The Seraphs Call - Chapter Twenty Four

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

June 17, 2049 – 0900 Hours - Somewhere in the Blue Ridge Mountains

Pain pervaded his senses.  With every slight movement, he felt the overwhelming wish just to end it all.  But he fought this back for some half remembered reason.  During his lifetime, some had accused him of having an overweening sense of duty, some an arrogant pride, some a stubborn refusal to lie down and die.  Whatever it was, Daryl Rathborn knew, the focal point, the hinge of his effort, was Gabriel Scott.  Without the idealistic drive of his young genius, this old jaded soldier would have preferred just to sit back, ease his wounds against the soft-mossed boulder that he now climbed higher across, and lay on this ridge forever.  With its stunning view, he would never have to see the rest of the world ending around him.

He should be dead.  He surveyed the furrowed scar in the land below that his helicopter had left at impact.  The wreckage scattered for a quarter of a mile as far as he could estimate.

 What where these nanites doing to him?  He sometimes thought he felt them crawling under his skin.  Though he knew it must be his imagination, it still made his skin crawl.  And the hallucinations that had caused the crash, memories so vivid and painful that they became as real as if they were happening to him now, swarmed out of doors in his mind that were better left shut.  Equally disturbing, was that he could remember things from the span of his life, inane or otherwise, as if they had just happened minutes ago.  Yet they were not swirling and unorganized chaos like most memories became over time.  They were sharp, clear, accessed easily, as if they had been programmed that way.

Then, at times, he found himself having thoughts that he were not his own.  It was if another voice struggled for an audience inside his head.  Had the nanite A.I. he secured in Langley merged with his body and his awareness?  He did not like the feeling that was becoming more and more clear to him, that Gabriel had purposefully hidden some of what Angel abilities were just so he would allow the A.I. to inhabit him.  Was he being used as an unwitting guinea pig?  If not, what else could it be?  He shook his head as much from the pain of walking as frustration.  When I get back to Stone Mountain, Gabriel, you have much to answer for.

 

June 17, 2049 – 0930 Hours Delta Force MH-60W Helo - Blue Ridge Mountains

Desdin glanced at the beacon locator in his hand, the signal from Rathborn’s transponder growing stronger as they expanded their search pattern.  They had covered nearly forty square miles of territory before the beacon began emitting a bearing coordinate to Rathborn’s transponder.  The screen read 290 degrees and Desdin spoke over the headset, “We’ve got a reading of Two Niner Zero, but no range yet.  Jeremy, take us on that course and drop us down.  It may help us get a better signal.”

“Roger,” Jeremy responded and pushed forward on the yolk putting the MH60 into the steep dive, leveling off at 100 feet, barely clearing many of the tall pines which lined the valley of the Blue Ridge Mountain Range.  He maneuvered the helo, bringing it around to steady on the new course and spoke, “Colonel, we are on course. What do you have on the signal?”

Desdin glanced at the beacon locator and saw the signal strength had improved, he was now picking up Rathborn’s signal at four by four, nearly perfect, and the bearing indication was lit solid.

As they weaved back and forth through the valleys and over the tree covered ridges, the beacon locator started beeping; reading the signal from Rathborn’s transponder was strong enough to provide range information.  The display showed 23 miles.  They had him.  “Jeremy, we’ve got him.  Twenty-three and a half miles on course 292.  Let’s go get him,” Desdin spoke, a brief smile crossing his lips as he gave a thumbs-up to the three Delta force men seated across from him.

The experienced helo pilot turned the throttle on the cyclic and nosed the helo forward, pushing the big bird to its maximum rated speed.  The wind rushed through the cabin, buffeted Desdin and the Delta force men as the approached nearly three hundred knots, rushing them to Rathborn. 

They covered the distance in less than eight minutes, cresting the ridge, the signal now reading five by five on the locator beacon.  Desdin heard a low whistle come over the comm. followed by and “Oh s**t, you better take a look at this” from Jeremy, as he flared the helo to a near standstill, only the harnesses holding the occupants in place.

Desdin unstrapped as the helo, now hovering at one hundred and twenty feet, began a slow vertical descent to the tree line.  He stepped into the cockpit, leaned over Svenson’s shoulder, and looked out the view port to the valley floor below.  The wreckage that had once been Rathborn’s helicopter was strewn over a mile long swath cut deep into the forest.

“He couldn’t have survived that Desdin.  That’s one hell of an impact.”

“We’re going in anyway, Jeremy.  He’s not dead until I have a body in my hands.”

“I can’t land here.  There’s nowhere to put it down.  Looks like you’ll have to jump.”

Desdin smacked the pilot lightly on the helmet, “Very funny, A*****e.  Just get us as close as you can, and we’ll fast line it to the ground.  Find a safe place to put this thing, and we’ll call you if we need you.”  He turned and stepped into the cargo area.  

The Delta Force team was already preparing their lines for the quick descent to forest floor.  He grabbed the repelling rig and slipped it on, cinching the strap in place and wrapping the line around the D ring.

Two men stood on each skid of the helo, leaning backwards, only the lines holding them in place.  As Jeremy brought the bird to within eighty feet of the ground, all four leapt away from the skids, allowing the black repelling rope to slip through their hands, their speed increasing as they rocketed toward the ground.  All four men stopped within three feet of the ground, gripping the line at the last second, the elasticity of the rope bringing them back into the air.  Before the second bounce on the lines, all released the straps and dropped, pushing the lines away, and rolling into the brush.  They watched as the helo pulled away, the four black lines waving behind it, climbed steep into the morning sun to the east.  Desdin watched as Jeremy disappeared over the hilltops and signaled to the other men.  They turned and trotted into the thick forest, Desdin in the lead, heading toward the crash site.

 

June 17, 2049 – 0945 Hours - Blue Ridge Mountains Park Ranger Station 23

Damien grimaced as his Sirkorsky settled to the ground, the twin rotor-blades causing a bounce and lift before its downward momentum stopped.  He had never liked riding in any of the thirty plus helos that his company owned, but special circumstances overruled that distaste by need.  Looking over he saw Saul was oblivious to the minor bump on landing, studying business documents as if this was a weekend retreat, and not something that may put them into a firefight with forces unknown before all was finished.  Saul’s only sacrifice to this outing had been his expensively tailored suit.  He had replaced it with an equally expensive camo jumpsuit that Damien could well assume was lined with dozens of pockets filled with an armament equal to the task of protecting Damien and ten others if necessary.  The rear compartment opened and Damien watched as Captain Nodachi and his twenty men filed into the six black homes, heavily armed and armored, waiting outside the aircraft.

“We’ve got the lead vehicle with Captain Nodachi and five of his men.  From what I have from Intel, we can take the humvees to within 10 clicks of Rathborn’s transponder.”  Saul showed Damien a green topographical map with roads in blue and the coordinates of their destination stenciled in red.  “Then we’ll have to pack it in the rest of the way on foot.”

            The front compartment door opened revealing a severe looking short Japanese man sporting captain’s bars on his camos, standing outside waiting for them.  “Location is secured Mr. Demoir, the Ranger tried to give us some grief for landing here, but the cover papers Mr. Iverson provided worked admirably.”

            “Thank you Captain Nodachi,” Damien turned to Saul.  “Just what did you tell the Ranger we where doing here?”

            Saul gave him one of his rare and evil smiles, “Corporate Survival training, what else?”

            They landed from the helicopter and walked towards the lead humvee, Captain Nodachi bringing up the rear.  Damien chuckled as he noticed the Park Ranger, eyeing the heavily armed convoy suspiciously.  “I hope this is more on the training side, and less on the survival Saul.  How long do you think it will be till the Ranger wises up and calls this in?”

            “No worries Boss, we’ll be ghosts long before the idea seeps into his thick head.”  Saul laughed as they climbed into the Humvee.  The convoy pulled out, leaving a cloud of dust to obscure the road, the only sign of its presence as it climbed swiftly into the hills.

 

June 17, 2049 – 1000 Hours – Longreach Transport - 1000 ft above Blue Ridge Mountains

 

            “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking,” Shu’s voice blared over the comm. in the rear compartment.  “We are approaching our final destination, as there are no airports or tarmacs for a great distance all passengers will be required to jump to their final destination.  As we will not be landing, the captain will not put on the 'No Smoking' sign, so smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.”

            “Roger that Shu,” Gregory Kovax, now codenamed Osiris, unbuckled himself and stood before his team.  “Okay folks you heard the Captain, you have 15 minutes to secure your gear for the jump.  We’re going to hit the ground running, I want the target found and sanctioned before chow time.”

            “Colonel,” Sgt Matt Davids, codenamed Horus, motioned for Osiris to come to the rear facing radar display, “Do we have another team coming into this area to aid us?”

            “No this is top secret; no other teams have been approved to enter this zone.”  Osiris bent over Horus’ shoulder, “Do we have an I.D. on the intruder.”

            “Yes sir, I fed the information to command center, when I picked up the transponder 15 minutes ago, the profile matches a Special Forces Black Hawk Helicopter.”  Horus brought the data up on his terminal with a simple voice command.  “It’s the new generation, and armed to the teeth.”

            “Somebody’s trying to poach in my hunting grounds.”  Osiris grimaced and turned to the team.  “Okay ladies we have confirmed hostiles, looks like we may have a firefight to sharpen our appetites.  Shift your oculars into computer imaging enhanced when we hit the ground.  I want as many distance kills as possible before we engage the enemy in close fighting.”

The fourteen men and women of the Longreach team swiftly secured all their gear, and hooked up to the drop line just as the red caution light flashed in the rear cabin.  The exit ramp opened to the swiftly blurred canopy of the forest far below.  In pairs the launched themselves from the rear of the transport, clearing in a span of seconds the space that was needed to open their chutes.  The special jump rigs jerked them upwards slightly as they caught the after wash of the SkyHawk’s jet stream.  Their drifted towards the tree line, their black parachutes fitted with special pulleys allowed them to steer just clear of the entangling branches and alight on a low ridgeline.  Each team member jacked in their data terminals.  Their eyes shifted to the silver computerscape that allowed them incredible vision distance to detect their enemy by slightest movement and direct their weapons fire to the most efficient kills possible.

“Engage the Chameleon fields.”  Osiris barked over his comm.  One by one, the Longreach team melted like phantoms into the background of the woods, invisible to the naked eye, as worked their way down the ridgeline towards their objective.

 

June 17, 2049 – 1015 Hours - Stone Mountain Georgia - Mainframe Core

Gabriel felt his consciousness slipping; fatigue began to slow his movement inside the NSA matrix.  He popped a caffeine hypo-spray, only half realizing that this was his fifth one in less than 24 hours.  Illyana would kill me if she knew, but I can’t stop, can’t lose this thread and come back.  They’ll have it shut off and enforced if I can even get this far again.

It had been too close several times already.  Black Program littered the network around the United States most secure computer.  These technological terrors could do anything.  From snapping his awareness back into his physical body, to tracing and frying his brain so he would never wake from the VR trance again.  It would have been easier if Angel was here, as few of the protocols were designed to combat a true Artificial Intelligence.  Most of those were ones Angel had probably aided in developing.

Gabriel’s awareness sharpened as the stimulant fed directly into his blood stream, but he could feel another VR Migraine coming on, working its way around the edges of his skull, driving its spikes through his eyes.  He was barely able to remain focused enough to dodge into a data conduit as the Demon subroutine blazed by him.  His heart beat quickened and breathing grew heavier as he watched it go by down the data channel.  Waiting, hoping against the sickening moment of detection, he watched it finally fade out of sight.  It had not detected the faint traces of his stream.  His masking subroutine had worked. 

Gabriel waited for moments to make sure the demons random appearance vector would not cause it to return to the same data channel.  The demon’s blazing icon, shaped like a fierce bat-winged devil, did not return.  He slipped from the conduit he was hiding in and followed the demon program.  Deeper into the core of the NSA computer his data image went, using the trail of the demon to further mask his electronic footprints.  He pulled up the grid on his VR console; his destination highlighted itself in red on the display, Restricted, Harlin Masters NSA Director.  Two more jumps and I’ll be there.  Have to find how far this goes up the chain of power and why they want to stop us so badly.

 

June 17, 2049 – 1025 Hours - Blue Ridge Mountains - Beacon’s Ridge

The burning sensation in Rathborn’s spine continued to increase, the nanites traversing his neural pathways, sending the stinging tendrils of electricity through his central nervous system.  His body spasmed as he felt them reaching his muscles, invading the fibers, developing their own communications network with the deep reaches of his body.  The muscles in his back began to spasm as they pathed into his system, reaching his internal organs, searching for all damage caused by the crash.

Rathborn could see them in his mind as the hive thinking continued to grow stronger.  Their signals mixed with his.  The thoughts of both mingled as they adapted his system to their presence, creating within him the home they would need to survive.  They would keep their host alive and functioning, increasing his survivability to ensure their own. 

Rathborn’s senses began to improve.  The pain in his left leg, broken in the crash, now subsided, a minor annoyance.  He felt them repairing the tissue and bone damage, directing the actions of his own body to increase the healing rate, slow the loss of blood from his external wounds.  He had gashed his right arm from the shoulder to elbow, the blood flowing freely as the fleshed was ripped open from being thrown free of the crash, the jagged metal tearing him to the bone.  The wound which would have been life threatening, was now healing at an amazing rate.  It closed itself, the nanites swarming, sealing the flesh.  They communicated within his brain, activating the body’s defenses, forcing his immune system to fight off the infection as they worked rapidly to repair the damage.  The impact and injuries would have killed anyone else, but these little creatures had saved him, but what were they turning him into.  Was he becoming a machine like them?

The sights and sounds around Rathborn became more vivid as the nanites busily adjusted his visual and audio, removing the years of damage caused by age.  He had worn glasses for reading, but now was able to focus better than he had in years.  The nanites working with the confines of his eyes, the burning caused by their presence now only a minor nuisance as they repaired the ocular tissue, the optic nerve, and the connections into his brain.  His hearing was becoming more acute with each passing minute as they repaired the damages from the years of gunfire and persistent noise, the damage fading as they used his own body tissues to rebuild itself.

The sounds of the forest began to pervade Rathborn’s ears, the smallest insect, the animals moving, nature filling his mind as his hearing acuity reached a level he had never before had in his life.  As he relaxed, feeling the nanites coursing through his system he felt himself drifting in a meditative state and then came the noise.  This noise was foreign, not of the forest, as he had grown accustomed to in the brief time he was there.  This noise was of man.

Darryl raised himself to a sitting position and turned his head towards the barely audible sound reaching from deep within the valley.  Were they voices?  He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled, his leg not fully healed.  The pain shot up from the wound.  Rathborn searched in his immediate vicinity and found a large branch.  He pulled the branch from the valley floor and let his weight rest on its strength, steadying himself.  He pulled the pistol from its holster on his leg and ejected the magazine.  He checked the chamber, reinserted the magazine, and jacked the slide.  He was loaded and ready.  Slipping the gun back within the holster, he started walking, stopping every few meters, resting his leg, and listening intently towards the noise, which was getting closer.  Yes, it was human, as animals did not make the same noises in these peaceful surroundings.  He didn’t know if the source was friend or foe and he wouldn’t take any chances.  After the events of the past day, he wasn’t sure whom he could trust.

He scanned the area around him, searching for somewhere to hide.  If they were coming his way, he would lay in wait.  Injured and not sufficiently armed, his only weapon would be surprise.  He saw the outcropping of rocks ahead, about 20 meters up the side the ravine and began the climb.  He would wait there, and from above would have a wider field of vision.  If all else failed, he would wait until they passed and slip down into the ravine behind them. 

As he reached the outcropping, the rocks now forming a concave funnel for noise from below, he began to make out the sounds of voices, low and unintelligible, but still they were human voices.  Pulling himself over edge of the outcropping, he slid easily over the side into the small pocket formed by the three largest boulders. The area was not large enough to fully hide him.  From a distance, they would not see him, but if they approached, his position would be revealed.  Crouching as low as he could, he searched the crevices for a way to see through, but there were none.  To see whoever was approaching would require him to lift his head, increasing his risk of exposure.  If he used the survival signal mirror to see over the rock, the light might reflect off its surface directly into the eyes of whoever was out there; his pursuers as far as he knew.  Any thoughts to the contrary could prove to be dangerous.  He would assume, at his point, that everyone was the enemy.

He continued to listen as well as he could, the rocks funneling the noise to his position, expanding the sounds further.  He still felt the nanites as they coursed through his system.  His memories continued to return at a phenomenal rate, childhood events returning to his mind as if they happened yesterday, but then the other visions came.  Things he did not recognize; a collage of images flashing in his mind, their visions showing in his eyes as he fought to recognize the flitting faces.

As he listened, the images began to combine in his mind, the pieces of the puzzle starting to form an image of something recognizable, the images not of his creation but of the parasite that had invaded his system.  He was seeing the stored memories of the nanites as they continued their search to unite into a single entity within the frail human body they inhabited.  They had not been designed to work in the human body as a single entity, only performing cursory roles, healing damage.  However, to save this host needed a single hive outlook, survivability dependent on the psychophysical inhabitation of what would be their first true human host as a sentient being.

Darryl jerked as the images continued to flood into his mind.  His brain was incapable of processing the vast quantities of data the Angel consciousness dumped at blinding rates into his synapses, the electrical impulses firing at rates no human had ever experienced.  The Nanites worked furiously to imbibe their host not only with the vast quantities of data they carried, but also the ability to handle the flow of information no human had ever been processing.  They were turning Darryl Rathborn into one of them--a fully biologic member of Angel.  The question remained; would their host survive the full infestation by the now living sentient called ANGEL?

June 17, 2049 – 1035 Hours - 1/2 kilometer northwest of Crash-site

Sgt. Ricardo Jimenez crouched on the ground, his dark eyes studying it intently for any signs of passage.  “We have traces Colonel, something scraped the moss off these boulders as it passed, and there’s blood.”  He reached down to the boulder and scraped a clump of moss up bringing it up to his nose, his brown face wrinkled in distaste.  “Smells like human.”

“Can you be certain…?”  Desdin leaned over his shoulder studying the traces that his scout pointed out.

“Nothings for certain till we reach softer ground and get footprints, but this is the same general direction Rathborn dragged himself from the wreckage.”  Jimenez held up his hand for silence.  “Listen, GM motors 10 cylinders six of them approaching from the west about ten clicks off.”

It took Desdin several minutes before he could detect the low growl of the motors.  He turned back to his other two soldiers.  “Mel, I want you up on the ridge providing sniper support.”  The compact tightly muscled woman nodded, and unstrapped the long HK rifle from her back, attached the scope and trotted up the slope. 

Desdin waited until her short-cropped golden hair disappeared into the undergrowth, and then turned “Captain Regardi.”

The captain dropped from the rock he had been crouching on, blue eyes staring attentively at Desdin, fastening his curly brown hair tightly under a black bandanna as he listened. 

“James, I want you and Jimenez around the northwest corner of the ridgeline, I will take southeast, and we’ll be in position to catch them in crossfire once Mel spots our target for us.”

“Right Colonel …” Captain Regardi nodded his grim look made more formidable by his thick beard and mustache and spat his tobacco on the ground.  “…Are we sure these are hostiles?”

“We may be facing other U.S. Forces in this James, I won’t bullshit you, and if they are hostile we must keep them from Colonel Rathborn by whatever means necessary.”

Regardi nodded “Come on Ricky, we’ve got a job to do.” 

His two men heading northwest, Desdin ran along the southeast quadrant of the ridge.  There was no need for stealth as the target’s own means of transport would mask any other noise made, and speed was of necessity if they were to get into position to catch the convoy.  He headed up the face of the ridge and crested the hill just in time to see the first of humvees coming down the road.  Sliding quickly down the trail on the opposite face he skidded to a halt in the undergrowth just below the road.

Desdin swung his MP 4 from his back and sighted the vehicles through its reticule.  “Mel, do you have any visual ID on convoy markings.”

“No sir, convoy is unmarked, but is not armed in any known military configuration.”  Mel reported.

“Regardi, Jimenez, are you in position.”  Desdin asked.

“Si, Colonel,” Jimenez voice came over the comm.  “We have targets acquired, and a forty meter kill zone.” 

The lead vehicle of the convoy screeched to a halt, the other humvees staggering themselves to either side of the road behind it.  Inside the first Humvee, Captain Nodachi turned to Iverson and Damien.  “We’re detecting four fast moving ground targets coming in over the ridgeline on infrared, please get down on the floor of the vehicle, the armor will protect you.”

Saul bodily threw Damien down on the floor of the humvee, and drew his weapon, covering his boss. 

One of the soldiers pushed past them to a miniature weapons control display in the mid section of the truck.  He activated the system and punched up the display.  “Captain, I have target acquired.”

“Fire at will, Hudson.”  The Captain barked.

High up on the ridge’s crest, Mel spotted the rectangular bulk of a launch turret rising from the top of the lead vehicle.  “Colonel they have rockets and judging by trajectory they are locking onto your position.”

Desdin threw himself behind the hillcrest, as the underbrush he had been hiding behind exploded.  He quickly beat out the tongue of flame that licked his pant leg.  “Fall the hell back and regroup.  I repeat abandon your positions.”

Desdin leaped higher on the trail just in time to escape the edges of another rocket blast.  The concussion tossed him off the path and he rolled into the woods below barely managing to twist into a controlled tumble to avoid serious injury.  He slammed into the ground and felt his right knee give way as the ligament tore loose behind his kneecap.  His head reeled with pain as he staggered toward the fall back position.  Lurching forward he fell into the base of a tree, ramming his skull into the hard gnarled root.  Blood flowed into his eyes and his vision grew dim as he tried to lurch to his feet.

Desdin felt a hand grasp his shoulder, and he twisted to try to evade it, but the grip was unbreakable and forced him to the ground an arm equally strong wrapping around his throat.  “Don’t struggle or will kill you.”  The voice was horribly familiar, but seemed to have a faint machine echo to its tone.

“Rathborn it’s me…Ruetger” Desdin gasped for air. 

The grip loosened and allowed him to fall to the ground.  Rathborn’s hands grasped him and turned him over.  “What are you doing here Desdin?  I told you to secure Gabriel before me.”

Desdin was struck speechless when he saw his commander.  It was the same face that he had always known studying him intently, but the Colonel’s eyes had changed.  They were no longer human, but silvered pupil less orbs that glowed with an otherworldly sheen.  Desdin barely choked out the words.  “Colonel what happened to you…?”    

“You are injured…hold still…I have something that can help.”  Rathborn took the knife from Desdin’s belt and slit open his thumb.  He touched his blood to the other man’s head wound. 

Desdin’s world dissolved into a firestorm of pain.

 

June 17, 2049 – 1030 Hours Blue Ridge Mountains - Beacon’s Ridge

The brush moved as the Staff Sergeant Cedric Shelton, codename: Geb, stepped into the clearing created by the destructive force of the Whisperjet helicopter slamming into the valley floor.  The remnants of the helo were strewn along the half-mile long path.

Geb viewed the satellite overlap visible in his Computer Enhanced Image (CEI) matrix, the images of the other team members now in view, and keyed his short-burst transmitter, “The area is clear,” and motioned toward the tree line.  Twelve translucent figures emerged from the forest, their forms silhouetted by the sun making its presence known over the nearest eastern peak.  The forms derezzed into the remaining Longreach members as they disengaged the Chameleon Field Generators (CFGs) which provided them with the most advanced form of camouflage known.

Osiris walked toward Geb's position, dwarfed by the tall African American man, he looked up and spoke, “Geb, what do you have on the sat image?”

“Colonel, we have massive heat images to our west, looks like a group of vehicles converging on four human heat sources.  They aren’t animals,” as he appeared to be staring into the distance, reading the thermal signatures provided by the satellite feed.

“It looks like our friend, Colonel Rathborn, has some friends,” and he turned to Sgt. Major Matt Davids codename: Anubis, and spoke, “Davids, you take half the team and circle and approach our visitors from the North.  The rest of the team will go with me and we’ll go in from the Southeast.”

All the members had been assigned code names, taken from Egyptian Gods, at their start into Longreach.  Anubis nodded his head, gave a curt, “Yes, Sir” to Osiris and turned his attention toward the team, “Ok, listen up.  Cherti (Staff Sergeant Quinton Papandreas), Horus (Staff Sergeant Kevin Briley), Set (Staff Sergeant Johnny Dufour), Anouke (Staff Sergeant Opal Swain), and Siket (Sergeant Mae Tamayo).  All of you come with me.  The rest of you goons go with the Colonel.  Engaged your CFGs and let’s hit the bricks, girls and boys.” 

Osiris watched the six team members dissolve into their surroundings, the only evidence of their presence, the movement over the grounds and rustling of brush as they moved silently back into the silence of the Tennessee morning mist.  He glanced at the remaining team members, and began to quickly cover how they would handle the approach to Rathborn’s position. “Imhotep, I want you to hang back and be within easy reach.  Ready your gear for emergency medical response.  I want all of you only to take what you need for a quick firefight.  This isn’t going to take long.  Geb, I want you to take off now and setup observation on our guests.” 

Osiris glanced and saw Geb disappear into the forest, the CFG engaging as he picked up his paced from a slow trot to a full run.  He refocused his attention back on the remaining members, “Thoth, I want to you follow Geb and set up secondary observation for the Blue Team.”  The small Japanese American man, an expert in four different martial arts, faded from existence as he engaged his CFG and turned, following the same path as Geb.  He would travel about two kilometers to the West and then turn northward, circling ahead of the blue team and set the observation point for their approach.

Osiris looked at the others, “Bast, I want you to take point on this.  Sabuk and Wepawept, I want you two to stick with Imhotep and I’ll follow up.  Let’s move out.”  The five Longreach members vanished from sight as their CFGs engaged, and then disappeared into the forest, the only evidence of the visit, footprints left in the dirt on the path they followed. 

 

Anubis and his team moved silently through the forest, covering the two kilometers in only minutes, the extra ordinary bodies moving through the trees with an adeptness found in only the most elite of Special Forces trained troops.  These men and women were not the average Special Forces team.  Specially trained to handle the most difficult of counter insurgency missions, their small numbers could handle enemy forces ten times their number.  Bio-enhancements, implanted during their development, coupled with manipulation of their genetic core made them into the supreme fighting machines.  Their sensory perception, heightened by the bio-implants allowed them to see into the major visual spectrums; normal, infrared and thermal.  The direct satellite feeds into their neural interfaces made them capable of receiving data from many sources including the top-secret surveillance satellites now overhead watching the movements of not only the Longreach team, but those of unidentified visitors.

Osiris and his team moved to the Southeast at a pace, which would have tired normal men, their speed, nearly that of a full sprint hardly winded them as they covered the three kilometer distance in under ten minutes.  Geb was already in position and began relaying the coordinate data to the two approaching teams.  Thoth had arrived at his position to the North of Rathborn’s position and was waiting the arrival of Anubis. 

Anubis heard the faint whispers between Geb and Thoth over the comm. link.  They were within visual range of the targets and each other.  Each had identified the two enemy teams in the area and Rathborn was with one of them.  The first team appeared to be three Delta Force operatives with Rathborn, and the approaching team was a small convoy, moving slowly down a long since abandoned logging road.  Thoth identified them a paramilitary unit, dressed in all black, moving in from the west in six HUMVEES, full armament in place on all vehicles.  Thoth counted twenty-three members in the convoy, his vision tuned to long distance ocular viewing.  Anubis smiled at the report, waving his team forward, increasing the pace to their destination.  The odds were in their favor, evenly matched, the Longreach team would have no problems overcoming the opposing force.

June 17, 2049 – 1100 Hours - Stone Mountain Georgia, Mainframe Core

Gabriel grimaced involuntarily as the fringe of the attack program passed through his data stream.  He could feel the residual shock course through his body, even as he evaded the bloodhound and streaked into Harlin Master’s system.  He slammed the data wall behind him, but he could still hear the eerie howl of the attack routine as it battered against the barrier.  He did not have much time before the bloodhound made it through, he would have to get what information he could and take on an extremely dangerous maneuver. 

In theory, Gabriel could bypass the protections of the NSA computers by performing what was known as a neural snapback among hackers.  It was risky because it involved turning off his consciousness inside the net, cutting his data stream and allowing the releasing force to snap him back into his physical body.  The speed of the snapback often severely disrupted the brainwaves of the hacker enough to cause a cascading failure in brain function, resulting in coma or brain death more often then those that survived unscathed.

Gabriel broke past the encryption in the NSA Directors main data directory and dove into the file vault just as his data wall began to crack under the relentless attacks of the Bloodhound.  He started picking through the directories with blinding speed; looking for the one codename that Angel had told him, project Sephiroth.  He found it buried under high-security fractal encryption, and a list of seven read only files popped up.  He began to scan the file headings and stopped cold on the second file—Project Stage two Gabriel Michael Scott.

June 17, 2049 – 1100 Hours - Blue Ridge Mountains, State Park Road

“The enemy has possession of Colonel Rathborn’s transponder if, not Colonel Rathborn himself.”  Captain Nodachi pointed to the tracking screen.

“Send scouts out Captain.  We should have discovered their purposes before we opened fire anyway.” Damien snapped, “The purpose here is to safeguard my brother, not get him killed.”

“What did you expect me to do sir, wave a flag of truce get on a bullhorn and ask them if they were hostile?” Nodachi stared disbelieving at Damien.  “We know other hostile forces are looking for your brother, we have no Intel on other friendly forces.”

“Just do as your ordered, Captain…Saul is here to worry about my safety; and as for your men, that is a hazard of the occupation and they are well paid for their risk.”  Damien stared the short Japanese man down coldly.

“We are paid as soldiers, not as cannon fodder, and as a soldier I fulfill my job and my duty.  Have no fear.”  Nodachi exited the humvee, slamming the door.

            Nodachi ordered teams three and four out of their vehicles.  “Lieutenant Bucher,” he stopped before a stocky French Canadian man whose black hair was buzzed close to his scalp, blue eyes gazing intently from over a nose that had been severely broken many times.  “I want your team to perform a little recon, find Colonel Rathborn, find out if he is still alive, and assess if he is being held hostage by the unknowns.  Do not engage them; I want this handled with overwhelming force.  If we indeed need a hostage rescue, all twenty men of this unit should be able to handle four.  Got it.”

            Bucher nodded, “Oui monsignor captain.”  He signaled to his seven soldiers and they hoisted their packs, and followed him off the road into the woods.

            Nodachi waited to until the last camouflaged figure disappeared into the woods,   and pulled out his lucky yen piece from his breast pocket.  He rubbed the smooth nickel surface to help him think as much as for good luck.  It was as good a plan as any, and if all worked out the Captain’s way; Damien would not get any of his men killed. 

            Nodachi turned to walk to through the rest of his convoy barking orders to ready his men for the inevitable.  They piled out of their vehicles to positions along the road, eyes sharpened by his orders, hands clutched on hair triggers at his command.  He purposefully left Saul and Damien to stew inside the lead humvee, because he did not feel like having them under foot, and as he told Damien coldly, all they could do now was wait.