The Fate Of Nations: F.I.R.E. Team Alpha: Book One (27 page)

              “I don’t know,” Carter said. “Kids can be stubborn as hell, and unpredictable.”

              “You might have mentioned that the school still attracted children, Captain,” Williams observed.

              Renner’s posture stiffened. “Like I said; the garrison clamped down on the kids. There won’t be a problem.”

              “You should have told me, Captain,” Cater admonished. “But we’ll have to take the chance and use the school. The sun will be up soon and we can’t move in daylight without taking a chance of being spotted.”

              Carter took a long breath and turned to Williams. “When we get there, I want half of our team on watch at all times. Everyone is to run equipment checks; especially our auto-med systems.”

              “Very well,” Williams said.

              Carter clapped Sains on the shoulder. “Nice job,” he said. “Get on point again. Lead us in.”

                                    [][][]

              The school was in shambles. Its windows were haphazardly boarded over, its brick walls were spider-webbed with cracks, and part of the ceiling had collapsed. The grass around it had grown to nearly a foot in length and the playground equipment was rusty and in disrepair. The smell of moldy wood and stagnate water was evident even before the team stepped over the threshold of the main doors. Signs in several languages warned people not to enter.

              Desks and other furniture were scattered about the classrooms and offices. Rodents and insects scurried away; startled by the new arrivals. Bits of debris crunched with each step. Smashed computers and empty bookshelves could be found in every room. The absence of books and destroyed computers was no surprise, Carter thought; the WCA had burned books by the millions and erased entire library databases when they had taken power.

              The school might once have been a handsome, useful structure. Now it was a monument to tyranny. The WCA had closed all of the schools and forced children to participate in online education that was now little more political indoctrination. Carter knew that there were schools like the one he was standing in were all over WCA controlled territory. An entire generation of children that had no concept of freedom had already been created. The building seemed to radiate sorrow.

              “OK, we’ll set up here,” Carter said, standing in the threshold of a larger classroom.  “Brains, I know it’s a bitch, but I need you to stay alert at least until noon. We’re so close to that town, I want some warning if we get any visitors. I’ll let you get some rest before we move out again; I promise.” He looked to the rest of the team. “Get started on the equipment checks.”

              Renner approached Carter. “I’ve posted sentries at windows on all fours sides of the building. They all have night vision equipment; so we should have some warning if any one comes near us,” he reported.

              “Good,” Carter said. “Rotate your sentries every two hours. I want them to be alert, not tired.”

              “Right,” Renner said. “I’ll see to it.”

              “Meet me back here in a half an hour,” Carter said. “I want to go over your plan for covering the teams egress after we’ve hit out target.”

              “Will do,” Renner said.

              Carter saw that his team had begun their equipment checks and started to check his own equipment. In a practiced, methodical manner, he laid the gear out in front of him on the school’s floor. After completing the inspection of his weapons and communication equipment, he began the lengthier process of performing diagnostic on the FIRE Teams’ standard issue battle-suit.

              Retrieving a hand held computer from his pack, he used two connecting cables; using one to connect to the gauntlet attached to the jumpsuit’s left sleeve, and the other to connect the armored vest that was worn over the jumpsuit. The computer began the process of running diagnostic programs of the suits electronic systems. As this was being done, Carter tested the function of the sensors built into the ensemble’s helmet and goggles.

              A sergeant from Captain Renner’s A-team approached Carter as he worked. “Is that one of those super suits I keep hearing about?” he asked.

              “I wouldn’t call it a ‘super suit,’ Carter said. “But it does come in handy.”

              “How does it work?” the sergeant pressed.

              “Why don’t you ask Gadget,” Carter said. “He’s our resident tech-head. He’ll get off on spewing techno-babble.”

              Burgett had overheard the conversation and turned toward the sergeant. ”That’s why they call me Gadget,” he said, waving the sergeant closer. “I’m a nerd; but I’m a nerd with combat skills.” The sergeant smiled and knelt beside Burgett.

              “This is the
Individual Battlefield Operations System
; IBOS for short.” Burgett said, making a sweeping gesture toward his own equipment. “It combines body armor, automated medical systems, communications, navigational aids, and multiple-sensors, and a battlefield computer into an integrated system. It consists of a jumpsuit, a tactical vest, a helmet, a tactical hood, gloves, and boots.”

              The sergeant continued to listen with great interest. Burgett went on. “There are four micro computers; each about the size of a hockey-puck. Two are in the vest, and two are incorporated into the jumpsuit. Only two are needed to operate the system, though. Other than managing the suits tactical and medical functions they also can hold five hundred gigabytes of information such as maps, floor plans and other mission critical information.

              “There is all a translation function,” Burgett added. “A directional microphone picks up the language a person is speaking, translates into a language the operator chooses, and plays the translation in the earphones. As the operator speaks, it translates his language in to the other person’s language and plays it on the external earphone’s external speakers in fairly decent simulation of a human voice.”

              Sains hit the vest lightly with his fist. “It also has an impact dampening capability that provides limited protection from concussion waves from explosions. The jumpsuit can take a hit from a 7.62 short round at point blank range anywhere on the body. The helmet will stop NATO .30 caliber, and the vest can take a fifty caliber from a hundred yards but, trust me, if either of those things happen, they would still ruin your whole day.”

              “Fifty cals will do that,” the sergeant said, smiling.

              “The boots have integrated sensors to detect mines; you hear a specific tone in your earphones if you’re about to step on something suspicious. There are armored inserts to protect the feet if you do hit a mine.”

              “The scope is actually a multi-sensor unit,” Burgett continued, pointing the scope atop his rifle, “it has light amplification, passive and active infra-red, six-power telescopic sighting and a point and shoot mode for close quarter battle. It has also has integrated laser target designation. What the scope sees can also be projected onto the wearer’s heads-up display built into the goggles, or the flip up screen on the right gauntlet. This lets the user see and shoot around obstacles without exposing his whole body. Each scope can send images to all the other scopes and heads up displays in the team’s network. That means that, if necessary, any member of the team can see what any other member has his scope trained on.”

              “Like the old Land Warrior and Land Master systems,” the sergeant observed.

              “This system is a bit more refined than that, but it the same principle, yes,” Burgett said. “The goggles and earphones are actually one unit,” Burgett said. “The earphones can detect and amplify sounds as low as negative fifty decibels and automatically muffle any sounds above eighty decibels. They also house our tactical communications equipment. The goggles have all of the same optical systems as the scopes.”

              “The outer counting is electro-chromatic,” Sains added. “We can change the suit’s color from commando black, to urban gray, to arctic, jungle, dessert, or woodland camouflage patterns.” 

              “The really cool thing is the auto-med system,” Burgett went on. “The suit is made of carbon-fiber composites. Each fiber has microscopic channels that allow nanites to be distributed throughout the suit; from the hood to the boots and gloves.”

              “Nanites,” the sergeant said. “Microscopic robots, right?”

              “They are actually smaller than microscopic, but you have the idea,” Burgett replied. “Anyway,” he continued. “The nanites can sense when the wearer is injured and start repairing the wound at the cellular level. Most of the time, they can stop bleeding within minutes. The nanites can also attach themselves to nerves and deaden pain. The system monitors the wearer’s vital signs and displays them on the gauntlet monitor or a compatible field computer to help medics with diagnosis and treatment of injuries. If the system determines that the wearer is unconscious for more than twenty minutes or that the he is dead; it purges the data in the computers.”

              “How do you power all of that?” the sergeant asked. “It must use one hell of a battery.”

              “It’s piezoelectric,” Burgett said. “The batteries are recharged constantly by electricity created of the wearer’s movements agitating a piezoelectric polymer layered into the suit under the carbon fibers. Even breathing creates a charge.”

              “Why aren’t these things general issue?” the sergeant asked.

              “Well,” Burgett said. “You can train, equip and maintain a whole ranger battalion for a year for the price of manufacturing just one IBOS. Besides, we have only been using the system for about a year, so it’s still technically in field trials. They’re way too expensive for general issue, but special operations forces will probably be getting them soon.”

              “The rest of us had better get the cool toys,” the sergeant said, chuckling.

                                  [][][]

              As the sun rose Sains watched the town through the gap between two of the boards that covered one of the school’s windows. The town’s close proximity troubled him. His paranormal senses monitored the town’s people as they began their day. Lightly touching each mind, he could see, in his mind’s psychic eye, the adults being escorted by armed guards onto buses and driven to work at the nearby mill. The children were taken to a building that, Sains knew, was a WCA approved school where they would be exposed to a standardized curriculum designed to glorify the WCA’s leadership and produce fanatical loyalty to those leaders. He had seen many such schools as he and his team had helped to liberate United States territory that had been occupied by WCA forces.

              It was all very orderly and efficient; the guards gave orders, and the people obeyed. But, occasionally, one town dweller would have to be prodded into obedience with the end of a rifle’s muzzle or struck by an impatient guard. Sains admired the middle aged man who had made his guards strike him for not moving fast enough; resisting in the only way he could.

              Not long after the last of the buses departed, Sains detected two children as they slipped out the back of the WCA school and headed toward the schoolhouse he and his team were occupying. A boy and a girl, neither one more than ten years old, had decided to defy their would-be masters as well. They ran toward the team’s position; happy in their defiance.

              “Shit,” Sains said, under his breath. “Boss,” he said out loud. “We’ve got a situation here. Two kids decided to play hooky. There heading toward us as fast the little legs can carry them.”

              “Fuck,” Carter grumbled as he moved to Sains’ side. “Is anyone following them?”

              Sains shook his head. “No, they’re alone,” he replied.

              Carter and Sains watched as the children began to play on the dilapidated merry-go-round. They seemed oblivious of the possibility of retribution by the town’s garrison. Their innocents had endured the WCA’s every attempt made to destroy it. Despite being raised in brutal, oppressive regime, they had stolen a brief period of happiness for themselves.

              “If they stay outside we may not have a problem,” Carter said.

              “And if they don’t?” Captain Renner said as he moved in beside Carter.

              “We’ll have to detain them,” Carter replied, “We’ll hold them until they can’t compromise the mission anymore.”

              Carter motioned at McNamara, “Get everyone ready to move out. If those kids spot us we may have bug out in hurry.”

              “On it, Boss,” The Canadian said.

              “Brains, you watch the town,” Carter ordered. “Someone is going to miss those kids eventually.”

              “Right, Boss,” Sains said.

              The children played happily for nearly two hours while the team watched warily. Sains watched as they sat, side by side, on the rust-covered swing set. They seemed to be discussing what they were going to do next. Then they both stood up. The girl turned her back to the boy, covered her eyes with her hands, and began to count. The boy ran toward the run-down school house.