting for world events to bring it about. They had the nanotechnology and were just waiting for the right time and event to implement it. The nanotechnology would be spread in a short period of time and distributed worldwide. Phase Two was for personnel to deploy out of the sites and take control of the resources.
Pandemics, or rather the fear of it, were increasingly commonplace events. The group just needed one to come around so they could administer their plan via a vaccine to a populace that would welcome it. Of course, no one would know what else was being administered. The nanobots would infiltrate the body and attach themselves to the cerebral cortex. These could then be activated by satellite, setting off a small charge which would instantly kill the individual. Arrangements were already in place to add these nanobots to two-thirds of the vaccines which would be sent out. In the meantime, they would build their infrastructure and wait.
The Cape Town Flu virus provided the opportunity. Gav and her staff were already ensconced in their underground command facility. Other groups were alerted to move into their facilities. These would house the experts, military personnel, and equipment that would later emerge and begin Phase Two. There was even an entire division of military personnel in Namibia that were to sweep south into South Africa to take control of the infrastructure and precious resources there. Timing was crucial. The vaccine would be administered, and ninety-six hours later, everyone would move into the facilities and prepare. Twenty-four hours after everyone was in place, the nanobots would be triggered, effectively reducing the world’s population by over sixty percent. Their deaths would be blamed on the flu; the group would take control of the resources and rise from the ashes. That’s when everything went to shit.
They could never have anticipated that the vaccine itself would alter the DNA and bring about the ruin of their plans. Since the initiation of the first phase, there had been no communication from any of the other sites. Gav believed that no other personnel made it due to the short span of incubation the vaccine had – the deaths and DNA alterations that created the infected ones happened too quickly. Although none of the personnel took the vaccine, she believes that they succumbed to the madness that followed and never had a chance to make it.
She sent parties to some of the nearest sites only to find them sealed up with no one home. Even the military vehicles in storage were of no use as she didn’t have the proper forces to utilize them. She had her own contingent of vehicles, mostly Humvees and Strykers, but the others were useless without the personnel. She had no pilots or any other specialized personnel. Her facility was intended to function as a support compound. They were, in essence, stuck. The leaders of this fiasco were housed in the command facility, but they were still searching for a way to rise from the ashes.
There would still have been a chance if it weren’t for a single failure. They couldn’t communicate with the satellite controlling the nanobot’s signals. They were receiving information from it, but, from all appearances, the receiver aboard wasn’t functioning. They checked all of their equipment to find it working perfectly. Still, the satellite couldn’t receive a signal. Integral checks of the satellite revealed it was working perfectly except for this one, not so minor, glitch. Gav kept technicians working on it night and day, but so far, they haven’t found a solution.
If she could get control of the satellite, she could hopefully eradicate the infected ones, or at least thin them out a little; and then Gav and her group could come out of their facility to implement a modified version of Phase Two. As it is, there is no way they can implement the plan they had gone to bed with, but perhaps there is still a chance. With an exaggerated sigh, she rises, rinses her mug in a small sink, and departs the room to grab something to eat.
The next afternoon, she meets with the control room shift supervisors once again. The one going off shift slides a folder across to the table. Gav opens it as the supervisor begins the brief.
“Nahmer, we did a flyby of camp C-US-4 as you requested. The camp has established their main encampment around a large sporting goods warehouse just to the north of Olympia, Washington. It sits astride Interstate 5 with access to JBLM and Seattle to the north and Portland, Oregon to the south. As you can see in the pictures,” he says as Gav pulls out one of the high definition photographs, “they have erected a concrete wall around the entire facility…at least it appears to be concrete from our analysis. It measures approximately four miles on the long side by one mile wide. The land between the walls is mostly cleared and construction of outer buildings is apparent, with most either completed or nearing completion.”
The supervisor points out several closer shots with only the camp showing. “You can see here,” he points to some of the buildings to the south, “these appear to be barn-type enclosures and we can only speculate that is what they’re being used for. The others are storage and, from their size, they may be for vehicles. There is a large greenhouse along with shipping containers that we can only guess are used for supply storage.”
“Anything on the occupants themselves?” Gav asks, looking at more photographs and the annotations on each.
“We can’t really tell too much from a single pass over, it appears they are branching out. We took video as long as we were able. It looks like they may be searching for other survivors, but they are definitely gathering supplies. They travel in armed convoys whenever they send parties, those armed escorts being Humvees. They have a ready supply of arms and equipment from Fort Lewis to the north. The work groups we identified also have a guard of armed people. We can’t be sure with the one day observation, but there could be up to one hundred and fifty within the camp. Of those, it appears that approximately thirty of them are carrying arms. We also observed military-style training in progress. I’m not hazarding a guess at this point, that’s above my expertise, but if I were to lay money on it, I would say a good majority of those who are armed are, or were, either currently or prior military. This is only my opinion based
on the footage we captured,” the supervisor briefs.
Gav only listens. She learned long ago that other’s opinions and thoughts were important. She has already reached the same conclusions merely by looking at the photographs. There is a definite military precision to the camp and in the way they conduct business. It’s what she would be doing.
“Very well. Good job. I want a satellite keyed to that camp. Can we do that?” she asks.
“We can, Nahmer. It will cost some fuel burn, but we can put one of the satellites we aren’t currently using to the task. It’s an older Keyhole satellite. The resolution of the pictures and video won’t be as sharp, but we won’t use up the fuel reserves in our newer ones. With your approval of course,” the supervisor answers.
“Do it. And I want that aircraft kept under constant surveillance as well. I want to know what they’re up to. Any news?”
“They took off early this morning and set down at Cannon AFB. They offloaded two Humvees and set out for the town of Clovis. I might add that they left the D-camp in place at Albuquerque. They met with another group we hadn’t identified and returned to the aircraft. They are still there,” he responds.
“Keep an eye on them. I want to know their every move.” Gav rises to leave.
Walking down the hall to her quarters, she ponders this new group. They have all of the intentions of gathering survivors, or at least meeting with them. She wonders whether these meetings are coincidental or if they have been communicating in some fashion. The airwaves have remained clear, so she isn’t sure. A part of her knows this is what her group should be doing, gathering others, but the secretive nature of her employers has made them overly cautious and paranoid.
