Chapter Three
“Operations, Delta Three.”
“Go for Operations, Delta Three.”
Master Sergeant Piotr Vennick took a moment, peering over the rocks to the suspected location of the target transmitter before he keyed his radio back on.
“Delta Team in position. Requesting green light.”
“Roger Delta Three. Wait one.”
Of course they want us to wait now that we finally rucked our butts out here to the middle of nowhere in Libya.
Well, he’d long since learned that ‘hurry up and wait’ wasn’t just a saying in the Army.
“What’s the sitch, Sarge?”
“Just hang on, Lewis,” He said gruffly. “Operations is deciding if we go in or ruck our asses back out.”
“That figures.”
The Delta Force team had been assigned to get eyes on the target and wait for confirmation. Confirmation on what exactly, Piotr wasn’t privy to. He assumed that the CIA boys were calling around to see if the station transmitting was owned by any friendlies.
Not likely, out here. Could be the Russkies, though, I guess and we might not want to stir that shit pile up.
He didn’t know what it was about this particular transmitter that had everyone’s panties in a twist, but his job wasn’t to wonder why.
Piotr tried very hard not to think about what his job was in reference to that phrase, however.
“Delta Three, Operations.”
He sighed roughly before keying open the channel, “Go for Delta Three.”
“Your team is clear to breach. Say again, you are clear to breach. Operation is a go.”
“About time,” He muttered before he keyed the radio again, “Roger Operations. Delta Three, breaching.”
He whirled his fist in the air, getting the team’s attention, then pointed to the building.
Silently the Delta team broke up, moving in pairs as they headed down to the old concrete structure via different routes.
They joined up again a few minutes later, coming at the only visible door of the compound from opposite directions.
Piotr stopped them with a gesture, then waved up Corporal Burke and pointed to the door. The Corporal nodded and slung his rifle, withdrawing a breaching charge from his kit and quickly setting it up on the door.
When the corporal was done he nodded and stepped back, causing Piotr to wave everyone back from the door as well.
When everyone was clear of the blast, Burke held up three fingers, then dropped one, and finally dropped the last digit before he flipped the safety catch on the detonator and crushed the switch.
The explosives went off with a dull crump and a puff of dust that was quickly caught up by the wind and blew over the Delta members as they charged in. The remains of the door were kicked out of the way as Piotr followed the breacher through, rifle kept down until he cleared his buddy.
Then he brought the weapon up and swept the interior.
“Down! Down! Down!” He ordered, looking for any sign of occupancy.
The interior was quiet, and largely bare, covered in dust enough to make it look like no one had been inside it for a long time.
“Sarge, Radio kit. I think?”
Piotr turned, carefully sweeping the room as he did, looking for any ways in or out. He didn’t see anything, so he lowered his rifle to the ground again as he approached the Specialist.
“What do you mean, you think?” He demanded. “I thought you were up on this stuff.”
Specialist Mick Kings gestured at the equipment in front of him, “You ever seen anything like this?”
Piotr glanced the kit over and had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Specialist Kings had a point. It looked like, well like nothing he’d ever seen, not even in the movies.
“Whoever has the camera, take snaps of everything,” He ordered. “When it’s documented, Kings you do what you can.”
“You got it, Sarge.”
“Everyone else, sweep this place. If there’s another way in or out, find it.”
They broke up, a PFC taking photos with the 35mm they’d packed just for such an eventuality while Specialist Burke did his best to figure out what the hell he was looking at.
The rest of the team started sweeping the bunker, very nearly literally, kicking up dust and filth as they looked for any sign of an alternate way into or out of the structure.
Piotr was checking the floor, brushing dust and dirt aside as he looked for anything that might indicate a trap door while others checked all the walls for anything similar.
*****
The intruders were within the perimeter.
Orders remained. Observation only for the moment.
The local bipeds, one of the two species that could claim dominion over the world and the more dangerous of the two from the point of view of the Verreon, had an annoying habit of turning up practically everywhere one went within the biosphere.
This facility would be marked for destruction after they left, ideally leaving near to no evidence of its existence aside from whatever reports might be pushed by the bipeds currently under observation.
No deaths would be the current ideal, since the bipeds generally seemed to consider the loss of even one of their own to be some news of note. The less attention left here the better for the moment.
The last thing needed was the bipeds seeking out the other facilities of this type around the world. Disrupting communications at this stage would present an irritation and ongoing series of delays if left unhandled.
Then one of them located the conduits that led to the facility’s power source.
*****
“Sarge! Check this out,” Corporal Jesus Menendez called out.
Piotr looked over, seeing the Corporal digging at a panel in the wall.
“What have you got?” He asked, heading over.
“Not sure, but there’s some light back here.”
Piotr pulled his fixed blade from the chest sheath and reached past the corporal to get the tip buried into the panel line.
He helped pry it open and blinked as he looked into the alcove within, the deep blue light setting the hairs on the back of his neck erect for some reason he didn’t understand.
“What the hell?” He mumbled, “Hey Private! Get that camera over here!”
The PFC jogged over, checking inside with wide eyes.
“What is that?”
“You tell me, or at least take some pictures so someone can tell me,” Piotr said, stepping back. “I need to make a call.”
“You got it, Sarge,” The Private said, getting the camera ready.
Piotr stepped back, grabbing his radio.
“Operations, Delta Three.”
“Go for Operations.”
“Got something, damned if I know what though,” He admitted. “There’s a radio rig the likes of which I’ve never seen. I’d say it comes right out of Hollywood, but they ain’t that imaginative.”
“Understood. Take photographs, see if you can grab part of it and take it back to the dustoff.”
“See what I can do, but there’s something else…” Piotr said, hesitating.
“What is it, Delta Three?”
“I don’t know, conduits maybe? Whatever they are, they’re glowing the… most unearthly blue I’ve ever seen in my life,” He admitted. “I don’t even know how to describe it.”
“Photos.”
“Being taken.”
“Good work, Delta Three. We’ll escalate the report, maybe one of the tame spooks will know what you’re looking at.”
Piotr snorted, they might know but he’d check for the apocalypse if they told anyone.
He was about to say as much when he heard a strange screeching that sent a shiver right down his spine.
“What the hell?” He half turned.
“Delta Three, did not copy that last.”
“You and me both, Operations. Hold one.” Piotr said as he let his radio go to thump against his chest, his carbine coming up slowly. “Everyone, get sharp.”
*****
Report from Delta Operators has a Data Match.
Cherenkov Blue.
Conclusion: Delta Operators have located an FTL communications point. Team is in imminent risk.
Preparing package, match frequency hopping encryption. Lock to the operators’ specific radio unit.
Transmit.
Prepare second package.
Standby.
*****
“It’s coming from over here,” Piotr heard a corporal say as he turned to the voice.
“Hold on, don’t…” He started to say, lifting a hand to tell the man to wait for backup to be in place as the corporal put a hand on the section of wall he was pointing to.
The explosion caught him mid word and Piotr was blinded by the flash, a rolling shockwave crushing his head and body as he staggered back and lost his balance. He hit the ground in a heap, one hand up to protect his face as he felt something wet slap him with a shocking amount of force.
Over the ringing in his ears he heard the corporal screaming, and he twisted around as he struggled to get back to his feet.
“Corporal! Corporal! Sound off! Everyone! Sound off!”
“Delta Three Bravo here, Sarge!”
“Can’t see shit, but Three Gamma here!”
He listened as the men called out, noting that the corporal he was waiting for had stopped screaming.
I really doubt that’s a good sign.
“Security position!” He said, grabbing for his radio. “Operations! Delta Three Hot! Say again, Delta Three hot!”
No response came from his radio, leading him to call again twice more before he gave up and rubbed his eyes furiously with his free gloved hand.
“Shit. I think we’ve lost comms!”
As Piotr started to get his vision back, he saw a blurry mess on the ground in front of him and blinked away the tears and dust creating them to get a clearer picture.
Piotr damn gagged as he saw the Corporal.
He’d seen some shit in the past, men in bad ways and men in worse ways, but the corporal looked like he’d been torn in half around the belly and both halves sent flying apart but still mostly intact.
“Jesus,” He mumbled, his carbine coming up as he was looking for the source of the attack. “Did anyone see what did that? Anyone?”
“Not a damn thing Sarge!”
“I still can’t see shit, Sarge!”
The others repeated the basic pattern, leaning Piotr cautiously approaching the wall the corporal had touched just before it all went down. He led with his M4, but hesitantly was reaching forward to examine the wall when his radio crackled to life.
“Shit, thank god, Operations! Delta Three Hot,” He said again.