The Seraphs Call - Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

0605 Hours - March 04, 2049 Longreach Aircraft

The satellite uplink indicator went red.  Kovax yelled across to the communications suite, “Get the link back up.  We lost Comms with the team.” 

The response from the suite surprised Kovax, “Sir, we didn’t lose Comms.  The team did.  Their SatCom link is down hard.”

“Try another satellite, switch the signal.  Do something,” Kovax yelled back.

“Sir, there’s nothing we can do, their link is down hard.  I can’t switch something I can’t connect with,” grunted to comm. specialist in frustration.

A voice came from behind the curtain into the main seating area, “Dr. Kovax, are we having problems?

Kovax’ anger flared, “Roger, this is exactly what I was talking about.  The team wasn’t ready.  If you have given me more time, we could have installed the neural comm. links and avoided this problem.  We would have at least had something.  Now we have no Comms whatsoever.” 

“Dr. Kovax, I am well aware of what was finished and what was not finished.” The blue-gray vinyl curtain swung to the side as Janus entered.  “Your job is to make sure the team carries out their mission—no matter what.  Any mission issues will be handled at the post mission briefing.  Is that clear?”

“Mission issues,” Kovax spat.  “You call losing Comms with our team in hostile territory a mission issue.  How dare you, you arrogant b*****d.  Those men down there are putting their lives on the line, and you call this a “mission issue.”

“Dr. Kovax, these men knew what they were getting into, and are trained for such eventualities.  If you can’t handle the job, I will gladly take over, and ensure your removal from the project.”

Kovax paused.  He knew that if Janus took over, the team would be as good as dead.  Roger was a politician, no longer a scientist.  He would not hesitate to sacrifice the team for his personal gain.  “No.  That’ll be all right.  I’ll handle it, but I’m registering my official protest on this when we get back.”

Janus smiled and walked away, “Your protest is noted, Dr. Kovax.  If you want to save your precious team, I’d advise you get back to work.  I have other problems more pressing then this small hitch.”

Roger Janus stepped into the forward compartment and pulled the small satellite phone from his flight suit pocket.  The private SatCom link warbled as the encryption string was initiated.  Ten seconds was all it took for the link to be established.  Roger keyed the microphone and spoke, ‘Mr. Vice President, the Longreach team has reached their final objective.  However, we have lost communications.  We are trying….

He was cut off by the voice of Vice President Porter screaming into the phone, “What the hell do you mean, you lost communications?  “What the hell are you doing?  The team is in hostile territory and you’re acting like they got lost on the way to church.  You better pull your head out of your a*s and fix this now!”  The line went silent.

Kovax hovered over the communications technician and watched as the technician tried to reestablish communications.  No luck.  The team’s comm. link was out of commission.  Kovax could do nothing but hope that they made it out alive.

0615 Hours - March 04, 2049 – Longreach Team

Fifteen minutes had elapsed and Sgt Johnny Walker, the team’s com man had not reported.  Walker had entered the building at 0550 and established lookout, watching the road entering the compound.  At 0600, they had lost Comms with Walker.  Captain Derek Madison, hidden in the shadows, scanned the compound.  He was worried.  He motioned to Staff Sergeant Cesar Mateo, holding two fingers to his eyes, and then pointing to the building.  Mateo understood.

Mateo entered the main administration building.  The rays of the morning twilight flickered over the walls, providing just enough light for him to make out the shadows.

Pre-mission intelligence had indicated that a contingent of the twelve highest ranking Chinese officials; the State Council, including the General Secretary of the Central Committee, was scheduled to arrive at the compound at sunrise for a special party meeting.  Also attending the meeting was the newly appointed State Council member for Taiwan, recently annexed by force by the PLA Army.  At that time, the team was to eliminate all members, and create a major diversion, and escape. 

There was no noise.  The nocturnal insects had stopped their sounds, as if in warning to the coming of the morning sun.  The team, like everything around them could not move, the slightest noise giving away their position.  The guards patrolling the compound made their rounds, unaware that eleven men and women, hidden in the shadows of the twilight, were *watching their every move, waiting for the moment to strike. 

The trees, which lined the interior of the compound, were perfect cover.  With no sniper, they would have to surprise all the guards at once, taking them out in one swift coordinated movement. 

Staff Sergeant Cesar Mateo was the only team member not in the compound.  He had managed to maneuver his way inside, to check on Walker.  Only two guards patrolled the interior of the building and Walker had already taken care of one of them.  Mateo watched, crouched in the darkened alcove, as the second guard approached.  Silently sliding the razor sharp assassin knife from sheath on his calf, he waited, observing as the guard check the locked doors. 

As the guard passed, Mateo made his move, stepping from the alcove directly behind the man, covering his mouth with his powerful left hand and twisting his neck.  The twelve-inch long knife flashed in the darkness, as he drove the blade deep into the man’s brain through the base of his skull, twisting the blade to sever the cortex.  He was dead within seconds, no sound escaping his lips as Mateo lowered the body to the floor.   He quickly wiped the blade on the man’s shirt and slipped in back into its home on his leg.

Mateo checked his GPS.  He was only 20 meters away from Walker’s last reported position.  As he turned the corner to the main hallway, he saw the light coming from an open doorway.  Pressed against the wall, he could see the pool of spreading blood on the floor, the morning sun’s ray starting to brighten the passage.  Carefully, he moved, constantly checking his six o’clock position (behind him) for any movement.  When he neared the door, he lowered himself to the floor and quickly glanced around the corner into the open room.  There was no one.

Pushing himself to his feet, he moved cautiously toward Walker’s position, ten meters away.  As he approached the door, the door diagonally across the hall from his position, the odor hit him.  It was the odor of death.  It came after the body stopped functioning; the final death throws expelling all the interior contents; the smell of the mix of feces, urine and blood all combining to make a noxious olfactory cocktail. 

Mateo checked the hall in both directions.  Seeing it was clear, he quick-stepped across, stopping with back against the wall adjoining the door.   He slipped the knife from its resting place, and peeked around the corner.  The cloud of unpleasant odors wafted into his face, causing his gag reflex to react.  He held back the urge, and scanned the room.  In the dim light, he could see Walker lying on the floor, the large sword protruding from his head.  Even from this distance, Mateo could tell he was dead.  On the right side of the room, Mateo caught sight of what, at first glance, appeared to be a guard.  He too looked dead.

Stepping into the room, he moved to the guard.  There was no help for Walker.  He couldn’t see any sign of injury on the guard and checked his pulse.  He was still alive and he wasn’t an ordinary guard.  This one was an officer and a high-ranking one at that.  Mateo knew he shouldn’t, but decided to break radio silence and keyed his throat microphone, “Deke, this is Mex.  Walker’s dead.  We have one bad guy here still alive and he looks important.  Over.”

Madison couldn’t reply.  One of the guards in the compound and was close to his position.  You stupid s**t, what the f**k are you thinking breaking radio silence.  He double clicked his microphone in response.  Only four minutes remained before the convoy of dignitaries was supposed to arrive and he saw no movement to suggest anything was to happen.  If the intel was right, then the guards should be heading to the main gate to ready the entrance, but nothing was happening. 

Mateo pulled the zip ties and duct tape from his vest, and bound the unconscious Xiang Po’s hands and feet and bound them behind the General’s back.  Tearing a strip of cloth from Xiang shirt, he balled it up and shoved it in the squat general's mouth, securing it in place with a piece of duct tape.  This one wasn’t going anywhere.  He crouched, keeping his eyes on the road approaching the compounding and shuffled over to Walker’s body. Though he knew Walker was already dead, he still checked his pulse.  Nothing. 

He pulled the dog tags from around Walker’s neck and GPS unit from his wrist and slipped them into his vest-pocket.  At least these would be going home.  He grabbed the MP-5 from the floor and shouldered the sling, swinging it around to his back. 

He glanced back at the road and saw three cars and two trucks approaching. Oh s**t.  He quickly keyed the microphone and spoke, almost too loudly, “Leader, this is Mex.  We have a shitload of Charlie Tangos (Chinese Troops) coming down the road.  I see three cars and two trucks and they’re only ½ a klick away.  I’m heading back to my position in the compound.  Over.”

Two clicks were all he heard.

Derek Madison heard the message, as he was sure the rest of the team did, about the convoy approaching the compound.  He watched as the Chinese guards began scurrying around the compound, running to the gate and getting in formation for the convoy’s arrival.  There would be little time before everything went to hell in a hand basket, and Longreach would be delivering it, up close and personal.

Derek watched as the gates swung wide, both opening inward.  From his position, he couldn’t see the other team members, but could make out the driver of the first vehicle who was unaware of anything about to happen.  Derek whispered into his microphone, “Team, this is leader. Standby.  2 Mikes and counting on my mark.”  He glanced at his watch and set the timer to two minutes.  Keying his microphone, he spoke only one word, “Mark” and pressed the button on his watch, starting the countdown timer.  He knew the other team members had done the same.  If Intel was right, it would take two minutes for all five vehicles to get in the compound and park.  Six of the Longreach members would take out the guards in the compound and the remaining seven, now six with Walker dead, would take out the targets in the vehicles, before they could get out. 

The door to the main guardhouse swung open again.  Madison recognized the black on black uniforms, and his stomach lurched.  Intel had missed an important detail.  They were Chinese Special Forces.

They were fanning out to secure all covered approaches to the convoy.  He had seconds to decide or the team would be flushed.  Retreat and regroup to work out a new on the spot plan, or spring it now. 

He gritted his teeth and punched the broadcast to tightbeam on his comm.  He had to risk breaking radio silence, hoping that point-to-point laser burst would be too quick for the enemy to intercept.  “Mateo, uplink to command, we need an egress route into the admin building and quickly.”

0620 Hours - March 04, 2049

Mateo watched in horror as more than forty black uniformed Special Forces fanned out about the convoy.  Half held their position and the other half proceeded to a standard sweep and secure of the perimeter.  He jacked his NNI into the satellite uplink, and launched his field interface protocol.  Got to find the quickest way out, only seconds before a wholesale slaughter, with my buds on the receiving end.

He felt his mind dissolve into the interface, and the reality of the physical and the cyber melded in his vision.  He pulled up the Intel on the People’s Party headquarters, and the silvered slipstream of a three-dimensional remote mapping blueprint overlaid the field of battle.  The enemy glowed red on his interface as they moved closer to his team’s positions.

He punched up all possible routes of egress with a touch of his gloved finger in the nonexistent cyber either.  The silver traces immediately began to fall, devoured in red as the enemy secured them.  One chance offered the most cover.  The only problem was the route lay straight in the center of an ever-tightening noose.  “You’re not going to like this captain.  The best way out involves a swim in the drainage field.  Good news; There is a sewage cul-de-sac that pipes straight up under the building. The bad news: you’re going to have to make the entire trip underwater.”

“S**t” was Madison’s only response over the headset.  Though the game they were playing was deadly, a quick smile crossed Mateo lips. 

0621 Hours - March 04, 2049

The call had come over the com to pull back, and Sergeant Reginald Lee found himself in a dilemma.  Fluent in his native tongue Cantonese, dressed in a PLA army uniform, he posed as one of the security guards the team had permanently decommissioned.  He had set up at the guard station in front of the storage area in order to not alarm their target, the convoy quickly approaching.  His position was in clear sight of the arriving dignitaries.  The mission objective assigned, to give Longreach an added element of surprise when he let loose on the target at close range with the AK74 he toted.

Over forty new targets almost instantly as they filed from the trucks.  Lee let the Chinese Special Forces pass him.  He was too close to the convoy to avoid them, but would slip away after they passed his position.  Standing at attention, mimicking the rest of the PLA regulars that surrounded the convoy, he waited, his hands clutching his weapon tightly.

Lee watched in helpless dismay, the 3D Blueprint of the complex.  The Chinese were more efficient then expected, the red dots massed and were cutting off the escape routes for four of his teammates.  “Leader…”  He keyed his short burst transmitter hidden beneath his collar.  “The plans have changed.”

0622 Hours - March 04, 2049

Shielded by the guardhouse wall, Wilkes crouched, with Anderson at her back, and watched as the PLA Special Forces troops filed from the first truck into the compound, fanning out in all directions, quickly closing on their position.  She reached and tapped Anderson on the leg, motioning for him to move back.  The rain-induced darkness would hide them temporarily, but she knew the troops would find both of them before long.  She keyed the short burst transmitter and spoke, “Leader, Team two.  We are cut off.  There’s no way out, but we’ll give it our best.” 

0623 Hours - March 04, 2049

Derek Madison cursed under his breath.  He knew it had been too good to be true.  Intel had screwed them again.  Keying the microphone, he spoke, “Team Two, Leader. Negative.  Get your asses out of there.  Team One, provide cover fire.  Teams three and four, retreat to the gate.  Watcher, Lookout, pull back.”

0624 Hours - March 04, 2049 –

Wilkes turned to Anderson and whispered, “There no way we’re gonna get outta here, and you know it.  Let’s take these b******s out.” 

Anderson reached out and grabbed her wrist, “You’re one hell of a soldier, Wilkes” and smiled with resignation, “Let’s do this!”

They looked at each other, slipped the mics from their throats and pulled two grenades from their vest pockets, setting them on the ground at their feet.  Their endless hours of training took over as they removed the magazines from their MP8s, checked the ammo count, both sixty round magazines fully loaded and taped back to back.  Each chambered a round, sat the weapons at their feet, and retrieved the fragmentation grenades.  All done in less than 10 seconds.

They stood, grenades in their hands, facing the PLA Special forces closing on their position.  Wilkes turned her head and glanced at the taller Anderson, not a word said.  He only nodded.  Only seconds apart, they pulled the pins on both grenades with opposite index fingers, and flipped the spoon off the one in the right.  As if synchronized, they both tossed, watching the grenades arc through the air and land at the feet of a group of the PLA troops near the trucks.  Without hesitating, they passed the remaining grenade to their right hand, flipped the spoons, and sent them flying through the air to land at the feet of the PLA Special Operations troops closest to their position.  They bent down and recovered their locked and loaded MP8s from the ground.

The first two grenades exploded, sending heated metal shards flying through the air at high velocity, the bright flash of light temporarily blinding everyone with a ten radius.  The blast killed four members of the Chinese forces instantly, having been only three feet from where the grenades landed.

The second two grenades exploded in brilliant showers of light, sending the metal fragments flying through the air, lifting one of the approaching troops off the ground and sent him careening off-the-wall.  The resulting shrapnel of the blast caught two more, tearing their bodies to shreds, killing them instantly. 

Wilkes and Anderson raised their weapons to their shoulders.  They aimed and fired, sending three round bursts from their silenced weapons into the bodies of the approaching forces, watching them fall under the impact of the heavy full metal jacket rounds.

The Chinese Special Forces were only caught off guard briefly and quickly located the source of the weapons fire.  Turning their attention to the alcove beyond the wall, and though unable to see through the rain, the remaining thirteen troops opened fire, sending a hail of molten lead in Anderson and Wilkes’ direction.  Anderson was the first hit, taking a heavy 7.62MM round in the leg just above her kneecap.  She stood her ground, grimacing from the pain, but continued to fire into the approaching troops. 

The nanites coursed through her system, stemming the flow of blood, shutting down the nerve receptors.  The pain subsided to a dull throb as they increased the adrenaline and dopamine in her system.

The impact of the round to his shoulder nearly took Anderson off his feet, as the hot lead bored into his muscle, leaving a gaping on hole in his back as the round exited.  His right arm hung lifeless at his side, his hand still gripping the weapon, his brain fighting hard to regain the awareness he lost.  Again, the nanites fled to the site of the wound, working feverishly to stop the flow of blood from the small arteries and veins, shutting down all nerve receptors around the wound.  With his left hand, he pried loose the weapon still gripped by his useless right hand, and aimed at the troops, now close to their position and continued firing, taking out two more.  They had taken out eleven of the twenty plus troops.  Now the odds were only five to one.

Another hollow-point round slammed into Wilkes side, entering below her fourth rib, shattering it and deflating her lung as it passed through her body and exited out the back,  She gasped for air and slumped, unable to breath.  The light began to fade as she struggled for consciousness, the nanites now dividing their efforts between the wound in her leg and the one in her chest.  The adrenaline levels peaked, the dopamine reaching critical levels as the nanites, by their preprogrammed functions, worked voraciously to save their host. 

Wilkes stumbled back, nearly falling over.  Anderson moved up, holding up his body with hers.  Another round grazed the side of his head, setting his skull on fire as it furrowed a path from his left eye through his left ear and out the back of this skull.  He tried to shake off the pain, the impact temporarily blinding him, the smell of burning flesh and hair filling his nostrils.

0625 Hours - March 04, 2049

Lt. Jake Zakowski and Master Sgt. Gerald Smith could do nothing but watch as their teammates came under the slaughterous fire.  Ordered to retreat to the fallback position near the rear service gate, they reluctantly did so, leaving Anderson and Wilkes to fend for themselves, the wave of enemy troops slowly enveloping their position.  If they fired at the Chinese Special Forces, they would give away their position, possibly compromising the entire mission.  They turned to run, along the west wall of the administration building to the North wall of the complex, skimming the hedgerow as they made their way to the gate.

0626Hours - March 04, 2049

Lee looked towards the gate and saw the Chinese troops moving in his direction, spreading out and cutting off Jackson and Frost’s escape.  From the cover of the first building nearest the gate, he knelt and raised the AK74 to his shoulder.  Through the downpour, he sighted in on the first man, and fired.  The large caliber round took the running man between the eyes, snapping his head back, flinging his body to the ground.

The remaining Chinese troops saw the flash of light from his muzzle and returned fire, the rounds kicking up the dirt around him, splintering pieces of concrete into his face.  The AK74 bucked in his hands as he fired round after round, moving the barrel of the gun only inches as he drew a bead on each of the approaching enemy.  Within seconds, he had taken out three of the Chinese troops, their bodies dropping at the feet of their comrades.

0628 hours - March 04, 2049

Staff Sergeant James Jackson and Sergeant Billy Frost, weapons at the ready, watched as the Chinese troops converged on the Lee’s position.  Jackson pulled the remaining one-pound block of C5 plastique and detonator from his vest-pocket, looked at Frost and smiled.  For Lee to have any chance of getting out of this alive, they would have to do something quickly. 

Jackson, the team’s explosive expert, molded the plastique into a ball, and tossed it Frost, who nervously caught it with both hands, dropping his weapon on the muddied ground.  Jackson motioned for Frost to hold out his hands and jammed the detonator into the plastic explosive, setting the timer for five seconds and whispered, “When I press this button, throw this at the truck as hard as you can.”  He then pressed the button, pushing the detonator deeper within the ball.

Frost, an all-star pitcher in high school, stepped from behind the wall, wound up and with all his strength, rocketed the ball at the side of the truck.  The timer had already reached two seconds when it struck the side of the truck and stuck.  He barely heard Jackson shout “Duck” a second before the ball exploded.

The force of the blast lifted the truck off its rear wheels, annihilating six of the Chinese troops.  Frost felt the wave of heat and barely escaped the fireball.  The explosion consumed the truck, and the fuel tanks exploded, sending liquid fire in all directions, catching the three cars and other trucks in its wake.

The Chinese troops, temporarily thrown into disarray, quickly regrouped, splitting off into two groups, one in the Lee’s direction and the other toward Jackson and Frost, firing their weapons.

Frost unslung the M249A2 Squad Assault Weapon from his back, and chambered a round.  He pointed the weapon towards the approaching troops and squeezed the trigger.  The muzzle flash extended over two feet from the weapon as the rounds poured out at over one thousand per minute.  The SAW created a path of destruction through the Chinese ranks, nearly cutting them in two as the stream of lead tore through bodies at a monstrous rate.  Frost emptied the first magazine of the five hundred rounds in thirty seconds and changed to the second. 

Jackson skillfully took out those that escaped Frost, his silenced MP-8 on full auto.  Brute power, and a finesse of death combined.  For a brief moment, it appeared as if Longreach might win the day.

0630 Hours - March 04, 2049

Lee felt the heat of the blast and the truck blew apart, the stream of ignited gasoline spewing in all directions, the Chinese troops diving for cover, trying to the escape the liquid death.  He continued to fire, changing magazine after magazine, the bullets from the enemy weapons ricocheting close to him.

The first round caught him in the left arm, spinning him around and slamming him against the concrete wall.  He turned back to the troops and fired wildly, sending the large caliber rounds into their bodies.  The second round caught him in his left thigh, the burning lead boring through his muscle.  A third round splintered his left knee and he fell, barely keeping hold of the AK as he hit the ground.  He rolled over on his elbow to lift the weight from his leg and keep firing, but it was too late.  Several Chinese dragged the weapon from his grasp, and he felt the cold press of a gun muzzle against his head.  Lee closed his eyes a split second before the gun fired.

0630 Hours - March 04, 2049

Frost grimly fired back to back with Jackson.  With the combination of the Indian’s destructive swath and the spindly black mans well-placed three round bursts they routed their enemy targets.  They fought towards Lee’s position, but could not get through before the Special Forces downed their comrade.  Their rage propelled them through the last troops, just as Lee was executed. Frost tossed his spent weapon and snarled, pulling two bright tomahawks from his belt as he leapt toward the enemy surrounding Lee.

A roaring bellow alerted the Chinese who were checking Lee’s body, only seconds before Frost barreled into them.  The big Indian unleashed a berserk fury, slashing through three men with his steel tomahawks, before the others could react to his presence. They tried to bring their weapons to bear, but Jackson who followed closely behind Frost, picked them off before they could aim.

0632 Hours - March 04, 2049

Madison’s worst nightmare had become a reality, as he watched the carefully planned mission fell apart.  He saw Anderson and Wilkes’ escape route cut off on the VR display, and Lee fall as he tried to come to their aid.  Now Frost and Jackson engaged in near hand combat with the Chinese that had taken out Lee.  “Damnit, I’m not going to lose any more men.”  He turned to Sgt Joseph Laughler, his backup, “lay me some cover; I’m getting them out of there.”

Laughler one of the newest editions to the team, flashed his pretty boy Miami grin at Derek.  “Keep low Chief, we don’t wanna lose you too.”

Madison his HK blaring broke into a dead run towards Frost and Jack, as Laughler knelt, braced to aim and began picking off the Chinese that tried to block the Captain’s path.  Madison hit three of the men engaging Frost and Jackson with successive three round bursts.  Caught in crossfire the Chinese fell into disarray, and fled.

Frost and Jackson did not stop killing as their enemy ran.  The big Indian threw his tomahawks one after the other with deadly accuracy, killing two more then snatched a fallen AK 74 and opened fire.  Between him, Jackson and Madison, the battlefield was covered with black uniformed bodies.  Frost stood frozen over Lee’s body even after the last enemy was butchered, it was only when Derek grabbed his arm, that he was dragged back from his core of rage, and bent down to recover his bloodied tomahawks. 

Derek keyed his transmitter, “Laughler, move up and lay 20 mike mike cover fire for Anderson and Wilkes.  Mateo, fall back, everyone else, hold your position.  Wilkes, Anderson, hold tight we’re coming for you.” 

Madison didn’t wait for a response, knowing his team members would do their job.  Within seconds the first of the many 20mm grenades began exploding towards the far truck, shredding bodies as the HE grenades impacted with ground and machine.  The furthest car exploded, the fireball enveloping the members within, the remaining fuel erupting into a fireball catching the second car on fire. 

Jackson, Frost and Madison moved quickly toward the gate, circling the truck, their weapons at the ready.  No sooner than they had approached the gate, the squealing of tires caught their attention, the mass of bodies pouring from the back of the three trucks, carrying reinforcements, skidding to a halt just outside the main gate. 

Laughler fell under a barrage of heavy fire, as the enemy units took out targets in order of highest threat.  They quickly turned their attentions to the remaining four men and put down a wilting barrage of fire.  Madison covered their retreat until Frost and Jackson could reach the safety of the storage buildings.  From cover the Indian laid a spread of rounds that spat death into the enemy ranks, as Madison hurled himself after them.

The rounds whizzed over their heads, Madison caught a slug in his shoulder, sending him to the ground.  He pushed himself to his feet, and spun, flipping the MP8 to full auto, spraying the wave of troops moving their way.  Jackson jerked as a hot round struck and shattered his collarbone, ricocheting off and embedding itself into the soft flesh of his neck.  He was too angry to feel the pain and kept firing, the pain shrieking down his shoulder as the Nanites did their job trying to repair the damage caused by the large round. 

Frost flicked the selector switch on the AK74 to full auto, sweeping the line of Chinese that converged on them.  The enemy round slammed into his forearm and passed through, missing the bone before stopping in his side.  He didn’t feel the wound, and changed magazines, slamming a new round home and emptied it in short order, killing more of the troops.

Derek Madison quickly evaluated their situation and yelled, “pull back, there’s too many of them.” 

Frost and Jackson kept firing, emptying magazine after magazine as the three men pulled back through the supply buildings.  The Chinese Army platoons surged forward sensing a collapse of their enemies’ capabilities, their bullets slamming scant inches from their targets as the Longreach team played fight and run.

“Jackson,” Madison yelled over the din of weapons fire, “Wait till we’re in the access ramp to the truck and start blowing our surprises.”

The black man smiled manically and pulled the relay transmitter from his belt.  “Sure thing Captain.”

They fought building to building as they retreated, the Chinese charging after them in close pursuit.  They were within sight of the truck when Derek yelled “Now Jackson.”

The explosions rocked the compound as the south most buildings blew apart, incinerating the first ranks of their pursuers.

0632 Hours - March 04, 2049

Two more rounds hit Wilkes, one to her left thigh, the other to her left shoulder, the impact staggering both her and Anderson.  Another round torn into Anderson’s leg causing him to fall back.  With no support, they both slumped to the ground, their backs slamming into the corner of the wall.  The Chinese troops were only ten yards away, but they kept up their fire, emptying their magazines into the oncoming troops. 

The silence came, both weapons clicking on empty chambers as they expended the last of the rounds.  Wilkes turned her head to look at Anderson and in a weak voice, she spoke, “Don’t let them take me like this, Toby.  Not like this.  Take it out of my neck, now!”  She pulled her pistol from her holster, fired, now unable to aim accurately, the rounds only serving the hold the enemy forces back for just moments longer.

Anderson, through blood filled eyes, pulled the razor sharp Arkansas toothpick from its sheath, “This is gonna hurt, Kassie.” and jammed the blade three inches into the flesh on the right side of her neck, dragging the blade down, slicing her open to the shoulder.  Wilkes tried to fight back the burning pain, but was unable and screamed as he dug his fingers into her neck cavity and located the implant, yanking it from the soft flesh deep within.  The bullets continued to slam around them, tearing into their flesh, the nanites now overwhelmed, spreading throughout their bodies in a last-ditch effort to save their hosts.

Anderson felt Wilkes body slump as the life ebbed from her, her brain no longer able to tolerate the monumental pain, causing her to slip into the unconsciousness before death.  He jerked the last grenade from his bandoleer, and pulled the pin.  He gripped it tightly to his chest between Kassie’s body and his as the final found pierced his right eye, exploding the contents of his skull all over the wall behind. 

The lifeless bodies of Anderson and Wilkes lay motionless as the Chinese troops approached, firing round after round into them, only stopping when they disfigured them beyond recognition.  The first Chinese soldier pulled Kassie’s body away, tossing it aside and raise the rifle, pummeling her skull into a pulp.  He didn’t see the grenade roll onto the ground until it was too late and watched in horror as his legs were removed from his body by the concussive force.  Three other troops were killed by the fragmentation grenade exploding, the deadly shards flying through the air slicing through their soft tissue with ease.

The virus capsule, now exploded by the grenade, released its deadly toxins into the air, spreading to all within its reach, the spores attaching themselves to any flesh exposed to the air.   Within minutes, the first signs began to appear, the spores rapidly destroying any flesh with which they touched, liquefying the internal mucus membranes and ravaging the bodies of those unlucky enough to make first contact.  The virus traveled rapidly into the body cavity, quickly multiplying as it fed off the living tissue, destroying the bodies as the cell walls were turned to mush.  Lucifer X had been released.

0633 Hours - March 04, 2049

Zakowski and Smith ran along the admin building wall, glancing back only momentarily to watch for pursuit.  Smith didn’t see the source as the stray round pierced his neck, his forward momentum now propelling him forward to the ground.  Zakowski heard the noise and turned, and watched as Smith somersaulted through the air, slamming face first into the concrete walkway.  Spinning on his heels, he knelt and rolled Smith over, and saw the wound.  The bullet had entered on the right side and exited through the left, nearly tearing out the Master Sergeant throat, blood pouring from the open wounds.

Smith grabbed the young Lieutenant by the neck, pulled him close, “Lt, you have to leave,” the blood now filling his throat, “The implant’s broken.  I can feel it. Go! Now!”, and tried to shove Zakowski away with what strength remained in him.

As if his words were prophetic, Zakowski heard the hiss escaping from Smith’s neck and reeled back, frantically holding his breath.  The body of the Master Sergeant dissolved before his eyes as the Lucifer virus decimated the internal organs, the flesh collapsing around them as the fluid spilled onto the ground around him.  Zakowski turned and fled, the horrific scene burned into his mind.   He continued running until he reached the hedgerow and turned, sprinting to the service gate some one hundred yards away.

0634 Hours - March 04, 2049 - Longreach Aircraft

On the Skyhawk, eighty thousand feet above the battlefield, the overlay of the compound had turned to red as enemy troops massed into the complex.  Kovax slammed his fist into the console as one by one the life-signs on the team went to the danger yellow, or assumed the red glare of death.  “Damn it Janus we’re going to lose them all.”

“Activate the Lucifer protocol.”  Janus’ response was calm and cold as ice.

“No you sick f****n b*****d, we have six men still fighting down there.  They still have a chance.”  Kovax turned to Janus his face white with anger.

“You evaluated correctly on first instinct Gregory, they are surrounded without the possibility of escape.”  He pointed to the infrared of the enemy units moving to block the service entrance, the last planned escape route blocked.  “Activate the protocol or I will.”

“No, I will not allow you to destroy the team when they still have a chance of escape,” Kovax surged from his seat, reaching for Janus.

Kovax found himself facing the muzzle of a 9 mm berretta, and Janus laughed.  “Unlike you, I will kill to complete my mission, even you, if you get in my way Gregory.”

“The f*****g mission has failed Janus…what in the hell are you talking about.” Kovax carefully backed away.

“I forgot to tell you Gregory, I took the liberty of further adjusting the implants before you injected them into the team.”  Janus matched Kovax move for move.  “They are equipped with something extra in case of catastrophic mission failure.  A micro charge will detonate the implants remotely turning each of those six men into my weapons. Lucifer will wipe out the entire compound.  Mission complete.”

“You planned this…it’s a population center of over twenty million down there.  You can’t,” Kovax gasped.

Janus pushed the button “Acceptable collateral damage.”

The signal raced through the atmosphere to the comm. units of the team members.  The units functioned as programmed, relaying the signal to the Lucifer capsules, starting the countdown to the extinction of Twenty million souls.  Men, women, and children went about their lives, unaware they would die this day.