The Fate Of Nations: F.I.R.E. Team Alpha: Book One (30 page)

              Carter had just finished a two hour shift in the observation post with DeFontain and found Renner waiting to speak with him. “We’ve gotten some bad news from one of the other resistance cells,” Renner said as Carter retrieved a can of self heating coffee from his pack.

              “Let’s have it,” Carter replied pulling out another can of coffee and handing to Renner.

              “I sent a runner to check a dead-drop we use for contacting other cells. We’ve gotten word that Phillip Mancuso arrived in Brussels yesterday, and that he’s staying at the Central Command’s officer’s quarters while he inspects the bases around the city. And, of course, he brought along with his whole security detail; which is a company of First Earth Guards.”

              Carter ran his hand over his face. “Mancuso: the WCA’s Party Minister for Military Affairs?” Carter asked.

              Renner nodded. “Affirmative,” he said.

              “How solid is this intel?” Carter asked.

              “If one of the of the cell leaders put it in the dead drop, it’s solid.” Renner assured Carter.

              “Fuck,” Carter spat. “Why the hell is a Party Minister staying at a military barracks? Those fat bastards usually take up a whole luxury hotel.”

              “It may have something to do with an attempted assassination in Strasbourg a few weeks ago,” Renner said. “A French resistance cell hit Mancuso’s motorcade with RPGs and a heavy machine gun fire. They came damn close to nailing him too; from the reports I’ve heard. After that, all of the high party officials got paranoid and beefed their security. The officer’s quarters is more secure than any hotel.”

              “Well, it doesn’t really change anything,” Carter said. “We’ll just get to the officer’s quarters fifteen minutes earlier than planned. That will give us time to deal with the extra security. We’ll just treat taking out Mancuso out as a bonus.”

              “There’s more,” Renner said. He produced an aged USB drive from his pocket and placed into an equally aged, palm sized computer. The small screen came to life with images of Mancuso arriving in Brussels in a small plane. He was a plump, but tall man in his seventies. He wore what Carter was sure was a silk business suit and walked only by supporting himself of two silver adorned hardwood canes.“This was taken by WCA State run media. Someone from our resistance network recorded it off of a news broadcast yesterday,” Renner explained.

              “There was another failed assassination attempt as he arrived in Brussels. The truck driver’s wife was killed at Mancuso’s orders. I guess he was minding his own business at work one day and saw the man responsible for his wife’s death right in front of his big, heavy fuel truck.”

              “And all had to do to get payback was hit the gas,” Carter said.

              Renner nodded. “They broadcasted it to show how hopeless resistance to the WCA is, I suppose,” Renner speculated.

              The screen showed Mancuso as he walked feebly from his plane to a waiting limousine. A truck, towing a tank of aviation fuel, sped toward the minister and his entourage. Most of the guards and assistants instinctively scattered out of the path of the charging vehicle. Even the members of the First Earth Guards, in their distinctive green and brown uniforms, leaped away from the fuel truck as it struck the limousine broadside and pushed it toward Mancuso. Several people reacted too slowly and were crushed by onrushing vehicle.

              Two men, dressed in black and gold uniforms that Carter had not seen before, did not seek escape. One hefted Mancuso’s massive form onto his shoulder and sprinted him away from danger. The other ran directly at the speeding truck, leapt over the crushed limousine it was pushing, and landed the truck’s engine cowling. He drew a large sidearm, smashed it through the windshield, and fired several shots into the driver. The man leapt from the out of control truck just as it crashed into the plane Mancuso had arrived in. He landed on his feet with effortless grace.

              Having gotten Mancuso to safety, the second back-clad man tore the truck’s door, one handed, from its hinges and hurled forty or more feet with seemingly no effort. He then dragged the driver’s lifeless body for the cab and threw it casually to the tarmac. The two men walked away from the crash and calmly returned to Mancuso’s side.

              “Paranormals,” Carter said.

              Renner agreed with a nod. “It has to be,” he said. “No normal humans could have done all of that.”

              “We’ve know they’ve were going to figure out how to activate the paragene eventually,” Carter said. “This doesn’t change anything. We just have a few more people to kill.”

                [][][]

              It seemed as though the sun had deliberately delayed its descent in order to frustrate Carter. He waited for night to fall and give him its protection. Other than standing two hour watches in the observation post, and occasionally patrolling the camp’s perimeter, there was little to keep his team busy. It was always better to keep soldiers busy, Carter knew, but too much activity might bring unwanted attention. Idleness was never good for soldiers; it left the mind open to doubt: the soldier’s worst enemy.

              Sitting beside him on the garage floor Williams maintained his usual, almost irritating, calmness. He didn’t seem anxious or bored. Carter had never known anyone else that had the same degree of emotional discipline. “It will be dark soon, my friend,” Williams said.

              “I hate waiting,” Carter said. “Even after all of these years; waiting is the hardest part of any operation. There’s too much time to think.”

              Williams shifted slightly to face Carter more fully. “Too much time to question yourself, you mean,” he said.

              “Killing that girl will haunt me for the rest of my life,” Carter replied. “But that wasn’t what I was thinking about.”

              “What does have you so deep in thought, then?” Williams asked.

              “Something General Hicks and I talked about before we left,” Carter replied. “He reminded me that, unless I manage to get myself killed, I could live to more three-hundred years old. That’s a long time to be a soldier. I’ve never thought about being anything else, though.”

              “And now you are thinking about another vocation,” said.

              Carter nodded. “I’m tired, brother; tired right down to my soul. What will I be like in a hundred years; in two-hundred?”

              “I do not know, precisely,” Williams answered. “But you will be a leader. You cannot be anything else.”

              “I don’t know,” Carter said. “After the war maybe Monica and I could go to an exclusion zone and live the good life as security consultants for the ultra-corporations.”

              Williams smiled. “No,” Williams retorted. “That is not for you; or for Monica.”

              “Why not?” Carter asked.

              “Because you are a patriot and a soldier,” Williams answered. “No matter how much time passes you will always be both of those things. You will always find a way to serve your country.”

              “I will tell you this, my brother,” Williams said. “Rather you continue in military service or not, you will still be serving your country and its people. And there will be people following you in that service.”

              “You sound like the General,” Carter said.

              Williams smiled again. “He is a wise man,” he said. “You have an uncommon ability for leadership; an intuitive feel for command.”

              “I don’t know about that,” Carter said. “I just do as I’ve been trained to do.”

              “That is not true,” Williams countered. “When I have commanded units in the past, people followed me out of necessity, or out of respect for the chain of command. My performance as a leader was adequate but not exceptional. You, however, command loyalty, not simple obedience. People follow you because they wish to. You can accomplish a great deal with such a gift in three hundred years.”

              “I think you sell yourself short,” Carter said. “And even if what you said about me is true, what can I do with this knack for leadership? I’m not trained for anything but soldiering.”

              “You have said it yourself, many times,” Williams said. “After this war is over the United States will have to be rebuilt. That rebuilding will require leadership of outstanding strength and character.”

              “Shit,” Carter said. “It sounds like your turning me into a politician.”

              “I believe that you would be more of a statesman,” Williams said. “Should you choose to enter politics, that is.”

              “The thought of being either scares the hell out of me,” Carter said, shaking his head.

“What scares you, Boss?” McNamara asked as he sat down in front of his two friends.

“The thought of me becoming a politician” Carter said.

              McNamara laughed out loud. “That would be hilarious!” he said. “I can see it now,” he continued; still laughing. “There you are, in congress, debating over rather or not to spend a gazillion dollars to protect the
Red Crested What-The-Fuck
. You put up with the bullshit for about an hour before one of the bean-counting, backstabbing politicians pisses you off. Then you pull out your gun and blow his head off. After that everyone else will be motivated to vote the way you want them too. They next day, you’re debating another issue, someone pisses you off, and you kill them too. This happens every day until you’re the only one left. Then you’re a dictator and everyone’s happy.”

              Carter laughed too. “Grumble, you almost make that sound appealing.”

              “Joking aside,” Williams said. “I did not necessarily mean that you should enter the political arena. I simply meant that, with your leadership abilities, and your reputation as a warrior, you will almost certainly influence the course that the United States takes as it recovers from the war. You very nature will compel you to be such an influence.”

              “He’s right about that, Boss,” McNamara said. “You have a pesky habit of doing the right thing; even when it annoys the shit out of the brass and bureaucrats. It’s one of things I like most about you. Besides, you will be even more of a conquering war hero after we pull off this mission. They’ll probably parade you through Washington like fucking Caesar Augustus himself.”

              Carter looked at the ground. “What I’d like to do is take Monica somewhere way off of the beaten path; the high mountains of Alaska maybe, raise a houseful of kids, and never give another order or harm another human being as long as I live.”

              “Sadly, that’s not going to happen,” William’s said. “When duty calls, you will answer it. You are too honorable to do anything else.”

              “Everything, even duty, has to end sometime,” Carter replied.

              “Not for people like you, my friend,” Williams said; a hint of pity in his voice. “You have been cursed with greatness; even if you do not see it in yourself.”

              “He’s right, Boss,” McNamara agreed. “You’re one of the good guys; God help you.”

              “What about you two?” Carter asked. “What are you going to do with a three-hundred year life span?”

              Williams looked straight ahead as though he could visualize the future. “If fortune favors me, I’ll be at the side of you or someone like yourself; someone worthy of my service.”

              “I don’t think that far ahead,” McNamara said. “Ask me again if we’re all still alive tomorrow.”

                                         
Chapter 10

             
Night had finally come; and it was comfortably dark and moonless. Just being able to move toward the mission’s objective had brought the team’s tension level down. In just hours they would finally be ready to assault the

              WCA’s Central Command Complex. Finally, they would come to grips with the enemy. With combat now imminent Carter could focus on what would occur in the next few hours. The hundreds of thousands of allied lives that depended on the mission’s success became a less immediate concern. Carter’s world would soon be focus on tactics; on keeping his team alive.

              They had just entered what were once the suburbs of Brussels. Abandoned homes lined the streets. Like that of the countryside, the population of the suburban parts of the city had been forcibly moved into the city proper. In the ‘equal’ world of the WCA, single family homes had long ago been outlawed in favor of standardized apartments arranged in complexes where everyone was constantly under surveillance. The group had evaded two police patrols, but its progress had not been appreciably slowed.

              Moving into city itself, they passed near several enclosed housing compounds that were occupied by minor functionaries of the WCA’s ruling political party. Such officials were allowed more privileges and autonomy than average citizens, but were still constantly watched and locked into their gated communities through the night.