She needed to recover at least a little recognition from him.
Michelle put her elbow on the table and slid the tip of her finger into her mouth to exaggerate her frown. "You're just going to leave me here, all alone?"
He stalled for a second, grasping for an answer out of his thick head, then she could see a light bulb go off in his expression. "Well, you're cleared, an' all this is about yer best buddy. You could come. See us in a little action. Maybe see your techno Ranger buddy's expression when I show up with my platoon, all armed-up, to grab him."
She reached down and slid her shoes back on under the table. "I'm all yours."
Maybe she could text the Agency about this when Schnier was distracted with getting his men organized.
What had Sam gotten himself into this time?
Chapter Seventeen: It All Comes Falling Down
How would Doctor Yang Hyo-jin handle recent events? I took a deep breath. Could I rely on her?
Made a semi-futile attempt to slow my own heartbeat.
I'd left my commandeered cleaning materials outside the auxiliary security office door.
Staring at the video screens, I pointed at the pairs of enemy soldiers in brown, orange, and now blue zone. "Doctor, those men on the screens are hunting us right now. We must stop them before they find us, but I can't do it alone. Need you to keep an eye on the security monitors here. Let me know what they're doing. Where they're going. Understand?"
She nodded somewhat convincingly. I hoped she'd come through under pressure. Was all I had at the moment.
Her life was on the line as well.
I put my Bluetooth earbud in. Used the desk phone to call my mobile number. After connecting the call, I handed her the desk phone's handset.
Now we had communications.
"Bolt the door behind me. Don't let anyone not in a police or an American Army uniform in."
Didn't think that'd hold any sort of serious attempt for more than a moment, but it may make her feel better about sitting in that little room and staring at the monitors.
Less likely to think about the dead body bagged out on the floor.
Stepping outside, I removed the bleach container from on top of the mop bucket.
Unlocked the rear mantrap by transmitting the captain's RFID number.
Shoved the mop bucket into it.
Closed the door.
The mantrap's internal sensors would detect someone already present and not let anyone else enter. When the bucket never exited, an alarm should show up on the primary security console.
Hopefully, the alert would distract Rhee with explaining to his men why they shouldn't investigate it.
Couldn't all be corrupt.
The ten gallon bleach container was too heavy to carry stealthily around with me, so I parked it next to the mantrap door.
Grasped the mop handle at shoulder width in the middle. Gave it an experimental swing to check the balance.
Headed for the warehouse section.
Need to take care of the enemy pair in brown zone before the pair coming through blue zone reached the Doctor.
If I made enough noise there, the other teams would head that way, ideally coming from the other direction.
Doc told me exactly where the pair went in brown zone.
Kept me updated on the progress of the other two teams.
I'd worked in a warehouse connected to a rail yard and a highway as a teen. Seen my fair share of accidents.
Loaded merchandise on trucks for a regional shipper.
Okay, I'd usually messed with the computerized pick and pack system in the warehouse, not having to do too much loading.
Still had all the safety lectures memorized, though.
Mostly they involved momentum, pallet angles and not ever, upon pain of firing, overloading the rack supports.
After sneaking into brown zone, I crouched between stacks of black and red chemical barrels on pallets in the three-meter aisles.
Decent cover.
They'd been moved off the shelves, blocking this aisle to forklift traffic.
In fact, they had North Korean bricks of C-4 taped to them, wired for remote detonation.
Maybe this wasn't the ideal location to hide.
No anti-tamper devices were present, so I eased the detonators out of each brick.
Now they'd just make a little bang if triggered, instead of a big one.
Bags of powdered materials and glass containers full of acidic liquids stretched floor to ceiling, held up by pallet shelves resting on thin steel racks.
A sign on the end of the closest rack read in English and Hangul, "Never climb on racks during or after assembly. Storage racks are not designed to be stepped on or climbed on. A slip or fall may result in serious injury."
That's what I needed, serious injuries. "Doctor, can you find me a forklift in this place? In a location not near them?"
"Uh… sure, one moment." A pause while she scanned the brown zone security monitors, "Turn right at the next opening, then left to the end. You'll find one in an open area where the aisles meet."
"Thanks."
I followed her directions, trying to keep my voice to a minimum.
At the end, an electric forklift.
Perfect.
First safety rule: always have an audible warning on a fast-moving, quiet vehicle. I found the speaker and yanked the wire away from it.
No beeping sound to warn the bad guys when I moved around.
Fortunately, the warehouse workers left the little plastic-looking key in it, so I just climbed aboard and experimented a bit with the controls.
Like riding a bike.
Now that I had wheels, I moved faster.
Headed toward the enemy team.
According to my reconnaissance asset, they shuffled materials, with some sort of scientific name which I ignored, toward the loading dock.
That filled their arms with non-weapons.
"Doctor, do you see that forty foot long aisle of warehouse racks full of heavy glass bottles and powdered metal? I need you to tell me when they reach the other end of that."
That aisle was the heaviest section I'd seen. Weight was important.
"Third aisle in?"
"That's the one."
Each vertical structural column on the pallet racking had a 6-inch wide, 42-inch tall lime green column protector. The protectors were made of high-density polyethylene. Held in pairs to the column with reflective straps.
Safety first.
Flipping open a knife on my multi-tool, I slit the straps. Put the column protectors to the side.
They were designed to thwart accidents.
This wouldn't be an accident.
I picked up a solid looking empty pallet with the forks.
Tilted the forks and pallet up a bit.
Set up in the forklift with a slightly angled straightaway facing the heavy section of floor-to-ceiling materials.
With that angle, I was out of sight of the aisle itself, but had a direct run to the end of it.
Considered the potential for collateral damage.
The Doctor and I were the only friendlies in the lab zones. She was safely locked into the security office.
Was confident I could avoid my planned disaster.
The bad guys marked themselves as targets as soon as they killed the security guard.
Everything else was just material goods. Expensive, but not as costly as the loss of life these dudes would cause with stunts like that C-4.
No, just needed to wait for her signal and then execute.
"Now! They're there now!"
One-one-thousand. Two—one-thousand.
Gave the DPRK special ops pair time to reach the middle of the warehouse aisle.
Floored the electric accelerator. Battery-powered motors. Excellent acceleration.
Charged forward.
Crossed the entrance. Three-meter aisle.
Expected them there. Too late to stop my momentum.
Entered their field of view for a split second.
Good reflexes.
Dropped their small boxes. Grabbed at shoulder straps.
Much too late.
Drove the pallet into the front corner of the rack.
The support for this end.
Smack.
Momentum carried me up and forward. Rear-end cleared the seat by six inches.
Everything slowed.
Focus on the closest 24 foot stack of pallet rack shelving.
Each shelf four feet tall. Eight feet wide. Two full pallets supported on each level.
The tons of powdered metal bags above the now bent support collapsed it.
The column no longer resisted weight.
Powdered metal rained down.
Poured across the aisle.
Torn bags floated after the flood.
The falling mass pushed the pallet on my forks down.
Shoved my forklift away from the shelving.
Lifted rear wheels off the ground.
I slammed the steering column lever.
Forklift into reverse. Forks angled down.
Dropped the impacting pallet.
Please slide freely off the front!
My rear wheels bounced. Spun. Gripped the concrete floor.
Managed to retreat a few crucial meters.
At least three shelved warehouse pallets crushed the pallet I'd left behind.
Another nine pallets worth of materials hit. Slid off to the sides.
Created a wider and wider mountain of destruction.
The remaining contents splashed into the columns holding up the next rack.
Into the two racks across the aisle.
More pedal!
As fast as the forklift could reverse. As far as the warehouse allowed.
The enemy spec ops pair unslung their rifles.
Adjoining supports collapsed.
Couldn't resist the push of sideways spreading masses.
Not and hold the weight above.
Their collapse added three-times as much powdered metal and glass bottles to the growing 12 foot mountain of destruction.
Metal powders flowed well enough, but as glass bottles of chemicals shattered, the spilled liquid lubricated everything.
Sped up the horizontal spread.
Two enemy soldiers raised their rifles.
Took aim.
The carnage reached them.
Swept them off their feet.
The pattern continued. A giant erector set of dominoes.
Materials flowed in waves from the top of the collapsing pallet racking.
Followed the paths of least resistance.
Piled up in the aisle.
Spread sideways into the next vertical supports.
Knocked those over.
"Wow."
Understatement in my earpiece from the Doc, watching the camera feed.
Ruin first spread to the other end of the row of racks I'd originally hit.
The racks across the aisle weren't far behind.
The enemy pair vanished as the surrounding racks collapsed. Covered them with metal powder, pellets, and glass shards.
A pause.
Everything hung in the balance.
Two 40-foot long aisles containing ten 24-foot racks crumpled; the enemy between them.
Then the wreckage got out of hand.
The wave of materials reflected off the back wall of this section of the warehouse.
Spread out a little farther.
Far enough to impact the supports of the next aisle over.
That aisle collapsed from back to front.
I spun the wheel.
Fled farther.
Backed my forklift into the loading dock area of the red zone.
From right to left, one, two, three, four, five, six aisles of floor-to-ceiling pallet racking toppled in turn.
Destruction flowed with a roar like the ocean.
Concrete floors turned bottles into shards. Barrels burst open or rolled into nearby supports. Pulverized bags filled the air with shiny metallic particles.
Noise might attract a little attention.
Pieces of broken pallet stuck out here and there from the 40-foot long, 100-foot wide, mountain of rubble.
Destruction filled the space where six rows of racks had been.
I wiped my forehead. Glad I'd made it back to the loading dock area.
Outside brown zone.
The dust cloud caught up to me.
Turned my sleeve into an impromptu air filter, but choked and hacked anyway.
"Hope the Army doesn't make me pay for this mess." Cough. "Lieutenants don't make much."
"You've set back our research by at least six months, just to clean up and get new supplies. Wasn't there a less destructive way to stop them?" Her singsong accent in my Bluetooth earbud sounded lovely, even if her sentiments bore tinges of out of control collateral damage.
War is destruction.
I set my jaw.
Tried to estimate where the enemy soldiers lay under the wreckage.
Leaving the forklift, I grabbed the mop handle.
Clambered over the spilled goods to the spot the pair of spec ops soldiers disappeared into.
Scrambled to stay on top of bent frames and the shredded pallet planks, not sure if I'd sink into the rest nor what Frankenstein mix the random acidic liquids and powdered metals would create together.
"I'm mostly winging it here, Doc. Let me concentrate on checking if they're still a threat."
Pulled aside shredded bags and shifting collapsed boxes to search. Took a minute to locate the enemy.
Dead.
At least unconscious.
Buried under shards of glass and powdered rubble.
Found an open angle. Jabbed them each with the mop handle.
No movement.
No longer a danger.
Maybe I deserved to feel more triumphant, like a beating of battle drums, while standing victorious over my fallen enemies, but the only pounding I felt were the pulses of adrenaline hammering my ears.
These guys never had a chance, but better them than me lying under all that rubble.
Couldn't dig down to reach their rifles, slung partway over their arms, without slicing myself open on the glass.
Most likely ruined anyway.
Doc cheered. "Nice work, Lieutenant."
Must be watching my progress on the cameras. "Don't celebrate too early, still four more out there."
A Ranger's work is never done.
* * *
Even over the white noise of the data center's fans, Kwon heard rolling thunder from outside the room.
Came from the much larger warehouse space. Sounded like the whole place collapsed in on itself.
Did one of his men's explosive charges detonate prematurely?
Took two tries to click his radio microphone on. "This is one. Report."
His own transmission stepped on Stro's, "… and seven, report. Repeat, observe major collapse in brown zone. Five, seven, report."
Nothing but whirring fans for several endless moments.
What happened to his men?
Why didn't they respond?
Maybe splitting up the team hadn't been the best idea.
After an eternal wait, an answer, "Four and six. We also heard it. Currently clearing blue zone offices. Empty so far." Wrong pair.
Whatever the issue, it was with five and seven in the brown zone. The others were fine.
"Four, six, return to orange zone. Regroup with two and three. Locate the others. Skip the nonessentials. Accelerate the timeframe."
"Four, ack."
"Two, ack."
With his team back on track, Kwon looked at the almost completed pile of storage drive shelves stacked near the steel data center door.
What could he do to quicken the pace of his own efforts?
One last shelf, then he'd go hunting for a forklift to carry it all.
Even if th
is collapse delayed his team's departure, he'd complete the most critical goal of their mission himself.
A junior officer's work is never done.
Chapter Eighteen: Survival Training
I careened around a corner into red zone, rear wheels sliding at the edge of control.
Floored the electric forklift again. Its motors whined with effort.
With brown zone cut-off by the collapsed aisles, needed to get over to blue zone to ensure the Doc didn't have to deal with any unwelcome visitors.
The last thing I wanted was the only witness to this mess who might actually be on my side getting herself killed.
Besides, I kind of liked her attitude.
Not to mention she was the only local who I didn't have to stare down at the top of her head.
"Lieutenant, the pair in blue zone turned back. They're talking on radios and moving toward the other pair. I think they'll meet up in orange zone. You can't reach them separately. You'll have to confront both pairs at once."
I skidded to a stop near the cargo mantrap in red zone. The security office door remained closed.
Good.
Really didn't want any collateral human damage from my choice to stay behind and repel the invaders. Putting a stop to that sort of thing, not doing paperwork, was why I'd joined the Army in the first place.
Lifted the giant bleach container onto the forks. Maybe my ROTC junior year course in Nuclear, Biochemical, and Chemical Warfare would come in handy.
More than the Law of War course did, preferably.
I'd need to drive more carefully now that I had cargo again. "How close is the pair in blue zone to reaching orange zone?"
"Almost to the end of the hallway."
Really didn't want to turn the corner and see them at the other end of a long hallway. Rifle fights at a distance go notoriously poorly for the dude without a rifle. "Please tell me when they clear that last hallway into orange zone."
Drove across the open concrete of red zone.
Passed the data center door, then into the blue zone hallway.
Paused for a moment just before the hallway's right turn.
Waited for word from the Doc.
The forklift wasn't really intended for the people parts of the lab.
Barely fit into this hallway. Definitely wouldn't fit around the corner.
Too bad.
Techno Ranger Page 17