by S. D. Perry
S.T.A.R.S. training when they were both much young– er men. Barry told a good story, even if it was only to kill time. David listened with half an ear as Barry related an anecdote about their graduation night, involving a rather humorless drill sergeant and sever– al rubber snakes. The girl was relaxing, even enjoying the story of their childish prank– -seventeen years ago. She would have been cele– brating her first birthday. Still, she had put her questions on hold at Barry's request, even though David knew she had to be anxious about what he'd told her. The ability to retrain one's focus so quickly was an admirable trait, one that he'd never fully mastered. He'd been able to think of little else since his own call to the S.T.A.R.S. AD. David's devotion to the organization had made the apparent betrayal all the more bitter, like a bad taste in his mouth that wouldn't go away. The S.T.A.R.S. had been David's life for almost twenty years, had given him all the things he'd lacked growing up-a sense of self-worth, a sense of purpose and integrity.
And just like that, the lives of dedicated men and women, my life and life's work simply tossed aside as if it meant nothing. How much did that cost? How much did Umbrella have to pay to buy the S.T.A.R.S.'s honor?
David shook the anger, focusing his attention on Rebecca. If all he'd learned was true, time was short and their resources were now severely limited. His motivations weren't as important right now as hers. He could tell by the way she held herself that she wasn't the shy or submissive type, and she was obviously bright; her eyes fairly sparkled with it. From what Barry had told him, she'd acted profes– sionally throughout the Spencer facility operation. Her file suggested that she was more than qualified to work with a chemical virus, assuming that she was as good as the reports said-and assuming she has any desire to put her life in further danger. That was going to be the sticking point. She hadn't been with the S.T.A.R.S. for very long, and knowing that they'd sold their people out probably wasn't going to overwhelm her with feelings of confidence for the job ahead. It would be just as easy for her to step out of the game now. For that matter, it would be the intelligent choice for all of them. There was a knock at the door, presumably the other two Alphas. David's hand drifted down to the butt of his nine-millimeter as Barry went to answer. When he walked back in leading the S.T.A.R.S. team members, David relaxed, then stood up to be formally introduced.
"Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield-this is Captain David Trapp, military strategist for the Maine
S.T.A.R.S. Exeter branch."
Chris was the marksman, if David remembered correctly, and Jill something of a covert B amp;E special– ist. Barry said that the pilot, Brad Vickers, had skipped town shortly after the Spencer incident. No great loss, from what he could gather; the man sounded distinctly unreliable. He shook hands with both of them and they all sat down, Barry nodding toward him.
"David's an old comrade of mine. We worked together on the same team for about two years, right after boot camp. He showed up on my doorstep about an hour ago with news, and I didn't think it could wait. David?"
David cleared his throat, trying to focus on the significant facts. After a pause, he began at the begin-ning.
"As you already know, six days ago, Barry placed several calls to various S.T.A.R.S. branches to see if any word had come from the home office about the tragedy that occurred here. I received one of those calls. It was the first I'd heard about it, and I've since found out that the New York office hasn't contacted anyone about your discovery. No warnings or memos. Nothing has been issued to the S.T.A.R.S. regarding the Umbrella Corporation."
Chris and Jill exchanged looks of concern. "Maybe they're not done investigating," Chris said slowly. David shook his head. "I spoke to the assistant director myself the day after Barry called. I didn't tell him about the contact, only that I'd heard rumor of a problem in Raccoon, and wanted to know if it had any merit."
He looked at the assembled group and sighed inwardly, feeling like he'd already gone over it a thousand times.
Only in my mind, searching for another answer… and there isn 't one. "The AD wouldn't tell me anything outright," he continued, "and he told me that I should remain quiet about it until official word came down. What he would say was that there had been a helicopter crash in Raccoon City-and what he implied was that the surviving S.T.A.R.S. were trying to lay blame on Umbrella, angry over some sort of funding dispute." "But that's not true!" Jill said. "We were investigat-ing the murders, and found…" "Yes, Barry told me," David interrupted. "You found that the murders were the result of a laboratory accident. The T-Virus that Umbrella was experiment-ing with was released somehow and it transformed the researchers into mad killers." "That's exactly what happened," Chris said. "I know it sounds nuts, but we were there, we saw them." David nodded. "I believe you. I have to admit, I was skeptical after speaking with Barry. As you say, it sounds 'nuts'-but my call to New York and what's happened since has changed all that. I've known Barry for a long time, and I knew that he wouldn't be looking to place blame for such an unfortunate inci-dent unless Umbrella was, in fact, responsible. He even told me about his own unwilling involvement in the attempted cover up." "But if Tom Kurtz told you that there was no conspiracy…" Chris said. David sighed. "Yes. We have to assume that either our own organization has been misled-or that, like your Captain Wesker, members of the S.T.A.R.S. are now working for Umbrella."
There was a moment of shocked silence as they absorbed the information, and David could see anger and confusion play across their faces. He knew how they felt. It meant that the S.T.A.R.S. directors had either been manipulated by Umbrella or corrupted by them-and either way, the survivors of the Raccoon team had been hung out to dry, left vulnerable to whatever Umbrella might do.
God, if only I could believe that it was all a mis-take. "Three days ago, I picked up a tail on my way in to work," he said softly. "I wasn't able to make them, but I'm assuming that they're some of Umbrella's people and that my call to New York was respon-sible." "Have you tried to get hold of Palmieri?" Jill asked. David nodded. The S.T.A.R.S. national command– er was the one man he knew was above taking bribes; Marco Palmieri had been with the S.T.A.R.S. since the very beginning. "I was informed by his secretary that he's leading a classified operation in the Middle East and won't be available for months-and word has it that arrangements are being made for his retirement while he's away." "You think Umbrella's behind it?" Chris asked. David shrugged. "Umbrella has made substantial donations to the S.T.A.R.S. over the years, which means they have the contacts. If they're trying to turn the S.T.A.R.S. away from investigating them, getting rid of Dr. Palmieri would be to their advantage."
David glanced around the room, trying to assess their readiness for the rest of it. Barry's fists were clenched, and he stared at them as if he'd never seen them before. Jill and Rebecca both seemed lost in thought, though he could see that they had accepted his story as truth. It would save them time, at least… Chris stood up and started to pace, his youthful features flushed with anger. "So basically, we've got no credibility with the locals, no backup coming, and we've been branded as liars by our own people. The Umbrella investigation is dead and we're screwed, does that pretty much sum it up?"
David could see that the anger wasn't directed at him, just as the anger that he felt wasn't for the young Alpha. The thought of what Umbrella had done, what the S.T.A.R.S. were involved in-it made him sick with rage, with feelings of helplessness that he hadn't felt since his childhood.
Stop thinking of yourself. Tell them the rest.
David stood up and looked at Chris, though he addressed all of them. He hadn't even had time to tell Barry yet.
"Actually, there's more. It seems that there's anoth-er Umbrella facility on the Maine coast, conducting experiments with this virus of theirs-and just like what happened here, they've lost control."
David turned to Rebecca, taking in her wide, horri-fied gaze as he finished. "I'm taking a team in, without S.T.A.R.S. authorization-and I want you to come with us."
; TWO
They all stared at david, chris feeling like he'd just been punched in the gut. He was still reeling from the information about the S.T.A.R.S., from the realization that they were on their own and now another lab?
And he wants to take Rebecca…
David went on, his dark gaze still fixed on the young Bravo. "I've talked to the people on my team I believe to be trustworthy, and three of them have agreed to go. I'm not going to lie to you-it will be dangerous, and without the S.T.A.R.S. to back us up, there's no guarantee we'll be able to close the lab down. We just want to go in, collect some solid evidence on this T-Virus, and get back out before anyone even knows we're…"
Before he could stop himself, Chris interrupted.
"I'm going, too." "We all go," Barry said firmly. Jill nodded, putting her arm around Rebecca. The teen seemed flustered, her cheeks red, and looking at her, Chris was once again reminded of Claire. It was more than just a physical resemblance; Rebecca had the same wit, the same spirited blend of courage and thoughtfulness that Chris's younger sister had. And since the Spencer estate disaster, Chris had come to feel just as protec– tive of Rebecca. Too many of his friends had died already. Joseph, Richard, Kenneth, Forest, and Enrico-not to mention Billy Rabbitson; his body had never been found, but Chris had no doubts that Umbrella had killed him to keep him from talking. It wasn't that Rebecca couldn't handle herself…
… but damn it, she's part of our team. No way she goes without us. David shook his head. "Look, this isn't a full-scale op; five people is already stretching it. Rebecca's got the background we need to find the data on the virus, and she already knows what symptoms to look for." "You've got your team right here," Chris said. "You can take us instead, let your guys look into the cover up."
David sat back down and looked at Chris, his face expressionless, "Tell me who's involved in Umbrella's conspiracy to hide their research," he said. Chris glanced at the others, then back at David, determined not to let his confusion show. "We sus-pect several people locally. Umbrella's office workers, of course. The police commissioner, Chief Irons, a couple of his men…" David nodded. "And now that it looks like the
S.T.A.R.S. are in on this, what do you propose to do?" Where the hell is he going with this? Chris sighed. "I don't know. I… we should con-tact the Feds, maybe an internal affairs division to look into the S.T.A.R.S. and the RPD." Barry cut in "…and we'll get in touch with some of the other S.T.A.R.S. branches. There are still good people working out there who ain't gonna be too happy that Umbrella's taking over." David nodded again. "So you agree that Umbrella has to be stopped, even though it will be dangerous?" "Well, no shit," Chris said, scowling angrily. "We can't just sit around and do nothing, there's no telling what could happen if the T-Virus gets out again!" "And what can you tell me about the classification of the virus?" David asked quietly. Chris opened his mouth to answer-and then closed it, staring at David thoughtfully. He was about to say, "You should ask Rebecca." And he knows it. David stood up and looked at all of them in turn as he spoke, his voice intense and determined. "I agree, Umbrella has to be stopped-but let's not kid our-selves. We're talking about breaking from the
S.T.A.R.S. and going up against a multi-billion dollar establishment on our own. Nowhere is going to be safe, and our only chance for success is if we each do what we can, what we're good at, to take Umbrella down."
He fixed his cool gaze on Chris, as if he realized that Chris was the one who had to be convinced. "You and Jill and Barry already know what to look for here, and you've been with the S.T.A.R.S. longer than Rebecca. You should stay here, out of sight, see if you can ferret out the connection between the local police and Umbrella-and reach out to the S.T.A.R.S. members that you think would help us." David turned to Rebecca again. "And if you agree, I think we should leave for Maine tonight. With the information I have, it looks as though things have already gotten out of hand. My team is standing by; we could go in tomorrow at dusk."
The room was silent for a moment, the only sound that of the ceiling fan whirring overhead. Chris still felt angry, but couldn't find a hole in the man's logic; he was right about their options, and whether Chris liked it or not, the choice to go to Maine was Rebecca's to make. "What information do you have?" Jill asked thoughtfully. "How did you find out about the lab?" David reached down to a battered briefcase propped next to his chair and dug through it, pulling out a file folder. "An interesting story in itself, if a strange one. I was hoping that one of you might be able to decipher some of this…"
He laid out three sheets of paper on the coffee table as he spoke, what looked like photocopies of newspa-per clippings, and a simple diagram. "Shortly after I talked to the home office, I received a visit from a stranger, a man who claimed to be a friend of the S.T.A.R.S… he told me his name was Trent, and gave me these." "Trent!" Jill broke in excitedly. She turned to Chris, her eyes wide, and Chris felt his heart skip a beat. He'd almost forgotten about their mysterious benefactor. The guy who told Jill to watch out for traitors, who told Brad where to pick us up… David stared at Jill, his expression puzzled. "You know him?" "Just before we went in to rescue the Bravos, a man named Trent gave me some information about the Spencer estate, and warned me about Wesker," Jill said. "He was quite a piece of work, real shady-he didn't give anything away, you know? But he knew what was going on with Umbrella, and what he did tell me all panned out." Barry nodded. "And Brad Vickers said that Trent called in the estate's coordinates right after Wesker activated the triggering system. If he hadn't radioed, we woulda blown up with the rest of the mansion."
Chris suddenly realized that he had a serious head– ache brewing as they all gathered around Barry's coffee table, staring down at the papers. The
S.T.A.R.S. were working for Umbrella, there was another T-Virus facility operating in Maine-and now Trent again, popping up like some cryptic fairy godmother, his motives impossible to guess at. It was like some kind of a game, the stakes all or nothing as they struggled to get to the bottom of Umbrella's conspiracy.
And we have no choice but to play-but whose game are we playing? And what do we risk losing if we fail?
Chris shot an unhappy glance at Rebecca, thinking again of his kid sister and wishing, not for the first time, that they'd never heard of Umbrella. David watched them study the information that Trent had given him, somehow not surprised that the enigmatic stranger had contacted the S.T.A.R.S. be– fore. The man had been a professional, though at what, precisely, David couldn't imagine.
Why would he want to help us fight Umbrella? What's in it for him?
David thought back to the brief encounter he'd had only five days ago, searching his memory for some additional clues, something he'd missed. He'd arrived home late from work, and it had been raining…… pouring, a thundering summer storm that beat at the windows and masked the sound of his gentle knocking… The Exeter S.T.A.R.S. had enjoyed an easy sum-mer, more paperwork than action. The Bravos had taken off for a criminal profiling seminar in New Hampshire, and David had been entertaining thoughts of packing a bag and attending the final days-until he'd received Barry's call, followed by his first hint from the home office that something was wrong. He'd spent the next day calling a few of his branch contacts with discreet questions and digging through files on Umbrella, not making it home until almost midnight. The driving rain had ushered him into his cold, dark house, the atmosphere matching his mood perfectly. He'd poured a scotch and collapsed on the couch, his head spinning from the implications of what he'd learned-that either his old friend Barry was lying or that the AD for the S.T.A.R.S. was. The rapping at his door was so soft that he missed it at first, the steady rain hammering on the roof cover– ing the sound. Then it grew louder. Frowning, David looked at his watch and walked slowly to the door, wondering who the hell came calling in the middle of the night. He lived alone and had no family; it had to be work, or maybe someone with car trouble… He cracked the door open-and saw a man in a black trench coat standing on his porch, stream
s of water running down his lined face. The stranger smiled, an open, friendly expression, his eyes glittering bright with humor. "David Trapp?" David took in the man at a glance. Tall and thin, maybe a few years past David's age, say forty-two or forty-three. His dark hair was plastered to his skull by the rain, and he held a large manila envelope in one gloved hand.
"Yes?" The man grinned wider. "My name is Trent, and this is for you."
He held out the damp envelope and David glanced at it warily, not sure if he should take it. Mr. Trent didn't seem dangerous, or at least not threatening, but he was still a stranger, and David preferred to know the people he accepted gifts from."Do I know you?" David asked. Trent shook his head, his smile unwavering. "No. But I know you, Mr. Trapp. And I also know what you're about to go up against. Believe me, you're going to need all the help you can get." "I don't know what you're talking about. Perhaps you have me confused with someone else."
Trent's smile faded as he extended the envelope, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "Mr. Trapp, it's raining. And this is for you."
Confused and not a little irritated, David opened the door wider to accept the envelope. As soon as he grasped it, Trent turned and started to walk away. "Hold on a moment." Trent ignored him, disappearing into the rain– drenched shadows around the side of the house. David stood in the doorway uncertainly, holding the damp paper and staring into the pouring darkness for another minute before going back inside. Once he'd studied the contents, he wished he'd gone after Trent, but by then, of course, it was too late. Too late and only too obvious what he'd meant. He knew about Umbrella and the S.T.A.R.S., but who does he work for? And why did he choose to contact me?