by Greig Beck
Gray nodded. ‘Yes, yes, the KBELT – klystron beam emitted-light technology. We’ve perfected the miniaturization, and added a pistol to the range. You have experience with them?’
Alex nodded, remembering the rifle he’d used on the Dark Rising mission in Iran. No stock, held like a sawn-off pump action, with a square casing over the trigger. There were two settings for the laser – high and low energy pulse. High energy cut a pencil-sized hole through anything; low energy gave about the same result as a hundred pounds of TNT delivered in a single, focused, explosive punch.
‘Did you overcome the short battery life?’ he asked.
Gray nodded, and took a step closer to Alex, his voice dropping. ‘It’s still highly classified. Only one man below the rank of general knows about it – Colonel Jack Hammerson. And now you.’ He looked up into Alex’s face, studying his features. His eyebrows came together. ‘You sure we’ve never met?’
‘Yes.’ Alex put his hand on Gray’s shoulder. ‘Now show me the KBELT pistol.’
*
Hammerson stood with his two teams on the runway. Alex, Sam, and their unit would leave first; with Reece Thompson, Matt Kearns, and Rebecca Watchorn boarding the second aircraft to Crete. The HAWCs’ suits, with the inbuilt synthetic biological armor plating, made them look like dark segmented insects.
Their rides, Lockheed SR-71 Blackbirds, were supposed to have been retired around 1996; however, the long-range reconnaissance aircraft were far too valuable to mothball, and were still in use for special payloads – Spec-Op teams that needed to be somewhere, fast. Each looked like a missile with its short wings and two huge muscular thrusters in close to the night-dark body painted with radar-reflecting paint. With a J58-P4 engine that could produce a static thrust of 32,000 pounds, the Blackbirds could cruise at Mach 3.2 – fast and near invisible. And if they were detected, at high altitude they could outrun a surface-to-air missile. Both planes had no insignia, and their pilots were also off the books. Once they crossed out of US airspace, they stopped existing.
Hammerson knew too well the burden this anonymity placed on the HAWCs, and on him. Too many young men and women lay in shallow unmarked graves around the world – Alex Hunter’s father being one of them. Hammerson gazed at Alex. The young man’s gray-blue eyes were clear; no hint of anything other than eagerness, intelligence, and explosive energy. He hoped the thing lurking somewhere within his mind remained chained behind whatever barrier Alex had created for it. If not … Hammerson didn’t want to think about the Other One taking control of his protégé in the field.
He looked around the group – no tension; just eagerness to get underway. Time for the talk, he thought.
‘The impossible jobs are ours,’ he said, and looked hard at his two senior soldiers. ‘Win or lose, no one knows but us – this is our lot. We are the HAWCs, the first line, the strongest line, and the last line. When we go in, others stand aside, or they die. Clear?’
‘HUA,’ the HAWCs said in unison, their eyes blazing.
Hammerson placed his hands on his hips. ‘Commander Kemel Baykal of the Turkish SF Kommandos went down to this thing. One hundred Special Forces soldiers, all lost. They threw everything at their target, but Magera went through them like they weren’t there. General Chilton has authorized a small HAWC unit intervention.’ He stepped in closer to the two big men. ‘So, goddamn intervene. I want to know what this thing really is. We know line of sight is high risk, and even viewing it remotely can be hazardous. We’re working on some tech to get around those limitations, but for now, use caution. As a minimum we want to know if it has a physical form. If it does, we can destroy it. And watch your backs – Borshov is on the ground there somewhere.’
He stood back and saluted. ‘HAWCs, it’s our turn now – make it count. Good luck and God speed.’
Alex saluted, then turned to his team. ‘Load ’em up, people.’
The HAWCs and the SAS man piled into the first Blackbird. Alex was last, and he turned and nodded to Hammerson before following his team onto the plane.
Hammerson’s face was grim. Magera, Borshov, and the Arcadian all in the same place at the same time, he thought. Hell on earth.
*
Turgutlu, twenty-four miles west of Izmir NATO Base
Uli Borshov and his six Spetsnaz left the truck several miles outside the town. It was still dark, with dawn several hours away. The communication intercepts had informed him of the fate of the Turkish Special Forces team, and he had to guess the Americans were here by now, or on their way. Whoever or whatever was wielding the weapon that had been decimating the Turkish population must be taken, alive or dead. The value of such power to Russia was incalculable.
Borshov knew he had a head start on the Americans, and he would use it to prepare a little surprise party. Obtaining the weapon was his priority order, but to him it was secondary to his personal objective. If he got to tear Alex Hunter’s head from his body, then he would be happy. He had fought HAWCS before and obliterated them. And he had killed Alex Hunter … or so he’d thought. This time, he would make sure. This time he would take a trophy; cut the head clean from his body, or slice his beating heart from his chest. No coming back from the dead this time, he thought grimly.
From his position overlooking the city, he saw that at its center the buildings were fairly modern, but on the outskirts the dwellings were more modest – single- and double-story homes, some looking well over a hundred years old, with smoke curling from their chimneys. It was if the further away from the center of Turgutlu you went, the farther back in time you traveled.
Borshov split his team into three units, with himself as a fourth. They would find dwellings to hide out in, and wait – for either the mysterious weapon to arrive or the HAWCs. He circled his finger in the air and the groups split and jogged toward the houses. If there were occupants, they would be subdued or killed.
CHAPTER 22
The Lockheed Blackbird dropped to just a few thousand feet above the ground, and its bay doors whined open. The hypersonic craft was virtually soundless at high altitude, but lower down its engine sounded like the scream of an oncoming train. It dropped again and slowed even further, and three large drum-like objects were ejected, falling several hundred feet before their large chutes opened. Dawn was still a couple hours off, and the dark night-chutes and matte-black canisters were invisible as they fell to the ground. The plane roared away, climbing rapidly. In a few moments it was nothing but a dark speck on a dark horizon. The canisters burst apart on impact with the ground, and the HAWCs walked free, like they’d just stepped out of an elevator.
Alex turned in a slow circle, scanning the dark countryside. Satisfied, he turned back to his team. ‘Weapons check.’
Guns, grenades, knives, lasers were slid out, pulled back, ratcheted, and sighted one after the other in smooth, almost mechanical fashion. It was all over in sixty seconds, and the four men and single woman came to attention. All were clothed in the active camouflaged biological armor, and their outlines dappled between full black and silver stripes as shafts of moonlight ran across them. Sam and Corporal Barclay Jackson were at the center, half a head taller than anyone else. Lieutenants Casey Franks, Ben Rogers, and Steve Dankirk looked like three tethered wolves waiting to be let off the leash.
Alex pointed in the direction of the small town. ‘We take up a defensive position on the urban perimeter. Plant some pipes and try and get an idea of what we’re dealing with before we get in its face.’
‘If it has one,’ Sam responded.
Alex nodded. ‘We know it has a physical form. Commander Baykal said that any soldier who got close to it got torn to pieces. We should be safe from a distance, but we don’t know what that distance is yet.’ He looked along their faces. ‘Basically, we don’t have workable intel – so we get that first. Questions?’
‘We didn’t come here just to take pictures,’ Jackson said. ‘Will we engage?’
‘When I say so. And that’s sir.’
/> Jackson raised his voice. ‘Listen, sir, we’ve got a base full of men and women just down the road. If we get a shot, we should take it.’
Alex looked Jackson full in the face. ‘Are we going to have an authority problem, Jackson? Because I got a real fast solution for that.’
Words seemed to form in Barclay Jackson’s mouth, but as he met Alex’s eyes, his lips clamped shut and he looked away. He shook his head and mumbled.
Alex stepped forward. ‘What was that, soldier?’
‘No, sir.’
Alex glared at him a moment longer, before turning to gaze along the dark strip of highway leading into the city. He closed his eyes, breathing in and out slowly, and allowing his consciousness to reach out. He could feel … something. He grunted and turned away, then paused. He turned back to the city, his eyes narrowing.
‘Something up, boss?’ Sam asked.
Alex continued to stare in the direction of the first row of buildings for several more seconds. ‘Maybe. We stay alert; we stay alive. I get the feeling we might have a reception committee waiting for us.’
‘Borshov?’ Sam put a scope to his eye.
Alex shrugged. ‘Someone down there is watching us.’
Alex kept Sam at his shoulder as they jogged toward the line of buildings. He could hear the faint whine of the MECH suit’s hydraulics.
The big HAWC turned to run backward for a few moments, holding out a small silver device, before spinning back. ‘Got something coming in fast behind us – larger signature than a person, but reader can’t decide if it’s a single biological mass or a million of ’em. Gotta be our primary target.’
Alex nodded. ‘I know, I can feel it. It’s like a cold breeze on my neck. We’ll take cover and read the data from the pipes we laid down.’
Alex turned to address his team, then felt his senses jolt. ‘Hit the dirt!’ he roared as he dived to the ground, dragging Sam with him.
Alex had sensed the bullets before they arrived. Sniper or high-velocity rifles used rounds that were shaped for speed and traveled at over 3000 feet per second. The farther they traveled, the more friction slowed them down, but by the time they reached the HAWC team they were still moving at a subsonic velocity. Alex had tried to warn his team, but they could never hope to move as fast as he did.
The first bullet took Franks in the chest, blowing her backward to lie sprawled in the dirt. More bullets thwacked into the ground and exploded off rocks.
Sam rolled and lifted his rifle, sighting at the first row of buildings. He quickly reached into a pouch for a longer scope, which he slotted onto the weapon rail. He resighted and said softly, ‘Guess that answers the reception committee question.’
Alex rolled onto his back. ‘HAWCs, sound off.’
One after the other his team shouted their call numbers. Franks’ groaning voice was last.
‘Franks, you okay?’
‘Yeah. No holes, boss. But reckon I got one doozy of a hickey on my left tit.’
Alex grinned; the biological armor plating had done its job.
He rolled back into position. ‘You got ’em, Sam?’
Sam continued to scan along the dark houses. ‘Not until they fire again. I can take a guess, but I don’t want to total a house full of civs if I’m wrong.’
Alex looked over his shoulder. ‘Well, we can’t let them keep us pinned down out here – we got a storm coming in behind us. Armor’s holding up, but a single headshot and we’re dead.’ He concentrated on the dark shapes of the buildings in the distance. ‘Got a window open, first house to the left of the small lane.’
Sam looked through the scope. ‘I see it, but it’s black as a coalminer’s ass in there.’
‘Put a round in and see what happens.’
Sam fired. The bullet hit the window frame, blowing woodchips into the air. The response was immediate – a volley of high-velocity bullets smacking into the earth around them.
Alex pulled his KBELT and held it in a two-hand grip. He flicked it to narrow beam, and fired a two-second burst. The stream of super-compressed plasma-charged particles struck the wood and passed through, and probably continued through a number of internal walls. Anything biological wouldn’t stand a chance.
‘That’ll give them something to think about,’ he said.
Sam lifted slightly and scanned the rows of houses until another few rounds smacked into the rock near his face. He snapped his head back down. ‘Jesus, they’re good.’
‘Not that good – they missed.’ Alex grinned. ‘But got to be Borshov’s Spetsnaz.’ He popped his head up for just a second. ‘They must be using bafflers. There’s no muzzle flash, and I can’t pinpoint the source by sound alone. I think we’ll –’ He felt a strange tingling at the back of his neck, and quickly rolled. ‘Oh, Christ.’
Sam hunkered down. ‘I hate it when you do that.’
Alex could see it now – in the distance, what looked to be mist coming fast down the highway. Not rolling in along the entire plain, but concentrated along the roadway. It slowed about five miles out. He could pick out a dark mass at its amorphous center, a nucleus at the core of a dreadful atom. He closed his eyes and concentrated . . . there was something else . . . a sound. Weeping.
He rolled back toward Sam. ‘We’re about to be the meat in a sandwich.’
Alex looked up at the sky – a small blush of light on the horizon signaled sunrise within the hour. He peeked again over the rocks they were hunkered behind – there was still no sign of where the snipers were hiding. He knew he needed to buy some time.
‘We can’t stay pinned down while this thing washes over the top of us. I’m going down the highway to try and slow it down. I can’t look at it, so you need to guide me in – use the scanners.’
Alex peeked over the rocks again, then touched a button over his ear, sending his instructions to all team members. ‘Primary target is coming down fast on our six. I’m going to buy us some time. Stay low while I draw fire, but keep moving forward. Do not, I repeat, do not turn around to look at me. If things get too hot, zero sniper positions are to remain viable. No exceptions.’
Alex looked at Sam, who nodded. He knew what Alex was asking: they’d need to obliterate most of the houses closest to them, confirmed enemy targets or not. Innocent people were about to die.
‘Ready?’ Alex said.
Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you?’
Alex smiled grimly, and exploded up from the ground. He’d sprinted half a mile back down the road before the snipers even got a bead on him. He dived and came up hard behind a large rock. Bullets flew past, but he was safe.
He glanced briefly at the mist ahead, now moving again, then instantly looked away. Don’t look at it, don’t look at it, he told himself. It was just a few miles away now, and closing fast. He heard the sound, the weeping, clearly now. It sounded almost human.
‘What the hell are you?’ he whispered.
He sensed it slowing even more, and knew it was aware of him. He looked over the line of rocks at the HAWCs. All except for Sam were belly-crawling below the sniper fire toward the line of buildings. The air was slate-gray now as dawn rapidly approached. Soon the sun would lift over the horizon and be at their backs – giving them an edge, and bad news for the snipers.
He drew the KBELT and took a deep breath. Remember the force, Luke. He grinned and closed his eyes, concentrating on pushing out his senses to determine where the thing was. He lifted the pistol and fired. The thin beam of pulses streamed across the desert roadway, traveling the single mile to its target at the speed of light. Even over the short distance the pencil-thin pulse opened to more than an inch, and entered the center of the swirling mass. Nothing happened. He could sense it still coming at him.
‘Shit.’ He put a finger to his comm unit. ‘Sam, confirm hit on target.’
‘Dead center, boss, and no pass-through. Fully absorbed with no discernible effect.’
Alex moved the pistol calibration up to pulse. ‘Okay, let’s see it s
wallow about a hundred pounds of TNT.’
He lifted the gun, allowed his arm to move a fraction to find the target, and fired twice. The twin pulses, like balls of lightning and as large as softballs, moved at a blinding speed. Once again they entered the mass, and this time there was a reaction. The mist boiled, and heat and a crackling of energy bounced back at Alex. He lifted an arm to cover his face, and felt the body armor scorch.
His comm unit pinged in his ear. ‘Direct hits by two, but it’s still coming.’ Sam’s voice had an edge to it. ‘Boss, you better get back here, or you’re about to meet an ancient god face to face – and it ain’t the friendly type.’
Alex dropped his arm as the heat died away. ‘I heard that. Coming back. Out.’
The creature was nearly on him now – a mere few hundred yards down the highway, but approaching slowly, almost with caution.
What did Baykal miss? Think. Burning, shooting, stabbing, lasers – it seemed the thing was immune to physical trauma. It couldn’t be made of the same physical matter as they were.
Alex grimaced as the weeping became louder in his ears. Think, dammit.
He remembered Matt Kearns suggesting they try talking to it, or singing to it like the priest had. His mind sorted through the information Matt had given them, about the Gorgon legend, the codex, the few words written on the cavern wall in a long-dead language.
‘Boss, get the hell out … now!’ Sam’s voice was barely audible above the creature’s wail of pain and suffering.
Alex grunted as his eyes began to open. It was if they weren’t under his control any more. He strained to stare at the ground, using every ounce of strength and willpower not to look up. The rocks before him were starting to cast a shadow as the sun rose. The mist enveloped him, hiding him from the snipers, but now he was facing another danger. Magera was on him.
He sucked in a breath, and slowly got to his feet. It hurt to look down now; every ounce of his being was being pulled from him. He felt the creature tugging at his face, trying to drag his vision upward. In the center of his brain, something just as ferocious fought tooth and nail against the force in front of him.