Soul Raging

by Ronie Kendig

  “That’s what I wanted to hear.” Manche cocked his head toward the rear of the bunker. “Admiral Braun will remain in custody for now, but she does have credible intel regarding the Armageddon Coalition that I think we need to act on.”

  “Any idea why she killed Nesto?”

  “A few,” Manche said. “You’re all intelligent individuals, or you wouldn’t have been assigned to this team. Therefore, I’m sure you’ve considered that Colonel Nesto was likely compromised, and—as has been evidenced today—Braun probably was, too. So we move forward with intel carrying the direct expectation that it’s a risk, a potentially lethal one. And while I am confident in your abilities, in light of Braun’s actions, contingencies are vital to protect the mission and our personnel.” He nodded to the operators. “Meet my contingency.”

  Leif appreciated the planning but . . . “Contingency how?”

  “We’ll get to that in a minute.”

  “And the intel?”

  “Glad you asked.” Manche smirked. “It seems ArC has been ramping up a program they intend to switch on within the next twenty-four hours. We believe it’s why things have escalated so fast in the last week.”

  Mercy leaned in. “A program?”

  “Yes, Miss Maddox, one that is most likely right up your hacking-loving alley, and we intend for you to be heavily involved in the disruption of this program.”

  “This is why Dru had us in London?”

  Manche seemed impressed. “Indeed.”

  She sat a little straighter, her attitude toward the admiral shifting. “What does the program do?”

  “It’s the proverbial switch they’re throwing on restructuring economic delivery across Africa, Southeast Asia, the Balkans, and parts of Europe. Without this program, nobody will be able to purchase so much as a stick of gum.”

  “That’s the reason for all the ancillary skirmishes,” Culver suggested.

  “That is correct.”

  “How am I supposed to disrupt this?” Mercy asked, curious, intrigued.

  “That’s the trick of the thing,” Manche admitted. “Since we’re just now getting this intel from Braun and comparing it against our own efforts in Naval intelligence, we can’t answer that yet, but as of five minutes ago, you were given access to secure files about the program, which we’re told has been dubbed Risen.”

  I will rise.

  I will rise.

  I will rise.

  The trigger phrase for the Neiothen. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “Sir.” Leif ran a hand over his mouth. “What about the Neiothen and the newer super soldiers?”

  “Gen2s,” Manche said with a nod, then looked to Iskra. “They’re part of the army ArC is building to protect and enforce this economic system. Your brother did us a favor on that boat. His team killed several in an all-out brawl. There is no avoiding the new models when we go up against ArC, so knowing your enemy is your best defense. Since we have limited intel on them, we’ll be dissecting them, too. Veratti can pull the trigger on the program, but the soldiers take time. And thank the Lord he isn’t some white-haired wizard with a legion of orcs at his whim.” His gaze hit Mercy’s. “See? You’re not the only one who can make superhero analogies.”

  With a smirk of her own, Mercy winged up an eyebrow. “You’re referencing Tolkien. That’s not superheroes.”

  “My ten-year-old son would beg to differ,” Manche said.

  “Sir,” Leif said, “I want to be sure you’re aware that Iskra’s daughter has been taken captive by a woman likely connected to ArC.”

  “Wilhelmina Schultz,” the admiral announced, then lifted a shoulder almost in a shrug, “according to Braun.”

  Leif started. “She knew about that?”

  “Alene didn’t have proof, but since Schultz was involved, that was her guess.” Manche nodded. “Alene Braun is under suspicion for treason, but she will not speak to her loyalty or justifications for the murder of Nesto. At this point in the game, however, we cannot afford to just disregard her credible intel.”

  “Credible intel—it’s been vetted, then?” Leif asked.

  “As best as possible. Everything she says is going through multiple layers of fact-checking.” Manche returned to his seat. “Most of the intel, though, is lining up with HUMINT, SATINT, and SIGINT. It’s why I’m here and why a plan is being put in place to hit ArC and take down that program.” His gaze landed on Iskra. “And save an innocent child.”

  “Hit ArC,” Leif repeated. “We have a location or person in mind?”

  “COMINT has revealed a significant attention around 26 July for Risen to rise, if you’ll pardon the bad pun.” Manche gave a grim smile. “For those at this table, the location is rather poetic.”

  That was ominous. Poetry and combat didn’t mix well.

  “The Pearl of the Antilles.”

  “Guantanamo.” Leif side-eyed Iskra, recalling their standoff at the secret facility, her diving into the choppy sea. “Since Braun was a joint chief, how deep is the contamination among the military?”

  “No telling.”

  “Contingencies,” Leif muttered.

  “You read my mind, Chief.” Manche placed his hands on the table. “There’s a facility a short distance from the Pearl.” He nodded around the table. “You’ve been there. That’s where we need to go. We have an insertion plan for Reaper. However, if Reaper fails, these operators”—he nodded to the newcomers—“will be in place to blow the facility.”

  “With or without us in it?” Culver asked.

  “Whatever needs to happen in order to prevent Risen from going online,” Manche said, narrowing his eyes. “Get this straight, Reaper—you have your chance for vengeance and redemption, but the bigger priority is stopping the coalition. If they succeed, our planet will be plunged into a terrific economic crisis that we’re not sure we can come back from.”

  Mutterings skittered around the room, uncomfortable with the plan and the contingency, but also understanding it.

  “Are you referring to the facility beneath that installation?” Iskra asked quietly.

  Manche gave her a long, hard look. “How do you know about that?”

  Iskra glanced at Leif, who nodded for her to explain. “When looking for the Book of the Wars recently, I believed the person who took it from the lab did not leave the facility. So I returned and dived, convinced the book had not left the facility either.”

  Jaw muscle bouncing, Manche stared at her. If he meant to intimidate Iskra, it wasn’t working. Maybe he didn’t understand her background. She’d faced down worse.

  The admiral punched to his feet. “Chief, a word?”

  Feeling the need to reassure Iskra, Leif touched her shoulder as he slid around the chair. The waters they were navigating were tricky and dangerous, with way too many questions regarding who was friend and who was foe. He had to admit he hated the idea of returning to the Pearl. The sea had almost taken his life and Iskra’s. What if this time it succeeded?

  The new operators seemed to enhance that danger, promising that failure meant death.

  THIRTY-TWO

  REAPER HEADQUARTERS, MARYLAND

  It had been an hour since Leif and Manche had gone into Iliescu’s office and shut the door. Though Mercy and Cell discussed ArC’s economic program and how to best disrupt it, Iskra felt useless. So she pulled up a map of the naval base in Cuba.

  “You okay?” Culver asked from across the table.

  Her gaze automatically hit the door where the admiral was talking with Leif. “My daughter is missing, and he’s concerned about my loyalty.”

  Culver frowned. “Didn’t hear him say that.”

  “We both know that conversation is about me.”

  “Not sure it is,” Culver said. “Think about what Leif’s done and what’s been done to him—he’s a Neiothen. If anyone’s suspect, it’s him. How do we know that chip in his head hasn’t been reactivated? Where are the other Neiothen who hit this bunker with him?”

>   “You mean my brother?” Iskra swiveled to face him, forcing herself to remain calm. “He and the ones who saved me from the Gen2s are in custody. We do not know that any others are still alive. Or are you doubting Leif’s loyalty?”

  “You’re not hearing me.”

  “I’m hearing quite well,” she countered. “You just questioned whether he has been reactivated.” She rested her arms on the table. “You called him a Neiothen. Do you think his being here is a ploy, a tactic of ArC?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t.” He squinted. “Do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why’d you say it?” He cocked his head like someone racking the slide of a gun. “Let’s not put words in each other’s mouths. I’m not an enemy. I was just trying to get you to see that, if you look around, we can have doubts about a lot of the members here. But it’s not worth it. You want your girl back.”

  Iskra drew up a little at the reminder.

  “We want her back, too.” Culver held her gaze firmly. “Because she’s the kid of one of our own.”

  Did he really see her like that, one of their own?

  A loud bang cracked through the bunker.

  Reaper responded, reaching for weapons as they turned toward the noise.

  Eyes full of fire and fury, Leif stalked toward them, the door behind him rebounding off his attempt to slam it. “Cell, put it up there.” He pointed to the wall monitors, and his gaze met Iskra’s. “We’ll get her back.”

  What? His dark tone scared her. Made her stand, her pulse ratchet. At his side, she looked up as the little arrow icon on the screen hit PLAY.

  Iskra was not prepared for what she saw. She recoiled, hand going to her mouth. Tears stinging her eyes. The video showed Taissia sitting in an empty room, hugging her knees and wailing.

  “Hello, kotyonok.” Bogdashka slid in front of the camera, the one-way glass behind her all that separated the witch from Taissia. “It was very kind of you to bring me your little girl. You could not have timed it more perfectly.”

  “It’s her,” Mercy whispered. “It’s Mina.”

  “Where did this come from?” Culver asked, frowning. “It’s to Iskra, but you got it?”

  “She sent it to me,” Alisz quietly admitted, “and I gave it to the admiral, so everyone here would know I’m not working for them.”

  “Aren’t you, if they’re communicating with you?” Culver challenged.

  “Focus, people,” Leif said.

  “You will not come after her,” Bogdashka continued. “Taissia will stay safe if you do as I say. If you do not . . . well, you know how I handle disappointments.”

  Swallowing a sob, Iskra shook her head, wanting to find comfort in Leif’s arms. Trying to listen past her drumming heart.

  “Do not attempt to stop Risen or the Gen2s. What I ask is a small thing, a pittance compared to the life of your precious daughter, your love child with Valery, yes?” Bogdashka moved out of view, then reappeared in the room beside Taissia. “You will be a good girl, won’t you?”

  “Leave me alone!” her daughter screamed, tightening in on herself. “I want my mommy!”

  Bereft, Iskra cupped her hands over her mouth.

  “I have been very patient, kotyonok.”

  Recognizing the words, the threat that hung in the air after them, she choked out a sob. “No,” she whispered, clenching her fists as Bogdashka reached toward Taissia.

  Terror scratched her daughter’s face and fed a survival reaction that made her kick and scream.

  Anger tumbled through Iskra. “No,” she ground out. “Touch her and I will kill you.”

  But Bogdashka could not hear, and it did not matter. The old woman knew what Iskra would do to her. Knew what she was capable of doing.

  “I will have to teach you how to behave,” Bogdashka intoned.

  “No!” Mercy gasped, turning away.

  Iskra refused to hide. Instead, she watched—memorized—Bogdashka sliding a needle into Taissia’s thigh. Too familiar was the sting of that needle so many times in her own leg. She replayed it over in her head, vowing that Bogdashka had made her choice. Her choice to die.

  “Iskra.” Leif’s voice was heavy with anger that mirrored her own. He turned to her. Caught her shoulders. “We’ll get her back. This woman—”

  She wrested free. “No.”

  He frowned.

  Iskra knew what to do, what must be done. With or without them. She looked at the admiral. “You said they are at the Pearl?”

  Manche considered Leif, then her, but didn’t answer.

  Leif angled around. “Listen to me.”

  “I defy you to say anything that will alter my course!”

  “Tell them about the implant,” Manche said, his tone flat.

  Leif glanced down and to the side, as if unwilling to face the admiral or what he’d said. But it wasn’t Leif the admiral was speaking to.

  Mercy straightened, arms unfolding and falling to her sides. “I . . .”

  “Go on,” Manche barked. “It needs to be out in the open.”

  Mercy’s cheek twitched. “When I was tracking the Neiothen RFIDs, I detected two signals here in the hub.” She again crossed her arms, hugging herself. “I’ve confirmed that both of them were operational, but one was at a lower intensity.” She chewed her lip. “It still is.”

  “Meaning?” Leif growled.

  “Are you sure?” Cell asked, inching in.

  “I’ve checked it every hour,” Mercy said, her expression sorrowful. “I’m sorry, Leif, but your chip isn’t inactive. There are moments where its receptivity is low for a short period, but it’s strong for a lot longer.”

  “I knew that was a possibility—we all did,” Leif said with a sigh. Then his expression changed. Hardened. “Wait. You went over my head to Manche about this. So you think I’ve been turned? Is that it? You think I’m a Neiothen, that I’m just playing you?” He seemed ready to blow.

  “No,” Mercy said, her ache evident in her contorted features. “But—”

  “You said two.” Leif’s thoughts seemed to bounce from one thread to another. “Two signals. Who was the other?”

  “There’s . . . only one now.” She shrugged. “The second must’ve been Nesto.”

  “His death was confirmed ten minutes ago,” Manche said.

  “Un-freakin’-believable,” Leif growled.

  The nightmares just would not stop. Iskra ached, watching him discover that he might still be at the mercy of Veratti. His anger was raw and primal, mirroring what Iskra felt toward Bogdashka.

  “She did the right thing,” Manche said, his voice vibrating. “She detected a problem and reported it just as she should.” He looked at the team.

  “Agreed,” Leif said miserably with a nod to Mercy. “Good job.”

  Mercy gave him a sorrowful, apologetic shrug, her mouth twisted with sadness.

  “You’re all heading to the Pearl,” Manche barked. “But I need everyone in this room to understand: there is no way to know if the chief here is going to shoot them or you.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  USCGC SENECA, GUANTANAMO BAY, CUBA

  No matter what he did or tried, he posed a threat to those he loved.

  The realization corkscrewed through Leif, twisting his gut and thoughts. No way he’d let Reaper go to the Pearl without him. But he had to admit, it scared him, knowing this thing in his head was still receptive to influence. To Veratti.

  Their lack of knowledge about the implant’s function created more questions—what was its purpose? To trigger the past? To activate what he’d been trained to do? Obviously it wasn’t mind control in the truest sense, and that was the only reason Manche signed off on Leif being tasked to this mission with the stipulation that Reaper knew the truth and danger. The admiral had used more than a few colorful words about how they’d put Leif down if he fell out of line. There was also supposition that maybe the facility’s depth would make triggering him more difficult or less likely.
Maybe both.

  “You okay?”

  Leif glanced at his older brother, who’d be monitoring from topside. It was weird to see him here in the bunker. “Yeah.”

  “Knew you would be.” Canyon’s unwavering belief shouldn’t surprise Leif, yet it did.

  “Does Mom—”

  “Think you’re a thickheaded lout? Of course. You’re a Metcalfe.”

  With a smile he didn’t feel, Leif nodded—his appreciation for Canyon keeping this between them, and for the familial ties that conveyed a lot without having to speak it. “Glad you’re here.”

  Canyon grinned. “Wouldn’t miss an op in the ocean.”

  It was nice being back on the water, this time aboard the U.S. Coast Guard Seneca, a medium endurance–class cutter, which headed away from the base and churned through the bay at a leisurely pace that belied the frenzy aboard. The slow crawl was crucial to allow the team time to get prepped and to convey the appearance of a routine patrol, not a race-to-the-finish mission to stop Ciro Veratti.

  The last thing they needed was to tip off ArC, but for all they knew, the captain of the Seneca could be an ArC operative who’d already notified the underground facility of their intent and approach.

  “Kind of strange,” Iskra said as she tucked her arms into a neoprene dive suit, “being back here. With you. On the water.”

  “Better than in the water like last time.” He glanced across the deck to where Andreas, Vega, Gilliam, and Huber were gearing up as well. Elvestad, Leif had learned, had died the same night Dru had, killed by the Gen2s. Manche had pulled in more than a few favors to get the Neiothen back in play. Especially Andreas, since he had more knowledge about the implant than any of them, as well as intel on the Gen2s. Not to mention his effectiveness against the latter.

  “This is unbelievable,” Culver complained as he helped Saito safety-check his dive equipment. “I could take every one of you every day of the year with all my limbs missing, and they sideline me for what amounts to a mosquito bite.”

  “The gunshot was close to your heart,” Canyon noted from the Command station set up on deck.

  “If he has one.” Saito clicked his tongue. “Man, stop complaining and get healed so I don’t have to keep doing all your work for you.” He reviewed his weapons, the cartridges, and the round in the chamber. Though the weapons would work in the water, they’d have to chamber a round each time they fired.