Savage Bay (6 page)

“Don’t worry,” said Hawkeye. “I was nervous as hell when I went through this. Everyone on Titan Six has the BioMEMS system. You’ll be fine. And in a few minutes, better than fine.”

Pyro nodded. “It’s kind of a weird thought. All these tiny machines swimming around inside me.”

“The next set of nanobots we use is designed to enhance your muscle and sensory systems,” said Nguyen. “These nanobots are designed to migrate to specific locations in your body to perform very specific functions. For example, some of them will accumulate in your muscle tissue to enhance your muscular function and performance.”

“You know how your biceps burn when you do curls, or your legs burn when you cycle or do squats?” asked Hawkeye. “That’s lactic acid building up in your muscle tissue. The nanobots will scrub the lactic acid from your muscles and provide oxygen and chemical supplements to your muscle cells. You’ll be able to run faster, jump farther, and lift twice the weight you’re able to now.” 

“Now we’re talking,” said Pyro.

“Your endurance and stamina will be off the charts,” said Nguyen. She retrieved a second syringe.

“Other types of nanobots in this series will deploy to specific areas in your nervous system and enhance your sensory perception. Compared to machines, human neurons are slow. The nanobots augment your own processes to increase speed and efficiency.”

“In other words, the nanobots can selectively enhance your vision and hearing,” said Hawkeye.

Nguyen gave Pyro the second injection. He winced when the needle went into his arm.

“Sorry about that,” said Nguyen.

“How long?” Pyro asked.

“Not long at all.”

Pyro lay back in the chair, waiting nervously while Nguyen monitored his vital signs. Hawkeye watched with keen interest, knowing exactly what Pyro was about to experience. After six minutes, Pyro began to grow restless.

“Look, nothing is happening. Are you sure this works with everyone?  I mean its been almost seven minutes. You said -- ”

Without warning, a warm euphoria rolled through Pyro’s body. Colors became vivid and his vision crystallized into remarkable clarity. He heard new sounds that were previously beyond the threshold of his hearing. His body buzzed with a slight tingle. He felt energized, powerful, and acutely alive.

“Whoa,” said Pyro. He looked over at Hawkeye in wonder.

“I know,” Hawkeye said. “No words to describe it.”

Pyro slowly shook his head. “I never imagined ... ”

“Welcome to Titan Six,” said Hawkeye.  

“Okay, enough male bonding,” said Nguyen. “I’m going to give you a few more minutes to adjust. Then we’ll talk weapons and body armor.” 

GATOR’S QUARTERS, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

Gator stood in the center of his stateroom, pumping out repetitions of curls with a pair of dumbbells. He was stripped to the waist, wearing only a pair of torn sweatpants. Around Gator’s neck was a gold crucifix on a thick chain.

The walls of the stateroom were adorned with posters of muscle cars and women in bikinis. A Motley Crue track with the volume cranked up poured from a pair of speakers. On Gator’s unmade bed lounged Gator’s Persian cat named Hoff. Gator had shaved Hoff’s coat in a lion’s cut, and the cat’s remaining fur was dyed purple.

Gator finished the set and admired himself in the mirror, flexing his biceps. He took great pride in his body-builder’s physique.

There was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” called Gator.

The door swung open and Tank walked in. He barely fit through the doorway.

“Hey bro,” said Tank.

“Wahssup?” asked Gator. “Want a protein shake?”  He pulled a canister from a shelf and began dumping big spoonfuls of chalky powder into a plastic cup.

“Nah, man. I’m good.”

Tank sat down at Gator’s small table. “Listen, we’re on deck for an operation. Hawkeye’s back and will be leading the squad. He wants you on the insertion team.”

“About time Hawkeye came back. You think he’s ready?”

“No doubt,” said Tank. “He’s good.”

“You sure?”

“He’s my brother,” said Tank. “I’m sure.”

“Good enough for me. I’m in.”

Gator gulped down the protein shake in one long pull from the plastic cup, then slammed it down on the counter in triumph.

“Boo-ya!” he announced. Gator dropped into the chair across from Tank.

“Hey, you up for a game?” Gator asked, gesturing to a faded checkerboard.

“Didn’t I beat you the last two times?”

“Nah, I let you win,” said Gator.  “C’mon. Just one game.”

“I have to go tell Shooter to gear up for the op.”

“It’ll take five minutes,” said Gator. “Ten tops.”

“Let me go talk to Shooter. The briefing for the op is in thirty minutes. I’ll stop back and we’ll play before we head to the Ops Center. Fair enough?”

“Okay bro.”

As Tank left the room, Gator stood and retrieved his dumbbells to hammer out a set of shoulder presses. Quiet Riot’s “Bang Your Head” started playing and shook the walls. Hoff rolled over and closed his eyes, purring loudly.

SHOOTER’S QUARTERS, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

Tank lowered his massive frame onto a chair built for toddlers, careful not to let much of his weight actually rest on the yellow plastic frame. Seated with him at the small table were a stuffed elephant, three Barbies, Mr. Potatohead — one eye missing — and Shooter’s four-year old daughter, Chantel.

“More tea?” asked Chantel.

“Please,” said Tank.

Tank sipped his invisible tea and chatted with the assembled luminaries. The conversation was remarkably one-sided.

“You do know they can’t actually talk, right?” asked Chantal.

“Says you.”

Chantal giggled.

The door to the stateroom opened and Shooter strolled in. She wore work-out clothes and her body was slick with sweat.

“Hay Tank. Where’s Carmen?” Shooter asked, referring to the baby-sitter.

“She needed to run a quick errand,” said Tank. “Left maybe five minutes ago. I told her I’d stay with Chantal until you got back.”

“Thanks.”

“Listen, we’re on call for an op. Insertion and extraction.”

“Is this about whatever’s been going on in Ops Center since yesterday?” asked Shooter.

“It is. There’s a briefing in a little while.”

“Let me jump in the shower. You mind hanging out for another couple minutes?”

Tank turned to Chantal and the inanimate party guests.

“That okay with you?” he asked.

Chantal nodded, grinning wide, and poured Tank another helping of air tea.

THE ARMORY, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

The dark streets of Shotgun Alley were quiet. Sodium vapor lights atop lamposts cast weak yellow light over the scene.  Hawkeye stalked his prey down cobblestoned alleyways, sliding silently by grey-green dumpsters and piles of discarded rubbish. On his hip was a holstered pistol. Over his shoulder hung a wicked-looking tactical shotgun.

Shotgun Alley was one of four simulation training grounds in the Armory aboard the
Alamiranta
. The members of Titan Six each had their own pre-op rituals to calm their nerves and mentally prepare for combat. Hawkeye preferred to stalk the virtual enemies lurking in Shotgun Alley.

To Hawkeye’s left, a doorway suddenly opened onto the alley. A holographic soldier in urban battle fatigues raised an assault rifle and fixed Hawkeye in his sights.

Hawkeye’s quick-draw, gunslinger-style, was faster than his opponent. He jerked the pistol from its holster and brought it to bear. Shooting from the hip, Hawkeye fired the futuristic pistol, sending a pulse of shimmering energy that slammed into the enemy target.

“Hey!”

A voice behind Hawkeye distracted his attention as the holographic enemy dissolved in a hiss of static. Hawkeye spun around, raising his pistol.

A grizzled holographic busboy in a stained apron watched fearfully from behind a dumpster. “Hey man -- what the hell?”

From the opposite direction, glass shattered. Hawkeye pivoted on his feet, turning 180 degrees. As he turned, Hawkeye dropped the pistol, then raised his dual-barrel tactical shotgun against his shoulder, sighting down the black barrel. He racked it once, chambering a shell as he scanned the alley.

A figure popped up from behind a pile of boxes, pointing a rifle at Hawkeye.

Hawkeye fired the shotgun, racked, then fired again. The holographic enemy shrieked, then collapsed in a heap of digitized remains.

Another voice sounded behind Hawkeye. Female. And familiar.

Hawkeye turned, dropped to one knee, and raised his shotgun.

“Isn’t this supposed to be a two-player game?” asked Shooter. She brandished a Samurai katana and a pair of pistols at her waist.

Hawkeye smiled. “Nice sword.”

“I never get to use it,” she said.

Hawkeye retrieved a touchscreen control pad from a pocket in his vest. “Close combat scenario?”

“Absolutely.”

“Overwhelming odds or impossible to win?” he asked.

“I’m feeling cheeky today. Impossible to win.”

“Coming right up.” 

Hawkeye keyed in the new simulation. Almost instantly, a group of five holographic enemies rushed around the corner into the alley.

Shooter jumped to one side of the alleyway, raised her katana, and swung it through the abdomen of the lead soldier. He cried out in virtual pain and the blade passed through his midsection.

Hawkeye pulled a pair of knives, one from each boot, and threw them toward the oncoming enemy soldiers. The first knife spun end-over-end before disappearing into one soldier’s flickering face. With a look of utter surprise, the hologram dissolved into oblivion.

Shooter sprang forward before Hawkeye’s second knife found its target. She arced her blade over her head, bringing it across in a graceful sweeping strike, cleanly decapitating the nearest holographic combatant.

Hawkeye’s second knife shattered a windowpane in the alleyway, momentarily drawing the attention of the nearest enemy solider. Hawkeye pounced, rushing forward and firing his shotgun. The hologram screamed, shimmered, then vanished.

Shooter dropped into a gunfighter’s stance, facing down the the last hologram standing. Her hands twitched as the two opponents stared into each other’s eyes. Then the hologram moved, trying to raise his weapon before Shooter could react. Shooter drew her pistols, one in each hand, and fired four quick rounds. The soldier failed to get off a single shot before Shooter’s virtual bullets passed through his virtual head.

“Nice,” said Hawkeye.

At the entrance to the alley, ten heavily armed soldiers appeared.

“Round two!” yelled Shooter, grinning like a kid on a roller coaster.

PRESENT TIME

SAVAGE BAY, ES VEDRA ISLAND

Five hours later, Titan Six executed the HALO jump onto the rocky beach at Savage Bay. Hawkeye had lapsed again into unconsciousness and lay on his back at the water’s edge. Pyro and Tank were crouched on the rocks around him. A heavy rain had begun to fall, and gray fog hung in the air.

“Repeat, six hostiles approaching the beach on your west,” said Shooter over the Titan Six COM system.

“Get that antennae and communications array deployed ASAP,” said Tank.

“Already on it,” Shooter replied.

Hidden in the brush, Shooter unfolded the last antennae spar on a small communications array. She powered up the unit and typed a series of commands into a small keypad.

“Now jamming all frequencies,” said Shooter. “And satellite communications are now live.”

OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA
 

Caine watched the dark, wall-mounted screens in the Ops Center. The displays designated for each Titan Six team member were empty.

Come on, come on.

Suddenly the entire wall came to life and the displays were filled with images and data. Camera feeds from the unit’s helmet cams showed real-time video.  Data feeds from the sensors in their tactical suits tracked heart rates, vital signs, ambient temperature, and myriad other data points.

The holographic display in the center of the room was suddenly populated with avatars representing each of the Titan Six operatives.

“Wow,” said Cruz. “Just like a video-game.”

“No,” said Caine in a quiet yet menacing tone. “Not like a video game. Those are real people --
my
people -- down there.”

Speakers in the ceiling filled the room with Titan Six’s audio feed. Tank’s voice was as clear as if he were standing in the Ops Center with them.

“ -- info on the hostiles?”

“Six-man team,” said Shooter. “Dark gray battle dress uniforms. No night-vision goggles.”

A green indicator light on Tank’s augmented reality display in his tactical helmet signaled that Titan Six was now connected to the Ops Center aboard the
Alamiranta.

“Acknowledge Ops Center,” said Tank. “Alpha One.”

The Alpha One code indicated that Titan Six was engaged in a hostile situation and needed immediate assistance.

“Acknowledged,” said Touchdown.

“Hawkeye is in trouble,” said Tank. “Blurred vision, impaired speech, followed by loss of consciousness. We suspect hypoxia.”

“Give us a second,” said Touchdown.

Caine and Touchdown reviewed the data on Hawkeye’s personal display. The BioMEMS system and sensors in his tactical suit transmitted a wealth of information about his physical condition.

“He’s got nitrogen in his bloodstream,” said Touchdown. “We’re working on it now.” 

He typed some commands on his terminal and instructed Hawkeye’s BioMEMS system to begin eliminating the nitrogen molecules in his bloodstream and supplementing his cells with higher levels of oxygen.

“We’re running out of time down here,” said Tank.

The holographic display showed the Titan Six team split into two areas:  Shooter in the tree line at one end of the beach, and the rest of the team clustered in a small knot at the shoreline.

Six hostiles targets, depicted by glowing red avatars, were moving down a path toward the beach at Savage Bay.

TITAN SIX, SAVAGE BAY

Hawkeye’s BioMEMS system finished it’s clean-up and repair of his bloodstream. After a few seconds, Hawkeye opened his eyes and took several deep breaths. He took a quick mental survey of his body. Nothing seemed to be broken or badly injured.

“I’m going to be sore tomorrow,” he said.

“Welcome to Savage Bay,” said Tank. “Now get your ass up. We’ve got company.”

Hawkeye pulled himself into a low crouch, a headache throbbing behind his temples as Tank briefed him on their current situation.

“Let’s try to do this quietly, people,” said Hawkeye over the COM system. “Shooter, you’re on deck. Let them get as far onto the beach as you can. Everyone else, back in the water. Ops Center, stand by.”

“Acknowledged, Titan Six,” said Touchdown. “Hawkeye has the ball.”

“Shooter, can you identify weapons?” asked Hawkeye.

“Negative,” said Shooter. “Not from this distance.”

“Ops -- a little help?” asked Hawkeye.

OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

“Hold on,” said Touchdown. He typed a string of commands on his keyboard and the satellite view began to zoom in on the beach at Savage Bay.

“The hostiles are not advancing in formation,” said Touchdown.

If the approaching men had been aware that Titan Six was on the beach, they would have implemented a tactical approach, moving from behind cover and leapfrogging toward the beach to engage the enemy. Instead, they were walking in pairs down a path toward Savage Bay.

The image zoomed in tighter. Touchdown couldn’t see any faces; their heads were covered by helmets. But the image was magnified enough to identify the weapons they carried.

“HK416 assault rifles,” said Touchdown.

Everyone was silent.

“What?” asked Cruz. “What is it?”

Touchdown cleared his throat. “HK416’s are used primarily by special forces units. About sixteen different countries use HK416’s. Mostly European. Also Japan. And they’re popular on the arms market. That doesn’t tell us who they are, but it does tell us they’re well-armed.”

“That answers one question,” said Caine. “This was no accident. It was an attack.”

TITAN SIX, SAVAGE BAY

Shooter squinted at the approaching hostiles through the night scope on her AWS sniper rifle. As they approached the beach, the group slowed and carefully surveyed the area for anything unusual.

Submerged in the waves, Hawkeye and the others remained hidden from view.

“Here they come,” said Shooter.

Twenty seconds later, three pairs of well-armed commandos in full battle gear walked onto the west end of the beach.

“They’re in the open,” said Gator.

“Hold your fire,” said Hawkeye.

“Waiting for your signal,” replied Shooter.

“Let them advance another ten meters,” said Hawkeye.  

OPS CENTER, ABOARD THE ALAMIRANTA

“Why aren’t they shooting?” asked Dr. Ambergris. “They’re right on top of them!”

On the holographic display, the six hostiles moved across the rocky beach about five meters from the waterline. Soon they would be within a stone’s throw of Hawkeye and the others hiding in the surf.

“Ops, is anyone else lurking around out there?” asked Hawkeye in a whisper.

Touchdown’s fingers were a blur on his keyboard, and the satellite image receded to show the area around Savage Bay. He toggled the view to an infrared display. Other than the Titan Six team and the six hostiles on the beach, no other human-sized infrared signatures appeared on the screen.

“Negative,” said Touchdown. “No other heat signatures.”

“Shooter?”

“Ready.”