Blades of Winter

by G T Almasi

  I buckle on my SoftArmor, stop worrying about prosthetics, and listen to the whop-whop of the helicopters coming to pick us up. “We’ll find her all right,” I whisper to myself, “and once we do, craniums won’t be the only freaking things I crush.”

  CHAPTER 6

  SAME DAY, 1:30 P.M. EST NEAR QUANTICO, VIRGINIA, USA

  The Tech Specialists have analyzed a bunch of stuff from the abduction site formerly known as my house. God only knows what they found. I leave that technical crap to the eggheads. Whatever it was, they worked even more frantically than normal because Cleo is one of our people, and nobody fucks with ExOps’ people.

  Our mission requires three helicopters: one gunship for air cover and two slicks to transport personnel. Each slick carries an eight-man Squad while the Mission Commander rides in the gunship. I get in Slick One with Cyrus, Patrick, and Alpha Squad.

  As soon as we’re aboard the helicopters, I have Alpha Squad’s Med-Tech clean out the cut on my cheek and apply a new bandage. Patrick makes sure my SoftArmor is properly secured, then I recheck my ammo and grenades. Good to go.

  While the choppers fly us to Quantico, Cyrus comms his boss to get me promoted from Level 4 to Level 6. He speaks out loud, so I can hear his end of the conversation.

  “Yes, Director Chanez, I said Scarlet. Yes, that Level, the Interceptor from yesterday’s mission in New York. No, sir, she survived it with only a light bullet wound. I know, sir, but the abductee, Cleopatra Nico, is her mother.” Cyrus listens for a moment. “Right, Cleo from Admin. Sir, I want Scarlet on this Smash ’n’ Grab, but her clearance is too low to lead one of the Squads.” Long pause. “Director Chanez, may I … Yes, sir … Yes, but sir …” He shuts his eyes. “Sir, with all due respect, if we don’t involve Scarlet in her own mother’s rescue, we’ll need a crew of Vindicators to keep her away from it.” Cyrus winks at me and continues. “Besides, sir, she fits the mission parameters perfectly, and there will be plenty of oversight.” Another pause. “Very good, sir. So I can file this promotion with your approval?” He listens for a long time. Trick, who has been eavesdropping, gives me a smile and two thumbs up. Finally Cyrus signs off with “Yes, sir, as you say. Thank you, sir.”

  So I’m a Level 6, and Cyrus sternly lectures me about ExOps process and procedure. Like I give a shit about that right now. For all I know, my mom has been tortured or raped or killed. Show me the bad guys and I’ll give them some process and procedure.

  The choppers hurtle in low and land outside a bucolic office park in Virginia, near the marine base at Quantico. We all jump out of the bird before it’s even on the ground. Cyrus and Trick run to the gunship and hop on as it lifts off again.

  It turns out that the Mission Commander is Raj. He’s the last person I want to take orders from, but he’s available, he’s got the right clearance, and I’ve heard he’s effective in the field. When I ask Cyrus why he doesn’t lead this op himself, he says he wants to assess Raj’s leadership skills.

  I’m about to tell my boss what I think of Raj’s leadership skills when Raj comms me from the gunship on my private frequency. “Scarlet, listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once. I don’t know how you sweet-talked the Front Desk into promoting you two Levels at once, but if you screw up my mission, I’ll have you demoted back down to Training.”

  Before I can spit out one of my patented smart-ass responses, he switches to the Job Number’s group frequency and broadcasts his orders to the teams. Raj directs me to assault the main entrance of the facility with Alpha Squad while Beta Squad surrounds the rest of the building. Rah-Rah will direct the operation from the heavily armed gunship helicopter.

  I bring Alpha Squad to the north side of the office park. The guys gather around me and check their gear while I finalize some comm protocols with Patrick. This Squad is all business, no chatter or grab-assing. Squad members are highly trained but nonenhanced soldiers equipped with on-helmet radios that send and receive on the same frequencies as my commphone. Some of them are rejects from Camp A-Go-Go, but anyone who makes it into Initial Training automatically qualifies for Squad duty. Despite the rejection, or maybe because of it, Squaddies tend to have genuine respect for those of us who graduate as Levels. When they’re good to go, they radio their Squad number to me, followed by “ready.”

  Once my guys finish checking in, I comm, “Raj, this is Scarlet. We’re prepped and ready to go.”

  He comms back, “Roger, Scarlet. Proceed to the main entrance and enter the building.”

  “Roger that.” I lead Alpha Squad up to the front door. There’s no point in subtlety. We arrived in fully loaded, nonstealthed helicopters. The baddies know we’re out here. My troopers lock and load their weapons, then assume a chevron formation behind me to cover our approach.

  I comm, “Solomon, this is Scarlet, acknowledge.”

  “Solomon ready.” This is Trick in the command helicopter.

  Raj comms for the green light from Cyrus. “Almighty, this is Raj. Permission to proceed with Job Number AB-789.”

  The comm-handle “Almighty” is reserved for the case officer who bears final responsibility for the job. Normally, the Front Desk doesn’t oversee missions directly, but Cyrus knows my mom personally, and he likes to stay connected to the fieldwork.

  Cyrus replies to the whole team, “Almighty to Raj, permission granted.” Then, only to me, “Give ’em hell, kiddo.”

  “Roger that, boss. Hell will be a step up for these motherfuckers.”

  I’ve had tons of training for this, but it’s my first large operation and my hands are shaking. I release more Kalmers into my bloodstream as I signal my demo guy to blow the north door. He hesitates and says, “Ma’am, we don’t even know if it’s locked.”

  I glower at him, jab a finger toward the door, and cry, “Boom!” He scurries up to the door and squishes a blob of C-4 into the doorjamb. Obviously, this guy doesn’t understand the psychological aspect of this kind of work. I want these kidnapping assholes totally freaked out so they make all kinds of mistakes.

  The demo guy gets the charge wired up, runs back to my position, kneels, and shouts, “Fire in the hole!” We duck our heads, the door blows up, and I charge into the smoke as chunks of door frame and wall land on the grass and front walkway. Alpha Squad crashes in behind me. Trick immediately feeds me directions.

  “Scarlet, stay to the right of the security area … Turn down this hall … Take the second door on the right and go up the stairs.”

  I open the door by blasting the doorknob with a giant slug from Li’l Bertha.

  The .50-caliber bullet rips a grapefruit-size hole through the door and carries away the entire latching mechanism. This is part of our standard assault procedure. It’s in case the doors can be remotely secured behind you. When you’re on offense, you don’t want anything locked.

  “Roger, Solomon.” I keep it short because I’m sure the baddies are monitoring our comm chatter. Under different circumstances I’d make all snuggly and stuff, but there’s not much point since the version of “snuggly” I’m bringing is the kind that results in broken bones and ruptured organs.

  We advance to the top of the stairs. I pause to make sure everybody is right behind me. I comm to Trick, “Solomon, advise.” Again I keep it short. He knows where we are.

  Trick comms back, “Vicinity clear, hard stop 200 left.”

  I blast the doorknob off and rip the door open. Trick has told me that the area behind the door is clear but that there will be some competition two hundred feet to my left. I use hand signals to direct Squads 7 and 8, my two most junior troopers: Hold here and cover our rear. Then I take Squads 1 through 6 to the left.

  “Solomon, do we have a fix on the subject?” I figure this is safe to comm since it’s such an obvious thing to ask.

  “Affirmative, quantum vector 18 down.” Patrick and his codes. His cue is “quantum vector,” which tells me the actual position is the opposite of whatever he says. Mom is eighteen feet up, so two stories.
This means we can fight heavy as long as we don’t demolish the whole structure. We pass a row of dark windows that look into a large, dimly lit conference room. I check Li’l Bertha’s sensors and see four targets around the corner. Trick is about to comm in, but I cut him off. It’s showtime.

  “Squads 1 through 6, follow me!” I bang a Madrenaline boost and dash around the corner like a 110-pound demon. Four paramilitary guys are taking cover behind a row of big filing cabinets down the hall. They try to draw a bead on me, but I’m too fast and too small. I zigzag around their shots, waving Li’l Bertha back and forth like a scythe. She lays off the flammable stuff since we don’t want to burn the whole facility down. Instead she pukes out a swarm of large-caliber slugs. Her .50-cals punch through the cabinets and leave gaping holes in the guys hiding behind them.

  Trick comms, “Scarlet, hold up!” I’ve already signaled Squads 5 and 6 to move forward and make sure it’s clear when the wall of the conference room disintegrates in a roar. Squads 5, 4, and 2 go down immediately. The rest of my Squad hits the deck while I switch to infrared and dive through the crumbling wall, toward the ambush. It’s two guys on a crew-served machine-gun. It illuminates the room like a strobe light and makes an incredible racket. Squads 3 and 6 take damage while I bounce a grenade off the ceiling and into the machine gunner’s nest.

  I put my head down, and the floor bucks under me. This is very close quarters. The grenade was only thirty feet away from me when it went off. Something lands next to me. It’s a lower leg, complete with boot. I check Li’l Bertha, but her sensors are dark. All clear. Squads 7 and 8 hustle around the corner, but I had them deployed too far away, and they’re too late to help.

  “Trick, how’d you miss those fucking guys?” I have to yell this over the frantic chatter of my wounded Squad mates. I run to see how badly they’re hit.

  “Alix, you’re going too fast! My scanners have trouble seeing the middle of the building. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

  Raj cuts in. “Solomon, keep the comm in protocol.” Oh, right. He’s using my real name.

  Trick gets back to business, “Scarlet, please report.”

  “All clear. Five nicks, three heavy and two light,” meaning three of my guys are badly wounded and two are just scratched up. Squads 5, 4, and 2 took most of the incoming fire. Their SoftArmor stopped the bullets that hit their torsos but not the ones that hit their arms and legs. Squads 3 and 6 had taken cover to return fire, so the only damage they took was from ricocheting bits of glass. The rest of us whip out field dressings and help the most severely wounded guys first. My hands begin to tremble again. I hold myself together with more Kalmers.

  Cyrus comms, “Raj, reinforce Alpha with yourself and Beta’s lower four.” Cyrus sends Raj to me with Beta Squad’s 5, 6, 7, and 8 guys. Squad members are numbered in order of seniority, with 1 the most senior and 8 the least. Cyrus and Patrick will cover the outside with the helicopters and Beta Squad’s four most experienced troopers.

  Alpha Squad’s Med-Tech tends to my injured men while I prowl back and forth watching out for competitors. Raj and Beta Squad’s 5 through 8 charge up the stairs. Raj gives me the hairy eyeball, then looks around to take in the situation. He reassigns the Beta guys as part of my Squad, then turns back to me.

  “Well, at least you’re in one piece,” he rumbles,

  “Yeah, terrific. You want to take point?” I reload Li’l Bertha while we talk so I don’t have to see his face tell me what he thinks of my assault skills.

  Raj answers, “No, you’re quicker in these tight spaces, but I’ll be right behind you.”

  I slam the ammo pack into my gun and look up at him. “To keep me from fucking up again? Look, why don’t you just—”

  Cyrus comms in, “Scarlet, cut the crap. Move out!”

  Fine. I comm to Trick, “Solomon, this is Scarlet, direction.”

  “Scarlet, proceed down the hall, past the conference room.” And then he adds, “Slowly!”

  Slowly. This sucks. My mom is held hostage only two floors away, and Trick has got me in Super Slo-Mo. We ease our way down the hall and across the second floor. I monitor Li’l Bertha’s sensors while Raj shoulders his Bitchgun—a savage and unruly beast of a weapon. The 50-mm grenades it fires are just this side of mortar rounds. Only Vindicators like Raj get Bitchguns. They’re too big for any other type of Level. The kick would probably tear my whole upper body off. It’s the most destructive personal firearm in the world. Rah-Rah must have done really well in his large firearms skill test. The fact that he’s cleared to deploy with this game-changing monster lets me see him in a whole new light.

  Patrick leads us to another set of stairs. I signal Squads 6 and 7 to wait here and cover our backs, then I take the rest forward.

  “Solomon, how’s the view?”

  “Like glass, Scarlet. Increase speed to the third floor. You’ve got a clear entrance, with some competition in the middle of the floor.” I run up the stairs, shoot open the door’s lock, and shove the door open. I peek around the corners to make sure it’s clear, and then I scamper through the doorway.

  Raj and I lead our guys up the passageway and around the corner to a point directly above where we got ambushed downstairs. I flash my Squad the hold signal so Patrick can thoroughly scan this area.

  “Scarlet, two hostiles in the interior space. Same as downstairs.” Another ambush. Gotcha, fuckos.

  Raj hand signals to me and the Squad: Take cover. Then he opens fire. His Bitchgun hammers the wall down in flaming six-foot chunks. Big Raj leans forward to counteract the gun’s monstrous kick. His feet skid back a few inches every time he fires, and everything in front of him turns into dust and smoke. It’s like watching Thor defend Valhalla.

  Beyond the roar of Raj’s gun, we hear a rapid series of snaps, crackles, and pops as our competitors’ ammo catches fire. Raj stops shooting, backs up to my position, and reloads from a big black canvas bag he has slung over his shoulder. We all hunker down while the dust settles. I switch to infrared and see a pile of stillwarm body parts off in the far corner of what used to be the third floor conference room.

  “Solomon, direction.”

  “Jesus, Scarlet, everybody all right?” We must have whited out Trick’s sensors.

  “Fully vertical, Solomon. Not a nick.”

  “Roger, Scarlet. Keep going. Next stairwell, straight 200.”

  We duck and cover our way down the demolished hallway. Raj and I are up front while the Squad scans the flanks and rear, watching for surprises. Things are going much better now that we’ve slowed down a bit. I’m about to comment to Raj on this fact when I remember that we got pounced on downstairs because I was being a cherry dumbass. All this thinking cramps my concentration, so I rip the fifty-fifty mix of Madrenaline and Kalmers I’ve nicknamed the Scarlet Speedball.

  It’s hard to balance the uppers and downers. The Madrenaline makes me fast, but if I overdo it, my hands shake like the hips on a belly dancer. The Kalmers help me chill, although in excess they make me dizzy. In the correct proportion they allow me to function at a superhuman level, but the combination makes my head hurt, especially my teeth. That’s where the Overkaine comes in.

  We approach the door to the stairway on the far side of the floor. “Solomon, direction.”

  “Stand by, Scarlet, very blurry.” We stand by, then we hear some noise in the stairway. The door bursts open. It’s three of the paramilitary guys! They’re as surprised as I am, but they aren’t hopped up on synthetic adrenaline, so it’s game over for them. I punch the first one in the throat, shoot the second guy in the face, then spin around and kick the third sucker so hard that he flies backward and cracks his skull on the wall. They all hit the ground at the same time while the Squaddies rush by me and pound the shit out of them. ExOps Squad troops are serious about protecting their Levels.

  My guys are still giving the baddies a giant tune-up when Trick comms, “Scarlet, retain some of those assets for interrogation.”
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  Oh, right, we’re supposed to harvest some intel. But by the time I call off my Squad, it’s too late. It might have been too late anyway. Those were some masterful Bruce Lee–style hits I laid out.

  “Uhh, roger that, Solomon.” I’ll break it to Trick later. I look at Raj, who has a funny expression on his face. His eyes are scowling, but the corners of his mouth are twitching like he’s trying not to laugh. Maybe he likes kung fu movies, too. I point up the stairs and say to Raj, “Shall we?”

  Raj shakes his head and grins despite himself. He says, “We shall.”

  We creep into the stairwell, then we hear some muted explosions and a long exchange of small-arms fire from outside.

  “Solomon, this is Beta 1. Be advised, multiple hostiles exiting from the south side.” The sound of gunfire crackles through Beta 1’s radio microphone. Some of the rats are trying to jump ship.

  Patrick is ready. “Beta, this is Solomon. Suppress hostiles and stand by for support.” More noise from outside as our helicopters pitch in. We don’t always bring a gunship with us, so this may have caught the kidnappers off guard.

  I climb up the stairs slowly because Trick is busy coordinating the activity outside. At least I thought he was.

  “Scarlet, this is Solomon. You look clear to the top floor.”

  “Roger.” I launch myself up the stairs with Raj and Alpha Squad right on my six. Rapid movement now counts for more than worrying about our comms being monitored. When we reach the door, I hang back and let Raj bash the lock out with the butt of his Bitchgun.

  “Solomon, this is Scarlet, direction.”

  “Wait one, Scarlet.” The noise level outside dies down for a second, and then there’s a huge explosion that bounces us around like the BB in a can of spray paint. Patrick must have been evacuating a couple of our people from the blast zone. He’s right back with us after the floor stops dancing around under us.