Authors: Matt Roberts
“This isn’t a matter of choice, Owyn.” His voice raised sharply in a manner that Owyn had scarcely heard before. “I have my orders. You have yours. Neither of our opinions have a part to play. Am I clear?”
Owyn had stepped out of line, and he knew it. Quietly he backed down.
“Get some rest,” Ambrose said. “There’s one more mission I need to get done before I leave. Briefing’s at 0800.”
Owyn nodded, lacking conviction. “Yes sir,” he answered before making his way to the door.
“Owyn.” Ambrose stopped him. “Don’t lose focus. The mission is the priority.” Those were five words he had repeated so many times that he himself must have been sick of hearing them, but Owyn knew in this situation to take them as a warning. Ambrose expected not to be disappointed.
After waiting for the door to close behind him, Owyn briskly descended the steps, slid down the corridor and whimsically swung a leg at the wall in frustration.
Owyn’s mind wasn’t about to be put at ease, even as he lay quietly in the comfort of his quarters. After more than hour of trying in vain to force himself to sleep, he dragged himself out from beneath the sheets and pressed his cheek up against the ice cold glass of the solitary porthole window. Beyond the glass extended the infinite expanse of space, twinkling with thousands of distant stars and galaxies.
He pulled over a chair and slumped into the fabric. His head was throbbing with question after question replaying over and over without reprieve. Droplets of sweat were rolling down his back, adding to his discomfort. Perhaps he was overreacting; the change was only temporary after all. He shouldn’t be affected. The only times he and Ambrose had any interaction these days was on the field and during briefing or debriefing. What did it matter if someone else took his place? He’d just be taking orders either way. Still, whatever he told himself, he had to admit that he felt more comfortable with Ambrose on the station, even with minimal interaction. He sighed. The best thing he could do was distract his thoughts.
If he could believe any of the bullshit that came out of Sully’s mouth then he could see Earth’s sun from here; the brightest star on the right from where he was sat. He still found it impossible to believe that it had taken just three years in space for it to look no more special than any other star in the night sky. That time had gone by in a flash since he’d spent the entirety of it training in an isolated section of the ship along with the other members of ISO. One moment he was a couple of hundred miles from home, the next he was 23 light-years away. It was something that never got easier for him to get his head around.
Usually he did whatever he could to block out all thoughts of home. He didn’t want to remember it because he was scared he’d start to miss it. There was no way back. Never. He’d told himself a thousand times that there was nothing for him there anymore, and there were far too many bad memories in that place for him to ever want to see it again, but still the fear lingered. It was fourteen years since he last set foot inside that house yet in all the time since he’d never felt at home. He lifted his knees up to his chest and curled up into a skewed, makeshift ball and closed his eyes.
By the time Owyn arrived at Operations, Shaw and Sully had already locked horns. Shaw and O’Brien were stood either side of the IC, while Sully was pacing rapidly back and forth across the floor.
“For fuck’s sake, Sullivan,” Shaw yelled as his irritation boiled over.
Shaw was a fearsome figure. His monstrous size dwarfed Sully’s tiny stature and as he clenched his fists veins protruded from every part of his body, reaching maximum concentration around his tree trunk of a neck.
Sully tried not to react, but fear drove him to quicken his pace slightly. “Sullivan!” Shaw screamed, slamming his fist down on the edge of the table.
Sully stopped dead and looked him straight in the eyes. Silence fell. He flicked his gaze between Shaw’s fist and his fiery stare.
“Get out on the wrong side of bed today, Shaw?” Owyn’s voice split the tension and disrupted Shaw’s focus, much to his annoyance.
“Carter. It’s nice to see your talk with Ambrose wasn’t enough motivation for you to get your ass here on time for once,” Shaw remarked, at least glad to have someone else to turn his abuse to.
“I like to be consistent,” Owyn responded.
“Any idea what the mission is?” O’Brien asked. “Ambrose didn’t give us much with the mission file.” She had a brown paper file in her hand. That meant that this mission was especially classified. Ambrose only put pen to paper when he
really
didn’t want any information floating around. Sully assured him that the IC was secure – the whole of ISO depended on that fact – but he wasn’t to be convinced.
“Not a clue. It wouldn’t be Ambrose if he didn’t keep things close to his chest.” Owyn was casual in his reply in spite of his suddenly elevated heart rate.
“We’re launching in 30, so he’s in a rush to get it done whatever it is.”
Owyn raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been given the impression that this mission was anything bigger than Ambrose’ last, so why the file; why the hurry? Moreover, 0800 had been and gone. Ambrose was never late.
Thunderous footsteps echoed down the hallway and were quickly followed by Ambrose marching briskly into the room. He launched a tiny computer chip in Sully’s direction and after a momentary fumble and a skipped heartbeat he collected it.
“We need eyes on those co-ordinates, Sullivan. Make it quick,” the Lieutenant ordered.
Needing no extra encouragement, Sully promptly inserted the chip into the IC’s access pad, replacing the image of Altaris above the table with the model of an area of empty desert plains.
“What are we looking at?” O’Brien queried. There didn’t look to be anything to see.
Ambrose was circling the table, erratically switching left and right. “Can you clear interference?”
“On it,” Sully answered, and in a matter of seconds the complete image materialised.
Upon the plain appeared a dozen or so silver structures, all surrounded by a high wall. There was a watchtower on the east side and another directly opposite it on the west, both extending equally high above the walls.
“A military installation?” O’Brien asked curiously.
“A rebel base on the outskirts of the Tajari desert,” Ambrose clarified, eventually standing still as his anxiety eased.
Owyn joined the discussion. “Rebel? Since when have we had rebels to deal with?”
“They’ve been popping up for the last few months, but until now they’ve been easy to deal with and keep quiet about. This is the first significant base we’ve come across.”
It was a worrying development. This was the first mention of an uprising on Altaris, and Owyn couldn’t help but draw parallels to the events on Earth.
“What are we supposed to do about it? We don’t have the men to go anywhere near that place.” Shaw was quick to file an objection.
“This facility is producing high impact weapons. We need to take it down quickly. There isn’t time to debate it.” Ambrose was firm, but failed to discourage further argument from Shaw.
“Judging by the size of the base they must have what, a hundred personnel? At least. And I’m willing to bet that if they do have weapons then they aren’t going to be sat on display ready for us to whisk away. This is the DPD’s problem. Not ours.” Shaw had never been too fond of the DPD, as he’d made clear on many occasions. There didn’t seem to be much reason behind it, but it wouldn’t be unlike him to hold a grudge without justification.
“I’m guessing most of the weapons facility is underground,” O’Brien said.
“Most probably,” Ambrose confirmed.
“One entry?”
Ambrose nodded.
“Are we forgetting where this place is?” Sully interrupted. “Tajari is a no-fly-zone. Those sandstorms mean the sky above the desert is littered with dust and sand particles. Our jets aren’t getting close to that compound without having their engines torn up, so I hope you’ve got a good idea of how we’re getting there.”
“We’ll only be flying along the outskirts,” Ambrose assured. “We may sustain a little damage but not enough to endanger the mission.”
“Do you know how those engines work?” The question was rhetorical, of course. “It only takes a dozen particles to rip through the filter and the Fourth of July will be coming early this year. It’s not going to work.”
“It isn’t your call, Sullivan.” Ambrose’ firm, authoritative tone bubbled to the surface. “Whatever the risks, we have to get this mission done.”
“With respect, sir, we aren’t going to be able to do
anything
about those weapons if we go down out there.”
Owyn could see Ambrose’ temper boiling. It was unusual to see, but Owyn understood the circumstances better than the others. “Sully!” he snapped. Sully turned to face him, initially shocked that Owyn hadn’t taken his side but quickly succumbing to his glare and keeping his mouth shut.
A tense silence filled the room. All five stood like statues, waiting for someone else to make the next move.
“So,” Owyn said, lifting the stale air. “What’s the plan?”
TAJARI
Owyn suited up and loaded his belt with a new set of magazines and grenades, slotted his pistol into its holster and left the armoury. Although the weight of leadership was no longer on his shoulders he hadn’t been relieved of any pressure. This mission was big, and it was going to be far from routine – Ambrose’ behaviour had made that blatantly clear. He needed to put aside his feelings and focus. The mission was the priority.
As he headed briskly along the corridor towards the hanger Owyn spotted Sully plotting an intercept course. He contemplated breaking for cover, but in the end he knew that he would only be delaying the inevitable.
“It isn’t our call, Sully,” he reiterated as the two neared collision, preventing Sully from getting in the first word. “Whatever you’re about to tell me, I can’t do shit about it. Ambrose gives the orders, not me.”
“You’re the only one he’s ever going to listen to and you know it, O. He’s going to get us all killed if we go through with this.”
“How about you just trust him, Sully? Hasn’t he done enough to earn that by now?”
Sully’s determination was only intensifying with Owyn’s every word. “You heard him. He couldn’t argue with me. I know how those engines work and I can be damn sure they aren’t going to survive long enough to get us to that base. It’s suicide.”
Owyn came to an abrupt stop and turned to face his pilot. “We don’t have a choice, Sully. If you want to opt out, talk to Ambrose. Otherwise, you’re taking us into that desert. There’s nothing I can do.” Sully stared silently back at him for a few seconds before finally offering a hesitant nod. Owyn softened his voice. “Come on, let’s go.”
He continued on his way, but Sully stood firm. “What did he say to you last night?” he asked. “This isn’t you, O. You don’t follow blindly. Not even for Ambrose.”
Owyn stopped again and let out a long sigh. He turned back around. “No. I don’t,” he admitted. “But questioning orders has never ended too well for me.” That wasn’t the truth and Sully was too smart to fall for it, but Owyn knew that if was going through with this, Sully was too.
“Alright then,” he said, nodding with a little more enthusiasm this time. “Let’s go.”
Owyn was doing his best to keep his mind firmly focused on the mission, but he couldn’t help but have his own doubts. He knew the dangers of the Tajari just as well as Sully, and his concerns were hardly being eased. As he said himself, Sully knew those engines better than anyone. His judgement couldn’t be ignored, but Owyn had to put his faith in Ambrose. He owed him that much.
They arrived at the hanger bay where Ambrose, Shaw and O’Brien were preparing for launch. Ambrose had ordered the entire lower deck to be cleared so aside from them and their pilots, the hanger was empty. From this end, the cavernous chamber stretched endlessly into the distance. Along the right hand wall were sixteen docks, twelve of which were currently occupied by jets. Beyond them were several more bays, containing a diverse array of alternate transport. Some were built to mimic the public transport vehicles of each of Altaris’ cities, perfect for blending in when missions involved going undercover down on the surface. Others were larger, full squad carriers; slower and more difficult to conceal than individual jets but sometimes more convenient.
ISO had four squads in total – Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta – each consisting of four Operatives and one Head of Intelligence – Sully being Alpha’s. The four empty docks belonged to Bravo Squad’s Operatives. Their role as undercover mission specialists meant they were often absent from the station for long periods at a time, as they had been for the past few months. Nobody other than Ambrose and DPD command knew exactly where they went, and even when they were on station they hardly had any contact with the other squads so to be sure nothing was able to slip.
Initially, when they had all first set off from Earth Bravo Squad’s leader, First Officer Blake, was touted to be part of Alpha Squad alongside Owyn, Ambrose, and Shaw, before Ambrose decided she was better suited to a leadership role and promoted O’Brien in her place. Since they’d arrived Owyn could barely remember having spoken to her again – another unfortunate consequence of ISO life.
Sully jogged ahead and hopped into the cockpit to begin running through his pre-flight routine while Owyn joined the rest of the team.
“Engines hot. We’re launching in two,” Ambrose instructed.
“Copy,” the others replied in unison.
“Once you’re on the ground try to avoid unnecessary diversions or conflict – the mission is the priority. We need to get the job done as quickly as possible. Let’s move.”
The four of them dispersed and Owyn took his seat in the cockpit. Once he was strapped in and the door was sealed behind him the platform beneath the aircraft slid forwards, moving it into position in the launch bay airlock. Sully ignited the engines. Bulkhead doors slammed shut behind them and depressurisation was initiated.
Once the final particles of air had seeped from the chamber, the hangar doors made way to reveal the barren expanse of the Tajari desert stretched out below. It covered an entire continent so large that there was no other land in sight, just equal measures of pale brown desert and deep blue sea. Looking upon it was like gazing into the void. There was nothing to break the monotony. Not a lake, a river, a mountain; nothing. Just endless plains of barren sands and dry rock.
“I don’t suppose there’s any turning back now,” Sully said as he watched the veil of darkness begin to sweep across the desert. The discomfort in his voice was blatant to the ear. Owyn kept his silence.
Shaw’s jet was first to depart shortly followed by O’Brien. As soon as Ambrose joined them Sully fired the thrusters and they burst out of the launch bay, feeling the force crushing them into their seats as they were immediately caught by the planet’s gravity. At first they accelerated free of resistance then the jet’s wings glowed golden-red as it swooped into the atmosphere. Sully delicately lifted the nose, reducing the sharpness of their descent.
“How’re we holding up?” Owyn asked him as they dropped steadily towards the desert.
“Dust concentration is negligible. If the conditions stay like this closer to the surface then we should be fine.” He still didn’t sound convinced.
For now they maintained a high altitude, skirting along the edge of the desert. With the skies above the Tajari being entirely empty they didn’t want to spend too long within any sort of detectable range and so they were only going to take the plunge a few seconds before hitting the drop zone.
Owyn’s comms came online ready for Ambrose to issue his final briefing. First he addressed Shaw and O’Brien. “As soon as you hit the ground you’ll lose communication with us and with each other,” he explained. “If you don’t hit the target within the window then Carter and I will be dead in the water. Once we’re on the ground you’ll be clear to move on to locating and destroying the radio jammers ready for evac.”
“Copy that,” O’Brien answered.
“Fifteen seconds to drop,” Sully announced. In perfect synchronisation two of the jets veered downwards, cutting their altitude from 90,000 to 50,000 feet in a heartbeat while the remaining two – containing Owyn and Ambrose – stayed up high.
“See you on the other side,” O’Brien said, as she and Shaw took their places in their airlocks.
“Five minutes,” Ambrose reminded them. “Get it done.”
“We’ll get it done. Don’t waste your chance.” Shaw issued the final send off before the doors opened and they plummeted into the void.
Their jets rose back up then peeled off from the front of the line, blitzing past either side of Sully and Owyn, shaking the sky around them.
“Sullivan. I’ll need you to stick around and provide surveillance once the jammers are down.”
“With respect, sir, I’m not risking any more time in this airspace than I have to. If a storm crops up within 10 miles of this position it’ll bring me down.”
“You’re staying put, Corporal. That’s an order.” Sully didn’t reply. Ambrose raised his voice. “Is that clear, Sullivan?”
“Yes sir,” he said at last. He didn’t express much confidence but on this occasion Ambrose was prepared to let it slide.
After maintaining a straight course for a couple of minutes the two remaining jets spun around for another pass and dropped their altitude. As expected there had not yet been any word from the ground team and so Owyn and Ambrose would be jumping blind.
Owyn checked all of his equipment and slipped on his helmet. He stepped into the airlock. All of his concentration was focussed on running through his landing over and over in his mind. He stood in silence as each second ticked by more slowly than the last. His nerves hadn’t been this apparent since the first time he’d endured this wait. Preparing to jump from what felt like the edge of space was never without fear but usually the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept his uncertainties at bay. Finally the countdown appeared in his visor. 5…4…3…2…1.
The doors opened and Owyn leapt out into the darkness. Without delay he corrected his position to steady his descent. He and Ambrose were just a few feet apart but neither offered the other the merest of glances. Instead they kept their eyes firmly fixed on the ground. The base was too far below to see clearly and a thin sheet of cloud was amassing above the surface, restricting their vision further. It didn’t matter, however. Owyn could see everything he needed to see by simply closing his eyes and visualising his course.
He streamlined his body as much as possible, edging himself ahead of his partner. Even as his focus deepened further still his nerves continued to wriggle around inside his gut. As the dim lit buildings of the rebel base came into view his breaths quickened. His thrusters fired for the first time, catching him off guard. Forcing himself to release the tension from his body he quickly calmed his racing heartbeat and reassembled his composure. The air below remained still. Too still. Shaw and O’Brien should have reached their targets by now.
As they broke through the cloud Owyn scanned the base. Tiny shadows of soldiers were patrolling the perimeter. Snipers sat atop every rooftop covering every angle of the compound. Time was running out. Unless something happened quickly, he and Ambrose were about to plunge into the midst of a circle of piranhas. They’d barely last a second. He looked all around the walls, flicking his gaze back and forth ever more frantically looking for any sort of sign. All he could find were more ground troops – more rooftop snipers.
His finger crept towards the manual trigger switch on his thigh. He still had enough fuel in his thrusters to make it clear. One full burst and he’d veer off and have a shot at landing out in the desert, not that his sideward momentum would make that easy. Every moment he wasted thinking it over lessened his chances. His window of opportunity was tiny and his margin of error was diminishing rapidly. He had to make a call.
A blinding light erupted from the western watchtower as an explosion ripped through the air. A split second later came another at the eastern tower. Pillars of flame lifted into the air above them. Smoke bellowed out from inside. In an instant the circle was broken. The soldiers were scrambled, their formation lost. Owyn’s thrusters fired again – without the need for a manual override – flipping him upright in preparation for landing.
He swung down onto one of the rooftops and his feet touched down. A cloud of dust sprung up from beneath him as his suit’s exoskeleton absorbed the impact. He carried his momentum into a forward roll, drew, and planted a bullet in the throat of one of a pair of snipers. The explosions kept the second distracted just long enough for Owyn to wrap an arm around his throat and drag him to the ground as he struggled in vain.
Ambrose had landed a couple of roofs across and been engaged and encircled by three armed soldiers. Leaping across to the next building, Owyn raised his pistol and flicked the switch beside the trigger. Lights along the barrel glowed an ever intensifying blue as he sprinted to close the distance. His visor display locked onto the three men, relaying the information straight to his weapon. He squeezed the trigger, unleashing a quick fire burst of three peculiar, elongated bullets. Seeking their targets, they swerved through the air, blazing trails of blue rocket fire in their wake. After repelling the swing of a fist, Ambrose ducked his head and the three soldiers toppled around him.
Owyn sighed. It was too bad that was a one-time trick.
“Let’s move,” Ambrose ordered, not allowing a moment of respite.
With Ambrose taking the lead, the two made their way down to the ground and sank into the shadows. Once inside it was clear to see that the compound was a temporary installation. No foundations had been dug into the stone. The buildings and walls all sat suspended upon struts which were haphazardly shaped around the jagged surface of the desert floor. As for the structures themselves, their shells were weak and flimsy while their frames weren’t built to withstand anything more than a solid punch. That, therefore, meant that Shaw and O’Brien’s explosives had done a great deal of damage, cleanly severing the top levels of the towers and flinging their smouldering remains for miles in all directions.
Ambrose froze and held out his hand. Owyn stopped behind him and watched a group of half a dozen soldiers rush past them, oblivious to their presence. They then continued onwards through the maze, before eventually arriving at a clearing where the ground dropped into a peculiarly circular crater. The edges were sheer and straight and a small, solitary structure rose from the centre. Chaos was echoing all around, yet two men still stood on guard at the front of the structure. While everyone else flocked towards the flames they stood their ground, unmoved by everything that was happening around them.