The blast of cold air hit me, though my body barely registered it due to the combat suit I was in. The suit acted to enhance my already otherwise enhanced body. As the ramp on the MC-214 hit its stops, we shuffled forward and leaped off into the darkness. It was a bloody long way to fall before popping my chute, but this way we stayed under any possible surveillance systems...or so we hoped.
The team deployed from the aircraft in a fan, with the cat handlers at the rear and the trigger pullers at the front. Babou and Pixie were joined to Muhler and Jenkins via a specialised harness that kept the two Ocelots from moving around or snapping at their handlers. Brutus was too big for this arrangement, so the Cougar had been trained to make jumps tethered to his handler, SFC Anthony. The big cat was splayed out like the rest of us, with his own small chute designed to drop him at the same rate as his handler.
I could see the LZ through my enhanced night vision, which resolved the world into shades of blue and white, making everything stand out in sharp detail. It gave me a god’s eye view of the island from the height we jumped at, and I took the opportunity to look over the target site as well. For some reason, though, the area wouldn’t resolve into the sharp detail of the rest of the area, and I began to get a headache.
“Can anyone get a good look at the target?” I asked over the sub-vocal net. Normally, I wouldn’t have risked even the microburst transmission, but this mission was seriously spooking me.
A chorus of replies in the negative came back, and SFC Tooley said something about it making him vaguely nauseous. I filed that away; perhaps the Chinese were fielding some new anti-surveillance tech that interfered with ‘plants, but something was definitely messing with the team’s enhancements. I stopped thinking about that as the LZ rushed up toward us.
I bent my knees to absorb the shock of landing. Our chutes were designed with our enhancements in mind, so we fell at a much faster rate than an unenhanced human could tolerate. The carbon and graphene fibers that were bundled into our muscles, and the strands fused to our bones, greatly enhanced both the strength and flexibility of our bodies, meaning we could run faster, jump further, and generally take hits far better than unenhanced humans. That didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt like a son of a bitch when I hit the ground at forty-five miles an hour.
“I have to find a better line of work,” mumbled someone over the team net. It sounded like Muhler; she was rated ‘expert’ in dark humour.
I let it slide, because while technically a violation of comm discipline, it did much to diffuse the tension that had built up from our experience on the drop in. We collected our chutes while the cat handlers freed their charges of their jump harnesses. For their part, the three cats began to aggressively clean themselves for a few minutes while we prepared our gear. Once everyone was ready, we moved out; we had five klicks to cover to the target site.
The cat handlers released Pixie and Babou to range ahead of us. Every sensation, sight, or smell the cats experienced was transmitted via a bio-feedback loop to their handlers, making them the perfect semi-autonomous drones. The handlers, for their part, could direct their cats where they wanted them to go, or what they wanted them to investigate further. The cats were just as enhanced as the humans, being stronger, faster, and more capable than their natural counterparts. Brutus for his part was kept close to our team, where he could augment our combat power. The decision to use cougars and ocelots was partly because they were native to North America and therefore easier to acquire a sustainable population from wild specimens, and partly to preserve both species from extinction. Thousands of the great cats had been raised in vast wild preserves, while only a few hundred were utilized in the program for combat cats. Nature, for her part, was also helping the situation as humanity’s population decreased exponentially.
“Sir, the cats are acting funny,” reported Sergeant Muhler in a worried tone.
“Funny how, Sergeant?”
“Sir, there is noise in the bio-feedback, like a buzzing. I thought it was just me, but Jenkins and Anthony report it as well. The cats are all acting spooked as well. Babou is only out about half his normal distance from me, and is hesitant to get any farther away.”
“Pixie isn’t even that far out,” SSG Jenkins added. “She stopped about half the distance away from Babou and won’t go any farther, other than in his direction. She wants to stick close to us, or to him, and is refusing to investigate anything I tell her to.”
“What about Brutus?” I asked.
SFC Anthony, a tall, powerfully built man, even for a Phoenix-enhanced human, had a funny look on his face. He gestured at the cougar, which was slinking along just ahead of our team. “That cat has faced jaguars, combat drones, and everything in between. He has never been freaky about any of that, but he isn’t himself either. He’s edgy like I have never seen him before.”
“Could there be a great cat spooking them?” I asked.
“Boss, I don’t think so, I…well the cats have all seen other combat enhanced animals before, and we train them for that. No, I think it’s something else,” replied Sgt Muhler, her tone even more subdued than normal.
“Alright, well, we still have a target to hit. You all will just have to do the best you can with the cats. Sergeant Tooley, let’s get on with this.”
“Yes sir.”
* * *
28 Hours Ago
Punta Prima, Menorca
We had made good time covering the distance from our landing zone to the perimeter of the villa, and by good time, I mean it was miserable. As Menorca had been systematically depopulated by the elites of the European Union, the local populace had been displaced, and the island had largely gone back to nature at first.
But then the resort developers had moved in, and they had created an artificial environment of what they thought Menorca should be. That meant vineyards and orchards were spread out everywhere along our potential routes in. While in theory that meant concealment, there were all kinds of automated drones running around maintaining and monitoring them. The automation was to cut down on the number of necessary humans involved, which reduced the chances of the rich coming into contact with anyone who wasn’t a servant of theirs.
For every meter we went forward, we would have to detour three meters in another direction to avoid one of the automated little devices. I wasn’t too worried about the terrorists having hacks in on the devices. Red Banner was rarely if ever that sophisticated, but with the Chinese potentially involved, everything was suspect. They were masters of electronic and cyber warfare. Worse than the drones though, was the terrain. Mostly open, with neat orderly rows of trees or vines laid out, we actually had little cover or concealment along our route march. The orchards weren’t awful, as we could flow through the trees, but the vineyards were more of a problem, as we had to crawl down the rows of vines, staying low and out of sight. We would have tried going around, but unfortunately those were large open areas, and no amount of adaptive camo makes you completely invisible on all the spectrums.
Our cautious approach seemed to work, because the team had finally went to ground on a slight rise overlooking a villa that was backed by one of the orchards.
“Sir, I make out eight individuals—so far—around the villa’s exterior wall. They all appear to be locals; I don’t make out anyone that is enhanced. Jesus, is the Kalashnikov ever going to go out of style with revolutionaries?”
I chuckled at that and responded, “Probably not, Corporal Ferrer.” I was still concerned that neither Pixie nor Babou were doing their usual scouting, but the closer we got to the villa, the more reluctant they were to range out at all, and now both cats were perched by their handlers, tails swishing in agitation.
“Okay team, we are going to hold up here, I want everyone on a 50/50 rest cycle while we observe the villa. Keep an eye out for the Chinese, but if we don’t see any during the day, we may risk sending in a few drones of our own to scout the place further. For now, even numbers sleep, odd numbers on watch. We
will trade off in four hours.”
There were murmurs of assent from my team of fourteen troops.
“Even numbers, sleep now.” With my command, each member of the team assigned an even number fell asleep in mere seconds. This particular enhancement allowed us to be well rested, putting us to sleep on command, and we could wake up on command without the groggy effects normally associated with waking up. The command triggered our combat drug implant to dump a sleep or wake up chemical into our system. There was a penalty for screwing with the body that way though, and when we would return from mission we would all need to sleep for a 36-hour period while the body healed itself from the effects of the combat drugs.
“Odd numbers, energize now.” This command dropped an awareness stimulant into our systems that was developed by the Rip-It Energy company. I personally didn’t like the stim, but I knew it was vital after having been up for the last thirty-six hours. We then settled down to watch the villa.
* * *
25 Hours Ago
Punta Prima, Menorca
“Sir, movement on the road up to the villa.”
“Roger, Corporal, I see it. Looks like three 15-Pac vans.”
Moving sedately up the road were three black Mercedes vans, their windows tinted so as to mask the contents of the vehicles. Against normal eyesight, and even most sensors, that would have been an adequate mask, but Phoenix doesn’t use just any sensors. The first two vans were packed full of people—mostly young people. Something else though, was in the third vehicle, something that was interfering with even my ‘plants.
“Sir, what is this? These aren’t terrorists.” Sergeant Jones, a shooter on the odd team said.
“I don’t know,” I replied hesitantly. “This mission stinks.”
“What do we do, sir?”
“We continue to observe. We will still hit the place tonight, but I am going to want answers when we get back. State hasn’t been truthful with us.”
“Why, sir? I mean, why hit it if the mission isn’t what they told us it was going to be?” asked Sergeant Cochran. She was a long-service member of my team, and I knew she already knew the answer, but Ferrer and Arazi were new and too junior to ask. The gods bless intelligent juniors; by asking the question that the new troops couldn’t, she was allowing me to explain my rationale to them.
“Well Sergeant, whatever is going on down there, those people are clearly in the wrong, and while this might not be the terrorist group we think it is, I am concerned about the number of unaccompanied children that were in those vans. What are they doing here? What is their purpose, and why are a bunch of heavily armed mooks bussing them around?”
“Right sir, so this has potentially turned into a rescue mission?” asked Cochran.
“Yeah, we are going to have to be careful going in there.”
“Roger sir.”
From the villa we could hear sounds of yelling and kids crying. One wail was particularly piercing. Our augmented hearing couldn’t pick out what was being said, but we could hear that there was a lot of commotion and a lot more adults than we could see were down there. The third van backed up to a garage, obscuring whatever was in it as it was offloaded. As the van doors opened on this third vehicle, I was looking directly at it, and I felt as if someone had shoved white hot needles behind my eyes. I grunted in anguish, and I wasn’t the only one.
“What the hell was that?” asked Cochran sharply.
“I...I don’t know,” I replied. It hadn’t just affected us either. The kids down at the villa collectively let out an agonized wail. Worse, the sleeping members of my team and the three cats all stirred as well. Fortunately for us, the guards around the villa couldn’t hear us on the ridge, not with the terrified screams coming from the villa’s courtyard.
“Fuck it, I am calling this in. Even team, wake,” with my command the members of even team woke up instantly, though they all looked disturbed, as if their sleep hadn’t been restful like it should have been.
“Sir, what’s happening?” asked SFC Tooley.
“The mission parameters are blown, and I am going to risk calling it in. Sergeant Cochran, get me a link to higher headquarters.”
Sergeant Cochran reached over to fiddle with her PRC-3TB radio before saying, “You’re up on the net sir.”
“Whiskey Base, this is Phoenix Actual, I need to talk to Storm Actual,” I mic’d.
A few anxious minutes went by before I got a reply. I knew I was breaking protocol, and running a risk of detection by not just potential adversaries, but also allies that were unaware we were operating in their yard.
“Phoenix Actual, this is Storm Actual, you had better have a damn good reason for contacting me.”
Despite her gruff voice, I could hear the worry in Colonel Vandermeer’s voice.
“Storm Actual, I think we have been sold a false bill of goods. We haven’t observed any terrorist cell, nor any Chinese special forces types. What we have seen so far is a very large human trafficking operation, involving approximately thirty or more kids. But there is something else, something is playing merry hell with our sensors and implants.”
“Are you one hundred percent sure there are no Chinese special forces present?”
I sighed, and then keyed my mic, “I cannot say that ma’am.”
“Understood, orders from State are to proceed with the mission.”
I sighed again. “Ma’am, in light of the changes I am requesting on-call air support. Also, let the Navy know we are gonna need more extract if I am bringing a bunch of kids out.”
“That’s a negative on air support, Phoenix. Per higher, that would up the mission profile too much. We will let the Navy know to expect more for extract. Continue the mission.”
“Roger, ma’am,” I reluctantly answered.
The rest of my team looked at me. Even the cats looked at me. They could see I was not happy, but because of the screens, they hadn’t heard my conversation with higher.
“What is it sir?” asked Tooley.
“We are still a go, and no air support. We are going to have to do this the hard way.”
“Roger sir, perhaps you and odd team should get some rest, we can take over watch. I assume you still want to wait for darkness, correct?”
“Yeah, but I am moving the timetable up. We will hit them just after midnight, rather than waiting for 0400. We kill the...terrorists, or whoever they are, and secure the villa until the Navy arrives for extract. I don’t want to risk them having the kids any longer than necessary. Who knows what is really going on in there?”
“Roger sir, continue rotating watch shifts every four hours?”
“No, switch it to every three hours, and make sure your team gets some food in them.”
* * *
16 Hours Ago
Punta Prima, Menorca
Despite getting a broken six hours of deep sleep, I wasn’t feeling rested, and I could tell the rest of the team was just as edgy. When I had been asleep, I had terrible dreams of things slithering in the night. Shapeless, formless horrors grasping for me and my team. But now, thankfully, I was awake, and the Rip-Its did their job of chasing away the fuzziness. I was hitting them hard on this op, and I knew I was going to pay a terrible price for that, but I needed something to chase away the shapeless things.
“Boss?” Sergeant Cochran looked disturbed. “I got a bad feeling about this.”
That phrase had meaning behind it. Sergeant Cochran had been on my teams for a long time. She was an excellent trigger puller and had a keen sense of when things were about to go sideways. More than once that feeling had made us approach a problem a different way, and we had survived because of it.
“Right, well, we still have a mission to accomplish, so let’s get this thing done. Sergeant Tooley, any changes down there?”
“A handful of cars came to the place and dropped one or two occupants. None of them appeared armed, and if I had to guess, I would say they were big players or some other high value target. Bo
ss, these guys aren’t Red Banner.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked, not because I doubted SFC Tooley, but I wanted to hear what his reasoning was.
“Red Banner are typically college-age individuals with revolutionary ideals. Sure, they are content to blow up the occasional police station—or military post—but I have never heard of them dealing with kids in any way. They largely avoid hitting civilians, unless they are somehow connected to the establishment in some meaningful way. Yes, they’re wielding Kalashnikovs, a revolutionary favorite, but other groups use them as well. Most of the people we have observed down there haven’t been college aged, but older. None of them have the right look. If I had to guess, they are private security of some type mixed in with traffickers.”
“Did you see any high-tech stuff while I was out?”
“None sir. These guys are pretty low-tech, most look like thugs.”
“Okay, that settles that it. Arazi I want you to deploy your drones. Muhler, Jenkins, are the cats still acting funny?”
“Babou won’t leave my side at all,” replied Sergeant Muhler.
I looked over at the two ocelots, and sure enough, both were crouched beside their handlers. They leaned up against them and were the most agitated I had ever seen them before. So was Brutus, and this still spooked me.
Why were the cats acting funny?
“Sir, drone one is up,” reported Corporal Arazi.
A flat black disc, two inches thick, and five inches long, hovered above the corporal before moving out toward the villa. The small drone was followed a moment later by an identical device. Corporal Arazi was bent over a small pad and was using it to direct the drones to different areas of the villa. One of the features built into our helmets allowed us to grab a friendly drone feed and direct it to our heads-up device. Sharp HD video filled one portion of my helmet display as drone one moved closer to the garage the van had backed up to several hours earlier. It was dark now, just after local midnight, and the villa, surprisingly, wasn’t lit up. The guards moved around, but it was only a small force of them, and they appeared to be using old fashioned night optics attached to Kevlar helmets. They didn’t look like much with their old-fashioned body armor and their even older rifles. The drone’s audio sensors clearly picked up a conversation between what looked like the guard unit commander and one of his lieutenants.
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