by A J Jameson
“What about forcing an audit on the CDC?” Marek asked, unnerved at how easily Law brushed aside the question of potential casualties. “Have them run tests and put in work orders for a revitalized purification system.”
Law waved him off. “That’ll take months, maybe years. And who’s to say the CDC will find anything wrong with the water quality?” He motioned for Marek to make his move.
Marek’s king inched toward Law’s last pawn. With the right setup, he could keep the pawn at bay. Maybe even take it with his queen. He’d lose his queen right after, but then he’d use his king to take Law’s queen and the two would dance around until they came to a stalemate. And in Marek’s eyes, that was as good as a victory.
“I’ve spoken with the board and they’re giving C3U the green light,” Law said. “If you want Bravo to be a part of it, well, I’ve given the mission statement.” He put Marek in check with his rook. “The goal is solidified, but the methodology remains flexible.”
“Try telling that to Sadie.” Marek advanced his king.
“Sadie is cut from oak,” Law said. “But even oak sways when the wind blows.” Once again, Law put Marek in check with his rook.
“Not if it windthrows,” Marek said. “And Sadie has the dense skull and uncompromising posture to fall…” he trailed off, noticing that not only was he in check, but his queen was also in danger. Moving his king would mean slaughter to his queen, but he could also kill the rook with his queen, leaving Law’s pawn free for promotion.
Law sat quietly, no smiles or notion of victory affecting his features. He’d wait until Marek’s king was knocked down to even consider himself the victor of this game.
Marek killed the rook with his queen. And then Law’s pawn got a promotion to bishop, the move consequently landing Marek in checkmate. He flicked his king’s crown, knocking the piece over. Law allowed himself a moment’s grin, then gestured for Marek to replace his own pieces to the board. After all these years, Marek couldn’t remember a single time when Law had replaced the white pieces. Even if they fell by some accidental force, he’d wait for the next time Marek was in his office to have them corrected.
“Why did you choose the bishop?” Marek asked.
Law had picked up The Art of War and was thumbing to the page they had last visited. “It got the job done,” he said flatly.
“But if you have the option for a queen, why not pick her? She’s more versatile than a bishop. More effective.”
“In every situation,” Law agreed. He retrieved his reading glasses from the breast pocket of his sports jacket. “But if you can win with a bishop, it’s a great reminder that a bishop is capable of winning, especially on those days you no longer have a queen. Here we go.” He cleared his throat. “In war, practice dissimulation, and you will succeed.” He glanced up, confirming that Marek had heard the passage clearly before closing the book. “Thoughts on Laced Rain?”
Marek considered the passage. To dissimulate meant to conceal one’s true intentions from another. To remain camouflaged in thought or presence. Politicians were perhaps the most well-known adopters of dissimulation, but that wasn’t to say they were the only ones. A parent making false promises to pacify a child could also be considered a candidate. For Marek, personally, dissimulation meant learning and then assigning the appropriate disguise for the mission. Business suits, medical apparel, officer uniforms. It meant assuming a certain role.
“We’ll assume the role of technicians from Pure Water Laboratories, located a couple of counties south. Two operatives will be at ground zero, dressed in matching uniforms with clearly identifiable logos. Two more operatives will wear plain clothing and keep a lookout. And, of course, Yolanda will be monitoring from base.”
Law smiled. His gums were almost blood-red and his teeth a shade darker near their roots. He was getting brittle. “And of Sadie’s team?”
“They can occupy locations near Pure Water Laboratories.”
The smile vanished. “I was hoping you’d come around by now, Marek. Is it really so difficult for you and Sadie to work together?”
“Sadie doesn’t listen to anything anyone says. Unless it’s Kyle, and that’s because he follows her around like a dog.”
Law pressed his hands together in prayer and rested his chin on the tips of his fingers. He pursed his lips, thinking. Then cleared his throat and said, “How about we apply the words of Sun Tzu to the true issue at hand. What if you practiced dissimulation on Sadie?”
Marek positioned the final pawn in its original starting place. “How?”
“By pretending you believe in her abilities as Vanguard. By following her commands.” He shrugged. “And maybe she’ll return the favor.”
“But that’s dishonesty within C3U. You taught us never to lie to each other.”
Law nodded. “Never tell a lie, yes. But keep secrets? That’s a must to keep our organization protected. Following someone else’s plan, even if you disagree with it, is an act of dissimulation that benefits the organization as a whole.”
Marek chewed the words over. He had an idea of how Sadie was planning to run the mission. He had overheard her speaking with Zyta and Victoria about making the bacteria for Laced Rain more potent.
“So?” Law inquired. “Do you think going along with Sadie on this upcoming mission will benefit us in the future?”
“I try to refrain from anticipating the future.”
“Speculation isn’t a bad thing, Marek. Think of all the…” he reached for the handkerchief in his breast pocket and let loose a few weak coughs before continuing. “Think of all the contingencies we prep before a mission.”
“But they’re developed through intelligence gathering. Empirical evidence analyzed and dissected.”
“Experience can act as evidence.” Law gestured at the chess board. “Take this game, for example. Every time we play, you get better. And why? Empirical evidence? Do you research chess strategies?” He mirrored Marek’s smirk. “No matter, I looked up strategies, too, when I was younger. Youth is one long game of catchup. Learning what others already know, and then elaborating on those thoughts and skills to change their shape.”
“Like water, assuming the shape of its container,” Marek said.
Law nodded. “But people have lost their respect for water. We shall remind them of its importance.”
Laced Rain would be the reminder, Marek thought. Maybe he had been underestimating the importance of this mission all along. Bravo and Alpha team should be working in unison. But even after all that’s been said, Marek couldn’t bring himself to approve of Sadie’s leadership. He had given himself until the end of the chess game to present his case for being Vanguard to Law, and instead got sucked into the game. Dumped all his brain power into winning.
“I still don’t think Sadie is the best choice for Vanguard.” The chess game was over, but Marek’s resolve wouldn’t let up until he got a definite no.
“And I didn’t think you’d drop the ball on Dragon’s Throat,” Law answered, his tone neutral.
“She’s reckless. She’s the reason Dragon’s Throat went awry.”
Law held up a halting hand. “A leader accepts the faults of those he commands. If one of your team members acted out of line, it is because you didn’t fully prep them.”
“She can’t be prepped!” Marek shouted.
Law sat silently, waiting for Marek to settle down. He placed The Art of War on the desk behind him, and then scooted the end table holding the chess board closer to the wall. These two actions were usually reserved for the moment after Marek stood from his chair. It seemed Marek had outstayed his welcome. “I apologize for my outburst,” he said.
“You’re passionate. You always have been. It’s the reason you and Sadie clash so much. I used to be the same way.” He rubbed the faded scar on his cheek, his eyes shutting to a memory only he knew. “There’s a totem pole for a reason,” he said, dropping his hand and opening his eyes. “It’s to facilitate competition and kee
p us sharp. Perform well on Laced Rain, and perhaps you’ll find yourself leading the next mission.”
Marek stood and accepted Law’s hand. They shook. “I’ll support the Vanguard in all my capacity.”
“Atta boy. Utilize your training. Are you on recognizance today?”
Marek nodded.
“Taking Zee?”
“Nah, she’s busy formulating the bacteria with Victoria. Think I might take Ivan, though. See how proficient he is in drone surveillance.”
Law walked Marek to the door. “Consider today’s passage and what I said about omitting resistance to Sadie’s plan. Group cohesion plays a big role in the effectiveness of any organization.”
Like a band taking the stage. “During Zyta’s birthday, when we were all gathered in the garage, you mentioned that C3U was part of this worldly band. That we all play our own instruments and come together as an orchestra.”
Law nodded.
“But no one here plays music. There’s not a single instrument, and none of us owns a radio.”
Law smiled, then considered the scar on his hand. A soft chuckle followed. Then a sniffle, and a grumbly hughh as he cleared his throat. He patted Marek’s shoulder. “Focus on the mission,” he said, and shut the office door.
And what are your scars from? Marek wanted to ask, but then remembered it wasn’t any of his business. If Law wanted him to know, he’d know.
Marek entered the shooting range. The room was great in length but short, and imperfect with scattered support pillars throughout. It used to be a storage area for files, back when information was printed on papers instead of hard drives. As a kid, Marek would run back and forth between the old filing cabinets and what is now Law’s office, fetching and returning folders to be uploaded to their new digital database. Thinking about performing such a task now, at the age of 23, was cringeworthy. But at the time everything was fun. A game, he could almost hear his childhood-self saying.
The ceiling lights flickered on as sensors registered his presence. Ten paces to his right was an array of sniper rifles, their bipods extended so that all he had to do was lie down, grip the rifle’s handle, and take aim. The holographic targets down range would come to life as the retina scanner in the rifle’s scope confirmed Marek’s DNA. Simulated wind would sweep over the range. Harsh weather conditions added a splash effect to the rifle’s sight. After the shooting session, his overall accuracy and hit count would be uploaded to C3U’s database; a way to keep track of the best sharp shooter, a title Marek currently held. At least with the sniper rifle.
Twenty paces ahead sat a rack of assault rifles, outfitted with ACOG reticles. These, like the snipers, scanned the user’s retina before simulating a blend of either rural, suburban, or urban scenery. The shooter could either approach their target or rotate between the few authentic sandbags as they engaged.
The third and last area of the shooting range was dedicated to close-quarters combat. Pistols, submachine guns, and shotguns rested on a rack thirty paces to Marek’s left. Each weapon was equipped with a print reader, and operatives could sign-out two at a time. In fact, dual weaponry was encouraged, along with two-operator teams for clearing the small, multiroom chalet. Inside, they’d find holographic enemies armed to the teeth with explosives, shotguns, and submachine guns. It wasn’t rare for users to finish with registered injuries. Sadie and Kyle currently held the record for fastest and most effective.
Marek refrained from picking up a sniper rifle. There were more important things to do, like asking his sister if a final bacterial dosage for Laced Rain had been agreed upon. People were going to get sick, no matter what. That was the mission’s entire purpose. But how sick? And how many? Would there be enough vacant slots in hospital emergency rooms? Or would those infected only feel flu-like symptoms and wait to be seen by their primary care physicians? If the latter was the case, would it be too little for congress to pass a law for cleaner water supplies?
Marek took the steps two at a time as he ascended the staircase. He entered the briefing room moments later. Ivan stood behind two members from Alpha squad who were seated at the long table, a tablet held between them. “Ivan, prep your drone for surveillance, we’re leaving in five.”
“Yes, sir,” Ivan said, the other two giving Marek a quick glance.
Marek left the briefing room and entered the physical combat and hand-to-hand training area. It was similarly shaped like the shooting range, but not as lengthy. Heavy bags, crazy bags, free weights and rolling mats filled most the space. At the far end, where the holographic targets would be downstairs, was the command center; the place Yolanda could be found 90% of the time. In the corner, above Law’s office, was the medical center; Zyta’s domain, along with Victoria’s, C3U’s last-generation medical expert.
One of the room’s many pillars had obscured the sight of Sadie and Kyle near the dumbbell rack. They were working on shoulders, Sadie holding two different sized weights in each hand. Marek got the idea they cut their set short when spotting him through the wall-mirror.
“Did you get the briefing notice?” Kyle asked, his huge block-teeth shining with self-satisfaction.
Sadie rolled her neck and wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was her weakened arm, the protective gauze pad showing beneath the strap of her tank top.
“No, what notice?” Marek asked.
“I’m gathering everyone directly involved with Laced Rain to go over assignments and rules of engagement,” Sadie said, a glimpse of a grimace penetrating her mask of invincibility as she lowered her arm. “That includes Alpha, and you and Ivan from Bravo.”
“What? Zyta’s making the serum, and Eduardo always deploys to the field. How are they not included? And leaving out Yolanda is just plain stupid.”
Kyle stepped forward. “You wanna watch your tone when speaking to the senior operative of this mission.”
So much for dissimulation, Marek thought. “Kyle, two of you wouldn’t be worth a single synapse in Zyta’s mind.” Marek turned on Sadie next. “And you, barely able to lift a fifteen-pound dumbbell.”
“I’m recovering at a rate twice as fast as the average person,” Sadie said, her cheeks flushing to match her red hair.
“Thanks to Victoria’s recovery serum,” Marek said.
“At least she can shoot on the move, unlike you,” Kyle spat.
The remark burned. Sadie registered Marek’s reaction, the rage in her amber eyes dissipating. Marek would lose this round if he didn’t think of something that would cut them to the core. Divide them. “It doesn’t matter how much healing serum you take, or how much testosterone you inject, you’ll never be able to lift the same sized dumbbell as your dumbass lapdog.”
Kyle, taken by surprise, turned back to Sadie, his head kind of shaking back and forth as if to deny that he was in any way better than his leader. The orange of Sadie’s hair and eyebrows paled in comparison to the blood rushing beneath her cheeks. Vein’s pulsed at her temples. The cables in her neck bulged, on the verge of snapping. She lunged at Marek.
And so did Kyle. But to Marek’s surprise, Kyle had jumped forward to stop Sadie. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pinning them in a bearhug. “He’s trying to make you blow it, get kicked off Vanguard.”
Sadie thrashed around in his grip, thrusting her elbows into Kyle’s gut. But he held on.
“What the hell is going on out here?” It was Zyta. She had left the medical center and was holding a box of supplies, Victoria beside her.
“Just some friendly competition,” Kyle said.
“Doesn’t look too friendly,” Victoria said, her voice dulled by a respirator. She peeled off her nylon gloves. “Follow me, Sadie, I’ll check on your wound.”
Sadie glanced down at her gauze dressing. Small red specks were slowly sprouting. “You’re lucky I’m not one-hundred percent,” she said to Marek.
Marek held his tongue as Sadie walked away, Kyle on her heels. “Can I get some more of those pain pills?” Sadie asked as the
y disappeared into the medical center.”
“That was stupid,” Zyta said. And she was right. If Law saw any of that… “You know what happens if there’s a fight within C3U.” Suspension, and possible demotion from squad leader… “Then neither of you will be Vanguard.”
“You’re right. I’m not focused. We’re going to recon Laced Rain in a few minutes. Which reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about bacterial potency.”
Zyta stuck out her lower lip and blew at her bangs. “We’re still crunching some numbers. We have to consider the length of the river, the square area of the spillage zone, as well as the bacteria’s effect on wild life.” She scratched her head. “I’m outfitting the medical van with supplies. I think we’ll need some on-the-job inventory.”
“Good call,” Marek said, omitting Sadie’s intention of restricting Zyta to base. “I’m heading out with Ivan. I’ll see you later.”
Marek entered the armory. Every gun on the shooting range could be found hanging on two of the four walls. The other half of the room was dedicated to different gadgets: Micro Ear Transmitters for communication, auto-adjusting night-vision contact lenses, Telekinetic Voltage Amplifiers that could fry electrical circuits, and Untraceable Uplink Cords to obscure the signal of computational devices. And then came the different explosives.
Incendiary, stun, smoke, impact, and frag grenades. C4 explosives, limpet mines, and anti-vehicle mines. Remote-detonated or laser-wire actuated, and with enough destructive power to “Bring down the whole C3U building,” as Eduardo liked to joke.
Marek picked up an MET and a small 6-round Beretta. He doubted the need of a weapon, but doubt wasn’t part of protocol.
Back at the briefing room, Marek asked the Alpha members if they knew where Ivan went. “Haven’t seen him since you told him to get ready.”
“Tell him to locate my position via GPS,” Marek said.
He brought a change of clothes—those of a water inspector—and left the garage in a black coupe. He rolled down the window and turned up the radio. City traffic was slow moving (the blast area of Dragon’s Throat was still under reconstruction), but the roads opened up as he entered the suburbs. He cruised for half an hour before reaching Red River, ground zero for Laced Rain.