He listened as the debate surged backwards and forwards. None of the senior officials seemed inclined to rule out a raid, even though a couple of them suggested talking openly to Wilhelm Tech first. After all, maybe a deal could be made. The technology could be controlled or put to work serving the government, if enough money was made available. But instead they seemed inclined to stampede towards a fateful choice.
They need a win too, he realised, suddenly. NSA had been entwined in scandals for the last five years, ever since Edward Snowden had fled the USA for Russia, carrying with him a whole series of uncomfortable revelations about the NSA’s domestic spying program. If NSA couldn’t keep itself relevant, Congress and the Senate might load new restrictions on its activities… or they might simply close the agency down altogether, throwing out the baby as well as the bathwater. No, whatever was going on with Wilhelm Tech and the Stuart Ranch — and the missing veterans — they couldn’t afford to talk. They had to be seen to be taking action.
“The Department of Homeland Security will be supplying the SWAT team,” the agent said, afterwards. “You’ll be riding along with them, as will I. We’ll drop a mass of troopers on top of the farm and take everyone into custody, then sort them out later. The warrants are broad enough to allow us to hold them for weeks, if necessary.”
Jürgen stared at him. Years of bureaucratic infighting had finally given the DHS teeth, without having to rely on the FBI, but the SWAT team had never actually been deployed for real. “Is this even legal?”
“We have a search warrant for the ranch, based on the information you supplied,” the agent assured him. “We even took a look at it through satellites and discovered no trace of any veterans. Indeed, there was hardly anyone in sight, apart from a handful of ranch hands. No kids, no women, no nothing. Between you and me, this is starting to look very sinister. It could even be another Branch Davidian compound.”
“Maybe,” Jürgen said, doubtfully. “What religion are these people?”
“Nothing registered, as far as we have been able to determine,” the agent said. He reached out and slapped Jürgen on the shoulder. “Whatever is going on, someone is trying to keep it a secret and that generally means trouble. And I really don’t like the presence of that advanced technology.”
He strode off towards the small jet that would be carrying them to Montana. After a long moment, Jürgen followed, gritting his teeth. What the hell had he started? Armed stormtroopers were about to crash into a ranch on suspicion of… what, exactly? They could have poked around the edges of the compound, sent in a couple of agents, or even walked up to the door and asked, keeping the SWAT team in reserve. Instead, they were about to attack with loaded weapons. It was far too possible that innocent civilians were about to be caught in the crossfire, further undermining the reputation of both the DHS and NSA.
The NSA will blame it on us, he thought, coldly. If this goes to shit, it will be our fault and our fault alone.
And he couldn’t escape the feeling that they were about to make a very big mistake.
Chapter Ten
Montana, USA
“All right,” Steve said, as he strode into the starship’s makeshift CIC. “What do we have?”
“Nine helicopters,” Mongo said. “Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters, to be precise.”
Steve swore. Black Hawks had been designed for the military, but they were also used by both the FBI and the DHS. “They’ve found us.”
“They’ve found something, all right,” Kevin agreed. “I checked the records. They’re DHS helicopters.”
“Right,” Steve said. Clearly, operational secrecy had come to an end. Somehow — and they’d figure it out later — the DHS had cottoned on to something. There was no time to worry about it now. Instead, they had to get everyone out of the ranch and then prepare a reception. At least they had a rough contingency plan for discovery. “Send the emergency signal and recall everyone on the ranch, then prepare the combat team for deployment.”
He gritted his teeth. Abandoning the ranch would be the simplest solution, but it was part of his family’s history. He couldn’t let the DHS goons — or anyone — just take it from him, no matter the cost. And besides, he had heard more than enough horror stories about how the DHS treated veterans and their families. Giving them a taste of their own medicine would feel sweet.
Kevin looked up. “You do realise that whatever we do will almost certainly be noticed?”
Stuart nodded. He’d hoped for months, perhaps a year, before they were discovered, but it was clear that there had been a slip-up somewhere. One month… at least they were on their way to establishing Heinlein Colony and preparing plans for Mars and the asteroid belt. But it would ensure a rougher meeting with the federal government than he would have preferred.
Perhaps we should have gone ahead with the plan to introduce a fusion reactor, he thought, sourly. But there was no point in crying over spilt milk. Instead, it was time to mop it up.
“I’ll be taking the lead down there,” he said. The combat team needed to see him in command, just in case they had doubts about firing on fellow Americans. Sure, they were DHS stormtroopers, but that didn’t make them the enemy. “Maintain teleport locks on all of us. If things go badly wrong, yank us out of there.”
“Understood,” Mongo said. “And good luck.”
Steve nodded. They were going to need it. Not to dispose of the incoming helicopters — it would have been childishly simple to destroy them before their pilots knew they were under attack — but to push them back without actually killing anyone. Dead pilots and stormtroopers would make it harder for the government to come to terms with Steve and his buddies. They’d have to react harshly against such an overt challenge to their authority.
Shaking his head, he made his way to the teleport chamber. One way or another, the world was about to become very different.
Jürgen cursed under his breath as the helicopter rocketed southwards. He’d never been in a helicopter before and the experience was killing him, by inches. It didn’t help that the remainder of the team, men wearing black suits and carrying assault rifles, seemed to find his near-panic hilarious. Every few seconds, the plane rocked violently, stabilised and then rocked again. He was starting to wonder if the pilot was deliberately crashing them through the worst of the turbulence.
“Just hold on in there,” the NSA agent called. Despite sharing a flight, he still hadn’t shared his name. “We’re almost there.”
Jürgen nodded, keeping his eyes firmly closed. It made it easier, somehow, if he didn’t see the ground below the helicopter. Almost there? They’d been saying the same thing ever since they’d landed at the airfield they’d turned into a staging base and then transferred to the helicopters. He reached up and covered his eyes, adding to the darkness. Maybe that would make it easier still.
The helicopter rocked again, violently. “Whoops,” the pilot called, in a thick southern drawl. “Hit a nasty spot there!”
Jürgen silently cursed him to hell.
“All present and correct,” Edward Romford said.