Counterstrike: The Separatist Wars Book 2

by Thomas Webb

Not bad. Not bad at all.

  Must be the adrenaline, he thought.

  The best operators always performed well, but they never got up quite as high in training as they did for the big game. And this game was one of the biggest of them all.

  Zahar approached Ramsey. “We’re about set here,” he said.

  “Good. How’s the remote detonator looking?”

  “See for yourself.”

  Zahar handed him the detonator unit. It utilized a dedicated wave, keyed only to the explosives. Another of Renee’s ideas. Ramsey glanced down at the indicator. All levels showed green, signifying all the units were online and ready to go.

  He held the device in his hand. This would make one hell of a statement against the toothless Outer Colonies Worlds Council. They were selling out the people of the Colonies to the UN. And for what? Wealth? Power? Money? Why was it that the blood of the innocent always seemed to wind up as payment for one of those three things?

  “Good work Zahar,” Ramsey said. “Tell the rest of the team to standby while I make sure everyone else is in place.” Zahar nodded and stepped off. Ramsey keyed his comms. “All operational elements,” he began. “This is Alpha team. All elements check in. Over.”

  There was a second’s pause before the comms crackled to life.

  “This is Bravo team. We’re in place and set. Over.”

  “Charlie team here. We’re good to go. Over.”

  “Delta team. All set here. Ready to move on your go, Alpha. Over.”

  Ramsey glanced at his chrono. It was time. “Alpha to all operational elements. That’s a good copy. Standby for countdown, on my go. In three. Two. One. . .,” he smiled. “Execute.”

  -22-

  Hale swore to himself. The holdup at planetary customs had cost them hours. Hours they didn’t have.

  “We need to move,” Lima said, himself feeling the sense of urgency. They were now in place at a hasty command center, in an abandoned warehouse facility on the outskirts of Shangjai. They’d engaged in an all-hands-on-deck effort setting up equipment and communications. Just as X37 plugged in and got the comms online, the first of the news feeds began flooding in.

  “—reports of multiple explosions in different areas of the city . . .”

  “—under attack? Authorities are warning residents of the capital city of Shangjai to shelter in place. Even now, emergency crews are arriving onsite.”

  “What’s happening?” Hale asked.

  “X37,” Lima said. “Please replay all Shangjai news feeds from the last fifteen minutes.”

  Images of burning buildings flooded the local feeds. One showed what the reporter said had been a small coffee shop, completely leveled. What had earlier in the evening been a customer filled business was now nothing more than a gaping, burning hole. The reporter zoomed out. The wide view of the buildings along the street reminded Hale of a rotting gap in a row of teeth. Emergency crews comprised of androids, humans, and the insect-like beings native to Cetov 9 rushed to the bombing sites, battling fires and working to help the wounded. In the background of every feed, people gathered outside the shimmering yellow police lines, witnessing the devastation up close and firsthand.

  For a moment everyone in the command center stopped, staring at the feeds and listening to the reports filling the wave. No one spoke.

  “What the hell is happening?” Zombie asked.

  Hale looked at Shane, then Lima. “They’re distractions,” he said. Misdirection—the Separatists had used one of the oldest strategies of war, and apparently to great effect. “It’s happening now,” Hale said. “We have to move.”

  Hale and the rest of the small force raced over to the shipping boxes, scrambling to get to their weapons and gear. The prior service recon Marine yanked his modular body armor from the container and shook himself into it. Low key was the order of the day, so a full suit of armor wasn’t practical. When he was locked in, he slipped the sling of his pulse rifle over his head and slid his sidearm into its holster with a clack. He grabbed a helmet and a comm unit and was first to be ready to roll.

  Zombie, the next after Hale to be fully kitted, came jogging up. “We’re set, boss. Just need to grab the vehicles.”

  “Do it,” Hale said. “Take one of the KRG guys—he’ll be the second wheel man. I want to be en route in three mikes.”

  Zombie ran to get the vehicles. Hale walked with a purpose to where Lima was hunched over the communications board. The old man had a pulse pistol strapped to his leg, even though he wasn’t leaving the command center. Hale hoped it wouldn’t come to the point where Lima had to use it.

  “Emergency protocols will be to lock the city down and close ranks,” Hale said, making a final adjustment to his armor. “The conference members will shelter in place inside the Grand Nebula. That’ll play right into the Separatist’s hands.”

  “I will alert the hotel,” Lima said. He tried the comm wave. Instead of a connection, a harsh audible tone sounded through the feed. Lima frowned and tried again. He shook his head. “I am not able to get through.” He turned to the AI. “Would you please try reaching them, X37?”

  “Of course, Mr. Lima. Right away.” The AI drone body reached out to the wave, receiving the same tone Lima had. “I’m afraid I can’t get through either, sir.”

  “They’ve blocked the comm waves,” Shane said, arriving with her rifle in hand. She rammed a pulse magazine home. “They’ve cut communications.”

  “Christ in the stars,” Hale swore. “It’s like they’re working out of The Art of War’s playbook.”

  Lima closed his eyes, thinking. “We cannot alert the authorities or the hotel via the wave . . . but the city’s Traffic Management system is hardcoded into the ground. There should be a junction box somewhere close by. I will have X37 manually hack into the system and clear you a path to the hotel.”

  The AI, having overhead, began high-speed ambulating toward the exit. The drone body moved like some sort of demented spider, covering ground at a furious pace.

  “Maybe keep trying the wave as we go?” Shane asked.

  “Of course,” Lima responded. The smell of scorched rubberite and the squealing of tires reached them from outside the door. Kris, Lash, Anesu, and the Kushite shooters made their way over, accompanied by Shemi looking uncomfortable in his body armor.

  “Sounds like your rides are here,” Lima said, his eyes locked on the holo feeds. “Get to the vehicles,” he commanded. “Your teams will break off as we discussed.”

  “Roger that,” Hale said, already going for the door. The team fell in behind him. “Two this is One—comm check. Over.”

  “Read you boss man,” Zombie said. She was sitting in the space in front of the warehouse, the vehicle running. The second vehicle, another black utility-type truck, sat idling behind her.

  “I’ll take Kris, Anesu, and three KRG shooters,” Hale said. “You take Shane, Lash, the science guy, and the rest of the Kushite team.”

  “Copy,” Zombie said, shifting impatiently behind the wheel.

  “See you there,” Hale said. He jumped into the passenger side of the second vehicle. One of the Royal Guardsman, a young one, sat at the controls. He was the Kushite team’s EOD, or Explosive Ordnance Disposal tech. He thought he recalled the kid’s name was Chege.

  “Ready when you are sir,” Chege said in heavily accented Standard English.

  “You got defensive driver training?” Hale asked.

  “Of course,” the young operator replied. The lead team piled into the vehicle in front of them. A second later the doors shut as the rest of Hale’s team got in.

  “Good,” Hale said. “Try and keep up with Zombie if you can? And don’t call me ‘sir.’ When I was active duty I worked for a living.”

  “Understood si—my apologies. That’s a copy.” Zombie took off like a shot. The soldier’s eyes went wide.

  “Told you,” Hale said. “Now how about we follow her?”

  “Yes sir,” the operator replied. Hale rol
led his eyes as the Kushite soldier floored it. The hydrogen engine roared as they peeled out behind the lead vehicle.

  They passed X37 working the hardline as they hurtled through the warehouse lot’s rusted gates. The AI drone spared one of its six appendages to wave as they passed.

  “TOC this is One,” Hale said. “Comm check. Over.”

  “Loud and clear One,” Lima responded.

  “Gotcha TOC. All hands—check in on my channel. Over.”

  When the last team member had checked in, Hale breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God for the dedicated wave they’d set up beforehand. Otherwise they’d be just as cut off from comms as the rest of the city. By the time comm checks were complete, they’d hit the outskirts of town. True to what Lima promised, Shangjai’s holographic traffic signals acted as if they were charmed. All green signals allowed the two vehicles to tear through the city streets without stopping once.

  For the entire short trip over, Hale didn’t spot a single law enforcement unit. No doubt they were all occupied with the explosions throughout the city. He cursed Ramsey.

  “It was a brilliant tactic,” Kris said from the back. She hadn’t said much of anything since they touched down. And how did she know that was what he was thinking?

  “Gonna need you to get out of my head, Kris.”

  The Tauranian laughed softly. “It is easy to know your thoughts, Trace Child of Hale. Especially when we are all thinking the same thing.”

  Hale turned to check the troops in the back. Kris checked and rechecked her weapon, apparently done speaking for the time being. Anesu sat in the third row jump seat. She was talking with another guardsman. She turned and their eyes met. Her steely resolve softened when she saw him. She smiled. As if his face took on a life of its own, Hale couldn’t help but smile back. Her smile was one of the things he loved about her.

  Loved?

  He turned back to the front and shook his head.

  Not the time, Hale.

  “How far are we out?” he asked Chege.

  “All geospatial is down,” Chege said. The city flew by at breakneck speed. It was everything the Kushite soldier could do to keep up with Zombie as she weaved in and out of traffic. “But by my reckoning? Two, perhaps three minutes?”

  “You’ve been to Shangjai before?” Hale asked.

  “No sir. I memorized the maps.”

  “Sonofabitch,” Hale laughed. “Man—you KRG guys are shit-hot.”

  “Did you not already know this?” Anesu asked from the back.

  Hale turned. “I guess I did,” he conceded. “We all set?” he asked.

  Kris nodded, cradling her long gun in her shoulder. She crossed her legs in the chair and closed her eyes. Anesu and the Kushite troops all replied in the affirmative.

  “Okay,” he said. An air car passed them moving in the opposite direction, swooshing by and barely missing them. Hale got back on comms. “TOC this is one. We’re about two minutes out. Any way you can tell us what to expect?”

  “Razor One this is the TOC,” X37’s replied in a bright, cheerful voice. “Unfortunately, our geospatial and satellite ISR are down. But we have access to the city’s camera and holo networks. From what we can see, it looks like a large gathering in the streets. The city is in chaos. You’ll have to be careful on your approach, but the street the Grand Nebula sits on looks fairly clear.”

  “Copy that TOC. Where’s Jaguar?”

  “Standing by Razor One,” Lima said. “I am still working the communications problem. Over.”

  “Copy TOC. We’ll check back in as needed. Razor Team out.”

  One minute fifty seconds later Zombie’s lead vehicle careened toward the parking structure of the Grand Nebula. She screeched to a stop in front of the entryway’s padded lever. Hale braced himself on the vehicle’s dash as his own vehicle shuddered to a halt.

  “Stop!” the guard inside the gatehouse called. An older Salusian man dressed in the hotel’s security uniform of white shirt, jacket, and slacks waddled from the guardhouse toward Zombie’s vehicle.

  “Standby Two,” Hale said in the comms. “I’ve got this.” He leapt from the vehicle and intercepted the hotel security officer. The Salusian’s eyes went wide at the sight of Hale’s armor and the weapon slung across his chest. “We’re with the UN security forces,” Hale lied. He flipped open a plasti-screened ID. Lima had given one to all the members of the team.

  “I-I don’t know anything about a UN security team being here,” the guard said.

  Hale noticed the guard’s shining pink skin had begun to wrinkle, a sign of the Salusian’s age. He fixed the hotel security guard with a stare. “You need to evacuate this building, sir. Now.”

  Either the ID—or Hale’s demeanor, or the rifle across his chest, or the heavily armed shooters sitting in the vehicles behind him—convinced the guard.

  “O-ok,” he stammered. The security officer keyed up his handheld comm unit. “Security office? This is the parking gate.” A puzzled look crossed the officer’s face when he got nothing but static over the hotel wave. He looked up at Hale. “Radio’s not working,” he said.

  “They’ve jammed the wave,” Hale told him. “You’re going to need to get the word out the old fashioned way.”

  The guard stood frozen, looking up at Hale, dumfounded.

  “Now!” Hale barked. That snapped him out of it. The guard took off for the stairs as fast as his squat legs would carry him.

  Hale jogged to the gatehouse, reached inside, and activated the lever arm. He jumped back into the second vehicle.

  “Go Two,” he said. “Stage us as close to the exits as possible.”

  The two vehicles squealed across the lot, passing the Salusian security guard as they went. Hale couldn’t fault him. He was a regular Joe working a regular job, probably retired or very close to it. In Hale’s experience, people of all species did the best they could in an emergency. It took a certain type of personality to thrive in chaos. The fact was, most weren’t equipped for these kinds of situations.

  The trucks crossed the lot and skidded to a halt. Hale was out of the vehicle and issuing orders before his barrel cleared the door.

  “I want three teams,” he said, his eyes roaming the parking structure. “Lash-you take a couple of the KRG shooters and help our Salusian security friend start getting people the hell out of this hotel. Make sure the dignitaries are secured and get them evacuated first.”

  Lash nodded. “I’m on it Hale,” the big Salayan said. He grabbed several Kushite shooters and took off at a run, making for the same set of stairs where the parking garage guard was headed.

  “Can you go with him?” Hale asked Anesu. “Help Lash keep things in line?”

  She watched him for a moment, looking as if she might argue but then thinking better of it. “I will see you when this is over,” she finally said.

  Hale shot her his best, most charming smile. “You can bet on it.”

  He wondered if he was doing the right thing. Was he ordering her out of harm’s way, trapping her in a building that could be destroyed, or simply making the best use of his team’s resources? Hale wanted to second guess himself, wanted to say more. But this wasn’t the place. And he didn’t have the luxury. Anesu gave him a last look, before taking off to join Lash and her countrymen.

  He turned to his 2IC. “Zombie—you and Shane take some of these KRG hitters. You’ll comprise team two, and will assist me in assaulting the sublevels. Kris—you, the rest of the Kushite shooters, and the scientist are with me. Let’s move.”

  The team had the floorplan of the hotel committed to memory. They bypassed the elevators, instead opting to take the stairs. They ran up three flights. Hale listened for the sound of the fire alarms the entire way. Hearing nothing, he figured Ramsey must have shut them down as well. They slowed as they hit the hotel atrium and lobby.

  “We go easy, but we move with a purpose,” Hale said. “Keep your weapons low profile. No need to spook the hotel guests any more than th
ey might already be.”

  He’d expected panicked chaos in the lobby, but was surprised to find just the opposite. The place wasn’t as full as Hale would have thought. Hotel staff moved along calmly, guiding people toward the exits. He spotted their parking lot security friend, leaning against the massive front desk and breathing heavily. He didn’t know what the old Salusian had said to the hotel’s staff, but he’d done an excellent job of conducting an orderly evac.

  They made their way through the stream of hotel guests with as much force as they dared use, drawing less stares than Hale expected.

  “Every damned wave on the city must be down,” Zombie said. She’d been trying to alert local law enforcement since they left the vehicles.

  Hale eyed the fire suppression controls on the wall. All the indicators were in the red, confirming his suspicions. “They’ve killed the alarms, too.”

  “They are disturbingly thorough,” Kris remarked.

  Disturbingly. It was a great choice of words.

  They slipped through a side door of the lobby, avoiding the increasingly large press of guests. Hotel staff and security worked to keep people moving. Just like the Salusian gate guard, they were rent-a-cop types, mostly. The kind of person who worked a nine to five. The kind who ate too many pastries, and spent not enough time at the range or the gym. Not a single vet among them as far as Hale could tell.

  The stairs to the sublevels were clear. They raced down, taking them two and three at a time. They passed no one. Minutes later Hale and his two teams emerged from the stairwell. The sublevels spread out before them, looking more like an industrial complex than the area underneath a hotel. Vast energy and environmental units sat several stories below, reaching up another story high.

  “TOC this is One,” Hale said, trying to raise Lima. Nothing.

  “The sublevels must have us blocked,” Shane said. She shook her head. “Amazing. We can get a signal across galaxies through a jump gate, but a few hundred meters of duracrete still kills it.”

  “I actually have an explanation,” a nervous Shemi said. “Yu see, the—,”

  “Enough, Shemi,” Hale said. “Just keep your head down. And stay close. Wouldn’t want you getting lost down here.”