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Act of Conspiracy, Chapter V: False Haven
Posted By: russ687<russ687@hotmail.com>
Date: 18 February 2005, 12:56 AM
Read/Post Comments
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Chapter V
False Haven
December 28, 2524
City of Canabreria, Pacificatorius Coastal City
Pacificatorius, Atropos System
Beachfront Commercial Area, 3 Kilometers from City Center
Ryals skidded to a halt and turned down the service hallway. Branson followed up soon afterwards and slid through the closing door, leaving the public area of the mall behind—and the screaming citizens—and heading into the dim, gray hallway that was dully illuminated by white lights.
Mitchell was slightly surprised at Ryals' ambitious pursuit of this assailant. He was indeed armed, and obviously dangerous, so such a chase would seem to evolve into a firefight. The simple fact to refute this, however, was that this man was not stopping to defend himself. He was simply running, trying to get away from the two men who chased him. Did this man think he would lose against them? That couldn't possibly be, since someone with enough discipline to knock-off a traitor in the GDSO would have to be extremely potent. Something else was motivating this man to run.
Their target turned abruptly down another hallway, and Ryals bore down after him, the .40 pistol expertly up and ready to fire at the slightest inclination of danger. Branson turned down the hallway and continued to run after them, surprised that his full effort into the sprint was not helping him catch up. He watched as the man came up to a door, and without hesitation, burst through it. The large red warning sign on the door didn't lie, and the fire alarms started going off immediately.
The man had exited the mall, and was now outside. Branson got to the doorway and followed his partner, squinting slightly at the change from dim illumination to bright daylight. They were in a service alleyway, lined orderly with dumpsters and pallets. Ahead of him was the main road, and behind the alleyway continued on. Mitchell frowned as he saw the pedestrians and cars occupying the busy street ahead; a split second earlier he was glad they had left the mall, but now they were entering yet another occupied area with plenty of civilians roaming about.
The screeching of tires met his ears, and the sounds of screaming resounded a second later. Vehicle horns started going off, and the people ahead of them began scattering. Astonishingly, they weren't screaming at the gunman and two agents running at them from the secluded alleyway—they hadn't even seen them—but rather at something on the road, out of sight. Branson tensed up as a dark blue vehicle skidded to a halt at the mouth of the alleyway, and when the side door opened, there was no doubt in his mind.
"Get down!"
Branson's pistol shot up, and his finger quickly fluttered over the trigger as Ryals skidded to a halt upon seeing the masked men inside the vehicle aim automatic weapons their direction. The three-point sight settled on the open door, and Branson squeezed the trigger, the pistol kicking back slightly as the round exited the barrel with a small explosive flash. Muzzle flashes from the weapons in the vehicle caught his attention as a second round exited his pistol.
Ryals took aim and fired along with him, sending rounds into the vehicle. Mitchell was partly surprised that the bullets fired at him whizzed harmlessly by, and continued to fire the pistol, completely ignoring the instinct to dive behind the nearby dumpster. Pure adrenaline consumed him as the pistol kicked back repeatedly, piercing the vehicle thirty-meters ahead. He shifted targets away from the vehicle and to the man just about to board it; the man they had been chasing all along. Not a second went by as his training aligned the pistol on the man's head, adjusting slightly for the distance. A single round exited his weapon.
The sharp pain bore into his lower chest, and Branson blinked as his brain interpreted the action and the feeling of pain washed over him. A second pain hit him in his chest, and he keeled forward, not comprehended what had happened as he fell face-first towards the dirty pavement of the service alleyway. Sound went distorted and he blinked rapidly, wincing at the pain shooting through his chest. Gunfire continued for an unknown amount of time as he rolled onto his back, gripping his pistol tightly and staring up into the distant blue sky above. The shrieking of tires broke his distorted thoughts as the gunfire ceased, and he willed himself to raise his head.
"Mitch!"
Branson looked over his chest and found two bullet punctures on his shirt. He took a painful breath in and let his head drop back to the pavement. Every slight movement brought a renewed amount of distress upon him, and his strong heartbeat sent reverberations of pain through his torso.
"Lima Echo, this is Delta India Sierra, we need immediate support at the waterfront mall." Ryals kneeled down over him, taking a quick look at his partner's condition. "Shots fired, and I have a man down."
The reply was thankfully quick. "Units en route, remain on line."
Ryals looked him over again more thoroughly, trying to find any other puncture wounds on Branson's body. "You're damn lucky."
Mitchell sighed painfully. "You call this lucky?"
His partner let out a short, nervous laugh. "Your vest took both rounds, hang in there."
Branson leaned forward and stared down the alleyway. "Did we get any of them?"
"Aside from pumping two dozen rounds into that vehicle?" There was a short pause as both men remained silent. "You got the assassin."
At the end of the alleyway, nearly on the sidewalk of the busy road, a single body with a head wound lay motionless. The screaming had subsided, and the traffic sounds were now nonexistent. Several civilians stared at the bloody mess from a fair distance away, looking very distraught. Their penetrating gaze of the body in the alleyway was only broken as the sounds of sirens filled the environment. Had they just killed another potential lead?
Standyle, Department of International Security, City Center
The Director of International Security remained silent as his staff entered the prestigious office. He was by no means in a convivial mood, but this wasn't the worst situation he had been through. With the global terror threat on the rise, his job was getting far more difficult then he could have ever anticipated, but he was confident in his staff, and their subordinates who were working to subdue this menace.
He gestured for Deputy Director to sit down, which cued his chief intelligence analyst to begin with his briefing. The entire executive staff of the DIS was present, and waited in silent patience as the analyst reorganized his papers.
"Earlier this morning, our office was contacted be a defector of the GDSO who was willing to set up a meeting to exchange vital information on the organization, pending he got full immunity from the situation."
The Director nodded, recalling authorizing such a convenience personally.
"We just got word from our agents in Canabreria, who were tasked with meeting the informant and taking him into protective custody, that the rendezvous was compromised. A single hit man, no doubt assigned directly by the GDSO, was able to murder our informant, along with two of the agents stationed at the Canabreria office who were assigned for support. Our agents were able to track him down, and subsequently exchanged fire with the assailant, killing him.
"Before the meeting was implicated, some vital information was received from the defector. According to our agents, the GDSO is staging a full scale attack on the Social Management district headquarters for tonight around midnight. The district is New Sodham, and for some reason nobody can figure out, they're really going to hit the place hard.
"Their weapons of choice this time around are Nerve Agents."
The Director leaned back, the information hitting him like a locomotive. Nerve Agents? Aside from being highly illegal, the type of weapon was indiscriminate in its killing and would wipe out anyone and everyone within its deadly reach. It was extremely hard to clean up, and treatment for exposed citizens would be ineffective unless they were hospitalized within fifteen minutes of being exposed, and even that figure depended on the amount of the Agent received. Not only would they need to mount extensive rescue operations just to try and save a few, the entire relief force would be restricted inside self-contained breathing apparatuses. How fast, or even how effective, could they contain such a epidemic?
"Details." The Director ordered, his voice devoid of emotion.
"Agent of use is most likely out-of-System, since our own limited supplies of the gas is on highly protected lockdown. We're probably looking at 'G' Agents, which range from tabun or sarin to Cyclohexyl methylphosphonofluridate."
The entire staff winced as the analyst pronounced the last long word.
"This stuff has been around for centuries, but is still crudely effective. While we have the medical technologies to combat such Agents once they are in the nervous system of the infected, the time constraints on these options put the death toll, based on the demographics of the current target, at more then six thousand.
"The Agent is also easily transported aerially by winds, and we could see a distinct infection region stretching out for miles. People who are infected become contagious themselves, and can transport and transmit the viral if they come in contact with a healthy person. Based on these additions, the death toll could rise easily to ten-thousand." The analyst paused, his face grim. "The long term affects of an outbreak would also render the area inhabitable for three- to six-months."
The Director felt like cursing. This whole time the GDSO, along with its little partner, the PAO, had focused carefully on government installations that provided support for keeping the entire State operable. They had specifically refrained from collateral damage among civilians, as that was their proclaimation of a goal in the people's best interest. They had masterminded the perfect picture, and even began pitting percentiles of the populace against them, going in favor of this terror group.
Things had changed, dramatically. They weren't doing this in defiance of the government, they were doing this to inflict damage on the global community. The deaths from this act would greatly alienate them from any popular opinion, and the ensuing animosity would be too great for even the greatest public relations experts to heal. What was their goal behind this? What were they trying to accomplish by unleashing a deadly nerve Agent in the center of an innocent city?
The effects of nerve Agents were horrifying. They enter the body through inhalation, through the skin, or through digestion; there was almost no place safe. The symptoms begin to manifest quickly, starting with a running nose, contraction of the pupils—where the visual accommodation deteriorates—followed by headache, slurred speech, nausea, hallucinations, and pronounced chest pains. Coughing and breathing problems begin to occur, then convulsions and violent muscle spasm. Suffocation is a real, immediate threat to anyone with a high exposure to the Agent, which is the result of a shutdown of the nervous and respiratory systems. Death follows inevitably.
"What are our options?" The Director asked, staring blankly at the oak table before him.
The analyst spoke up. "We can deploy the National Guard, and they can secure the city and prevent—"
"Not even the slightest good idea," The Deputy Director interrupted. "Even if the National Guard were lucky enough to stop this attack from happening, these men, along with the Nerve gas, will still be on the loose, planning to strike again." He looked sharply over at his boss. "We got lucky this time around with the informant, we will not have another chance to peg these guys."
The Director nodded. They had been lucky this far. He reached for the phone on the desk, knowing exactly what option remained. It was their best hope, and was ironically very close to New Sodham. If anyone could save this situation, it was this last resort.
"Deploy Aegis."
New Sodham, one block from Social Management District Headquarters, City Center
The day had progressed uneventfully, and the darkness of night had fallen over the city without a hint of fear or apprehensiveness. The population continued about their own, daily routines, and the streets were filled with moving vehicles through the downtown area of the city. Pedestrians stopped periodically at shops for some classic 'window-shopping' as the hour progressed into the late evening. Nobody in this city had even the slightest idea of what was about to unfold.
Jakov looked through the window down upon the street below, preoccupied to the point that his constant breathing fogged up the old window. He was a willing fighter, an instrument of his cause to break the government that had inflicted a wealth of pain and regret upon him. He would stop at nothing to see the infrastructure of this State collapse into nothing and let the people truly run free. He was motivated and dedicated to this operation, but doubts in his mind plagued his determination to break the State's will.
Innocent civilians! That's who would receive the blunt force of the fury they were about to unleash. They were not guilty of condemning him, or his comrades, to a fateful life on this planet. They were guilty of nothing, and only lived out their own peaceful separate lives that implicated no one. Why were they being tasked with sending such a substance into the heart of a populace?
He had never predicted, nor wished for, a chance to cause collateral damage among these very people that they fought for. Granted, most of them supported this socialist government, this false sense of leadership. Most of these people had no idea or comprehension of their cause. Did this make them the enemy? No. How could it? How could they view such people, who were probably naïve far beyond the point of being a threat, as a necessary target for the fight against the State?
He looked past the distorting rain drops on the window to the wet, dark streets below. Most were heading home, and the streets were steadily becoming empty. It partly made him cope with the turmoil within, seeing many of these people leave harm's way, but he knew this disease would spread far beyond eyesight. Jakov let his gaze settle on the halo created by the street lamps four stories below. I don't want to do this, I don't want to kill thousands of innocents to prove our cause.
He turned to face the men in the room. The looks he got back seemed to share the same division. Nobody wanted to do this, nobody wanted to unleash this hellish substance that would kill in a very cruel and violent way. He remembered the sick joke that had been tossed around prior to arriving here. 'They wont even know what it is! The stuff smells like sweet, inviting fruit!'
He had wanted to punch the man in the face right then and there, for such an inconsiderate comment was not only disturbing, but very true. He could almost envision his own nerve spasms, his own internal organs turning to nothing as violent contractions ripped his body apart. That was the death many would see tonight, that was the price his superiors were willing to pay to make their point clear to the government who fought unsuccessfully to end their rebellion.
Jakov would have never resorted to such extremes, but he vaguely understood their point. Such an attack would break their resistance, since it would prove their determination to over throw this false, guilty, unjust State. They would no longer try to defend their precious resources, but would see the inevitable fact that dissention would lead to thousands of losses.
He regretted his participation in this, but had already signed his life over to doing whatever it took to break this State to nothing. In three hours, he would be committing an act on genocide, and the sins of thousands would rest on his shoulders.
"The Director himself called me, so this is no small deal."
Randy Brient held the cellular phone close to his ear, staring out the window of the van. The sound of raindrops was the only sound to be heard, aside from the voice on the other end of the line, and it offered a surprisingly tranquil feeling to the tense men sitting inside. With the engine and lights off, the van sat inconspicuously among other vehicles parallel parked along the main street that ran right in front of the Social Management building. He listened carefully through the phone, but kept his eyes vigilantly peeled out the building entrance fifty-meters ahead.
"Nerve toxins make this a very big deal, sir." Brient said.
Charles Mahler replied quickly. "Think you can handle it, son?"
That almost made the paramilitary specialist laugh in the van. His superior had given him the same hard-time for as long as he could remember. Mahler always found a way to bring up that settling fact, and for awhile Brient even took mild offense to it. He was not new to the areas of warfare, and his years in the military, and now on the counter-terrorist team, had given far more experience then most battalion and regiment leaders out there. With his commander bringing it up, he had initially thought it was some ploy to keep him 'in his place.'
Randy knew now why Mahler had brought up the same light, condescending joke. It wasn't to keep the relationship between positive reinforcement and negative feedback equal, nor was it to keep him well within the understanding of his authority, but rather to ease up his nerves. Mahler was a good leader, and knew what to do to make his men perform at their best. Brient didn't need to go to the shooting range before a operation, he didn't need to use the Head, or speak with a Chaplin. The one thing that he needed most, Mahler was able to give to him.
A reassuring gesture.
"Last time I checked, I can handle this."
There was a slight chuckle on the other end. "There you go." Mahler paused briefly. "Randy, there's a lot of people counting on you and your team, be sure to put plenty of rounds on these bastards."
"Will do, sir."
"Good luck."
The cell phone snapped shut, and Brient looked behind into the back of the large van. His team waited silently, blending in perfectly with the shadows in their black Kevlar full-body armor. The long G55K's waited idly in their hands, the long silencers adding a menacing touch to the black weapon's formidability. Determination was set in the eyes behind their fragment-resistant goggles, and despite the full face black masks, Brient could sense their resoluteness. These men were trained and ready, and knew the stakes. Tonight, they would either save the city or watch it die under an invisible cloud of deadly gas.
Their history of operations was not short. Aegis had been deployed numerous times to counter threats of various sizes and intents. But this one was different, since in the balance of their success or failure was over ten-thousand civilians. They were fighting to save these people at this moment in time, not taking some pre-emptive action. It made the nerves quite tense.
"This is Blue Leader to all units, SITREP." Brient transmitted into the integrated communication system in his armor.
"Red Team, waiting at Alpha."
"Gold Team, waiting at Alpha."
"Green Team, waiting at Alpha."
"Brown Sniper, sight's cold, on station."
"White Sniper, sight's cold, on station."
The entire counter-terror team was in position and ready. Brient looked down the street towards the building's entrance; the long, wide steps leading up past the pillars to the closed, locked double doors. The building vaguely looked like a monument, and was actually fairly majestic, rising five stories vertically, being constructed of stone, and harboring a large dome at the top. The structure was formerly the planet's capital building, before the majority of the Executive Branch moved to Standyle. It was now used as one of the social program headquarters.
The street had a few vehicles parked along it, and the streetlamps illuminated the area well enough. Nobody was out, and the nearby buildings were mostly dark, save for the occasional light in a window. Local law enforcement, though not being informed of the situation for security reasons, were put on high alert, and units were strategically positioned to cordon off the area once Brient's team moved out. Biological/chemical response teams were positioned out-of-sight, just in case there was a release of the Nerve Agent, and paramedics were ready.
Everyone in the counter-terror force was outfitted with gas-masks, and were wearing air-tight suits under the armor. While they were going to eliminate these terrorist before they could release the Agent, they weren't taking any chances if things went down hill. Brient found the extra equipment more of a nuisance, but he knew it was a necessary precaution.
"Romeo One to Blue Leader, I have eyes on three vehicles approaching from the east, one mike out."
Brient brought his binoculars up and zoomed in on the road directly ahead of him. Sure enough, three pairs of lights were making their way along the road towards the front of the building. The vehicles were actually large trucks, which was a dead give away. This is it.
He took a deep breath. This was their chance to save this city and inflict damage among this terror organization for the first time. They were no longer sitting on their hands, waiting to act. Now they were sitting fifty-meters away from the building that was being targeted, waiting silently in the rain as the hour reached midnight. He could feel his muscles tense up, and unconsciously flipped off the safety to the G55K. The large black rifle, his instrument, waited coldly in his hands. This weapon would be taking lives shortly.
"Blue Leader to all units, standby."
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