Generation X - Genogoths

by Unknown Author

  Angelo shook his head. “All these people, humans, out to protect mutants. I should be getting all Hallmark-warm-and-fuzzy-chick-flick-weepy. Instead, it just makes my skin crawl, and that’s saying a lot in my case.”

  “Don’t be so quick to judge,” said Jono. “They mean well, even if we don’t agree with everything they stand for. Look at ’em. These blokes look ready to lay it all on the line for our buds.”

  “They are,” said Espeth. “They’re ready to die for the cause if need be.”

  “Let’s hope that won’t be necessary,” said Paige. s‘I’d hate to be beholdein.”

  Near the center of the compound they came upon Leather’s confiscated van, now being used as a command post, and parked next to it, the Volkswagen van that had led the rescue charge at Little Latveria. Unlike most of the other Genogoths, its driver still wore his traditional garb. He sat at a folding table, staring through a magnifier at some tiny electronic device. He looked up as they approached and nodded.

  “Guys,” said Espeth, “this is Styx. He’s cool.”

  “Cool,” said Styx, “definitely cool. It’s a groove since we didn’t get introduced.”

  Joho reached out and gave him a shake. “Thanks for coming to the rescue, yesterday. It was turning ugly.”

  “My pleasure,” he said. He glanced over at Ev, who reached out to touch the support post in the middle of the bus’s windshield.

  Ev grinned at him. “Phat Type 2, split-window, dude.” He glanced around at the little row of oblong portholes high on the sides. “Twenty-one windows. Definitely phat.”

  “Ah,” said Styx, “a connoisseur. Another day, I’d give you a walk-around and show you what’s under the deck. No time right now though. Bummer. Glad you guys came by though. Saves me looking for you.” He picked up something about the size and shape of an aspirin pill, made of flesh-colored plastic. “Need to give each one of you guys one of these.”

  Jubilee bent closer to examine it, puzzled.

  “You put it in your ear,” he demonstrated. “It’s a radical little radio-com I designed. Wear it, and you’re plugged-in, tuned-in, tumed-on, and freaked out.” He handed each of them one. “Espeth will show you how to use them,” he said. “Then it’s official. Welcome to the Genogoth army!”

  Sharpe lowered the VR glasses for a check, They lacked good intelligence on the interior of the Pacific University M.O.N.S.T.E.R. house, so the entire simulation was set outside. Still, it seemed effective enough. Mutants, dozens of them, scrambled around in terror as the three armored figures and their pack of cyberhounds circled, containing them like a flock of sheep.

  One by one they were taken down, lassoed or netted by the new capture-weapons in the Hounds’ gauntlets. Immobilized, tagged, and put aside for pick-up. It was a model of efficiency, and it was going off without a hitch.

  “Bloodhound,” Sharpe said into his headset mike, “torch the building.”

  The Hound in red broke from the format and marched closer to the front of the house. He held up his right arm, and there was a whir and a click as the small rotary grenade , launcher on his wrist locked in an incendiary round. He aimed at a big window to the right of the front door. There was a muffled whoof the clattering of shattered glass, and then an explosion of flames behind the curtains. Bloodhound turned back to the job of rounding up mutants. As the flames spread, rapidly enveloping the building, he never looked back.

  Sharpe removed the glasses and set them on the console. He’d seen enough. He looked over at Happersen and grinned. “Life is good.”

  Generation X had changed into their fighting togs before accompanying Espeth on the scouting mission. She had scowled her disapproval when she’d first seen them. “I really should scare you up something black,” she said. “The dark red tights are okay, but all that yellow sticks out in the moonlight like a beacon.”

  Angelo had dismissed her concerns. “Get over it, chica. You said yourself, Black doesn’t want us going anywhere near the place, just close enough to take a look.”

  They all piled into a borrowed black (of course) Humvee and headed into the low, tree-covered, mountains. Their destination was not the base, but a nearby peak where they could get a look at it, and where other Genogoth patrols were already searching for a place to install a command post.

  They waited for moonrise, then used its light, with some help from a night-vision scope, to make it up logging roads to the top. It was something of a disappointment. “It just looks like another mountain,” Angelo muttered. “I wouldn’t know there was anything there, if you hadn’t told me.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “This isn’t some wacko scheme to get us out of the way while Black hits the real base, is it?”

  Espeth frowned. “Angelo, no! Here.” She handed him the night-vision binoculars. She pointed him down the slope. “See that? That’s the only direct access road. It winds up to a fortified tunnel entrance about five hundred feet below the summit. You can just see the top of the portal, that big concrete thing. The entrance road will be monitored, so no way in there. We’ll take logging roads in from other directions, then come in overland on foot.”

  Angelo lowered the binoculars. “Where’s the rest of it?” “Underground, mostly, dug into the rock. There are some air shafts scattered around the upper slopes, what look like defensive installations of some kind, and a big camouflaged door that may be where they keep their helicopters and maybe other aircraft. We’re hoping there are some weak spots up there that we can exploit.”

  Angelo looked at her, incredulously. “Hope? You don’t know how you’re going to get in?”

  Espeth looked doubtful. “I know it looks like a hard egg,” she said, “but tomorrow night we have to find a way to crack it.”

  The first movements of the attack started before dawn, as one by one the vehicles began to pack up and roll out of the staging area and move to forward positions closer to the Hound base. The movements would be spread out through the day, and the vehicles would take different routes, so as to avoid attracting the attention that a convoy would.

  The Xabago left about noon. They might have departed earlier, except that Jono had trouble getting it started, and several hours of tinkering and cursing under the hood were necessary to get it operational.

  ' * Jono listened sadly to the motor once they finally got it cranked. “I tell you, this banger has about had it. It’s gone all duff on us.”

  “Translation,” cracked Angelo, “we’ll be lucky to make it to Smash Mountain, much less back here, much less back to the school.”

  “Well,” said Paige, “if it breaks down there, at least it’ll make it harder for Black to get rid of us.”

  Jubilee grinned. “We could always have Monet push us home.”

  Monet looked at her askance. “If any biological spare parts could be of use, Fd be glad to donate Jubilee’s.”

  Angelo shook his head sadly. “It’s past that. I hope Leather-guy left his gun. We may have to shoot this thing.”

  Namik leaned forward on her desk and turned one of her desk screens around to show Sharpe. It was a complex line graph, the meaning of which wasn’t obvious to “Him.” “The submarine metaphors you used earlier,” she explained, “are entirely appropriate. The automated detection network installed in the woods around the mountain is quite good, but I’ve never been

  one to leave well-enough alone, and God knows there isn’t much else to do here. I’ve done some reading about submarines and passive sonar, and it gave me an idea. A few months ago, I had directional microphones installed on some of our exterior fixtures directed into the lowlands at the base of the mountain. It was cheap, didn’t involve putting hardware outside the inner perimeter, and I could bootleg capacity on some of the research computers to automate the monitoring.”

  “You’re saying,” said Sharpe, “that you can hear someone out there?”

  She shook her head. “Not exactly. I’m fairly certain that we have people moving around down there on foot. There have to be
vehicles out there somewhere, but they’re keeping them at a distance. So far, we haven’t definitively heard anyone.”

  Sharpe frowned, “But you said—”

  “Let me explain. After a few weeks of recording data on the mikes, I was able to develop certain patterns in the natural sounds. When disturbed, some animals flee, make loud sounds, or both. Others become very quiet and try to hide. The passage of a human through the forest, even one moving very quietly, leaves a ‘fingerprint’ in the natural sounds.” She tapped a fingernail on the screen displaying the graph. “I was able to verify this by monitoring the movement of our own patrols and technicians, as well as the occasional hiker or hunter who strayed into our area.” She pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “There is a sizable force, on foot, surrounding the Foxhole. I think we can safely assume they’re hostile. If I could send out a helicopter or an ATV patrol, I could verify it.”

  A complex wave of emotion crossed Sharpe’s face. He seemed almost pleased. “They’ve come,” he said. “I knew they would. They always come. Last time they caught me unawares, unprepared. Thanks to your excellent work, Namik, that won’t happen this time. Last time it cost me, dearly.” The comers of his mouth curled up into a slow smile. “But this time I’m ready. This time, they’ll pay.” He looked back at her. “No, my orders stand. We don’t provoke them, we don’t show our hand. Nothing short of an armored assault could dig us out of these tunnels. Let them come, and once they’re here, this whole mountain will blow up in their faces.”

  Sharpe turned and marched off down the hall.

  Namik returned her screen to its regular position. She would continue to follow Sharpe’s orders, running drills on the security personnel, verifying that all the automatic defenses were in full readiness, and waiting for the attack that now seemed inevitable.

  But she would also have another agenda, one that served other masters, the men and women who had assigned Sharpe and the survivors of Project Homegrown to this isolated outpost. Sharpe’s mental stability had been in question for some time. Namik had been sent here as insurance, a plant to collect what data could be salvaged if the worst happened, and most importantly, to maintain full deniability. If necessary, Sharpe’s Hounds, this installation, and everyone in it, would be destroyed, and every trace of official sanction erased. Sharpe would be yet another madman in a hidden lair, working toward some ill-defined diabolical goals. Nobody would suspect a rogue government agency. It had happened often enough before.

  The mechanisms were already in place, as fundamental to the construction of Foxhole as the air-conditioning or the plumbing. Namik had only to set them in motion.

  Perhaps soon.

  As the Xabago approached the area of the hidden installation, the radio earpieces they wore came to life. Espeth told them that the units were low power, short range, scrambled, and operated on frequencies adjacent to those used by common consumer-electronic devices. Even if someone did pick up the signals, they’d probably be mistaken for the garbled transmissions from someone’s malfunctioning cordless phone.

  The Genogoths were nothing if not organized. A dispatcher routed them to a roadside parking area just off the main highway and offered to send a vehicle to shuttle them into the forward staging area. They declined, and asked for directions to Black’s command post. Then, in three trips, Monet and Ev ferried them in by air.

  The command post was set up in a rocky notch facing out on the installation. Rope handrails, and camouflage netting had been placed over the exposed end of the notch during the night, providing a natural, and invisible, location to look directly down on the site. Lookouts with binoculars and spotter scopes were already stationed there.

  Ten yards or so back from this was the command center, a cluster of folding tables and free-standing equipment. Styx, Smokey Ashe, and several other Genogoths they didn’t recognize, were operating communications equipment, consulting computers, or checking maps.

  Black was there, leaning over a table on which he had

  - spread a large topological map of the area. Jono, Espeth, and Paige went over to talk with him.

  “I wish these maps were trustworthy,” he said to himself as much as them. “This has been a top-secret installation since at least the mid-60s, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the U.S. Geological Survey maps have been doctored. Most of the available satellite photos conveniently have gaps in this area. We don’t even know how much of the terrain we see out there is natural. It looks pristine from a distance, but—”

  “So,” interrupted Jono, “what would you like us to do? Monet and Ev could fly down to scout for you, or maybe even get high enough to shoot some aerial photos for you.”

  Black looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What I’d like for you to do is stay here while my people make the assault on this Tloundbase.’ After the situation is contained, perhaps we can bring you in to help mop things up.”

  Paige’s mouth fell open. “What? You said we’d be part of your operation.”

  “You are. You and your friends are part of the reserve force. But I’m not about to put mutants in jeopardy on the front lines of such a potentially dangerous operation.”

  “Bloody hell!” Jono glared at him. “We told you, Black, that we aren’t your bleeding livestock to push around.”

  “Young man,” he said, careful to keep his voice level. “This is a large and carefully coordinated operation. Even if you were not mutants, I wouldn’t trust its success to a handful of untrained children.”

  That was too much for Jono, who lunged forward. Only Paige’s intervention prevented a more personal confrontation. She stood in front of him, holding his shoulders, and gently pushed him back. “Listen, Jono, maybe he’s right. Not about us, but about what we should be doing here. We don’t know these guys, and they don’t know us. We’d just end up getting in each other’s way.”

  His brow wrinkled as he considered her words, but he didn’t say anything.

  “In any case,” she continued, “if they don’t want us there, then the worst thing we can do for our friends is to bull our way into the operation,”

  “Espeth,” Black said. “Your situation is different on several counts, and it would seem that you have some need to redeem yourself among the Genogoths.” He pointed at the map. “We could use you in the first wave up the near flank.”

  She grinned and nodded. “I’m so there.” Then she turned to Jono, her expression apologetic. “Sorry, Jono, I know you and your ‘mates’ would like to be there too. But I’m doing this for our friends. I’ll be fighting for all of you.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “whatever.”

  After Espeth departed for the front lines, the Generation Xers gathered on a rock outcropping overlooking the command area. The overall mood had the character of a wake.

  “I am so bummed out,” said Jubilee. “I don’t like missing out on the fun.”

  “Doesn’t look like fun,” said Jono, who perched on a rock facing away from the others, his knees drawn up in front of him. “It looks like war to me. These blokes look good, but they still aren’t carrying guns. I’ve got a bad feeling about it.”

  Paige looked at him. “But—?”

  “But, I’d rather be down there too. And I’m worried about Espeth. She’s like on to try n’ prove something, do something bloody stupid. Black is like, ‘hey, we need some cannon-fodder,’ and she’s right at the front of the queue with her hand up.”

  Paige’s face was a mask, and she became very quiet.

  “Hey, Jono, don’t sweat it,” said Jubilee. “She’s a survivor. I mean, none of us have killed her yet, and what are the odds of that?”

  “Yeah.” Angelo laughed. “Nobody survives the ‘wrath of Monet.’ ”

  Monet sat off to one side, inspecting her nails. “I like her. She’s interesting. It’s the rest of you that bore me to tears. I would like to break something right now though. That, or go back to the hotel. I never did get to try the Jacuzzi-tub.”

  “Uh-hu
h,” said Angelo dryly. “Thanks for sharing.”

  Styx and Smokey Ashe wandered over. Smokey tipped his hat to the girls. “Hear tell that Black told you young’uns to hold back with the reserves. Just came to express my sympathies.”

  “What’s it to you?” Jubilee snapped.

  “Black’s made me the new field commander for this little rodeo. Puts me a little closer to the action than you when the excitement starts, but me, I’d just as soon be the first one up the hill. Heard you got some friends in there. Well, I got me one too. Feller name of Catfish. Hope you can meet him when this is all over.”

  Jubilee’s mouth contracted to a tight pucker, and she stared seriously down at her feet. “Didn’t know,” she said.

  “I know it’s hard for you young’uns, that you’re riled at Black, but it’d be a great favor to me, my buddy Catfish, and to your three friends, if you’d do what he says and stay here. I’d feel a right bit better knowing you were watching our backs when we go up that hill.”

  They all reluctantly agreed.

  Smokey tipped his hat again. “I got to get down with the troops. Sun will be down soon, and we hit ’em when the moon comes up.”

  He turned and left. Styx grinned, as though he’d suddenly materialized on the spot. “Listen,” he said, “I get the feeling that, sooner or later, you dudes are going to be going down there. I want you to be on the lookout for any of this stuff.” He pulled out a handful of six-inch sections of cable, in various sizes and colors and fanned them out for inspection. “You see any, call me in a hurry.”

  Ev inspected it closely. “What is it? Are we going to steal their cable TV?” '' “

  Styx grinned. “Close. This is—*’

  “Optical fiber,” said Monet, before he could finish. “Low-loss, full-spectrum, ultra-wide data-bandwidth, mil-spec/ S.H.LE.L.D.-spec.” Everyone looked at her and she shrugged. “Sometimes I read Aviation Week at the library. It’s more interesting than Vibe.”