The War of Pawns (The Human Chronicles -- Book Three) (34 page)

BOOK: The War of Pawns (The Human Chronicles -- Book Three)
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The buildings were made of wide wood panels and were off-grade by a meter or so to accommodate the seasonal monsoons common in the jungle latitudes of the planet. Most of the buildings they passed had entrances at the front and back of the long, narrow structures, yet the ones identified as housing the green shirts only had one entrance at the front.

They approached the last building in the row of four, and the furthest from where the yellow shirts were observed. Moving in twos, the SEALs crouched near the entrance, and Petty Officer Tindel reached up to test the doorknob. It was locked. To the right of the door was a security pad, but the Team was not going to bother with that.

Tindel removed a thin cord of thermite fuse material and wrapped it around the doorknob. Then he stuck a magnesium detonator in the cord and leaned away. The fuse lit, and in a second had burned cleanly and quietly around the knob. Tindel pulled the knob from the door, and felt inside the opening and on the door jamb. There a latch, and with a flick of his finger he was able to open the door out toward him.

He and Franks slipped in, finding themselves in a large empty common room. Yet off to the left was a kitchen area, and they could see the back of a young woman, dressed only in dirty white panties and a thin green tee-shirt standing with her back to them, running water in a sink.

Franks moved forward silently and came up behind her. Slinging his M4 over his shoulder, he then reached up with his powerful right arm and clasped it around her chest, as his left hand covered her mouth.

The woman attempted to scream and to fight against Franks’ powerful grip, but to no avail. He pulled her further into the kitchen and pressed her to her knees.

Then Sherri moved into her line of sight. The woman appeared to be about 25 to 30, with oily black hair and dark, gaunt skin. Her large black eyes stared out at Sherri with a look of pure terror.

Sherri put a finger to her lips. “Please be quiet,” she said, and the woman’s eyes grew wider. “”We’re not here to hurt you. We’ve come to rescue you.”

Franks twisted the woman around so she could see him better, as the other three SEALs moved into the kitchen and took up sentry positions. Her eyes were darting around, taking in all the people around her.

“Do you understand me?” Sherri asked. “We’re here to help.”

Sherri could see the woman relax some, and she stopped struggling against Franks’ grip. “Don’t scream, okay?”

The woman nodded. Franks removed his hand from her mouth.

“Who…who are you?” she said. Sherri noticed the movement of her mouth did not match the words she spoke.

“My name’s Sherri. I’m here with a group of Navy SEALs from America to rescue you. Do you understand English?”

“No. I’m Italian.”

“That’s fine, we have translation bugs,” Sherri said with a smile, tapping the back of her ear. The woman smiled back, nervously.

“What’s your name?”

“Annabelle. Annabelle Pasqual.”

“Well Annabelle, we don’t have much time. Are all the women in the green shirts being held against their will?”

“Yes. Yes we are. They took us! They’ve been using us—”

“Yes, I know. It’s all right now. We’re going to get you out of here. How many women are here, and are the yellow shirts also being held against their will?”

The woman tightened her jaw and her eyes narrowed. “No, the yellows are with
them
. And there’s talk of them going to kill us. The women laughed at us when they saw our expressions.”

“How many green shirts are there?”

“About 60 now. They took several hundred of us away a few months ago. We haven’t seen any of them since.”

“Will the yellows fight with the others against us?”

“Fight? Them? No, they know nothing. They are like robots, except when they want the attention of the men. They know how to do only one thing.”

“Okay, listen very carefully Annabelle. I need you to wake up all the other women in this building and tell them to stay in their rooms. Tell them to remain very quiet. We do not want to alert the 2G’s. Now hurry, and then you come back here to us.”

Franks released the woman, and she quickly rose to her feet and scurried off down a long corridor off the common room. She began to open doors, and soon the building was alive with an ever-rising volume of chattering. Franks and Sherri looked at each other. What part of
‘stay quiet’
did they not understand?

The other three SEALs had taken up positions near the door and were watching for any activity from outside.

Suddenly Petty Officer Krug turned to Franks. “Company,” was all he whispered.

Franks and Sherri moved to the doorway. Coming down the road in front of the buildings were five men – or boys would be a better description. They were talking among themselves and each wore the dull expressionless look of 2G’s. Only two of them wore MK-17’s strapped around their waists.

Annabelle moved up next to those huddled near the door.

“Are they coming here?” Franks asked her.

“Yes. They are coming to wake us. We are all moved to a cafeteria for breakfast. That will be in half an hour.”

“We won’t be able to hide the burned open door from them. Command, five targets approaching our location. Two armed. Location
will
be compromised.”

“Hold one,” Tobias said into their ears. “Team Bravo, ETA?”

“One minute,” came the immediate reply.

“Remove threat,” commanded Tobias evenly.

“Roger that.”

As the five men turned to climb the four short steps to the front door of the building, the lead man noticed the hole in the door where the knob had once been. Immediately, the door swung open and the SEALs placed precise double-taps into the five men.

Further down the road, someone shouted. Then came more shouts, as the SEALs could see a dozen young men emerging from a building not too far away. Each carried flash rifles and were running for the electric carts parked in front of the building.

The SEALs opened up on the lead vehicle from their position in the doorway. Suddenly, the wood around the door began to explode as plasma bolts slammed into the building. The walls were thin, yet they withstood the barrage.

Weir ran to the back of the kitchen and leveled his M4 at a section of the outer wall. Then he opened up, blasting an arching pattern and perforating the wood. Once complete, he kicked out with his right foot, and a new exit was created in the building. He and Krug slipped through and crawled underneath the building. Soon they had cover, and could clearly make out the attackers as they were letting loose with brilliant bolts of energy toward the front of the building.

The two SEALs took aim and pressed their triggers. Soon they stopped to slip in new 30-round magazines, and a moment later, all the 2G firing had stopped – but only momentarily.

Further down the road, they could see about a dozen more 2G’s moving toward them. The SEALs on the ground under the building, along with those inside, checked their ammo and prepared for another round of fighting. But just as the 2G’s were drawing near, the distinctive pop, pop, pop of other M4’s could be heard to the rear of the advancing 2G’s. The rear line of 2G’s fell where they stood.

The other 2G’s hesitated. There was confusion and pain on their faces, the most expression Sherri had ever seen on 2G’s before. The men quickly dropped their flash rifles and stood in the street, as Riyad and his Team moved up behind them. Then Sherri’s Team stepped out.

“Put your hands up!” Franks yelled.

The 2G’s didn’t seem to understand.

“Up! Put your hands above your heads.”

Slowly, comprehension came to the 2G’s, and soon the SEALs were moving within the 2G’s, binding their wrists with nylon ties and frisking them for hidden weapons. A quick count left only three of the 2G males unaccounted for, and that could have simply been an error on the part of the reconnaissance team.

As for the yellow shirts, once the men were secure, Sherri and three of the SEALs approached the buildings where they were housed. A door opened, and a few of the women stepped out. One square-jawed hulk of a woman stepped forward.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” she demanded in a gruff, gravelly voice.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch!’ Sherri said back to her. “You’re not in charge here anymore. And if you laugh at the idea of the greens being killed, will you still be laughing when it’s
you
who are going to die?” Sherri leveled her weapon at the woman.

The woman’s jaw dropped open, and gasps could be heard coming from the other women who had heard Sherri. Krug leaned over to Sherri and whispered in her ear, “Eh, we’re not supposed to kill these women.”

“I know,” Sherri said back to him, a wicked smile creeping across her face. “I just like giving people a taste of their own medicine now and then.”

 

Chapter Forty-Nine

 

Seventeen minutes after the start of the operation, the 2G base on Calamore was secure. The SEALs had suffered zero casualties, while the enemy had lost nearly 90-percent of their strength, not counting the yellow-shirt women. Now came the most important part of the operation, and the main reason they had come all this way in the first place.

As Johnson swung open the main gate to the prisoner compound, Adam rode in on one of the electric carts and stopped at the beginning of a wide parade field separating the outer wall from the rows of long, narrow barracks. He stood up and took the microphone that his men had hooked up to a simple speaker that now rested on the hood of the cart. No one in the compound had noticed their arrival, or the fact that no guards were in the towers overlooking the prison.

“Attention! Can I have everyone’s attention?” Adam announced loudly. His voice echoed cleanly in the still, early morning air. “I need everyone to leave their barracks and assemble in the parade field immediately.”

Flanked by eight ominous-looking SEALs in full gear and cradling M4A1 carbine rifles, Adam watched as dozens of groggy-eyed men began to slowly filter out of the buildings. The men were all dressed in dark blue tunics, many ripped and dirty from years of use. Most of them had longish hair and beards, along with gaunt cheeks and hollow eyes. These were the resisters, the ones who would not cave to the Klin propaganda. They appeared to be of little use to the Klin, and had been treated accordingly.

As the men began to form into ragged lines in front of Adam’s cart, many seemed not to notice the SEAL’s and their non-2G outfits, but a few did. These men appeared to be more bright-eyed, more aware of their surroundings.
New arrivals,
Adam speculated,
still angry at their incarceration
. But soon, even the mind-numbed veterans began to take notice. This was something different from the normal morning roll call. Murmurs began to spread throughout the ranks.

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