Eugenic Reprisal (Halcyon Gate Book 2)

by J. M. Preiss

  "Stuff learned through the grapevine is iffy at best," Lieutenant Adams retorted. "We need hard evidence to base any assumptions off of."

  "And that's just it, Adams," Jacobsen said with a wave of his right hand. "Anything involving Specs is only going to be word of mouth. The stuff that they do is strictly off the book, disavowed, and no letter home kind of stuff."

  "Ok, slow down," Mason said as he shook his head. "What exactly does this theory of yours have to do with the Specs?"

  Jacobsen cleared his throat.

  "This new threat that they are assembling to face," he began. "It isn't showing up on any of the news networks. There are only the rumors in the ranks and a few conspiracy theories showing up on the internet. Some snapped pictures have also shown up, but they are quickly erased and completely purged from the internet by some kind of aggressive worm."

  "This isn't getting to the point, Lieutenant," Mason said impatiently. "We have no idea what we are facing here, and you are regaling me with whispered stories of Specs moving in the dark. How do you even know that they are Specs? They could be hoaxes that the government is taking down as due course. Actually, never mind. Don't answer that. What is this theory of yours? This time, be concise."

  "They aren't hoaxes, sir. I'd recognize a Spec anywhere. I've seen their armor before. That matte black, scale-like pattern is hard to forget. It almost shimmers with how it lets them blend into the shadows. They really are like specters," Jacobsen prattled.

  "Point. Now," Mason demanded.

  "Sorry, sir," Jacobsen said as he slumped his shoulders. "This new threat could have substantial power if the Specs are being brought in to combat them quietly. Who knows what kind of stuff they are facing? What if this threat has found its way to New York? Specs are only called into action against severe threats, and anybody that they are fighting is going to be dangerous, more dangerous than we are prepared to take on."

  "Noted," Mason said. He didn't have time for this conspiracy theory bullshit. "Adams, when you get some concrete evidence, and I mean something that you can hand to me, of what we're going up against, come get me. Until then, Jacobsen, try to push that conspiracy theory nonsense to the back of your head. What our Special Forces do is of none of our concern. These are terrorists. If they are this new threat that you claim to be out there, we wouldn't be the people responding."

  "Sir," both lieutenants said in unison before saluting and walking away.

  "I'm getting too old for this," Mason muttered.

  "Central on the line for you, sir," his communications officer said.

  "Baker Actual, over," Mason said as he switched over to the channel to Central.

  "Baker Actual, Central," a female voice came across the speaker. "Your initial thought has panned out, break. There appears to have been a sleeper agent within the engineering team, break. Your orders are to continue on mission, over."

  "Central, Baker Actual. Continuing on mission, out," Mason responded.

  Switching over to the command channel for his company, he sighed.

  "Baker, Baker Actual," he said. "Mission continues as planned, break. Platoon leaders' conference on channel two in fife, out."

  "I'm not liking this one bit," Mason said under his breath as he switched over to the channel for his command squad. "Okay, boys. It looks like Central hasn't got anything for us. I'm of the mind that they actual have more information than they are letting on, but apparently it has been deemed unimportant for our mission. Theories?"

  His communications officer was the first to speak.

  "Sir, I'm sure that whatever information they have isn't really that important. So we know it was somebody on the inside that was paid off. What does that get us? It only tells us how they got in. Maybe it was a person who was down on his luck with gambling debt or something."

  "I concur with that," another one of his sergeants said.

  They all nodded.

  "Very well," Mason nodded, but he didn't share the feelings of his non-commissioned officers. They might be newer and fresher at this than him, but that didn't mean that he was losing his edge. Something wasn't sitting right with him about this. He mulled it over for the remaining few minutes before switching to the conference channel.

  "Alright, boys. Status report."

  "Baker One reporting green. No joy."

  "Baker Two reporting green. No joy."

  "Baker Three reporting green. No joy."

  Mason sighed.

  "I was hoping for something a little more exciting than an all-clear," he said as he scratched at the protective layer on the back of his neck. They really needed to fix the comfort issues, he thought with annoyance.

  "You know my thoughts, sir," Jacobsen said. "This has Spec written all over it."

  "Not this again," Adams groaned.

  "Pipe down, you two," the second platoon lieutenant said.

  First Lieutenant Hans was by far Mason's best officer, and they had been through multiple police actions together. Hans was as closed to a grizzled veteran as it got when compared to Mason.

  "Specs aren't here. If they were here, we would already be on our way home," he growled.

  "I'm not saying that they are here," Jacobsen pleaded. "There is something about this that isn't sitting well with me, and movement with the Specs means that there is something afoot. This could be a lot bigger than Central is letting on."

  Mason had to agree.

  "Okay, Jacobsen. You're making a valid point now," Mason sighed. "With a lack of network access from out here, we need to get past the security doors. How long to cut through them?"

  "Ten, maybe fifteen minutes," Adams responded. "I can blast through them in a matter of seconds if we have to, but I don't think that Central would like us incurring a remodeling bill for this complex."

  "No, they wanted very little collateral damage," Mason confirmed. "Have the charges ready just in case, but until then, I want you to get cutting through the doors. Due to the layout of this place, our only access to the inner facility is here at Alpha point. Let's consolidate and be prepared to push through in mass. We don't know what's on the other side of those doors, but we do know that it will be hostile. Pre-mission RoE is rescinded. Shoot targets on sight."

  "Sir," Hans began.

  "No disagreement, Lieutenant," Mason stopped him. "We can discuss the legality of this order after the fact, but something isn't sitting right with me on this."

  "Yes, sir," Hans said.

  "Hop to it, men. We have limited time to secure this facility. The longer we wait; the more time they have to prime the reactor for an overload."

  Mason closed the channel and looked back over the map as he watched his company roll into motion. The men of Second Platoon peeled back away from the over watch they had down the access corridor that ringed the facility while First and Third broke out cutting torches.

  Second Platoon had barely made it to the rest of the platoon when the first torches bit into the metal and started burning bright red lines into the thick metal doors. That is when the blasts went off.

  The men closest to the doors were vaporized instantly. They didn't have a chance to scream or feel pain. They were simply gone.

  Mason was flung off his feet. Second Platoon was far enough away to only be staggered, but the men were dazed. In less than a second, the majority of First and Third were gone.

  "Contacts!"

  Mason didn't know who was shouting. The technology in his armor was good enough that it shielded him from the majority of the pressure wave as well as preserved his hearing to an extent, but he was too dazed to think straight as he clambered up into a crouch. He shouldered his rifle as it deployed out into position.

  "I can't see them! I can't see-"

  Mason heard another scream that broke into static as the man transmitting had his head removed by what looked to be a bright blast of what could only be a plasma weapon. These terrorists had advanced military weapons, Spec weapons.

  "Focus fire," Mason fina
lly managed to bark. "Suppressing fire down the corridor through the door. Deploy flash bangs."

  Two fire teams from Second Platoon pressed the rifles firmly into their shoulders and unleashed full-automatic fire down the corridor. There were bright flashes as the beams impacted something, but Mason couldn't tell what it was through the now billowing black smoke. A succession of cracks ripped through the air, and his view briefly flashed bright white before the onboard computer managed to compensate for the flash bangs. The incoming fire slackened.

  "First Platoon," Mason barked. "Assault the breach. I want covering fire from Second and Third. Get those men through the hole."

  He put words to action as he switched over to full-auto and unleashed a rip of death down the obscured corridor. He thought he saw the flash of an armor strike, but he was ultimately unable to tell because of all of the smoke.

  The smoke. Mason didn't think about it before because he was so dazed, but it struck him like a train when he realized what was happening.

  "First Platoon," he shouted. "Hold!"

  But it was too late. The covering fire leapt forth down the corridor. There were more flashes from definite armor hits. First Platoon, the handful of men that were left, dove through the shattered door.

  They were met by a volley of plasma fire that caught them out in the open. Only two men managed to duck back behind cover.

  The smoke made it where the laser weaponry that Mason and his men were carrying mostly useless. It diffused the beam too much. The blasts should have still been powerful enough to incapacitate any targets, but if they really were wearing armor. They would be relatively unscathed by the ineffectual weapons.

  "Hold positions," Mason said before switching over to his direct channel with Central Command.

  "Central, Baker Actual," Mason panted. "Hostile force engaged, over."

  "Baker Actual, Central," the female voice responded with a calm and cool tone. "Repeat last."

  "Central, Baker Actual. Hostile force is engaged, break. Requesting reinforcements, break. Hostile force is armed with advanced weaponry, over."

  "Baker Actual, Central. Confirmed transmission, over."

  They didn't say that they were sending reinforcements.

  "Central, Baker Actual. We need those damn reinforcements, over."

  "Baker Actual, Central. Request understood. No available force, over."

  Mason cursed as plasma fire blew past his cover and splashed against the far wall, metal melting and erupting in a shower of superheated death.

  "Central, Baker Actual. Make something available, over."

  "Baker Actual, Central. Understood. Will dispatch nearest available force. Wait one, over."

  Mason felt like he didn't have a minute as more plasma fire blew chunks out of the security desk that he had dove behind. He took one of the grenades off of his belt, keyed and dialed in maximum yield with a three second delay after impact, and threw it down the corridor.

  The plasma fire continued unabated before the corridor was illuminated beyond bright from the blast. Mason could make out silhouettes that looked to be too close. The plasma fire abated.

  "Shore up defensive positions," Mason shouted over the company-wide channel.

  "Baker Actual, Central," the female voice said on the direct line. "Team has been found and is oscar mike. Echo tango alpha ten minutes, out."

  Mason cursed again. Ten minutes was too long.

  "Expend those cells, men," he said over the company channel. "We're not taking anything home with use except for their broken bodies."

  Mason slapped in a fresh power cell before re-shouldering his weapon and aiming down the corridor. It was still choked with smoke, but firing the weapon made him feel better.

  It had only been a matter of minutes. The mission had gone from one of quiet anticipation to a heated firefight in an untenable position. He had to get his men back to a safer position.

  "Second Platoon," he said in a calmer voice that he didn't feel. "Set up suppression positions. Cover the retreat of First and Third to new coordinate Charlie. Reinforcements are inbound, but we need to hold out until they make it here."

  "Understood, Captain," Hans said. "You heard the old man, let's get this shit done and get home."

  Mason watched as the few surviving members of First and Third peeled back from where they had been. The plasma fire was less than it had been before Mason's grenade, but it was starting to pick up in intensity again.

  "Get the lead out, soldiers," Mason commanded. "We don't have much time before they learn that we are pulling back. I want to be in a new position before that happens."

  The last man from Third Platoon hobbled past Mason with help from one of the members of his fire team. Mason did one last quick check, visual and on his HUD, to make sure nobody was being left behind before he pulled back.

  "Give me grenades, three, into the corridor. Let's give them a going away present," Mason shouted.

  He was halfway to the exit when he heard First Lieutenant Hans shout.

  "Sir! Grenade!"

  Mason turned around just in time to see the explosive device sail over the desk he had been hiding behind. Time seemed to slow as it tumbled through the air.

  He felt as if he was able to count the individual markings on it in the eternity that he was trapped in. Closing his eyes, he thought of Marlene and Jessica and how much he loved them.

  The grenade detonated.

  Chapter XV

  The smoke got thicker the closer to the hangar facility they got. A dull, red glow from beyond the next corner gave Mason the chills. Absentmindedly, he clenched his left fist.

  "Are you okay?" Chelsea asked inside his helmet.

  Mason closed his eyes and shook his head.

  "It's nothing."

  "How close are we to the facility now, Sara?" Jacob asked, breaking the growing silence.

  "It's not far beyond the next corner," she responded sullenly.

  "If that is the case, it would seem that our little explosive we sent down may have damaged it," Chelsea added.

  "That could complicate things," Jacob said.

  "I'm not liking the idea of added complications, Lieutenant," Mason said. "We need to find our way out of this place and get some answers."

  Mason's voice was strained, and Jacob was able to tell that there was something else on his mind. He decided against asking.

  "Well, let's just hope that things are going to swing in our favor then."

  Rounding the corner slowly, first peeking around to make sure there was nobody waiting in ambush, Jacob tried to see what he could through the thick smoke.

  On thermal vision, he was able to make out multiple hotspots that flickered and moved. Fire. There was a blasted out section of the ceiling that had edges that still glowed, kept hot by the fire raging beneath. Looking deeper into the hangar, Jacob could make out where secondary explosions had been triggered by the initial blast. Debris was strewn haphazardly across the floor, and boxes had been upended and were lying in disorganized heaps.

  "Certainly looks like we made a mess," Mason said with a sigh. "Think there is anything in here that we can still use?"

  "We can only hope," Jacob responded. "Sara, any idea on how many crafts were in here?"

  Jacob walked forward slowly and kept looking amidst the debris.

  "Only three," Sara finally responded.

  Up against the near wall, there were two crumpled hulks that resembled what could have been transports in a past life.

  "Make that only one possibility left," Mason said.

  Off at the far end of the hangar, near where the doors were, that was a fire that had engulfed a bunch of boxes and what had to be the last transport.

  "Shit," Mason muttered as he started trotting over to the far side.

  "This could complicate things," Jacob added.

  "Check inside," Chelsea suggested. "There should be fire extinguishers. We might still be able to salvage this."

  "I hope so," Mason sai
d as he ran around to the rear of the craft.

  Debris had crushed up against the rear hatchway and jammed it shut.

  Cursing, Mason set down his rifle and tried to get closer. He hesitated for a moment when he saw his arms start to glow a dull sheen.

  "Don't worry," Chelsea said. "The suit will protect you from the heat."

  Mason grunted as he continued forward and grabbed at one of the crates. It was heavy.

  "Going to need some help," he grunted as he tried to get it to budge.

  "Right," Jacob said as he set his rifle down and moved over to Mason's side.

  With a groan that escalated into a shout, Mason and Jacob hurled the crate away from the hatchway. Beyond, there was a significant amount of charring, but the structural integrity did not seem to be compromised.

  Searching for a release switch, Jacob found a panel that recessed when he ran his hand over it. He punched a punched a button that was inside, and the hatch clicked open with a hiss. It slowly lowered on groaning actuators.

  When it had opened far enough for Mason to clamber in, he squeezed through and started looking for a fire extinguisher.

  "Pilot compartment," Chelsea suggested.

  Mason mumbled as he worked his way up through the small cargo compartment. Up above the doorway into the cockpit, there was a bright red fire extinguisher. Grabbing it, he headed back outside of the transport.

  "See if you can get this thing started up, Lieutenant. I'm going to stop this damned fire before it does some real damage," Mason ordered.

  Jacob simply nodded and went inside.

  Mason went around to the side of the craft and started putting out the fire. He had the fire mostly out before the extinguisher ran out of foam.

  "Worthless piece of," he started to say before he was interrupted by a shout from Chelsea.

  "Look out," she screamed.

  "What-"

  An energy bolt of some kind zipped past Mason's head and splashed into the crate beside him. It spalled into molten metal shrapnel at the impact site that harmlessly bounced off the defenses of his armor.