by Nick Thacker
“So I guess it’s the river, then? Float down and hope we see a way in?” Ben asked.
“Affirmative. It’s at least the only option that keeps us away from prying eyes. The Ravenshadow soldiers will be guarding the main entrances. Might be a few patrols around the perimeter, but the river cuts next to a cliff. It’s pretty unnavigable landscape on the ground out there.”
Jeffers’ voice came over the feed. “Boss, you said these guys have been down here for months?”
“Likely even longer,” Beale said. “Over a year, probably.”
“Well,” Jeffers said. “If their army is as big a deal as the CSO guys make it seem, that’s a lot of men to keep happy. Food, water, pot to piss in. You know where I’m going with this?”
“You’re thinking there is an access shaft they won’t be guarding?”
“I’m thinking they’ve got to at least have a sewage dump line. Something more modern, but it could just be a channel that they’re forcing water through. One that ends in a deep spot in the river.”
Ben thought about it. Aside from the obvious environmental ignorance of building such a system, it would be the easiest way to remove the waste and debris from inside the mountain.
“Hold that thought,” one of the soldiers said in reply. “This right here…” he seemed to be speaking directly with Beale, so Ben assumed it was one of the Green Berets with him in the front jeep. “We thought it was just an anomaly from the visualization software. We used LIDAR and ground-penetrating radar, combined and superimposed on the topographical map of the mountain to build an image of the valley and surrounding area. Sometimes those interfaces don’t always sync up and we get… imperfections. This one here…” his voice trailed off again, then came back, “looks like it runs up from the river to the center of the base. It could be exactly that.”
“Or it could just be an imperfection.”
“Yeah, true. But it really would be an easy shot to get in, and worst case, there’s nothing there and we just have the drivers pick us up downriver and try again.”
“Can’t argue with that,” Beale said. “Great. That’s the plan. We drop in just north of the mountain, where the river’s wide and calm. Our gear gives us a little over an hour to get in — we have to conserve the other half in case we need to make a water exit — and hopefully we can get where we need to go from there.”
The soldiers signed off, and Ben looked back at Julie.
Hope this works, he thought. He knew he didn’t need to say it aloud.
She was thinking the same thing.
28
Garza
Garza’s mind rarely drifted. As a stoic, he had practiced for years the techniques and training detailed by the Ancient Greek philosophers, and he had grown to control the thoughts that found their way into his mind. It was a skill he had needed numerous times on the battlefield, both in the corporate world and in the military.
But every so often his mind reached back for a memory that he thought had been locked away, a memory so deeply lodged in his archives that he wondered if his Stoic training couldn’t even prevent it from reappearing at will.
He sat down, already feeling the exhaustion of his day’s work taking a toll. He had been at it since five in the morning, a habit he’d picked up — and kept — since boot camp. He had done his morning walkthrough after eating breakfast with his men, then fielded a few training questions from his second-in-command, Morrison, and finally taken a call from his buyer, who was currently in the country.
But that was all normal day-to-day business. After lunch, he’d walked through his demonstration floor, examining the newest suits his scientists and engineers had built. He employed fifteen engineers, three chemists, two physicians, and a handful of other mechanics, technicians, and computer scientists. Together, the teams had churned out failed design after failed design, complaining about either low battery life, power output restraints, extreme stress on the human operators, or some combination of all three.
His weapons experts had struggled with fitting the rounds into their casings and then into a magazine that was able to fit within the Exos’ shells, but they had eventually figured it out.
The first generation of Exosuits was a massive success, and he had allowed his men — in shifts, of course — to take extended four-day vacations to rest and recover for the next phase.
That next phase was the groundbreaking achievement. His magnum opus, the culmination of all the hard work he’d done studying and finding the perfect team of professionals. Moving his entire company to a country that wouldn’t interfere with his work had taken more legal maneuvering than he’d cared to do, but the deal was done.
He was now the owner of the single best military exoskeleton suit of armor on the planet. His was going to change the world, but unlike his competitors, he wasn’t interested in merely selling the new tech to the highest bidder. He had countless ways to make money and generate income, and at its core Ravenshadow was still a security company that could earn plenty of work overseas.
No, he wanted more. He wanted both the money for the tech and the control. Selling it outright was a recipe for disaster. It could end up in the hands of a dictator in a third-world country, or, even worse, in the hands of a corrupt first-world government’s military.
Instead, he had worked a deal that was nearly as impressive as the tech itself. A four-way transaction between an ultimate buyer and him, the ultimate seller. But he’d also ensured that his part would be broker of that same deal, a way of both extracting more profit from the deal and in securing his bottom-line ownership of the tech. By explaining to the buyer that he was working with an exclusive broker who would own a liability license for half of the new tech, he could prevent the tech from being wholly resold as a proprietary item.
And giving this broker exclusive access to resell licenses to use the complete system, he prevented the technology from growing without him, or from getting into the wrong hands.
In short, of the two crucial components that made his tech work, he wanted to sell one half of it outright and license the other half.
And neither the seller nor the other parties involved needed to know that he was both the buyer and the broker in the deal. His legal exploits had made the confusion of these facts easy to pull off, and neither the buyer nor the third party who thought they were the broker knew the full details.
It was a massive, complicated mess, but in Garza’s mind it was dead-simple. He wanted to retain the ability to control the tech. He wanted to ensure the future of his Exosuits would be governed by him, no matter who thought they had control of it.
All of this was on Garza’s mind when he came to rest in the chair. But all of these things were things he’d allowed into his mind.
What he hadn’t expected today was a thought of a different type: a memory. One that he apparently had no control over preventing.
His wife was there, as was his newborn daughter, Victoria. They were happy. Very happy. The kind of happy that almost causes pain. Perhaps even one of the last times he had felt that way.
He could feel the heartache crawling up from his stomach, the pain of remembrance, the pain of loss. In the memory, he looked down at Victoria. His daughter. His world.
He’d wanted so much for her, but he hadn’t realized what it would cost. Losing his wife — Victoria’s mother — had changed his outlook on life. He’d realized that while family was important, it had also been the cause of their loss. Without her mother, Victoria had drifted away.
Without his wife, Garza had allowed it to happen.
Without closeness of that nature, pain would never have been allowed to set in. If he had never taken these lives and intertwined them with his own, never committed to the journey of living life with loved ones, he never would have been set back.
He had focused his sights on something that could never leave him, something that wasn’t human and couldn’t cause him pain: his work.
He had turned away from Vic
toria after her mother had passed, turned his focus toward new beginnings, new achievements.
Victoria was there, in her mother’s arms. The memory had a special place in his mind not because of the love that he felt, but because it was a good picture for how he envisioned both his wife and his only child: gone.
The memory wasn’t a reminder of his time with his family, but of what he had been able to accomplish without them. It was a vivid reminder that the world would continue spinning no matter what. Best to spend it doing something that would leave a legacy.
29
Julie
Julie gripped Ben’s hand tightly as they stood on the shore, waiting for the soldiers to hand out the scuba equipment. They’d trained together a few times, but hadn’t gotten their certification yet. However, the basics and most of the early practice was second nature to both of them.
And since they would be in a river, they wouldn’t be at much depth. Their trimix of nitrogen, helium, and oxygen was kept to a ratio that would benefit a shallow dive, as the only reason they’d need to be completely submerged would be to stay out of sight of any Ravenshadow patrols who might be looking down at the river from up above.
When Beale got to the two of them, he handed them each a pair of goggles and waited while two of his men brought over the tanks and began hooking them up. “I assume I don’t need to give you a lesson in scuba, do I?” he asked.
Ben shook his head. “We’re good. Done it a few times.”
“Very well. All you need to know then is that we’re using back-mounted BCDs, buoyancy control devices, so we’re clear in front of us. More maneuverable that way, too. And there aren’t any suits — dry or wet — so be sure you bail out if you start getting cold; hypothermia isn’t a joke, and we’re not stopping to warm up.”
They nodded.
“I guess… that’s it. You know the drill. Don’t get in our way. We need you to verify it’s Ravenshadow when we’re in, and help us get to Garza. That’s it. It’s not a sightseeing mission, and if something goes wrong with your tanks, you’re off. Get out of the water and get back to civilization on your own.”
“Don’t worry,” Julie said, starting to feel a bit annoyed at Beale’s holier-than-thou attitude and pretentiousness. “We’re not going to slow you down.”
Beale examined her, then nodded once. “Oh,” he said. “And don’t forget. You’ve got a communicator that’s waterproof, but there’s no way to send or receive while we’re underwater. Wait until we’re back on dry land or out of the water, then flick it on. They’re line-of-sight, and I’m the relay, so if you get more than fifty or so feet away from me you’re incommunicado.”
Julie and Ben nodded.
He turned and walked back to his group. Mrs. E, already wearing her tanks and flippers, waddled over. “These things are quite tight,” she said.
“You’re not the smallest of people, E,” Ben answered. “Here, let me help.” He reached behind her and fiddled with the straps of her tanks a bit. Then, when Julie saw that Beale was engaged in another conversation, Ben spoke again. “He’s a real piece of work, huh?”
Mrs. E smiled. “He is a soldier. Not used to working with civilians, I predict.”
“I thought they were supposed to be ‘force multipliers,’ or something like that,” Ben said.
Reggie’s voice joined in from behind them. “They are. They’re just not used to having help. They want to swoop in and be the heroes. Either clean up the mess themselves or train the on-the-ground local troops how to do it.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to be a jerk about it,” Ben muttered.
“He’s not. He just wants to keep us all alive, and he’s got a million things on his mind.”
“It’s not that,” Julie said. “I mean, I get all that — that’s how we feel, too. Victoria’s in there, and I want to make sure we get her out safely. We all know the danger.”
Reggie shrugged. “Yeah, he’s not much of a people person, but I’d bet he’s more than capable of getting the mission finished. Just trust him a little longer.”
Julie sighed, checked her levels and equipment for malfunctions and problems, and, satisfied, walked over to the bin to pick out a set of flippers. She’d trained with Ben at a scuba school a few months ago, after their stint in The Bahamas, and they’d been snorkeling a few times. All of those times they’d been handed a set of heavy silicon flippers that never fit quite right.
The pair she grabbed from this bin, however, seemed to mold right to her bare feet, easing into the contours and shapes and forming a perfect seal around them. They were also smaller and lighter, and she knew they would allow her much more maneuverability, at the expense of a bit of power.
But they’d be traveling downstream, at least for this portion of the journey. The river was cumbersome and slow-moving, deep in some spots but in most places no more than eight to ten feet. They would be able to take advantage of the powerful yet slow current, allowing it to push them along without much strain. It would benefit their energy — and oxygen — stores, and give them more to tap into for the return journey upstream.
“Okay, let’s move out,” Beale said. His soldiers were busy camouflaging the equipment bins and jeeps, which they’d parked off the road far enough into the trees that they would be impossible to see.
Ben and Julie shuffled down to the shoreline, where Reggie and Mrs. E were already testing the water. Birds and monkeys scattered in a huff of activity and noise, all then turning back at a safe distance to eye the newcomers.
“It’s warm,” Reggie called back to them, smiling. “Nothing like a quick dip in a comfy river to start the day.”
Julie wished she could borrow his optimism, but she knew their task was going to be monumental, if not impossible. They’d find Garza, but what then? Would there be time for the Green Berets to negotiate? Would Garza even allow it?
And where was Victoria? Had she already accomplished their mission, and they were now just running into a mess?
“Come on, Jules,” Ben said, his voice redirecting her attention to the water, where he was standing, waist-deep. “It really is pretty warm.”
“How’s the bottom?” she asked. She’d always hated the feel of lakes and rivers — the squishy, mushy mess of plants and mud that festered in the darkness of the depths. She shuddered even as she said it.
“It’s… a river. Pretty mucky, but we’re not walking, we’re swimming.”
She nodded and stepped in, squeezing her eyes closed. Why can’t we be walking over a nice, sunny beach instead of slogging through an Amazonian tributary? She wanted to get to the center of the stream as soon as possible, so she could start treading water.
“Anything we should worry about out here?” one of the soldiers asked.
Jeffers, who was already fitting his mask and regulator over his head, answered. “Nah, nothing besides piranha and crocs.”
The other soldier’s eyes widened. “S — seriously?”
Jeffers smiled, and Reggie answered. “No, piranha won’t bother us, and all the big crocs are much lower — over in Brazil and the basin. Anaconda, too. They’re all in the warmer, brackish water. Up here it’s just monkeys and birds. Oh, and blood-sucking bugs. But in case we do see any of the bigger stuff, I’ve got a harpoon that’ll fly through a brick wall.”
The soldier shook his head, annoyed.
“Also them,” Beale said. He flicked his eyes to the road, which they could barely see through the trees. Julie followed his gaze and saw that there were two vehicles — SUVs — moving slowly toward them. The road here bent in toward the river, and there would be a few seconds where they might be easily spotted. “Everyone, down. Underwater. Count out three minutes and resurface.”
They all obliged, Julie having to rush putting on her regulator and mask and shoving her face beneath the water. She almost forgot that they were all armed as well, and her rifle nearly fell off her shoulder. She rolled onto her back and tightened the strap simultaneously, watching
the bright surface of the water.
Trees and vines swayed above the surface, and she backed up toward the center of the river where Ben and the others waited, careful to stay underwater.
The water felt cool on her skin, though it was within the realm of what she’d describe as “warm,” and it blocked out nearly all of the sound from around her. There was the swishing noise of Ben and Mrs. E to her right and left, messing with their digital controls and getting into position, and there was the sound of a monkey screeching from somewhere that sounded far away, and there was —
An engine.
Was it one of the SUVs? Had they been spotted?
She glanced toward the shoreline just as her vision was blocked by a huge, black shape.
30
Julie
Beale.
Julie had nearly spat out her regulator and began shooting at the man. When he swam into her sightline, she had been focusing just beyond him at the edge of the water, where she thought she’d seen one of the SUVs.
He was motioning, using his fingers and eyes as a way to tell her what was about to happen.
The problem was that she had no idea what he meant.
Finally, with an annoyed flick of his wrist, he pointed downstream and nodded. Then he reached out and pulled Julie forward, then, as if she weighed nothing to him, tossed her that direction.
“Hey —” she tried to say, but the words through her regulator did nothing but come out as bubbles and muffled grunts.
Ben, Reggie, and Mrs. E were already in motion, and each of them had their rifles out and pointed the direction they were swimming. Deciding that she, too, wouldn’t be taking any chances, Julie reached over her shoulder and pulled the rifle in front of her. Reggie had informed them that their weapons were essentially waterproof — though they wouldn’t necessarily work well underwater — but the ammunition was not. If any moisture got inside the cartridges, the round would be ruined. However, he’d told them that it was highly unlikely with modern weaponry.