Chapter 18: Not on the List
Duty started at six. A raven’s caw gradually changed to a buzzing noise in my dream. The buzzing was Saint Peter, using his Colonel voice. "Report to Mustering hall B and load simulations." He showed me a you-are-here sketch and repeated until shut off. I dragged over to Mustering hall B in the dark. Sunrise was in an hour and a half.
The Mustering hall was busy. Red monitors lit tens of simulators already in use. I found one of the green ones and disrobed. A marine orderly with a pushcart provided gel and a towel before wheeling off to a yellow light where someone else was getting out.
Mustering halls were critical features on fast operations. Halls like this could churn out mission trained fighters with high situational awareness and specific skills like a factory. Running interactive, it built teams. I had run halls in miniature to form Militia. Plus, they were a lot of fun. You could push the envelope and get a real feel for the target and the team. It wasn’t the most fun you could have with your clothes off, but it was all that was offered today.
I sealed up the box and got on the net. My sergeants were there, along with Juan and his. All wanted to run through the plan. Around us, in the Battlespace, I saw Lifters going in on the island. Drones darted like dragonflies in a marsh. Simulated flashes to the south were a distraction. Etienne said, "Ignore that, the Garda are just working their invasion. We’re transparent to them."
I started us from the backside of the little Cay and we did our run-through. After our rest break, we got back on and had Hamblin, Johnson, Brown and Roxy join us. Brown joined our beach assault, but the rest had a different hazardous infiltration to run through, we would see each other’s feeds and eventually rendezvous on the island.
Roxy said hello, but the avatar mask of her character was the crewman I had shot to pieces behind the teak bar. It was an accusing, ghostly effect. My hello in reply was a little distracted.
We started scoring fairly well by the time the session ended. I wondered if letting us win a few was a Psych Op. Admittedly, Whitney’s sims seemed a bit worst case. We certainly had a variety of threats tried against us, but weren’t sure if that was an accurate enemy response. These Gamers rated like us in close combat. They weren’t as well tooled, but had a tricky tactical set. All of us were killed, once, with a fuel-air bomb under the bubble tent.
We got showered and fed. I was happy to see Roxy looking like herself at dinner. But when I told her the old DateNet line, "You look a lot better than your Avatar." She replied in a Carib lilt baritone. "Of course I do, he’s dead. I need to stay Alec right now." She turned her back to me, "Later cowboy."
We broke bread in a strained fashion, seeking not to disturb our three actors. Juan gave me a tiny shrug and caged his face with his fingers a moment. Actors, what can you do? I guess he was used to them.
After dinner, we got transport assignments. We broke up into two groups and went to the airfield to find our chariots. Mine was a wood decked runabout resting on rollers in a Stealth and Rescue Lifter. It looked like a civilian boat, but was just mimetics over a fabbed up hull. It would fit all six of us and our gear.
Next, we gathered inventory. A list of equipment, recommended and tested by our simulations, waited with marine supply sergeants. We put on the aquatic Skins and secured our kit in the boat. When all were loaded and the time arrived, we tilted across the night water heading east.
I sifted warrants to pass the time. Pictures and charges were already in the Battlenet recognition circuit, but I wanted to see faces and details. Richard and Peter Allway were being blamed by all as the masterminds of Gnefl. They were old money New York with a history of misogynistic practices. LaPorte and Nils Matheson were toadies for the Allways since Vassar College. Right now, a Matheson simulacrum was talking to Richard Allway in Gneflhiem, telling him the girls were gone. Richard’s rage at this provided testimony for a Christian killing, still on the list.
The Lifter pilot played "Ride of the Valkyries" back to our ears when deployment neared. It warned us for the sudden slide into water that sent a wave over the back of the boat. The cargo bay light shut off and the Lifter left us bobbing alone in the ocean. Sir Juan oriented us to a direction only he could see and moved out for a brief sprint.
Water began rising in the floor of the boat as Juan slowed down. We came to a stop and the back of the boat lifted up to form a wing above an opening filled with ducted impellors. As the boat sank to the rear, Juan used the impellors to goose it forward and the bow opened up with more stub wings and a large intake. As water filled the boat and it sank, a current rushed around our seated legs, drawn from the front, sifted through mesh and expelled out the rear. I saw low shapes to the south lit by cloud reflections before the sea rose over my helmet. After that I sat in darkness and listened to my own breathing.
Juan controlled our depth with the wings. As long as we moved, we would sink no further. It was dark below, but the boat projected charge into the surrounding water. Our Skins could feel the field and what it impinged on. Sea life was warned away. The deck crawled with passing sand and reef, mimicking the sea floor below. We were mimetic in our armored Skins also, receiving the camera feed from the underside. Marines called this type of craft and entry a "Wet Foil." I had not used it before, but it was much like the simulation.
Sir Juan followed his waypoints and skirted reefs or shallows which appeared on our sides. A school of barracuda crossed our path and shied violently away, flashing scales and foam. Vision was poor, even with amplification, so I was surprised when the Wet Foil skidded to a stop on the bottom. Sand came pouring across the floor at my feet. We would leave the Foil here.
I could see the underside of clouds when we debarked. The surface was within a meter of my head. I felt exposed, but the Skins still projected their illusion. Sir Juan picked the direction to the beach and we followed on extruded fins.
Rafe pushed ahead with his GE X-ray and lifted the gunsight slowly above the surface. The rest of us dispersed on hands and toes in the shallow water. Rafe’s sight showed a crab’s eye view of the beach to us. Red targeting boxes appeared around two men on the sand and a box in a treetop. The box looked like sensors or lights, the two men had pistols. Rafe panned across the beach and found no other targets. He swung back to the tree box and lifted the emitter out of the water. Rafe was ready to go.
Juan, Brown and Lopez crawled forward toward the men on the beach. Etienne and I crawled ahead toward the unoccupied beach. It became so shallow that we would stop moving until the next wave immersed us. As I lay, waiting for the surf, the tree with the box threw a handful of sparks. I heard the faint pops of air guns. Counting to six, I came up in a gorilla run. A few seconds put me among the grasses and mangroves. I slowly stood up beside a tree for a better view. There was no higher ground on the island. A half klick away, the great bubble flapped in the sea breeze, covering the castle and blocking the view to the east. Yellow lights shone both inside and to the south.
Juan opened a window in my visor. He was looking down at one of the men on the beach, who appeared comatose from a splat head shot. The feed panned and showed Diver’s Skins on the body. He had the electric organ under an armored jacket. Juan held up a pistol, showing a laser sight. Then I saw two little radios. His hands signed me to caution and the alert window folded away.
I brought up the tactical map and added range rings for offshore support. There were some pre-select missions from the simulation ready to go. My Hogdon already carried armor piercers and had the "cough can" suppressor screwed on tight. That seemed cautious enough. I dropped back into gorilla stance and started working my way southwest along the scrub line. Tactical inset showed Etienne ahead of me, Rafe behind but gaining. Juan took his two Sergeants straight at the bubble. They would stay within one hundred meters of us to provide support.
I followed Etienne’s path. Lights were glimpsed ahead. Murmuring voices reached our amplified ears. The three of us crawled to the edge of a billionaire’s version of a trailer park. Bri
ght yellow lights on poles shone above sausage shaped habitats. They were arranged in a loose herringbone pattern with many strung cables and antennas. I pointed at several support units and marked them for the Battlenet. Drone missions went on standby from a Garda cutter north of the reef.
We saw at least a dozen armed men walking about. Many wore Skins. A few had on horned helmets and capes. I thought they were role players, but Etienne hissed, "Look at their helmets." Zooming in I saw that the helmet was military grade with added horns. They were wearing heavy armor under the capes. These were the Enforcers the simulations had thrown at us. At least these three were stupid enough to wander blind in their own lights. The simulacrums we played were smart enough to wait in the dark.
"Hold position," I said, over the net.
We stopped moving and everyone took a slow look around. Sir Juan was in a marshy area to our far left and crouched in mud with Lopez and Brown. They couldn’t see anything and were trying to keep muck off their mimetics. Rafe was to my immediate left, panning his GE laser out in the dark. He wasn’t getting any red boxes. If Enforcers were out there, they weren’t in sight yet. I thought about frag orders that had worked in the sims. "Juan, continue at your best speed. We will follow this to the bubble." I heard water and Juan said, "Simon que si, Chuy." Yeah Jesus, I figured that out. He remembered the same sims.
We three Musketeers skirted the edge of the park, recording all we saw. I found fuel cells for air support to target, but no Enforcers howling for blood. It was almost a letdown. Then we came to a clearing in front of the entrance to the bubble. There was a crowd here, encamped in yurts and tents, to either side of a large black arch. Howling air flowing out of the arch blew trash and mosquitoes away from the entrance.
A whine and crunch to the south showed headlights approaching. An open cart turned left in front of us and parked near the arch. Captain Dahl and two crewmen got out with three guards in armored Skins. The guards kept their weapons out, like they might shoot our doppelgangers at any moment. The whole party leaned forward and fought the wind into the black castle. Their cart went back south toward the marina.
Rafe dug in where he was and panned his laser. Etienne moved closer to the bubble with me and found his own hide. I continued on to a dark spot against the bubble itself. Checking Juan’s feed I saw him against the bubble fifty meters away. Tactical mapping showed all were in place. I switched to Roxy’s feed to take my actor’s cues.
Hamblin and Johnson preceded her into a vaulted chamber. The guards spun around them in fields of clear fire. They clearly had training. That they had accepted two offered pistols as proof of unarmed status was less professional. That was a weak point in the sims, but seemed to have worked so far. They even allowed Johnson in obvious Skins. They were cocky.
The interior of the castle appeared carved from black rock. Spotlights and fake torches provided dim lighting. The floor was gray powder under a thick sealant. Wooden pews had been set up to the left like bleachers. Richard Allway was seated on a throne. There were three other thrones, but his was the most elaborate, stretching away to the ceiling. Behind the thrones were four coffins as we had seen at Delgado’s, the simulator safe room type.
Many alcoves and arched halls lined the outer walls. As Roxy panned the interior, I counted three more Enforcer types and six who seemed to be servants or technicians. I also got my bearings outside the bubble. Two meters away was an alcove without an occupant.
I crawled to the spot and fixed bayonet on the Hogdon. It clicked into the foregrip and put thirty centimeters of sharpened alloy forward of the muzzle. Cutting a large C shape in the bubble, I pushed inside against rushing air. Behind the flap were the walls of the Castle. I slid the bayonet in and twisted before withdrawing. The hole showed no light. Standing, I cut a square doorway, then an X from corner to corner. At all five intersections, minigrenades went in with the tip of the bayonet. When done, I backed up a few meters and lay down in the grass. The bayonet got stowed. I didn’t like running with the thing, it was scary sharp.
Roxy was watching Allway interrogate Captain Dahl. He sat in his throne at the top of stairs and harangued Dahl for going missing. I found his red cotehardie and gel twisted hair too precious to take seriously. He seemed aware that the Captain was not impressed with his game world etiquette. The realization made him stutter and lose composure. "Ssoo you stayed away when your comms broke and you saw a Garda Lifter that scared you."
He turned his head at a noise behind him and one of the coffin lids lifted. Peter Allway rolled out into a robe provide by a servant. He toweled as he approached the elaborate throne. "Let me speak to him brother." Richard flushed and rose from the elaborate throne. He shifted over to the next throne and watched Peter take his place. Peter seemed more possessed. His eyes were intelligent but humorous. "Why did you put your launches ashore in Green Turtle Cay, Captain?" He steepled fingers, "They are still there. Couldn’t you have used them to get the parts you needed without going to port?"
Captain Dahl looked down, as though steeling himself to admit a fault. Hamblin was a pretty good actor. "The Garda didn’t just scare me. Several of Mr. Matheson’s contractors felt threatened and left in the boats." Peter raised his voice at that, "You had a mutiny?" Dahl shook his head. "No sir, they were paying clients. I could not stop them."
Peter absorbed this for a moment, staring off into space. He looked at his brother. "Isn’t Nils a friend of yours?" Richard started at suddenly being in this conversation, "Should I summon him?" Peter drummed long black nails on the throne. "He is probably on the way. Am I to understand, Captain, that you wish to deliver your cargo and go on your way?"
Dahl nodded like a bobbing bird, "Exactly sir. I am here to discharge my duties."
Richard interjected from his minor throne, "And the houris are untouched? The principals, I mean?"
Dahl sketched a bow, "As requested." Richard’s smile was not pleasant to witness.
We had them. All in earshot were now conspirators. Roxy shifted her view to one of the Enforcers and took a step forward. Dahl subvocalized, "Now."
I triggered the minigrenades and jumped to my feet. Blocks of foam and dust blew toward me from the opening. Four steps gave me entry, past the jagged doorway, to the main chamber. I shouted "Garda" and heard the cry echoed by the rest of the team. Weapons fire exploded to my left.
An Enforcer, knocked down from behind by Sir Juan’s entry, twisted on the floor to fire his Streetsweeper shotgun. I gave him a burst of the Hogdon from the side, spinning him around and sending the next burst through the seat of his pants. Armor there was not sufficient. Red mist puffed and he thrashed, weaponless on the ground, howling like a banshee.
The cloth ripping sound of a Gauss gun came from the right. I dropped flat as the pillar beside me dissolved into tiny flecks of foam. Gauss darts were small, but hypersonic and sprayed in large groups. If the firer had started his burst a little lower, he would have killed me before I could react. Charge built on my Skins until I could feel the magnetic coil of my attacker’s barrel. I threw a flashbang around the pillar in his direction and fast crawled forward to peer around. The Enforcer was backing away from the munition, not knowing when it might detonate. I fired the Hogdon and thumped him on his back, still spraying darts from the Gauss automatic. Again I fired, up the skirt of his armor. The red mist of hits ballooned up.
There followed a moment of noise and lights. Sir Juan and his men were engaging a third Enforcer with a variety of beams and bullets. The three guards who had brought in our doppelgangers were down, although one still wrestled with Johnson. I felt charged fields in use. Hamblin and Roxy had vaulted the stairs and were wrestling with the Allway brothers and a few of their servants. The Allways wanted in their coffins and the Templars had to stop them without the help of Combat Skins. From what I saw of the fight, Hamblin and Roxy didn't need them.
There was a boom outside the castle and the lights went off. My helmet switched to thermal hybrid vision automatical
ly, showing three men running into the room from the outside arch with weapons in hand. I chewed them up with the Hogdon and slapped in another drum. Flashbang candlepower lit up behind me, throwing my shadow across the floor. Juan had found his target. Tactical showed all Enforcers were down inside the castle.
I threw a handful of flashbangs into the arch opening and gave them proximity triggers. Two immediately went off. Sir Juan fired his Beamworx laser after the flashes and was treated to some weak return fire from outside the castle walls. I heard distant blasts and weapons outside. There was a puff of moist air and the ceiling creaked from stresses. I assumed the chemical spray airstrike had dissolved most of the bubble. That was the counter to the fuel-air bomb scenario.
Brown and Lopez prowled around the castle, splatting survivors. Hamblin and Roxy had bound the Allways and were using the coffins for cover. Johnson crawled to the edge of the stairs and lay panting. His right leg was twisted and smoke rose from his Skins. Roxy said, "Covering fire" and crawled to his aid.
Juan and I poured fire to the outside. A couple flashbangs detonated to further mask our movements. Random bullets pierced the castle foam and zipped by like lethal bees, but Roxy grabbed Johnson’s collar and dragged him behind a coffin. It seemed the only true cover in the structure lay behind those armored boxes.
Juan used my covering fire to gain position behind the coffins. From there, he ripped bursts of Gauss darts at the opening while I sprinted across. A laser grazed my shoulder and the Skins exploded outward in a spray of steam. My right arm stopped responding and the Hogdon retracted against my chest, turning a leap up the stairs into a stumble and roll. Hamblin grabbed my harness and yanked me behind a box.
"How bad?" he asked. I saw the Skins bulged outward at my shoulder. Lifting the arm, I carried the weight of dead muscle. "Just the Skins. I can still play." The Hogdon came to my hands and I peered around the coffin to check the entrance, several bodies but no movement. Outside, the sounds of gunfire and explosions dwindled. I checked Rafe’s feed on one lens for news.
He was shifting position between small palms. The Laser came up and red boxes showed among the tent encampment at the black arch. He zoomed in on a target with a grenade launcher, creeping up on the arch. When the target stopped to fire, a blue light flashed. Several explosions obscured the results, but it did not look survivable for anyone within a few meters. Rafe shifted again, gorilla walking several meters right. A hail of bullets shredded the tops of palms.
I called in a strike on the tent town. Within a minute, drone gunships swarmed out of the night air and fired. The explosive rounds in their little autocannon shredded the tents and drove all to cover. One gunship went down in smoke and Rafe fired again, lasing a resister. Again, that strange blue glow. Humidity and bugs were exposing Rafe’s beam.
Etienne’s feed showed him wedged in a fold of earth and looking through a creased berm to the edge of the trailer park. Two bodies were on the ground in his narrow view. Faces showed behind cover, assessing their chances of outrunning a laser sniper with two kills in front of them. If they rushed, I was sure Etienne would shift his Beamworx to gauss darts.
I heard an amplified voice, "Garda, Garda, Garda," and bright light played over the park. All faces looked up at a descending Lifter and promptly lost their night vision. As the Lifter grounded, I heard screaming in the park. Microwave weapons, if I know my screams. Then the command shouts of debarked marines and an occasional burst of gunfire. Etienne’s feed blurred as he backed up out of his hide.
Back in the castle, our throne room stayed clear. "The Garda are here," I told all. Sir Juan turned off his mimetics and revealed the white Tabard and red Cross base setting. Brown, Lopez and I followed suit. I was just helping Johnson into his when the outer wall blew out.
Gunfire poured immediately through a large round hole behind the thrones. They were firing blind, since I could see nearly nothing with all the foam in the air. Rounds struck the coffin behind us and Johnson and I dropped flat. I heard Lopez and Juan firing, before their side of the room was hidden under a lot of flying metal and small explosions.
I got the Hogdon running on the hole and then displaced behind a coffin so I could rise to a crouch. That freed my left hand to deploy a couple flashbangs. They were my last two, but I got them through the hole so they did some good. Bright shadows on the floor showed the horns on several helmets. The ones with their backs to the flash swept in, hoping to catch us dazzled. I put rounds on the nearest until his Skins lay flat. But I was the only Templar firing. That is a bad sound.
More came in when I changed magazines. I fell back to another coffin and fixed the bayonet. There came the rip of Juan’s Gauss gun, back online and running. I decided to act in support and trotted forward. The Skins gave me a push and I was almost running. A horned Enforcer appeared as a shadow in the foam mist. He folded in half from a Hogdon burst. Muzzle flashes to the right received flashes in return. My arm was slow and he shot the back of my hand, crushing bones. I kept the Hogdon running through the pain and his flashes stopped. My gun clicked empty.
Another Enforcer came through. The air was clearing by the hole so he saw me. His Hogdon had shells. He hit me twice before I rolled far enough back in the foam cloud to fall down the throne steps. I was pretty sure he broke my back. Movement was impossible. I had dropped the empty Hogdon with the bayonet anyway.
Someone tapped my foot. I shifted eyes down and saw Etienne’s helmet. He gave me an upturned thumb and crept up the steps. His mimetics made him into a blur. There was a burst from a Hogdon and the rip of Gauss fire close by and then Rafe was looking down at me. He started pulling at my Skins and I blacked out.
Pieces dropped into memory without context. Movement, lights and sounds. Flashes of new faces peering into my own. I felt movement, first crude and painful but then as though floating. Lights seemed to have halos and there were many colors. I heard a battlefield, the wind carrying sharp voices, the hum of powerful engines. Someone said "Medical coma," clear as a bell and then I remembered nothing.
I awoke in a medical bed as though a switch was thrown. Sudden, sharp focus. It was dim but I saw Rafe sleeping on a pull out couch. I lifted my hand and noticed darker skin and small black hairs. My right hand was encased in the mesh oval of a nano surgical director. I became confused, did I Transfer or am I healing?
Etienne walked into the room. "I thought that looked like some brain activity. Not much, but enough to wake up." He had been monitoring me on the hospital network.
Rafe stirred and sat up, "He is awake."
Etienne stepped to the bedside and sought my eyes. "Yes, yes. I already said that. Try to keep up." I made a croaking noise instead of a greeting and started coughing. "Get some water." Rafe thrust a paper cup to my lips and I drank water with a strong wine flavoring. When I could speak I asked, "Who’s drinking wine?"
Rafe shrugged, "There were no clean cups."
I asked my questions and they told me truths. A mirror showed I looked Mexicano again. The basic shape was the same Asian body, but the racial characteristics were altered genetically. "Saint Peter asked your upload what he desired in a body," Rafe told me.
"They spent more healing you than just totaling it," Etienne said. "They do that sometimes, with Templars."
"Especially ones crazy enough to lead bayonet charges," added Rafe. He gave me his small smile.
I asked the butcher’s bill. "No one who had not made the trip before," Rafe said. Roxy, Brown and Johnson, shot at the beginning and the end of the counterassault. Lopez, Sirs Hamblin and Juan had taken major wounds and survived. "Did the Writs come through?" Etienne nodded, "They are already Transferred."
Then they told me about the mission. We had lost Peter Allway and several servants in the firefight. Richard Allway was uploaded before body death. They seemed to have been targeted by the Enforcers, but Roxy’s body had shielded Richard. It was being kept quiet until we could find their revival plan. The other slain numbered almost forty. We
were still searching for their identities and backups.
Etienne handed me a pair of network glasses. "This will get you in Battlenet. Don’t let the staff here see them." My Sergeants cleared out. It was apparent I would be fine.
After a nap, Sir Hamblin came in from a room down the hall, "Hey neighbor. You have any bitters? We were just making drinks." He was walking around in medical Skins, so I assumed he wasn’t getting out anytime soon.
I waved him inside, "You’re in a hospital, you need to lower your standards."
We clasped our good arms awkwardly and talked about fallen friends and the job. Sir Hamblin was a lot older and had been around. But he still remembered how to listen in a conversation. A lot of the old ones can get kind of pedantic. So we enjoyed each other’s stories and he invited me sport fishing with the East Coasters any old time I came to town. I might take him up on that.
When he left, I checked the Battlenet and saw that LaPorte had been picked up in the Libertine by Major Wilson’s flying squadron. Sten never got to the airport to join the Solstice. Wilson had airdropped on him from the trestle bridge and broken his foot. He would get jump wings and a purple heart for his merit badge collection.
Roxy came by, with Johnson and Brown. All were in new bodies, so recognition took a moment. Johnson said, "Look, they shot him up so bad he turned back into a Mexican." Brown bumped knuckles with him and they chuckled, but Roxy said, "I think it’s more him." Her new body was a tall, thin black with oval eyes. The voice was much the same.
"Hey Roxy. You got your roots back."
She spread her arms, "Yeah. Be careful what you wish for, right?"
"Nah Roxy. It looks good on you."
I spent another three days in bed before they let me go. Rafe and Etienne had already gone home. I told them to, their families and friends waited. Sir Juan and Lopez took me around Jacksonville and we went out once with Roxy and the Sergeants. Roxy and Johnson were an item again, or still. She liked playing to his jealousy. I quickly tired of those games and got on a Lifter west.
My credit was good with the Garda, so I got a surplus staff car and drove south into North Mexico. Mi Madre was glad to see me. "You look more like my Chuy now." I visited a few days and continued south to Chihuahua. Tio met me on the porch with a big smile. "It is good to see you, Chuy. We saved the Reposado for your return." He opened the door for me. "Your cousins have been hounding me for a bottle."
End replay of subject Navarro, J
Excerpt of mission debrief DT-313-1
Narrative feed with minimum paraphrasing
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