Warriors at the Gates- Trojan Wars

by Rick Royster

  Trying to hear anything in the wind was as useless as whispering into an industrial-sized fan, but it had its benefits, muting the noise from the hoverbike’s engine.

  She went over the game plan; the high winds prevented them from parachuting in with jetpacks. Fly in too low, and they’d risk being detected in Global Union airspace, and for Tressa and Goliath, a thirty-mile run in this weather through the snow wasn't feasible, although Cayden had suggested it.

  But they were in a time crunch and needed to get in, get the Cube, get the hostages, and get out.

  Cayden was the first wave — by himself a team of special forces rangers. By himself, he'd eliminate the hostiles assigned to recon. He and Goliath would then get the scientists to safety and to a clear area for extraction.

  The Scavenger, per protocol, wouldn't wait a second longer than their allotted time, and they were thousands of miles away from any type of Coalition safe base.

  Getting back to the ship on time was vital, assuming they even survived the rescue.

  Tressa hadn't even begun to think of the challenges the terrorists would present for them, and she still hadn't worked out how she would bring herself to kill Cayden, the most difficult part of the mission. She dreaded the thought of having to murder someone with whom she had been so close and someone who'd saved her life more than once.

  But she resolved to harden her heart and be brave, since her daughter’s life depended on it.

  A chrono on Tressa's wrist beep and buzzed, interrupting her thoughts; the signal was from Cayden. That meant he was inside, and now they would have only ten minutes to get in, seize the hostages and the Cube, and extricate themselves. She had to move.

  Goliath made a sign with his two outer fingers, the signal he'd received Cayden's message as well.

  Tressa glanced up ahead; through her frosted goggles, she saw the big fella and was reminded that although her special forces team had its share of fighting, they were a family; they fought and disagreed like any family, but when she told them her situation, they made clear their loyalty was to the group first and not the Coalition.

  If it wasn't so goddamned cold, she might have been able to shed a tear of gratitude.

  Within the Coalition, they were known as the Strike Force; they did the job other covert ops or intelligence squads couldn't — or better yet, wouldn't – do.

  Tonight was no exception. They were given the most dangerous missions, ones that stood a great chance of casualties. If the quantum-cube hadn't been at stake, Tressa was positive that Cayden wouldn't have been involved and the mission would have resembled more acutely what it was. A suicide run, and that would be the case for even the most well-trained, elite soldiers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Move swift as the Wind and closely-formed as the Wood. Attack like the Fire and be still as the Mountain.”

  ― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

  Goliath abruptly slowed his bike and peered through his halo-oculars, puffs of hot air jetting from his mouth at an easy pace like the breath of a hungry dragon waiting to pillage a small town.

  Tressa brought her snowmobile to a stop, though slowly, to maintain her bearings and prevent her mount from making a sound. As it drifted slowly from midair to the snowy ground, her Tiaga-551 made a light crunch as it impacted into the snow, making Tressa wince.

  She tapped on her wrist comm, and a holographic projection emerged and displayed the base’s schematics. Her eyes were drawn to the readouts for the master command room and the basement. It was different from the first schematic she had been shown when briefed.

  The top brass had given them conflicting intelligence, further evidence they had poor intel or had been set up.

  The initial reports said there were possibly as many as nine terrorists and nine hostages. Now, there were apparently fifteen bandits and five scientists. The only thing which appeared to be known was that the terrorists holding the hostages were highly dangerous, likely freelance mercenaries – though, thankfully, not the soulless Imperial Knights who served the Global Union.

  Goliath was a hundred yards ahead of her and already on the move. He didn't seem nearly as fazed by the cold as she was. Even in sub-freezing temperatures, he wore his usual uniform with no sleeves or armor to cover his arms.

  Tressa couldn't recall a colder night.

  En route on the Scavenger, the VR simulations simulated a cold environment, but even that couldn't prepare her for this, the piercing wind only adding to her misery.

  Cayden had his mission and she had hers. She had three goals- to get the quantum-cube, save the hostages, and capture the kidnappers- but of these, only one stood out as most important; the cube was required to barter for her daughter’s life.

  "Let's move," Goliath's voice whispered out of her wrist comm.

  She followed Goliath's path to the side entrance, looked down and saw three hostiles on the outer perimeter, lying dead in the snow, but exhibiting no blaster wounds or grotesque broken bones.

  Cayden's handiwork.

  The mercenaries were good enough to overtake a squad of Coalition soldiers and commandeer the base; they were crafty enough that their identities had yet to be discovered. Tressa wouldn't take them lightly.

  She had no idea who sent her the message when she was asleep aboard Air Station Alpha, as all of her guesswork didn't add up. She knew it was someone who didn't trust anyone in the Coalition and probably had no direct ties to the Global Union. It might have been strictly a money play, but it was quite evident that the mercs had to either be apprehended or captured. If the Global Union knew what had happened here, they would hunt the kidnappers and torture them for the information the quantum-cube held.

  Once the Generals deemed them a threat to Coalition security, they'd spend every resource making sure it was contained. At this point, they could try and reject the ransom and give the Cube back peacefully - and it still wouldn't help them.

  The base's entrance led down, not up, and from this level, it looked like an old abandoned shipping container discarded by the water, but Tressa had the schematics so she knew it was a submerged old nuclear submarine. Their biggest challenge beyond the weather would be in being clean and efficient. An errant shot by the mercenaries could set off a chain reaction of explosions leading to disaster.

  If something went wrong and the sub lost air pressurization, not only would they find themselves in a fast-sinking ice cube, but they could find themselves suffocating or being crushed by the very air they needed to breathe.

  Cayden said no explosives, but Tressa still packed her flash grenades just in case. He also said they were to only use neuro-rays, but she chose to conveniently forget that as well. Supposedly, she was to take them out with her charming good looks and hand-to-hand combat.

  Tressa closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath; it was time for some action.

  The plan was for the three of them to meet up at the entrance point, then Cayden would go and handle the hostiles in the main control room and she and Goliath would get the scientists out.

  She followed the same route Goliath had taken when he’d disappeared into the sub, but there was no sign of him.

  Dammit, Goliath.

  Adrenaline at the thought of battle began to raise the temperature of her otherwise frigid body. Cayden was MIA also. She'd have to improvise, and not for the first time.

  Tressa took a deep breath and opened the main door, bursting into a mess hall and bracing herself for the coming assault. Nothing. She breathed easy, then made her way down the steel and circular passageway and counted the seconds off slowly in her head as she moved. She was grateful to be inside; yes, people would soon be trying to kill her but at least she'd be warm.

  She caught a brief flash out of the corner of her eye, a phosphorous flare of red light. She came to an immediate stop, then knelt low and lit up the tac-light on her weapon. She then scanned the floor, the walls and the ceiling.

  Infrared tripwire.

  The hallway was b
ooby-trapped.

  Devious bastards.

  This also suggested the kidnappers were still here and ready to go down with the ship.

  She carefully stepped over the tripwire, her eyes searching for other violent surprises.

  According to the schematics, the ship’s command hull was one level up beyond the door she was now approaching. That was where she was headed, if she didn't get killed in the control room first.

  She reached out with a gloved hand and grabbed the doorknob, turning it gently until it popped.

  It was now or never.

  She yanked open the door but didn't enter. Slamming her back against the outer entrance’s wall, the rat-a-tat-tat of laser blast striking metal on the far end of the submarine added to her anxiety. Either Goliath or Cayden had engaged the enemy. Her blood turned hot, the promise of battle pushing her into action.

  She crouched and peeked her head in, glancing around quickly before jerking her head back. More loud laser blasts. She needed to move and find the source of the gunfire. She listened intently now; she was close, just up ahead. Tressa charged low and fast through the open doorway.

  A flash of light; was it from a blaster, Tressa wondered? Then sparks of pain as if her collarbone had been smashed by a shovel. Tressa looked up at the bright lights, the ceiling and walls, but as fast as she entered, she was knocked flat on her back. "Move it, soldier," Tressa hissed to herself.

  She rolled sideways and started firing wildly in random directions.

  Who shot me? Where was he?

  I don't need to be shot again.

  She dove for cover behind the metal center console and risked a peek over in the direction of the west door. No enemy in sight. It had to be a sniper, but she dismissed that thought immediately because she still lived. Flash grenade was clever, Tressa thought, as it blinded her long enough that she was almost killed by the two lasers he shot at her, and by the time she got her bearings, the door was slamming shut behind him.

  She squeezed the area near her shoulder where she'd been shot to assess the damage to her body armor and was thankful it hadn't been penetrated. The astro-mesh, the lightweight flexible titanium metal their uniforms were made of, had done its job. The spot on the floor next to where she'd been shot had a tennis-ball-sized hole dancing with dying fire.

  Tressa stood and jogged quickly toward the door, placing a fresh charge into her laser gun.

  Beyond the door was a ladder leading up to where the scientists would be according to the schematics, and with any luck, the Trojan Cube would be in the same room. More likely with the way her day was going, it would be the jackass that took a pot shot at her. She was probably walking into an ambush. She needed that Cube to get her daughter back, and she'd go through a pride of hungry lions if she had to; nothing would stop her. Playing it safe or turning back were not options.

  More laser blasts rang out. Had Goliath engaged them or had the mercenaries started executing hostages?

  Cayden and Goliath both had shut off their comms, and she was in the dark as far as their positions. Tressa rushed closer to the door and listened; muffled coughs and gags, the swirling sound of a terrible wind. On the other side of the door, there was no doubt Cayden was introducing the kidnappers to his katana.

  Now was her chance to bolt up the ladder and pop the bottom hatch. She'd have to be willing to deal with whatever was up there on the other side. They knew she was coming, and once the hatched kicked open, she expected them to open fire on her.

  Her boots clanged on the steel steps as she traversed the ladder. There wouldn't be much time to retreat once she opened the door and if she fell back looking for shelter, she could wander right into the laser of an awaiting mercenary. Tressa sighed heavily, letting the schematics run through her mind once more.

  Above her were wires and pipes and the circular metal entrance to the next room.

  When she reached the top, she shoved open the hatch with her elbows, then extended both arms through the hatch, guns drawn and bracing herself for the first shot that never came.

  Tressa climbed through the hole, half surprised she hadn't been cut down in a hail of laser fire.

  She fired too quickly, guiding her aim to purposely miss the target.

  She glanced up and saw the steel smoldering in the wall from her blast. What lay beneath the smoke was horrifying.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Who does God really favor in the web?

  The spider or the fly?

  Six, eight… no, thirteen people were in the room, nine of them with masking tape covering their mouths and all with sub-laser rifles, black tape wrapping their right hands to the trigger, and their left hands to the clips.

  "I'm so fucked," Tressa said.

  Which were the scientists and which the mercenaries?

  Devious bastards.

  Four of the people that didn't have tape trudged forward, guns raised.

  Tressa had a battalion aiming guns at her and she had no clue as to who was who.

  She couldn't shoot all thirteen even if she wanted to, so she quickly scanned eyes and foreheads, looked for perspiration, any small clue to who was terrified and who was ready to attack.

  An Asian woman, second in the horizontal line of the four untaped scientists, took a slight step forward and then lunged toward her.

  Tressa took square aim as she was trained to do and bit down on her lip. Saving her daughter flashed through her mind, and she squeezed the trigger.

  Twice.

  One blast hit center mass and the second was a headshot. The woman folded and collapsed to her side.

  A quick scan of the scientists revealed that tears and terror filled their faces. She'd killed one of them.

  Dammit.

  Why aren't they stampeding like a herd of buffalo, Tressa thought? They just stood there, heads swiveling back and forth, looking at each other.

  It was unnatural and defied logic. Unless…

  They feared something worse if they fled and broke ranks. Now she really was a sitting duck, one with no cover and no idea of who was friend and who was foe. And worse, she had already killed a friendly.

  She took a couple of steps back, the hair on her arms spiking, her temperature rising. She began to sweat and feel the effects of the combat serum the Coalition gave their soldiers to make them twice as strong and as fast as a world-class athlete.

  One of the males shuffled forward, Asian, mid-thirties and sporting a goatee. He then dashed behind two blondes, both females. The man held one from behind in a chokehold and he had his semi-automatic weapon pressed against the back of the other female’s head.

  "Put the gun down, moron; there is no escape from here," Tressa shouted.

  The man responded in Chinese.

  Tressa didn't understand a word, but from the tone, she had a hunch it was a derogatory comment about her being a woman.

  The man's temple was ripe for a kill shot that she was sure she could make, and her finger itched on the trigger but she didn't fire, couldn't risk killing another innocent scientist.

  She couldn't leave this place without the Trojan Cube, and everything else was secondary. And she'd already killed one of the scientists. She was sure she'd have plenty of time later to try and assuage her guilt. She wished the mercenary spoke English so she could communicate with him, maybe even reason with him.

  "Put the gun down," Tressa shouted again.

  "Fuck you,” the man responded with a smile.

  Tressa frowned. The words were clear and concise, and she thought, well, he does know ‘some’ English!

  Darkness. Then sparks of aqua and gold electricity...

  A detonation and a cloud of smoke...and the mercenary with the two blondes had vanished.

  An explosion somewhere in the lower levels knocked Tressa off her feet. Somewhere above, a pipe burst, showering the room with water.

  Tressa rose to her knees, watching as the lights flickered on and off and fuse boxes in the room crackled with sparks of blue light.


  Oh, my God, I'm going to die.

  Another explosion and then the door behind her locked and sealed shut. It must have triggered the automatic lockdown system. The door was made of four feet of cold steel, and she couldn't move it or shoot through it. The lights turned back on, then a moment later the room went dark again, the only light coming from the blue electricity that crackled along the walls and the outlets and fuel boxes.

  Tressa couldn't see two feet in front of her but could hear the scientists whimpering.

  When the lights turned back on, Cayden, somehow, was standing beside her.

  "How did...?" Tressa asked, then rose to her feet.

  The rest of the scientists were still there, standing silent, still frozen in fear.

  "I have a plan to get them out?” Tressa said.

  The lights on some of the scientists’ vests began to blink in reds and blues.

  "I have the Cube, and a plan to get us out," Cayden said.

  His words were clear over the sounds of water spraying out of the pipes, the crackling electricity and the muffled cries of a group of individuals having the worst kind of day.

  She checked the door for escape.

  "We're trapped."

  The scientists shuffled slowly across the room, mouths still taped shut and wrists still bound together. Cayden turned around toward the steel door and drew his katana, and he then sliced down in a perfect arc in the small space where the locks intersected between door and wall. He sheathed his blade and pushed the door open.

  Now the scientists were moving in a staggered limp.

  Tressa saw the look on Cayden's face and what it suggested.

  He couldn't. He wouldn't.

  "Come on!" Cayden screamed.

  This time, her legs moved before her mind had a chance to protest.

  Cayden was standing on the outside of the open doorway, waiting for her to pass. She scurried through and when she was clear, she spun around and saw the terror-filled faces of some of the prisoners, the look in their eyes that cried for help.