Message for the Dead

by Jason Anspach

  Someone in the room gave a whoop, causing a breakout of laughter. The team leaders slapped hands and pumped fists, ready for a fight.

  Chhun allowed the speculative buzz to build back up in whispered discussions as he brought up a holographic image of the planet Gallobren. The room quieted as he started the mission briefing.

  “Gallobren is a core world. A bit beyond our usual milk route, but one Admiral Deynolds and I believe deserves a visit for two important reasons, its white sandy beaches not being one of them.”

  The holographic representation of the planet shrank into the background, and a headshot of a raven-haired woman, dressed in a stylish business suit, came into view. “The political junkies among you will recognize this woman as House of Reason Delegate Nimh Arushi. Gallobren is her home planet, and we have information that she is there right now. Article Nineteen mandates the arrest of all House of Reason members who do not peacefully step down. She didn’t, and now we’re coming for her.”

  The men in the room nodded in agreement. “That’s too small a job to necessitate the use of all of you. But it turns out there’s something else going down on Gallobren, under Arushi’s watch.”

  Chhun caused the holographic image of Delegate Arushi to fade, and the point of view zoomed toward the planet. It drilled down through cloud cover to reveal brilliant blue seas, white beaches, lush green vegetation, and a core-world city. The hologram panned to an industrial area several kilometers east of the city’s heart. Away from the clean tourist traps was a two-acre compound with three flat-roofed warehouses. There was nothing notable about the location. It blended in with the rest of the industrial area perfectly.

  “This compound sits at the top of a hill. From here, you can follow a road straight through the downtown area to the beach. But as you can see, unlike virtually every other building or warehouse in this area, this one is fenced off. Completely.”

  Images appeared on the display showing a military-grade fence and an armed security gate.

  “Dark Ops maintains various public-intel databases and dirt-forums where anonymous users can report any gossip they think is juicy enough—and then speculate, debate, and otherwise waste their lives. As you can imagine, there’s a lot of garbage to sift through—sightings of Tyrus Rechs, suspected underground cabals seeking to subject various planets to zhee rule… the usual conspiracy stuff. But mixed in with that was a post speculating that this warehouse is being used to store war refugees. The speculation is based on one cargo driver’s account of delivering trailer loads full of food and other supplies to this location.”

  Chhun had the team’s full attention. They were professionals, so that was no surprise. But what came next might be. “Men, I believe this complex is not for refugees. I believe it is a black site penitentiary containing those Dark Ops leejes captured during the failed Article Nineteen raids.”

  Chairs shifted as the team leaders straightened themselves, their focus intense. Still, none of them spoke.

  “You all know about what went on at Herbeer. And you know the House of Reason types, they just double down, so the existence of another facility like this is certainly plausible. I’m not at a place where I can say with absolute certainty that we’ll find anything on Gallobren other than Delegate Arushi, but I do think we need to have a look. We owe that much to any POWs hoping they haven’t been forgotten.”

  Chhun let a silence fall upon the room, trusting that the weight of what he’d said would galvanize the team for what was in store.

  “We’ve got one shot to capture the delegate and liberate the prison camp. That means we’ll be deploying all of your teams to work simultaneously. Intrepid will arrive when needed to deploy First Battalion from the Twenty-FIfth. It will be up to you to tell me when First Battalion needs to join the fight.

  “My initial concept is that Kill Team Outlaw will go after Arushi, Kill Team Warbird will stay on Intrepid to serve as a quick-reaction team—sorry, guys—and the remaining three teams will work together on taking the compound. This op needs to happen within the next forty-eight hours. According to Admiral Deynolds, we can be in position in as little as eight hours.”

  Chhun held his hip and leaned forward slightly. “Questions?”

  A hand went up from the leader of Kill Team Riot, Sergeant Lucas Eastridge. “Sir, I was always taught when planning ops like this under a new leadership structure to ask one question: If things go wrong, how many people are you willing to kill to get us out?”

  Chhun nodded. “The entire city if that’s what it takes. Any other questions?”

  The room was silent.

  “Okay. Round up your teams and get to work. I’ll check back in a couple hours to see where we are. First Sergeant will reach me if you need me prior to that.”

  ***

  Modified Civilian Freighter Lone Trout

  Gallobren Atmosphere

  Chhun sat in the cargo hold with the Dark Ops legionnaires of four kill teams. The courier was too small to contain a secret smuggler’s hold—so any customs inspector opening this ship would find himself face to face with lethal angels of death armed with enough weapons and explosives to capture a super-destroyer.

  The freighter was pulled from a special hangar on Intrepid, where it had been kept on hand with other special-use vehicles that might be needed for covert missions. It was cramped—it was designed to transport only a single kill team, not four—but otherwise doing its job. They had entered Gallobren’s atmosphere without any trouble, and their pre-authorized flight path took them over the ocean—part of the local government’s regulations to keep the skies over the city itself peaceful.

  All the better for the kill teams.

  “What’s the word?” asked Lieutenant Stockley, Kill Team Viking.

  Chhun had just returned from the cockpit, where navy pilots were dressed in civilian uniforms. The plan was to seed the ocean with legionnaires through a drop-door cut out of the cargo bay’s deck.

  “Perfect night for this,” Chhun replied. “Good cloud cover, nice and dark. Featherheads are slowly veering closer to the coast. Drop shouldn’t be long.”

  “Let’s get buckets on,” Bear said, his booming voice cutting through the pockets of private conversation throughout the cargo hold.

  The legionnaires dutifully put on their helmets and re-checked their kits, Chhun being no exception. As his HUD booted up, a special menu appeared, making maps, timelines, and pre-designated comm channels all easily accessible. Everything he’d need to lead the operation from the field until he arrived at a waiting command office in the marina of Gallobren’s largest city, Li Tio. A chronometer counted down the planned arrival time of Intrepid, still hours away.

  The freighter banked, causing the legionnaires to hang on to the straps that secured them to the deck. A text-ping popped up on Chhun’s visor. The overhead lights shifted from a soft day-glow to red.

  “Two-minute warning,” Chhun announced.

  At once the legionnaires lined up as best they could in the tight confines, standing at the base of the sealed drop-bay doors.

  Chhun scanned a diagnostic report that showed all of his team’s equipment reporting as functional. He had them double-check anyway. “Verify that your suits are sealed and that your personal bubblers have power.”

  The legionnaires verified that everything was as it should be, and conveyed so with a thumbs-up.

  “Thirty seconds,” Chhun said.

  The pilot’s voice came over the comm. “We are flying low and slow along the coastline. About two miles from the shore. Engaging drop-bay.”

  The door slid open, increasing the noise in the cargo hold as streams of air whipped inside.

  “You get five seconds to activate your bubble shield,” Bear reminded the men. “Try not to hit the water without it. It ain’t fun.”

  From his place next to the open drop-bay door, Chhun could see the rippling water streaking by below. The ocean was the color of tyrannasquid ink. He looked over the snaking queue of
soldiers, all ready to make the jump. “Let’s get wet!”

  One by one the Dark Ops leejes dropped into the hole, feet first, arms pressed against their sides. They tucked into a ball upon exiting the freighter, this motion causing their semi-transparent blue bubble shields to encircle them.

  The energy packs for the shields had to be light enough and small enough to find room among the bristling array of equipment and weapons, which meant the shields they produced were only strong enough to withstand the impact on the surface of the water. They would dissolve once the legionnaires submerged.

  The legionnaires exited the ship until Chhun was the only one remaining. “Trouble?” he asked the pilots. When they reported that all looked good, he jumped out of the hold as well, activating his own shield as he fell. He felt like a fish inside a dry bowl, waiting to get wet.

  The black sea enveloped Chhun’s shield as though he were a stone thrown from a cliff top. The thin wall of energy separating the legionnaire from the ocean seemed too thin, and then it collapsed, and a rush of water filled the void, completely submerging him.

  Sensor readings on his visor told him that without the protection of his suit, hypothermia would set in after fifty minutes of exposure. But Chhun felt no discomfort. His armor was fully sealed and insulated against the elements. He did a quick check to make sure the shatterproof container holding his blaster rifle and other gear was still attached, and not floating to the surface. All was as it should be.

  He released the mechanical shield generator from his webbing, and by the light of his ultrabeam—tinted green—he watched it sink down into the darkness towards the ocean floor. Retractable flippers swung down from their place behind his armored calves and fitted themselves to his feet.

  Chhun began to swim toward the predetermined gathering point in order to link up with the other legionnaires. Someone had arrived already, and had activated a pulsing infrared buoy to help guide the others. Chhun moved silently toward the light, no bubble rising to betray his presence beneath the waves. All the legionnaires were breathing pure oxygen, their rebreathers pairing with carbon scrubbers that took in sea water, separated the oxygen, and then dumped the carbon back out in gentle streams. It was like a mechanical set of gills. They could all stay underwater almost indefinitely—though this mission called for them to swim for land considerably sooner than that.

  When the men had gathered, Chhun requested status updates of his team leaders over a dedicated L-comm band. The men were ready, accounting for their teams and reporting no injuries or loss of equipment.

  Nice and smooth.

  “Nice work, Leejes,” Chhun said. “Continue on to your destinations. Lieutenant Stockley, I want you to feed me updates on Task Force Granite’s progress.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The three kill teams comprising Task Force Granite—Viking, Lethal, and Riot—swam for a vacant stretch of beach while Chhun and Kill Team Outlaw began to kick toward the opulent downtown marina.

  They swam the first mile or so in silence before Masters spoke up. “You know what I wonder about? What’s the point of that glorious warehouse full of equipment back on Intrepid if we never get to use it? You guys do know there were SWIM-sleds, right? At least enough for us.”

  “Gallobren’s a core world,” Bear answered. “They’ll detect something like that. But they won’t pick up just a few more animals pushing through the water. Suck it up.”

  “Yes, sir,” Masters replied, sounding utterly defeated. “If anyone sees a shark, just point them in my direction. Bear hates me, guys.”

  Chhun smiled, and wondered what the rest of Outlaw thought of Masters. “If the hard way makes success more likely, I’m all for it,” he said.

  “You would say that, sir.”

  They swam for another five minutes before Lieutenant Stockley reported in. “Granite One to Big Fish. Sir, we’re in the surf and preparing to move onto the shore.”

  “Copy. Advise upon reaching the drainage system.”

  “Roger. Granite out.”

  The plan called for Task Force Granite to move under darkness across the white, sandy dunes to a massive rainwater runoff that ran underneath the city. If they’d had more time, they would have planned the mission to coincide with a lunar cycle that would have caused the tide to rise enough for them to access the runoff from underwater. As it stood, Granite would have to move approximately one hundred meters across the beach. Thankfully, the stretch near the runoff didn’t have any resorts looking out onto it, and if anyone was out there in the dark, they’d likely give away their position by a campfire, and so would be easy to avoid.

  If all went according to plan, the task force would be well on their way inside the city by the time Chhun reached his destination—a small yacht retrofitted by on-planet agents to serve as a mobile command room. He just had to hurry up and reach the upscale marina. From there he could monitors Granite’s progress, fully coordinate with Intrepid, and watch Outlaw’s progress in grabbing the delegate. It would be a busy night.

  “Sir,” Stockley called in again. “Slight problem.”

  “What’s up?” asked Chhun.

  “Beach is empty except for a couple of kids. They’re making friendly behind a sand dune right in our way, if you catch my drift.”

  Chhun found himself shaking his head. Wasn’t this always the way? Miles of coastline and this was where two people decided to thrown down their blanket. Right now. “No sneaking by them?”

  “With this many of us?” asked Stockley rhetorically. “Not without significant risk of discovery. One quick comm call and we’re dusted, mission scrubbed. We can go back in the drink and swim around to another landing point. It’ll take time, though.”

  Time wasn’t something Chhun had in great supply. Everything was scheduled tightly and needed to come off at once if at all possible. Outlaw had to clear and prepare for remote destruction of Delegate Arushi’s luxury yacht—assuming she wasn’t on board; intel had her staying at a hotel overlooking the marina—to prevent any chance of her leaving the planet. Granite had to hit the POW camp at the same time. And then, with the planetary militia and police trying to decide what to do next, Intrepid would drop its legionnaires and marines to set up blocking positions, making sure that the prisoners got out before everyone else went home.

  “No delays,” Chhun said, second-guessing himself even as he gave the order. Should he have opted for a less aggressive plan of action and built in greater allowance for time delay? He had agreed with his team leaders’ plan to do it fast, smooth, and right the first time, and he believed in his kill teams’ ability to execute the mission. But… didn’t things always go sideways? At least a little.

  It didn’t matter now. “Send in one of your less lethal guys. Sucks for the kids. Wrong place, wrong time.”

  “Copy that.”

  With the operation taking place in a predominately civilian and law-abiding planet, Chhun had made sure that each kill team had at least one legionnaire equipped with less-than-lethal weaponry. He was glad he’d done so, because this was precisely the type of situation that called for it. The two lovebirds didn’t deserve to die, but they needed to be neutralized. Most leejes picked for the duty packed an extra stinger pistol or neuro-blaster. Weapons that selectively paralyzed the nervous system and put the target to sleep.

  “Okay, they fell asleep earlier than they expected,” Stockley reported. “En route to the runoff.”

  “Copy.”

  Kill Team Outlaw soon reached the harbor of the marina, swimming deep beneath docks and the keels of assorted luxury yachts.

  Chhun spotted a flashing IR strobe on a small boat above them. That marked it as the one that had been arranged for Chhun to use as an operational headquarters. “Looks like this is where I get off.”

  “Copy that,” said Bear. “We still got ourselves a bit of a swim. Delegate Arushi’s yacht is up in the north end of the marina with all the really rich folks.”

  “Which makes sense,” Ma
sters chimed in. “Once you get that money, why would you want to hang out with all the riffraff? No offense, Captain.”

  Chhun swam up to his target ship’s hull, glad that the seemingly endless strokes of his fins were finally drawing to a close. “I’ll take it as a compliment, Masters. KTF.”

  As the kill team swam on, Chhun moved slowly out from beneath the dark shadow cast by the boat. The marina was adequately lit, and Chhun could see the light diffusing from the water’s surface. He had wanted the makeshift headquarters to be equipped with an access hatch underneath, so he wouldn’t have to expose himself by re-emerging, but no one on-planet could find a suitably skilled or discreet contractor to make it happen in the time allotted.

  Chhun practiced the controlled surfacing he’d learned in his Dark Ops dive and underwater demolition training. He angled his head and allowed it to slowly emerge from the water, not making a sound, hardly disrupting the surface tension. More of Chhun slowly followed. His visor came up above the waterline. The bucket’s HUD showed no sign of activity. No hostiles.

  Reaching behind himself, Chhun found the bottom rung of a ladder that went up to the boat’s deck next to a small diving board. A little something for the wealthy folks a vessel like this was marketed for. He slipped on board.

  The deck was empty, as was the flybridge. He proceeded to clear the rest of the boat, finding nothing. When he reached the captain’s quarters, he entered a passkey and quietly swung open a reinforced manual door.

  The room was everything it needed to be. It bristled with technological listening and communication equipment, with walls thick enough to fend off any blaster fire from the outside. From here he would observe all of his kill teams in real-time. He could keep in contact with Intrepid almost as easily as if he were on the destroyer itself.

  He fired up one holoscreen and instructed the computer to monitor the progress of Kill Team Outlaw as they moved deeper into the marina. On a second screen he mapped Task Force Granite. They were moving through the storm water system and into the heart of the city itself.