by Richard Sosa
Wegin-ouk walked through a group of people praying, rocking in place chanting, desperate women holding children and men who were true believers. Everyone eyed the Bishop expectantly waiting for his next words. He basked in the attention, but his presence did not have the same effect on the large man in the back. Wegin-ouk, mantling his role as the Provider, shouted. “Braco-Yet, I have news.” The Provider could not hide his contempt for the large man as he walked toward him. Braco-Yet smiled at him but it wasn’t friendly. The Bishop scanned the brute flirting with a woman and flaunting his sins. Then he focused on the woman with him and thought, no different from all of them, a seducer from the devil, that thing that takes all men away from God. He set a disgusted stare at her. While Braco-Yet had his companion smiling then she abruptly stopped when the large man twisted her arm roughly and threatened her. She tried to get out of his arms, but he had her captured and enjoyed that she was struggling. The large man finally stood pushing his companion out of his arms like crumbs and stretched his back as he twisted side to side as if getting ready for a boxing match.
“When are we going to get out of this shit mouse hole? Did my man come through? He has money to donate, right? Everyone is tired of waiting around,” Braco-Yet said.
Wegin-ouk shook his head ‘no’. “That Overseer is a piece of shit, but we can still use him. We have information and weapons that I arranged to take off his hands, they are being delivered here tonight.”
Braco-Yet was a soldier turned mercenary on the side. “That’s damn good news. I don’t hold out for any of that newfangled shit cuz ‘of’ none of it works. Just give me a plain ole pulse rifle with lots of rounds.” He did a pretend aiming motion that he moved around the room as if targeting and ended pointing at the Bishop's forehead.
The Provider forced a smile. “You’re a son of God, his warrior. Soon, my son, we will come out with our purpose in our soul and strike the devils through the heart. We need to kill that Rik person and his she bitches. He has many.”
Braco-Yet was physically annoyed when preached to and he shifted his posture. “Many? Lucky dude.” Braco-Yet pulled his knife from his boot and cleaned his fingernails, “No need to preach the word to me, Provider. I understand my role and someday I’ll be in heaven with all these dip shits but not before I get a chance to kick some real ass down here.”
The Bishop Provider watched the rest of the men and he thought, the soldier mercenaries will serve me as long as I can fund them and these believers want heaven so bad because they have nothing left in the present world, but I have true believers from God’ his expression was flat and hardened as his eyes move over the large group. “Then god be with you all.” The Provider slapped the large soldier the back and walked away but then stopped abruptly a thought entered his disorganized brain, “At eight hundred everyone with the calling to the sword of God must report in the large spillway by the green space on Matri-blend farm.” Vapid eyes followed him as he disappeared into his private study.
The Bishop Provider prayed by himself and then choked down a bad tasting meal. “You’re not holding out, are you?” He said to his cook.
The slight muscled man with angry eyes turned from his sink and spoke calmly. “No Provider, I am working hard to find what God wants to provide from the dumpster and other places,” he returned to washing dishes in dirty water, “without refrigeration, it’s difficult and—”
“Shut the hell up. Those comforts are the things of the devil. We are tested by God in this life to inherit his world where we will eat honey and bread and our fish will be fresh and there will be cold milk for all his people.”
The gaunt man’s hands were dirty and shook from malnutrition, not fear. “The new world of god sounds like it is now for the heathens on the street above. Why does God have to destroy their world to give us what they already have, maybe we can ask them to share?” He pointed up to the street, “By the way, I stole that pie for you from the bakery. I hope you enjoy it.”
The Provider violently pushed the pie off the table to the floor. “Go to the devil,” he shouted and then eyed the plate on the floor. He pretended to be kind and judicious carrying the weight of leading a wayward flock of ignorant sheep. “God will provide for us but right now we pray and plan and then when the time is right, I will expect everyone to do their part to usher in the new order of things to replace this godless world. The cook rubbed his arms and left for the kitchen. “Peire,” the chef stopped at hearing his name and turned around to see the Provider's eyes filled with hatred, “If you ever talk to me like that again I will have you killed. I am I clear?”
Peire bowed but not like a believer or sheepishly. “Who will fix your meals and steal fresh food for you? Forgive me, Provider, of course, I am not worthy. The cook stood staring at the bishop with vacant dangerous eyes. The Provider pushed his hand out to be kissed but the cook simply looked at it for a long moment. When he didn’t act, the Provider returned his hand to pick up his plate, stood up, walked to his study pushing the plate of his half-eaten dinner into the chest of Peire almost knocking him over. As soon as the door closed to the Bishop’s cabin, Peire leaped to the floor and ate the cherry pie like a dog.
The spillway by the green space on the Matri-blend farm was a water diversion area that sat far below street level. The steep ravine channeled water and trees climbed up the sides creating coverage. The group could easily retreat into the tunnel if they were discovered. A large group of men in ragtag military uniforms gathered at the spillway opening enjoying the fresh air. The congregants and Braco-Yet along with his lieutenants gathered around the Provider. The Provider used the chance to inspect the soldiers and his army of believers. “Let us pray.” He bowed his head with his congregation. Braco-Yet shook his head and breathed out frustration as he watched the prayer service unfold around them. None of the soldiers with him or at the open end of the spillway bent their heads and they busied themselves with a task or looked around and at each other while sneering at the faithful. The men in the congregation prayed with a level of detached desperation, eyes closed tight, rocking, taking in each word uttered by the Provider. “Hear our payer god Ge-tov-grama. We will carry your sword to bring about the end of time for this world. Our salvation is acceptance to your kingdom of the ‘truth’.
Bishop Wegin-ouk’s opened his eyes. They were ablaze with hatred as he scanned the group. “You are God's instruments. We will set the world right under God's plan. There are many waiting for the faithful to act and they will join us in the fight. Everyone has seen the images of the end times and we are ready to be received by god. When the invaders come, God will turn them to his purpose and the last days as prophesied will occur on this planet. Rejoice. See the Sword of God,” he pointed at the dark tunnel as a horde of men approached. They were dirty, lifeless with arms crossed over their chests, with no weapons and vacant eyes. They looked up at the Bishop in unison and smiled faintly.
The mercenaries joked with each other or sneered at the Bishop, Braco-Yet gave his men a quick inspection and spoke what was on their minds. “When do my men get paid?” He stared at the Bishop expecting an answer and when the Bishop did not respond, he motioned to his people and they begin to move into the tunnel to leave.
The Bishop ‘Provider’ said quickly, “There are one hundred rifles delivered to the Artil Office Complex 7B storage locker in the industrial park ready for use. They are yours as the first payment of your services.”
Braco-Yet smiled. “We’ll check it out.”
All the true believers of Gods Sword walked to block the exit of Braco-Yet and his leaders from exiting. The Bishop spoke deadly in tone. “The work of the lord has no price of this world to command. You’re either in this fight for the love of god or you’re no better than those of the world.”
Braco-Yet smiled and looked back at the Bishop. “Tell your little pets here to stand down.”
The Bishop glared at him. “These are the Sword of God and they are better than any army you could have.
You are only tools and instruments of God.” He put his hands up as if blessing and the group parted allowing the mercenaries to exit.
The mercenaries snickered as they walked through the group. The Bishop shouted after them. “Get the job done. What I ask of you is god’s will, if you have faith like this flock you will be exalted in the highest heaven and honored above men. God through me will reward you with riches.”
“We have a deal. It’s not with your god,” Brock-Yet shouted back at the Bishop.
The Bishop felt his bag for something in his bag and pulled out some coins and thought, I have to return the ‘Sword” before nightfall, “Be-gant, brother, can you see to it that these men have a meal. I have to see an old enemy from another faith.”
Elder Be-gant stepped back from the order knowing that it was an impossible request, “as you wish my Bishop.”
Chapter Twenty-five
The contingent of soldiers guarding Hangar 52 settled into another long watch that began with a walk around to secure the perimeter. The Large facility was receiving refitted Flyers since Rik and Ra had been helping Doctors Karl and Megs retrofit them with new technology, weapons and navigation upgrades needed to prepare for the invasion. When these units were completed, they were flown to other hidden and secure hangars. The activity was highly noticeable and recorded on the common net as preparation updates. Inside the hangar building were a small team of Techs that were assigned a night shift duty to run programs, test uploads, and test new communication upgrades in each Flyer. Everyone else had gone home for the day.
Bishops Wegin-ouk and his soldiers waited for darkness. Braco-Yet and his lieutenants arrived late and he regarded the Bishop while not looking at him. “We have a deal.” Bishop Wegin-ouk said. “My work is done here. I will be at the compound praying.”
Braco-Yet flicked a cigarette butt to the ground near the bishop’s foot and shouldered his rifle. “You go do that. We can take it from here.” Wegin-ouk scurried away into the shadows.
The true believers moved as a group quickly toward the complex, using cover expertly to get as close as possible. They were heavily armed and as if one mind, the lambs knew what to do, they stood in open sight and walked toward the compound like three friends walking to school unaware of where they were going. One guard raised his weapon and shouted. “Stop, you can’t enter this area without a pass. Hands up in the air.”
All three stopped immediately with surprised expressions. They waved turned around to go back and then turned back around throwing hand grenades into the air. A hail of lasers covered the ground around them, cutting them down. Incoming lasers pounded the hangar guard post and penetrated to the wall behind them, sparks flew in the air and metal pinged as marines who were standing stumbled back crashing to the ground wounded or dead. Instantly explosions ripped through the marine cover sending shrapnel across the compound. When the marines begin to return fire, the true believers were already into the compound and racing to cover. A group of suicide bombers rushed the large door of the hangar as it was closing but they were covered by laser crossfire. The marines ducked into their cover as they were pounded with returning fire while massive explosions knocked them back and shook the hangar roof. Lasers passed over the heads of the marines who formed a line defending their position. One marine turned to fire his weapon at a believer who suddenly crossed the open area to flank them. They exchanged erratic and rapid laser fire. The Marine fell backward and slammed hard against the wall and then rolled over face-first to the ground. A large perfectly round hole on his back filled with blood and smoke. The true believer had no arm, a large hole in his chest and he raised his vacant eyes to the soldiers and smiled before they shot him dead.
One Guard slid down and leaped across an uncovered area to reach an alarm. Klaxon alarms rang out as the large hangar doors finally closed and locked. More suicide bombers raced toward the building with large satchels over their shoulder. Corporal Jheg-uti from Dask’s 4th infantry, ordered. “Raptoll, Harris, Jerub flank those bastards and take them out, hit them.”
The three marines raced down from their cover and crossed the compound, while lasers were hitting the ground around them. They slid face-first into shallow cover and positioned immediately then opened fire as the bombers ran up to the front of the hangar. All the bombers fell to the ground. Private Raptoll shouted. “Cover me, I am putting a dampener on those things.” The marines returned fire and Raptoll crawled fast closer to the dead bombers and pointed a red box with a laser at the satchels on the ground.
Harris shouted. “That’s good enough, get your ass back here.”
Just as the hangar doors sealed, three rockets cut through the air and struck the doors with a direct hit. The explosions chased the defenders out from their cover, but the smoke concealed their retreat as they ran for another cover. One rocket explosion blew out the inner door and sent shrapnel inside the hangar but the other two exploded on the outside of the reinforced door.
Tech Brgit-jec, inside the hangar, jumped off his bench and crawled under it. He waited for a long moment and then raced to a Raptor. “Help me get this one ready. I can fly it.” Techs raced to the second back door to secure it and others began to prep the Raptor. The engines on the machine roared in the confined space. The Raptor lifted into the air and wobbled as Tech Brgit-jec found his bearing on the controls.
Corporal Jheg-uti called on his COM, “Bravo Seven hangar 57 under direct fire. Repeat hangar 57 under attack with direct fire from locations facing the main North door.”
Inside the hangar, Tech Mariam Reguli saw flashes of light and instinctively rolled to cover as lasers drilled holes in the compromised door. Flashes of white light were followed by hot metal that chirred around her while sparks bounced on the floor. The Techs worked their way toward weapons storage. Tech Mariam crawled, using large toolboxes as cover, toward the side staff door facing the hillside of the building, “We need to secure this damn door,” she shouted. She scanned for another cover close to the door, there was none, she stood and raced to close the back entrance but skidded to a stop and pressed herself against the wall. The door was wide open. She listened, when the defending guards returned fire, she jumped and raced to the open entrance and closed it and secured it. A contingent of mercenaries was moving in the grass toward the door. Mariam, with her back to the door, shouted, “Load up, we have company.”
The marines outside the hangar had a track on the incoming fire inside and outside the compound and they returned rapid fire using tracers and laser cutters with fine-tuned munitions that adjusted to the direction of the assaulting fire. Without working disrupters, the attackers faced an onslaught of lasers that hit them in the face and shoulders killing and wounding them.
From his wrist unit, Staff Sergeant Triu-rea reported. “Dask we are taking fire and rockets; I have people down all over the place. Suicide bombers outside the hangar. Getting return fire from the tree line, Dean Park off Prince Street.”
“All hangars are on alert. We’re on it. On our way. Hold tight,” Dask said on COM.
Sergeant Triu-rea scanned behind his position and ordered. “Sandhez, round back, secure that staff door.” Before he could turn around a loud familiar roar came from the hangar and the back materials loading door opened quickly. The Sergeant looked up. “What the hell?” A Flyer wobbled in the air outside the hangar as the door closed behind it. The Ship rocked back and forth and then flew straight out over the city for a long-distance almost out of sight climbing into the sky.
Sandhez let his attached weapon dangle and raced out of cover crouching under as much cover as possible as he made his way behind the building. Lasers chirred and skipped around him while his team fired their automatic rifles to cover his run. Sandhez rounded the corner of the building as the mercenaries were making their way toward the hangar side door. Sandhez dropped, raised, and pointed his weapon. He tapped on his COM to all with its enhanced audio and whispered. “Sergeant, twelve or more heading up toward the backside, engag
ing.”
“Roger that.”
Sandhez waited for most of them to be exposed and their cover gone then opened fire. Instantly three rag tags tumbled backward never knowing what hit them and the rest dropped and returned fire that hit the wall behind Sandhez. He pushed himself on the ground and raised himself only to shoot short bursts then crawled rapidly to another point and repeated the fire pattern. The attackers were targeting two locations. The thudding sound of rapid laser rounds striking the metal hangar rang out in a constant tone. Attackers began to flank Sandhez realizing he was a lone shooter. Sandhez waited until those on his right flank grouped in their cover and threw a hand grenade at the location. The flanking soldiers shouted in surprise right before the explosion and then many were screaming in pain. Sandhez stood and rushed the area shooting at the surprised group. Those able to stand retreated and scattered to the lower part of the hill running away without firing a shot. Sandhez used his new position to fire back on the other flanking group.
The instant explosive force pushed Sandhez off his knees and spun him around to land hard on his chest as the back door of the hangar was blasted open. Sparks and shards of metal and hardened polymer littered the ground around him. He spoke on his wrist unit. “Sergeant, they’ve breached through the hangar’s back door.”
Sandhez blocked the suns in his eyes to see a Raptor fly overhead with its nose pointing downward and it adjusted itself and spun around the building to the compound as its wings moved up and down like a see-saw in the air. In a blinding flash, its rail guns turned the compound and locations where the attackers were hiding into a raising dust cloud. The lasers showered the area in wide swaths killing the attackers. The pilot seemed unable to turn off the automatic fire and the Flyer adjusted its angle to make a pathway of needless destruction of pavement, trees, and grass along Joint-er Street before stopping.
Sandhez saw the last of a few soldiers run through the door they breeched. Rapid-fire from within the hangar occurred as defenders caught the invaders unawares. The firefight lasted a few seconds. When Sandhez checked for others down the hillside he didn’t see any more attackers. He prepared to cautiously enter the building when Tech Mariam came on their COM, “All secure inside the hangar.”