by Dave Swavely
This was one of the most interesting global political developments in the twenty-first century—how the American populace had grown more and more isolationist as a result of numerous recessions and secessions, but also how some shrewd politicians cooked up a scheme to arm and empower other like-minded nations to create a buffer of security for their suffering society. This was all done in the name of “global sharing” and “reverse colonialism,” and so was more palatable to the tastes of the voters. I didn’t understand much of that, but what I did know was that I was gliding through the depths of the ocean in one of the most amazing machines I had ever seen, armed with American wartech that was worth a fortune, and could never have been developed by my own country.
Resting between my legs, in the storage spot carved out for it, was a gun with three barrels called the Alliant Trinity. (That was the only place in the thin coffin where there was room for the weapon, but that didn’t stop everyone on the sub from cracking jokes about it.) The Trinity could fire a monofilament grappling wire and two kinds of projectiles—for this operation it was loaded with caseless explosive and killer rounds, both of which were “smart” in the sense that they could change direction in midair and be guided to their targets. This was achieved by a link to the other ridiculously expensive piece of wartech, which was the eye rig I was wearing that stretched around to the back of my head, allowing me not only to see in the dark and identify targets for the Trinity, as many combat goggles could do, but also to have a 360-degree view of my surroundings. This was accomplished by cameras on the outside of the rig that projected into the view inside, with a technology similar to the net glasses many people used, but much more complex. So in the center of my view was what I normally saw in front of my head, but on the peripheries were the input from the cameras showing what was behind and above me. If I kept my head still, but moved my eyes to those peripheral images, I literally had eyes in the back of my head (and the top). I remembered how I had loved practicing with the gun and the goggles on the day before the operation, and how excited I was about using them on real targets.
Since I was thinking about the 360-degree capabilities of the eye rig, and guessing that the holo would soon show the part where I reached the island, I decided to transfer it to the whole net room and take the simpler goggles off, so I could see everything I saw that night in Taiwan. When I did, I told Vera to interrupt my viewing only if Terrey or Lynn called, or if the cottage’s security was breached. Then I imported images of Zhang Sun and all of his close friends and family members into the projection system, directing it to alert me if any of the faces I encountered in the power plant matched with any of them. I wondered if maybe one of the Chinese that I killed or maimed in the operation was someone close to Sun … it was the only possibility I could think of at the time for why he hated me so much.
I turned in my chair to face the coffin’s headlights, so I would be oriented in the correct direction to catch all the action. Other than those lights and some navigation displays that were on the edges of the goggle’s front view, the room was totally dark. That was because the sea around the headlight beams was dark, and because the inside of the coffin was, too, so the peripheral cameras weren’t projecting any images yet. I reached behind me to the only other thing I could see in the room, which were the softly lit controls of the keyboard and mouse, and fast forwarded the holo until I could see the big pipe that was my destination. I shifted in the chair until I was comfortable, and let myself drift into this virtual world that had been very real just eight years ago.
“This is Talon 3,” my voice rang out from the holo. “I’ve reached the insertion point.”
The Americans had not only provided us with the most cutting edge wartech, but they had also lent their strategic and simulation prowess to the planning of this operation. The Taiwanese had shared with them and British intelligence all the information about the Lungmen site, of course, to give us an opportunity to come up with a plan that could neutralize the Chinese threats without Taipei being endangered. But the natives didn’t expect that to happen, and were genuinely surprised to find themselves agreeing that the plan could work and giving their approval for it to go ahead. One of the keys was that there was a desalination plant that had been built in the tight space between the nuclear power plant and the ocean, which enabled the Taiwanese to kill two birds with one stone and address their water crisis as well as their energy crisis. Many of these plants, which converted salt water into potable, had been added to nuclear sites all over the world, because they needed tremendous amounts of energy to make their contribution to the global water shortage, which had become almost as much of a threat to the world’s population as the global energy shortage.
I was being inserted through the seawater intake of the desalination plant, because we knew that the primary security measures would be on the nuclear facility itself. For example, there were no sensors on the protective grill at the end of the large pipe, so the tool array on the front of the coffin merely projected a laser oval and cut a hole that I would fit through. I then proceeded down the long tunnel at a faster speed than I had come in, because the strategists had not been completely sure (as they never are) that this wouldn’t be detected. We expected that the primary surveillance of the Chinese, if they even had any on this part of the site, would be heat sensors tuned to detect human activity. But we knew this wouldn’t be a problem, because both the coffin and every inch of my body were “cold.” The coffin was lined with a polymer that hid all heat signatures, and the black bodysuit that covered every inch of my skin was made out of a similar substance.
The pipe stretched far out to sea and disappeared into the ground well before it reached the coast, because the builders wanted to protect the marine environment as well as the beach and dunes. But I proceeded at a fast clip, only stopping twice for other safety grates, and before I knew it I was inside the underground portion of the desalination plant, as far as I could go because the water was now funneling into smaller pipes. Before I exited the coffin, I checked the HUD displays in my goggles to make sure there was no indication of Chinese alarms or other security issues detected by our tech people on the sub. There were none, so I opened the coffin and swung my legs out, crouching by its side so I could pull out the Trinity and hang it on the back of my left shoulder. (The insertion suit was ingeniously designed to hold it in place, while still allowing me sufficient freedom of movement.) Then I shimmied to the front of the coffin, detached the tool array from its front, and used it to open a hole in the high side of the pipe, so that no water would escape when I climbed out. I then slung the tool array, which looked something like a small oblong steering wheel, over my other shoulder so it was fastened there. The two pieces of equipment felt like wings on my back, and in a very real sense they would fly me where I needed to go.
I made my way through the desalination plant without incident—as we expected, the Chinese didn’t even bother to post guards in it. They should have, though, because the turbine end of it was built very close to the reactor, so that energy from it could be channeled to the desal plant at the times when the grid was low, and untreated water could be channeled back into the reactor for cooling use. Also in our favor, and more evidence that the special forces gods were smiling upon this operation, was the fact that the Lungmen plant had two reactors, but the Chinese only had to rig one of them in order to achieve their goal. And that one happened to be next to the desalination plant.
So before long, I was on the bottom floor of Reactor Building 1, crouched between a big purplish heat exchanger and some gold hydraulic system pumps, manipulating the display in my goggles so I could see where the Chinese soldiers were stationed on the path to the explosives they had set. Unlike me in my suit, they were not “cold” or hidden from a thermal scan, so I could see that there were too many of them along both routes that I could take, one of which was a stairwell and the other a utility elevator. The explosives had been placed three stories up from where I was, in
a room with one of the backup diesel generators, which was to the side of the tall reactor core, just below the pool of spent fuel, and right beside the north wall of the building. That was the reason the generator room had been chosen, because the only way radiation could be released into the air was if the water was drained out of the spent fuel pool, and if there was a hole in the side of the building for it to escape from. The room with the diesel generator, which was ironically one of the safety systems, was in a perfect location for both. A big enough explosion there would open holes both in the bottom of the fuel pool and in the side of the building.
Of course the Chinese had to disable the rest of the backup safety systems in order for this to happen as well, so that’s why we knew that Ho and some of his men would be in the control room at the south end of the reactor building, where the general could also be safe from the explosion he would trigger by remote control. But he had stationed a good number of his force in and around the generator room, just in case we tried something like we were trying. Reviewing the numbers and positions again in my goggles, I was convinced that I wouldn’t be able to reach the explosives without engaging too many of the guards and bringing the rest of Ho’s force down on my head. Killing even one before I disabled the detonators could easily alert them, so I really needed to accomplish this part with complete stealth.
So, as much as I regretted what would probably happen to my two friends, I had to call them in as distractions.
“This is Talon 3,” I said, not worrying about being overheard because of the hum of the machines around me. “My path is not clear enough. Send in Talon 1 and Talon 2.”
The staging crew at the sub acknowledged my request, and I pictured in my mind the two other insertion coffins floating in the deep water off the coast. They each entered one of the two discharge pipes from the power plant, where the “clean” water used by it was released into the sea. The two pipes were similar to the one from the desalination plant that I had entered, but they were parallel to the ocean floor rather than perpendicular. The other difference was that the two discharge pipes were more likely to be monitored, and where they led to was much more likely to be guarded. We had hoped that Talons 1 and 2 would make it into the interior of the site without being detected, to serve as backup or even accomplish the mission if I couldn’t, but the sober reality was that we all knew they probably would only serve as a misdirection for the Chinese.
Sure enough, about ten minutes later their presence was detected below the control room building, which sat between the reactor and the big turbine building where the nuclear energy was converted to electricity. I was aware of this because I had placed a feed in my goggles’ view from Talon 2, since I knew him much better than the other British soldier. I also saw that most of the Chinese guards between me and my target were suddenly called away from my location, opening a path for me to the generator room.
I wasted no time weaving my way through the big machines, the rooms full of pipes and electrical equipment, and the long stairway that led to the spent fuel pool near the top of the building. Not too far before I reached the top of the stairway, I exited it through one of its few doors, because I knew that I could get to the generator room that way, and because my display showed the heat signature of two Chinese guarding the door at the top of the stairs. This was presumably to keep anyone from entering through the roof, as some of them had done when they infiltrated the plant.
When I reached the door to the generator room, I pulled the Trinity off my shoulder and cradled it with both hands. I felt the trigger with my index finger, and moved my thumb over the controls to make sure the killer barrel was selected, rather than the one with explosive rounds or the other with the grappling line. Then, because I had no choice in this situation, I flashed into the room as quickly as I could and shot the two guards inside. I was lucky that they’d both been facing the other way at the time, and even luckier when I checked their comm rigs and saw that they weren’t open or broadcasting. So the gunfire wasn’t heard by anyone on their lines, and I was hopeful that my distractions would give me a good chunk of time before the other Reds realized these were gone.
I wasn’t disappointed, because for the next half hour or so the Reds were quite preoccupied with their two prisoners and one of the coffins, which they had hauled up to the control room for General Ho to see. I watched through Talon 2’s goggles, which the Chinese had left on for some reason, as I began removing the remote detonators from the large stacks of C-7 and clamping them to my tool array, which I had now magnetized. After I removed all the detonators, I turned the array around and started spraying all the C-7 with a chemical called Lexout that would render it inert. These two measures would ensure that the Chinese could not rearm the explosives before the Taiwanese army arrived. And we were quite confident that they didn’t have any more C-7, because they had to bring these blocks in piece by piece on the backs of the soldiers who had powerglided in.
As I was sabotaging the sabotage, a window in my goggles showed me the drama going on in the control room, and another program in them translated the Chinese into English. The translation program was flawed, as they always seem to be, but I could tell what was going on. General Ho examined the coffin his soldiers had carried there, and was informed by his assistants that there were two coffins inserted, with one man in each, and that they were identified as Talon 1 and Talon 2, with schematics loaded for an assault on the control room. He then turned his attention to the two captured men, telling his helpers to leave the goggles on Talon 2 because he wanted whoever was watching to see what was going to happen, and had them hold Talon 2’s head in place so that we had to watch what he did to the other Brit.
The Chinese general pulled out a big knife and went to work on the man, smiling the whole time. He didn’t ask any questions during the torture, probably because he didn’t think he would get many answers, and was banking on getting some from the second man after he saw what happened to his friend. I was a pretty hardened veteran by this time, even though I was only twenty-six, but even I flinched and looked away when Ho reached the man’s lower parts and castrated him. Rage toward Ho surged inside me, along with guilt for my part in this, but I forced myself to continue the job of removing the detonators and neutralizing the explosives. Then I really had to work hard at finishing the job, because Talon 1 passed out and the bloody knife was turned on the other man, who was a close friend of mine. Ho proceeded slower this time, thankfully, because he paused for some questions in between the cutting, and soon I was done with my work in the generator room. I manipulated the controls on the tool array until it was keyed to all the detonators attached to it, in case I wanted to use them at some point, and called in.
“This is Talon 3,” I said. “Mission accomplished.”
“Affirmative, Talon 3,” came the reply. “Proceed to the extraction point. We’ll send in the hoverjet for you now, and the army assault will follow on its heels, now that there is no more radiation threat.”
I did the mental math in my head, and was quite sure that my friend wouldn’t make it until I was extracted and the cavalry arrived.
“Request permission to engage the enemy and rescue Talon 2,” I said.
“Request denied. Proceed to the extraction point.”
“I don’t have time to argue this with you,” I said, as I stepped out of the generator room. “Let me talk to Admiral Carter.”
Howard Carter’s voice came on the line momentarily, and I repeated my request to him.
“Follow your orders, son,” the man said, even though he wasn’t much older than I. “We don’t want to lose you in this operation, too.” When I was silent in response and he sensed my intent, he added, “If you disobey my direct order, I will not offer you another extraction or delay the attack. And from what I’ve heard, the Taiwanese will probably level the site before they endanger themselves in a firefight. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
I understood what he was saying to me. But I
turned off the comm and headed in the direction of my friend, his screams still echoing in my ears.
23
MEANT TO BE
The car that Angelee drove to the store, with Chris in the backseat, was the nicest one she’d ever been in, even though it was intentionally plain so as not to be noticed. She was so glad that her late husband had made her get a driver’s license, even though they had never owned a car and she only drove his uncle Otto’s truck once in a while when Peter was at work (he rode the bus and train). Shopping for her knight in shining armor, and planning to cook for him, made her feel happier than she had been since her early days with Peter, or maybe when she first met Michael at the shelter a few months before. “Michael”—Did she dare call him that? If they were going to be married, then she would have to, right?
She pranced proudly through the store while Chris watched TV in the cart, the wad of cash burning a hole in her little purse made of cracked imitation leather. When she reached the cashier, she felt the urge to tell the man that she was shopping for—and living with!—a very important person who had saved her life. But then she remembered her vow of secrecy and felt ashamed that the thought of betraying his trust had even entered into her mind.
On the way back to the vineyard cottage, she was ruminating (again) on the new man in her life, and the thought that he didn’t seem to share Peter’s faith, or her weaker version for that matter, flashed unwelcomed into her mind. Would her late husband not approve of her marrying an unbeliever? He had told her several times that she should remarry if something happened to him, but surely that would be a condition. And would she be really happy if they weren’t on the same page spiritually? But she pushed such thoughts out of her mind, reasoning that God had brought them together, for sure, so He would take care of that. And then God gave her an idea right then, when Chris pointed at the car’s entertainment system and asked, “Can you play my movie?” She knew he was referring to the treasured holo that his father had given him, which he played over and over again.