Original Design

by William Latoria

  Some of the internet rage leaked over and focused on the operation itself. Many people from all over the world began attacking the Candaerican government for agreeing to take part in the resurrection plan of the Omegas. Many called the government weak or stupid for believing such a thing to be possible. Others cited religious arguments and called upon their followers to pray for their gods to stop the operation and banish the Omegas from Earth. Blackshade had to admit, with everything that had happened over the past month, gods coming to Earth would phase him very little at this point. As it was, the day had arrived, and no all-powerful being showed up to evict the Omegas or stop the resurrection. Blackshade couldn’t pretend to be surprised. Due to the added tension and internet threats, Zahera had ordered everyone in the camp to be at “Caution Yellow Alert.” Because of this order, Blackshade was now in his OGTS with his Siglock 2057 holstered on his side. His helmet sat in his TDH, as he didn’t believe he would require it. He wouldn’t be giving orders, nor did he think he would be dodging incoming fire, so he had left it in his TDH. He found them uncomfortable to wear for long periods of time anyway. A small part of him wished he had brought it with him however. Its read out and tactical display would have been nice, should an emergency arise. Luckily, all Intel from the surrounding area showed no discernable threat. The town of Roswell had mostly lost interest in the encampment, and the few minor trespass attempts had just been curious kids that were easily thwarted.

  The bodies of the South Americans hung on their racks in row after stacked row of bags and hooks. Some of them slowly swayed in the wind that was still being generated by the industrial fans and air conditioning units. Some of which had been blowing on them for almost a week now. Miles of rows, packed with the deceased, filled the surrounding land before him. He walked along the outer perimeter, looking for any defect or mistake that he could rush in and correct before the resurrection occurred. He saw none, of course, but it gave him something to do now that he found himself suddenly idle. As he was making his rounds, the communicator in his arm vibrated in a unique way. He knew that sensation well by now and immediately hit the input.

  “Good morning, Zahera!” he said happily, knowing it was her calling him.

  “Good morning, Ambassador.” she replied professionally. He knew that tone, she wasn’t alone, and he was talking to Colonel Vuloom now, not his girlfriend. He changed his own demeanor to match hers.

  “I was performing one more round of checks on the deceased in the landing zone. Do you need my assistance?” he asked, trying to cover up his too familiar greeting.

  “Sending you coordinates now, Ambassador. Join me here on the double.” she ordered him.

  “Copy that. Moving to your location.” he answered her flatly. Either someone very important was with her, or Zahera was more stressed out about the situation than he realized. The coordinates she had sent him were only a mile down the road, near the main entry control point that led in and out of the area. He made sure his Siglock 2057 was secure in its holster before briskly jogging in their direction. When he reached Zahera five minutes later, he was barely breathing hard.

  “Ambassador Blackshade reporting as ordered, Colonel Vuloom.” Blackshade greeted her as he trotted over to her group. Zahera spun towards him with a start. He assumed by the look on her face and the ‘how in the hell’ that scrolled across her forehead that she hadn’t expected him so soon. He watched her eyes focus on the road behind him. He assumed she was looking for a conveyance. He almost smirked when the words, ‘How fast is he now’ scrolled across her forehead. While she was distracted with that, he took the moment to assess the small entourage that was around her. Captain Oldsin and Sergeant Wagner were with her on either side. They seemed to have been discussing something important when he arrived. Sergeant Wagner was in full EGTS, and had her own Siglock SMM pistol on her hip. Sergeant Wagner’s weapon was a newer, more modern model with a heads-up display reticle that was linked to the surveillance drones that circled the camp and had a larger capacity magazine. It was nice, but Blackshade was far too comfortable with his 2057 to even consider using another weapon. Captain Oldsin had her own sidearm on her hip, but wasn’t wearing her OGTS. She was wearing her helmet, though and must have done so to better give updates on the base’s status to Zahera. There were three fully-armed and armored enlisted Air Soldiers about ten feet away from the group of women. All of them had full assault gear on with fully automatic SMM rifles at the ready. With their visors down, he couldn’t tell if they were men, women, or non-binaries, but it didn’t matter. If anyone decided to try and sabotage the resurrection now, these Air Soldiers would stop them dead in their tracks.

  Zahera, herself, was wearing a lighter version of the OGTS. A Commander always had the right to downgrade their armor in the field if they chose to do so. Some did it because the standard OGTS was somewhat bulky and restricted their movement. Others wore lighter versions of the OGTS to show their troops they weren’t afraid of the enemy and to inspire courage amongst those they led. Blackshade knew Zahera was probably wearing her lighter armor, because she never packed the standard OGTS for operations like this. He knew she probably thought since she was on Candaerican soil, she was as safe here as she was in her office on Barksdale. He thought that was a bit reckless of her, but she had always been a bit of a risk taker. Her courage in that regard never failed to impress him.

  Her armor was thinner than the standard design, and the container on her back for the replacement scales held less than half of what the regular armor carried. It was a risky gamble if she was concerned about an attack, but if she was in armor like that then the threat couldn’t have been significant. In fact, with Captain Oldsin in nothing but her helmet, the threat must be almost negligible. Still, the women all had a look of concern on their faces and the words, ‘Where are they’, ‘Late’, ‘They lied to us’, and ‘What is going on’, scrolling across their foreheads.

  “Colonel Vuloom, what is it?” he asked, confused.

  Her eyes focused on him, “Our drones are missing.” she told him, concerned, “Not all of them, but a flight of them have disappeared from this location, and no one seems to know why.”

  Blackshade looked up at the sky and saw she was right. Where he should have been able to see a dozen drones zipping around, waiting for a command or surveying the area, he saw nothing but blue sky and a few wisps of clouds. A cold pit of concern began to form in his stomach.

  “The Techs don’t have an answer?” he asked, worried. The Air Soldiers that monitored, flew, and maintained the drone fleets were known affectionately as ‘Techs’. Their actual job title was, “Drone Maintenance and Control Technicians”, but if nothing else, the military loved their nicknames. ‘Techs’ was a faster and easier way to reference them in situations like this, so he was glad for the moniker.

  “According to the Techs, the drones are all showing that they’re here.” she informed him distractedly, as she continued to search the horizon for the missing drones. “Some of the techs think the Omegas had something to do with their disappearance. They say that no human could hack a government drone, and if they had malfunctioned, they would have returned to their maintenance bays, but the bays are empty and so is the sky. No one knows where they are.” she said, completely at a loss.

  That explained the confused looks on the woman’s faces, as well as why they were here instead of at the Command Center. A good Commander always took an active role in the security and defense of their encampments. He surveyed their surroundings and saw nothing that stuck out to him. They were in the middle of the road that had been well worn by patrol conveyances and foot sentries over the past week. There was a barricade about fifteen feet from his position, with a wall not twenty feet beyond it. A wooded area was about fifty yards beyond the walls, where a failed subdivision had once been. There was no wind, as was the usual case here, so the trees were still in the morning sun. A stack of crates and other garbage were off to his left about fifteen feet away, waiting fo
r sanitation to arrive and relocate it to the recycling centers. The morning was calm, and other than the drones being gone there was nothing out of place. Still, something was definitely bothering him about the situation. Something in the back of his head began to nag at him, but he pushed it away, not wanting to miss something because he was distracted by an errant thought. Whatever that nagging feeling was, it would have to wait until after they figured this mystery out. He walked around the area, hoping for something to catch his attention. He looked over at the ECP that was currently closed and locked down. Something was wrong about it. It wasn’t until he focused on it, and his brain kicked into gear that it hit him.

  “Zahera? Where are the guards that were posted to this ECP?” he asked, the cold pit in his stomach becoming sharp. He was close to the answer and he knew it, but what it was still eluded him. The nagging feeling in the back of his head came back with a vengeance, and he had a powerful urge to run away. It took a substantial amount of his will to force it back down and maintain control of himself.

  Zahera turned to look at him, confused, but it was Sergeant Wagner that answered him, “What do you mean? They should be inside the post.” she said angrily. Blackshade heard the disrespect in her tone, but when he saw, “I am scared” scroll across her forehead he let it go; they were all feeling it.

  They looked at the locked down ECP and saw that it was abandoned. In fact, now that he looked closely, he saw that the gate wasn’t even locked, but had been left ajar, a rock keeping the gate from swinging shut. A dark feeling of foreboding washed over him. Sergeant Wagner’s anger snapped her into action. Her hand slammed into her arm inputs and she immediately began screaming at whomever answered. Blackshade was only half paying attention. There was something about the barricades, the wall, and the trees that was really bothering him. Something he felt he was missing that he should have noticed. He looked at them again, this time walking towards the wall in order to get a better look. As he got closer, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The barricade was still up and electrified, the wall showed no sign of tampering or weakness, and the trees that rose over them were now swaying slightly in the morning sky. As his gaze began to stray toward the sun, he had to look away or risk becoming blinded by it. As he turned away, he kicked up some of the dry dirt from the road. A small puff of dust billowed up and immediately settled back down on his boots. He grunted in frustration, he would have to clean them off later. With how dry it was out here, he should be counting his blessings that there was no wind. If there was, the dust would be everywhere. As it was, the only wind in the area was from the industrial fans that were keeping the deceased cool, and those were located almost five hundred yards behind him. A lightning bolt of realization struck him like razor sharp ice, as he finally figured out what was bothering him about his situation.

  The trees were swaying in a breeze that wasn’t there.

  He looked over to Zahera, the words of warning forming in his throat when he heard the, ‘CRACK’, of what he knew to be an old fashioned projectile weapon. Captain Oldsin took a couple steps back as a red flower bloomed on the center of her shirt; a small black hole appearing over her heart. She looked at him and then to Zahera, “Oh….” was all she said before falling face first into the dirt.

  “AMBUSH! GET DOWN!” Blackshade screamed, as he barreled towards Zahera desperate to protect her. He made it three steps towards her before the wall behind him exploded and the world went black.

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………

  Something was dragging him through the dirt. Someone familiar was yelling at him, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying. His head was ringing badly and felt like it was full of wet cotton. There were loud noises all around him, and he just wanted them to stop. His head was pounding, and all he wanted to do was fall asleep and make it all go away. His left side felt numb and something sticky was on his left arm. Whoever was dragging him must have gotten tired of it because he felt them let go, and he fell on the ground hard. There were more loud noises, and he could hear Zahera screaming angrily at someone.

  His eyes snapped open, “Zahera!” he exclaimed, pushing himself up to his knees.

  “I’m right here, Bill!” she screamed at him. He looked in the direction of her voice and saw her firing over the barricade at a smoking hole where the wall had been just a minute ago. There were three bodies lying in various states of dismemberment around the hole, and he could see muzzle flashes coming from the jagged edges. A burst of SMM fire coming from behind him caused him to swing his head in that direction. Sergeant Wagner and two of the three guards were opening up on the people trying to breech the wall. He saw Captain Oldsin’s lifeless body on the ground as well as the third guard’s mangled corpse. He reached down and felt his 2057 on his hip and was relieved to know he hadn’t lost it. His head cleared, and he crawled to join Zahera at the barricade.

  “SITREP!” he croaked at her through a throat that felt drier than sawdust. A million questions flooded through his addled mind, but calling out for a situation report, was the best he could manage given how beat up he felt. He unholstered his weapon and pushed it in front of him, as he crawled next to her. He felt like he had been hit by a truck, but it was beginning to wear off.

  Zahera looked at him, concern plain on her face, “Are you ok, Bill? How bad are you hurt?” she asked, her words a little too close to panic for his liking. “I’ve called for three med drones, but these bastards keep shooting them down.” she said, fire returning to her voice. She peeked over the barricade and then fired two more rounds at their enemy. Blackshade heard the undeniable scream of pain that could only result from a direct hit.

  “I’m fine, Za… just got a little blown up.” he said, trying to be reassuring. The black look she shot him let him know he had failed miserably. He changed the subject, “Where are our reinforcements?” he asked, looking around. The explosion alone should have caught someone’s attention.

  Zahera shook her head as she fired a few more rounds at the people behind the hole in the wall, “Comms are down. Sons of bitches are jamming us somehow. I don’t know who their tech is, but when I find him I’m going to feed him his own balls!” she said viciously as she reloaded. Pointing with her weapon, she showed him two more black smoky trails in the sky. One to each side of their position. “I think we’re cut off. Whoever these guys are, they want us and knew how to get us here.” she said angrily, “Even if reinforcements come, they’ll have to fight through the enemy to get to us. We’re on our own!” Blackshade watched as the words, ‘Not now… not like this’, scrolled across her forehead, and for just a moment, she looked like she was going to cry. Then the moment was gone, and a feral look took its place. She whipped her pistol back over the barricade and fired frantically at the people trying to kill them.

  Blackshade felt the world slow down around him. He had been in the military for his entire adult life. He had been a bomber pilot, an enforcer of the law, and had even killed people after a fair and just trial. Yet, he had never been in a fire fight, and the entire situation felt surreal to him. Somewhere on the edge of his mind, he knew he must have a concussion, but that didn’t matter. He knew he had to do something, he just had no idea what it was he should do. He watched as one of the guards with Sergeant Wagner threw down their weapon, broke cover, and tried to run away. Sergeant Wagner tried to grab him, but just missed in her attempt. The poor bastard made it about a dozen steps before a hail of gunfire spun him around and planted him on his back. The guard’s armor saved his life, but only for a few moments. Two large caliber SMM rounds came from the tree line and hit the guard in the face. Blackshade watched as the first shot peeled away the armor, and the second peeled away the flesh. The shots fired were perfectly timed, so that the armored scales couldn’t be replaced in time to stop the second shot. The guard’s death shriek was as terrifying to hear as his death was to watch. Blackshade felt his stomach
roll as the smell of charred face meat hit him. He turned his back on the sight and faced the barricade where Zahera was still fighting. She was running low on ammo, and he still hadn’t fired a shot. Everything was so confusing right now; he wasn’t sure if he was even allowed to fire his weapon. What were the rules of engagement? As an Ambassador, was he a legal combatant? Would killing one of these people be considered a war crime? He had no clue what the answers to any of his questions were, and because of that, could not decide on what he should do. His head was so fuzzy that it was hard to think.

  So he stayed knelt on his hands and knees with his weapon laying in from of him. He stared at it, as he contemplated his situation while the battle raged around him. Explosions came from the distance to his right. He knew that meant the troops were trying to get to them, but the resistance they were meeting had to be more than they had been expecting. Who were these people, and how were they so well organized? The whole situation was beginning to annoy him, and when Blackshade got annoyed, he got angry. It was a rare thing that he lost his temper, but when it happened, it was an ugly affair, and he was starting to get pissed.

  Everything in his life was finally coming together, the Omegas had arrived and made him their Ambassador. He was given freedom, respect, influence, and the power to negotiate with the aliens, as well as to bring comfort and relief to his fellow humans. He finally felt like his life had purpose and that everything he had been through in his 41 years had all been worth it. The South Americans were going to be brought back to life, the Omegas were going to fix the coming human extinction, and with him in the forefront of it all, a golden age for humanity was about to be ushered in. To top it all off, he had finally gotten together with Zahera, a woman he had loved for as long as he had known her, even if he had been too stupid to realize it. And now, after everything, these sorry sons of bitches were trying to take it all away. These pathetic, cowardly, subhuman pieces of shit were trying to end it all before it could even begin. It made him so mad, his vision blurred and he began to shake. On the boundary of his rage, he registered Zahera screaming at him, he looked up at her.