DusktoDust_Final3 Page 30

When he opened the truck’s cargo area, Letsego was greeted by twenty two men ready for action.

  “Any problems?” Gnasher asked, scanning the area.

  “No, sir,” Letsego said.

  Carpenter, dressed in ICARUs armor and once again toting an assault rifle, was the first to hop down from the tail gate. “Not bad work for a Peak. Let’s grab the vehicles and get the hell out of here.”

  The plan was simple from here. There were very few ways to travel in on the light side of Prospect. The heat damaged all but the most well equipped vehicles. It would be suicide to try and commandeer a train, and taking any type of space craft into the light side would instantly be picked up by Fed and Windcorp sensors. Carpenter had come up with the bright idea of stealing a few rail maintenance vehicles. They were outfitted to handle the extreme heat and could cover rough terrain. And they were only lightly guarded in the rail maintenance yard.

  Carpenter led the group across the yard to where a handful of silver maintenance vehicles, nicknamed coyotes, were parked. Each one had six burley tires to traverse the harsh terrain of the light side. Their silver, aluminum shielding reflected the majority of heat back into the atmosphere.

  “Load up,” Gnasher directed. “Four to a vehicle.”

  The soldiers piled into six of the coyotes, which were cramped to say the least. Each was equipped with an airlock of sorts at the rear and four environmental suits that allowed maintenance workers to get out and work on stretches of track. Letsego wedged himself inside the lead vehicle next to Lieutenant Gnasher. Carpenter was up front in the driver’s seat. He hit the ignition on the hydrogen powered vehicle and the engine purred.

  “Looks like this girl has a full tank,” the smuggler observed. “Lieutenant, we’re all ready to go here.”

  Gnasher keyed his comm unit. “Divers check in.” He waited for five confirmations through the speaker. “Okay. Staff Sergeant, you’re navigating.”

  Letsego pulled out his tablet, the locations of the two Windcorp mining facilities marked on it. “Ready to go, sir.”

  “Very well. Mr. Carpenter, take us out of the Dusk Zone.”

  “My pleasure.” Carpenter put the coyote into drive and led the convoy out the back gate of the maintenance yard. Soon they were heading for Prospect’s eternal sunrise, following the hoverrail tracks, and leaving Windham City and the Dusk Zone in their wake.

  29: Observe and Report

  The sun poured through the skylights of his apartment, revealing that she was indeed still there, sleeping on the couch. He ignored that problem and went straight for the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on the stove. On the counter sat the letter he had received the day before.

  …Effective 10 November, 2262, you hereby stand relieved from the United States Marine Corps, as directed by the President… He had not bothered reading past that. He knew what it said. Three hundred thousand other men and women had received a letter similar to it, kicked to the curb by the nation they had chosen to protect.

  His head throbbed; a gift from the copious amounts of drinking his platoon had partaken in the night before. It brought his mind back to the issue lying on the couch. How was he supposed to get rid of her?

  “Take these.” He looked up and she was standing there, holding out two aspirin tablets. He took them and swallowed.

  “You’re still here.”

  “I have nowhere else to go, staff sergeant.”

  “It’s just Carpenter, now.” He poured two cups of coffee. “You don’t have any family? Friends?”

  “No. My life was the Corps. Gonna have to start over.”

  “Huh,” he grunted.

  “I was meaning to ask… Carpenter. They shut down the barracks. Do you think I could crash here until I find a place?”

  He didn’t need this. He had his own plans. This was his fresh start, and now she wanted to come in and ruin it all… But even now, she was still one of his Marines, and he had said he would look out for all of them.

  “A few nights. That’s all.” If she couldn’t figure out her plans by then it was her problem.

  David stared out at the desolate landscape, feeling like it somewhat reflected him right now. On that day over two years ago, “a few nights” had turned into weeks, and weeks into months. He had soon come to the realization that Sergeant Ramirez was good to have around. That had been the beginning of their mutual partnership.

  But now, without Alana, David felt empty; a hollow vessel with hot, useless winds blowing about inside him.

  The emptiness hurt, but soon he would fill it.

  He turned away from the painful view of the light side, blinding even through the thermal netting. They had travelled for two full days, driving the band of coyotes over the most hellish terrain in the galaxy. Letsego’s course had allowed for them to drive through ravines and canyons for most of the trip, allowing them to escape the worst of the heat, and the sensors of Federation ships in orbit.

  Five kilometers short of the coordinates for mining facility D6A, they had set up camp. Using thermal netting which they had found in the coyotes, used to assist workers with rail maintenance, and a few advantageous rock outcroppings, the ICARUs soldiers had fashioned a shelter that would shield them from the blazing sun and was positioned to observe the main approaches to the mining facility. From where he was, David could see both the entrance to the rail tunnel and the somewhat concealed landing bay entrance.

  With base camp built, the Peacekeepers and lone smuggler had settled in. They were here to “observe and report”, Letsego had insisted. David had suggested that a recon party into the mining facility, or at least down the rail tunnel, could provide them more valuable intel, but the Peacekeeper had nixed that idea. After a long discussion between him, David, and Gnasher, they had settled on sending out observation posts around the facility. Now four different teams of Death Divers were set up around the perimeter, using the coyotes’ environmental suits to protect them from the sun.

  Twenty hours into the “sit on your ass” phase of the operation, as David liked to call it, there were few developments. At the main camp, accompanied by Letsego, Gnasher, and nine other Divers, they had cycled through eight hour observation shifts. If you weren’t on shift you could choose between consuming semi-edible freeze-dried rations, attempting to sleep on the hot hard ground, or staring long and hard at one of the many rocks in the vicinity.

  David was heavily entrenched in a rock staring contest when Gnasher sat down next to him. “A soldier’s life consists of long periods of boredom punctuated by short instances of extreme terror.”

  David snickered, recognizing the age old adage. “Your guys see anything out there?”

  Gnasher shook his head. “Nothing new. For good measure, post three is going to put up a condor to see if there’s anything to see from the sky. We haven’t seen anyone enter or leave the place since we got here.” He was right. For a facility that allegedly housed the next terrible weapon of humanity, David had expected a more security, either by Windcorp or the Feds. But there was nothing. It almost looked like the place was abandoned.

  “It’d be nice to get a closer look.” He was still bitter about Letsego’s decision to stay put.

  “Let’s see what the condor comes up with,” Gnasher said. “Plus, the commodore’s orders were to conduct reconnaissance for when the fleet returns. From where we are now, we can guide them on target to nuke the whole damn facility.”

  But that would ruin all the fun. David let the argument rest for now.

  Another half hour passed. David tried to eat a freeze-dried ration labeled Indian curry, but the meal did not agree with him. A couple bites and he couldn’t stomach the decade old processed sustenance any more. He dug through the other contents of the meal and settled on a protein bar. It was dry and bland, but at least he could keep it down.

  “Two actual, this is Oh-Pee-Four,” observation post four said over the radio.

  Gnasher, who was trying to g
et some sleep, answered without opening his eyes. “Send it.”

  “Two actual, we have the condor in the air. There’s something you need to see.”

  Letsego stared down at the tablet, his mind still groggy from being roused from his sleep. “What am I looking at, sir?”

  Gnasher and Carpenter were crowded around him. “We put the condor up again,” the lieutenant said. “It’s picked up something new on top of the facility.” He pointed out five locations on the screen.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Letsego asked, his mind processing the image.

  “Trans-orbital missile clusters,” Carpenter confirmed. “Those babies can reach up through the atmosphere and drop any ship in orbit.”

  Letsego shook his head. “Not that model. Those are corsair grade missiles. They might be able to punch through the thin hull of a civilian transport, but it would take dozens of them to take out a military vessel.”

  “Maybe standard corsairs,” Gnasher said, leaning in to look at the tablet. “But those don’t look standard.” He keyed his mike. “Oh-Pee-Four, run a diagnostic scan of those warheads.”

  The results came back a minute later. “Sir, I’m getting some weird readings here,” the Diver said over the radio. “The tip of the warhead is definitely five hundred pounds of military grade Composition M, but there’s a second charge of a material that isn’t in any of the weapons databases.”

  “Shit.” Carpenter looked at Gnasher. “It’s Rockworm. The missile is designed to punch through a ship’s outer hull with the Comp M charge, and kill everyone on board with the Rockworm charge. They could take out every Peak ship that gets in range with a missile each.”

  Gnasher nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  Letsego looked at the two of them. He could see the wheels turning in both of their heads. At their core, they were both grunts, and Letsego knew what their solution to this problem would be. “This isn’t the right move,” he stated.

  Carpenter’s frustration began to show. “The commodore could be coming back with the fleet anytime now. She’ll have enough to deal with with all the Feds up in orbit. These missiles will rip them to shreds.”

  “Staff Sergeant,” Gnasher cut in. “I’m inclined to agree with Mr. Carpenter. I know this is your op, and it is supposed to be a reconnaissance mission. But if the fleet shows up and those missiles are still functional there’s going to be a lot of dead men and women in the sky.”

  “What do you suggest, sir?” Letsego pandered.

  “A well placed bundle of explosives will disable one of those launchers. I didn’t count but it looked like there weren’t more than a dozen up on that mountain. And it doesn’t look like the Feds are very concerned about ground threats. I can confidently say that my men can get up there, place the explosives, and get back here inside of six hours. Our exposure would be minimal.”

  Letsego nodded and then turned to Carpenter. “Do you agree?”

  “We could take most of them out from here with rocket launchers, but the El-Tee’s right. To limit our exposure it would be best to hand place the explosives. It would also help us recon the area. I’m in.”

  Letsego mulled his options over for a moment. Despite relying on Carpenter’s contacts to get them here, this was Letsego’s operation, and this was his decision to make. “I agree that we can’t just sit here and let the fleet get ambushed, but we can’t destroy those missiles.”

  “Excuse me?” Carpenter was not pleased.

  “I know how those missile systems work. They are networked. One main frame controls them all. We can only see a dozen right now, but what if there are others at separate Windcorp sites? Destroying these won’t change a thing.”

  “So what,” Carpenter said. “You want to scour the whole light side for more launchers? Good luck.”

  “I’m surprised you don’t see the solution here, Carpenter. I said the launchers are all networked to one mainframe. It doesn’t matter where they are, one computer controls them all. And I’m willing to bet the mainframe is in that facility.” He pointed at the mountain.

  Gnasher gave the intel operative a skeptical look. “Staff sergeant, you aren’t suggesting what I think you are?”

  “Sir, we need to take the whole network down. And the only way to do so is going in there.”

  Carpenter cracked a smile. “Letsego, for once I think I am in complete agreeance with you.”

  Gnasher countered. “What about your theory that this is the center for all Windcorp and Fed activities on Prospect? We could be walking into a trap.”

  “We’ve sat here for a day and haven’t seen a single person enter or leave that place,” Carpenter said. “Maybe I was wrong.”

  30: The Archeologist

  They gained access to the facility through a ventilation shaft on the north side of the mountain. In the environmental suit, it was difficult for David to properly grip the rope as he repelled down the shaft. When his feet landed on solid ground he released the rope, raised his weapon and scanned the room. The two Divers ahead of him were already posted at the door to the room they were in providing security.

  In two minutes he was out of his environmental suit and was joined by Letsego, Gnasher, and fifteen other ICARUs troopers in the small ventilation maintenance room. The air was warm but far more conformable than being outside.

  “We’re in. What’s the plan now?” Gnasher asked Letsego.

  “We need to get to one of the facility’s computer terminals,” the intel operative said. “There has to be a map to this place on there.”

  “Well, we’re not gallivanting around this place blind with a whole squad.” Gnasher turned to Sergeant Washington. “Wash, I need two of your Divers to join me, Carpenter, and the Staff Sergeant. The rest of you stay here and wait for my call.”

  The Sergeant nodded acknowledgement. “Miller, Delahanty, go with the El-tee.”

  The five men stacked on the door. Gnasher nodded at the point man. “Go.”

  The door slid open. David followed Gnasher out into what was an empty tunnel. There was only one way to go.

  The small team moved tactically down the tunnel. The passage was silent. Right now they were operating blind. They needed to find a computer terminal and get a full picture of what the facility looked like. David had spent a day here, but his exploration of the place had been very limited.

  They moved down the tunnel a few hundred meters. There was no activity. Soon they came across a single door in the right tunnel wall. Gnasher approached it and placed his ear against it.

  “I don’t hear anything,” the platoon commander said. “Stack up.”

  The five men moved into position. Each held his rifle with attached silencer at the ready. Gnasher extended his hand, fingers extended, and counted down. On one, the lead Diver punched the release on the door control panel. The door slid open and the three ICARUs soldiers flowed into the room on the other side, followed by David and Letsego.

  By the time David was in the room the battle was already over. All he heard were a few metallic clicks from the Divers’ suppressed weapons.

  David entered the room with his weapon up. The three men ahead of him were finishing clearing what appeared to be a small detention center. There were the bodies of three Windcorp troopers lying lifeless on the floor.

  “Clear!” One of the Divers yelled as he made it to the end of a long row of detention cells.

  “Clear.” Gnasher acknowledged.

  Behind him, David heard the footsteps of Letsego as he entered. “I’ve got a computer terminal over here.” The spook started logging into it.

  David took a look around the room. There were five cells against the far wall, all dimly lit. Two of them had bodies in them.

  “See if you can open these cells,” David said to Letsego. A few seconds later the cells slid open in sequence.

  There was no need to properly check the man in cell two for a pulse. He was dead. The cold feeling of hi
s skin told David that. The man in cell four was a different story. When David knelt down to check his neck he started coughing uncontrollably.

  “It’s alright. Get up slowly,” David said as the man leaned forward. “Do you know where you are?”

  “In hell,” the man managed between coughs. “Who are you?”

  “We’re with the Peacekeepers.”

  Gnasher entered the cell. “Miller, we’ve got a live one!” He called out. Specialist Miller entered and produced an oxygen mask for the man.

  “What’s your name?” David asked after the man had recovered.

  “Joseph Robinson.”

  “Do you know much about this facility, Joseph?”

  Robinson nodded. “I used to work here. I’m an archeologist.”

  “An archeologist? So you know about the Titans?”

  The man laughed. “The Titans? If you are talking about the alien civilization we unearthed then yes. According to what we have found they called themselves Cdat’h Vars. The Titans must be the consumer friendly title Titus Windham has picked in an effort to play God.”

  Gnasher stepped in. “Did Windham put you in here?”

  Robinson nodded. “He didn’t like what I found in the historical archives we uncovered for the Cdat’h Vars. It challenged his grand plans for the Ferenic technology.”

  “What are you talking about?” David said.

  “If you’re here I’m guessing you know about the Ferenic tech.” The two men nodded. “When we first found it- I mean us archeologists, not Windcorp- we though it was amazing; That something as simple as Rockworm could produce such an amazing amount of energy when manipulated by the Cdat’h Vars technology. Yes, the weaponry we discovered was borderline terrifying, but the energy possibilities were endless.

  “But then we broke the Cdat’h Vars language and started reading their historical data. We had always wondered how a civilization with access to such limitless energy technology had suddenly ceased to exist. The Cdat’h Vars historical records answered that question.”