“Atten-hut!” Falkirk yelled, the group snapping into a salute as he said the words. A coffin stood on the edge of the loading ramp to the Concorde II, the large loading doors open to the bright mid-afternoon sky. Looking across at his troops, Falkirk felt a brief sense of shame that the members of his unit, whom had just joined not long ago, had to witness the passing of a comrade. It still had to be done, however, and Falkirk wanted to make sure that Ericson got the respect that he deserved.
The troops had assembled on a moment’s notice. Before getting on the plane, Falkirk ordered his troops to bring white camouflage paint. As soon as the situation in Egypt was resolved, the group would head directly to the Antarctic, to repel the aliens there as best they could. This was going to be a very busy day. Falkirk glanced down, and then began his eulogy.
“Peter Ericson was a man who was a victim of necessity. Without his death, we would not have discovered how powerful the alien influence on our minds is. His death was not fair, but it has certainly advanced our cause, and, correspondingly, the cause of mankind. I think, however, that Peter is resting, assured that we will continue to fight our battles with him in our minds.” Falkirk said.
Falkirk moved to the back of the coffin, and, with a shove, it fell from the plane. Streaking into the deep blue ocean, just a hundred feet below, Falkirk realized just how little he had said in his eulogy. Short and to the point, however, was the best possible way to deal with Ericson’s death. Nobody wanted to reflect on it, because they all knew that something similar could happen to them within the next few hours. Turning away, the rest of the unit went back to their seats, and Falkirk and Valmont returned to the cockpit. “That went over well enough.” Falkirk said to nobody in particular, toggling the closure of the rear loading bay and taking the S-1 off of auto-pilot.
“Don’t worry. I’ve seen enough of them before to realize that the never go over well.” Valmont said, settling into the co-pilots seat.
Falkirk kept the scanning of the radar on minimum range. Even with the stealth capabilities built into this particular plane, outgoing radar sweeps could still be traced back to their point of origin. Falkirk and his battalion would be, quite literally, dead in the water. It was time to go over the battle plan with his troops. Falkirk just hoped that everything would go as planned. He knew better than to expect that, however. As Sun Tzu wrote, over two thousand years ago, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy. “Okay, here’s the drill.” Falkirk said, walking into the crew area of the airplane.
“Everybody listen up.”
“Yeah, eight against eight-hundred. Real good odds.” Falkirk heard Dunn grumble.
“Cut the chatter, Mr. Dunn, we’ve formulated a plan that will even those odds out.” Falkirk replied.
The group gathered closely around the surveillance data that the Egyptian government had provided for them. The hideout that the terrorists were using was built into a rock face, almost like a palace out of an Arabian myth. Falkirk knew that the alien ship that was held there had more influence than a thousand of the mythical Arabian knights.
“As you can see here, the terrorists do have anti-air defenses, mobile surface-to- air missile launchers, and they have radar-scanning stations. The radar sweeps proceed at different angles, up to the vertex of ninety degrees, straight up. The best possible outcome would be for us to land at the small airport here, and proceed on foot. However, since that airport is surrounded by a small town, that is out of the question. The town is, at best, simply civilians that we don’t need involved, and, at worst, sympathetic to the terrorists. Either way, it’s bad for us. Instead, we’ll be landing further north, here.” Falkirk said, pointing to a nearly undetectable valley.
“That doesn’t look much like an airfield, sir.” Heinrich stated.
“That’s just the point. Nobody would look there. The Egyptian government told me that there’s an unpaved, leveled landing strip in that valley that we can use. However, the terrorists have overlapping radar stations, so we need to destroy this one, that’s about ten miles away from the landing site.” Falkirk said, pointing at a small building. He then looked at the two new female members.
“Heinrich, Galil, you two are best suited to get in there and take out the radar station quietly, without bringing any unnecessary attention down on us. Disable the radar station, and proceed to the terrorist enclave. You can make your way in through this entrance off to the side, which should be minimally guarded. Make your way in, and find their security room and disable any alarms or cameras. By that time, the rest of the group and I should be ready to proceed with the main attack.” Falkirk said. Everyone began to rise.
“One last thing. Getting the ship is not important enough to lose your life over. If I tell you to get out, then do it. We can’t risk losing our operational strength right now. Everyone should expect to be left behind, because that could happen to you. If it does happen, get yourself out of there. It will be up to you to find your own way out.” Falkirk said, standing.
Falkirk grabbed two of the large parachuted from the rear of the plane that were designed specifically for landing armored troops. Providing incredible maneuverability, they were often used by covert operations groups for insertion into hostile situations. Handing them to the two women, Falkirk watched the bay doors of the plane slide open.
“How much time, Valmont!” Falkirk yelled over the wind. “One-twenty-nine!” Came the yelled response.
Falkirk watched as the time ticked down, from one minute and twenty-nine seconds to ten seconds in the blink of an eye. Falkirk saw the two women take their places on the ramp, and jump off into space.
Looking out the bay doors, Falkirk saw the two figures getting smaller and smaller. Suddenly, the parachutes shot open, slowing the descent of Heinrich and Galil. The bay doors then slid shut on the night sky.
“They’re in.” Falkirk said.
* * *
Falkirk could see that Heinrich and Galil had landed safely, as he could see their images in the faceplate of his armor. The disembodied head of Heinrich began to speak.
“Captain, we have landed safely. Now proceeding with the mission.” Heinrich stated.
The images winked off, and in their place was a schematic of their armor, indicating damaged surfaces. The image rotated, and Falkirk could only wait to see what would happen.
“Captain, we’ve only got four minutes before that radar post catches us. They had better be quick.” Valmont said.
Falkirk looked around nervously. One thing that the miraculous suits of armor did not do was to quell the fear of going behind enemy lines. Suddenly, the image of Heinrich flickered back on, the rapid changes in lighting indicating that her weapon was being fired. Or, that weapons were being fired at her.
“Encountering resistance. Give me five minutes.” Heinrich said.
“We don’t have five minutes. Get that station down, or we’re dead.” Falkirk responded.
“I’ll see what I can do.” Heinrich said.
The image winked off again. Falkirk watched as the green image of the armor became perforated in multiple places with blue marks. Falkirk guessed that these were bullet holes, but obviously ones that had minimal penetration. The same could be seen with the other rotating suit of armor.
“One minute! Captain, I think we should turn back!” Valmont yelled. “Just thirty more seconds, Captain!” Falkirk replied.
Falkirk watched, knowing that there was nothing that he could do. The seconds seemed like minutes, as he waited in silent apprehension. Before he knew it, he bas being slapped on the back, and applauded by members of the unit.
“What happened?” Falkirk asked, dazed. “They did it!” Simon said excitedly.
“Land this thing then, Captain Valmont! Let’s rock and roll!”
* * *
Falkirk looked over the bluff that led to the terrorist enclave. Waiting seemed to be the order of the night, as Heinrich and Galil infiltrated the security system of the enclave. Falkirk checked and rechecked his TG-10. The wonderful thing about his mechanized combat armor was that it turned one man into a mobile weapons platform, giving one man the power of a thousand.
Depleted uranium rounds, just as he had specified, had been loaded into the gun and his belted ammunition. Falkirk wanted to stand up and let the bullets tear into the ancient walls, but he knew that it would accomplish nothing. As he was thinking this, a message came through from Heinrich.
“Security station has been disabled. Advise on what to do next.” Heinrich’s static- filled image said.
“We’ll come to you. Try to get out of the security station. We don’t want you holed up in there.” Falkirk responded.
Falkirk held down the button to warm up his TG-10. The eight-barreled machine of death began spinning rapidly, preparing it for the bursts of bullets that Falkirk would need to use.
“Let’s move out, people! Martinez, Valmont, you’re with me. The rest of you, follow behind. We may have to split up, be prepared!” Falkirk yelled.
The group ran quickly to the side entrance of the enclave. The ancient carving in the hill beckoned for the group to enter, the walls lit with torches. Falkirk ducked around the corner of the door, advancing slowly down the entrance, keeping a sharp eye out for any resistance.
Falkirk stepped sideways around a corner, seeing no one. He motioned for the rest of the group to follow him. Moving as stealthily as possible in the large, bulky combat armor, the group proceeded down the several twists and turns of the inner enclave.
Falkirk turned his head occasionally, to make certain that nobody was following them. The atmosphere of the enclave bred fear and alarm, odd shadows bouncing off the walls from reflections in the torch light. Finally, Falkirk stepped into a room that he assumed to be the guardroom. There were two massacred corpses of guards lying on the floor, and a great deal of sensitive electronic equipment that had been destroyed. Falkirk walked forward, opening the very modern looking door that had been installed in the stone wall.
A pair of men stood in front of the door. They panicked as soon as they saw Falkirk, but raised their hands immediately.
“Stop, stop! We’re Egyptian government!” One of the men said, in broken English.
Falkirk stopped, and lowered his weapon. It seemed that the Egyptian government was going to offer at least some degree of help to the unit.
Something struck Falkirk’s eye about one of the men, however. One had his fist clenched, apparently holding something in it. On closer inspection, Falkirk realized that the man’s clothing seemed to bulge out from his body, a clear indication that he was wired with explosives, and holding, in his hand, the trigger to detonate them.
Falkirk realized that if the men suspected any foul play, that they would detonate the explosives without a second thought, and kill the men in his unit. Falkirk waved to the men, and wondered what to do next.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to make that call. The twin armored figures of Galil and Heinrich swept out from behind a structural support pillar in the hallway. Guns blazing, the two suicide bombers were mowed down, their explosive payload undetonated.
“Two of them got out of the security room before we had a chance to take them down. The terrorists know that we are here, we need to move quickly.” Galil said.
“Where are the pieces of the ship?” Falkirk asked.
“I did some scouting ahead. Come on, follow me!” Heinrich replied.
As she finished those words, a terrorist soldier with a large assault rifle swung out from behind a support column, loosing a fully automatic barrage of bullets directly at Falkirk. There was no use in trying to dodge, and Falkirk took the brunt of the impact directly on his chest plate.
Fortunately, the armor held up, the bullets simply bouncing off the tough battle armor in a shower of sparks. Falkirk aimed his TG-10 and fired off a quick burst. The bullets tore through flesh and Kevlar alike. The man, torn apart, fell to the ground.
“Let’s get moving, folks!” Falkirk yelled, Heinrich leading the team towards the location of the alien vessel.
The group proceeded through several more twists and turns. The route was not ancient stone, like the passage in, but thoroughly modern carpeting. Clearly, the terrorists were well funded. Heinrich finally led them to a red door, different from all of the generic grey ones that lined their route.
“This is it Captain, this is where the security cameras showed the ship as being held. Right behind this door.” Heinrich said.
The door had no apparent opening mechanism. Falkirk tried to kick the door down, but even with his hydraulically assisted strength, he was unable to budge the door. Falkirk lifted his TG-10 and opened fire with a hot burst of depleted uranium that shredded through the door. The entire group ran into the room, taking firing positions. The room appeared to be in strobe light, apparently from a bad shot that hit the electrical system. Falkirk fired at an armored guard that was aiming an assault rifle at him. He tore through the guard with a burst from his weapon, separating his upper and lower torso. Falkirk continued to pick off guards as he had the opportunity to, but he moved as quickly as possible up towards the primary generator controls. Falkirk quickly climbed the stairs upwards, towards the electronic nerve center of the terrorist’s operations. Accessing the computer terminal, Falkirk was able to locate where the remains of the alien ship were held, directly in the large room to their left.
Falkirk maneuvered through the subroutines of the program, attempting to stay down as shots whizzed through the air around him. Bypassing each encryption with the best way that he knew how, Falkirk was able to call up a schematic of the generator that was being used to power the terrorist facility. Accessing the coolant override system, Falkirk set the coolant to be purged in fifteen minutes, setting the stage for a small-scale nuclear explosion that would destroy the terrorist facility. As he finished, Falkirk felt a lucky shot embed itself in his right shoulder.
Waves of pain swept through Falkirk’s arm and chest, sending stabbing hot needles of pain into his mind. Fighting the urge to retaliate immediately, Falkirk used his radio to signal the location of the alien craft to the rest of the unit. The group charged forward through the hail of bullets, and, with Falkirk leading the way, opened the large roll-down style door to the steel-walled room where the alien vessel was being held.
“We’ve got fifteen minutes!” Falkirk yelled to his group, as they fired back upon the pursuing terrorist soldiers. The ensuing firefight was brutal. The guards put up a decent fight, but their assault rifles proved no match to the heavy armament of Falkirk’s unit. The retorting gunfire quickly died down.
“Simon, Velez, Martinez, Galil! Get as much of this stuff as you can. We’ll just have to leave what we can’t take with us!” Falkirk yelled, beginning to throw the smaller pieces of carved up structure into a large cross-section of the alien ship’s hallway that had not been dissected.
The group went to work. Falkirk would give them two minutes, but no more. At ten minutes, Falkirk was not sure that they could make it back to the plane in time.
“Let’s move, people! We’ve got to go!” Falkirk yelled.
The group lifted the hexagonal shaped section of hallway, which was nearly overflowing with segments that had been cataloged of the alien ship. Falkirk scanned the room and located the loading dock where the terrorists had unloaded the remnants of the alien ship. A military troop-transport truck was sitting in the bay, unmanned, simply waiting to be taken.
The members of the group, for all their hydraulically assisted strength, were barely able to lift the large pieces of the alien craft. Moving as quickly as possible, they hefted the pieces into the bed of the truck. Falkirk hopped in the driver’s seat, and found the keys in the ignition. Hijacking the truck couldn’t have been easier.
Shifting the bulky lever into first gear, Falkirk slowly let out the clutch and guided the truck out of the loading dock and into the vast desert, towards the hidden S-1.
As his adrenaline faded away, Falkirk found the pain in his shoulder to be nearly unbearable. Hopefully, the bullet had simply passed through the flesh entirely, without damaging bone. If the bone had been splintered, Falkirk would not be able to do anything with his right arm, including holding a weapon of any sort. On top of that, he would likely be laid up in a hospital for at least a week while the bone was being mended. Falkirk tried not to think about that possibility as he shifted the truck into second gear, sending waves of pain up his arm.
* * *
Falkirk saw the plane coming up quickly. His onboard computer indicated that there were less than two and a half minutes before the coolant system on the nuclear reactor went critical. Falkirk hoped that was enough time for the unit to be off the ground and well on their way to Antarctica. Valmont jumped off the truck as soon as it stopped, and using the access terminal just below the loading ramp, began to lower the large bay doors of the S-1. Falkirk aided the others in lifting and placing the alien equipment into the plane, and after they had completed that brief task, Valmont set the doors to close again. Without waiting for the doors to close all the way, the members of the unit quickly boarded the aircraft. Valmont had already begun to taxi out by the time that Falkirk was aboard. Falkirk boarded last, and closed the passenger access door behind him.
“Light ‘er up, Valmont!” Falkirk yelled. There was less than a minute left.
Falkirk strapped into the co-pilot chair just as Valmont hit the switches to engage the rockets. Roaring off the valley floor, Falkirk was slammed back into his seat. Even at the speed of sound, Falkirk felt that they could not get away quickly enough. There were thirty seconds left.
Leveling off at a speed of Mach 2, Valmont cut the rockets. Falkirk looked down just in time to catch the explosion.
Rippling out from the desert floor, a large explosion like none that Falkirk had ever seen before shot into the air. The purging of the coolant system had caused a violently catastrophic explosion, totally and completely annihilating the terrorist stronghold from which they had just left. The bright white light was intense, and only the light damping system in his helmet prevented Falkirk from going temporarily blind. After the light, a large shockwave then buffeted the plane, causing a sudden drop in altitude. It was of little consequence, however, and the plane continued steadily on its path.
Falkirk unstrapped himself from the co-pilot’s seat, and walked back towards the passenger section of the plane. Taking off his armor piece by piece, Falkirk set his armor beside him, revealing his tight black jumpsuit underneath. Looking at where the bullet had entered revealed that it had passed cleanly through his flesh. Falkirk was as pleased as a person could be, having just been shot.
“Martinez, you’re good at field medicine, right?” Falkirk asked. Without another word, Martinez came to his aid, using the onboard medical kit to begin to clean the wound. Falkirk was pleased that no terrorist could keep him from his goal.