“Uh-huh. Alright, let’s get started on some actual work.”
Later that evening, Ann sat alone at the restaurant adjacent to the hotel lobby. It seemed every year restaurants became fewer and fewer and the available items on the menus shrank as certain foods became scarce. Tonight’s dinner would be tilapia.
She fretted over the task in Orlando Liam would be taking part in. Although he couldn’t go into too much detail with her, she had a rough idea of what was about to go down: an attack to bring down the WWLO headquarters. It would be happening soon. Tonight? Tomorrow? She wasn’t sure.
She wished for Liam to sit this out, but that would go against his very nature. A warrior to his bone, she could picture him storming their headquarters single handedly like in a movie. Bad guys going down left and right while Liam barely broke a sweat. Reality was a much scarier place and she worried for him. Life isn’t like a movie. This could all be a setup by Percy to lure him inside enemy territory. He could get hurt or killed in an ambush.
It was only a few months ago, before the explosion, that their relationship had recovered from the Night. It was the tenth anniversary of the end to the African Water Wars. Liam never talked to her about Africa. She heard the stories from the media, but had a feeling he had seen and done worse than what the media was allowed to report.
She came home that evening to find him surrounded by bottles. Liquor, beer, some empty. He was barely conscious, mumbling to himself or her, she couldn’t tell, that he was sorry. Over and over he apologized. She tried to comfort him by pulling him into a tight hug, but the kind act triggered something. He pushed her off and tossed her across the room.
She screamed at him to stop, but he grabbed the nearest bottle and threw it at her. If he wasn’t so drunk it would’ve hit her in the head instead of crashing two feet away on the wall.
He unleashed a furious yell and tried to walk to her, but stumbled and fell. Shaking, she crawled to his unmoving body. He had passed out. She gathered her things and left to stay at a friend’s house.
The next day he called repeatedly. Annoyed, she finally answered to hear him out.
“What happened last night? I woke up and there was shattered glass everywhere and blood on the floor. Ann, what did I do?”
She filled him while sobbing.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. I am so sorry. So sorry.”
It took a week before she allowed herself to see him again. Slowly, very slowly, they rebuilt their relationship. Liam attended meetings and vowed never to take another sip. So far, he was a man of his word. Still, the Night hung over their relationship, always leering, making a home in the back of their minds.
The television in the corner lit up red with a Breaking News graphic. Secretary of Defense Blake was announcing the lottery. She looked around. Everyone grew excited at the prospect of finally knowing whether or not they would be among the chosen. They’d been anticipating this day for so long. Her seat had been reserved for years and she’d forgotten what it was like when she didn’t know if she would be saved. She scanned the room sympathetically. Faces lit up, people called friends and family to share the news. Imagine having all of your hope in the world wrapped in such a miniscule game of chance.
Her father only had one entry in the lottery. She had a feeling he’d decline even if he did win. He would want his spot to go to someone younger with more to offer. She expected some of the older winners to do the same. What a brave thing to do to give up your survival for someone else.
The bartender began passing out free shots to celebrate the coming lottery. People laughed as they threw the shots back. They were so happy to finally have their chance. None knew that a lone woman sitting at a table nearby already had a ticket booked and would be leaving in less than forty hours. None could discern the survivor’s guilt masking the woman’s face. They were too busy focused on their own hopes and dreams.
The waitress came by offering her a free shot. She politely declined, forcing a smile. The atmosphere was quickly turning into a small party. Instead she asked for her food to be sent to her room.
Alone in the elevator, the tears overwhelmed her. She would never see her father again. She may never see Liam again if things went wrong. Her entire life on Earth would soon be over. By the time she made it back to her room, she collapsed to her knees—heartbroken for the world soon to be left behind.
Chapter 7
RED LIGHT ACCOMPANIED by a deafening siren flooded the cabin illuminating every visible inch in the hellish glow. The drop door slowly groaned opened on the side of the Z48. The wind nearly knocked Liam over and he had to hold on to the overhead bar to steady himself. It had been years since he dropped into a battle.
He was looking forward to it.
Half a dozen Special Forces led by Commander Mateo Rodriguez surrounded him. President Foster directly assigned this team to the mission. The best of the best, so he was told. Each of them wielded the latest military technology: PL-6 rifles. The state of the art weapons shot a beam of plasma so hot it could burn a hole three inches in diameter right through someone, even if they were wearing armor.
The siren meant they were sixty seconds away from the jump point. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. It was the middle of the night and they were flying at an elevation of fifteen thousand feet coming in from the south. Outside the drop door lay a sea of blackness.
The craft flew incredibly smooth. The Z48s could encounter any kind of air turbulence and barely shake. The team started making their way to the open doorway ready to jump. He fell in line at the back, not wanting to interfere with Rodriguez’s team.
Designed as a shuttle craft to transport people to and from the surface of Proxima, the Z48s were also equipped with the best anti-detection system in the world. This was done as a precaution barring the small chance that intelligent life may be waiting for them on the new planet’s surface. But for this evening that stealth technology concealed their approach over the Florida skies. Dropping in on the enemy provided an element of surprise versus rolling right up to their front door.
Initially, Foster told him to stay home and let his people deal with it. Fuck that. He was never the kind of man to let others fight his battles. The WWLO blew up his building with him inside. Yes there were higher stakes than himself, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t take it personally.
Hyping himself up, he bounced on his heels to get the blood flowing. Thirty seconds remained.
Ann would be asleep by now in Dallas. He wished he could go home to her tonight once this mess was over, but his greater desire to keep her safe won out and he made the decision to not bring her back to Orlando. He also wanted her off-planet by the time the lottery took place. Lastly, he didn’t want to put her at risk from any WWLO stragglers who may attack the launch sites.
With a deep breath, he forced her out of his mind. Time to focus. He pulled his goggles over his eyes and turned on the night vision. The military-grade goggles could be toggled to night vision or infrared with the push of a button.
He conducted a last second inventory check. His PL-6 rifle strapped to his side, a standard pistol on his waist, a knife inside the sheath on his lower right leg, and of course the parachute on his back.
Ten seconds. He breathed steady, concentration laser focused, his hands clenched in tight fists. Blood pumped through his muscles, he stared intently at the dark ready to be swallowed by it.
“Here we go. See you assholes at the bottom,” Rodriguez said. The commander leaped out the drop door without hesitation. One then another, he watched Rodriguez’s men and women file suit behind him disappearing into the night. Then it was his turn. He stood at the precipice, the last one in the craft.
War waited on him below. Nothing like the wars he fought overseas—no forces numbering in the thousands, but a war nonetheless. These people thought they could kill and destroy to get what they wanted. That murder of innocents would gain them sympathy from the masses.
No.
He
jumped out, the Z48 shrunk behind him as he fell. Augmented reality switched on over his night vision labeling where his compatriots in the sky were located as well as lighting up their target.
Air rushed past him as he freefell to the surface. Twelve thousand feet. Eleven. Ten. The ground swelled below him, the building which was his target grew larger. His trajectory lined up perfect. Eight thousand feet. Seven. Six.
Rodriguez pulled his chute first, quickly followed by the rest. He felt the familiar tug as his own chute caught the air. He adjusted his approach accordingly as the team landed on the rooftop.
The building was two stories tall and the roof about two hundred feet long. Each member of the team pushed the retract button on the top of their chute packs. Their parachutes wound back into their packs with silent effort. They took the packs off and left them behind. On the far side of the roof awaited an access hatch. Everyone had their rifles out sweeping the area. They saw nothing and heard nobody.
They surrounded the hatch and everyone turned to Liam. The moment of truth for his friend-turned-enemy-turned potential ally. Percy’s job was to make his way to the hatch at some point during the evening and leave it slightly propped open. He knelt down and looked it over. Sure enough a small piece of cardboard was wedged in there keeping the hatch ajar. He reached for the lever on the hatch and lifted. The door swung open. He caught the cardboard before it fell and placed it outside the hatch.
Switching his goggles to infrared, he was first to descend down the ladder into the eastern stairwell. The entrance to the second floor only feet away. The Special Forces team followed behind him. Rodriguez covered their rear, coming down last, and made his way through his team to be the first through the door to the second floor.
According to Percy, the second floor consisted of old offices turned into living quarters. It was 3:47 a.m. and they expected little-to-no resistance in those. On the far end of the floor was the recreational area featuring a kitchen, a few couches, a dining table, and a television. Percy warned they could potentially expect a handful of people in there playing video games or watching a movie even at this late of an hour.
A long hallway spanning from one end of the building to the other awaited them on the other side of the doorway. Two out of every three overhead lights were off casting the hallway in a dim light. Office doors were spread along the way, some open and some closed. Everyone flicked their goggles to auto. If they found themselves in a dark room the night vision would automatically become enabled.
The Special Forces spread out two per room. Liam peeked in the first one and saw two of the team members (it was impossible to know who was who because everyone was dressed in the same black outfits with balaclavas covering their faces while wearing their respective goggles). Someone aimed their gun at a sleeping WWLO terrorist while another put a cloth over their mouth. The terrorist woke up, struggled momentarily, and passed back out. The team member with the cloth put it back in their pocket and pulled out an extra-large zip tie. They tied the terrorist's hands together and then to the bed frame. He was impressed by their efficiency.
In nearly every room they subdued sleeping targets. As they worked their way down the hallway, the volume of the television in the rec room grew louder. Liam kept his eye trained on where he believed the sound to be coming from. His PL-6 pointed at the open doorway that he figured to be the entrance to the rec room. Sure enough he began to recognize the unmistakable glow of light from a television set.
Before the mission began he was implicitly told to stay in the rear behind the Special Forces. But they were all busy in the bedrooms and despite not seeing any action in the last few years, he felt himself fully capable. He crept down the hallway.
“Donovan!”
He heard the call from Rodriguez in his ear piece, but ignored it with the wave of his hand.
“Get back here! That’s an order.”
He kept walking—expecting to feel Rodriguez’s or someone else’s hand grab him to pull him back in line. But no hand came.
A dozen yards away, he heard a plasma rifle go off behind him. Someone caught a terrorist awake. He turned his head to look back in an attempt to detect its origin. Judging from the commotion, it came from the room three doors behind him on the right side of the hallway. There were no other shots fired so he assumed the team had it handled.
A man stood outside the rec room doorway staring at him when he turned back around. Before he could drop him the man dashed back inside the rec room slamming shut the door behind him.
“I’ve been spotted!” he said into his radio.
He reached for the door knob to the rec room, but as soon as he did shots fired from the other side. Bullet holes appeared in rapid succession through the door as he bent low and took a few steps backward. He aimed his plasma rifle at the door knob and fired. One could hold the trigger down for up to six seconds on the PL-6’s for a steady beam of superheated plasma. It only took two to melt the knob enough for the door to swing open.
By now four members of the Special Forces team had caught up. One stepped in front of him and used the butt of their rifle to push open the door the rest of the way. More shots let loose from inside the rec room.
The team members ducked low. When the shots ceased, one of the team rolled a flash grenade into the room followed seconds later by a deafening bang and a bright light. Immediately after, someone threw a smoke grenade into the room. As smoke filled the area the four Special Forces entered the room, sweeping their rifles in an arc. Liam switched to infrared and followed behind.
The heat from the plasma rifles lit up his goggles and he watched bodies drop. A bullet whizzed past his right ear. He turned and saw a body in the far corner holding a gun. He aimed his rifle up and fired. A woman screamed as she fell.
A memory came to life in his mind of a woman carrying a small child in the African town of Doro Gowon.
He shook his head. Back to the present. Focus. They cleared the room. No prisoners.
Back in the hallway the two remaining Special Forces kept their sights set on the stairwell doors on either side. They were surprised the commotion didn’t draw up the people from below. Liam hoped they hadn’t made a run for it. He went back into the rec room and looked out the front facing window. Nobody down there.
They filed into the stairwell on the west side of the building. No noise could be heard from the first floor. Liam expected to hear shouting as they planned either their escape or their last stand. The silence was worrisome.
“Remember, this is where the real work is done. It is absolutely vital that we do not destroy any of the computers. We need that information,” Rodriguez said.
A chorus of copy came in reply.
Liam made his way to the front and opened the door for them. Just like before, they broke off into teams of two. He hung back in the rear. Computer servers filled the first room they came to. Thousands of tiny green, red, and blue lights flickered off and on. There were four rows that stretched back at least fifteen feet, each row touched the ceiling. The team did a quick survey and moved on.
He followed.
Ahead they came to another room. This one occupied with five people—three women, two men—working in front of large computer monitors. Liam recognized the images they were poring over. It was the schematics for The Hawking. They were all at their own workstations and wearing headphones. This explained why nobody ran away from the gunshots upstairs.
One of the terrorists glanced away from her screen and saw two Special Forces with rifles trained on her face—not to mention Liam guarding the doorway. The Special Forces team motioned her down to the ground. She obeyed. It took only a few seconds for the others to notice their intimidating presence as well. In no time they were securely tied up and the team moved on to the next area.
Liam wanted a better look at their monitors. He walked to the biggest in the room. Whoever was working here had been studying the diagrams of the ship’s bridge. An explosion to the bridge would have set
them back far enough to where they would’ve had no choice but to abandon the ship entirely.
The unmistakable feeling of a gun barrel poked into his back.
“Turn around,” a voice said. “Slow.”
He raised his hands. His PL-6 hung over his shoulder by the strap. As he turned the man yanked it off. Liam wasted no time. As the man glanced to examine the state-of-the-art rifle, he grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the gun and pushed it upward while simultaneously falling to one knee. In one quick motion he grabbed his knife on the side of his calf and slashed it up, cutting the man from his left thigh up to his abdomen. A shot fired from his gun shattering the computer monitor behind him.
The man doubled over as Liam rose, stepped to the side, and stabbed the knife right into the back of his skull. He stepped back as the man crumpled at his feet.
The terrorist had been no older than twenty. There were so few young people in the world. It was always a shame when one left it early. He shook his head as he took back his PL-6. He yanked the knife out of the man’s skull and wiped it clean on the back of the man’s shirt before returning it to its sheath.
As he made his way back to the team, he came across dozens of terrorists either tied up and subdued or lying dead on the floor. By the time he caught up, the action was over.
Chapter 8
“WHAT HAVE YOU found?” Liam asked the top FBI computer forensics agent on the scene.
“We know who they sent the data to and where. We also know no distress messages were sent on any cell recovered on the scene or via any computer. They had no time to warn anyone that wasn’t here.”
He nodded and let the agent return to her work. He saw Percy across the room assisting several other agents. They were in the back of the computer lab where he killed a terrorist an hour ago. Scores of federal agents were hard at work going through the WWLO records. As anticipated, they successfully ascertained the exact locations the schematic and launch information was sent to, along with the people who received them.
Proxima Page 7
