by T. C. Edge
“So…anyone had any thoughts,” he asked. It was a stupid question, but a start.
“Thoughts?” murmured Tanner, unusually sombre.
“Yes. On…what to do next?”
“Ragan, if you don’t know, I’m damned if I do,” said Tanner. He shook his head and turned away.
Ragan’s eyes went to Nadia. She shrugged.
“I guess we head back to base,” she said. “We’ve got no trail on where Mikel went, so there’s little we can do from here. We could probably use Colonel Slattery’s help right now. I know you wanted to finish the job on your own, Ragan, but things have changed now. There’s nothing we can do from here.”
Ragan nodded, though reluctantly. He didn’t particularly like admitting defeat like this, but Nadia was right. They’d reached a dead-end in the chase, led there by Mikel. As much as he hated the thought, they had to regroup. And no doubt Slattery would take Ragan straight off the case for his second failure, and second insubordination.
Returning to base, in fact, might just be an admission that it was all over. As Tanner had told him that morning, Slattery wouldn’t trust him any longer. He’d eroded that trust, abused it. He’d tried to do it all himself, and now he was paying the price.
His head started to hang at the thought. No, he needed to lift it. He needed to stay strong. He drew a breath and nodded.
“You’re probably right,” he said. “I’m…sorry for leading you into this mess. I’ll assume full responsibility for what happened. None of you have to…”
“Hell no.” It was Tanner, turning back to Ragan. He stood, suddenly, as he spoke. “Ragan, we came down here as a team, and we’ll take the heat as a team too. Mikel fooled us all, not just you. And if Slattery wants to hang you out to dry for this one…well, I ain’t having it.”
Ragan smiled.
“I appreciate it, Cliff. But, this is my fault. I’ve made some bad calls, and I need to face up to it.”
“What bad calls?” asked Chloe, her voice firm, eyes equally so. “Ragan, we were set up, remember. Martha did all of this, that treacherous snake. And you were the one to work that out.”
“But I didn’t call it in to Colonel Slattery,” said Ragan, his voice weaker, more vulnerable, than normal. “I should have done. He’d have sent soldiers to support us, and Mikel wouldn’t have had any chance of getting away.”
“Yeah, you might have done that,” said Chloe. “But, you were afraid, just like all of us, that there might be another mole back at base…”
“No,” said Ragan shaking his head. He was falling to self-reproach again. “I wanted to complete the mission myself, without Slattery’s help. I was foolish, and egotistical, and…”
“And nothing,” cut in Chloe. “You made a decision, one that could have gone either way. We had no idea who we could trust, so we decided to just trust each other. Don’t second guess your decisions, Ragan. Mikel duped us all with that grenade. Hell, he convinced me he was genuine. I was the one who thought I’d got him to come around, remember. So I’m just as much as to blame as anyone, maybe more…”
“I’ll throw my hat in that ring,” interrupted Tanner. “That goddamn freak got under my skin, made me lose my cool. If I hadn’t, things would have gone different.”
“Guys…” Nadia’s voice was calm, collected. All eyes turned to her. She stood, wincing at the pain in her arm. “This isn’t going to get us anywhere. It seems everyone wants to take the blame. That’s sweet. It’s nice we all want to make the rest feel better, but it’s a waste of time.” She steadied her eyes over her companions. “I say we go back to base, and face the consequences together. What’s the worst Slattery can do?”
Ragan shrugged.
“He’ll take us off the hunt, relegate us,” he said. “He won’t trust me after this, and if you all take responsibility too, he won’t trust you either.” He shook his head. “This is my fault, my problem. There’s no sense in all of us suffering.”
“Well if that’s the case, then I’m not heading back there,” said Tanner confidently. “I’m not going back just so you, or all of us, can be locked in the damn brig for insubordination. Data or no data, I’m going after Mikel. If Slattery wants to get between that, forget him.”
Ragan raised his eyebrows. Did Tanner have a point? If Ragan truly believed that returning to base would have him grounded, then was that really the best choice?
“We all admire your fervour, Cliff,” said Nadia coolly, almost to the point of mocking. “But we have to be more sensible than that. Sure, this isn’t like the militaries we used to serve, but we still have to obey hierarchy and command. Otherwise we’re just a bunch of rogue agents, doing whatever we want. That’s no way to run operations. Colonel Slattery is our elected leader, and like it or not, he needs to be included.” She winced again, reaching across to her arm. “And aside from that, we need some support here. We can’t keep working alone like this.”
Tanner’s expression displayed a respectful understanding of Nadia’s words, though held a clear undercurrent of denial as well. He had always been a rogue, it was in his blood. Operating beyond the remit of his commanders was something he was rather fond of.
Ragan took Nadia’s opinion on board, and found himself nodding. He needed to forget his personal feelings in retrieving the data, and his personal vendetta against Mikel. He was, perhaps, making the mistake of thinking this mission meant more to him than it did others. That wasn’t the case, he knew. Despite Martha’s betrayal, Project Dawn remained as committed as ever to seeing through their intended purpose, and Colonel Slattery had always been at the centre of that. Could he now deny him, leave the highest ranking member of the Crimson Corps out in the cold? Did Ragan have that right, that authority. Was he really that arrogant?
“Nadia’s right,” he found himself saying. “We have to fall into line. We - I - took a chance. It failed. Now it’s time to make up for it. Whatever that means.”
The group fell silent. Ragan looked to Tanner, clearly displeased with the decision, and then to Nadia, expression placid. Chloe, meanwhile, was staring off to the side, frowning. It looked as though she was looking at Remus, communicating with him.
“This needs to be a group decision, though,” Ragan went on, partly to pacify Tanner. “We judge things as a team from now on.” His words didn’t catch Chloe’s attention. She continued to look distracted, her face seeming to turn more pale. “Chloe…” Ragan said. “What do you think?”
It took a second for Chloe to react, to even hear what Ragan said. She blinked suddenly, as if escaping a dream or some strange spell. She looked over at Ragan, her frown deep, eyes stark.
“I know who those soldiers were who attacked us,” she whispered, her tone grave.
The group perked up.
“Who!” asked Nadia keenly.
“How do you know?” asked Ragan, just as fast.
“Remus just informed me,” Chloe whispered. “I’d been too distracted until now to take it in. He…he recognised some of the men.”
“Recognised?” said Tanner, doubtful. “How could he…”
And then it dawned on them, as if they all came to the realisation at precisely the same moment.
“They were from the base,” whispered Ragan. “Soldiers from the Crimson Corps.”
They all looked at Chloe for confirmation. She was nodding.
“But…how? They were all dressed in combat gear and helmets,” asked Tanner, still incredulous at the thought. “How could Remus know?”
“Remus recognised their gait, body proportions, shape, movement,” said Chloe. “He takes in a lot of data. Clearly he’d analysed everyone he saw back at the base, and his data logs flagged up with some of the soldiers who chased us.”
“I guess they were wearing the same combat gear as us,” nodded Nadia. “It’s what we’re issued when on mission.”
“Standard stuff for mercs around here. Lot of soldiers wear the same,” countered Tanner. “Are you sure about this, Chloe? A
re you certain Remus is right?”
Chloe nodded, resolute.
“Remus is always right. This isn’t some regular person thinking they recognise someone by the way they move, or their body shape. This is scientific. It was men from the base, that’s a fact. Though…he doesn’t know exactly who.”
“Captain Quinn,” said Ragan, drawing the eyes of the group. “It would have been him and his unit. He’s Slattery’s preferred commander in the field.”
The consequences of the reveal seemed to be dawning on the group. Their jaws were slightly open, eyes wide, heads shaking in continued disbelief.
“Why the hell would Slattery send out a team to kill us?” questioned Tanner. “Sure, we were out of contact for a day or so…but this is a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”
“Guess he thinks we’ve gone rogue or something,” suggested Nadia. “I mean, think of it from his perspective. We go dark, shut off the transponder so he can’t track us in the falcon. Who knows, he may have sent a team to Devil’s Pike to investigate. If they found out that we’d taken the money and weapons from the trade, he’d be doubly suspicious. Still, seems an odd move to kill us and not try to take us in.”
Ragan clenched his fists. More than ever, he wished he’d called it in.
Damn you, Ragan, he growled to himself, internally. You’ve royally screwed this up…
“Right, but how did they track us exactly?” asked Tanner. “They knew exactly where we were. I thought all possible ways of finding us were deactivated?”
Ragan felt his heart lurch at the question, his insides constrict. Did they have another way of tracking them? The group shared uneasy looks, feeling suddenly unsafe. But it was fine up here in the clouds, the falcon cloaked as it was…wasn’t it?
A sudden beeping sound spread from the cockpit. An alarm, starting quiet and blaring louder with each beep, like a screaming child demanding attention. All eyes turned immediately to the front of the plane. All four were straight onto their feet, rushing through the jet, down the short passage, and into the cockpit.
Tanner swept into the pilot’s seat, tapping at a few dials and buttons. On a central screen, a simple satellite map came into view, showing their location. And not far away, another light was blinking.
And it was closing fast.
58
“We’ve got company,” said Tanner, turning the jet quickly off auto-pilot and taking the controls. Ragan slipped into the seat next to him. Tanner glanced back at Chloe and Nadia. “You girls best get strapped in. This isn’t going to be a pleasant ride.”
Chloe and Nadia rushed down the passage, locking themselves into their harnesses. The beeping got louder, more aggressive, until suddenly it shut down, Ragan slamming a hand onto the controls to end the racket.
He looked over at Tanner.
“It’s gotta be Quinn,” he said. “They’ve tracked us again somehow.”
Tanner took a breath, setting the falcon into forward motion, and immediately banking hard to the left. The jet turned with a burst of noise from the thrusters, the blinking light on the map approaching fast.
Suddenly, a new alarm blared. A different sound, more manic. A series of shorter beeps following each other in quick succession, growing quicker with each passing note.
The two men looked at the screen.
“Shit,” growled Tanner. A small line was headed their way, stretching quickly from the blinking light that chased them. “They’ve fired on us. Hold on.”
He turned the wheel again, the jet curving suddenly right, and up, shooting up into the heavens. The clouds were thickening, growing heavy with rain. From several huge cloud formations, jagged bolts of lightning shot, illuminating the darkened skies.
They barely noticed the booming thunder that followed, not over the roaring engine. The line on the screen continued to follow, turning as they did, chasing them down. The beeping alarm grew more frantic, each sound growing so close until they came together as one, becoming a single, unending note.
“Hold on tight,” roared Tanner, voice carrying over the din. He turned again, swerving left and down this time, forcing the pursuing missile to change course. “Ragan, activate countermeasures. On my command.”
Ragan reached forward, activating the falcon’s defensive systems. His hand waited patiently, still as an oak tree, above a red switch.
“Ready,” he said.
Tanner’s eyes were keen, staring into the dark abyss ahead. He continued to swerve through the clouds, seeking spaces between thicker patches. Up, down, left and right he went, Ragan’s insides thrown off into all directions. He spared a thought for Chloe in the back, unused to this sort of aggressive change in motion, direction, and velocity. But he didn’t look back, eyes darting from screen to windshield, watching the world rushing by one minute, then checking the position of the chasing missile, and aircraft, the next.
The missile was getting near, faster than the falcon over short distances, and more manoeuvrable too. Tanner swerved up once more, seeking a longer stretch of clear air. The falcon burst from a thick mass of condensed vapour, the windshield splashed with a spray of water. The jet straightened, holding its form. The missile was getting close.
Tanner’s eyes flashed on the screen. The alarm was a constant whine now, reaching a deafening pitch. His eyes narrowed; Ragan’s hand hovered. And then Tanner shouted.
“Now!”
Ragan’s hand slammed down on the switch, releasing a small, defensive missile from the rear of the jet. Tanner needed to wait for the chasing missile to get close before giving the order, making sure it locked on. It was one of several countermeasures available to the falcon, and could be the most effective when used right. It required timing, and bravery, but would always hit its mark.
The much smaller missile shot from the jet, seeking the heat given off by the approaching missile’s combustion. It was close enough now that the two collided only a second or so after release, meeting with a sudden explosion that ripped through the nearest clouds, vaporising mist and rain alike. The force of the blast spread quickly, causing a shudder to ripple through the jet. Ragan felt his fingers digging into his armrests, knuckles white.
Then, the shudder ended abruptly, and the roar of the storm, and engines, replaced it. The falcon continued to shoot off, Tanner now swerving violently to the left in a steep bank. Ragan took a breath, brows bunching as the plane turned on its side, the world upending. The force of the motion was extremely unpleasant, the pressure quickly building in Ragan’s head.
This time, he did look back at Chloe. She was locked into the back of her seat, eyes shut tight, holding Remus protectively in her hands. Nadia was sparing her a look as well, lips moving, seemingly talking her through it.
“Cliff…” Ragan managed to grunt. “What are you doing!”
Tanner seemed the least affected. He had more experience than most in jets of such speed, and his natural penchant for dare-devilry had made such unpleasant aerial acrobatics more commonplace for him. Squinting, he turned his eyes back to the screen. Ragan followed his gaze, and noted that he was trying to outmanoeuvre their pursuer. He was trying to get behind them.
Suddenly, the alarm started to cry out again, another missile shot. No…two this time, one following quickly after the other! It was a counter to their first countermeasure, making the use of the anti-missile option impossible. They wouldn’t have time to fire at the head missile, and then lock onto the next before it hit.
Tanner’s face didn’t show surprise or concern at the sight. He was in his element, born for such combat. He swerved several more times, changing direction, attempting to force the chasing missiles to fly near enough to each other to become a single threat.
“Flare, Ragan,” Tanner called.
Ragan immediately turned his attention back to the defensive panel ahead of him. He altered the settings.
“Ready!” he shouted.
Tanner continued to fly wildly, though with precision and control. He w
as capable of pushing the falcon to its absolute limits, maximising its ability to change course quickly without losing speed or stalling. In other hands, such aggressive manoeuvres wouldn’t work.
The g-force, however, was becoming unbearable. Ragan’s head felt like it was going to explode, his vision starting to form into a tunnel, his peripheral sight darkening. He blinked hard, trying to hold off the effects, as the jet lifted suddenly, then swerved sharply to the right, avoiding a series of white shards of lightning cutting from a thick patch of black cloud above.
“Hold yourself together,” Tanner called through a grimace, noticing Ragan’s discomfort. “Don’t you pass out on me!”
He levelled out, as if to give his co-pilot some respite. Ragan heaved a quick breath into his lungs, as if he wouldn’t get another chance, and glanced back to see that Chloe’s arms were now hanging loose, her head rolled to one side of her neck. His eyes sharpened and grew strained. Nadia, sitting next to her, was holding on for dear life, eyes tightly shut as she tried not to pass out.
“She’ll be fine, Ragan,” said Tanner. “She’s just lost consciousness. Now eyes front, soldier!”
Ragan, by force of habit, snapped his head back forward, his head still muddy but beginning to recover. The missiles were now closing fast. Ragan could suddenly hear the wailing alarm again in his ears, forgotten for a moment as his senses took a brief hiatus. It was a single note, a horrible din. He glanced to the screen and saw the missiles approaching, closer together now. Tanner’s skilled manoeuvres had somehow worked.
“When I tell you, release the flare,” Tanner shouted, voice controlled. He was almost like a different person in this state. Focused, face grim, not a note of humour about him.
The jet continued in a straight course, working through a thin patch of grey cloud and bursting into a clearer space ahead. Ragan’s hand hovered, shaking a little now. His eyes went from the screen, to Tanner, and back again.
“Now!”
He flicked the switch, and the flare was loosed. It flew back from the jet in a slight arch, the incoming missiles heading straight for it. As they drew near, the flare suddenly exploded like a firework, a beautiful pyrotechnic display, creating a mist of flak. The first missile punched through, but didn’t get far. It detonated as it burrowed into the fog, causing another rumble to shudder. The second followed a moment later, both missiles dealt with.