MISSION VERITAS (Black Saber Novels Book 1)

by John Murphy

  Kerrington glared at him. “Asshole.”

  “Ha,” Vasquez said. “Sounds like something Tucker would say…” He caught himself.

  They went silent. It was the first anyone had mentioned Tucker for several hours. Vasquez’s words brought them back to their gruesome reality.

  The sun dipped toward the horizon, and their shadows grew long before them. So did the shadows of the red crystals, which grew more substantial as the candidates progressed. More often than not, they were intact crystalline structures, thin and fragile, peeking up about a foot above the sand, then two, four, and five feet. As the group reached a low point in the expansive valley, some of the crystal structures were eight feet high and eighteen inches thick at the base.

  Spalding threw a rock at one of the specimens. It popped and shattered.

  “Spalding, knock that shit off!” Kerrington yelled. About to yell again, he caught sight of the setting sun. He stopped, awestruck. “Holy shit.”

  The others turned as well. The valley they’d descended through was littered with glowing red crystals that caught and refracted the light of the setting sun.

  Gasps of awe echoed across comms.

  The candidates stood and stared for several minutes. As the sun slipped behind the nearby mountain peaks, the refracted light winked out.

  “All right, candidates,” Kerrington called. “Show’s over. Let’s get back to it.”

  Mitchell consulted her nav tablet. “We’re close. We’re really close.”

  “How are we doing on time?” Vasquez asked.

  “We’re an hour behind schedule. The good news is that it’s a straight shot down through this crystal valley and only a few more miles to the abandoned mine. The bad news is that they allotted four hours to set the charges. By the time we get there, we’ll only have three hours left to do it.”

  “Damn. How long does it take to drop a bomb into a hole in the ground?” Vasquez asked.

  “It must be more than a hole if they allotted four hours,” Sowell said.

  Vasquez wasn’t so sure. “Maybe they built in some buffer time in case we got behind—like we did.”

  Mitchell turned to him, her voice tinged with worry. “I don’t think so. The nav tablet had a specific time at which we were to arrive at each point along the way. Sometimes we were on schedule. Most of the time we were behind. We should have been almost to the mine by now. I’m worried that setting the bomb may be much more difficult than we thought.”

  Kerrington piped up from the rear of the pack. “Don’t worry, when we get there, we’ll just wait for the shuttle to come pick us up at the landing pad.”

  “Thank God,” Goreman said. “I am so ready to go home!”

  “You mean back to Blue Orchid,” Spalding corrected.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Killian felt Kerrington’s suggestion to give up was dangerous. The idea was something the group may actually consider, especially when exhausted. Arguing with Kerrington was futile and a waste of Killian’s energy.

  Sowell trotted up alongside Killian and lifted his face shield to disable comms. “So, Killian, you said you thought you knew who your sponsor is. Who do you think?”

  Killian lifted his face shield in return and gave Sowell a puzzled look. “I have no idea.” He really didn’t. He also didn’t like the idea of revisiting anything discussed last night.

  “Oh, come on, man. After all we’ve been through? Veritas truth time.”

  Killian saw a pattern with Sowell. It started out with some innocent-sounding questions, which then became more probing.

  After several silent paces, Killian said, “I’ll tell you what, Sowell. Let’s finish the mission first. Then you can ask me all the questions you want.”

  “Oh, come on, man!”

  Killian didn’t respond.

  Sowell’s face grew serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What exactly were you gonna do with Spalding back in the cave?”

  Several more silent paces.

  “I understand that you might have some pent-up…issues,” Sowell continued. “But be honest with me, man. I gotta know if you can keep control or if you’re maybe gonna snap. Were you gonna take it any further or were you just being…theatrical?”

  “I thought about it; I could easily do it,” Killian said. “But I didn’t.”

  “Veritas truth time, are you a going to be a danger to any of the others?”

  Killian held out his rifle with one hand, offering it up. “Don’t trust me? Go ahead and take it. I don’t need it.”

  Sowell waved it off. “That’s not the point. I suspect you could take somebody out with a blade of grass. I just have to think about everyone’s safety. What I want to know is if you think you’re on the edge, or are you in control?”

  “If I was on the edge and wanted to kill someone, do you think I’d tell you?”

  “If I asked you, considering the atmosphere.”

  Sowell had a point. Killian thought of the precautions Sowell might take. Would he tell the others about what he knew? Take away his weapons? Take away the bomb?

  “You’re right, Sowell, I’m very good at fighting with or without weapons. But you know I won’t hurt anyone else, don’t you?”

  “Because of the mission,” Sowell said.

  “Exactly. So, you don’t need to worry. I’m in control. I’ll be a good boy. Take away any of my shit if it makes you feel better. Just don’t take the bomb.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I don’t trust Kerrington to not piss his pants, give up, and toss the bomb into the nearest canyon.”

  “You got a point there,” Sowell agreed.

  “Maybe you should ask him if he’s ready to crack, if he’s a danger to anyone else, like me. While you’re at it, ask Dohrn, too, and Spalding…And what the hell is Goreman all about?”

  “Okay, I got it, I got it.”

  “The mission is everything, so you don’t have to worry about me,” Killian said. “Just don’t try to take the bomb.” He snapped his face shield down. If it sounded like an implied threat, it was.

  6 Hours to Extraction

  They lumbered through the tall shards of red crystal, and their pace slowed to less than two miles per hour. As the valley bent to the right, Mitchell indicated that their destination was directly across a mountain finger that jutted down from the surrounding hills.

  They clambered up the rocky hill, crested the knoll, and saw their prize. In the distance was a complex of buildings with a control tower at its center. To the left was a landing pad. Juno was just rising from the jagged mountains behind it. Everything looked pristine, as if it had been vacated only recently.

  The other candidates caught up and exchanged excited comments, raising their face shields.

  “Wait, that can’t be it,” Kerrington said. “That may be the pick-up point, but look over there.”

  They looked to the south and saw darkened hulks of buildings in odd shapes with mechanical-looking towers. The complex looked like it had been destroyed compared with the intact buildings two miles ahead of them. A short, rocky ridge separated the two valleys.

  “Mitchell,” Sowell said, “which one is the target?”

  She brought up her nav tablet and tapped it several times, then turned it over as if inspecting for damage.

  “What’s wrong?” Sowell asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s not working.”

  “Let me see.” Kerrington grabbed the tablet from her. “What’d you do to it?”

  “I swear it was working fifteen minutes ago.”

  “What’s the problem?” Sowell came up behind them.

  “Mitchell fucked up the nav tablet somehow,” Kerrington said.

  “I did not!” Mitchell said. “It was working a few minutes ago. I distinctly remember checki
ng on our progress!”

  “So what’s the problem? We know where we are,” Vasquez said.

  “Yeah, but which place is the target?” Sowell asked.

  “It’s gotta be that place over there.” Kerrington pointed to the destroyed buildings. “It’s obviously been blown up already by other candidates on other missions.”

  “Are you so sure?” Killian asked.

  “Of course I’m sure,” Kerrington said. “Look, there’s the landing pad. Houlihan said we couldn’t miss it. It’s a reasonable distance from the target.”

  Killian lifted his face shield and looked between the two. The complex to the south looked foreign to him with its odd shapes, like nothing he’d seen before. At the same time, it reminded him of the decimated city of Bangkok. Something gnawed at him. The ruined complex didn’t feel right.

  “Do you have a problem, candidate?” Kerrington asked.

  Killian said nothing as he probed his gut, trying to discern what troubled him.

  “Concerns?” Sowell asked. “What’s bothering you, Vaughn?”

  “False choice,” Killian said.

  “What?”

  “It looks like a false choice to me, a decoy.” He pointed at the intact industrial complex. “If we go straight to that one, we have time to spare. They gave us four hours to set the charge.”

  “Yeah,” Kerrington said, “but if we go to that one and it’s the wrong place, we have to cut back through that valley to those blown-up buildings, and then double back again to get to the landing pad. We’d eat up too much time and fail to complete the mission. That’s your decoy.”

  “Oh, come on, man,” Vasquez said. “We’re almost done here. It’s obvious we’re supposed to blow up something over there where it already looks blown up.”

  “It makes sense,” Sowell said. He pointed at the dark complex. “If we go there, we set the charge, and we have plenty of time to get back to the pick-up point. If we have to cross through that valley twice, Kerrington’s right—we’d fail.”

  “Yeah, Killian. It’s obvious,” Dohrn said. “We’re almost done with the mission. I thought you, out of all of us, would be excited!”

  Killian shook his head.

  “It’s easy, man,” Spalding said. “All the hard shit is behind us.”

  “That’s what’s bothering me,” Killian said. “I’m not so sure the hard shit is over.”

  “Not that we need to, but let’s put it to a vote.” Kerrington raised his hand. “Everyone who wants to go to the blown-out complex?”

  Dohrn, Spalding, and Vasquez put their hands up quickly, followed by uncertain movements from Sowell and Mitchell. They looked at Goreman, who looked at Killian but didn’t raise her hand.

  “Killian’s got good instincts,” Goreman said.

  Mitchell lowered her hand. “I take my vote back.”

  Kerrington glared at Mitchell, even longer at Goreman. “There we have it. We’ll go with my plan and set off the charges over at the burned-out complex. Vasquez, take the explosive from Killian. We wouldn’t want his poor judgment or stupidity screwing up the mission again and getting us all killed.”

  Killian tensed, then shot a look at Sowell, who returned a wide-eyed stare. He noticed Sowell firm up his grip on his rifle and shake his head ever so slowly.

  “The mission leader gave an order,” Sowell said in a cautious voice. “Remember, it’s all about the mission.”

  Killian clenched his jaw and glared at him.

  “Come on, man,” Vasquez said casually as he approached. “Time to trade off anyway.”

  Killian continued staring at Sowell but didn’t move.

  “Give it up, candidate,” Kerrington said. “Don’t make me come take it from you.”

  “It’ll be all right,” Sowell said. “I promise. No canyons.”

  Killian envisioned just taking off and making the others follow. Then he recalled his vow to himself not to do anything brash. That was before the jackal and raptor attacks. Yet, his intuition told him the candidates were choosing the wrong way and eating up the precious little time they had left. He realized this wasn’t the time for confrontation, not this close to the finish line.

  He reached up and grabbed the loop of rope holding the bomb, pulled the device off his pack, and held it out to Vasquez.

  As Killian lowered his face shield, he noticed Mitchell looking at him. He stopped and looked back questioningly. She snapped her face shield down and turned to join the others.

  4 Hours to Extraction

  Twilight took hold. The sun had long set, and the glow on the upper reaches of the wispy clouds was fading. It was dark enough that the light from Juno illuminated the group’s way down the rocky slope.

  Ahead, the mysterious collection of strange buildings grew darker and more menacing. The odd, strangely shaped towers seemed demonic, as if anyone lured into their lair would never leave.

  The candidates reached the valley floor. In the distance to their left were the landing pad and the undamaged complex. The closer they got to the dark towers, the more the other complex was hidden by the shoulder of rocky mountainside.

  The seemingly burned-out complex before them lay in a narrow valley between two ridges. Juno’s light bathed the slopes in ethereal light, but the complex was like a void.

  “Turn on your light sticks,” Kerrington called.

  The comparative brightness of their sticks squelched the effects of Juno’s light. Everything beyond their perimeter was dark.

  “This is kind of creepy,” Dohrn said.

  “Tell me about it,” Spalding said.

  “The moonlight was pretty,” Goreman said.

  “Technically, Juno isn’t a moon,” Mitchell said. “It’s a gas giant in a co-orbit around the sun and completely uninhabitable. Despite how close it appears, it trails Veritas by 2.26 million miles.”

  “Thanks for the clarification, Mitchell,” Kerrington said sarcastically.

  “I’m just trying to be accurate.”

  The mysterious complex remained void of light and grew much larger as they got closer.

  The order the candidates were marching in had reversed, with Kerrington, Goreman, Dohrn, and Spalding up front, Vasquez and Sowell in the middle, and Mitchell and Killian bringing up the rear.

  Mitchell slowed and flipped up her face shield. “Sorry if it seemed like I was voting against you back there.”

  Killian flipped up his face shield and spoke softly. “No problem. Although I was wondering why the switch.”

  “What Kerrington said made sense. I mean, this place looks like it had been destroyed before, and the other place looked undisturbed. Surely the mission commanders wouldn’t want to blow it up.”

  “So why the switch?”

  “My last recall of the nav tablet, before it flaked out on me, was that the target lay dead ahead of the path we were on. That would make the other complex right in line with us. This is a tangent that I didn’t see on the nav.”

  “Hmm…”

  “Besides, I agree with Goreman. I think you know what you’re doing.”

  Killian looked at her, surprised. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. I think you have a knack for this, unlike me. I’m too much of an academic. More than once, I’ve been accused of having a brilliant lack of common sense.”

  “I think you’re extremely useful,” Killian said. “We need your intelligence.”

  “You say that because I have the nav tablet. Anyone could do what I’ve done.”

  “I think they gave you the nav tablet because you’re the smartest of us. Just like you think I have a knack for this stuff, I think you have a knack for assimilating and interpreting data.”

  “Wow, those are some pretty big words,” she said, smiling.

  “What, for a knuckle-dragger like me?”

 
; “I didn’t mean to offend you!”

  “I’m deeply wounded.”

  Several moments passed in silence.

  “Do you like her?” Mitchell asked.

  “Who?”

  “Goreman. She is very pretty.”

  “So are you,” Killian said.

  “Oh, I’m sure. I’m a braniac, but thank you for the compliment,” she said. “We all, I mean, the other girls and I, could see how you guys were drooling over her.”

  “It’s pretty hard to ignore a naked woman,” Killian admitted.

  “So do you like her?”

  “She is—attractive…”

  “But?”

  “I—I’m wary, you might say,” Killian said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Such a good-looking girl can cause guys to do stupid things—alter their judgment.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Besides, it introduces complications—competition for her attention. If it were up to me, I would never take someone so—distracting—on a mission. She doesn’t seem to offer any useful qualities.” He paused. “Something my father used to say comes to mind.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Chicks is trouble.”

  “That’s incredibly sexist,” Mitchell said, more an observation than an objection. “But my mother used to tell me exactly that.”

  “What?” Killian said.

  “That men are incredibly sexist,” she said. “Go on, give me the context of your father’s quote unquote ‘wisdom.’”

  “I used to hear him and my mom arguing behind closed doors a lot, especially toward…” he stopped.

  “The bombing?”

  He jerked his head toward her. “Who said anything about a bombing?”

  “Sowell, of course,” she said. “Presumably he heard it from you.”

  “Damn it, Sowell,” he said. “When did he tell you this?”

  “Yesterday morning after Benson ran off.”

  “Damn it!”

  “One might conclude that dicks is trouble, too, then,” she said with a sly grin.

  “Anyway…”

  “Yes, your father was saying…” she said.

  “Well, after an argument, he’d come and check on me, or interrupt me, as I was always on Fantasia. He’d sit down on the couch, ask me about school, friends, or whatever. We didn’t talk all that much, so I thought it was annoying that he’d do it. Then I’d ask if everything was okay between him and my mom. He’d just shake his head, grin a little bit, and say, ‘Chicks is trouble.’”