“Pleasure to meet you Sir. Major Morgan Slade,” Snap said, as he raised the visor on his damaged helmet.
“The pleasure is all mine, Major Slade. I understand your team is here to rescue us,” Forte said with a sarcastic grin.
“Yes, well, so far, the rescue mission isn’t going as planned,” Snap replied, with an emphasis on ‘rescue.’ “We have three down and one wounded,” Snap said, nodding his head toward Davis.
“Major, what is the extraction plan?” Forte asked.
“Commander, we have seven C-17 cargo planes en route. They can’t land, but supposedly, we can fly your jump shuttles up to them.”
“Huh, that sounds like a dangerous training exercise; more like a suicide mission in hostile territory, with at least two enemy AG fighters in the area,” Forte said with concern.
Snap took a deep breath, glanced at Furier’s ice-blue eyes, and said, “It’s not quite that bad. The Cargo planes are running optical stealth and have a battery of defensive weapons.”
“Our jump shuttles have chameleon mode,” Furier said with a smile. “That’s something working for us.
“Speaking of the jump shuttles, where are they?” Snap asked.
“Couple miles away, hiding. They can be here in a minute when we are ready to finish loading them up. When will the C-17s arrive?”
Snap looked at the display on his forearm. “About 20 minutes. Let’s finish loading the jump shuttles and get out of here.”
“Major, let me introduce you to the rest of my crew. Then we will load the jump shuttles.”
The two men walked up to the Impegi crew, who were mingling with Snap’s team, recounting events from the battle. As Snap shook hands with Genu, he saw out of the corner of his eye a Russian through a gaping hole in the structure three decks up. The Russian was pointing an RPG directly at Snap’s team.
Fuck. My visors up. No way to drop the visor and acquire targeting data before that asshole pulls the trigger. Hundred fifty yards away. Chances of bringing rifle to shoulder, manually targeting and firing before he can pull trigger- zero.
“RPG,” Williams screamed, and pointed up.
A flash of light from behind Snap and the RPG exploded in the Russian’s hands, killing him instantly. Snap whirled around to see Commander Forte lowering a laser rifle from his shoulder.
“That was one hell of a shot, Commander. Did you do that freehand?” Snap asked, in amazement, noticing that the Commander’s visor was still up.
“Yes Sir.”
“You saved all of our lives, Commander,” Lignos said.
“Thank you, Commander,” Catrix said, sighing in relief.
“Wow. I had no idea you had skills like that, Commander,” Genu said with admiration.
“Good thing he does, or we would all be crispy right now,” Stella said, as she squeezed the Commander’s hand and smiled.
“West, Williams, Johnson, secure a perimeter. The rest of you, move these containers out into the open, where we can load up the jump shuttles. We’re out in ten.”
The jump shuttles materialized a few dozen feet from the wreckage. The men, aided by their exoskeleton armor, easily carried the remaining containers to the jump shuttles.
Commander Forte warned Snap, “We can’t get all the Element 115 on the jump shuttles. They are near max capacity.”
“We don’t need to get far. We just need to get up a couple thousand feet to meet the C-17s,” Snap said.
“I don’t know. If we overload the jump ships and are attacked, we have no maneuverability,” Forte said, shaking his head.
“We only get one shot at this. Once the jump shuttles are in the air, we are not coming back to reload. We leave the rest of the cargo for the Russians.”
In a matter of minutes, Snap and the other operators loaded up the shuttles, to standing room only for the soldiers and survivors.
“Okay, we are full. Everyone find a shuttle and pile in. Let’s go,” Snap commanded the crew, and waived his arm toward the shuttles.
“What about the remaining containers, Major?” Johnson asked. “Should we rig them with explosives?”
“There’s too many of them, and they are still spread throughout the ship. Set time delayed explosives on the ones we have out, forget the rest,” Snap ordered.
After seeing that all the operators and survivors had climbed aboard a jump shuttle, Snap entered the one that Furier was piloting. There were three Impegi crew squeezed in-between the containers that were stacked to the ceiling. Snap made his way to the front of the shuttle and sat beside Furier in the cockpit.
“Is this really going to work? I mean, we really are going to fly this shuttle right into the belly of a C-17 cargo plane mid-flight?” Furier asked.
“We’re going to do it. Will it work? Not my department. The eggheads Stateside say it can be done. And it’s our only option now,” Snap said flippantly. “I hope you’re a good pilot.”
“So do I,” Furier said with a grin.
The shuttle hummed to life and gently rose out of the snow. Snap could see the other shuttles rising, almost floating. One by one, they faded from view, as they activated their chameleon mode.
“Where do you suppose the Ondagra fighters are?” Furrier asked.
“I have no idea. Hopefully, they are damaged or have left the area with wounded,” Snap replied, as he snapped his safety harness into place.
A few minutes later, the C-17 cargo planes could be seen in the low-level clouds before them. They were flying low and slow, with their rear bay doors open. Snap could see the first shuttle move into position and attempt to enter the cargo bay.
“Holy shit. Those eggheads got something right,” Snap exclaimed, as the first shuttle nudged its way into the cargo plane.
The C-17 activated its optical stealth and faded from view. Two more shuttles successfully docked in their cargo planes and disappeared into the clouds. Snap could see two men standing ready to help them enter at the cargo bay door. Furrier was about to make the final push into the open bay when there was a loud explosion, and the shuttle spun out of control.
“What the fuck was that,” Snap yelled, as the shuttle raced toward the ground, the C-17 no longer in their field of vision.
“We were shot by a particle beam. Brace yourself; we are going down,” Furier said coolly, as she attempted to regain flight controls.
Snap braced himself. Seconds before impact, Furier engaged the craft’s shields.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Bob stood nine feet tall and had skin like Kevlar. He could lift a small automobile over his head and toss it like a brick. But the most remarkable thing about Bob was that he had absolute total memory recall. Every second of Bob’s lonely existence could be instantly remembered in the clearest of detail.
Bob wasn’t born in a test tube, but he was conceived in one. He remembered the dark warmth of his mother’s womb, the bright light, and the scientist’s cold hands. He could not remember his mother’s face because he never saw it. Upon his birth, he was rushed to a scientific research lab, where he grew up with other children like him.
Bob received the best education. Beginning at three years old, he was taught languages, history, geography, computers, politics, but mostly he was taught war. There was no art or music in the curriculum for his fellow child soldiers. He wasn’t given a name, just a number: 028. Bob knew he would die in combat; he was told that repeatedly during his lessons. He sometimes wondered if he had a soul. Would he burn in hell for all the people he had killed?