Brose at the Center
by Jennifer Sue
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 1
As things returned to normal at The Center after their horrific unscheduled trip to the mall in New Jersey, Brose withdraw from casual social contact with her fellow students. In every math, science and biology class and during lunch, she could feel their apprehension at being close to her... the human killing machine. It felt as if the other students were looking at her as if they were afraid of what she had done. Truth be told, quite a few were doing that. All were glad she was on their team and all those who had been on the expedition understood they wanted Brose with them on future missions, yet many were also afraid she could slip into her mechanical executioner mode. The tension she felt between herself and the other students coupled with the guilt she felt for killing so many people on the mission to make her wonder if she could ever have any type of normal life. In many ways, what she was experiencing now was almost identical to the way her classmates had always treated Dave, only then it was because of the ever present hog stench. The isolation then had been tolerable because that was all Dave had ever known. Now that same isolation felt like a knife to her heart. Having known friendship, even if only briefly, made the withdrawal of companionship emotionally devastating.
Logically she knew what she had done on the mission was for the best as it was through her actions the quads had been rescued. If it hadn't been for her they would be in enemy hands by now. Still she felt guilty for killing all those people. Sure, they were the so called bad guys, but could she have done things differently? She 'what if'd herself into a remorseful funk. The only time she felt a bit of relief was during her afternoon training sessions. She honed her knife fighting skills to perfection and she excelled in hand-to-hand combat. The firing range was her playground.
On the firing range, since it was virtually impossible to improve her accuracy, she expanded the range of weapons. Just as she preferred her Desert Eagle, she fell in love with the .50 caliber M107, a semi-automatic long range sniper/anti-material rifle that used .50 Browning machine gun bullets. The unloaded weight of the gun and scope was twenty eight and a half pounds. The assembled length was fifty seven inches, in takedown mode 38 inches. The safety was an easily reached manual thumb-lever. The magazine capacity was ten rounds although most people preferred a load of 8 to 9 rounds. Once the target was in the sights of an expert marksman, they could aim and fire on target at the rate of 1 round per second. The weight of the magazine with ten rounds was four and one eighth pounds, the muzzle velocity 2,800 fps, the muzzle energy 11,500 foot-pounds, and the maximum effective range was 7,450 yards [2.6 miles] while the absolute maximum range was 7,450 yd [9.8 miles].
Brose astounded everyone with her expert marksmanship. At two and a half miles she was able fire the ten round clip in ten seconds clustering all the shoots in a three inch circle on a moving target. Other skills she honed were stealth, camouflage and concealment, easily exceeding the requirements the US Navy demands of Seals.
While she still supplied scents for the cafeteria and lounge areas, she unconsciously began to exude the cloying smell of hog manure in her perspiration. While not strong enough to contaminate a room, it did annoy anyone near her, sort of like a permanent fart. This resulted in no one wanting to sit near her so in every class there were empty seats about her and she always made sure to get to the cafeteria early or late so she could sit alone to eat.
Brose spent most of her free time working out, adding to her already formidable strength and endurance. As she exercised and perspired, the hog manure smell intensified and made the gym rather unpleasant. When the talent coach finally questioned Brose about her manure scented perspiration, she was clearly stunned. As she sniffed herself she realized he was right. When she failed to shut it off, she began to panic which only intensified the odor. Realizing it was out of her control, she fled outside to avoid contaminating the building, collapsing in tears as she remembered ‘Stinky Finky”.
In the following investigation, it became clear Brose was suffering from PTSD. While she could still control her odorkinesis as she had in the past, she could do nothing about her hog manure scented BO. Even without talking to the shrink she understood it was an unconscious defense mechanism to keep people away from her just as the hog manure smell had done all her life. Daily counseling sessions in a well ventilated room revealed the issues causing her PTSD, but did little to help. To go to her classes and other activities, Brose had to wear a self-contained haz-mat suit to keep her BO from disturbing others.
During an afternoon training session with Mr. Lions she had her ah-ha moment. They were trying to find out how she had been able to block the damper in the mall. They reviewed her initial exposure to a dominator back on her aunt and uncle’s farm. Brose had said it felt like the dominator had raped her mind during the first intrusion. At the dominator’s second attempt, Brose reported she felt the powerful mental probe ‘ping’ her mind and angrily fought back, pushing her back out. This had obviously shocked the dominator and Brose had felt her sudden fear. Anger at the rude mental intrusion had flooded her (Dave) and time seemed to slow. It had been at that point the odorkinesis had kicked in.
“That wasn’t the first time I felt someone trying to mentally communicate with me,” Brose gasped to Mr. Lions. “When I was heading in to the farm and passed Lise, even though I didn’t understand I sensed her empathy powers, I immediately understood what she was trying to tell me just by ‘feeling’ her empathy. Then when she came to comfort me after everything went down, I ‘felt’ she wanted to help me. It wasn’t like I was reading her mind, but I was sensing her empathy.”
“Now that I think about it, at the mall I somehow sensed there was a damper in the food court,” Brose continued. “Even before he tried to blast us! I must have unconsciously put up a mental shield that deflected his mental assault while at the same time tracing it directly back to him. When I charged in, I was already squeezing the trigger and aiming before I actually saw him. He saw Luce and I had blown through his attack but the bullet I fired blew his head apart before he could react. Before he hit the floor I sensed the fear of the mercenaries and fired at them without seeing them. I knew where the were by their emotions! The fear they radiated pinpointed them for me. I took each out with one shot even though two of them were hiding behind counters. The .50 caliber slugs penetrated what they were hiding behind to take them out, but I never saw them! I thought I was just smelling their fear, which I did, but I also felt it with my mind!”
“That’s what has me freaked out now,” Brose continued. “I’m picking up the unease the other kids have about me. I’m sweating the hog smell as a defense mechanism against their emotions! Dr. Tipps said I was doing it to keep others away from me and was due to PTSD. It’s my ability to sense their feelings! I guess I’ve got some sort of unconscious empathetic talent.”
Mr Lions summoned Dr. Tipps and they reviewed what Brose had concluded. It was Dr. Tipps who noticed the pig manure perspiration had disappeared.
That evening Brose joined the others in the cafeteria without her haz-mat suit. As soon as they saw her she sensed their apprehension. “You can relax,” Brose smiled. “We figured out what was making me literally sweat like a pig and I’ve been able to control it.”
Nearly everyone breathed a sigh of relief and several applauded. Brose joined the quads, all four dressed in the girls uniform looking for all the world like two sets of identical twin sister sisters. The five chatted up a storm as Brose caught up on all the quads were doing. Brose was relieved they enjoyed being together at The Center.
*****
During the ensuing talent sessions, it became evident that Brose had been under-evaluated at her initial screening. The scientists sent a team of inspectors out to the farm she had grown up on under the guise of an EPA inspection. Since Brose really felt no emotional connection to her aunt and uncle, she went with them posing as an intern. While one team kept her aunt and uncle busy, Brose led the others to the hog barns where she showed them the drain pipes she had crawled through to exterminate rats.
Using remote controlled rovers, they set up the ventilation fan and sent the rovers inside. What they found confounded the scientists. The concentrations of poisonous gases should have proved at best debilitating to Dave if not fatal. There was no way the boy should have been able to endure the rat hunts. The films the rovers made of the trip proved claustrophobic to all who saw them. The staff developed a new appreciation of Brose’s stamina.
This led to Brose becoming a lab rat herself. For several days the doctors and scientists tested her. After donning a sophisticated breathing apparatus that measured the gases she exhaled and regulated the air she inhaled, they had her run on a treadmill. At first they measured her output on standard room air. Even after two hours of full out running, her CO2 levels were no higher than someone taking a casual stroll. Her blood pressure rose to 200 over 130 and pulse rose 210BPM to hover in the danger zone, but she showed none of the ill effects such readings should have engendered. They took blood samples every fifteen minutes from a trap as she ran to get blood gas readings. They also sampled her perspiration. Upon analyzing her sweat, they discovered why her exhaled CO2 levels barely rose. Somehow she was exuding the excess CO2 through her sweat!
Once they had mined all the data they could from repeated trials, the scientists and doctors began to add the noxious gases they’d found in the sewers under the pig barns to the mix. At first there seemed to be having no effect on Brose. It wasn't until they upped the levels to what should have been incapacitating or fatal concentrations they noticed changes. Her CO2 levels rose slightly but were still no where near what was expected from her exertions. While her pulse reached 300 bpm, her blood pressure soared until it pegged the 300 limit of the equipment. She should have dropped dead but instead just kept running.
Again it was the combination of blood gas readings and perspiration that revealed what was happening. As expected, the poisons showed up in Brose’s blood samples. But somehow Brose cleansed the poison from her blood before it harmed her body by sweating it out! Her perspiration while she was exposed to the poisonous gases was toxic. Somehow her body had adapted, using what should have been fatally high blood pressure and pulse rate to extrude the poisons from her blood into perspiration. They assumed that ability was somehow related to the contamination in the bottled water her mother had consumed.
Deciding to see how powerful her ability was to sweat out poisons, they placed her and the equipment in a sealed room. Once she was hooked up to the monitoring devices and began to run on the treadmill, they pumped in knock-out gases. As she breathed in the various gases, her body filtered them from her blood and extruded it in her sweat. While tear gas made her eyes water, it didn't slow her down or cause her to cough. What amazed those examining her was that it took absolutely no conscious effort, her body automatically filtered out poisons.
As further proof of her ability, they had her lie on a bed while one at a time they injected high doses of various sedatives directly into her body. Brose reported she could feel a brief bit of drowsiness immediately after the injection but that it quickly faded. Monitoring her perspiration they discovered the sedatives being extruded through her skin.
As a further test, the scientists obtained a king cobra and anti-venom. With Brose's permission she allowed it to bite her while they monitored her. Normally fatal to a human in thirty to forty five minutes, other than a slight burning sensation at the site of the bite, she suffered no ill effects. Once more the poison was extruded as perspiration through her skin.
The scientists tried to pull Brose's medical file from before her transition and were quite shocked to discover there was only the hospital record of his birth and the normal childhood immunizations. Dave had never seen a doctor. A bit of investigation revealed that he never missed a day of school. When questioned, Brose could never recall ever feeling ill or even had the sniffles. Her aunt and uncle had colds and flu nearly every winter, but Dave had never caught any bug.
One thing that had been previously overlooked in the medical record Brose had compiled at The Center but now took on importance was that she healed rapidly. The injuries she suffered when she exploded the training building included concussive injuries, severe bruises, minor cuts, and scrapes as well as hearing loss. The bruises never reached the severity they would on normal people. The scrapes healed overnight and the minor cuts in about thirty hours. The concussive force had caused everyone to bleed from their ears and the damage took between a week to ten days to heal and most had some scarring inside the ear canal. The hearing loss Brose suffered dissipated in twenty four hours leaving no damage. As for the shock wave itself, the damage passed in hours.
The scientists concluded her exposure to the contaminated water somehow enabled her body to make these unique adaptations. It was the only logical conclusion they could reach. Growing up in a highly odiferous environment, her metabolism had adjusted itself to compensate for poisons in a similar manner to how people born and raised at high altitudes are much more efficient at breathing in the thinner air than those born and raised at sea level. This probably also explained her tremendous physical strength, stamina and rapid healing. They also theorized it had a great deal to do with her tremendous accuracy due to phenomenal eye-hand coordination and body control. The transition had not only incorporated her pre-existing ability to sweat out poisons but had enhanced it to enable her to create odors and gases at will. What this meant was that while Brose was an odorkinetic, it was NOT her main transition generated talent.
The odorkinesis, while powerful, was a variation of her pre-existing ability to sweat out poisons that was greatly enhanced by the change. Her true talent was her ability to ‘feel’ others without seeing them and to pinpoint their position. She was a powerful receiving empath. That’s how she had ‘felt’ the mercenaries watching her back on the farm that day so long ago. When questioned, the other empaths revealed they knew Brose was always aware of when they read her. In fact, under intense questioning, the empaths realized Brose had ‘allowed’ them to read her. They were all disconcerted to realize Brose could have easily blocked them. By the same token, they all realized Brose had in turn brushed their minds but had never probed other than to locate them.
The question now was could Brose probe into other people’s minds? If so, could she control them? Was she a dominator? Was she a kything? Brose felt the concerns of the staff as they worked with her. She could once more feel the wariness of the empaths as they purposely avoided probing her emotions.
Mr. Lions and Brose put a lot of work into figuring out exactly what Brose could do. At a hundred meters she could detect how many people were in a room by segregating their emotions and if she knew them, she was able to identify them. The accuracy diminished after that, but she was able to detect strong emotions out to three thousand meters and lock in on their location. What was truly amazing was that obstacles such as walls, steel armor, or earth seemed not to interfere with her abilities. She was able to literally 'look' through buildings or even hills to locate not only people, but any animal that could exhibit anxiety or fear.
As a live action test, they set up a series of skirmishes using paint ball weapons. Brose took on ten of The Center's top soldiers. First in a forested venue, then a farm venue, and finally an urban venue. In each case, Brose was to assault the hidden troops who knew she was coming.
Brose was able to sense her opponent’s excitement and apprehension to easily pinpoint each soldier. Then she was able to infiltrate their positions while avoiding detection due to her 'sensing' when someone's gaze was heading towards her position. Guys peeking out got nailed as soon as their heads appeared as Brose was able to pinpoint the exact spot their head would appear. The monitors showed she fired milliseconds before the person peeked so they were hit the instant they came into view. As she had done in the mall, she was able to 'shoot' the soldiers through cover. Remote monitors notified the soldiers they had been taken out by such a shot. To a man, the soldiers were shaken by her uncanny ability to take out their team unscathed.
If someone was concentrating on an objective, their emotions signaled their intent. While not able to 'read' the thoughts of others, she was able to pick-up their intent. They practiced in the school, Brose stayed out of sight in the hall by the cafeteria. She was able to identify everyone and not only pinpoint which table they were at but also which seat they occupied. While sitting in a room she was able to identify students and staff walking in the halls on various floors within one hundred meters of her location and could sense where they were heading.
Next they had Brose try to send emotions to others. Lise worked with her on volunteers but there was no success. Brose could exert no influence upon empaths, telepaths, or any other mind sensing/control ability. The most she could do was piggy-back their probing efforts to pinpoint their location. While she was not able to read or influence their thoughts, they could sense her presence which most certainly scrambled their emotions thus disconcerting them and breaking their concentration. Since the testing was done with her fellow students, Brose toned down the emotional scrambling, but realized she could easily cause a person to go into a panic. The mere presence of her tag-along could induce fear, uncertainty, depression or practically anything emotionally disturbing.
The volunteers were all shaken by what Brose could do. Only those who faced dominators had experienced similar fears. The thing they realized was that Brose could only touch another person’s mind if they were actively using their sensing/probing talents, even if their focus was on another person. Brose could piggyback on their output and follow back to the originator. With further testing, they discovered Brose could also piggyback someone else's probe into the receiver's mind.
Through these tests they proved Brose was a powerful empathy receiver, who was able to trace emotions back to the emitter and often sense their intent. She was not able to influence them in any way. If she encountered someone who was sending out mental probes she was able to piggyback herself on their probes. With that she could read the intent of the sender and receiver. Her ability to piggyback was also how she blocked mind probes.
*****
The quads were in reality twin twins. They eagerly trained with their talents and grew quite accurate and skillful in their uses. The quads knew whenever one quad was using their talent. When together they quickly learned how to avoid canceling each other out. Sunny and Shadow were able to unite their photo/umbra kinetics to create a spiraling cyclone of intense blinding bright light and absolute darkness. They could vary the size and spin of the vortex. They also were able to set their opposing powers so it would pulse out like water from a hose but rapidly switching from light to dark without a pause in a strobe like effect. Both methods were highly disorienting.
In addition they discovered that by using their innate twin link, one could pump up the power of the other. With the talent of one quad linked, Sunny was able to project an almost laser like tight intense beam. The beam would not burn through material or flesh like a laser, but if pinpointed into a surveillance camera lens it would overload and fry the light sensor thus rendering the camera dead. They assumed the same would happen if the beam went into someone's eye but they didn't want to try that.
Blaze and Snow soon discovered they too could link their talents. They were able to unite their pyro/cryo kinetics to create a spiraling cyclone of intense heat that ignited combustibles and ice inducing cold. They could vary the size and spin of the vortex. They also were able to set their opposing powers so it would pulse out like water from a hose but rapidly switching from heat to cold without a pause in a strobe like effect. Either method proved extremely devastating.
Like their twins, they discovered they too could link their talents to pump up the power of the other. Linked, Blaze could melt steel or Snow could freeze an object down to near absolute zero which made it super brittle. Both methods left a long term 'burn' effect because the object didn't instantly cool down or warm up and anyone touching it could suffer.
The quads could also combine cross twin, Blaze could send out a fireball cloaked in a ball of darkness or a cone of bright light. Snow could send out an ice attack similarly cloaked.
On top of that, the quads could link and the power of the other three would boost the talent of the primary user. The power of the links squared. Two together boosted one to twice the power. Three together boosted one to four times the power. Four linked together boosted one to eight times the power. The boosted quad could increase the intensity or the range of their talent or a combination of both. The same held true for their blended talents. One quad could boost two or three of the others.
Although they tried, only the quad who had a particular talent could use that talent. They could share talent energy but not talent. In experiments, they found that through their link they could cause a sedated quad to issue a blast of their talent but had no control. Since each user is immune to the effects of their talent, they could use it in an emergency.
Even before their transition, the quads had a unique mental link, thus their quad speak. For them, taking tests was always a communal effort. The transition improved their capabilities, doubling the range they had previously enjoyed. Now when within one hundred meters, they had virtual telepathic links that were always 'on'. They had learned how to mute the links but even then were able to snap it open if an energetic thought knocked or one of the other's knocked. At distances up to five hundred meters they were empathetic. So far they found no range limit on pain, sorrow, horror, anger or fear. Their ability to link talent powers was limited to their telepathic range. The ability of one quad to initiate a talent blast was their empathetic range.
The main concern was that their innate telepathy might leave them vulnerable to psychic attacks. They practiced their muting capability and succeeded in making it more powerful to the point they were able to prevent intrusion while still feeling someone knocking. Then they brought Brose into the testing. She was able to piggyback on the quad's telepathy. That really shook the quads as no one had ever intruded into their telepathic space. While not being able to read their thoughts or them hers, they were able to communicate empathically and with practice even crude images. Brose was able to show them how she blocked intrusions and they were able to duplicate her methods. They were able to block out Brose while she piggybacked. This didn't prevent Brose from locating them or sensing their emotion, but did prevent any intrusion. Blocking Brose did not interfere with their ability to communicate. Whether that would be enough to keep others out remained to be seen.
The quads also eagerly engaged in the military training available. Having experienced being the victims of armed assault, they wanted to be able to defend themselves without using their talents. Their grandfather had taught them how to shoot .22 pistols and rifles so they quickly picked up the weapon training, easily qualifying on numerous weapons. Since they had taken ballet and acrobatic lessons from age three to ten they had excellent coordination, reflexes, and agility. With those as abilities as a starting point they did well in hand to hand combat training. While not experts, they were so motivated they easily achieved the combat proficiency level of US Marines just out of boot camp in two weeks. In addition they ran and did weight training every day to build their stamina and endurance.
The quads, emboldened by their success in training, decided to ask if training in Parkour could be made available to the students. The adults didn’t have a clue but videos of MTV's Ultimate Parkour Challenge soon educated them. They also presented evidence the Royal Marines were taking Parkour training to aid their urban warfare abilities. No one could argue parkour skills would not prove handy to the students. Inquiries were made and initial contacts were made with American Parkour, the leading parkour and freerunning community in the world. Established in 2005, APK has grown to be home for over 90,000 registered users.
*****
Representatives from the Department of Homeland Security investigated several possible instructor candidates. After doing background checks on those deemed possible instructors,, interviews were held. Everything was done under the guise of selecting qualified, trustworthy parkour instructors for two full time positions at a unique elite private high school that wanted to avoid public exposure for the safety and well-being of it’s students. Once the field was narrowed, sit down discussions were held with Ms Fine and Lili who were identified as the Dean of the school and a student counsel representative respectively. Lili used her telepathy to vet the candidates. The first item was that non disclosure statements would be signed with the assurance they would be enforced. Several candidates refused to sign and the interviews were promptly ended. Those that signed were then informed the school was sponsored by the US government. Any betrayal of confidentiality would be construed as a violation of national security and would be treated accordingly. This removed more candidates. Generalities were discussed as Lili monitored the candidates. If she detected hesitancy or anything that might lead to an eventual issue she would take the pen she was using to make notes and click the retractor mechanism three times. Ms Fine knew that meant the person was no longer a candidate and the interview was cut short. Five year contracts were offered to the instructors. They would have to move to the school where housing, clothing and meals would be provided as would free top of the line unrestricted medical care. All mail outside the facility would be done via an APO address. All electronic communication would be routed through a hub in the Department of Homeland Security. The salary started at seventy thousand dollars and would increase ten percent a year. A retirement program of ten percent of their salary would be set up with them able to contribute ten percent of their salary.
The two candidates Lili deemed most likely to accept the reality of The Center were offered the positions. They were given a week to wrap up any personal affairs and were given their APO and DHS phone number. Any communications that might be needed to make with their new employer would be done through their new DHS phone number.
Dave Ringler was a twenty five year old army vet who became a parkour enthusiast during his tour in Iraq. Since his discharge, he’d discovered he simply couldn’t go back to his pre army civilian life and had found solace in parkour and free running and soon became an instructor.
Harry Hatz was a twenty two year old who dropped out of college after one year to chase a dream of becoming a top parkour athlete. Unfortunately, there was little demand for parkour athletes so he migrated to instructing.
The two knew each other and were on good terms. They would share an apartment in the staff facilities of The Center. The ride to The Center in a blacked out SUV was a bit disconcerting but they were told the location of the school simply called The Center needed to remain a secret.
After settling in, they were given a tour of the facility. There were stunned by the size and sophistication of the building. As they toured the student cafeteria they were surprised. While the students all wore the same uniform, the variety of hairstyles and colors seemed out of place. When they were introduced to Kristyn and Max, they were more than surprised. These kids were their bosses? The story about transitioning seemed fanciful until Kris demonstrated her sparking fingers. Then Max lifted the water out of the glass beside him and floated it over to water the plant on the window sill.
The guys quickly settled in and adapted to life at The Center. Their classes were stuffed with enthusiasts. Most were in it just for the rush, but several were in it to enhance their martial arts skills. Brose and the Quads fell into that group.
*****
Kristyn was pleased Brose recovered from her PSTD but wondered if she was still qualified to be a leader. Was she the best choice to be placed as second in command under Luce? It was Brose who stepped forward asking to sit down with Kris and Luce.
“I’m not sure I’m ready to take on the responsibilities of being second in command for the Gamma site,” Brose began. “I’m a hands on type person. I feel I can do a good job as a squad leader, but my people skills are not up to being a unit leader. I’m not sure I’ll ever reach that point. Give me a task and a small team and I’ll get the job done. I’ll work with and coordinate with other squads like I did on the Quad mission. I feel I’ll be more valuable as leader of a squad.”
“You’ve surprised me again,” Kris replied. “Your honest self evaluation tells me I made the right decision in promoting you. I will admit your PTSD issues have given me concerns about your capabilities as a site second in command. I’d like to discuss this with my staff so if you’d wait outside for a few moments, we’ll make a decision.”
“Thank you,” Brose acknowledged and left the office to wait in the outer office.
After discussing the matter with the staff and Luce, it was decided to keep Brose as a team leader but remove her from being second in command to Luce.
“Thank you,” Brose declared as she accepted the decision with more than a bit of relief. “I’ll make sure you never have reason to regret your decision.”
“I have no doubts of that,” Kristyn smiled. “Now, because of all the publicity about the New Jersey affair, we’ve had to stretch the truth a bit and that concerns you. It seems it has become unofficial public knowledge that there was one soldier who shot down a jet and helicopter with a Desert Eagle.”
Brose blushed and fidgeted.
“To make that rumor seem more true than the reality of you, we’ve pre-dated your military enlistment to a week before the terrorist attack,” Kristyn explained. “Officially, that mystery marksman was a private in the army when the action took place. I wanted to let you know.”
“Thank you, Ma’am,” Brose replied as she saluted Kristyn.
“As for your current status, we’ve decided to have you lead a special squad,” Kris stated. “We feel the talents of the quads and their unique ability to boost places them amongst the most formidable in The Center arsenal. We’ve decided to assign them to you with the intent to make a strike force that can be used for rescue operations or outright assaults. Three soldiers will also be added to the unit. We’d like you to begin training as a unit.”
“Yes ma’am,” Brose smiled glad she was given the quads. “We won’t let you down.”
*****
Brose took her task to heart. With a weird sense of humor, Brose called her squad the Special Operations Squad, SOS for short, confident that anyone her unit faced would be sending out an SOS. The quads were delighted to be assigned to the unit under Brose’s command. The soldiers were crack battle hardened decorated troops who had served in Iraq. Sgt. Glenn McNeil was a decorated veteran of Iraq. His skills as a Special Forces Engineer were impeccable. Pfc. Karen Loose was a motor transport operator. She could not only drive nearly anything, she could repair them too. Sgt. Jerry High was a Special Forces Communications technogeek. Computers and communications were his forte.
Together they conducted training exercises. With a boost, Snow could form an ice bridge across a twenty meter wide running stream that was strong enough for the unit to move across. Blaze then easily melted it removing all trace of the temporary bridge. With full packs they could move fast and stealthily for hours day or night. Shadow could create a moveable shadow shield around the unit while Sunny illuminated their path inside the shield.
In addition to regular combat training, Brose requested the SOS squad get airborne training. If they were needed for a rapid deployment, the ability to parachute into a location might make a huge difference in the mission’s outcome. Luce had already led a skydiving assault when they took out Section Three of the Syndicate.
Kris agreed to a trial that was safe. Just as Luce had done, Brose and the quads got to experience the HALO (High Altitude Low Opening) jump simulation. All screamed but asked for more. Within a week, the entire SOS Squad was jumping out of a plane. A week later they were actually doing HALO jumps.
Brose suggested they mount a mock ground assault on The Center when it was on full alert. At first the military staff refused, but Kristyn felt it would be a valuable experience for the team and The Center so authorized it. As a precaution, an army regiment was sent out to establish an armed perimeter two thousand meters outside The Center perimeter to provide security while the exercise was taking place.
The scenario was set up to begin at dawn with the assault after dark while The Center was on full alert and all the on-site students participating. Weapons were replaced with paint ball guns. The assault could occur at any time between dusk and dawn and come from any direction.
At sunrise Brose and the soldiers scouted the perimeter. One of the quads was with each of them so they were able to maintain radio silence and used each other as relays to communicate. By noon they settled on an infiltration along the main entrance rightly figuring this would be the approach least expected.
Just before sunset, Brose set out with a paint ball sniper rifle to the low point of the perimeter about five hundred meters from the entrance where drains and swales created a lot of cover. Using the paint ball rifle she popped each of the surveillance cameras covering the area. As the base went on high alert Brose scrambled back to the entrance. Lining up in a drainage ditch beside the main road, Snow erected a bubble of ambient temp air around the group to mask them from infrared sensors. They moved up the ditch in the bubble until they reached the gate. Brose then projected a bubble of powerful knock-out gas at each guard rendering them senseless. With Blaze and Shadow combining their powers, Blaze made a torch that sliced through the fence like butter while Shadow blocked out the area immediately in front of the cut. Snow snuffed out the tell-tale lingering heat as soon as they were done.
The squad then moved forward with Shadow masking them from the cameras with darkness while Snow continued to block the infrared sensors. When they reached the building, they moved along the side towards the drains. As they expected, the unconscious guards are the gate were detected within three minutes and security teams rushed to the area, including most of those who had been deployed to the drainage area by the snuffing out of the cameras. Shadow hid them from view as the stayed against the building while the troops redeployed to the gates. By the time they guards reached the gates, Brose had reached the manholes above the sewer drain pit just outside the building. All sewage from inside the base flowed by gravity to this pit to be pumped to the treatment plant. Troops could still be seen watching the perimeter.
Inside, the base commander was scrambling. He'd assumed the attack would come well after dark when the troops had grown antsy and careless. He was almost certain taking out the cameras in the drainage area had been a decoy but erred on the side of caution and dispatched three squads, two to take defensive positions and one to check the perimeter. Assaulting the main gate seemed ludicrous but with the guards knocked out and the fence cut, it appeared Brose's team had gained entry to the base. But after scouring the area, they could find no evidence of intrusion.
Meanwhile Brose easily lifted the manhole cover and the team went down after which Brose replaced the cover. The sewer pit was sixteen feet square and twenty five feet high located twenty feet underground. The manhole opened onto a laddered shaft that descended into the pit onto an open steel catwalk that lined the pit eighteen feet above the bottom. This allowed workers access to work in the pit without having to step into the slop. Normally the workers had respirators and fans blowing fresh air to prevent lethal concentrations of CO2 and sewer gases. Brose used her odorkinesis to convert the air to a safe breathable atmosphere. The main sewer from under The Center was a forty eight inch pipe and a small steady stream of sewerage flowed into the pit. Brose had Snow freeze the sewerage into a dome that allowed the flow to continue under the dome while giving the team a solid curved base to walk on. By keeping their feet at the ice/pipe interface, they had solid footing that wouldn't be slippery.
The team was able to simply walk hunched over through the pipe. When they reached an access pit, Brose scanned for people. There were two guards in the room above. Brose pumped the room full of knock-out gas. As soon as both men were down, she flushed the room with fresh air. Shadow created a black cloud high enough off the floor to allow the team to enter. Spotting a surveillance camera she created a shield of darkness to keep between the camera and the team while not blacking out the entire room as the squad quickly moved inside. The guards were moved into a comfortable position and loosely tied and gagged and moved out of sight of the camera. Shadow shifted the blackness to reveal as much of the room as possible as they worked. As this was only a war game, notes were attached to guards indicating they had been killed. This would allow them to free themselves and await completion of the drill.
From the room, they made their way into a deserted corridor. Scanning ahead Brose located everyone on the floor. They were in the sub-basement where all the utilities and physical infrastructure of The Center were located. Quickly they made their way to the ventilation room. Brose scanned the room and detected one guard and three employees. Again she flooded the room with knockout gas. Blaze cut the center out of the locked steel door while Snow promptly cooled the cut. They stepped into the room and smiled when they saw the wires on the door frame. If they had opened the door an alarm would have sounded. The team quickly disabled the electronic controls that could shut the system down or block off sections or open vents or flush areas. The system was locked in the open position and unable to be shut down. Next they moved to the communications hub where they disabled the emergency power source. They did the same to every back-up power source in the basement except for the ventilation system, knocking out the guards and workers and tagging them as dead. Returning to the alarm control room they disconnected the alarms, stationing a soldier and quad there. The rest headed to the main power room. When they were ready, Brose flooded the entire ventilation system with knock out gas. Within thirty seconds someone tried to activate the alarm. The quad there immediately signaled the others and they shut down the main and back-up power. Since they had disabled the back-up systems, the entire alarm and communications system crashed as did the ability to electronically lock down the building.
Brose then filled the ventilation system with the rotten egg smell of natural gas. The team rapidly moved to the motor pool with Brose creating a bubble of fresh air for them. The guards were down so they pushed a Hummer to the door, manually opened the overhead, then started the Hummer and drove off as Blaze ripped a weak fireball into the motor pool.
With guns at the ready, the squad tore off through the grounds to the perimeter fence where Blaze hit the fence with another weak fireball. At that point they stopped, not having damaged the fence.
There had been a few minor injuries when people passed out, but no one suffered disabling injuries. The team was delighted with their success. Ms. Fine was embarrassed.
It took two hours to get the systems up and running. If it had been a real attack, Brose's squad would have wiped out The Center. If they had flooded the building with natural gas instead of just the rotten egg odor, the fireball into the motor pool would have blown the building to pieces.
The amazing thing was from the time the Brose popped the surveillance cameras at the drain until they stopped the Hummer at the fence, only an hour had passed. The assault team had never been spotted or detected. They successfully took out all the people they encountered. Basically, they simply blew through what had been thought to be a top of the line security system.
In the after action interviews, the team detailed all they had done. That they had been able to mask themselves from the infrared cameras stunned the base security officer. Reviewing the surveillance tapes they were able to see the shadow of darkness in the room in the sub-basement where they emerged from sewer. But at no time had it fully blocked the view so the picture never went blank. Alarms were added to all the controls they had disabled so when someone turned them off, an alarm sounded. Each manhole cover was alarmed with the sensor hidden in the ring that held the lid. Contact alarm tape was affixed to the inside of all doors so if someone cut through a door it would trigger an alarm. Similar precautions were taken at the Beta and Gamma sites.
Brose and the Quads were overwhelmed by the praise of their fellow students. Like all somewhat rebellious teens, they had given ‘the man’ a black eye and gotten away with it.
*****
The SOS unit trained incessantly. Brose demanded perfection, and drove herself harder than those under her command. While the soldiers had not been on the quad rescue mission, those who had recounted the role Brose played. They saw first hand her accuracy with the Desert Eagle. During their training, Brose made it clear she personally didn’t care for automatic weapons as she couldn’t adequately aim each bullet. Semi-automatics were ideal as she could fire off individual rounds as fast as she could aim and pull the trigger. The quads ability with weapons reached expert status in weeks.
*****
It made world wide news. Yet again the US Government was in another standoff with a militant family, this time in the mountains Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania near the tragic borough of Centralia. In 1962 a trash hauler dumped hot ash and/or coal discarded from coal burners into an open trash pit in an abandoned strip mine the town was using as a dump. The borough, by law, was responsible for installing a fire-resistant clay barrier between each layer, but fell behind schedule, leaving the barrier partly incomplete. This allowed the hot coals to penetrate into the vein of coal underneath the pit and light a subterranean fire.
The fire remained burning underground and spread through a hole in the rock pit into the abandoned coal mines beneath Centralia. All attempts to extinguish the fire were unsuccessful, and it continued to burn throughout the 1960s and 1970s. Adverse health effects were reported by several people due to the byproducts of the fire, carbon monoxide, carbon dioxide and a lack of healthy oxygen levels.
In 1979, locals became aware of the scale of the problem when a gas-station owner and then mayor, John Coddington, inserted a stick into one of his underground tanks to check the fuel level. When he withdrew it, it seemed hot, so he lowered a thermometer down on a string and was shocked to discover that the temperature of the gasoline in the tank was 172 ÌŠF (77.8 ÌŠC). Statewide attention to the fire began to increase, culminating in 1981 when twelve year-old resident Todd Domboski fell into a sinkhole four feet wide by one hundred fifty feet deep that suddenly opened beneath his feet in a backyard. Only the quick work of his cousin Eric Wolfgang in pulling Todd out of the hole saved Todd's life, as the plume of hot steam billowing from the hole was measured as containing a lethal level of carbon monoxide.
In 1984, the U.S. Congress allocated more than $42 million for relocation efforts. Most of the residents accepted buyout offers and moved to the nearby communities of Mount Carmel and Ashland. A few families opted to stay despite warnings from Pennsylvania officials. In 1992, Pennsylvania governor Bob Casey claimed eminent domain on all properties in the borough, condemning all the buildings within. A subsequent legal effort by residents to have the decision reversed failed. In 2002, the U.S. Postal Service revoked Centralia's ZIP code, 17927.
Several current and former Centralia residents believe the state's eminent domain claim is a plot to gain the mineral rights to the anthracite coal beneath the borough. Residents estimate its value to be in the billions of dollars, although the exact amount of coal is not known. In a nearby municipality, the government was successful in extinguishing a similar mine fire using methods like those proposed for and used in Centralia. The opinion of these former and current residents, concerning the Commonwealth's desire to obtain mineral rights to the coal, stems from the municipality laws of the state. According to state law, when the municipality can no longer form a functioning municipal government, when there are no longer any residents, the borough legally ceases to exist. Thus, the mineral rights, and all other rights, possessed by the Borough of Centralia (since the mineral rights are owned by the borough and not a private company) would revert to the ownership of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania until the legal status of the land (ceding it to an adjacent municipality) occurs. Residents theorize the state legislature would keep the land in political limbo, so they can extinguish the blaze and mine the anthracite.
In 2009, Governor Ed Rendell began the formal eviction of Centralia residents. He faced criticism from some for this move and the current confrontation has arisen due to his efforts. The Quinn family farm was on the edge of the Centralia mine fire about a half mile northwest of the town and had been condemned along with the entire town. Feeling they were being victimized by a government that betrayed it’s citizens to appease big business, they resisted. To defend their home and property, the family accrued a small arsenal of weapons and ammunition.
In many ways, the farm was quite self-sufficient. Like many family farms in the area, they had their own private coal mine. The production was low and the mine only worked occasionally. To them, mining was a like any other crop they raised from the land. They consumed about half of what they dug and sold the rest to neighbors and friends as an unregulated cash crop. The trouble began when an inspector from the Office of Surface Mining Reclamation and Enforcement, Department of Interior tried to inspect the mine. The family thought this was just another ploy to get them off their land. The inspector was curtly rebuffed and was forced off the farm at gunpoint. This brought in the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms who were also met with armed though peaceful resistance. This then brought in the US Marshals who were also met with unyielding but so far peaceful armed resistance. News of the latest armed confrontation quickly went worldwide.
Maive was the matriarch of the Quinn family. A feisty woman, the granddaughter of Irish immigrant miners whose husband had been the grandson of Irish immigrant miners, all of whom were members of the Molly Maguires in the 1870s. James Quin had been killed in 1953 during the Korean War, one of thousands of soldiers who died while the negotiators played politics with their lives. Their sons Sean and Patrick, both green beret soldiers who had served in Vietnam, felt that they and other soldiers serving in Vietnam had been betrayed by the political intrigues of the government. They’d been sent to fight a war but were constrained by politics from doing the job that needed to be done. Their return was made even more bitter by the public reaction to the war. The brothers married and settled in Centralia. As the State tried to enforce the evictions, the brothers with their families were pushed out of their homes and moved back in with their mother. There they prepared themselves to defend their land.
The standoff was in it’s third week when an alert came down the chain of command to The Center. Brose was called in for a briefing. At first she didn't have a clue why The Center would be involved in such a case. It seemed the Quinn brothers had several children, two of whom went to Bloomsburg State University. Linda was Sean’s daughter and Rory was Patrick’s son. The cousins found college life challenging. Raised in the tough self-sufficient coal regions of Schuylkill County they ran into the intellectual liberal slant of those who never came face to face with life in the real world. The professors and most of their fellow students never worked a hands on job. Most felt those who worked with their hands were not civilized enough to comprehend the complexity of academia and needed to be guided by the intellectual elite. Naturally the cousins found themselves in the minority. As often happens to those who didn’t agree with their professors, even though they passed the tests the teachers let it be known they were uncouth slugs. Quite naturally, the cousins never fit in with elitist college life instead making friends amongst the other students with common sense. This isn't to say they didn't party, but did so in a traditional Irish manner. Drink heavily but be able to function the next day. There were few who could out drink the young cousins. This is how they met their future spouses, Darby Doyle and Colleen O’Reilly, also the descendants of Irish immigrant coalminers who could handle their liquor. With so much in common, they meshed quickly and well. At the end of the first semester of their sophomore year, they had a night of hard end of semester Christmas break partying. It wasn’t until February the girls admitted to each other they might be pregnant. Tests in March confirmed they were indeed pregnant. In solid Irish tradition they finished the semester since they had already paid for it. As good Irish Catholics they held a double wedding with a raucous reception as soon as the semester ended. The four moved in together as the guys began working. Both landed full time third shift jobs with morning part time jobs as well as weekend jobs.
As the due date approached, Maive finally convinced them to move back to the family farm where the family could help. A week later both went into labor the same day and it quickly became clear neither was going to have an easy time of it. The young couples crammed into a beat up but good running Bronco and with Sean driving rushed them to the hospital. Then began a series of events that turned the family firmly against all forms of governmental authority. A Pennsylvania State Trooper gave pursuit to the speeding Bronco. When Sean pulled over, he was hot as both expectant mothers were moaning in agony comforted by their frantic husbands. The state trooper could clearly hear and see the situation but demanded Sean's licence and registration of the Bronco. When Sean tried to argue they needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible, the trooper ignored him. Even the desperate pleas of the girls were ignored. When the trooper finally returned he said the licence of the vehicle and the inspection had expired and he was going to have the vehicle towed. That was more than Sean could take, after shouting at the trooper to go to hell, he tore off. Ignoring the pursuit of three state troopers, he headed for Geisinger Hospital in Danville. Once in Danville, with the assistance of the local police, they set up a road block and boxed the Bronco in three blocks from the hospital. The girls were crying in agony as the officers approached the vehicle with guns drawn. They ordered Sean out, as soon as he was out, he was thrown to the ground and brutally subdued. Darby and Rory refused to exit as their wives were clinging to them. Sean was outside yelling the girls needed to get to the hospital. Chaos reigned for the next fifteen minutes. Finally a sergeant from the State Police arrived on the scene. It only took him a few moments to figure out what was going on. Needless to say he was quite upset no one had summoned an ambulance for the pregnant women. In the five minutes it took the ambulance to arrive, both women started to give birth. Rory and Darby rightly refused to allow the police to assist. By the time the ambulance arrived on the scene, the babies were well on their way. The ambulance crew delivered the babies alive and healthy but both women were bleeding profusely. Both bled out before they could even be loaded into the ambulance.
Needless to say there were recriminations. The public outcry over the episode humiliated the police as public opinion held them responsible for the death of the women. No one listened to the doctors who said the women would have died even if they'd been in the hospital. A stunned Rory and Darby took their new born babies home as soon as they could. The lawyer who was representing the Centralia victims took on the case and easily won a large settlement. The money was used by the Quinn family to fortify and arm their homestead. Their dislike of authority now festered and a confrontation became inevitable.
What caused the alert for The Center was the death of the mothers. It was highly improbable that both would die of the same cause at the same time. A bit of sleuthing discovered that while the women were in college, neither liked the chlorinated city water so like many students at the time consumed bottled water. Further investigation showed the contaminated bottled water had been available in Bloomsburg at the time the women became pregnant. While there was no firm evidence to show they had consumed the water, the circumstances of the death at childbirth demanded further investigation. So far, all attempts to speak to the family had been rebuffed. The government had them sealed off in their farm but were afraid to push the issue as they wanted to avoid another martyr for the cause of right wing militancy. The family clung to their Molly Maguire Irish heritage as an anchor in the wild world of excessive liberalism.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 2
By all accounts Brendan Quinn and Ailisa Doyle were top students in school. They were also vocally anti-big government and to the school's woe, anti-authoritarian. They were not pranksters and respected property, but never let themselves be swept up in school spirit events. They went to class, did their work, got good grades, and condemned liberalism and authority at every opportunity. While they never engaged in open rebellion, their words often fueled those who had little respect for anything. They were often cited for instigating events but always kept their noses clean. Neither had a social life outside their family and were quite content to keep things like that way. While they talked with their classmates, they never hung out them.
To The Center, once the histories were reviewed, it seemed quite possible Brendan and Ailisa were pre-emerged. Now secluded in their fortress homestead, things could get quite messy if they were to emerge.
The SOS squad was dispatched to get the teens out. If they could defuse the standoff, it would be even better. After the squad was briefed, they boarded a plane. By the time they arrived on site, the Marshal in charge had been briefed that an eight person team from DHS would be arriving. It rankled him that he’d been ordered to give them free rein to do as they saw fit and to offer them any assistance they requested. He was also told to keep their presence a secret and to make sure his team did so too. Needless to say, he was not a happy man, even less happy when he met Brose.
"Hell, you and most of your team are just kids," Marshal Davis declared. "You're telling me I'm supposed to give you whatever assistance you want and let you do whatever you want?"
"No sir," Brose replied with a steely eyed gaze. "Your superiors in Washington told you to cooperate with us so we can do our job."
Marshal Davis looked the heavily armed group over. All wore camouflage fatigues and combat boots. Brose had stripes of a US Army staff sargent and was obviously in command of the unit. Of the three who appeared to be regular military two had three stripes of a sergeant and the other had one stripe. The four other teens had no rank insignia. While the teens looked young, they also looked tough. His eyes came back to Brose. The kevlar vest she wore was obviously made to her specifications. The .50 cal Desert Eagle holstered at her waist looked menacing. The M26 shotgun strapped to her back looked equally formidable. But it was the .50 cal M107 sniper rifle slung casually over her shoulder that made him uncomfortable. By her demeanor he began to suspect this young woman knew how to use those weapons. The rest of the squad was also heavily armed. The unofficial interagency rumors he'd heard about the terrorist attack in New Jersey came back to him. There had been a young woman with a Desert Eagle who had been deadly accurate with the .50 caliber monster handgun. That operation had been under the DHS. But this girl looked way too young. Could this be her? "How old are you?"
"Sir, my age and that of my team has nothing to do with our orders or yours," Brose replied. "We have a job to do and we are going to do it, with or without your cooperation. However, I strongly suggest if you choose not to cooperate, you should start looking for another line of work."
Marshal Davis grew red as he scanned the immobile faces of the squad. "I'll need your requests for support in writing. I'm not going to have my ass burned by a bunch of kids."
Brose reached into the small briefcase she was carrying. "Here's what we need," she said as she handed him the papers with the DHS letterhead and signed by the director himself. "We already have all the surveillance photos we need as well as copies of all the reports on this situation. I assume you have the construction trailer with power, water and bathroom set up at the site we selected. Once we take possession of it, no one but this team will be allowed inside. We'll need an armed guard outside 24/7 to insure security."
"They're having a bit of trouble getting water to the trailer but otherwise it's ready," Marshal Davis grumbled. "I'll see that guards are immediately posted."
"Good," Brose said. "One other thing, under no circumstances is anyone authorised inside the area we have delineated on the maps. If you have anyone inside that area now, they should be promptly withdrawn. We will be scouting the area as soon as we're set up and will treat anyone we meet as hostiles."
Marshal Davis looked Brose over once more. What they were going to do scared him. He didn't want to be remembered as the man in charge of another Ruby Ridge or Waco. "I'll have my men withdraw now. Can you tell me what you're going to do?"
"That is classified," Brose responded as she handed him a slip of paper. "Keep someone here tuned to this frequency. Any communication we need with you will come through on that channel. Do not attempt to contact us as we'll be operating under strict radio silence. If you hear gunfire, ignore it. The FAA already has orders to keep all aircraft at least five miles away. That includes your surveillance choppers. Have a team prepared to move in at any time but only on our orders. They'll be able to drive directly down the access road to the homestead."
Marshal Davis nodded his head. Damn bureaucracy. It really irked him that these kids were sent in to take over a tinderbox like situation. But he was close to retiring at full pension so bit his tongue. The paperwork Brose had given him left no doubts she was legitimate. A chill ran down his spine as he realized he never wanted to face this group.
Brose hated being so curt and demanding. It went against the good manners that her aunt and uncle had demanded. Still, she understood to get the support of other agencies, she had to appear to be a tough, demanding confident bitch. Her team understood that as well.
Fifteen minutes later their two Hummers pulled up by the trailer. After showing their IDs, they parked beside the trailer. As Brose stepped inside the others began to unload their gear. As Sgt. High set up his computers and communications gear inside, Sgt. McNeil and Pfc. Loose began assembling an antenna array. Half an hour after arriving, everything was set up. Stepping outside, they told spoke to the two men posted as their guards.
It was clear the men didn't think too much of this kiddie unit even though they did pack some heavy firepower.
Brose once more went into bitch mode to deal with the guards. "Make sure you pass it on to your replacements," Brose told them as she handed them a bag. "We've wired the windows, doors and equipment with enough C4 to leave a crater if it goes off. No one but this squad gets withing ten yards of the trailer. Is that clear?"
A quick look inside the bag revealed wrappings from C4 explosive. The guards blanched and nodded their understanding.
Brose led the team into the forest. Signs were posted on the trees stating they were trespassing on private property and would be shot on sight. Traveling through the forest they closed in on the stronghold until Brose could feel the anxiety of the Quinn family. Then they spread out in line ten meters apart with Brose closest to the homestead to begin a sweep of the area around the homestead. They discovered several booby traps which McNeil disarmed. It took them two hours to make the circle and clear all the IEDs. Then they moved in closer, right to the tree line but carefully staying out of sight. That didn’t stop the guard dogs from sensing them and barking up a storm. Then in line 5 yards apart they conducted a second sweep. This time Brose followed Shadow so she could keep her concentration on the Quinns. There were several IEDs in little gullies and such that could be used to approach the compound. These were safely disarmed. The quads realized this was no game when Sgt. McNeil removed dozens of claymore mines wired into trees to shred anyone taking shelter behind fallen trees and gullies. They split into four teams, each with a quad. then spread equidistant around the compound keeping in the trees but able to see the compound from the all directions. They made themselves comfortable to watch.
It was evident from the aerial photos the place had been fortified, but seeing it up close only reinforced the seriousness and desperation of the situation. The two feet thick stone walls of the house had been reinforced with a double row of vertical logs held in place by a log wall five feet high. The windows had been reduced to firing slits. Another five feet high log wall had been erected about five feet out from the first log wall, the area between them filled with dirt and rocks. There was a four feet wide open area in front to the second log wall ending against a third five feet high log wall. The open area between the second and third log walls formed an excellent trench work defense. A ten feet wide glacis had been constructed against the outside of the third log wall. Stones had been sunk into the glacis where it met the log wall to form a crenelated top perfect for sniping. The approaches to the front and rear door were no longer straight but zig-zagged through the log and earth barrier walls. It was a formidable bunker. Added to that were five guard dogs chained to earthen log shelters spread around the yard.
As evening fell, Brose called an alert. She could sense increasing anxiety inside the home and movement. Once it was dark, Brose pinpointed a mound near the tree line to warn that someone was coming out of a tunnel. Everyone but Brose and Snow ducked behind a tree or rock. Snow projected a cooling shadow to mask their infrared body signature. A shadowy figure partially emerged from the tunnel and with a night vision monocular scanned the trees. In moments she pinpointed another location on the opposite side where the same thing was occurring. After a few moments, three armed people emerged from the house. Cautiously they made the rounds of the dogs, replenishing the food and water of the chained watch dogs.
When the dogs had been fed, the people returned to the house. A few minutes later, Brose sensed people moving underground. She hurriedly had the quads spread the word. There was a tunnel into the forest. The surveillance teams hunkered down. Three men emerged from the tunnel and made their way into the forest. Brose spread the word for everyone to hold position as she tailed them.
With her talent, Brose did not have to keep the trio in sight. She was able to silently follow them. They traveled a quarter mile to a barren nightmarish landscape made of the detritus of strip mining. Brose closed in as they made their way to a vine covered bank by the edge of the denuded area. Then as she watched, they disappeared into the bank. Soon she could sense them moving under the waste detritus. Another tunnel! Brose knew the US Marshals had manned watch posts covering the barren wasteland but they were far apart and most likely sloppily manned.
Brose made her way to the tunnel and waited until the men were well away, then fumbled through the vines to find the entrance. Soon she was following the men through the well made and reinforced tunnel. When she felt them stop, she stopped. Soon they were on their way again, but now out of the tunnel. Brose followed and soon emerged from a similar shielded entrance on the other side of the barren area, outside the perimeter established by the Marshals.
Soon Brose sensed the men meet up with two men on a back road almost two miles from the homestead. Silently closing in, Brose watched as the men unloaded supplies from a pick-up truck into backpacks and rucksacks. Brose moved to about twenty yards in front of the truck and waited until the three men headed back to the homestead. The two men waited until the three men disappeared into the forest, then climbed into their truck to leave. Even before the driver could start the engine, the barrel of the Desert Eagle was pointed at his head.
"If you want to live, freeze," Brose hissed.
The surprised men jumped and turned to look at the monestrous silencer equipped gun.
"This is a .50 caliber Desert Eagle. I can take you both out with one shot," Brose snarled. "I'd really like to not have to do that as it would splatter your brains all over my gun. Slowly drop the keys on the floor and place your hands on the dash."
The keys rattled to the floor as both terrified men complied. The passenger began whimpering as he wet himself. Brose stepped back opening the drivers door while keeping the Desert Eagle aimed at the men.
"Good boys," Brose chuckled in a heartless manner. "In case you get any funny ideas, I'm an expert marksman with this baby, even one handed. It's a semi automatic so it will fire as fast as I can aim and pull the trigger. Driver, slowly exit and stand looking at me, then take one pace sideways towards the back of the truck."
The driver nodded and did as he was told.
"Mr. Pissed Your Pants, you slide out the drivers door," Brose ordered.
The passenger hurriedly got out of the truck.
"Now I want both of you to unbuckle your pants and drop them around your ankles," Brose ordered.
The driver hesitated until Brose fired a slug into the back of the cab. Even with the silencer, the shot echoed. The impact, coupled with the huge hole in the metal, took away any thought of resistance. In seconds both were down to their skivvies.
Brose keyed her comm link. "This is Sargent Shamrock. I've secured two prisoners on the access lane at coordinates latitude,40.811698,longitude -76.379142. Get people down here to pick them up ASAP but keep it low key. We don't want anyone to know we have them. They are to be transferred to the Federal Prison in Lewisburg and held incognito under the authority of DHS for aiding and abetting terrorists. They have no rights and are not to be questioned other than for identification purposes. Their vehicle is to be impounded pending confiscation. You've got a half hour to get a team here or they'll be killed while trying to escape. I'm waiting. Do you copy?"
Brose stared into the terrified eyes of the two men as she spoke. Once she received an acknowledgment she pulled the M26 shotgun from her vest and holstered the Desert Eagle.
"Who the hell are you," the driver asked in a shaky voice.
"I'm either your best friend or your worst nightmare," Brose smiled evilly as she removed the silencer. “Obviously I’m not your best friend.”
The silence was nerve wracking for the men as they waited. They had little doubt their captor would hesitate to kill them while escaping. They never thought they’d be wishing for US Marshals to take them into custody.
Twenty seven minutes later a vehicle could be heard coming down the access lane. Two minutes later a black SUV pulled up in front of the truck and four Deputy US Marshals scrambled out with guns drawn. Their headlights illuminated the truck, the two men, and Brose. The men were shocked when they realized they'd been taken by a teenage girl.
"You made it with one minute to spare," Brose informed the deputies. "Take them directly to Lewisburg. My people will be there waiting for them."
"Who the hell are you," the deputy in charge asked. He wasn't accustomed to taking orders from females, especially one so young.
"I'm the one who can get your ass shit canned and locked up for insubordination," Brose snarled. "I want you to get search warrants for their homes and jobs. I want a coordinated raid at all the sites at dawn. If you have any questions, forget them."
"Why you cocky little bitch..." the deputy snapped back only to abruptly shut up when the barrel of the Desert Eagle was jammed into his mouth.
"I've been here less than eight hours," Brose hissed at the terrified wild eyed man. "You've been here three f-ing weeks. These asswipes have been supplying the people you were supposed to be keeping inside their compound. I followed three of them here right past your guards. Now, think carefully. Are you going to do what the F I tell you or do I splatter your brains all over these trees?"
Brose pulled the Desert Eagle out of his mouth as soon as the deputy nodded. "Take your complaints to Marshal Davis. He already hates my guts. This will just give him more reason to do so. These men are yours. Do your jobs." Before they could react, Brose turned and sprinted off into the forest.
One of the other deputies asked. "What the hell was that?"
"Fucking Department of Homeland Security," the chief deputy answered as he struggled to get his trembling under control. "I could taste the fucking gunpowder!"
The driver pointed to the huge hole in the side of the cab. "She wanted to make sure we cooperated," he said. "Please, get us the hell out of here!"
Brose headed back to the tunnel, slipped inside and jogged through to the other side. Emerging, she returned to her team. After catching up on the happenings, she had Sgt. McNeil shielded by Snow rig demolition charges at the OP tunnels and the supply route tunnel into the forest. Naturally, the dogs barked but those inside the house could see nothing.
Brose then withdrew the team. Back at the trailer they reviewed what they had done, then used a satellite link to file a report with Ms Fine. It was just after 2:00am when the team snugged into their sleeping bags to get some rest.
After a late breakfast, the team headed straight down the lane to the Quinn homestead. Near the homestead clearing Brose had the team do a quick sweep through the forest to see if the there were any new IEDs. Finding none, she spread the team to cover all sides. Then she slowly walked down the lane into the clearing around the house.
The dogs began barking and in seconds a three rifle barrels were pointed at her from inside the fortified home. Brose stopped and waited.
After ten minutes of nerve wracking silence a voice called from inside the cabin. "Who are you?"
"I'm staff sergeant Brose Shamrock, on assignment from the US Army to the Department of Homeland Security. We took over this operation late yesterday afternoon. Your dogs have been barking at my team as we scouted your position. You've been labeled domestic terrorists and it's our job to take you down. I'd prefer to end this peacefully, but we are prepared to fight. Believe me, we are deadly. I'm asking you to stand down and come out peacefully."
"We haven't done anything wrong," a voice replied. "And we sure as hell ain't none of them freakin' terrorists. This is our land and you're trespassing. Get off our land before we open fire."
"If you don't surrender we will take you out," Brose calmly stated. "We saw your tunnels last night. We also followed you on your supply run. Your two suppliers are locked up in the Federal prison in Lewisburg. Their homes and businesses were raided this morning. As of now you're stuck in your home. I'll be back in thirty minutes."
Brose turned and walked back to the tree line and disappeared. Ten seconds later there were three large simultaneous explosions as the charges at the tunnel entrances exploded.
After the allotted time Brose stepped back into the clearing. "Are you ready to come out?"
"Go to hell, bitch," an older woman's voice called out.
"I've already been there and back," Brose called back. "Like I said, I don't want to see anyone hurt. Please come out."
A rifle barrel poked out a window and swung towards Brose. Brose pulled her Desert Eagle, aimed and fired in less than two seconds. Even though the barrel was aiming at her, the tip of the rifle barrel jerked and mushroomed. Her larger slug hit the barrel dead on and plugged the now distorted tip. The rifle was quickly pulled back inside.
"You don't stand a chance," Brose called out. "Please surrender."
"We'll never surrender," the woman's voice replied but the arrogance of her earlier retort was gone, replaced by growing desperation. "We're not terrorists, we're just defending our home. We just want to be left alone."
"I can appreciate that," Brose answered. "But I have my orders. We'll give you until sundown to think it over, then we'll be coming in."
Brose returned to the trees. She spread the word for the team to make themselves comfortable and take turns napping as they would be staying the night.
As the day progressed, Brose could sense someone crawling inside the tunnels they'd imploded apparently to access the damage. Brose could feel the person's anger each time he reached the rubble, then turned back.
At dusk, the door opened and the youngest children cautiously emerged to feed the dogs. "Take care of the dogs," Brose called out. "But do nothing else."
While the kids were out feeding the dogs, Brose sensed the person who had explored the three imploded tunnels was heading down a tunnel they didn't know about. Brose alerted the team then sprinted off to the intercept the explorer. Snow, who was Brose’s quad, followed as fast as she could.
Brose reached the tunnel area and was soon quietly walking above the tunnel as the man inside slowly made his way through it. As she walked above him, Brose was slowly raising the CO2 level in the tunnel. Almost immediately she could feel the edge of his wariness dull. Brose felt his anxiety swell when he stopped about thirty feet into the trees. The man was panting and scared. They were at the exit. Brose could feel the man becoming disoriented. When he tried to climb up the ladder, he slipped off a rung and fell back to the floor. Brose flooded the area around him with CO2. As he struggled to his feet the world began to grow dark.
Brose waited until she couldn't feel the man any longer, then she pulled the CO2 and inserted fresh air. By that time Snow had joined her. It only took a few moments until they discovered the concealed entrance. Climbing down they found the man slumped against the wall. Brose used a set of zip cuffs to secure his hands and another set to secure his ankles. Then they gagged him. Brose squatted down and had Snow help her maneuver the unconscious man over her shoulder. Once she had him in place, she stood. Snow was awed by Brose's strength. Snow climbed out of the tunnel and Brose followed. Snow helped maneuver the man through the tight opening until Brose was out far enough to lie him down. Together they tied him sitting upright to a tree.
Brose sent Snow to swap places with Shadow, then let the others know she and Shadow were going into the tunnel and into the house. Shadow projected a shield of darkness about five feet in front of them as they made their way to the house. As they got closer, Brose could feel the anxiety of someone watching the tunnel. Brose stopped about twenty feet from the house and whispered orders to Shadow. Blaze and Snow linked their talent power with Sunny who for thirty seconds lit up the open area around the house so brightly it washed out all color and sight. Anyone looking outside was temporarily blinded.
The dogs all howled and ran for the shelter of their dugouts. Those inside the house were stunned and frightened. Several had been blinded. In the chaos, Brose threw a skunk stink bomb into the basement. The man guarding the tunnel immediately gasped and began choking. Brose rushed into the basement and subdued the man before he knew what hit him. Brose zipp cuffed and gagged him.
By the time she had completed tying him up, the skunk stench seeped into the upper house adding to the confusion and pandemonium. Brose tossed skunk bombs into the first and second floors. Gagging and retching were clearly audible. Brose cleared the stench from the basement and called Shadow in from the tunnel. In moments, the rest of the team was waiting outside the front door. Brose charged up the steps into the stink and pulled everyone to the front door. After opening the door, she shoved them outside to be taken prisoner by the rest of her team. Brose placed locators on Brendan and Ailisa, then as she was herding the family out the front door, she ‘tripped’ over the edge of a rug. Brendan and Ailisa took advantage of the misstep and slipped into the kitchen at the rear of the house. After checking that no one was outside, they fled out the back door.
The conflict was over. Brose flushed the fortress home with fresh air. After clearing the front room of weapons, the extended family was placed inside. All were cuffed. The man from the basement and the man outside were brought in.
"I'm glad no one was injured," Brose stated once they were all settled down. "Now we have a dilemma. Just looking around you have quite a stash of illegal weapons. We can destroy them here and now. Without the evidence you won't face Federal charges. You'll still be liable for the running an illegal mine and threatening officials. However, since no one was hurt, with a good lawyer you should make out okay. We'll see to it you get a good lawyer."
"That doesn't make any sense," Maive stated. "Why would you help us after taking us down?"
"Believe it or not we sympathize with your plight," Brose replied. "Just because we were assigned here to get you out doesn't mean we have to like doing it.
Patrick looked around at his family counting heads. "Hey, where are Brendan and Ailisa?"
Everyone looked around and it became obvious the pair was missing.
"Shadow, Pvt Loose, search the house," Brose ordered. "Sgt High, guard the prisoners. Sgt. McNeil, take Blaze, Sunny and Snow and gather all the illegal weapons and ammunition. Place them in the crater of one of the bombed tunnel entrances. Sunny, you help Blaze destroy them, Snow, you'll have fire duty to make sure the fire doesn't spread. I'll search out back in case Brendan and Alisa escaped through the back door."
Everyone set about their tasks. Brose checked her souped up I-phone and located the missing teens scrambling through the forest towards the road a mile to the north. Brose shouldered her gear and took off at a dead run.
Even though the teens had a fifteen minute head start, they had to stop running after five. They walked as fast as they could. They were terrified, confused by what happened, worried about their family, and wondering how they managed to escape after that girl snagged them in the kitchen. They were also concerned about pursuit but so far saw and heard none.
"Have a nice stroll?"
Ailisa screamed. Brendan assumed a defensive stance. The girl that fumbled their capture, the one who was the spokesman for those who attacked the house was sitting calmly on a fallen tree about twenty feet in front of them.
“You were in the house when we escaped," Brendan exclaimed. "How the hell did you get in front of us? How did you know where were heading?"
"Try to relax. I'm not going to harm you," Brose smiled. "First of all, you didn't escape, I let you go. I needed you separated from your family. Besides, I can run a mile in four minutes and get within a few minutes of beating the world record for the marathon."
Ailisa regained her voice. "Are you going to kill us... no you said you wouldn't harm us... are you going to kill our family?"
"Unless somebody does something really stupid, no one will get hurt," Brose stated. "I can see you're winded. Come sit beside me and we can talk. You can have some of my water." Brose took a swig from her bottle to show them it was safe then held it out to them.
Brendan moved first. "Come on, Ailisa, she's got us. She's not even breathing heavy and we're exhausted. Let's at least listen to her."
In moments they were seated beside Brose drinking from the water bottle.
"Your family will be removed from their farm and the buildings destroyed," Brose began. "I've already taken steps to make sure the illegal weapons they had are destroyed without a trace so the federal charges will be dropped. They will be given enough money to relocate to another place nearby or further away. You'll be listed as missing. You'll be going back to our base with my team for some tests. If the tests confirm what we suspect, you'll stay with us. If not, you'll be returned to your family. Unfortunately, if the tests confirm what we think, you'll never be able to see your family again."
Ailisa was quite upset. "Why not?"
"Unfortunately, I can't tell you," Brose answered. "If you test positive, we'll explain everything. My team was sent here for one main purpose, and that was to get you. Ending the standoff peacefully was a big bonus."
"That's the pistol you used to shoot Uncle Darby's rifle," Brendan stated as he tried to absorb what was going on. "You made a lucky shot, hit it smack dab in the center of the barrel."
"That wasn't luck," Brose explained as she looked around for a target. "You see that squirrel on that tree branch about fifty meters away?"
Both looked where she pointed and after a bit of looking, found the squirrel.
"No way you can hit it from here," Brendan declared.
"I could but I won't," Brose replied. "I don't like killing. I'll just shoot off the branch he's sitting on." With that she pulled out the Desert Eagle and retrieved the silencer from her vest.
The eyes of both onlookers grew big as the saw the size of the gun.
"This is a .50 caliber Desert Eagle," Brose said as she attached the silencer. "Watch the squirrel." Brose raised the gun and fired in one fluid motion.
Almost instantly the tree limb exploded about three feet behind the squirrel. The squirrel was so startled he rode the branch to the ground before scampering away.
"Holy shit," Brendan exclaimed. "You didn't even aim!"
"Yes I did," Brose calmly said. "I'm that quick and that good. If we had wanted, my team could have sniped off your entire family."
"The rumors said one person with a .50 caliber Desert Eagle killed over half the terrorists when they attacked that mall in Jersey," Ailisa whispered. "They said it was anti-terrorist teams from the Department of Homeland Defense. Were you involved in that?"
"Yes," Brose sighed. "I still have nightmares. Like I said, I hate killing, but sometimes you have no choice."
Brendan and Ailisa could see Brose was upset by the memories.
"Well, we'd better head back to my base," Brose said as she stood. "Are you going to come along peacefully or do I have to get rough?"
Brendan and Ailisa exchanged looks then shrugged. "I have the feeling we'll being going with you whether we want to or not," Brendan sighed. "We may as well make it easy on everyone."
Brose directed the duo as she followed. They were amazed when they came right to the clearing where the trailer sat. Brose stopped them just inside the trees as they looked at her, amazed at her uncanny sense of direction.
Brose keyed her microphone. "Marshal Davis, this is Sergeant Shamrock. We can break radio silence. I need you to pull the two men guarding our trailer out ASAP. We have secured the homestead and most of the family. They have all been disarmed. The two sixteen year olds escaped into the forest so order your men to be on the lookout. They are not armed. You can send in your clean up units to take over the prisoners and secure the property. Once you relieve my team, they'll be returning to the trailer. We'll be out of your hair by four."
After getting an acknowledgment, Brose waited until the guards climbed into their SUV and drove away. Brose then led Brendan and Ailisa into the trailer. Once they were safely inside she went to the communications console and buzzed the rest of the team. "Packages are safe. Mission status?"
"Mission accomplished and waiting relief," was the reply from Sgt. McNeil.
"Stay away from the windows”, Brose ordered the pair as she pulled a simmering coffee pot of hot water from a hotplate to make herself a cup of hot chocolate. "Help yourself to some hot chocolate, tea or instant coffee. The marshals will be coming by soon so make sure you stay away from the windows."
Brose keyed her team again. "When the Marshals arrive, turn your prisoners over to them, fill them in on what you've discovered, then return to base. I can hear vehicles coming down the road now." Brose motioned for Brendan and Ailisa to stay down, then stepped outside as the lead black SUV pulled up to the trailer while the rest continued to the homestead.
Marshal Davis emerged. "I don't know how you did it without injuries."
"We have our ways, Marshal," Brose replied. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid we should not have gotten involved. Our search revealed no illegal weapons. These people are not terrorists. I'll be releasing the two prisoners we took last night from DHS custody. If you want them I'll have the prison transfer them to your custody, otherwise they'll be released."
"No, we want them," Marshal Davis replied. "We found quite a bit from the searches we conducted this morning."
"When my team gets here, we'll pack up and return to our base," Brose explained. "I'll have a full written report to you in twenty four hours. I apologize for being such a hard ass, but I've discovered it's what I need to do because people think I'm too young to be effective. It's been a pleasure working with you, Marshal Davis."
Brose extended her hand and Marshal Davis took it. "I understand," he said as he applied an unnecessary amount of pressure in his grasp.
The two smiled as Brose increased her grip to match and then overwhelm his. "Like I said, I have to assert myself to get people to respect me."
It was Marshal Davis who broke the handshake. Brose had nearly crushed his hand. "Understood, Sergeant," he stated as he massaged his hand. With that he climbed into his SUV and headed down the lane.
Fifteen minutes later, two SUVs returned and the team exited, thanking the drivers for the lift. Little was said as the team set to work dismantling and packing up their equipment. Brendan and Ailisa watched their efficiency with admiration. They were surprised by the quads.
Ailisa looked at the quads and Brose. "How old are you guys?"
"Same age as you, sixteen," Brose replied.
"You have to be older than that," Brendan declared. "You're a sergeant. That's impossible at our age."
"Not in our unit," Brose explained. "We can't go into more detail until your testing is complete. Until then just keep your questions generic."
An hour later they were on a DHS jet taking off from the Allentown-Bethlehem-Easton Airport headed back to The Center. For Brendan and Ailisa it was their first flight. While they were nervous, their excitement over-rode their anxiety. They sat across the aisles well behind the wings so they could see the ground far below.
After some refreshments, the quads wrote out their report on the mission. Sgt. McNeil, Sgt. High and Pvt. Loose just stretched out and dozed. Brose wrote up her report and kept an eye on Brendan and Ailisa.
About half way through the flight the quads began excitedly talking in quad-speak. That caught the attention of Brendan and Alisa. They Watched in fascination as the conversation swirled from quad to quad with out a break.
"Before you ask, yes, they usually talk that way," Brose smiled as she moved up to the row of seats behind Brendan and Alisa. "I'm sure you've heard about how twins sometimes know what the other is thinking or feeling. Well, as far as we can tell the quads have a telepathic link so they know what they're going to say."
"If they're telepathic," Alisa said. "Why do they bother to talk?
"They told us speaking slows them down," Brose answered. "When they try to 'talk' telepathically, they go so fast they lose track of the conversation. They can give brief silent communications, but for anything longer, they speak. That plus they said if they communicate telepathically for too long, their personalities start to bleed into each other. So to keep their own identity, they speak aloud."
"They're quadruplets," Brandon exclaimed. "They look like siblings but I thought they were two sets of twins."
"They're quite unique," Brose explained. "They're what is known as super twins. Their mother was gang raped, and she had two eggs in her womb. Each was fertilized by a different father. That makes them fraternal twins. For some reason, each egg split into identical twins. Super twins are fraternal twins, each of whom spit to form identical twins."
"That's weird," Brendan shook his head.
"Unusual would be a better description," Alisa added. "So Brose, I assume you and the quads passed this test we'll be taking?"
"Yes, we have," Brose answered. "Now that we're airborne, I can tell you what's going on." Brose related the tale of the contaminated water and the repercussions to the expectant mothers and their children.
"That sounds like science fiction," Alisa was the first to respond. "So that's what happened to you and the quads? You were a boy?"
"Yes, I was six feet two inches and weighed one hundred ninety five pounds," Brose replied. Now I'm five feet seven inches. The change is rough, but it's over quickly."
Brendan was frowning. "We don't have a choice about changing sex?"
"No, it's part of the mutation caused by the contaminated water," Brose explained. "That's why you need to be tested. Everyone who was contaminated is dual sexed. Before transitioning, we have the sexual organs of the sex we appear to be. But we also have hidden vestigial sex organs of the opposite sex. Basically our chromosomes are XXY and we manifest as one sex before transition, and the other afterwards. So far there has been no way to stop it or reverse it. While The Center wants us to learn how to present as our new sex, they do allow us to crossdress. Since nearly everyone has been through the change, no one blinks an eye. It makes no difference if you're straight, gay, bi-sexual or non-sexual. Everyone is accepted for what they are."
"So this Center we're going to," Brendan said. "It's like a military academy for mutants?"
"Not really, we're under the Department of Homeland Security and are commanded by an Army Colonel," Brose said. "It's like a boarding school where we take regular classes. We also train with our talents and in self defense. Some of us also take military training. We go on missions to bring in or stop people as they transition."
"That's what you were doing in New Jersey," Alisa said.
"Yes," Brose replied. "We were after the quads. There are other people that want us for our talents, as far as we can tell, we're the only good guys. The bad guys got to the quads first, they were actual terrorists, we fought them and took them out."
"Wow," Brendan exclaimed. "So is this the first mission for the quads?"
"Yes," Brose replied. "The terrorists killed their grandparents and grabbed them, we got them back. Look, I really don't like thinking about what I did there. It gives me nightmares."
"Sorry," Alisa said. "Can you tell us more about this Center?"
"We have dorm rooms that two people share," Brose said. "Everybody has a study desk with a state of the art computer and we have virtually unlimited access to the internet but our outgoing messages are monitored and censored. We have a nice cafeteria that provides three good meals a day but it's not like a regular school cafeteria. They have a lot of things to choose from and if there is something special you like they try to get it. We have access to food anytime. After hours they have pre-made selections in vending machines and microwaves are available to heat them. We have a student lounge. A huge gym, weight training room, firing range, inside and outside track and outdoors cross country and bike trails. Indoor and outdoor swimming pools, hot tubs, saunas, heck, it's almost like a resort."
"It sounds almost too good to be true," Alisa said. "What are the down sides?"
"There really aren't too many. The hardest is we're not allowed to contact our families because of our sex-change and talents. That would be too hard to explain. The worst is we've got to wear uniforms," Brose said. "They make us girls look like some geeky guy’s Japanese schoolgirl fantasy. They do it so we can acclimate ourselves to our new bodies. It would look weird for a girl to behave like a boy or vise-versa, so the uniforms force us into our new roles. But at the same time they are quite liberal. We're allowed to date and several people have become lovers. The only requirement is that precautions are used to prevent pregnancy and that nothing lewd happens in public. Holding hands, hugging, and kissing are okay, but anything more is done in private. They respect us and in turn, we respect the rules. Our over all commander is a one of us, Kristyn. She reports directly to the colonel. The entire adult staff and our military staff are under her command. We have two other bases beside The Center. All three base commanders are our age and have authority over the students and staff. They report to Kristyn."
“On the whole, it doesn't sound like a bad place," Alisa nodded. "I don't think I'll mind being a boy. I know Brendan won't mind being a girl."
"Alisa," Brendan whined as he turned bright red. "You promised you'd keep that secret!"
"From our family and friends," Alisa answered. "If we change, I can understand why they keep us from our family. It would be too hard to explain."
At that point the orders came to fasten their seat belts as the plane began to descend. It was night by that time so all they could see was the lights of the buildings and vehicles.
Brendan and Alisa saw little as the windows of the SUVs that took them to The Center had blacked out windows. They were whisked to the infirmary and given exams. Both passed and they would be staying on at The Center. They spent the night in the infirmary and most of the next morning getting thorough physicals. It wasn't too often the doctors and scientists had pre- transitioned teens to check out.
Brendan and Alisa were assigned to Jill Reese and Kyle Gator, both level one empaths who would monitor them for signs of first emergence. After being outfitted with uniforms and a small basic wardrobe, they were shown to the rooms they'd be temporarily sharing with the empaths. Once they transitioned, permanent room assignments would be made. Once they put their clothes away in their rooms they were taken to the cafeteria for lunch. They discovered Brose had not been lying about the menu.
Brendan and Alisa caused a lot of excitement amongst the transitioned. They seldom got the chance to meet anyone pre-transition. Most made an effort to introduce themselves. Many told them that there had been some success with manifesting their new body if they decided what they'd like to look like and held that image in their mind as they started to transition.
No one had any idea when they would transition so Brendan and Alisa had to visit the infirmary every morning and evening for quick check-ups and urine samples. Blood would be drawn once a week as well as at the first emergence. They also began taking school classes with the others.
Brendan and Alisa were amazed by the diverse talents. They both began martial arts training as they knew one's knowledge and physical abilities usually not only transferred to the transitioned body, but physical traits were often enhanced as had happened with Brose. They spent some time on the firing range impressing Mr. Weiss with their marksmanship learned in their rural upbringing.
Kristyn was delighted with the bloodless outcome of the mission and hoped by studying Brendan and Alisa pre-transition would help them understand the process. Brose had proved she was capable of leading a bloodless mission.
*****
Brose opened up more after the successful mission as while she had used her abilities, no one had been injured. While still uneasy about her exploits during the quads rescue, she discovered that even the brief conversation she'd had with Brendan and Alisa had improved her ability to deal with the PTSD.
The SOS squad trained nearly every day in many different scenarios. They functioned like a well oiled machine and knew what their squad mates could do. They hoped they'd be prepared for any contingency.
The SOS squad was scrambled at 9:15 am. They all reported to the armory ASAP where Max was waiting.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 3
“One of our pre-cogs has alerted us to a messy emergence,” Max began as soon as the last member of the SOS Squad arrived. “It’s in a high school three hundred forty miles from here. We don’t know exactly when it happens, but do know it goes down during their lunch sometime between 11:00 and 12:30. There is only one way we can get you there in time. That’s to air drop you in. The vision didn’t reveal any opposition intrusion but that doesn’t rule it out. Suit up, small arms, M4A1s and grenades only. We’ll get the school’s floor plans and any further information we can dig up while you’re en route.”
Fifteen minutes later they were in the air checking their gear. This would be a standard daylight skydiving jump. The Military style C-41 CASA C-212 Aviocar 400 was at it’s maximum cruising speed of one hundred eighty six MPH. The flight would take them one hour and fifty minutes.
Brose carried her standard weapons, the quads each had a pair of nine millimeter pistols strapped safely to their thighs with additional clips in easily accessible pouches on the holster belt. Smoke, flash bang, and frag grenades were attached to their belts. Each of them had the wicked K-bar fighting knife in wrist sheaths. The soldiers carried short barreled very accurate M4A1.
About half way to their target the floor plans of the school and other info came in. Apparently the first emergence of a pyrokinetic took out nearly a quarter of the school. DHS was notifying the local authorities of a suspected terrorist bombing in the school. They informed them an emergency tactical unit was en route and would be parachuting onto the school grounds. Ground units were also on the way. The local authorities were also informed the Staff Sergeant Shamrock would be in overall tactical command until senior DHS officers could arrive.
The Squad reviewed the information. They knew the event occurred in a boys lavatory but not which one. The fireball blew the small room apart and severely damaged everything within a hundred meters causing a conflagration. The school floor plans were memorized. As they had requested, fifteen minutes from the site the team was alerted. They packed up their gear and climbed into their jump harnesses. By the time they reached the drop zone, they were ready with their static chutes hooked to the static jump line for immediate chute deployment. They were flying at six thousand feet.
A crewman opened the rear door and Brose readied herself. It was 11:23am when the signal to jump came. Brose was out first followed by the rest of the squad. In moments the squad was para-sailing to their landing zones. It appeared the school was still in the process of evacuating the students and the first emergence had not yet happened. Police cars and fire trucks were streaming to the site. Brose had ordered the squad to split. Sgt. McNeil, Pvt Loose, Sunny and Shadow were to land at the rear while Brose took the rest to the front where the police were responding.
The team was spotted by the students and word spread quickly. Brose could see police and firefighters heading into the building. Brose saw a policeman and fireman in animated discussion and aimed for them. She landed five feet away and quickly shucked her diving harness as the startled men stared at the four military uniformed people landing at their feet with practiced skill. That they were wearing combat fatigues and body armor was not very reassuring.
"I'm Sergeant Shamrock," Brose announced as she removed her jump helmet, showed her ID and put on the regular helmet that had been attached to her belt. "I was told you'd been notified I'm to be in tactical command. Recall your officers and firefighters immediately. No one except my squad is to go inside. Get everyone at least five hundred yards away from the building, that includes all police, fire personnel and equipment. Notify all aircraft to maintain a mile no-fly zone. Anyone who violates the restrictions will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."
It was obvious the two men were not accustomed to taking orders. The police chief spoke. "How old are you?"
"I'm old enough to have you arrested for interfering with DHS orders," Brose declared in an icy tone. "You have your orders. Carry them out." With that she pulled her .50 caliber Desert Eagle. "I'm taking my team in. Get your people out, NOW."
Brose gathered Sgt. High, Blaze, and Snow and headed for the main entrance. The two men reluctantly got on their radios and ordered all their men to immediately vacate the building then set about gathering the evacuated students and staff and marching them down the street away from the school.
Brose had Snow boosted by Blaze pass the orders to move in. Firemen and police were reluctantly leaving.
"EVERYONE OUT, NOW!" Brose shouted as she led her three people inside while brandishing the Desert Eagle.
The sight of the armed figures in full combat gear made the decision for the locals to get out quick real easy. From the front and back, the two detachments of the SOS Squad moved towards the cafeteria. Suddenly there was a tremendous explosion. Everyone was thrown back by the concussion, dust and debris. Virtually all the tiles from the drop ceilings in the halls were blown out. Most of the fluorescent light fixtures dangled by their conduits and swung about. Electricity sparked from a few live wires but that quickly ceased as the circuit breakers kicked off.
Brose surveyed her team to see they were dazed but okay. Snow gave her a thumbs up to indicate Sgt. McNeil's unit was okay.
Brose keyed her mike which had been set to the local emergency frequency. "This is Sergeant Shamrock. Everyone stay out of the school until we clear the area. I repeat, everyone stay out. Do not attempt to extinguish the fire. There may be more bombs."
Cautiously the two teams advanced through the wreckage and dust. As they got closer they could see daylight coming in from the area where the roof had blown away. Fires were burning in numerous locations. The interior walls were cracked and several had collapsed. When they reached the epicenter it looked quite bizarre. Most of the lavatory floor was visible as everything had been blown away from the site. There were smoking, charred and crushed body parts against what was left of the walls. Lying in the center of the space was a naked teen. The fire and blast had apparently consumed his clothes but left him unhurt. The concussion had probably knocked him out. Fires burned furiously around the edges of the damage but the concussion had put most fires out closer to the epicenter. Snow quickly extinguished the nearby flames by freezing the burning material.
The boy was still alive and began moaning and trying to move. Brose knelt beside him.
"Just stay still," she whispered. "You're safe and we're here to help you."
"Wh... what happened?" The confused and disoriented boy muttered as he looked around at the devastated area. "Who are you?"
"We're from the Department of Homeland Security," Brose answered as she helped him sit up.
Sgt. McNeil pulled a poncho from his kit and gave it to the boy who only at that point realized he was naked.
As the clearly terrified teen wrapped the poncho around him he looked around at the squad. "What's going on? What happened to my clothes? What happened to the school? Why are you here?"
"We're here to help you," Brose explained. "I'm Brose, the other teens are Blaze, Snow, Sunny, and Shadow. What's your name?"
"Michael... Michael Williams," the battered teen looked around the devastated area in total bewilderment.
"Okay, Michael, I know this is difficult but try to remain calm," Brose soothed. "As to what happened, you did all this. Before you deny it please listen. You're familiar with the X-men comics where human mutants have different powers, right?"
The befuddled teen nodded his head.
"Well, I'm a mutant, so are Shadow, Snow, Blaze, and Sunny," Brose explained as each teen nodded while McNeil, Loose, and High kept a look out for anyone trying to make their way inside. "You're a mutant too, from the looks of this, a powerful pyrokinetic. Something happened just before all this destruction that set you off."
"Yeah," Michael squeaked in a trembling voice. "Gary and his gang weren't satisfied with taking my lunch money. They started beating me up. It really hurt and suddenly I got real angry and I sort of exploded..."
Michael looked around in wide eyed disbelief. "I really did explode?"
"Your pyrokinetic power exploded," Brose answered. "Fortunately, we're all immune to our own power. However, you did burn off your clothes."
Suddenly Michael looked terrified. "What about Gary and the gang?"
"There's no easy way to say this," Brose said. "You toasted them."
"I... I k... killed them?
"Yes, but it happened so fast they never felt a thing," Brose nodded.
"This can't be real," Michael said. "Mutants with powers are only in comic books."
"Shadow," Brose nodded her head.
Shadow created a ball of darkness, then altered it to create a dome that shielded them from the sunlight. Just as everything went dark Brose said "Sunny." A ball of light appeared in Sunny's hand to illuminate the inside of the dome of darkness. "Snow," Brose stated and the water on the floor instantly froze. "Blaze is a pyrokinetic like you," Brose declared as Blaze held out his hand palm side up with spread fingers. Tiny flames erupted from his fingertips and the flames flickered away to melt the ice.
Michael sat there with his mouth open, then whispered. "This can't be real."
"It's very real," Brose said. "That's why we're here. You're one of us. We have a safe place to live. There are a lot of bad people who'd like to get their hands on us. They want to make us do their bidding. We're here to keep that from happening. Shadow, raise the dome but keep an umbrella above us. I don't want any aerial surveillance picking us up."
"Oh my God," Michael gasped as he saw the grotesquely charred body parts of his tormentors. "Those were Gary..." He leaned over and vomited.
"You didn’t do it intentionally," Brose declared after he was done then turned to her team. "We need to keep his survival secret. Let's move out to the gymnasium. We'll set up our command post there. McNeil, Loose, head down there and stake out a secure location. Snow, go with them and put out any flames that threaten the route. High, Blaze, Sunny, help Michael down there. Shadow, keep them shielded from above and any line of sight through halls. I'm heading out to keep the natives calm."
Five minutes later Brose emerged from the shattered smoking building and jogged down the street to where the local and state police had set up roadblocks. The school was burning in several places. Several news stations had crews filming. As she neared, several people stepped in front of the roadblock to meet her away from the cameras. Everyone was staring at her. Small debris and dust from the explosion covered her from head to toe. Her face was blackened by the soot. It was clear she'd been near the blast when it went off. The police and fire fighters were glad they had been ordered out. Even the brusque police chief was sociable.
"We didn't quite make it here in time. We got caught in the blast but my team made it through. We're not sure if there are any more bombs," Brose declared. "Sometimes the terrorists place smaller bombs to try to injure rescuers. No one is to enter the building but I think it's safe enough to let the fire fighters move close enough to shoot water on the flames. You can move a guarded perimeter to within fifty feet of the school. Have you taken a head count on the students?"
"It's still in progress," one of the men stated. "The evacuation scattered everybody."
"The bomb apparently went off in the middle of the boys lavatory near the cafeteria," Brose informed them. "All the blast damage emanates from that spot. We found some badly charred body parts inside what is left of the room. At this point we wait for the ATF experts to arrive. Get your headcount and find out who is missing. My team is scouring the building searching for other bombs. We're setting up a command post in the gymnasium since it's well away from the blast and we've already cleared it. Other units will be arriving soon by vehicle and helicopter. Direct them to the gymnasium entrance where I can brief them."
Brose ran around the school to the gym entrance. Inside she met her people. Michael was still in denial but slowly coming around. Brose reported the situation back to The Center where the information was forwarded to the approaching relief and clean up units. Fifteen minutes later, the whoop whoop sound of approaching helicopters could be heard. Brose stepped outside to see three military choppers landing. Troops jumped out and spread around the building taking over the security from the overstretched police. They continued to let the firefighters pour water into the flames. An Army colonel and agents from the ATF disembarked and headed for Brose.
After a face to face briefing, the colonel designated a captain to act as liaison with the locals. Three squads of soldiers were assigned to the accompany the fire fighters inside the shattered school while they extinguished the fires with orders to keep them away from the epicenter.
Five minutes later another chopper flew in, this one an unmarked UH60A Blackhawk The Center had informed Brose they were sending to pick up the SOS squad and Michael. Brose bid the new arrivals farewell and organized her squad in tight formation surrounding Michael, hiding him from view. Then they walked quickly to the Blackhawk, Shadow created a translucent cloud like shield to hide the team as they boarded. The single crew chief helped them inside then closed the doors. Once everyone was inside, the chopper lifted off. Brose knew the Blackhawk was near the limit of it's operating radius but should be able to make it back to the airfield at The Center without any difficulties.
Once airborne, they briefly relaxed until Cpl. McNeil noticed the cockpit was sealed off from the passenger/cargo area. Brose and the crew chief noticed McNeil's reaction.
"Shit," said the crew chief as he pulled the pin on the fire extinguisher and grabbed an oxygen mask hanging on the wall.
As gas flooded the compartment, McNeil made it across the area and was able to yank the mask off the crew chief as the gas quickly knocked everyone out... almost everyone that is.
Brose smelled the knock out gas and her body automatically neutralized it. In the confusion of the moment, Brose reached up and snagged the headset the second crew chief would use. Cradling the headset to her own com unit she keyed the emergency frequency to alert The Center. Then she deftly pulled her Desert Eagle from it's pouch and pretended to slump like the others. Her actions had gone unnoticed.
"Damn, they realized something was up and Rosario had to gas them already. One of them managed to yank off his mask so he's out too. We'd hoped to reach our rendevous before we had to gas them," the co-pilot said as he surveyed the slumped bodies in the back. "Some of them might wake up before we reach the transfer point."
"Our orders are to kill them if there is any danger of them escaping," The pilot replied. "It'll be safe to open the seal in fifteen minutes. You'll have to go back and cuff them. Just have your pistol ready and nail any of them that move."
"I hate these freaks," the co-pilot grumbled. "I'd rather just kill them all now."
"You know the Colonel wouldn't be happy about that," the pilot replied. "We have our orders. It looks like we have five from the Center as well as our primary target."
"Yeah, I know," the co-pilot grumbled as he released his flight harness and turned in his seat to watch the payload. "I hope the Colonel will give us a bonus for taking out an entire Center squad."
"Yeah, I don't know who sabotaged The Center chopper that was supposed to pick them up but I hope he has the intelligence to take the money and run," the pilot said.
Back at The Center, as soon as Brose keyed the emergency frequency, they scrambled. No one had been aware that the SOS Squad and retrieved teen had left the school. During it's pre-flight check, The Center's Blackhawk that had been assigned to pick up the SOS Squad had a warning light go off. They found a small leak in a hydraulic line and repaired it, but then had to re-check the other connections as a precaution. It was in a location that was regularly serviced so they had assumed it had simply been an error by a member of the ground crew. Rosters would be checked and discipline meted out to the guilty mechanic. Everyone was glad they had discovered the leak before lift-off.
The background noise and conversation those listening in at The Center could hear between the pilot and co-pilot made it clear the squad was airborne in a helicopter, but the pick up chopper hadn't even left. Something was very wrong. Calls were put into the DHS units at the school who informed them the unmarked Blackhawk had landed and left with the retrieval unit.
Obviously someone had learned about the emergency mission and somehow managed to kidnap the unit. No attempts were made to communicate with the team on the emergency frequency. The longer the kidnappers thought they had gotten away with the subterfuge, the better chances the team had of surviving. Within minutes Ms Fine and Max were listening to the recordings of the pilot/co-pilot chatter. Ms Fine immediately locked down The Center and the airfield and began a security sweep to see if anyone was missing. The satellite tracking system easily homed in on the emergency frequency of Brose’s activated communicator thus locating the mystery chopper to followed it’s flight. Now they knew the leak on their Blackhawk had been sabotage.
The incident also highlighted an error in their non-emergency flight procedures. No one had thought to notify Brose of the delayed pick up flight. It also meant someone had leaked details of the last minute mission. Ms Fine began tracking the movements and communications of everyone who had known of the operation.
Rescue/retrieval units were scrambled and airborne in fifteen minutes heading off to rendevous with the mystery helicopter. Unfortunately, they helicopter was heading away from The Center and the rescue crews were four hundred miles away. Fortunately, they were in a jet and could rapidly close the distance if there was enough time.
On the illicit chopper the co-pilot waited twenty minutes just to be safe before he headed into the back. Brose waited patiently as the seal to the cockpit was opened. With his pistol drawn, the co-pilot came through, stepping over the knocked out bodies to retrieve the case containing the cuffs that was next to Rosario. Brose knew she couldn't allow herself to be cuffed and had to do something. Carefully she created a concentrated bubble of the knock-out gas they'd used around the head of the co-pilot. Before he knew what was happening he slumped to the floor.
The pilot heard him collapse and turned to look back. "Damn. Jonesy, wake up, Jonesy! Shit. The freakin' gas didn't dissipate like they told us it would!" The pilot could feel himself becoming woozy. Opening vents in the cockpit and setting the autopilot he quickly resealed the back.
The pilot flew on muttering under his breath about his dilemma.
As she was lying behind the pilot, Brose shifted a bit to make herself a bit more comfortable and to be in a better position to respond. She debated whether to confront the pilot or wait. If the pilot was committed to whatever cause he was aligned with, he might just crash to kill everyone as per his orders.
"SOS to Base," Brose softly called after a few moments of debate. "SOS to Base."
"Base to SOS," crackled back into Brose's ear. "Status."
"Everyone but the pilot and I are out," Brose whispered. "He thinks he's the only one. I can get the drop on him but I think he's a fanatic who would rather crash the chopper than let us go free. Any ideas?"
"We're tracking you and have rescue units airborne," Max said as he took over the com. "Unfortunately they're about three hundred eighty miles away. The longer you’re airborne, the closer our unit will get. At this point we have no good ideas but we're working on it. We're monitoring you and don't want to risk contacting you. We've been receiving everything. Check in every fifteen minutes for updates. If you see a solution, take it. Base out."
Brose made sure her M26 shotgun was handy. Then she slung High's M4A1 over her shoulder and tied his ammo belt down her right leg. Then she settled back to relax as best she could and waited.
Ten minutes later the pilot made a decision. "Grasshopper to Praying Mantis, over."
Brose perked up and listened.
"Praying Mantis to Grasshopper, go ahead."
"We had to put the packages out much earlier than expected," the pilot said. "Rosario and Jones are sleeping. Packages are unsecured. I'd like permission to stop and secure them before they fall off."
"Negative, Grasshopper," the voice came back after a pause. "Packages should be okay unsecured for two hours minimum. We'll have reception when you arrive."
"Roger Praying Mantis, ETA is one and a quarter hours," the pilot replied before he switched off the radio. "Fuckin’ Nazi’s. Damn, I hope they're right about the two hours. If one of them wakes up, I'm toast."
So far the helicopter had been flying in a straight line at a steady rate of speed. Based on the one and a quarter hour ETA and their speed, the crew at The Center was able to pinpoint a small municipal airport as the probable landing site. Using satellite surveillance, they zoomed spy satellites in for a closer look. There were seven SUVs clustered around what appeared to be a C-17 Globemaster III parked just off the end of the runway. Armed guards were seen patrolling the area.
When Brose next checked in, Max was waiting. "Brose, it looks like you're heading for a small airport where you'll be transferred to a jet. So far we've spotted seven guards patrolling the perimeter and at least twenty other people waiting. Assume all are armed and dangerous. We can not get anyone there in time for your landing. The best we'll do is get troops there fifteen minutes after you land. They'll be coming in hot on the runway. Do what you can. We've scrambled air force fighters to intercept the jet if it gets off the ground. We will not let it get away."
"Understood," Brose replied knowing the jet would be shot down. "I'll do what I can. They used xenon as a knock out gas. Any suggestions on what gases I could create to wake everyone up?"
"We'll check," Max answered. "Out."
Brose anxiously waited and checked in every fifteen minutes.
"Grasshopper to Praying Mantis, over," the pilot spoke.
"Praying Mantis to Grasshopper, go ahead," a voice replied.
"ETA in five minutes. Packages still in place," the pilot stated.
"We're ready, Grasshopper. Come on in," The voice answered.
"Roger that," the pilot stated.
"SOS to Base, over," Brose called realizing her next check in was due after they'd be on the ground. "Any advice?"
"Negative, SOS, no antidote found," Max replied. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Brose sighed. "But I prefer to make my own luck. I'm going to activate the emergency band on Snow so you can track their location. Over and out."
After activating Snow's com, Brose moved slowly to the fallen bad guys. She cuffed them together, Rosario's right wrist to Jones' left ankle. Then Jones' right wrist to Rosario's left ankle. Then she handcuffed their left hands together. They were effectively immobilized.
Brose pulled the gunbelt off Shadow and strapped the two nine millimeters about her waist. Then she pulled the M4A1 ammo belt off Loose and tied it down her left leg. Lastly, after adding as many grenades as she could hang on herself, she picked up the other two M4A1s.
By that time the chopper had reached it's destination and was circling to land. Kneeling behind the pilot, Brose cautiously peered out the windshield. They were landing by a large four engine jet inside a semicircle of SUVs stretching from the tail to wingtip. A quick glance showed armed men aiming at the chopper.
"This is Grasshopper to Praying Mantis," the nervous pilot called out. "Tell your men to make sure their safeties are on."
The nose of the chopper was facing the jet and when they were about fifteen feet off the ground, Brose moved into a crouch and opened up in full automatic mode with both M4A1s. The three front wind screens shattered under the fusillade and the bullets ripped into the left wing of the jet. Brose swung the M4A1s quickly emptying the thirty round magazines in three seconds to punch holes the entire length of the huge wing. The startled pilot panicked thinking the guards on the ground had opened up on him. Pulling back on the throttle he swung the nose about as he tried to take to the sky. As soon as she’d emptied the M4A1s she dropped them, ducked and clung on. Outside the surprised guards opened up on the chopper. Bullets ripped through the shattered windscreens hitting the pilot. The nose of the Blackhawk rose up and away from the jet as the tail dipped and struck the ground. The chopper twisted on it's side and crashed to the ground as the main blades ripped screechingly through SUVs and bodies as the Blackhawk fuselage cartwheeled over them to land on it's side with the armored bottom facing the jet.
As soon as Ms Fine heard the firing begin, she had the DHS notify the local authorities there was a terrorist unit at the airport and a DHS unit had engaged them. They were ordered to stay at least a mile away and block all access roads. The fire department was forbidden to go in if they saw flames. They were also told fighter jets were en route and a unit of commandos was flying in to take out the terrorists. They would allow firefighters in if anything still needed extinguishing but the location was otherwise quarantined until the DHS and FBI released the site. The US Air Force jets that had been dispatched to prevent the jet from escaping would be circling the airfield in plain view of the scrambling locals as soon as they arrived.
Brose was battered by the crash but quickly recovered. Unslinging the third M4A1, she stepped over the dead pilot and ducked out through the shattered windscreen. Bullets were pinging into the bottom of the chopper as she pulled the pin on a flash-bang grenade and threw it towards the jet.
As she did so two mercenaries came around the front of the downed chopper. Brose dove under the still shuddering rotor engine housing and let loose with a burst from the M4A1 cutting both men down. Both managed to fire but their aim was wide. There was a loud explosion and brilliant light as the flash bang went off. Almost instantly there was a loud WHOOOSH followed by a tremendous explosion as the bullet riddled fuel tanks of the jet exploded. The concussion rolled the chopper one hundred eighty degrees to it’s other side leaving Brose exposed on the side towards the exploding jet. Dirt and debris flew everywhere. Brose felt the heat of fire even as large pieces of burning aircraft came crashing back to earth.
Brose had been shielded from the worst of the concussion by the chopper. The mercenaries had not been so lucky. Climbing to her feet she ran toward the jet's nearly severed aft portion as the jet fuel burned furiously, firing at the seven men she saw moving. All stopped moving. A few of the soldiers who had been further away from the blast had only been knocked down. They started firing at Brose as she ran.
At that point the fuel in the right wing exploded. The body of the huge jet absorbed the worst of the concussion and the now completely severed aft section and tail moved towards her as debris and burning fuel once more soared into the sky. Realizing she wouldn't make it to the rear of the jet, Brose dove into a drainage ditch and immediately scurried away from where she went in as bullets ripped along the edge. Pulling a smoke grenade, she tossed it just over the top of the ditch, then crawled upwind away from the smoke. As she hoped, the soldiers spread out firing through the smoke. Sensing where they were Brose popped up and emptied the clip cutting down the five soldiers.
Before the others could respond she was down and crawling back the way she came. The bullets were now ripping the ditch where she had been. With a fresh clip, she again popped up and raked the soldiers, this time dropping three before ducking back down. The remaining soldiers returned fire and ran for cover behind the shattered remains of the SUVs.
Brose could sense the fear and anxiety of the mercenaries as they wondered what the hell had happened. She detected nineteen fighters spread over a front of eighty feet in front of her. If she popped up to shoot, someone might get a lucky shot in. In addition, she could pick up five more mercenaries coming off guarding the perimeter moving into position behind her. She had to get out of the ditch and away from the chopper and her unconscious squad. Also she needed to draw the flanking mercenaries in to keep them together, then maneuver about so their backs would be toward the runway when the rescue units swooped in to land. She needed a diversion, fast.
It was easy to determine the wind direction because of the fire, so she decided to pop stink bombs on those in front of her. Just three feet down wind of each man, she dropped a skunk bomb.
Coughing and hacking the bewildered men tried to scramble away from the almost debilitating stench. Brose sprang from the ditch and sprinted to the burning aft section of the jet where three men had taken cover behind the large ramp that had been left in the lowered position. The M4A1 easily took them out as she approached. Several mercenaries saw her go, but had been too disoriented by the skunk stench to fire. Brose skirted around the wreckage of the aft section, leapt over a puddle of burning fuel, darted through the twisted wreckage of what had been the connecting area of the big top mounted wings to shelter behind the smoldering twenty feet long fairly intact nose that had been blown thirty feet from the fuselage. After reloading she pinpointed the nearest targets. Flipping the M4A1 to semi-auto, she popped around and fired single shots taking out three more mercenaries. Sensing others were drawing beads on her she ducked back as slugs slammed into the nose.
By this time the five who had been trying to flank her from the perimeter had made it to the drainage ditch. Now all the mercenaries were facing the runway. All she had to do was get behind them so they’d turn around. This time Brose popped a huge methane bubble between the burning jet and the mercenaries.
The methane bubble ignited with a tremendous WHOOOSSSHHH into a ball of flame eighty feet across. Two mercenaries caught in the flaming explosion died as they inhaled the fire. Even as the ball ignited, Brose was running back the way she came to the aft section of the jet. Since the mercenaries were flinching away from the fireball, none saw Brose move.
The remaining mercenaries were clearly terrified. They knew about the powers of the emerged. It didn’t take much for them to understand they were dealing with one who was also a skilled soldier and marksman. Several thought about trying to escape but were too terrified to come out of their cover.
Brose checked the mercenaries she’d killed and found a functioning com set. She quickly removed it from the bloody corpse and put it on just in time to hear a man speak.
“Where the hell is he,” the angry gruff man with a German accent demanded.
“We’re not sure, he was behind the cockpit before that last explosion,” a strained voice replied.
“Fools,” a cocky teenage voice also with a German accent sneered. “One kinetic and you can’t fight him. How pathetic.”
Despite the superior attitude Brose felt the speaker’s anger burning, felt it trying to find her. Instantly she knew an emerged was closing in. Peeking out she saw two Hummers bearing down on the holocaust she had created from the direction of the terminal. Each had a gunner standing behind an M60 machine gun on a roof ring mount.
“Wilson,” the gruff voice spoke. “Where are Helm, Merit, and Harman?”
“Dead,” the same strained voice from earlier replied, obviously Wilson. “This son of a bitch is a freaking marksman trained in special ops.”
“Has anyone bothered to check the chopper yet,” the cocky voice asked.
“We haven’t had a chance,” Wilson answered. “This one popped out and all hell’s broken loose. Every time we break cover, he shoots. So far he hasn’t missed.”
“What’s your position?” The gruff man asked.
“We’re scattered amongst the vehicles and the drainage ditch facing the remains of the jet,” Wilson replied.
“Casualties?” Gruff voice asked.
“I’m not sure,” Wilson answered. "The crash and explosions took out a bunch and we haven’t had time to take count. I’d guess over half the men are down.”
“Damn,” the gruff man swore. “Okay, if the bastard is half as good as you think, he’s not behind the nose anymore. Nail the bastard if he tries to come around on your side. We’ll split and circle the jet. Shoot anything that moves.”
Brose knew the M60s could take out the rescue plane as it touched done. She knew she had to disable them and deal with the emerged. To add distraction she popped out another methane bubble. The fireball sent the battered mercenaries to the ground. The Hummers sped up and separated as they tried to envelop the jet and Brose from the rear.
Shielded from the view of those in the Hummers by the smoke of the still burning fuel, Brose hurriedly dragged one of the corpses behind a large piece of debris. Placing it in a prone position she laid the dead man’s weapon facing in the direction the Hummers would be approaching. Then she crawled under the tail ramp and drew her Desert Eagle. Once settled she concentrated on creating a nightmare like mental image of a frightened pyrokinetic hiding behind the piece of debris where she’d placed the body.
The cocky emerged in one of the Hummer easily picked up Brose’s imagined thoughts and as she hoped never probed deeper.
“That piece of debris between the wing and tail, he’s waiting there hoping to ambush us but he’s scared as hell,” the cocky guy spoke. “Fire to pin him down but don’t hit him. I want to take him. I’ll show him what TRUE power is!”
Brose had to struggle to keep the imagined figure in her surface thoughts. She could feel the creepy evil of the emerged as he toyed about the edges of her mind. Brose understood he was a dominator but needed to be much closer to attack. As the Hummers closed in their gunners opened up, raking the area near the planted body.
Hearing the machine guns opening up, the mercenaries jumped from their cover and began cautiously moving towards the jet.
Pinpointing the dominator in the front passenger seat in the Hummer closing in from the right Brose slowly and cooly took aim. As they closed in past the hundred meter mark, Brose had him in her sights. At that moment, her imagined decoy crumbled. Brose pulled the trigger as fast as she could emptying the magazine into the approaching Hummer.
“DAMN,” the cocky voice yelled as he realized he had been duped. “TURN RIGHT! DAMN IT, TURN...”
The exploding windshield and the heavy .50 caliber slugs cut him off mid-word as his head exploded under the impact of two bullets. The startled driver had already yanked the wheel to the right as he was ordered just as the windshield exploded. The turn brought the remaining .50 caliber slugs ripping through the Hummer. Two hit the gunner blowing his guts apart as he stood firing. Another ripped into the right arm of the man feeding ammo to the gunner, passed into and through his chest and blew most of his left arm off as it exited. The last slug obliterated the driver’s head. The turn was so fierce the Hummer rolled over. The gunner’s torso was torn off while his legs and lower abdomen stayed inside.
Brose had not waited to see what happened. As soon as she fired the last bullet, she replaced the ammo clip and turned to the other Hummer.
“Oh fuck,” the gruff man uttered as he saw the carnage happening to the other Hummer. “Get us the hell out of here!”
The driver had seen what happened and in a near state of panic turned to his left.
With cool determination Brose emptied the new clip into the second Hummer aiming for the vulnerable side windows.
The slugs caught the vehicle broadside. The gunner took a through and through gut shot that passed into the ammo handlers chest blowing a massive hole through his aorta. Another slug ripped through the neck of the gruff man severing his spinal cord then blowing a massive hole in the driver’s head. The wheel stayed turned and with no one pressing the accelerator, the Hummer began aimlessly circling.
Not waiting, Brose reloaded and holstered the Desert Eagle as she crawled from beneath the ramp. Pulling the two nine millimeters she turned to face the remaining mercenaries easily pinpointing them by their anxiety as she moved.
The mercenaries had hear the panicked words of the emerged abruptly cut off as heavy caliber gunshots rang out. At nearly the same time the one machine gun fell silent followed by the sounds of a wreck. Then came the voice of their commander cursing and telling his driver to leave as the heavy caliber gunshots once more resounded over the site and the second machine gun stopped firing. To a man they stopped and listened to the eerie silence.
Brose dove out from behind the tail of the jet with both pistols aimed and firing. Four mercenaries were hit before she landed on her stomach. Two more went down before the rest wildly fired back as they dove for cover. Two more went down before they could reach cover.
By the time the remaining mercenaries reached cover and turned to fire at Brose she was gone. Now they were really panicked. The Hummers had been obviously taken out as was their dominator. Then in less than ten seconds their foe had taken out eight of them with single kill shots simultaneously from two pistols and disappeared.
“If you boys want to live, throw out your weapons, place your hands atop your head and walk slowly to the back of the jet,” Brose calmly ordered over their com set as she put full clips into the nine millimeters and holstered them. “If you haven’t figured it out, I’ve taken out the Hummers and everyone inside them. They were easy prey for my .50 caliber Desert Eagle. If you're curious about me, I'm the one who shot down the jet and chopper in New Jersey a few weeks ago... with my Desert Eagle. You've got thirty seconds.”
The remaining mercenaries were even more stunned than before. A girl. They’d been up against a freaking teenage girl! A girl had decimated their unit and obviously taken out the dominator! They had heard rumors of a determined soldier at the Jersey terrorist attack who shot down the jet and chopper with a hand gun. They hadn't believed it... until now.
Brose didn't wait. She maneuvered to the crumbled rear fuselage, climbed on top and pulled out the Desert Eagle. "I know where you are," Brose spoke calmly into their com. "One of you is behind the second SUV from the rear of the jet. Two of you are behind the next SUV. Two SUVs over there are three of you. One is behind the SUV nearest the nose, and one is hunkered down by the jet engine."
One of the three behind the same SUV was clearly scared. "How the hell does she know that?"
"She's one of them freaks," the man beside him said. "If I had my way I'd kill every one of them motherfuckers!"
"Your time is up," Brose said into the com as she took aim at the man who just said he wanted to kill all emerged. Although he was hidden from her sight, with her empath receiving talent she knew exactly where he was. She shifted position a bit so the bullet would miss a support strut in the SUV.
"I'm afraid you won't have the chance to kill any of my people because you're dead," Brose said as she pulled the trigger then scrambled off the fuselage, sprinting to the nose.
The .50 cal slug punched through the body of the SUV with ease and the face of the man who said he wanted to kill all emerged exploded after the heavy .50 cal slug entered the back of his head. The sound of the heavy caliber shot rang in the survivors ears. Three of the mercenaries fired at the spot Brose had been.
"Fuck," the scared guy exclaimed as he looked in horror at the body of his buddy. "She shot through the freakin SUV and blew Mike's friggin head apart! She couldn't even see him! How the hell can we fight her? We're as good as freaking dead!"
"Shut up, Davis," the voice she recognized as Wilson spoke. "She's playing with us like a cat plays with a mouse."
"Meooowwrrr," Brose purred into the com. "You've got thirty seconds to surrender. Purrrrr..."
"That's it, I'm not afraid to die in a firefight, but this is just too fucked up," Davis declared. "I'm surrendering."
"Davis, if you or anyone tries to surrender, I'll kill you myself," Wilson growled. "We signed up with the understanding we could never be taken prisoner. If you're afraid to fight this freak, kill yourself."
Brose was able to pinpoint Wilson who had obviously assumed command. She shifted position to get a shot through the SUV he was hiding behind.
"MMRROWWLLL," Brose growled cat like into the com. "Thirty seconds are up, boys. Say goodbye to Wilson."
Brose fired as she said ‘Wilson’, then sprinted back to the tail section of the plane.
"Fu..." was all Wilson managed to get out before the .50 cal slug blew his head apart after passing through the SUV door that hid him.
"OH HELL NO," Davis exclaimed as he saw Wilson's nearly headless body topple away from the SUV. "That shot came from the nose. The last one came from the tail. This isn't what I signed the fuck up for! I'll fight any man, but not some freaking mutant! I'm done. Listen cat lady, I'm throwing out my weapons and standing up."
Brose watched as he threw his weapons out and stood placing his hands on his head. "Purrrrr," Brose said over the com link. "Good boy. How about the rest of you? Do you want to live?"
When Davis wasn't was gunned down, the others began tossing their weapons and stood with their hands on their heads, nervously looking to the nose of the plane.
"Walk single file to the front of the nose and stop twenty feet from it," Brose ordered over the com.
The men nervously shuffled towards the front of the cockpit forming a single file as they moved. Brose eased out from behind the tail section and followed them, swinging wide to conceal where she'd been As she moved, she felt a niggling of emotion on the edge of her mind but it was too faint to pinpoint. She increased her empath scanning.
As the men reached the point they could see in front of the jet they saw no one. Confused and frightened they nervously looked around but stayed in single file with their hands on top of their heads.
Brose moved silently to fifteen feet behind the last man. Brose spoke loud enough they could clearly hear her voice. "Looking for someone?"
As one the men turned to see Brose with the big Desert Eagle pointed right at them. She was filthy, covered with dust, debris and soot.
"If I was as nasty as you seem to think we emerged are," Brose smiled "I could drop you all with one bullet."
The men blanched.
"Fortunately, I'm not nasty," Brose smiled in deadly earnestness. "Stay where you are. Kneel down facing the runway, then lie forward with your arms extended."
Brose felt the niggling against her empath senses suddenly spike. It was coming from behind her. Instantly she dove sideways with a half reverse twist, firing at the now glaring emotion.
The man had been injured and knocked unconscious during the crash of the chopper and explosion of the jet’s fuel tanks. What Brose had initially felt was his confused return to consciousness. When full cognisance flooded back into his mind, the empathetic spike Brose felt was his lunging for an AK47. The man got off a wild burst before the .50 cal slug slammed between his eyes bursting the rear half of his skull to smithereens.
One of the slugs hit Brose in her left arm, passing straight through without hitting bone. Without stopping from her dive she rolled over and sat up facing her prisoners.
The clearly startled men had witnessed her cat like grace and deadly in mid air aim. They were stunned since what they witnessed was impossible. It had happened so fast they had no time to react. How had she known she faced danger?
"Now I'm pissed off," Brose said as she aimed the big Desert Eagle at them. "You've got five seconds to get down on the ground like I told you or I open fire."
The men were much too intimidated to even contemplate disobeying. Almost as one they dropped to the dirt and assumed the position Brose had ordered.
Brose carefully laid the Desert Eagle on her lap and pulled one of the nine millimeters and laid it by the .50 cal. While she could handle the big .50 cal one handed, now wounded, her aim might be off. The nine millimeter would be better for her current situation. Pulling out her first aid kit, she pulled out some gauze and stuffed it in the exit wound, then did the same with the entrance wound. While not a great patch job, it would suffice until the relief showed up.
The prisoners watched in awe as she unemotionally tended to her wound. They understood they had faced an emerged killing machine and the battle had been lost from the first shot.
Brose went to key her own com unit and realized she'd never turned it off. "Base, this is SOS," Brose spoke. "Have you been monitoring me?"
"Yes, SOS," Max replied. "Rescue is inbound now and should be coming into sight."
Brose looked out over the far end of the runway and saw the speck that was the plane getting closer and lower. "I have the end of the runway secured with prisoners. There may be hostiles in the hanger area. Two Hummers attacked from there earlier. I'll need mop up coverage here as I've been unable to check on wounded. The last exchange was with one who regained consciousness. I took a through and through on my left arm. I have no idea how my squad is doing. The chopper crashed on it's side which bounced everyone on top of each other. I didn't have time to check. As soon as I exited I was engaged. Then the fuel tanks on the jet went off and rolled the chopper over. As you've heard I've been quite busy since then. Does the inbound know my status?"
"Roger that, SOS," Captain Johnson spoke up. "We've been monitoring you. My unit will be down in about two minutes. I'll send the medics to check on you and your squad as well as mop up units."
The prisoners heard the conversation as Brose had not turned off their com link. They raised their heads to look down the runway as the sound of screeching tires echoed across the runway followed promptly by the whine of jet engines going to full aft thrust. The transport jet had not even stopped when doors popped open and armed soldiers stood ready to deploy. As soon as the craft shuddered to a halt men began pouring out. Forming up as they ran, four squads headed for the hangers and terminal. One squad fanned out back down the runway and another to the opposite side of the airfield from the terminal. Two squads headed for Brose. Once the initial troops deployed, ladders were put in place and more troops emerged. Several took up post around the jet, the rest headed towards Brose.
As the two squads reached Brose, two men from one were dropped off to take over the prisoners as the others headed out to the Hummers, the one still going in lazy circles. The other squad spread out and began checking the bodies for wounded or any playing dead. When the rest of the people arrived, Captain Johnson pointed medics to the upturned Blackhawk. He and one medic came to Brose. Three soldiers accompanied the medics to the chopper while three took up positions around the Captain and Brose.
Five minutes later the team that went to the SUVs reported eight dead, no wounded and a few cut in two. The team to the chopper reported Michael and the SOS team were still unconscious but were showing signs of coming out of it. No one seemed to have suffered any major injuries in the crash. They were in the process of removing them from the wreck and laying them out on the ground to monitor their awakening. The co-pilot and crew chief were still unconscious and cuffed together. It was decided to let them inside with a guard keeping an eye on them until they awoke. The wreck site mop-up crew found three mercenaries who had been severely injured in the crash and explosion but were still alive.
The units at the terminal and hangers engaged in a short fire-fight taking out five mercenaries and freeing eight airport employees who had been taken prisoner.
Four bodies were found in the wreckage of the jet, killed by the explosion. Six mercenaries had been killed by the chopper crash, nine others by the wing explosion either by concussion or being struck by debris.
The tally was twenty killed in crash and jet explosion including the chopper pilot. Brose killed thirty nine in the fire fight, toasted two more inside a fireball, and captured eight including the chopper co-pilot and crew chief. The rescue units killed five at the terminal and found three unconscious injured from crash.
Of the seventy four mercenaries in the mission, Brose was directly responsible for fifty eight fatalities and eleven prisoners.
The SOS Squad and Michael slowly regained their senses. Seeing the friendly faces of the rescue unit made the squad feel better. The wreckage of the jet, helicopter, and SUVs was enough to realize there had been a hellacious fight. Seeing Brose sitting by them with her arm in a sling let them know she had done her thing again. Michael looked about and then at Brose noting her blood stained uniform.
Brose gave them a rundown on the their gassing in the chopper and the battle. She calmly described her actions but didn't give any numbers.
Michael was amazed. "How many did you face?"
"There were seventy four enemy," Brose said. "I captured eight and three were injured in the crash and found unconscious. The rescue units took out five over at the terminal."
Michael did the math. "What about the other fifty eight?"
Brose bit her lips and lowered her head.
"She took them out, son," Sgt. McNeil said softly. "She doesn't like killing, but she's deadly. Don't ever get Brose pissed off."
In awe Michael looked over at Brose and saw tears rolling down her cheeks. Snow and Shadow moved over to her to wrap her from either side in a comforting hug as she began to silently cry.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 4
Because of the carnage at the airport, Captain Johnson decided to keep the locals out and let the fires burn out on their own. The hostage team of the rescue unit consisted of trained medics and counselors, as well as an eraser and an empath. They assumed oversight of the freed hostages. The hostages had seen little as they had been quickly rounded up and that's the way it was to be kept. The empath and eraser made sure of that.
Counselors of the team called each family of the men who had been held prisoner by the terrorists. The counselor explained to the family their loved one was okay and was not being arrested but was being held for questioning and debriefing. They gave the family a DHS phone number they could call if an emergency occurred before their loved one was released. At that point the counselor told the family they would be briefly allowed to speak to their loved one, but no details of the event were to be discussed or the call would be ended. Once the counselor had explained everything, each of the men was allowed to speak with his family to assure them he was indeed unharmed.
The prisoners were secured in the rescue jet. Then Brose and her team boarded with most of the medics and a few guards. With her arm in a sling, Brose sat with her team and chatted away seemingly like any normal teenage girl. Seeing her now and remembering her cool calculating fighting skill, the prisoners had trouble believing this one teenage girl had singlehandedly annihilated their unit. They had been an experienced, well trained, cohesive unit. Most had been under enemy fire. The knowledge that one girl had decimated them chilled them to the bone. Even more bewildering was how she changed once the relief units arrived. During the fight she had been as wily as any of the emerged they'd ever seen and tougher than any man they had ever known. An air of total self-assurance had engulfed her during the fight, not a swaggering, dismissive attitude like most of the emerged they'd met. Their opponent had been one who was utterly confident in her abilities. Once relieved by the soldiers, the hard, efficient killing machine disappeared. In her place was a teenage girl concerned for her friends and team. What really puzzled them was how she had handled being wounded. She reacted as if it was the most common thing to be shot. She made sure they were secured, switched to a more easily handled weapon, and stuffed gauze into the wound to stop the bleeding. No once had she winced or hesitated. It seemed as if she was immune to the pain.
Of course Brose had felt the pain. Stuffing the gauze into the wound had hurt like hell. But she was so pumped up on adrenalin, she was able to power through it virtually unfazed, just as she'd done crawling through the sewers back on the farm. Nothing would be gained by complaining and bemoaning about what had happened. For Brose doing what had to be done was simply the way she lived.
Most of the rescue force would stay on site as security until the clean up units arrived. As they were preparing to take off, several helicopters arrived with investigators. At least one helicopter would remain airborne over the site to keep other aircraft away and to act as aerial surveillance for any journalists who might try to sneak in closer.
*****
When the jet with the SOS Squad, Michael and the prisoners landed at The Center, armed guards were everywhere. The prisoners were whisked away to the lock-up for processing. Brose and crew were taken to the infirmary. Everyone had bumps and bruises from the crash and, except for Brose, headaches from the Zenon. Liz used her Reikikinetic talent to repair the damage the bullet had caused in Brose's arm. Michael was introduced to Dani who explained what was about to happen as she took him to a secure bunker for his metamorphosis.
The SOS Squad was individually debriefed. Then as a unit they listened to the recordings made from Brose's com link. Shadow and Snow again sat by Brose hugging her as she cried. Thankfully, she had learned reliving the events rather than suppressing them was therapeutic. They had all missed lunch and supper but Brose felt the need for the squad to stay together for a late meal. She requested the three soldiers be allowed to join them for a late supper in the student cafeteria.
Because of the lock-down, the entire staff and students had heard of the kidnaping. Few were surprised to learn Brose had taken out the terrorists and saved the squad. The few students in the cafeteria when they arrived respected their need for space and bonding time. The soldiers were delighted with the after hours fare available round the clock for the students. They thanked Brose for inviting them to join in the meal as anything they would have gotten from the soldiers mess would not have been nearly as tasty and the selection quite limited. They quietly discussed what went wrong on the mission and berated themselves for blindly walking into the trap. They all voiced pride in being on the SOS Squad under Brose's well proven combat experience and leadership.
Brose didn't argue about her combat experience but tried to demur about her leadership. They wouldn't hear of it, telling her she'd done a fine job at the school and they had all walked into the trap. Besides, she had saved them. By the time they headed off for some well deserved sack time, their bond as a unit was unbreakable. Everyone slept the sleep of physical and mental exhaustion.
*****
As soon as the kidnaping had begun, Ms. Fine set out to find the traitors who had to have sabotaged the Black Hawk. The in-house traitors were quickly tracked to the ground crew at The Center airfield. As soon as The Center staff had learned of the pending emergence and need to dispatch the SOS Squad, they promptly notified the Airfield commander to scramble the plane for the emergency combat jump. A clerk in the office used a cell phone to contact the mechanic. The mechanic had in turn stepped outside the hanger to call his contact. That call set the terrorists in motion. When the clerk learned the destination, he called the mechanic who passed on the info and received the instructions to sabotage the Blackhawk pick-up unit. Both men had been apprehended as they tried to slip off base during the lock-down.
Of course they initially denied everything, but the empaths quickly revealed their lies. When confronted with the evidence that their treachery had enabled a terrorist unit to destroy a school and kill five students and that as part of a terrorist organization they had forfeited all rights, they knew they were in deep shit. They were given a choice to cooperate fully and spend the rest of their lives in a military prison or to be placed in solitary confinement for the rest of their lives, they confessed all they knew, which wasn’t much. An examination of their cell phones revealed their contact phone number but it was to a pre-paid cell phone that proved untraceable.
*****
Michael underwent his transition the night he was brought in. Fortunately it wasn’t terrible but if not for being confined to a bunker there would have been a great deal of damage. Dani had told him that they had some success of influencing the outcome of the transition if the person going into the second emergence pictured what they wanted to look like and tried to keep that image in their mind as long as possible. It worked for Michael as he focused on the February 8, 2010 cover of Sports Illustrated as he began to transition. Now he was a sixteen year old version of Linsdey Vonn, the world champion skier. The name he chose was Lindsey Kildow, Vonn’s maidenname. Quite naturally, Lindsey was in superb physical condition.
*****
Brose guessed there was more to the ‘Damn Nazis’ the chopper pilot had muttered. She knew enough about the cruel single mindedness of the Nazis to know that stopping them had not been a choice, it had been a necessity. Before emerging, Brose, then Dave, grew up in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania on his aunt and uncle’s farm. They were surrounded by Amish farmers and his guardians deeply respected them for their devotion to their faith. They had a lot of interaction with the Amish, especially after they began the hog manure fertilizer side business. Dave had easily picked up the Pennsylvania Dutch dialect and the Amish enjoyed talking to the intelligent lad. Since they worked the land and only bathed once a week, they didn’t mind the pig stench. When Dave needed a foreign language in school, he signed up for German. There were differences between the Low Dutch of the Amish and the High Dutch of Germany, but the two were quite similar. Dave excelled in German, acing the courses. He could read, write, and speak German fluently. What stayed with him was reading “Mein Kampf” in Greman. Hitler’s rhetoric frightened him.
*****
An ‘anonymous’ source within the DHS later leaked that the terrorists battled and eliminated at the airport were the ones who had bombed the school. The terrorists had planned to bomb several other sites from their temporary base at the airport but the DHS had found out and while they hadn't been able to stop the bombing of the school, they had managed to get it evacuated. Five boys were missing and pieces of bodies had been found in the boys lavatory, the very room the bomb had been planted. They didn't know if any of the boys had been involved or even if all five had been there. It would take DNA testing of the scattered remains to determine who had perished. They would make sure “DNA evidence” of Michael’s body was found among the other four.
The nation was rocked by the this latest terrorist attack coming only weeks after the attack in New Jersey. The number of civilian casualties in all three had been kept low but the size of the terrorist units was scary. So far at least officially, they had not made a firm connection between the two events but it was being investigated. Even scarier was that the unit involved in the day's action was made up of mostly US citizens, fifty eight versus sixteen. Of the seventy four mercenaries, four were Arab Muslims illegally in the country, but there were fifteen American Muslims of Arab heritage. Then there were three Black American Muslims affiliated with the Nation of Islam. Four other Black Americans had Black Panther affiliations. Four were Germans, one French, and One Italian, all with European neo-Nazi affiliations. Then there were four Latino non-citizens and five American Latinos, all with drug cartel connections. The nationality of the Dominator and the Unit Commander could not be determined although both were clearly Aryan. The remaining thirty one were US citizens of White, Black and Latino Heritage.
While The Center, under DHS auspices, held and questioned the two traitors and the eleven prisoners, the FBI was brought in to investigate the off base lives and connections of the two traitors. The FBI turned up no evidence trail although they did see cash deposits equal to their pay checks every pay period. Each cash deposit had been made into their accounts from a different branch of a nationwide bank. The transactions were simple deposits and always below the threshold for setting off alarms. It would take weeks to trace each transaction back and then review the surveillance tapes to see if they could identify the depositor. As well organized as the group was, the depositors were most likely different for each drop.
The prisoners knew little about their organization except they were extremely well paid. Of the US citizens, all were ex-military. They had been recruited by former buddies. To a man all were disillusioned vets who thought the war on terror was contrived. Most were from low economic backgrounds with little hope of achieving the American Dream. For them joining the military had been seen as a way out of their life of poverty. All the prisoners believed the US government had staged the 9/11 attacks as an excuse to attack Iraq and Afghanistan. None of the men, dead or alive, had been able to pick up their private lives or return to meaningful jobs after their discharge. They were well trained experienced soldiers who lost their pre-war lives when they went off to fight, were unable to successfully return to civilian life, felt utterly betrayed by the nation, and desired to get back at ‘the man’. It was a tragic end for men who fought for their nation.
The common theme that developed from the questioning was that all had been recruited as mercenaries without being told who hired them or for what reason. In groups of twelve they had been taken to a mountainous jungle base for training and orientation, given plenty of alcohol, marijuana and women. They trained hard for two weeks getting back their fighters edge, partied hard in their free time and had little sleep. At the end of the two week refresher basic training course, they went on a twenty four hour training mission with little rations. Immediately upon the conclusion of the exercise, they were brought in for a debriefing and evaluation. Alcohol and marijuana were passed out and once they had imbibed, the exhausted strung out men were given amphetamines to keep them awake. In their much diminished mental state, they were easily brainwashed into the unwavering loyalty to the employers and their anti-Semitic goals, infused with the false ideas about US responsibility for 9/11 until they could see nothing else. Their indoctrination and brainwashing was quite similar to the methods used by many fanatical religious cults. Unfortunately, the deluded men had no clues as to where the training base was located or who ran the operation other than they had flown north afterwards.
The Hummers were ex-military but the serial numbers had been removed with plasma cutters. The Blackhawk and the C-17A Globemaster were conglomerate reconstructions of crashed or otherwise damaged planes that had come from numerous sources but had been resurrected in lawless Somalia.
The FBI, CIA, and DHS were searching for the connections between the origin of the aircraft and their flight paths to their final destinations. The concern that large groups of well funded terrorists, many of them US citizens, had struck twice with no warning left the DHS, FBI, and the CIA scared and panicky. The fact that both incidents had used large jets and helicopters on seemingly innocent flight plans also concerned the FAA and the US Air Force. In both cases, it seemed the crew of the jets were simply innocents who hired on to do a short term flying the provided aircraft. The crew filed legitimate flight plans and seemed to be following the listed route. Not much else could be learned as the flight crews died. The helicopters were another matter. Both had been flown by ex-US military personnel who had been involved in the mission. Again it wasn't known if the flight crews were aware of the terrorist bent of the organization but it seemed evident they knew they were engaged in illegal activities.
The mixture of Islamic Terrorists, neo-Nazi fanatics, Black Panther expatriates and now some Hispanics with drug smuggling connections and disaffected Nation of Islam people was scary. In both cases, the prisoners taken had been heavily indoctrinated. Many signs pointed to AZIF. The deceased leader, the colonel, with the German accent had tattoos with AZIF incorporated into the tat in such a way that the casual onlooker would not see the letters. But anyone 'in the know' could easily spot it. The fact the emerged had spoken with a German accent as well was even more incriminating. AZIF was still a mystery group. Someone or some group with deep pockets had managed to bring the diverse elements in the group together. Anti-Semitism and hatred for American Imperialism were the obvious commonalities.
Examining the remains of the C-17A provided a possible clue. There were traces of cocaine and marijuana inside the pallet tie downs and in the floor rollers. Investigators went back to the wreckage of the plane from New Jersey and checking the cargo hold revealed traces of cocaine and marijuana.
Re-examining the flight histories of both craft revealed they had made dozens of flights between Mexico and Canada. Calgary International Airport was the Canadian destination, specifically a hanger in the southwest corner of the airport, about as far from the terminal as was possible yet was within half a mile of the main highways and within blocks of the Deerfield Outlet Mall. There was always traffic in the area so moving illicit contraband would be easy if the vehicles blended into the crowd.
The Mexican Airport was at Tuxtla Gutiérrez, The Tuxtla - Francisco Sarabia - Angel Albino Corzo Airport, elevation one thousand four hundred eighty nine feet above sea level, with a runway eight thousand two hundred two feet long. The flight distance between Tuxtla and Calgary is two thousand four hundred miles. Tuxtla Gutiérrez is located eighty miles north of one border section and eighty miles east of another border section of the Mexican border with Guatemala. Located forty miles east of the pacific ocean and eighty miles south of the Carribean in the mountainous spine that winds through Mexico and Central America, the site is ideal for smuggling contraband and terrorists. From Tuxtla Gutiérrez it was two thousand five hundred miles to Bolivia, another destination both planes visited. The possibility of an illicit narcotics connection seemed quite high.
*****
Security at all Center locations was greatly increased since the mini fiasco during the SOS squad’s mission. Everyone at each Center base and it’s environs was screened by an empath at least once a week. The scans were non-invasive, merely checking for what had been discovered to be a distinctive emotional combination that indicated betrayal. If the indicator was discovered during the brief scan, further investigation was conducted. The weekly tests were mandatory for all. For the non-emerged the tests became a condition of employment. The only flaw in the test was that it picked up any betrayal, even cheating on one’s steady partner. Any such personal betrayal was guaranteed to be kept discreet.
*****
Brose re-examined her combat kit in light of her recent experiences, adding the M4A1 to her normal weapon compliment. The last battle had demonstrated that despite her unerring accuracy with a semi-automatic pistol, under some circumstances a full automatic weapon was needed. She also realized that having smaller pistols available was a good option so she added two SIG Sauer P226 nine millimeters with twenty round magazines to her growing arsenal. Again her uniform and vest were modified to accommodate her new weapons.
Brose had them start with Duluth Trading Company Work Cargo Pants. The pants are made of rugged-yet-soft oil and water repellent Fire Hose cotton canvas. Factory made with eight pockets, the normal two front and two back with two bellowed cargo pockets and double-chap knee pad pockets. In these she could carry enough rations for a week and her med-kit. In addition she had the Pouch Attachment Ladder System (PALS: a grid of webbing invented and patented by United States Army Natick Soldier Research, Development and Engineering Center used to attach smaller equipment onto load bearing platforms, such as vests and backpacks) added to the pants. The pants and rations weighed in at sixteen pounds.
Brose also attached a hydration carrier and bladder with a two and a half liter reservoir with insulated delivery hose to the outside of each leg below the knee. Filled, each weighed seven pounds for fourteen pounds total.
Multiple magazine pouches each holding six - twenty round 9mm magazines were placed above the knee on the outside of each leg. On each thigh just above the knee she hung a pouch with three pockets. The largest pocket held one nine millimeter SIG Sauer P226, the next largest held a twenty round 9mm mag, and the smallest was user's choice. Counting the mags in the pistols, she had sixteen mags with three hundred twenty rounds. The nine millimeter kit weighed twelve pounds.
Then she modified her customized Improved Outer Tactical Vest (IOTV). Fully equipped complete with all its components (soft armor panel inserts, four ballistic plate inserts for front, back and two side plates, collar, and groin protectors) the vest weighed thirty pounds. The functionality of the enhanced side ballistic inserts, which provide coverage under the arms and down the sides of the torso is built-in. There is also a back pad in the lower back area of the vest which is designed to defeat fragmentation impacts to the lower back/kidney areas. The back pad does not provide ballistic protection however. With the E-SAPI plates the vest would protect against armor piercing rounds. The entire armor system was able to be released with the pull of a hidden lanyard. The IOTV is designed to take the weight of the vest off the shoulders and move it to the lower torso. The vest is also equipped with a mesh inner cover that is designed to improve airflow inside of the armor. It also featured a grid of PALS webbing on the front, back and sides for the attachment of modular pouches and accessories.
Attached to the left back of the IOTV was a gun case that easily held the M4A1. Three removable pouches each held nine - thirty round M4 mags inside internal dividers. This gave her twenty seven mags on the outside of the case. The main compartment had padded sides for added protection and Velcro straps securely held the weapon in place. A second inside compartment held twelve mags. The case could also be carried by an adjustable shoulder strap or carry handles. The case could be removed and opened in seconds. Including the mag loaded into the M4A1 she had forty - thirty round mags for one thousand two hundred rounds. This kit weighed thirty two pounds.
A second, slightly longer gun case was mounted on the center back of the IOTV vest, This one held the disassembled M107 .50 caliber semi-automatic sniper rifle in the padded main compartment. The second padded compartment had the regular and night vision scopes as well as five mags. Three pouches on the outside of this case each held two - nine round mags for a total of twelve mags including one in the weapon for a total of one hundred eight rounds. The kit weighed in at a whopping eighty four pounds.
On the right back of the IOTV she carried a shotgun scabbard for the M26. Attached to the scabbard were five pouches each holding two - five shell box mags. With the mag in the shotgun she had eleven mags for fifty five twelve gauge shotgun shells. This kit weighed in at thirty pounds.
On the left front of the IOTV she carried her Desert Eagle. With the two P226s, she decided to leave the conversion kits off and went with the .50 caliber with ten inch barrel. The holster safely held the fifteen inch behemoth along with the laser scope, the night vision scope and the silencer/ muzzle flash suppressor. Nine mag pouches each holding three - seven round magazines were clipped at the belt line beneath the holster from under her left arm to the middle to under her right arm for a total of twenty eight mags including the one in the pistol for one hundred ninety six rounds. This kit weighed twenty pounds.
Three pouches each holding two frag grenades were attached to the top right front of the vest. Two larger pouches each held two grenades, one of flash bangs and the other of smoke. These weighed in at sixteen pounds.
A Modular Integrated Communications Helmet rounded out her protective gear. The MICH weighs three pounds and uses a new, more advanced type of Kevlar to provide increased protection against handgun rounds. A pad system and four-point retention system, similar to the cushions and straps found on bicycle helmets provide greater impact protection and comfort for the wearer. It was fitted with a mounting bracket for an AN/PVS-14 monocular night vision device (MNVD) on the front and fitted with a pair of straps on the rear to keep protective eyewear in place. Cloth helmet covers in varying camouflage patterns were available. The helmet weighed four pounds.
If Brose carried the entire kit with rations stuffed in the pockets of the pants the entire outfit with combat boots weighed a stunning two hundred twenty pounds on her one hundred and thirty pound body. Fortunately, the way everything was designed the weight was equally distributed about her tough lean body with much of the weight resting on her hips, pelvis and lower torso. Since Brose was able to bench press two hundred seventy five pounds, wearing the outfit was easily within her capabilities. To the shock of the outfitters and staff, she was able to run with the full kit. Her speed was cut down, but that only meant she now ran as fast as normal people ran. With her phenomenal endurance she was able to jog for four hours on the track or two hours cross country before needing a break.
*****
Utilizing the apparent dead end information the CIA and FBI deigned to provide to DHS, the infokinetics at The Center began using their talents digging, stepping around firewalls and other obstacles, breaking into computers and other systems without regard for laws but always being careful to leave no trace of their having been there. The relationships and trails they found were astonishing.
After World War II, South America became a crossroad for Nazi fugitives. Some Nazi war criminals sold their intelligence skills. Other Nazis trafficked in narcotics. The two lines often crossed. Powerful local drug lords forged strong ties to South America's military leaders. Right-wing anti-Castro Cubans in Miami eagerly filled the drug void caused by the destruction of the French Connection in the early seventies with heroin from the Golden Triangle of Southeast Asia. During this period, the CIA actively collaborated with right-wing army officers throughout South America to oust left-leaning governments.
In coca-producing Bolivia, Klaus Barbie drew up plans for a putsch that would add that central nation to the region's "stable axis" of right-wing regimes. As the Bolivian coup took shape, European neo-fascist terrorists who had been working with Argentine death squads were recruited. The Bolivian leader of the World Anti-Communist League (WACL), coordinated the arrival of these paramilitary operatives from Argentina and Europe.
While the CIA was encouraging this aggressive anti-communism on one level, DEA field agents were moving against some of the conspirators for drug crimes. In May 1980, the DEA in Miami seized over eight hundred pounds of cocaine base and arrested two top Bolivian. But the bust was double-crossed for geo-political reasons. One suspect was almost immediately released from custody by the Miami U.S. attorney's office while the other defendant saw his bail lowered, letting him flee the United States.
On July 17, 1980 the Cocaine Coup, as it became known, began. Spearheaded by Barbie and his neo-fascist goon squad dubbed Fiances of Death. The masked thugs were not Bolivians; they spoke Spanish with German, French and Italian accents. Their uniforms bore neither national identification nor any markings, although many of them wore Nazi swastika armbands and insignias. The slaughter was fierce. When the putschists stormed the national labor headquarters, they wounded labor leader Marcelo Quiroga and after hours of torture killed him.
It was soon clear that the primary goal of the revolution was the protection and control of Bolivia's cocaine industry. All major drug traffickers in prison were released, after which they joined the neo-Nazis in their rampage. Government buildings were invaded and trafficker files were either carried off or burned. Government employees were tortured and shot, the women tied and repeatedly raped by the paramilitaries and the freed traffickers. The fascists celebrated with swastikas and shouts of Heil Hitler. Col. Arce-Gomez, the stereotypical image of a be-medaled, pot-bellied Latin dictator, grabbed broad powers as Interior Minister. Gen. Luis Garcia Meza was installed as Bolivia's new president.
After the coup, Arce-Gomez went into partnership with big narco-traffickers, including Trafficante's Cuban-American smugglers. Klaus Barbie and his neo-fascists got a new assignment: protecting Bolivia's major cocaine barons and transporting drugs to the border. The paramilitary units conceived by Barbie as a new type of SS sold themselves to the cocaine barons. The attraction of fast money in the cocaine trade was stronger than the idea of a national socialist revolution in Latin America. Bolivia soon became the principal supplier of cocaine base to the then fledgling Colombian cartels, making themselves the main suppliers of cocaine to the United States.
But by late 1981, the obvious cocaine taint was straining U.S.-Bolivian relations. The Cocaine Coup leaders soon found themselves on the run. Arce-Gomez was extradited to Miami and is serving a thirty year sentence. Roberto Suarez got a fifteen year prison sentence. Gen. Garcia Meza is a fugitive from a 30-year sentence. Barbie was returned to France to face a life sentence for war crimes where he died in 1992.
The Center infokinetics discovered the remnants of the Bolivian Cocaine Coup were still in business but well underground. The upshot was that the worlds richest and most powerful far right wing organizations were involved in the narcotics trade. The profits, while making some rich, also financed the goals of the far right wing organizations which were anti-Semitic and anti-socialist. The infokinetics uncovered a lot of circumstantial evidence these groups were connected to AZIF. The election of Obama and his leftist appointees frightened these powerful people. Now, just as had been done in South America, they seemed to be using the 9/11 terrorist threat to force the US citizenry to demand tighter security and reject the leftist/socialist agenda in Washington.
The more they uncovered, the more it appeared AZIF was an independent but lower echelon Latin American neo-Nazi organization. They utilized the neo-Nazis in Europe but never allowed them inside the top level of the organization. AZIF didn’t hide their affiliation with Islamic extremists, disaffected Black Panthers, the Nation of Islam and other groups bent on crushing the dominance of the Zionist inspired US. AZIF was the umbrella group coordinating the attacks, leaving a sketchy evidence trail away from the top tier.
Whoever was running AZIF had pulled together diverse interests. They had also discovered the emerged. Obviously they were seeking out the emerged to add to their budding neo-Nazi army. These would be true supermen and with brainwashing and indoctrination, could form the core of a new and more powerful SS. A neo-Nazi SS built around a core of Aryan emerged could be extremely dangerous. Dominators could even be used in brainwashing recruits. The emerged killed in the two terrorists attack had been very Aryan.
The flights of the two downed AZIF aircraft had already revealed they had previously landed in various parts of the US. The infokinetics discovered that within twenty four hours of each landing and near that area, a sixteen year old teenager whose mother had died in childbirth went missing. Reviewing recent teenage John/Jane Doe deaths across the nation that coincided with the numerous landings revealed the victims were of non-Aryan race. It appeared as if AZIF was waiting for the emerged to emerge, then either kill them or kidnap them depending upon whether they changed into suitable Aryan stock.
Of course, to accomplish their missions, AZIF seemed to have no issues with utilizing non-Aryans as cannon fodder. In fact, close to seventy five percent of those killed in the two incidents were non-Aryan with a third of those being Islamic. There were black ex-military who had converted to Islam in prison. Malcom X’s teachings to The Nation of Islam about hating Whites and Jews easily drew them in. So in addition to alienated Black Panthers there were disaffected Nation of Islam members. The leadership of the attacks were entirely Aryan. To the world it appeared the two attacks were Islamic inspired terror attacks using disenchanted US ex-military mercenaries. The neo-Nazis involved came from radical groups in Europe, mostly German. Not surprisingly, it appeared a lot of the CIA provided information was misleading or false. Since they had been involved in the Cocaine Coup and it's aftermath, perhaps they were protecting their own. By keeping the US and the rest of the world centered on Islamic extremist terrorism, AZIF was able to achieve their results and remain off the public radar. The infokinetics were slowly able to piece the bizarre puzzle together.
During the last years of WWII the Nazis formed a Waffen SS division utilizing the Hitler youth. Strongly indoctrinated into Aryan superiority, they were amongst the fiercest fighters and the last to surrender. Many of those twelve to sixteen year old boys were appalled to lose the war. The Nazi flight to South America included hundreds of these Hitler Youth/Waffen SS troops. Men like Klaus Barbie and Adolf Eichmann were among the adults who coordinated the continued training and indoctrination of these teens into Nazi ideology. They grew up and appeared to lead fairly normal ex-patriot lives, but they kept training and in turn indoctrinated and trained their children and grandchildren in the Nazi ways. It appeared that the children of the former Hitler Youth had formed AZIF.
*****
A week after Lindsey transitioned, Brendan Quinn and Ailisa Doyle had their first emergence while undergoing their daily evaluation in a lab. Brendan began feeling weird, than the entire room began to vibrate. All he could think of was a mine cave-in, something he’d experienced in the family coal mine. All though it had been a minor roof cave-in, to a twelve year old severely bruised and half buried in rock it had been terrifying Fear gripped him as the room trembled. Almost instantly the room began shaking. The walls, floor and ceiling cracked, wiring threw sparks as it was torn apart, water sprayed from snapped pipes at the sink and the overhead pipes of the sprinkler system broke and water gushed into the room. Ailisa was just as frightened as Brendan. While she hadn’t been hurt by the cave-in, she had helped the family clean out the fallen debris to reach Brendan. Then the fire hose like spray of water from the broken sprinkler system hit her. As she was deluged, blown into the cracked wall and pinned their, it triggered her first emergence. The water seemed to hit an invisible wall and sprayed in all directions.
The entire Center shook and numerous cracks appeared in scattered locations. Alarms went off throughout the complex. Fortunately no one was seriously injured but everyone in The Center was literally shook up. Brendan was a geokinetic while Ailisa was a hydrokinetic. It would take the repair crew three weeks to repair the cracks throughout the facility. The lab as well as the halls and rooms around, above and below had to be rebuilt. Brendan was placed in a sphere mounted on springs and rubber similar to those used to quake-proof skyscrapers.
Unlike other transitioned, the wily cousins had several weeks to discuss what they wanted to attempt to look like. They saw many possibilities in those around them. They tapped into their Irish hertiage and passion for two WWE wrestlers. Brendan became a sixteen year old copy of WWE Diva Michelle McCool. Beautiful, athletic, and supple, she took the name of Giana McGuire. Ailisa emerged as a sixteen year old copy of John Cena. Powerful muscles and chiseled physique, he took the name of River McGuire. They chose the last name in honor of the Molly McGuires.
Unfortunately little was learned from the studied transitions. The data would be reviewed, but there was nothing that stood out.
Since the McGuires had already grown accustomed to the routine and expectations of The Center, they simply slipped into in the Center life in their new bodies. Their talent training went quickly as any preconceived notions that might have limited their ability to master their talents had already been vanquished by their experience with the other students. In fact, they believed anything was possible.
Holding her hand palm out like you would to signal someone to stop, Giana was able to chop her palm into objects creating powerful seismic events. She was able to punch holes through concrete walls. A cement block wall would simply crumble. A six inch thick concrete wall with half inch rebar would have a hole about six feet round. A foot of concrete wall would yield a four foot hole. Two feet thick would be a two foot hole. For thicker walls, it would take repeated blows to punch through. The concrete would pulverize and crumble before each blow. It took her ten blows to go through five feet of concrete creating a cone shaped hole with an opening of about five feet where she started down to a foot round hole where she broke through. It was fairly easy to enlarge the hole to allow passage. She could also create mild earthquakes by striking the ground. Stomping her foot would create a directional wave that could topple trees and fences, crack foundations and walls, and even on soft earth or sand create a wave up to three feet high traveling out about fifty meters.
River learned to move any liquid nearly any way he wanted. Streams could be made to run backwards, standing water could be made to 'splash' in any direction he desired, large quantities up to fifty meters including vertically. Pipes with liquid inside could be made to burst by increasing the liquid pressure at a single point to create a pinhole or a full rupture. Rain could be diverted like an invisible umbrella. Waves on the ocean could be split, neutralized, or created. With practice he could burst the fuel line on a vehicle as it drove nearby, usually igniting the hot engine. Coolant hoses and radiators were other items he could burst. Most unusual was his ability to increase or decrease the pressure of a liquid without it being in a closed container. By concentrating on a cup of water, he could increase the pressure until it boiled or decrease it until it froze.
Both had excellent control of their abilities out to fifty meterss. Between there and two hundred meters their abilities faded into non-existence.
Since both had been raised in the mountains they were already familiar with rifles and pistols. They knew how to hunt and could kill and field dress a deer. They already had great skills in stealth and woodcraft. Like many families in the rural areas of the Pennsylvania coal regions, deer was a staple of their diet. The hunting regulations limited the take, but out of season hunting was not unusual and the game wardens went all out to nail lawbreakers. To get around the tell-tale report of a rifle shot, the Quinn family became excellent archers. River and Giana proved to be marksmen with a thirty two inch parallel limb compound bow. They could hit a bull’s-eye at ninety meters with a compound bow, but that was on a target range where there was plenty of time and no distractions against a stationary target. On the move in a forested environment they could unerringly hit a moving target at fifty meterss.
The McGuire cousins asked to be assigned to the SOS squad. Brose supported their request as their talents could be quite useful. Kris decided to add two more soldiers to the SOS squad along with the McGuire cousins. Pfc. Carlos Molina and Cpl. Kalif Habaz were both decorated Ranger interpreter/translators. When out of uniform Carlos looked like an Hispanic thug while Kalif looked like an Arab extremist. Although natural born US citizens they were third generation immigrants, for both, English was their second language. While quite fluent in English, Carlos spoke with a Spanish accent and Kalif spoke with an Arabic accent. Their loyalty was beyond question and both had served as interpreters for their former units. Both could read and write as well as speak their historic language.
At twelve, the SOS squad was one of the largest The Center would field. The five soldiers meshed well with the seven transitioned. It didn't take long for the two men to realize the scuttlebutt about Brose was not an exaggeration. She was tireless and her marksmanship with any firearm was nearly beyond belief. They also learned she was not a prima donna but appreciated and utilized the skills of her squad.
One of the areas Brose insisted on improving was the hand to hand combat skills of the entire squad. Mixed martial arts as well as hand held weapons were stressed. Ka-Bar knives and the Battle Hawk Tactical Tomahawk became part of their equipment.
*****
As the enlarged SOS squad trained, the infokinetics continued to dig through the layers of deceit and deceptions that was AZIF. It took thinking outside the box to connect the dots. Hitler's minions had stirred up the Arabs against the capitalist nations of the free world during WWII and the Latin American neo-Nazis did the same, fanning the fires of Islamic Jihad against the Christian infidels who raped and pillaged their lands for a thousand years. While they had initially supported Al Qaeda, they quickly abandoned them as soon as they saw the reckless behavior of Bin Laden. They saw, like much of the Arab world, that extremist violence against civilians would mean harsh countermeasures. The Arab nations couldn't publicly disavow Bin Laden because much of the ignorant population sympathized with him. Behind the scene, the Arab nations tried to walk the fence to keep the anti-west sentiments alive without outright violence.
This is where the neo-Nazis used AZIF. They recruited Islamic fighters who were willing to fight and die without blowing themselves up. They also recruited the hot headed impatient neo-Nazis in Europe including some disaffected Irish Republican Army terrorists. Highly trained ex-military mercenaries were also hired who then recruited fellow ex-military who had become alienated from the American Dream. The task of blending these diverse recruits and focusing them on the AZIF goals was monumental.
The children of the ex-patriot Nazis learned from the past and were clever. They saw the way the Jews relentlessly searched for those responsible for the holocaust. They learned to keep a low profile and disguise their Nazi agendas under other banners with often benevolent actions. They kept their Nazi Aryan heritage and bloodline intact and taught their children to do likewise. From birth their children were steeped in Nazi lore and legend playing up the martyrdom of the Third Reich at the hands of the Communists and Zionists. Of course they stressed that the capitalist United States was merely a Zionist puppet who used their power to perpetuate Israel. The neo-Nazis lived in a world of intrigue and secrecy, unflinchingly believing in Aryan racial superiority and using the bastardized races to reach their goal of establishing the Fourth Reich.
Starting in the late nineteen fifties the Latin American based neo-Nazis sent the smartest of the children to universities in the US and Germany. At each school, they set up some type of boarding house where the house-parents could counteract the left wing agenda by supplying an oasis of Nazi ideals in the otherwise liberal campus environment.
The young, secretive and paranoia ridden students who attended universities left trails. Identity photos, course transcripts, and sometimes brushes with the law. The Nazi safe houses were identified. The DHS put the houses under surveillance. The infokinetics continued to mine the education related data. Many of the shadowy leaders of the Fourth Reich were graduates of these universities. Virtually all the students kept their heritage and disdained typical college life. Quite a few of the males sought out attractive Aryan women to marry and draw into the neo-Nazi gene pool. It was quite usual for the seduced women to be impregnated and at least in their seven month when they married. After the birth of the healthy child, they would return to their Bolivian estates. Still, despite having dug through the records and traced the graduates, virtually nothing illicit emerged from their school time or after.
Then the infokinetics hit paydirt. Seventeen years before, seven of the seduced U.S. Aryan women died immediately after childbirth. The bereaved fathers buried their wife with the maternal family, then took the baby and returned to the Bolivian estates that were plotting the rise of the Fourth Reich.
Investigations of the women's deaths revealed all fit the pattern of the tainted water. The neo-Nazis apparently had at least seven emerged raised in their ranks! Circumstantial evidence quickly coalesced to indicate the neo-Nazis had quickly grasped the phenomena of the emerged and set about searching for other Aryan emerged to induct into their cult. Any non-Aryan emerged they eliminated so they wouldn't have to face them. They were building their secret super army centered about the emerged. By inducing terrorism, they were tearing down the status quo. Terrorism coupled with the world-wide economic downturn and the deficit spending by most governments with their looming governmental bankruptcy would prove devastating. Already in the US and European nations there was growing frustration and anger with immigrants who didn't want to adapt to their new home. As the status quo collapsed, the world would be plunged into war, exhausting themselves and making them even more bitter towards those who were different. The neo-Nazis would be able to step forward to crush any and all opposition and reorganize the world under the Fourth Reich.
The scenario was quite chilling. Yet it seemed that AZIF was an up to now secret driving agent of terrorism as well as a dupe in recruiting emerged to the Nazi cause. As the puzzle slowly emerged from the murky shadows, the powers that be knew they had to take the Bolivian neo-Nazis down. The main issue was they were not sure exactly where they were. They assumed there were secret bases in the Bolivian Andes, hardened underground sites that held wealth and weapons. There were dozens of possible locations spread across the wealthy legitimate plantations of the neo-Nazis. There could be more than one base. Satellite surveillance looked at all the possibilities, mapping the traffic flow. Local natives were innocently questioned by field agents during casual conversations.
Agin the compiled data was examined and linked to what they had previously known. As the possible sites were narrowed down, the complexity of the organization became clear. Brainwashing/basic training bases were discovered in the jungles along the Bolivian/Peruvian/Brazilian border. These were quickly revealed to be AZIF bases. Other AZIF bases were found in Mexico and Canada. The Canadian bases were mainly holding ports where strike teams could be dispatched to the US on short notice. That's where the two units Brose fought had come from. Several bases in northern Mexico served as similar dispatch points. Sites in southern Mexico were advanced training bases.
The AZIF sites had to be eliminated, but if one went down, they had no doubts they'd simply open another. They probably had alternate sites already established but placed in mothballs until needed. AZIF was bad, but they were not the head. They were merely the tail that attracted attention drawing the spotlights away from the real goals of the neo-Nazis.
Finally a main site was pinpointed in the foothills of the Bolivian Andes. It was not hidden on an estate but in a nature preserve inside a Bolivian national park. An air strike would have to be followed up by ground forces. Such a military strike would bring world opinion of the US crashing. Attempting to coordinate a military strike with the local government would not work as it would take the locals too long to prepare plus word of the pending strike would leak.
*****
The only viable solution was a covert ground attack. Too large a force would be unwieldy and difficult to insert into Bolivia. Too small a force and it would be too weak to achieve it's goal. The obvious answer seemed to be the SOS squad, but the job was a bit too much for them. They needed to enlarge the unit to have a chance at success. Kris and Colonel Harris discussed the situation and decided the best option would have a unit consisting of ten emerged and ten soldiers. They also decided that the Unit should not be base specific. It should be an independent unit that functioned off the three base grid. The Center Alpha Site would remain their home, but areas would be set aside at the Beta and Gamma Sites for their use if their tasks led them there. To accomplish this, Brose needed a bit more authority to handle such a large unit and to commandeer support from military units outside the DHS contingent.
Brose was a bit nervous when she entered the conference room to find Kris, Max, Dan, Luce, Ms Fine, and Col. Harris there. Nervously she took the indicated seat facing all six across the table.
"Brose, you're not in trouble. We're pleased with your record," Kris began. "However, we are facing a nasty situation and we've all agreed you are the best person to handle it."
With input from the others they explained all the infokinetics had discovered about AZIF and the neo-Nazis. Brose was a bit overwhelmed that she'd twice faced such a large, well trained organization and severely kicked their butt both times.
"We're going to form a strike unit to pro-actively fight this threat and others instead of just reacting to their moves," Ms Fine stated. "We want to use your SOS squad as a starting point to build this unit and we'd like you to be the commander."
Brose was clearly surprised. "How big will the unit be?"
"We figure twenty including yourself," Max replied. "Ten emerged and ten soldiers. Are you interested?"
"Yes, with some requests," Brose said. "First, it will be an all volunteer unit. Second, I get final say in selecting the members."
"Agreed," Kris smiled. "We'd been expecting that. Effective immediately, the SOS squad is disbanded. You'll need to tell them tonight the SOS is disbanded. Then you can tell them you're forming an all volunteer first strike combat unit. If you want all of them in the new outfit, tell them. If they agree, they'll be placed in the new unit immediately. Since this to be primarily a combat unit, all emerged in it will become enlisted personal in the Army."
"Yes ma'am," Brose nodded.
"With the increased size of the unit and it's mission," Kris continued. "The unit will be based at the Alpha Site but will have accommodations at the Beta and Gamma Sites. This means the unit will be an independent arm of The Center. You're hereby promoted to Warrant Officer One, WO1. You'll report directly to me but will coordinate your activities with the Base commanders. There will be missions outside the of the US borders."
Brose was surprised by the audacity of the plan yet felt excited at the prospect. Brose was flattered by their trust. She had proven her mettle in combat and had gotten past her PTSD. The fact she disliked killing was in her favor, the fact she killed so efficiently was also in her favor. She clearly understood why the new unit would be a first strike combat unit going on nasty missions. To her it would be like hunting rats. “Thank you for your trust," Brose acknowledged. "Since the new unit doesn't have an official designation, I'd like permission to select an appropriate name."
"Permission granted," Kris replied. "Although we have final approval."
Brose smiled and nodded..
Brose texted the SOS Squad as soon as she left the office asking them to assemble in one of the small work-out rooms in twenty minutes.
"I've just come from a meeting with the brass," Brose began once they'd all arrived. "The bad news is the SOS Squad is immediately disbanded."
The faces of everyone registered their shock as they looked at each other in disbelief.
"The good news is I've been promoted to WO1 and ordered to form a new unit," Brose added before they could get too riled up. "It will be unlike anything The Center has ever done. It will be an independent command made up entirely of volunteers, separate from the Alpha, Beta, and Gamma Sites. I'll be reporting directly to Kris. I'd like all of you to join this new unit."
The smiles on the faces left her know they all wanted to volunteer.
"Before you say yes, you need to know the new unit will be a first strike combat outfit," Brose said. "This means we'll be attacking, not reacting. All emerged who join will become privates in the Army. We will be killing the opposition and they'll be trying to kill us. Some of us may be killed. Some of our missions will be outside of the United States. Simply put, our mission will be to destroy the enemy wherever he may be. Now I don't want an answer now. Think about it, talk it over, then text me by 0700 hours with your intent to or not to volunteer. Nothing will be held against you if you decide not to join me. This meeting is over. I'm leaving, you're welcome to stay and talk this over."
They stayed for about half an hour. The soldiers stated emphatically they were going to join Brose. They also fielded questions about how it felt to kill and to see buddies wounded or killed. They all understood the seriousness of joining Brose. The McGuire cousins and the Quads had to discuss the matter further in private.
By 0700 Brose had eleven volunteers.
When the regular military contingent was asked for volunteers to join the new unit, three times more than required signed up. Brose sat down with Sgt. McNeil and Captain Johnson, who had led the relief unit during the last mission, to sort through the candidates. They wanted people who could bring additional expertise to the unit.
First, Sgt. McNeil was promoted to Master Sergeant. They finally settled on five soldiers. Cpl. Jordan Michael was a Ranger Pathfinder. Cpl. Janet Hills was a Ranger Mountain Warfare Specialist. Sgt. Dwayne Lincoln was a Special Forces Engineer. Pfc. Mandy Patterson was a Ranger Small Weapons Specialist. Sgt. Kevin Hoyle was a Special Forces Weapons Specialist.
Brose, in consultation with , Max, and Luce, discussed what skills would add to and compliment the new unit. A level three empath, aerokinetic, and electrokinetic were the skills they decided to add to the unit. After that, Brose reviewed the records and psychological tests of the possible candidates. Quite a few were eliminated since Brose felt they couldn't handle the pressure or fighting. All her final candidates had been out on missions. Then she flew to the other sites to observe the candidates and if they looked suitable finally talk to them. Everything was done discreetly so no one would be intimidated or offended. In the end Brose made her selections.
Brose's exploits had made the rounds of all the emerged in The Center system. When she appeared sporting her new uniform and insignia, it was clear to everyone she was serious. They had little doubt what they heard about Brose was true and not exaggeration.
Tricia Dallas was a third level electrokinetic. Emilio Kirk, or as he preferred to be called, Emo, was a third level projecting empath. Windsor Sky, or as he preferred to be called, Windy, was a third level aerokinetic. All had been involved in messy pick-ups so they had seen death. All had small arms experience and basic hand to hand combat training.
Upon returning to the Alpha Site, Brose met with and Ms Fine, Max and Kris to report her selections and have them transferred to the new unit. Brose also presented the new name she'd selected for the unit. "I'd like to call us BATTLE UNIT, TACTICAL, KEY INTERDICTION, KWIK RESOLUTION."
"Well, the name certainly covers all the bases," Ms Fine said. "But don't you think it's a bit unwieldy?
"Certainly," Brose agreed with a cat who ate the bird grin. "But the acronym is perfect if we spell quick K-W-I-K. What we'd have is B-U-T-K-I-K-R... BUTT KICKER."
It took a lot of self control for Ms Fine to keep her austere composure but the others just laughed. The new name was approved.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 5
As soon as the Butt Kickers arrived at the Center, Brose called them together for a meet, greet, and eat. A corner of the school cafeteria had been set aside for them so they could avail themselves of the supper selections. Since everyone knew Brose, she waited at the pushed together tables until everyone was seated. At that point she had them stand one by one as she introduced each person with a brief background, mission experience, and areas of expertise. The only ones who had no mission experience were the McGuires, but they had plenty of hunting experience and had received a lot of training since their arrival. After the introductions, they went en-masse to the serving line. The serving staff had been forewarned and Brose told everyone they could eat to their heart's content since the next day would be one of orientation and being fitted for gear. The conversation was light and the food good. Everyone got to know their fellow unit members.
"Our official name is BATTLE UNIT, TACTICAL, KEY INTERDICTION, KWIK RESOLUTION," Brose explained as she grew serious after everyone had finished eating as the general conversation dwindled. "That sounds a bit wordy until you spell Kwik K-W-I-K. Then our acronym becomes B-U-T-K-I-K-R. People, we ARE officially the BUTT KICKERS!"
That had them all laughing.
Once they settled down Brose went on. "We will be the Center's primary strike force. It's quite likely we'll be sent out of country for covert operations to take out terrorist bases. Our primary mission is to destroy the enemy wherever they are found. The use of extreme prejudice will be in effect at all times unless specific restrictions are given. We'll ask for no quarter but will take prisoners if they surrender. I've selected a theme song for us."
Msg. McNeil pushed the play button on the boombox. They all recognized the tune and smiled when Toby Keith's familiar drawl began. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NynbLtRLisg)
"American girls and American guys, will always stand up and salute.
We'll always recognize, when we see ol' glory flying,
There's a lot of men dead,
So we can sleep in peace at night when we lay down our heads.
My daddy served in the army where he lost his right eye,
But he flew a flag out in our yard 'til the day that he died.
He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me.
To grow up and live happy in the land of the free."
"Now this nation that I love is fallin' under attack.
A mighty sucker-punch came flying in from somewhere in the back.
Soon as we could see clearly through our big black eye,
Man, we lit up your world like the fourth of July."
"Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list,
And the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist.
And the eagle will fly and it's gonna be hell,
When you hear Mother Freedom start ringing her bell.
And it'll feel like the whole wide world is raining down on you.
Ah, brought to you, courtesy of the red, white and blue."
"Oh, justice will be served and the battle will rage:
This big dog will fight when you rattle his cage.
An' you'll be sorry that you messed with the U.S. of A.
'Cos we'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way."
"Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list,
And the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist.
And the eagle will fly and it's gonna be hell,
When you hear Mother Freedom start ringing her bell.
And it'll feel like the whole wide world is raining down on you.
Ah, brought to you, courtesy of the red, white and blue."
"Oh, oh.
Of the red, white and blue.
Oh, hey, oh.
Of my Red, White and Blue."
They all laughed and applauded.
"I hope you feel like I do. 'Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue' says it all," Brose smiled then quoted the song. "Oh, justice will be served and the battle will rage: This big dog will fight when you rattle his cage. An' you'll be sorry that you messed with the U.S. of A., 'Cos we'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way... We're going to be the boot in the terrorist's ass. We are the BUTT KICKERS!"
The entire group applauded, stood, whistled, whooped and cheered. The BUTT KICKERS had arrived! The others in the cafeteria stopped what they were doing when the tape had began and all heard Brose's declaration that they were the butt kickers. None of them doubted the veracity of their name.
The next day they met at the armory. Brose was already there in her full combat kit. Everyone was stunned by the arsenal she packed.
"This is my kit," Brose began. "Each of you will customize your own kit. Just be aware that you have to carry the kit. What I'm wearing weighs two hundred twenty pounds. I weigh a hundred thirty pounds. I can run with this kit and jog two hours cross country. A lot of my weight is in ammunition for my six weapons. If I shed my sniper rifle, all the ammo goes with it. The same goes for my shotgun and my M4A1. Create your kit with things like that in mind. You don't want to shed a weapon and still carry ammo. By the same token you don't want to shed ammo for a weapon you'll still carry. You also need to think about rations, water, and med kit. The armory staff can advise you. Work together, be free with your opinion and advise. Remember, we want everyone to be efficient and able to do their job. Tomorrow morning we'll assemble at 0600 for a ten mile cross country run in our full kits. After that we'll come back here and make any adjustments that might be needed. Also, you can make kit revisions as we train."
Brose stayed in her full kit as she aided the others. At times she removed a portion and showed what she had placed where and why. Each member of the Butt Kickers selected a range of weapons and kitted themselves always with an eye not only to their personal choice but also to their ability to contribute to the unit. Brose was the only member whose kit weighed more than the person carrying it.
At 0600 the next morning she led the ten mile cross country trek at a jog, with five minute breaks every two miles, impressing the rest of the unit with her strength and stamina. No one fell out.
Then began weeks of unit and individual training. Parkour was an eye opening experience that everyone enjoyed and mastered... until Brose had them do it in full battle kit. While not quite as spry, they did manage to do well and learned their limits, which was the objective Brose wanted. They all mastered HALO jumping and mountaineering. Their combat training was not overlooked. All became expert at hand-to-hand combat, unarmed, knife, tomahawk, and even rocks and tree limbs. They learned to fight dirty, taking out their opponent quickly and silently. In addition to the Ka-Bar combat knife and tomahawk, Brose insisted they all carry a piano wire garrotte. Each trained in every discipline and area of expertise.
*****
The first mission for the Butt Kickers began to take shape. The logistics were a nightmare. There was no way the raid could utilize military transport or even military bases. The State Department could not be involved, nor could the CIA. Plus many at The Center felt they could not be fully trusted. It would be impossible to fly in as the distance to Bolivia was too far for small aircraft and any plane large enough to reach there would need to land at a major airport, thus alerting the Bolivians. To get the unit and it’s equipment in place would be a challenge. Thanks to a recent deal between Bolivia and Peru, a plan began to take shape.
Bolivian President Evo Morales and his Peruvian counterpart, Alan Garcia, signed a deal at the end of October, 2010 giving Bolivia a 99-year lease to four square kilometers of desolate shoreline near Peru's southern port of Ilo. For Bolivia, the deal with Peru was a practical matter with substantial economic implications. It opened the door for Bolivians to have an international port, to the use of the ocean for global trade and for Bolivian products to have better access to global markets. It's not evident what benefits Garcia and Peru will get from the deal with Bolivia. But there is speculation in the region that Garcia is hoping for Morales's support in Peru's continuing dispute with Chile over their maritime borders.
Direct access to the ocean will cut the distance goods have to travel to Asian markets by 40 per cent. Most of those products are natural resources such as zinc, tin and silver, with which Bolivia is well-endowed. But in the future, the new port will have much greater significance when Bolivia starts developing its massive reserves of lithium, the essential metal for modern lightweight batteries used in cars, cellphones, laptop computers and many other electronic gadgets.
Bolivia has what some estimates say is seventy per cent of the world's known reserves of lithium contained in the brine under its great Uyuni salt lake. While foreign investors have been clamoring for a piece of the action, Morales, one of South America's few remaining socialist presidents, insists Bolivia will finance the development itself to ensure the country doesn't just export ore, but also acquires a lithium battery manufacturing industry. Bolivia will invest $700 million, and expects to start producing in 2014 eventually producing 30,000 tons of lithium a year.
It was hoped that once the strike was made against the neo-Nazis, President Morales would be so glad to be rid of the threat the wealthy far right wing group presented that he'd look the other way. Of course that still meant a non-military precision strike by a small elite force... the Butt Kickers!
It was decided that Msg. McNeil would take on the role of a grad student assistant of a university professor of archaeology while the rest of the unit would pose as undergraduate students. Their stated objective was to examine Samaipata and survey the nearby rugged mountainous terrain in the Amboro National Park of Bolivia for evidence of Inca settlements.
The infokinetics searched the Federal prison system for a con-man. They discovered a man who had made and sold fake Inca and pre-Inca relics. James Goldschmidt had posed as a University Professor of Archaeology to convince people he was legit to make the sales. Brose flew to the prison he was being held to speak with him. With his credentials from DHS, he was able to secure an interview. Brose explained about AZIF being behind the two recent terrorists attacks and AZIF's connections to Bolivian neo-Nazis. Pandering to Mr. Goldschmidt's family history... his grandparents had died his parents had survived the Nazi Concentration camps... Brose offered to have Mr Goldschmidt released from prison with his sentence commuted and paid a sizeable sum for his services in stopping the neo-Nazis. Mr. Goldschmidt was quite interested as he had seven more years to serve and wouldn't mind getting back of at the Nazis. Once he accepted the deal, Ms Fine pulled the necessary stings to spring Mr. Goldschmidt into DHS custody.
Setting him up in a secure facility, his assigned handler explained the plan to send in a clandestine team that would not be traceable back to the US. Mr. Goldschmidt would pose as a professor of archaeology leading a group of students to Samaipata to give the group a cover story for being in the Bolivia. Mr. Goldschmidt was to portray an affable white haired bearded older man who spoke with a French accent. Fake PHD credentials were provided. Since Mr. Goldschmidt was conversant in Spanish and in South American Archaeology he was the perfect candidate. They began teaching him to speak with a French accent and reviewing the Archaeology of the Inca and pre Inca in Peru and Bolivia. Professor Jean Claude Renoir was thus born. The man had to be able to handle any questions from Bolivian authorities about the group. The entire operation would have no official connections to the US.
The infokinetics had to secure credentials from a suitable university in a foreign nation. They settled on the University of British Columbia, UBC's Vancouver Campus. Their Classical, Near Eastern, and Religious Studies (CNERS) department had a strong record in the archaeological field, with members involved in a wide range of archaeological excavations around the world.
The infokinetics broke into the UBC mainframe and copied files from CNERS to use as a formats for their forgeries. Then using the CNERS Department format they created a fake professor, a fake grad student, and fake undergraduate students. For each they created histories that included all past schooling and course work from high school on. They included financial aid and accounts paid histories. Then using the CNERS format they created a fake course in Pre-Inca Archaeology complete with a syllabus that involved field work in the Bolivian Andes. They made sure the class had filled it's quota and all accounts were paid.
Then the infokinetics researched recent expeditions to their chosen site to find out what permits were needed. They selected the University of Arkansas 3D survey at El Fuerte de Samaipata that was conducted over the course of three days in July of 2006. An Optech ILRIS 3D scanner was used to measure and record tens of millions of survey points in a semi- automated fashion across the surface of El Fuerte. The scanner collects data points for surfaces that are within its range and field of view and therefore the scanner must be repositioned at various points around its target.
That expedition was done in collaboration with three Bolivians, Omar Claure CallaẠof the Unidad de Turismo y Cultura de la Prefectura Florida, Richard Alcazar, Arqueologo Residente Centro de Investigaciones Antropologicas y Arqueologicas de Samaipata (CIAAS), and Mario Alvarado Claudio, an Anthropologist and with permits from DINAR (DIRECCION NACIONAL DE ARQUEOLOGIa) and CAIS (CENTRO DE INVESIGACIONES ARQUEOLOGICALS SAMAIPATA) in Santa Cruz, Bolivia. The project was made possible by a grant from the Independent Power Corporation PLC, Prince Consort House, 27-29 Albert Embankment, London, SE1 7TJ, United Kingdom.
Brose led a small team consisting of Sunny, Shadow, Tricia the electrokinetic, Emo Kirk the projecting empath, Msg. McNeil, Cpl. Michael an expert at infiltration, and Pfc. High the techno geek to the Campus of the University of Arkansas where they broke into the offices of the Department of Anthropology in the Old Main building room 330, in Fayetteville, Arkansas. In the records of the department office they found the originals of the permits and scanned them with high resolution scanners to show the smallest details of the official Bolivian stamps and seals as well as taking minute slivers to enable the forgers to duplicate the texture and make-up of the paper if it proved necessary to fake permits.
Once back at The Center, the infokinetics set to work forging identical looking permits with all the appropriate seals and stamps with the names and dates changed to reflect the new expedition. They also forged sponsorship grant documents from the Independent Power Corporation PLC. Once everything was completed. Brose led the same team to the UBC Vancouver campus. They broke into the CNERS offices in the Buchanan Building and planted hard copies of the false records and documents. They also tapped into the department phone system and intranet, installing relays that intercepted all incoming calls and e-mails, broadcasting them to a satellite for transfer to the Beta Site. At the Beta Site they set up a monitoring system and caller ID. The next night Brose's team broke into the main offices of UBC to plant appropriate hard copies in their files.
If the incoming call came from someone The Center mission planners had contacted, the call would be routed to a Center operative. All other calls would be routed through as normal. The screening would take about two seconds and once answered, their would be no noticeable lag. The Center mission planners could also make outgoing calls from the UBC CERNS offices. The same applied to e-mail. This would enable the mission planners to make the trip arrangements 'from' the CERNS offices.
For the first time in his life Goldschmidt felt he had a chance to do something worthwhile. His time in prison had given him the opportunity to realize his life had been wasted. His parents were haunted by their experiences and made sure he knew his heritage. Yet they had made a successful life in the US but had been miserly in their living, donating quite a bit of their money to help fellow holocaust survivors. James had resented this as their largesse had denied him the finer things in life. In college he found he had a flare for acting and an interest in Archaeology. Unfortunately he also liked to party. Needless to say his parents were angry when he flunked out. Ashamed to go home, he began traveling, falling in with a group of pseudo hippie con artists. The rest, as they say, became history.
The project before him would be a wonderful scam, the biggest scam he'd ever undertaken and for a good cause. The payoff would keep him comfortably for the rest of his life. James Goldschmidt put all of himself into the persona of Professor Jean Paul Renoir, a French national with a doctoral degree in South American Archaeology. He read every research paper and thesis he could lay his hands on to increase his knowledge.
When he was ready, Professor Renoir and his grad assistant Glenn Scott(Msg. McNeil) flew to Bolivia to attempt to obtain legitimate permits and documents for the 'expedition'. Before they arrived they had contacted the appropriate Bolivian governmental departments and schools to make appointments with the officials who had signed the permits for the 2006 University of Arkansas expedition.
At the meetings, Prof. Renoir easily schmoozed the officials. Since they didn't want to do any excavation but only surface surveys of the region inside Amboro National Park, there was little problem. They wanted to use El Fuerte at Samaipata as an open classroom, camping just outside Amboro to make the survey trips inside easier.
As an incentive to insure approval, the expedition would be landing at the Peruvian port of Ilo. They would have their supplies pre-packed inside four new Ford F-150 crew cab four by fours with aluminum caps over the cargo area. The trucks had already been solicited from Ford as donations to UBC with the idea they would be left in Bolivia once the 'expedition' was completed to aid the Bolivian preservation efforts. One truck would go to those managing Amboro National Park, another to the Unidad de Turismo y Cultura de la Prefectura Florida, another to DINAR (DIRECCION NACIONAL DE ARQUEOLOGIa) and the last to CAIS (CENTRO DE INVESIGACIONES ARQUEOLOGICALS SAMAIPATA) in Santa Cruz.
Prof. Renoir and his grad student had no problems getting the needed permits and passes. The 'expedition' was officially sanctioned by the Bolivian government and effected agencies. The duo drove from Bolivia to Peru to make arrangements for easy unloading of the trucks in Ilo. By showing the Bolivian permits, they would only have a cursory customs check when they arrived. The permits would also ensure an easy border crossing between Peru and Bolivia.
The Butt Kickers plus three additional soldiers from the Center headed to Vancouver. The three extra soldiers were detailed as guards for the Professor and the trucks. They would also guard the base camp while the team was out on the mission. The Ford trucks were picked up from a Ford dealer in Vancouver by Msg. McNeil and three other soldiers posing as UBC staff. This wasn't a problem as the call that the trucks had arrived came in on the CNERS tapped lines. Taken to an abandoned warehouse, the trucks were modified by the team to hide the weaponry and ammunition the Butt Kickers would need. Then the class 'survey' equipment, actually high tech surveillance equipment with spy satellite access, was loaded along with camping gear and spare clothes and boots. The backs of each truck were thoroughly stuffed without an inch to spare.
A coastal freighter was chartered to haul the trucks and the 'class' to Peru. The ship owner was allowed take on any other cargo he could fit in as long as the trucks and 'class' would be the first off the ship when it arrived in Ilo.
The MV Klassen was a coastal freighter in BC, Canada with a length of two hundred twenty two and a half feet, a width of twenty three point eight feet and a draft of twelve and a third feet when fully loaded. Top speed was twelve knots consuming sixty two gph, at nine knots it consumed forty nine gph, six knots was thirty three gph and three knots was eighteen gph. With a diesel fuel capacity of thirty one thousand seven hundred gallons the ship could travel five hundred fifty one hours at full speed covering a bit over seven thousand six hundred miles. Built in Hamburg Germany in 1961 the twin deck single screw all steel ship with one long hold and tween decks, was originally built and classed DNV Ice Class C. This class notation verifies that the vessel can operate in light ice conditions and thus call into ports which occasionally experience some light first-year ice. The forward region of the ship was strengthened with thicker plates and heavier stiffeners and frames in the defined ice belt region. Two sets of main deck weather tight folding hatch covers were arranged to give access to the forward and aft ends of the tween deck space. The tween deck hatches had lift out panels and hatchway beams accessing the hold. Double bottom tanks are provided for the carriage of fuel, oil and water ballast. Two five ton SWL swinging derricks were fitted on the bow.
With everything in place, the 'students' and their teachers boarded the MV Klassen in Vancouver. Averaging nine knots, the twenty six day ship day trip was spent with Prof. Renoir teaching the students as much about Inca and pre-Inca history and archaeology as he could. The man was well versed in the subject matter and he made it interesting to the class. Not only did the team want to appear knowledgeable, but they actually learned what he was teaching and they yearned for more.
As for Prof. Renoir, he found the team to be interesting and eager students. In truth, he found it difficult to believe the teens were actually part of a crack combat team. Even more difficult for him to believe was that Brose was a WO1 and the unit commander. But he saw her issuing orders and everyone obeyed without question. She also led the group in daily calisthenics and laps around the deck. She clearly had the most stamina amongst the way above average physical conditioned group. Even the sea toughened crew was stunned when she easily benched two hundred and fifty pounds on the foredeck where they stored work-out gear. By the second day, Prof Renoir joined the group in their daily fitness regimen. Of course he couldn’t begin to keep up with them but by the time they arrived in Ilo, he was in the best shaped he’d been since he was twenty five.
*****
Ilo is the southernmost of the three ports which comprise the Peruvian termini of the Interoceanic Highway which is being constructed to link the state of Acre, in the Amazon Basin in Brazil, across the Andes to the Pacific Ocean. With 58,000 inhabitants, it is the largest city in the Moquegua Region and capital of the province of Ilo.
The offloading went fairly quickly as the customs people had been notified of the expedition. They didn’t even try to open the jam-packed backs of the four trucks as they passed through a cursory inspection. The local customs staff figured since they were heading into Bolivia, Peru had nothing to worry about.
They’d landed at eleven and were on the road by three. As they drove out of Ilo, the group followed the Interoceanic Highway eastward. The road was not nearly up to US standards but was better than most in South America. They stopped for the night in the town of Moquegua about sixty miles inland. It had taken them three hours. They’d traveled through the foothills. Armed with rifles and pistols, the three extra soldiers took turns guarding the vehicles as the others slept.
After a light breakfast shortly after dawn they hit the road. The Andes loomed before them. An hour and fifteen miles later they reached the town of Torata in a lush mountain valley. They were now in the majestic Andes Mountains but higher mountains were still ahead. The next hour and ten miles were steadily uphill with multiple switchbacks. Then they emerged on a high ridge and the road traveled onward, down into valleys, up mountains, along ridges, always with towering mountains about them and no towns or villages for six hours and a hundred and fifteen miles until they neared Puno on the Western shore of Lake Titicaca.
After refueling and snacks, they set of southeast along the shores of Lake Titcaca, traveling seventy five mile in three hours on the decent paved two lane road to the twin town of Desaguadero on the Peru/Bolivian Border at the southern end of Lake Titicaca. They spent their last night in Peru there, exhausted by the long drive. Again the three soldiers pulled guard duty.
The group slept in until seven, then ate a leisurely breakfast before joining the queue for the border crossing. This way they missed the morning rush of locals. With their papers in order and all the proper approvals and authorizations, they too were soon on their way with nothing more than an external visual check. About six miles after leaving the Bolivian half of Desaguardo, the paved road dwindled to a gravel track for about fifteen miles as it skirted the southern most shore of Lake Titicaca. When the road again becomes paved, it is Bolivian National Route 3. The group followed BNR 3 thirty miles to the city of Nuestra Senora de La Paz, better known simply as La Paz, the Bolivian capital. Here they stopped to refuel and have lunch. From there they took BNR 1 eighty miles south to the town of Caracollo. The road was good and they made that leg in two hours. From there they picked up BNR 4 heading east for two hours and sixty miles to the town of Cochabamba. BNR 4 ran southeast through the mountains, skirting the southern borders of heavily forested and quite mountainous twin National Parks of Carrasco and Amboro. The one hundred twenty mile trip took four hours, and they reached the village of Samiapata just as night fell. They spent the night under the stars as the three soldiers watched over them..
In the morning they explored the small town of Samaipata, a quiet town of colonial buildings and pleasant weather near the millennial pre-Inca ruins of El Fuerte. Samaipata (in Quechua) means "rest in the hills", and it's located at five thousand four hundred feet above the sea level in the eastern foothills of the Bolivian Andes. Samaipata is seventy five miles from Santa Cruz de la Sierra, the capital of Florida Province and center of German expatriate life in Bolivia. About nine they traveled out to the archaeology site located on the south side of BNR 4.
El Fuerte de Samaipata (Fort Samaipata) is five miles from the center of the town, also known simply as 'El Fuerte', is an archaeological site and UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is not actually a military fortification but it is generally considered a pre-Columbian religious site. Construction began about 800 CE by the Moyocoya and Chanes, a pre-Inca culture of Arawak origin who controlled it until the Guarani briefly conquered it about 1300 CE. Their rule was short as they in turn fell before the Inca in 1350, who built an Inca city near the temple during the Inca expansion to the southeast. Both Incas and Chanes suffered several raids from Guarani warriors that invaded the region from time to time. Eventually, the Guarani warriors conquered the plains and valleys of Santa Cruz and destroyed Samaipata. The Guaranis dominated the region well into the Spanish colonial period. The Spaniards also built a settlement near the temple and there are remains of buildings of typical Arab Andalusian architecture. The Spaniards abandoned the settlement and moved to the nearby valley were the town of Samaipata is currently located. The archeological site at El Fuerte is unique and it encompasses buildings of three different cultures: Chanes, Incas and Spaniards. El Fuerte worked as an administrative, political and ceremonial place for the different cultures of the area. "The Fort" is divided into the Ceremonial and the Administrative areas.
The Ceremonial part is shaped by a large rock of seven hundred twenty two feet by one hundred ninety seven feet, carved with geometric and zoomorphic forms. It's said to be the largest carved stone in the world. Devotion to sacred animals and the study of astronomy are represented in the figures of the rock. The most important feature of El Fuerte seems to be El Cascabel. Two parallel lines point to certain points in the eastern sky. An astronomical curiosity One could have looked along the parallel lines, and watched the parallel rising of planets Venus and Jupiter at sunrise on August 20, 1066 above both lines against the background of constellation Leo. Some archaeologists contend that unusual carvings on the rocks may be from a pre-Inca civilization on this Amazonian slope who were commemorating the flyover of Halley's Comet in March 1066. Due to damage caused by visitors walking on the symbols cut into the rock and by erosion caused by rain, the inner area is cordoned off to prevent more damage. The site is under the care of Stonewatch, which is a non profit society and academy for conservation and documentation of rock art.
Another sector of the ruins consists of different buildings that were used as houses, reservoirs, aqueducts, etc. The archaeologists are often amazed by the use of rock in this monument and its aesthetic balancing the landscape of the place.
There are several interesting features including a sloping ramp, pronounced by pseudo-archaeologist and flying saucer enthusiast Erich von Daniken in his book "Chariots of the Gods" to be a launch platform and landing site for spaceships.
After registering with Stonewatch, the group toured the site and had lunch there. Afterward, they caravanned to the northern side of BNR 4 and onto the dirt roads past farms and estates as they headed into the increasingly rugged mountains. They drove about ten miles to a small open mountaintop plateau at the end of a dirt track. They were at six thousand nine hundred feet above sea level. The slow drive from the coast to get there had allowed their bodies to somewhat acclimate to the altitude. They were only four miles from El Fuerte in a straight line and two and a half miles inside Amboro National Park. They were about twenty five miles from La Cruz, the peak they thought was the secret neo-Nazi base. But that was as the bird flies. On foot through the rugged mountains would probably be closer to thirty miles.
Amboro covers an area of one thousand seven hundred nine square miles, it is protected from human settlements, hunting, mining and deforestation, though problems with all these still exist within the park. Carrasco National Park is northwest and adjacent to Amboro. Located at the "Elbow of the Andes", where the eastern cordillera bends slightly westward from its north course, Amboro lies within three distinct ecosystems, the foothills of the Andes, the northern Chaco, and the Amazon Basin. The peculiar features of the geography of the Amboro park area determine the biological makeup, with a great variety of flora and fauna. The altitude in the park ranges from nine hundred seventy five feet up to eleven thousand five hundred feet above sea level with an annual rainfall ranging between fifty five inches and one hundred sixty inches.
The area is bordered to the north and south by two roads that connect the cities of Cochabamba and Santa Cruz. The southern road, built in the 1950s and once asphalted, was left decaying after the opening of the northern route in the 1980s. Today it has returned to gravel and dirt, limiting traffic and commercial exchange on south side of Amboro National Park. Off of these two roads are a number of secondary gravel ones, allowing access to the more developed parts of the northern and southern Integrated Management Natural Areas or IMNAs. In 1991, the park size was extended without prior consultation of the local population and disregarding legitimate private property rights, a move which triggered serious protests and resistance against the park. A consensus was finally reached with the establishment of two different management categories, indicated on the ground by a so-called "Red Line", a narrow trail that marks the boundary between the National Park and the Integrated Management Natural Zone, effectively a Multiple Use Zone. Local conflicts have since forced a constant redefinition of limits, so the exact boundaries between the two categories are not precisely known.
Small trails and river beds permit pedestrian access to the park, although this is limited by the rough topography. The principal access points to the northern zone are the towns of Buena Vista, Santa Fe, and Yapacani, along the northern Cochabamba-Santa Cruz road. Several dirt tracks lead off from there notably to Espejitos, Saguayá³, La Chonta, Macuá±ucu and to the Yapacani river. In the southern zone, the principal access points are also secondary roads principally departing from the towns of El Torno, Samaipata, Mairana, Pampa Grande, Mataral, and Comarapa which are located on the main highway.
So far, two thousand six hundred fifty nine plant species have been recognized in Amboro National Park. One hundred twenty seven species of mammals have been registered. Among the large mammals are the spectacled bear, the jaguar, puma, ocelot and the giant anteater. The park has one hundred five species of amphibians. The number of bird species observed within the area exceeds eight hundred forty, or more than sixty percent of the country’s total. Finally, one hundred nine species of fish have been identified in the IMNA alone, with a clear dependence on altitude.
Utilizing military grade spy satellite images, they were not only able to see the flora along the route, they were able to see through the trees to the topography underneath. They spent a day unpacking and organizing. The Professor and three guards would stay at the base and monitor the Butt Kickers. Since the ‘class’ was supposedly surveying the mountains in Amboro for ruins, their absence from camp would not be unusual. Bright and early they loaded up their packs and headed out northwest towards La Cruz.
The first portion was downhill. They either traveled under a canopy of trees with little underbrush, seldom seeing the sun except for occasional dappled sunlight or burst forth into a mountain meadow. The two alternated regularly. The first two miles they descended two thousand feet into the valley where a small stream trickled further downhill. After that they followed the meandering course of the stream as it made it’s way towards the Amazon River. They stopped for five minutes every hour and fifteen minutes for lunch. It took them thirteen hours to reach their first night camp. They followed a secondary stream a short distance eastward into a steep secluded valley where it was safe to make a small fire. Everyone was tired but in good spirits. They’d traveled twenty four miles. No one complained about the pace or their loads as they all knew Brose was up near the front with her two hundred twenty pound pack. The unit was divided into four groups of two soldiers and two emerged. Each group took a two hour watch during the night. No one had any trouble sleeping.
In the morning they enjoyed a hot breakfast. It would be their last hot meal until the mission was over. After breaking camp, they continued up the side valley. After about a half mile they took a smaller northern valley heading up. Over the next three hours they traveled three miles climbing up two thousand six hundred feet out of the valley to a mountain ridge. Here they paused and cautiously peered over the ridge. Four and half miles to the northeast was La Cruz. They’d slogged their way nearly across the rugged park coming at La Cruz from the back.
La Cruz was accessed through the IMNA off BNR 7 that ran around the east and northern sides of Amboro. The dirt tracks through the farms, estates, and plantations of the German expatriate Bolivians provided fairly easy access. Where the roads ended, gravel strewn stream beds provided safe and relatively hidden access into the mountains.
From their vantage point, nothing but trees could be seen across a valley five miles long and three miles wide that ended abruptly in steep hills with a narrow canyon pass. The far side of the canyon was quite rugged, soaring up a thousand feet on a slope that at best was at a forty five degree slope. The near side of the canyon was La Cruz. It too soared up a thousand feet but on an average slope of about twenty five degrees. They peered through binoculars and set up electronic scanners to examine La Cruz as well as access the spy satellite for real time views.
Fifteen minutes after starting the scan, Cpl. Michael, the Ranger Pathfinder led a scouting unit consisting of Cpl. Hills, the Mountain Warfare Specialist, along with three of the quads, Emo, the empath and Pfc. Molina with Sgt. Hoyle in command. They headed north on the back side of the ridge a further three miles. The selected site, at four thousand one hundred and fifty feet, was atop the highest point on the ridge that formed the backbone of La Cruz but was almost two miles back from the area designated as La Cruz which topped out at three thousand feet. Sunny stayed with the main group and communicated with his siblings. When they reached their comm range, which was greater in the thinner nearly mile high air than their normal ground level range, one quad and a soldier stopped while the others continued. In this way they were able to relay from the forward position back to the main unit without breaking radio silence.
When Michael, Hills, Emo and Snow reached the forward position, they swept the area to make sure it was clear before they set up to began a visual scan. After two hours of scanning the area from their original vantage point, nothing out of the ordinary was seen. The main unit packed up and moved to the forward OP. The position was ideal as it was atop a knob so anyone approaching from any direction had to climb up at least five hundred feet and the nearest higher ground was a half mile behind them. Just behind the top of the knob, they set up their forward camp. As soon as the main unit arrived and relieved them, the scouting unit set out to search the higher ground behind them to make sure it was clear. While Sgt. High set up the electronics,
Sgt. Lincoln, a Special Forces Engineer, set up a defensive perimeter with claymores.
Brose and Pfc. Patterson, the small weapons expert, began to make their way down the ridge towards La Cruz. They stayed on the ridge top under the trees as they slowly made their way downhill. A mile and two hundred fifty feet downslope, a smaller knob rose seventy five feet from the slope. Brose could sense no emotions as they cautiously made their way up the slope.
Near the top they saw cables strung through the trees. Approaching silently, they discovered a path beneath the cables. In the trees were several antennae and small satellite bowls. The cables from the equipment entered a small shack, no more than five feet square with a single padlocked door nestled against the trunk of a large tree. A thick conduit ran from the building downhill alongside the continuing path. Brose and Patterson knew they’d hit paydirt. Cautiously they followed the path downhill. The path followed the gentlest slope northeast from the small knob headed down toward the canyon floor.
A half mile down the path, a drop of two hundred fifty feet, they heard the faint sounds of someone talking... in German. Brose smiled as they were talking about going clubbing in Santa Cruz when their duty tour was over. Slipping off to the east side of the path, they silently made their way down. About two hundred feet onward, they saw two men in what looked like SS uniforms casually standing beside a camouflaged concrete pillbox guarding a turn in the path they’d been following. The pillbox looked out into the canyon below La Cruz, the gun slit aligned towards the east where the stream exited the narrow pass into the foothills below. Cautiously the duo made their way east around La Cruz.
They saw two more pill boxes each five hundred feet apart pointed to the canyon exit. Then the angle of the slope increased. Since it was getting late and rather than risk slipping, they headed back the way they’d come.
Brose led Patterson back silently until they stepped into their camp. They’d slipped past the guards and sensors. Msg. McNeil wasn’t pleased. Brose led him back to show him where they’d slipped through the coverage. The scout unit had found nothing so they had nothing to fear from the back. On their maps Brose located the pillboxes they’d discovered as well as the antennae.
Brose led a small group back to the antennae as the sun set. Brose had no problem picking the padlock on the shack. Sgt. High entered and after a brief examination, dug into his kit and tapped into the cables, snaking a small cable under the wall and up into the tree where he aimed and mounted a small satellite dish to beam out the info gathered. While he worked, others used infrared scanners to pinpoint five bunkers hidden on the opposite side of the valley, also facing the canyon exit.
All the pill boxes and bunkers were built into the mountain sides and covered with rocks, dirt, and plants to shield their heat signature from overhead scanning. It was why the spy satellites had not pinpointed the location. Using the locations the Butt Kickers satellite relayed back to The Center, the intel people were able to identify the here to fore disregarded faint heat discrepancies as what they were. They used the info to find six more bunker sites. Three were close together on the steep eastern slope of La Cruz at the narrowest point of the canyon. The info was relayed back to the Butt Kickers.
The next morning, day three of the mission, Msg. McNeil and Sgt. Lincoln made bombs with remote detonators that would hidden at each bunker and pillbox that night. Each was more than powerful enough to destroy the positions.
Shadow and Windy practiced creating cloud-like shadows and brisk wind to simulate a rustling breeze through the trees and cloud-like darkness. These would be used to mask the efforts of McNeil and Lincoln as they planted the explosives. Emo and Tricia would accompany them along with Cpl. Michael and Pfc. Patterson. Emo could project relaxation to the guards, and if needed panic while the others could strike silently.
Brose and the McGuires headed down into the broad valley south of La Cruz until they reached the stream. Then they followed it into the canyon carefully staying in the shadows and underbrush. By mid-day they were close enough to see the camouflaged entrance of the neo-Nazi base. They were amazed by the steady stream of people and small vehicles moving up and down the canyon to and from the clandestine base. They also spotted about a dozen unmanned fighting positions that could be used to defend the base entrance from upstream or down. Thankfully the neo-Nazis were so cocky the base was safe they hadn’t prepared an emergency exit. Atop the stone encrusted concrete entrance were four intake fans four feet in diameter to ventilate the complex.
Fortunately McNeil made extra bombs and would be able to spike the fighting positions. The quickest route had been calculated to enable the bomb unit to plant all the explosives before sunrise.
The nighttime guards were lackadaisical at best. Shadow, Emo, and Windy had no problems distracting the men while the explosives were planted and concealed right under their noses. The detail returned an hour before sunrise.
The morning of day Three was spent relaxing. They would attack at 0100 that night. They repacked all their remaining equipment and headed out into the broad valley at 1500 hours following the route Brose had mapped the previous day. Brose led the way with her entire kit. They settled down to rest and nap at 1900 hours, only five hundred feet away from the entrance.
Handing off the M107 sniper rifle and M26 shotgun, Brose. Tricia, Michael, and Patterson headed out at 2400 hours to access the ventilation system. McNeil led the rest into the fighting positions opposite the entrance where they hid Brose’s M107 and M26 plus their other temporarily unneeded equipment. Cpl. Habaz, Sgt. Lincoln, Pfc. Loose and Sgt. High would stay there providing covering fire while the rest attacked. Lincoln would have the detonators for the pillboxes and bunkers, each could be blown individually or as groups. At 2420 hours Michael stepped out of the darkness to grab one of the guards, almost instantly cutting his throat. With a silencer on a P226, Brose took out the second guard by the ventilation system as he went to investigate where his comrade had gone. Standing by the door into the ventilation control room, Brose detected two operators inside. After signaling she was going in, Brose stepped inside and plugged both in the head before they could even turn their heads.
After a quick scan of the control panel, which was labeled in German she easily understood, Bose closed all vents inside the complex except those into the dormitories, computer room, and command centers. It was 2430 hours when inside the duct work she created Xenon gas which the fans blew into those areas putting everyone into a deep sleep for the next two hours. While she waited she took photos of the ventilation diagram of the base. It showed all levels, areas, and rooms. Brose sent the photos out to High who relayed them to The Center for quick translation of the labels. At 2435 hours Brose closed the vents to the dorm and command areas and opened the others to keep fresh air circulating inside the base. At 2445 hours she opened the vents in the dormitories and command center to vent the Xenon to make it safe for the Butt Kickers to enter. While she was doing this, Michael and Patterson were rigging the doors and control equipment with explosives. If anyone entered the control room once they’d exited, it would all blow. At 2450 hours High received the base diagrams Brose had photoed with English translations below the German. A minute later the diagrams were on everyone’s comm.
By 2450 hours the main assault group were within a few steps of the base entrance. At 0100 hours, Msg. McNeil signaled Snow. Boosted by her siblings, she sent a blast of minus one hundred degree C air into the entrance. The air passages and lungs of the guards froze, instantly killing them. After waiting a minute for the chill to dissipate, the rest charged in the door past the dead flash frozen SS guards.
Brose and her squad entered the door into the facility from the ventilation room into the service corridors. Brose led her squad to the Command Center. Peering in through the windows, she could see the skeleton crew passed out. As they were all adults, they didn’t have to worry about any emerged. Within moments the command center was secured and the unconscious crew disarmed and restrained.
Msg. McNeil made it to the motor pool before they ran into anyone. The startled workers were easily overcome, except for two who managed to duck out a side door. A loud claxon began sounding within moments.
Back in the command center, lights went on all over the comm boards as various staff called in for instructions. Brose located the alarm and shut it down, but the warning had gone out. Brose stepped to the communication console and flipped the switch labeled for base wide communication. Speaking into the microphone she said “Achtung! Abweg falsch. Achtung! Abweg falsch.” (Attention! False Alarm.)
The comm lines from the bunkers lit up. Apparently they wanted clarification. A red telephone in a side office began ringing. “Extreme prejudice,” Brose calmly spoke into her comm unit. “Blow the bunkers, be prepared for counter-attack.”
The Butt Kickers understood they had been discovered. Sgt. Lincoln tapped a few buttons linking all the bunkers to one switch, then flipped that switch. Inside the base they felt the rumble of the simultaneous multiple explosions. Cpl. Habaz and Sgt. Lincoln then rolled an anti-aircraft gun from it’s concealment to defend against a possible helicopter assault as High headed inside the base to link with the others to pillage the computer room.
Brose led her squad to link up with the main unit. Cpl. Michael and Molina took up defensive positions inside the base entrance.
Hills, Hoyle, Windy and Blaze made a bee-line for the dorms. Inside each they checked the unconscious occupants for possible emerged. As they left each room, Blaze ‘welded’ the hinges and locks of the steel doors to their steel frames in the concrete walls.
Sgt. High and River headed to the computer center. River trussed the unconscious techs as High set about breaking into the system and relaying everything he could access to the antennae on the top of the mountain, knowing the relay satellite dish he’d installed would send the data back to The Center.
Msg. McNeil and Patterson headed for the munitions storage. Their mission was to secure and if necessary destroy everything inside.
Brose led Tricia, Sunny, Shadow, Snow, Giana, and Emo into the labs and adjoining prison area. At once she sensed fear ahead of her from four people. Brose signaled the others to stay back as she peeked about a corner. The heavily armed guards outside the locked entrance to the restricted area opened fire as soon as Brose peered around the last corner. Bullets slammed into the concrete walls and tore chunks off the corner of the wall. Brose had ducked back before the fusillade hit. Brose nodded to Sunny. Everyone shielded their eyes as she sent a blinding flash into the hall. The guards screamed as the flash burned their eyes. Brose leapt across the hall landing on the floor with her Desert Eagle firing. The four shots echoed in the enclosed space followed quickly by the sound of crumbling bodies thudding to the floor.
Sensing more guards behind the locked door, Brose was up and running to the entrance before the last body settled to the floor. She jammed the big .50 cal barrel through a firing slot in the steel door and cooly killed the three shocked guards on the other side. She had sensed their location and aimed accordingly. “Clear,” she yelled as she replaced the clip.
The others rounded the corner and headed to Brose. The exploded skulls of the four guards was not a pleasant sight. Brose pointed to an electronic door access box. Tricia fried it. Brose pushed against the door but it wouldn’t budge. Snow hit the latch with a boosted concentrated minus one hundred degree F blast. Giana immediately hammered it with her geokinetic energy. The door opened as the lock and the door about it cracked and crumbled. Brose was through instantly. Four armed lab workers hiding behind lab counters opened fire. Brose hit the floor and fired the Desert Eagle. The four died as the slugs she fired through cabinets unerringly hit their targets.
The rest of her team cautiously followed her, their eyes wide in amazement as they saw the three dead interior guards lying inside the door. They pushed on through the labs. Between Emo and Brose, the seven people hiding inside were easily located. All were armed and not one seemed to want to surrender. The others were glad Brose had no problem eliminating them.
With the labs cleared, they moved onto the adjacent prison area. Fear and anguish assaulted Brose and Emo as soon as they entered. Emo was staggered by the raw primal emotions. Brose had him stay back as she scanned each cell. In the first she found several disfigured people, clearly victims of Nazi experiments. They were chained to steel bunks and cowered when the door opened. Brose signaled Emo to come forward to calm them. Giana found the keys to their chains and released them. Shadow and Sunny ushered them into the labs. When they saw the dead lab workers, they understood they were being rescued.
Most of the other cells rooms held similar human experiments. As the rest of the team helped the prisoners to the labs, Brose rounded the last corner. As soon as she stepped around it, shots rang out. This time she’d been caught off guard. The fear and emotion of the released prisoners had shielded the anxiety of the two guards. The slugs from the assault rifles slammed her into the far wall even as her lightening reflexes returned fire. Ever accurate, the .50 cal slugs slammed the two guards into the wall by another steel door. Both sat slumped on the floor with half inch holes where there noses had been. Their brains dripped from the walls in gory runnels leading from where their exploded skulls had hit the wall and then slid down with their corpses.
Brose gasped for breath as the impact had knocked the wind out of her. Looking down at her Kevlar vest there were seven impacts. No wonder she hurt! A slight burning in her left leg began to make it through her adrenalin high. Checking it out she saw a round hole in the thigh of her cargo pants and a trail of blood flowing down her leg. Checking the back of her leg she realized it wasn’t a through shot. As she tested her leg for weight bearing she felt a pain but no weakness. Cursing herself for her carelessness, she tore open a first aid packet and stuffed gauze into the wound to stop the flow of blood. Then she proceeded to get back to the mission.
As she stood up and approached the last door she wondered if they made Kevlar cargo pants. The door was not locked, but as soon as she opened it, a fireball flew down a flight of steps that were not on the base diagram. There was supposed to be another cell behind the door. Fortunately Brose was able to slam the door closed. The paint blistered off the outside. They’d encountered emerged.
Meanwhile,. McNeil had located the munitions bunker. The guards outside the entrance opened fire. McNeil and Patterson ducked away in time. With a 40mm grenade launcher attached under the barrel of his M4A1, McNeil popped it around the corner and fired. The back blast knocked them to the ground. Reloading, McNeil eased around to see the shattered bodies of the guards. There was a heavy steel vault door at the end of the hall. There was also a smaller personnel door about twenty feet down the hall in a side wall from the big door. Patterson threw a smoke grenade down to the vault door. As soon as it went off, McNeil sprinted down the hall, doing a baseball slide to stop ten feet before the vault door.
Grabbing the bodies of the guards, he dragged them down the hall to a position opposite the personnel door. Hastily he stacked them together by the wall opposite the door, leaving just enough room for him to lie behind them. Sticking the barrel of the grenade launcher between the bodies, he aimed it at the door. After flattening himself behind the bodies, he pulled the trigger.
The blast rolled the bodies on top of him and the noise almost deafened him. Shrapnel pocked the wall above and around him. He had felt shrapnel impacting the bodies he’d used to shield himself.
Patterson had been lying down when the blast occurred. Even before the reverberating sound died he was up and charging the door. Blown off it’s it’s hinges, he paused only long enough to toss a frag grenade inside the room aiming it towards the vaulted door. As soon as it exploded, he was through the door and ran out into the room behind the vault door. As he did so, he dropped to the floor and rolled to face the big door, firing his M4A1 to cut down the three stunned guards.
McNeil recovered enough to join him a moment later although his ears would be ringing for hours. There was no one else inside the massive area. They discovered armories full of weapons and vaults filled floor to ceiling with ammunition and explosives. McNeil and Patterson hid bombs inside the munitions rooms. If they went off, the mountain would go with it.
One thing that puzzled McNeil was the small armored vehicle with what looked like a remotely operated water cannon in a turret on top. He’d seen riot control water cannon vehicles before, but never one that had a refrigeration system built around the pump. It was only when he saw the fire HAZARD warning labels his suspicions were aroused. Checking the base diagrams, he found a huge diesel storage tank. At first he’d assumed the diesel fuel was to operate generators, but as he examined the fuel dispersal lines, he realized most ran out through the entrance and up and down the stream with stand pipes spaced regularly. The vehicle was a wheeled diesel fuel flame thrower! The on-board two hundred gallon fuel tank powered the engine and the flame thrower. Obviously it was to be used to burn off foliage. The foliage not only hid the base, it could hide attackers allowing them to get close enough to do serious damage. The US Marines had developed a flame throwing tank in the 1950s with a range of two hundred eighty yards. This baby could probably exceed that. By driving in the stream bed, they could probably burn off everything within a thousand feet of the stream, denuding the narrow canyon and inhibiting attack. The armored vehicle would simply hook up to the stand pipes and fire jets of diesel fuel. McNeil sent Patterson out to relieve Loose in the outside position. Loose could handle driving the flame thrower out of the base.
High had successfully broken into the computers. There was an outside control link he quickly disabled. But he had learned the intrusion alarm had been sounded and relief was being dispatched. He passed the word as River stood guard. The data continued to flow unchecked to the antennae.
Hills, Hoyle, Windy and Blaze had sealed the dormitories. Even when the soldiers and workers inside awoke, they couldn’t get out. They headed back to the labs and prison area to assist in taking out the emerged Brose had encountered. Hoyle guarded the entrance to the lab/prison area. Hills watched the freed prisoners.
McNeil guided Loose as they drove the flame thrower into the stream. Together, they headed up stream, locating and removing the caps from the stand pipes. Any chopper assault would probably land in the broad valley.
High was watching the satellite coverage. At 0125 hours he spotted a half dozen choppers lift off from the nearest AZIF base and head their way.
Brose reviewed the ventilation diagrams trying to find the vents to the hidden area behind the prison. She had others searching for access panels that might feed the area. The strength of the fire blast indicated a first level pyrokinetic. Judging by the brief glimpse she had of the stairs and speed of the attack, she guessed the steps went up about thirty feet.
Then she felt a mental probe. Brose promptly blocked it. "Get back to the labs," Brose called out. "I just felt a mental probe. Fall back out of range. MOVE!"
Everyone scrambled back to the labs.
Brose stayed in the hall just inside the prison looking down the hall to the corner that led to the secret area. She wanted to make sure no one tried to attack them. She knew she could at least temporarily fend off an attack while the others might not be able to do so. Brose remembered their had been an unoccupied room off to the back of the labs that held a bank of monitors. "Windy, Shadow, in the back of the labs was a room with monitors. See if you can access it. They might have remote cameras in the hidden area we can access. Emo, Hills, take the released prisoners down to Molina."
"Molina, Emo and Hills are bringing down the prisoners we freed," Brose keyed her comm. "We need to get them out of here before we're counter-attacked. Hills will take your place while you and Emo take them down stream about a mile and send them up the side creek that comes in from the north. Tell them to go up at least two hundred meters and stay put. Inform them that those who captured them will be coming up the main stream to attack us. Make sure they understand there will be fighting and they need to stay quiet. Government forces will come for them sometime after noon. Get back as soon as you can. If they hit us before you make it back, stay off the comm and use your initiative. High, what's the ETA on the choppers?"
“It looks like they're heading for the upstream valley," High replied. "ETA at 0150 hours."
"Habaz, use that AA gun to try to shoot down the choppers as they come in," Brose ordered. "McNeil, can you shoot the diesel fuel out of the flame thrower without igniting it?"
"Yeah," McNeil answered as he wondered what she was planning.
"Go upstream as far as the hook-ups allow," Brose said. "Soak everything on both sides of the stream and work your way back down. Do your best to keep the coverage connected. If we can wait until their troops enter the area, we can fry them. If not, the fire will hold them back for a while. Do the same thing down stream."
"Roger that," McNeil chuckled.
"Brose, we have video and audio feed from the mystery area," Windy reported. "Looks like about a half dozen emerged. They're speaking German. One is looking through a partially opened door and it appears as if he's looking down a flight of steps."
"Sunny, Blaze, take over here," Brose said. "I want to see what we're up against."
A few moments later, Brose was checking out the various feeds. There appeared to be ten rooms with heavy steel doors that looked like water tight doors on a ship. Inside four of them were emerged, obviously abused. Brose listened in as the six in a common area outside the cells discussed their options. The one watching the door was a male pyro. Another was an electro as she nervously sent sparks back and forth between her fingertips. By their talk she figured out there was a male dominator and three females, a ghost, an empath, and a damper.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 6
The four emerged girls wanted to hang on and wait for rescue. The pyro wanted to charge down and attack. The dominator restrained him but also insisted they had to come up with a plan to get out on their own. During the brief mind probe he'd sent out to scout the opposition, he briefly touched four minds. That one was able to block him unsettled him. The only one's he'd ever encountered who had been able to block him were the guys who'd been killed on those missions in the US. Even though their talent hadn’t been any stronger than his, their personalities were cocky and overwhelming and they had taken an almost sadistic joy in 'putting him in his place'. That was one reason he was more considerate of those he had to dominate. Being mind raped was not pleasant and built up bitterness and resentment. Obviously there were emerged amongst those attacking. One had to be stronger than him but she had not attempted to attack him. That only added to his growing apprehension. Then there was the fact they had been able to locate and penetrate the secret base! Whatever they did, caution had to be used.
Thanks to the labels on the cameras, Brose was able to identify the controls on the ventilation diagrams that entered the area. "Giana, see if you can locate the area I've indicated on the diagram in the lab area."
Giana checked her comm pad and enlarged the lab diagram. She easily discovered the area. "Got it," she replied.
"From what I can surmise, the wall is false," Brose said. There is a three foot space behind it. The vents and utilities pass from there into a pipe that leads to the hidden area where the emerged are holed up. See if you can punch through the wall into the space."
Giana had no problems breaking through. Brose joined her with Tricia and Snow as they examined the wiring and ducts. They were shocked to see a large canister that could be flooded with compressed air. The canister was marked with skull and crossbones and marked Zyklon B, the poison gas the Nazis used to exterminate the Jews! The canister's exhaust pipe was hooked through an electrical valve to the fresh air feed duct work. There was a flutter valve to close the exhaust duct wired into the same system. The Nazis obviously planned to gas the emerged if they ever got out of control.
Tricia noticed Brose’s wound. “You’ve been wounded,” she stated in obvious surprise.
“I got careless,” Brose answered as if it was nothing more than a scratch. “I plugged it for now. I’ll deal with it later.”
They all knew better than to argue with Brose.
"Snow, if that valve actuates, immediately freeze the pipe behind it and then the tank," Brose ordered. "I'm going to try to talk to them. Windy, Shadow, see if you can break the outside link that's being used to monitor them."
Brose headed back through the prison to the door. Taking a deep breath she knocked. After five seconds she knocked again and opened the door just a crack. As she did she felt the dominator probe her but again she blocked him.
"I want to talk," she said in German. "We're here to free you and stop the terrorism your superiors are promoting through AZIF. I'm in charge of the operation and half of my assault team are emerged. We're the same as you, but we are not forced to do anything we don't want to do. You're in danger from your own people."
"Don't try to play mind games with us," the dominator called back.
"No mind games," Brose replied. "We've been watching and listening to you for the last ten minutes from the lab. But I'm sure the feed is going to another site. How else would I know your names if I hadn’t been watching and listening on monitors? Think about it Franz, Gretchen, Heidi, Brigitta, Elsa, and Erwin. Did you even know you've been continually monitored by the camera's and audio?"
Watching on a video link to her hand held comm she saw the six gasp and look around at the cameras. Anger and betrayal etched their faces.
“Erwin, if you look down at my hand, you’ll see I have a hand comm that my people are streaming from the cameras. I’m watching everything you do,” Brose declared. "They have Zyklon B in a tank hooked up to your vent system. All they have to do is hit a button and you're dead. Tell me, is there a blast door on this staircase?"
"Yes," Fritz replied as he began to understand. All the emerged knew they were mistrusted by their superiors. They were tools. While they had been treated well they had been kept segregated and isolated.
The others looked frightened as they clustered about Fritz.
"Release the prisoners and come down, we won't harm you as long as you don't fight us," Brose called up. "Your keepers can hear everything so you better act fast before they lock you in and gas you. If they do, we'll get you out, so don't fight us when we come in."
They huddled to talk. Seconds later the blast door slammed shut sealing off the staircase. Snow froze the pipe and tank as the valves turned to release the gas. Tricia let Brose know what happened.
"Snow, keep that canister frozen, Tricia, Giana, Blaze, Sunny, come to me," Brose ordered. "We need to break in to get them out.”
The others reached the entry stair to the hidden area in moments. Brose had the steel entry door open and was looking at the steel blast door sealing off the steps about ten feet up.
"Pounding or burning through that door will take too long," Brose said. "If their leadership is as paranoid as I think, they might have some sort of poison sandwiched inside to kill whoever tries to breach it. Blaze, see if you can burn through the steel stair treads about three feet below the door. Giana, when he does, see if you can pulverize the rock behind it to make a tunnel under the door."
Blase had no problem burning through the steel treads as they were only three sixteenths of an inch thick. The concrete that had been poured beneath it cracked and popped due to the intense heat. Giana then pounded the concrete and rock, easily shattering it. The others scrambled up and began scooping the debris away as Giana reset herself for the next blow.
Brose felt a frightened probe from the other side of the door at the same time Shadow spoke. "The dominator is heading down the steps."
"Leave my team alone, come to me," Brose said as she looked at the door.
"How can you block me?" Franz mentally asked with a bit of fear. "No one has ever done that without blasting back at me."
"I'm not sure how I block mind probes," Brose thought back. "I just sense them and shut it off."
"I know," Franz replied with trepidation. "Even now you're just barely letting me in so we can speak. What are you?"
"I'm either one of the best friends you'll ever have or your worst nightmare," Brose replied. "I hate killing, but I'm damn good at it. I'm the one who took out the two big AZIF teams.”
Franz gasped. “You’re the cat?”
“MMRROWWLLL,” Brose replied aloud.
“You took out most of the New Jersey unit and shot down the jet and helicopter. The at the last fight you took out all but five of that team by yourself! They said you were what they wanted! They’ve been trying to come up with a way to snag you,” Franz said knowing he didn’t want to even think about going up against Brose. The dominator she took out the last time was the best they had.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Brose acknowledged. “Look, Franz, we just want to help you and stop all these crazy schemes and terrorism. I had one of my people freeze the Zyklon B when it was released. We’re hoping we can prevent it from getting into the vents.”
“We caught a whiff of it,” Franz said. “It’s nasty shit. We were wondering why we’re still alive. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Brose smiled. “My people are tunneling under the door. Tell the prisoners you’ve been betrayed by your own people and release them. We want to get everyone safely out of here.”
“I don’t mean any offense,” Franz said. “How do we know we can trust you?”
“You know I stopped killing when the men surrendered,” Brose replied. “It would have been simple for me just to wipe them all out. But like I said, I don’t like killing. Besides, if we wanted you dead, we could have let the Zyklon B do it for us.”
“Okay, but if we feel anything bad, we’ll fight,” Franz declared.
“I’m sure you’ll feel a lot of bad,” Brose replied. "There is a chopper relief unit flying in and they should arrive shortly. I’m also pretty sure they have troops moving up the stream. The bad feelings will be coming from them. Even you should know their primary mission will be to take out all emerged. They’ll want you dead now that you know they’ve already tried to kill you, they'll blame your deaths on us.”
“Okay, we’ll release the prisoners and be ready when you break through,” Franz sighed.
“If you need to communicate, just ping me,” Brose said. “If I even suspect you’re messing with my team, you’re all dead.”
“Understood,” Franz agreed. He liked this girl. She scared the shit out of him but was also quite intriguing.
After breaking contact with Franz, Brose contacted Windy and Shadow. “Are they releasing their prisoners?”
“Roger that,” Windy replied.
“Good,” Brose replied. “Keep an eye on them. Let me know if anything looks fishy. Once they start coming out, join us in the front of the lab.”
“Roger,” Shadow answered.
“Brose, if I cut the wires to the solenoid valve on the Zyklon B,” Snow asked over the comm. “And if I hook the wires back up reversed, shouldn’t that shut the valve?”
“I guess,” Brose answered. “Does anyone think otherwise?”
“It should work,“ Loose said.
“I think so too,” High added. “Just make sure the valve isn’t iced. It could break.”
“Chopper ETA in five minutes,” High called out.
“Everyone get ready,” Brose said. “McNeil, how’s it going with the spray?”
“We’re just finishing off upstream,” McNeil replied. “We’ll head down stream until the fighting starts, then we’ll join the defense.”
“Negative,” Brose replied. “Just keep spraying. I’ve got an idea.”
“I think we’ve done all we can here,” High reported. “I’ve got things cued to upload all remaining data on auto feed. River and I will be out front in three minutes.”
“Hoyle, you head out too,” Brose ordered. “River, head downstream and link up with McNeil. McNeil, stop soaking the foliage a thousand feet downstream. Then head downstream to the last stand pipe and wait. Contact Molina and Emo for an ETA. Once they’re close to being back I want River to stop the stream there. Open the last standpipe and let it flow onto the water. Break the valve so it can't be closed. River, when it gets too much to hold back, have Loose ignite the diesel fuel and let it go once it's on fire. We'll let the diesel fuel continue to flow into the stream and burn. That should create a distraction to the upstream assault unit and hinder the downstream assault units. That should give us enough time to deal with the initial attack before we get caught in a vice. McNeil, when Molina and Emo get back, I want Emo to stay with Loose and River while you and Molina join the fight on the far bank from the base. Emo, I want you to scan the down stream side of La Cruz. I think the initial upstream areal assault will send a unit over the top to try to hit us from behind. Don't engage them, fall back before them but keep us posted. When they're well into the area we've soaked, ignite it.”
Tricia helped Brose properly bandage her wound as Giana hammered and the others cleared. Giana finally made it under the blast door and angled up until she hit the underside of the steel steps. Giana was clearly tired. She'd used a lot of energy. As the rest cleared out the last of the debris, Snow joined them. She’d successfully closed the valve with the reversed wiring, then disconnected the wires leaving the solenoid dead in the closed position.
“Franz,” Brose called out.
“Here,” Franz mentally replied.
“We’re under the steps on your side of the blast door,” Brose said. “You can probably see the steps are dented.”
“Yeah,” Franz acknowledged. “What were you using to dig through so fast?”
“Giana,” Brose chuckled. “She’s a geokinetic. She’s been pulverizing the rock and others have been scooping away the debris. I’ve got a pyro who’s going to melt through the steel steps. Then I’ll have a cryo cool it. Stay back while they work. Get some blankets to cover the edges of the steel as it might be sharp. I’ll let you know when it’s safe to come down. If you have any high energy food or snack bars, bring it with you. We need all we can get to replenish Giana and a few of the others.”
“Got it,” Franz replied as they closed the link. He knew how stingy his superiors had been in sending out only one or two emerged at a time on a mission. Counting Brose he now knew of four but there had to be more. She said half her party was emerged. How many were there?
As they watched down the steps they saw the steel start to glow red, than orange, then white before simply melting away sending a shower of sparks in all directions. The intense heat forced them back from the door. Then moments after the heat ceased, they saw ice crystals forming. Loud cracking was heard as the still liquid steel froze and the remaining concrete popped as the rocks and concrete exploded due to the rapid change in temperature. The chill air swept up the steps.
Brose crawled through the tunnel and popped her head through the gapping hole in the steel steps. "I'm glad to meet you, Franz," Brose said as she looked up the steps to Franz. "Let's get everyone out of here." Then she ducked back down.
Franz came through first since the rest were still hesitant. They couldn't understand his willingness to cooperate. Sure they'd been betrayed, but why suddenly trust these people? Their treatment had made them suspicions of everyone.
Franz popped back up the hole to look at his people. “They’re from The Center and the Cat is leading them. Now come on.” He went back down.
The others exchanged looks of surprise. The Center and the Cat. If anyone could get them out safely, it was the Cat
Brose helped each out of the tunnel and greeted them with a hug before directing them to her party. They all saw the Desert Eagle on her chest and understood why Franz was so cooperative This was indeed the Cat.
The four prisoners were introduced, the two girls as Jim and Nathan and the two guys as Janice, and Sheila. They still used their birth names and had been resisting their Germanification. Obviously they were quite wary of what was happening. Each wore a collar with a yellow light blinking.
Just then the staccato firing of an anti-aircraft weapon could be heard.
"The choppers are coming in," Brose calmly said. "We need to get out of here."
*****
Habaz and Lincoln opened up on the rear chopper at 0152 hours. The tracers revealed their accuracy. The chopper sparked as the bullets hit and fire burst from inside. Even though the chopper was two hundred feet up, the soldiers began repelling down the ropes only to have the chopper explode and veer onto it's side as it went down in a fireball. Not waiting, the AA weapon swept on to another target. This unit was trying to drop fast but not fast enough. It too exploded in a fireball and went down in flames. By then the other choppers were down hovering above the tree tops as they disgorged their troops down the rappelling lines. When unloaded, they headed up the valley skimming the tree tops to avoid the AA fire. They continued out of the valley apparently going back for more troops.
Habaz aimed the AA gun upstream prepared to fire the tracers into the diesel fuel soaked landscape.
High and River were jogging back upstream after having sent the released prisoners to their hiding place. The sounds of the firing and explosions told them the fighting had began. McNeil reached the thousand foot limit Brose had established for spraying and stopped. Then they traveled downstream another five hundred feet to the last stand pipe. As High and River approached McNeil, River selected a location on the stream at a place where the banks were twelve feet high and only twenty feet apart. Standing on the bank on the far side, he stopped the water. As the water flow downstream dwindled, Emo and Molina made better time as they scurried through the now dry streambed. By the time they reached McNeil it was 0203 hours. River and Emo stayed with Loose as Molina and McNeil headed back to take up positions.
*****
"We can’t leave yet," Franz said in clear English. "We need to remove their collars. If they leave the labs, their heads will blow off."
"Damn," Brose said. "Do you know how to get them off?"
"No," Franz said. “But if you try to cut them or short them, they blow."
Brose thought for a moment. "Snow, do you think you can super freeze just the little box?"
Snow checked out the box. "There should be a battery in the box. If I freeze it, it should give us enough time to get the collar off and throw it away from us."
"Try it on me," Jim spoke up. "After all I've been through, I'm not afraid to die. At least I'll die free."
Everyone cleared back. A quick search revealed an asbestos pad which they slipped under the box on the collar. They had Jim sit in a chair, then turned the collar so the box was in back. after inserting the asbestos pad, Franz slipped his fingers under the collar at the front. When they were ready, absolutely everyone held their breath. Snow super froze the box. With the tension Franz was creating in the front, the collar snapped. Franz whipped it off and threw it to the back of the lab where it blew apart in the air.
In ten minutes, the others were freed from the collars. As a group, they headed out of the labs. The ten freed emerged saw the bloodied remains of the guards. They knew the Cat had taken them out. Any lingering thoughts of trying to fight her vanished.
*****
The AZIF troops were shocked to have lost two choppers and nearly a third of it's force. Only one man survived out of the first chopper downed, three out of the second. They'd lost twenty one men out of their seventy two before firing a shot. They also lost the unit commander who had been in the rear chopper and the second in command who'd been in the other downed chopper. They were demoralized and it took a good fifteen minutes for them to regroup and receive instructions from their base. The burning helicopters created an eerie back light to the dark night. Without any officers, the lead sergeant took command. He was ordered to follow the original plan. Splitting into four teams, three of twelve men and one of fifteen. A twelve man unit would advance downstream hugging the sides of the stream. Another would cross the stream form up in skirmish line and move downstream in the foliage trying to stay in line with the unit in the stream. Another unit would do the same on the near side of the stream. The fifteen man unit would cross La Cruz and come in from the other side. They set out at 0215 hours.
Fortunately, the wind was coming down the valley so the diesel fuel smell was blowing downstream. At the same time the stench of burning human flesh, plastic, and aviation fuel from the downed choppers was also blowing in the same direction from behind the advancing AZIF units. The nose burning stink pretty much covered up the smell of the sprayed diesel fuel.
McNeil and Molina had linked up with Habaz. All were watching the trees and stream bed. When the advancing AZIF troops came into view at 0224 hours, Habaz opened up on them with the AA gun. The first burst caught five men in the open and shredded them. The incendiary rounds ignited the diesel soaked foliage on both sides of the stream.
The flames spread rapidly up the stream and into the foliage on both sides. Screams could be heard from several locations as the inferno engulfed the advancing AZIF units. Those that were outside the flames fled. A few of those inside the fire area were able to make their way out. For those in the stream bed, the breeze coming down the valley sped up considerably as it neared the canyon, drawing the fire and heat into the stream bed. Those who survived the initial burst of AA fire were forced from their cover. As they stood to flee, each was clearly seen against the fiery backdrop and promptly shot down. Of those on the far side of the stream from the base, only three of the twelve escaped the flames. They couldn't head back into the valley because the flames reached into the steep bluffs. They had to climb the thousand foot bluff to escape. Those on the La Cruz side of the stream were luckier. Five made it out unscathed and two others emerged with nasty burns. The seven fell back into the valley well away from the flames. Out of thirty six men in the three units, ten escaped. As a fighting force they were pretty well beat up and demoralized. It was 0235 hours.
The water River was holding back had risen to ten feet deep. He could feel his strength waning. There was a three inch layer of diesel fuel atop the water. "Light it now, I can't hold it much longer," he yelled to Loose.
Loose fired the flame thrower across the top of the water and the entire pool ignited. River was back far enough not to get burned but the heat was intense. He held it for thirty seconds before letting it go. The suddenly freed water crashed downstream, spreading the burning diesel fuel as it cascaded. The diesel fuel flowing from the stand pipe continually joined the burning torrent. River simply dropped to his butt and buried his head in his knees in exhaustion. Emo hurried out to him, helped him to his feet and with an arm about his back, began moving upstream beyond the flames. When they reached a safe spot. Emo jumped down into the stream bed and caught River as he limply slid down. Emo helped him back to the armored flame thrower and sat him in the passenger seat. Loose turned the vehicle around and headed back to the point where they had stopped spraying. Emo stood in the shadows of the foliage atop the streambed bank and scanned for mental activity. Loose hooked the flamethrower to a stand pipe and refilled the on board fuel tank. Then they held position and waited. The valley below where they had released the water/diesel fuel deluge flickered with the light of the burning fuel. The forested mountain slopes seemed to filled with eerie dancing demons.
When Brose and her group neared the base entrance, the black maw of the base was illuminated by the dancing shadows from the conflagration. They could hear the blood curdling screams of those caught in the flames and occasional gunshots as those of the group in the stream bed were gunned down. By the time they reached the entrance, they looked out onto a scene from Dante's inferno.
"Franz, we've locked the base staff and soldiers in the dormitories," Brose said as she looked at him. Are any of them innocents?"
"No, they're all Nazis," Franz admitted understanding he was sentencing them to death.
Looking out from the entrance the team guarding the entrance could be easily seen from behind. Looking up the far hill, Brose spotted people climbing the slope.
"Patterson, bring my M107 and M26 ASAP," Brose ordered. "I see some targets scrambling up the bluff above you."
Franz and the others strained their eyes to spot the men but saw nothing. They waited for Patterson to arrive.
As soon as he dropped the packs by Brose, she opened the M107 and began assembling the behemoth. In less than a minute, she was attaching the night vision scope and slamming a clip of ammo home. Kneeling, she swept the far bluff until she saw a target.
The others followed her aim and spotted what they thought might be a person climbing the bluff. Those that saw the figure pointed him out to the others.
Scarcely moving, Brose squeezed the trigger. The report of the .50 cal echoed throughout the valley. It was 0240 hours. Over on the bluff, the man who had been scrambling upwards suddenly slammed against the steep hillside, then tumbled down the slope like a rag doll. The man had been a bit about a kilometer away.
Without pausing, Brose zeroed in on the other two and picked them off, each a minute after the last.
"My God," Franz whispered in awe. "No wonder those men on the missions didn't stand a chance against you."
"In New Jersey, she only used the .50 cal Desert Eagle," Sunny said. "She shot down the jet and the helicopter with it. As far as I know, she's never missed a target. One shot and done. She rescued the four of us there."
It was the first time the freed emerged realized the two sets of twins were really quads, the ones their superiors had tried to nab. By this time the fire upstream was dying down.
The ten surviving AZIF from the three frontal assault teams had been communicating over their comms. They knew they'd been decimated. The seven survivors in the valley knew the three on the other side were trying to climb the bluffs to safety. Then they heard the powerful report of the .50 cal.
"My God! They blew a hole in Harry’s chest big enough to put my arm through," a panicked voice choked out. "How the hell can they see us in these fucking tr...,"
The comm went dead in mid speech as the 50. cal roared again. The remaining survivors knew a marksmen was picking them off. The lone survivor on the other side scrambled for cover but another roar abruptly ended his attempt. The seven left were absolutely terrified. Not once had they seen the opposition. This was too much like the two big operations in the US that were annihilated. They were afraid to attempt to join the remaining group heading over the mountain. More importantly, they were afraid to use their comms. They just sat in shock listening as the unit going over La Cruz tried to contact any survivors and their bosses back at the AZIF base raged.
"I doubt too many escaped the inferno," Habaz declared after Brose took out the three. “It looks like we took out a dozen in the stream bed."
"I picked off three climbing the bluffs," Brose added. “With two choppers downed, they landed about forty eight and a few might have survived a bail-out. If they split into four teams, we've eliminated two and probably chopped another in half. That leaves them about a dozen going over the top to get behind us. Do we need a relay box to set of the explosives inside the base if we move out?"
"Yes." Lincoln replied. "I'll come over and set a few up so if they find one we can still blow it."
"Loose, in ten minutes I want you to pull back to the base," Brose said. "Habaz, as soon as they're back, use the AA to light up the trees down there. Lincoln, rig the flame thrower to blow with everything else. I want everyone to pack up. I want everyone ready to move out in fifteen minutes, upstream. A little over two miles upstream is a twist in the streambed. That will put us about a mile and a half away from La Cruz, when we get there we’ll blow the base."
"I assume they have survival gear stashed nearby," Brose turned to Franz. "We've got fifteen minutes get you guys outfitted and we'll replenish our food and water."
They found the emergency supply closet near the entrance. Each of the released emerged took a pack, bedroll and rain poncho as well as rations and water. Brose found several comm sets charging off to one side. Taking two she dialed in the frequency AZIF had used in the last mission Brose took down. Brose's people took rations and water for themselves and the rest of the Butt Kickers. They were at the entrance in fifteen minutes. Except for the smoldering helicopters, the fires upstream had burned out. The down stream side was burning brightly. Brose had everyone gather in the stream bed where they doled out the water and rations.
Franz and the others were stunned to see the size of the unit. Ten emerged and ten soldiers. Yet they'd taken out the entire base only suffering a few minor injuries. Brose gave one of the captured comm links to McNeil. As they listened they could hear the leader of the unit going over La Cruz trying to contact his other squads and the haranguing of the Nazis. Unknown to anyone but themselves, the seven AZIF men in the valley decided to shag out. Angling up the valley, they made to find the stream as it meandered down to the base. They struggled to help the two burned men to go with them.
McNeil sent three scouts ahead, one to stop every hundred feet to scan the foliage with night vision for any sign of the enemy. It was 0255 hours when they set out in single file. The going was slow but steady. It took them forty minutes to cover the two miles of meandering stream. They could see La Cruz, still backlit from the burning diesel fuel continuing to flow from the open stand pipe. The stream bank toward La Cruz at the bend was high enough the Butt Kickers could easily take cover to escape the direct blast zone if the concussion wave came out to them.
From the desperate chatter over the comms between the remaining AZIF unit atop La Cruz and the AZIF base it was clear the commanders were totally pissed off and the remaining team had reached the summit of La Cruz and could clearly see the fire raging down the stream from the still flowing diesel fuel. The unit on top was clearly afraid to descend and insisted upon waiting for reinforcements. The smoldering forest along the stream just down from the base was badly burned so their approach would not be shielded by foliage.
At 0335 hours, Brose spoke into one of the comm units she’d taken. “I really wish you guys wouldn’t try to mess with me. MMRROWWLLL.”
As she closed the link the comm filled with the terrified voices of the men atop La Cruz. The seven fleeing upstream froze in terror. The Nazis went silent. Several voices spoke in surprised terror. “The Cat....”
Brose nodded to Lincoln who pressed the detonation button. Everyone stood looking back at looming La Cruz, eerily backlit by the diesel fuel fire still heading down stream. The entire valley shook and it looked as if La Cruz rose intact a hundred feet into the air. Then the huge mountain simply disintegrated. Debris from what had been the mountain top blew skyward for at least a thousand feet as the sides blew out in every direction. The shaking earth knocked everyone off their feet and trees on the bank toppled into the stream.
There was no way the AZIF unit on the mountain could have escaped. It was a good thing the Butt Kickers were already on the ground as the concussive shock wave hit them. Fist sized rocks began to pepper the area down stream from their position and the deadly rain rapidly moved towards them as the massive tonnage blown skyward and out crashed back to earth far from it’s point of origin. No one had to be told to dive into the stream bed bank. The massive roar echoed back and forth between the mountain peaks for almost five minutes. The tremor was felt and the sound was heard in the capital of La Paz three hundred miles away.
The seven AZIF soldiers had almost made it to the stream bed when the mountain exploded. Being under the trees they couldn’t see the explosion but they too were knocked to the ground by the earth movement. When the blast wave hit them it tore branches from the trees sending them crashing amongst them. Several trees toppled as their roots were torn from the earth by the combined seismic and air blasts. Then the rocks began to pelt them. As best they could they huddled against tree trunks for protection.
The debris fell for almost five minutes. As soon as it let up, the Butt Kickers began to see if anyone had been injured. Other than a few bruises from rebounding rocks, they were unscathed.
The AZIF survivors weren’t as lucky. One of the burned men hadn’t been able to make it to a tree trunk. His skull had been caved in by a rock. The rest took what they could from his body and then scrambled for the stream.
Brose and Emo both felt waves of human terror and fear emanating from the devastated foliage before the sounds reached them.
“People approaching, fast," Brose yelled. "They're scared."
The deep throated reverberating rumble was finally fading when the Butt Kickers heard stumbling through the downed foliage heading in their direction. McNeil and his soldiers unslung their weapons as everyone once more huddled against the bank.
In rapid succession the AZIF men began yelping as they suddenly emerged from the fallen trees and limbs to find the ground had disappeared beneath their feet. All quite literally simply stumbled off the top of the seven feet high stream bank to crash into the stream bed. Before they could recover they were pinned to the ground looking up at the barrels of ten M4A1s. They had no energy to resist.
*****
The Center had been monitoring the entire operation closely. They sucked in the data the Butt Kickers had downloaded and sent their way. On the spy satellite surveillance they had seen the explosions as the bunkers were blown. They followed the heat signature of the freed prisoners as they were led downstream and sent up a side valley. They saw the explosions of the downed helicopters. They clearly saw the massive fire to the north of La Cruz when they lit up the valley. They saw the fire topped flood head downstream, and the conflagration in the trees south of La Cruz. They knew Brose had ordered the base destroyed but they were shocked by the intensity of the explosion. From the air it seemed as if a volcano had erupted. They were quite concerned about the safety of the Butt Kickers in the aftermath.
When the bunkers exploded, the US Embassy sent an urgent message to the office of President Morales requesting an immediate meeting even though it was just after 1:00am. The US Military Attache had been briefed on the secret Nazi base and the covert mission. It was 1:55 when he met President Morales. It was an open secret that the Nazis had para military bases but as long as they did not create any issues, they were allowed to function. What the Bolivian officials didn't know about was the clandestine base inside Amboro at La Cruz. The attache explained the US had been monitoring the area because of the suspected AZIF terrorist bases and ties with the Nazis. He apologized for not informing the president but honestly stated that while the US felt they could trust him, they were afraid others in the government would warn the Nazis before enough evidence could be compiled. President Morales was upset but understood the reasoning. On a laptop, the US Military Attache streamed real time images from the spy satellite. They saw the infrared images of dozens of people fleeing down stream away from La Cruz, noting they turned up a side valley. They witnessed the downing of the two helicopters and the conflagration in the trees upstream from La Cruz as it happened.
President Morales ordered the Bolivian Army put on full alert. Then ordered the Army chief of staff and his officers to come to him for an immediate briefing. When they arrived he had the US Military Attache go over the situation regarding the Nazis and AZIF complete with all the intelligence the US had gathered on the locations and terrain of the bases.
The generals watched the fiery flood cascading down stream and the massive fire on the downstream side of La Cruz. All were stunned when La Cruz exploded. The sound and earth tremor soon reached them.
President Morales reminded the generals that just a few weeks ago the General in charge of drug traffic interdiction and several of his subordinates had been arrested. He bluntly told the generals he wanted all the AZIF bases attacked and shut down by sunset that day. He also told them that if word of the raids leaked out, it would be considered high treason and those responsible would be executed. He was furious the Nazis were so brazenly operating and wanted them destroyed. If they could be caught with their fingers in this mess by quick, secret military action, the government could confiscate their large estates, effectively destroying their financial base as well as helping to squelch terrorism.
The US Military Attache would remain with President Morales to relay incoming US spy satellite data to the generals. President Morales made it quite clear he would accept no excuses for failure.
*****
It only took a few moments for the Butt Kickers to secure their new prisoners. While the quads tended to the injured man's burns others headed into the foliage to look for stout limbs as it was clear he wouldn't be able to go much further under his own power. Jim, one of the emerged prisoners, stepped forward to help. Even though she had not had any formal training her talent was healing. She did what she could to ease the man’s burns and cut his pain. High set up his satellite comm link and contacted The Center.
"Obviously you know the base is gone," Brose reported in. "We suffered a few minor bruises from the debris but nothing serious. We have a few non life-threatening combat injuries but everyone is functional. We have the ten emerged with us. So far they're stunned by what happened but they know they were targeted by their bosses. I think they'll be cooperative. We've also managed to capture six AZIF attackers. They were fleeing the fight, apparently the only survivors of the assault force and they literally ran into us. They surrendered without a fight. One has severe burns and we're rigging a litter. We'll keep moving through dawn, then bed down for a few hours."
A few fallen limbs were lashed together with blankets to make a litter. The man was placed on it and with a prisoner at either end, they resumed their march upstream at 0355 hours. Every five minutes they switched off one carrier so they had each had ten minutes on and fifteen minutes off. At rough spots, assistance was given as needed.
Side streams joined the main stream every few hundred feet. By 0430 hours, the stream had dwindled to the point it was no longer feasible for them to stay in the narrow, rocky bed. At that point they headed south up into the mountains, aiming for a pass three miles from where they’d sheltered from the blast. The sky was growing bright. It was 0715 hours when they reached the point where they crossed the ridge. They quickly crossed and continued to head down the new valley. Brose decided to keep going. They were only three and a half miles from the secluded spot they'd camped their first night and it was all down hill. They made sure to remain under the canopy of the trees. It was 0905 hours when they reached the site they'd stayed just two days before. Everyone was tired. They sat down to eat some rations before sacking out. McNeil set up a guard rotation and tied up the six AZIF troops.
"Franz," Brose said as she came up to the ten weary emerged. "I'm sorry but I'm going to have to place a guard to watch you while we rest."
"I understand," Franz nodded. "I appreciate that you trust us enough not to tie us up." Then Franz lightly pinged Brose.
"Go ahead," Brose returned the probe.
"I want to let you know I've been lightly probing your fellow Butt Kickers," Franz admitted. "It's a fitting name. I felt compelled to do it to make sure all you've told me is true. After what we've been through, it seemed more than a bit far fetched. I only read their surface thoughts and didn't try to influence them in any way. They not only respect you, they love you. I've shared my findings with the others. The girls and I want to go with you as do Jim, Nathan, Sheila and Janice."
"I'm not an empath or dominator," Brose replied. "But I can feel others when they are emotional. You already know I can block probes. I thought you might be unobtrusively probing the others for information. I know I would if I could and were in your shoes. I appreciate your honesty."
"Elsa and I could feel you watching us," Franz admitted. "We didn't want to upset you. I was hoping you'd accept a bit of info gathering. I think I'm going to like this Center."
"You'll probably kept in a secure location until Kristyn is convinced you're safe to release into the general population," Brose stated.
"We all expect that and understand the need for caution," Franz answered. "As long as we're not abused, it shouldn't be a problem. This Kristyn you just mentioned. She's your base commander?"
"No, she's the overall commander," Brose chuckled. "She oversees all the bases. And before you ask, yes, she is one of us and our age. All our base commanders are emerged and our age too. I have a commission in the regular US Army as a Warrant Officer One. I'm in command because I hold the highest rank in the Butt Kickers."
Franz was surprised. "How is that possible?"
"We are a section of the Department of Homeland Security," Brose explained. "An Army Colonel organized us and is now our liaison with the rest of the Army. We've been given field commissions and a few others are non comms but are listed on the Army rolls. That doesn’t mean all the emerged are in the army. Since we’re a first strike unit all the Butt Kickers are Army. Most of us are just still going to school."
"Impressive. Thanks for the info. Tell your guards to watch Erwin," Franz said. "He's pissed at our former superiors but he's been thinking about taking off on his own. He's not a bad guy, but we've all been warped to some extent by the Nazis. I don't think he'll try to hurt anyone but he might try to slip away. If you secure him, he'll be bitter and dangerous.
Brose passed the warning to watch Erwin to the others as everyone sacked out.
Brose took first turn at guard duty. They could faintly hear the helicopters flying over what was left of La Cruz. In a straight line they were only five miles away but they were two thousand feet down the other side of the ridge from the site. At 0920 she used the satellite comm link to let The Center know they’d stopped. Then she switched to the spy satellite imagery.
She could see four Bolivian Army helicopters at the devastated site. La Cruz had collapsed into the canyon in front of it, clogging it to a considerable depth. The blocked waters of the stream were already creating a new lake. The intensity of the blast had knocked down every tree for about three thousand feet. The canyon bluff opposite the base had nothing left. Anything remotely moveable had been blown up and over the top of the thousand feet tall bluff for a quarter mile on either side of where the entrance had been. Soldiers and others were beginning to climb over the debris trying to figure out what had happened. The downed helicopters were covered with blown down trees and barely visible. Soon they would be swallowed by the black debris laden waters of the new lake already lapping within feet of the wrecks. Floating shattered trees and shrubs almost covered the water surface.
Later examination of the down loaded base schematics and the explosion revealed some surprising data. The high point where the antennae had been placed atop La Cruz had been one thousand three hundred feet above the bottom of the canyon. The first thousand vertical feet up was also a thousand feet horizontal, a forty five degree angle, from the canyon floor. The last three hundred vertical feet was over two thousand horizontal feet. The base had been tunneled into the mountain about five thousand feet. The entrance had been thirty feet wide which gradually widened to three hundred feet with suitable rock walls left intact to hold the mountain in place. It had five levels, one of fuel, two of munitions, and the rest living and working space. When it exploded, the entire mountain fractured. The solid portion above the entrance simply blew the thousand feet across the canyon to the far side. The rest of the mountain collapsed into the suddenly excavated base and slid into the canyon. The canyon was filled to a depth of six hundred feet. The newly created lake would be a two miles long and two thirds of a mile wide.
Brose was relieved from watch and slept. When she awoke, most people were stirring. Data Brose downloaded revealed the refugees from La Cruz had been rescued by the Bolivian Army. Three AZIF bases had also been attacked. Initial helicopter assaults had been driven off but after severe attacks by the Bolivian Air Force, the helicopters were able to land. The military also locked down all the airports and border crossings. Those known to be Nazis were being arrested supposedly based on the statements of the prisoners the Butt Kickers had released.
Their camp had not been found, especially since no one was looking for them as everyone was busy elsewhere. After a meal, they set out at 0330 hours heading upstream retracing their path of the journey of their first day. They walked six hours covering fifteen miles before they settled down for another night.
After setting up their satellite link, they found out the AZIF bases were still not secured but organized resistance had ceased. Only a few diehards fought on. At the site of the explosion of La Cruz, there was more than enough circumstantial evidence to reveal it had been a major Nazi underground base. The rescued prisoners knew the base had been attacked and they had been freed and that those who attacked had guided them to safety before returning to the base. The only bodies found were a few of the AZIF soldiers and the Nazis in the blown bunkers. The SS uniforms of those in the ruins was quite damning. The information The Center infokinetics had gathered on the Nazis in Bolivia was handed over to President Morales. Many of the expatriate Germans had already been arrested. Several had committed suicide. A few estates were mini-fortresses and under assault. It would take days to sort out the mess.
The six demoralized AZIF soldiers were US citizens. They now knew they had been up against THE CAT, as Brose had been nick-named. With her efficient strike group, they understood they hadn't stood a chance. They also knew they hadn't a hope of escape, and would rather cooperate with the Butt Kickers in the hope of facing at least a modicum of justice back in the States rather than fall into the hands of the Bolivians.
Jim, Nathan, Janice and Sheila were US citizens who had been successfully spirited off by AZIF. They had still not adjusted to their gender change and were still suffering from the brain washing the Nazis had used to try to subvert them into the cause. They were glad to be going back to the US but were sad to learn they could never reunite with their families.
Franz, Gretchen, Heidi, and Brigitta were abducted US Citizens who had been brainwashed by the Nazis. Enough of their original selves survived to accept the freedom Brose offered. They understood they'd have to be de-brainwashed.
Erwin and Elsa were natural born Bolivian Germans. There were five other Bolivian Germans emerged. Brose had killed three. The other two were currently out on missions with AZIF teams. Elsa reported one was a projecting empath and the other a telepath, both third level.
Erwin never fully accepted his gender change and though he had been trusted by the Nazis, they hadn't felt he was stable enough to be sent out on missions. He had been well enough indoctrinated to serve as a fifth column man inside the brainwashed emerged. The Nazi betrayal hit him hard and he was quite leery of going to The Center.
Elsa was the only female emerged Bolivian German. In the macho Nazi hierarchy, they had never considered sending her on missions. Her ability as an empath was used regularly to monitor the kidnaped emerged until they could be broken. She was also six weeks pregnant. She'd been inseminated with the sperm of the strongest emerged, the dominator Brose had last killed.
The Nazis had decided to 'breed' the emerged. All the boys had been 'milked' once a month and the sperm frozen or used to impregnate suitable Aryan females.
Elsa had been aware of the plan and knew at least ten women had been impregnated before her. She most certainly didn't like being used as brood cow and so willingly went to The Center.
The Butt Kickers awoke at dawn well rested. After breakfast, they packed up and headed out at 0630 hours. They only had nine miles to cover to get back to the base camp and Prof Renoir but it was all up hill. It was 1300 hours when they reached the main base.
Canadian identification papers and passports had already arrived from The Center for the prisoners and emerged, hand carried by four soldiers from The Center. They had secured local SUVs to transport everyone back to El Forte where the trucks and survey equipment were to be left. The entire group, the twenty Butt Kickers, the six prisoners, the ten emerged, Prof. Renoir and the two guards plus the four newly arrived men would board a bus for the ride to La Paz where a chartered Canadian jet waited to whisk the Canadian Archaeologist and his students to safety. Since they had arrived overland with official approval, the red tape and lock-down at the airport had been smoothed over to allow the foreigners to flee the turmoil roiling Bolivia. Many nations were evacuating their nationals as a precaution as fighting still raged between the hard pressed Nazis and the Bolivian military.
President Morales was taking full advantage of the fiasco to root out every vestige of Nazism calling it anti-Bolivian. The confiscation of the Nazi estates and assets would pay the costs of the operation and allow the land to be 'given' to the peasants. Morales had already promised that as a way of garnering support from the masses for his Nazi eradication effort. The horrible medical experiments that had been conducted on the disfigured freed human guinea pigs had been made public. The photos and film had sickened the world as it harkened back to the horrific experiments carried out in the Nazi Concentration Camps during WWII.
By 2000 hours, the jet with the evacuating 'Canadians' was rolling down the La Paz runway. The jet had been chartered in Canada, but the crew was US Air Force. A team of doctors and nurses were on bard to treat the injured. The sun was up as they landed at Lackland Air Force Base, part of Joint Base San Antonio. A smaller jet with a crew from The Center was waiting. Under tight security, the passengers switched planes. Twenty minutes after landing, they were again airborne heading for The Center.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 7
The mission had been an outstanding success. The main Nazi base had been utterly destroyed. The computers had been successfully raided and the information uploaded to The Center. The information about the Nazi web in Bolivia was immediately released to the Bolivian Government as were the medical files of the eugenics experiments carried out upon the prisoners, all of whom were indigenous peoples.
Safely back at The Center, the Butt Kickers hit the sack early, the excursion had worn them out and adrenalin only goes so far. The emerged Butt Kickers were given the next day off to unwind and reset their focus. The six AZIF prisoners knew their organization had been destroyed so they cooperated fully with their interrogators. The ten emerged brought back were sequestered in the detention area for processing and their reprogramming began.
The next morning the Butt Kickers were welcomed as heros. They had cut off the head of the AZIF terrorist snake while eliminating or capturing most of the Nazi emerged. The only down side was the two Nazi emerged who had been off base on missions. Liz used her skills to save the burned AZIF prisoner. The wound Brose had suffered was already well on the road to healing thanks to her incredible metabolism.
After breakfast, Brose approached Kristyn with an idea. "When we first saw the four emerged who were being brainwashed into joining the Nazis they were wearing a bomb collar. It worked much like an invisible fence for dogs. If they went past a certain point, BOOM. If they became dangerous, BOOM. I think we could use a similar approach now. I'm not saying we should put bombs on them. Our techs could come up with a two level collar. The first level would electrically warn them with a mild shock if they stepped out of designated areas or misbehaved. The second level would be to stun them into unconsciousness or if they're electrokinetic, drug them. If we had it, we could offer it to them, on a voluntary basis, the option of getting out of being in detention as long as they followed the rules. Then they could mingle with the other students and learn The Center is a good place to be. Their reprogramming would go much quicker if they see how good life is here."
Kristyn smiled. "The techs already have such devices. They're based on the control collar the Syndicate made Mattie wear. We originally planned using them on rogue emerged or captured uncooperative syndicate emerged but we realized forcing them to wear it could very well be detrimental. The ten emerged you brought back are in a different bracket. They didn't like where they were and were openly betrayed. They're looking for a better place. This sounds like the perfect opportunity to try the collars. I'll contact Ms Fine to let her know you'll be asking them about the collars. I'd like you to get the ten together and explain about the collars. Then tell them wearing them would be totally voluntary and refusal to wear one would not be held against them. Explain that Ms Fine and the techs will have to individually fit the collars. They'll be released into the main population as long as they are accompanied by one of the Butt Kickers. The Butt kickers will wear identical collars without programming. The collars also monitor blood pressure and heart rate so we can tell if someone is asleep or running. Then contact Ms Fine and tell her how many accept."
"I'm sure I know the answer, but I want to make sure," Brose asked. "The collars can't kill them, like the bombs they used in Bolivia?"
"We do have collars that can be fatal," Kristyn answered. "We will not be using them on these people."
"Thank you," Brose smiled.
It was mid afternoon when Brose had the Butt Kicker emerged gather in the detention area common room. The ten emerged from Bolivia were brought in. They had spent the morning undergoing physicals and friendly interrogation. They'd been outfitted in prison gray sweat suits and flip flops.
"We were all worn out yesterday and we didn't have a chance to welcome you to the center," Brose began. "I'm sure you understand why you're in detention. Has anyone been mistreated?"
No one verbally responded although they all shook their heads.
"Good, we try our best to treat everyone with respect," Brose went on. "Don't take that to mean we're weak. You saw what we did on the mission. We know how to handle resistance. That said, I've come to make you an offer. You can accept or reject it. We will not force you to do this. Our technical staff has come up with a good conduct collar. Before you get worked up, the version we're offering you will not be fatal. It has two levels, the first is a mild shock to let you know you're venturing out of approved areas or out of acceptable behavior. The second level is a drug that knocks you out for four hours. I'm told you'll have a nasty headache afterwards but otherwise there will be no ill effects. The collars also monitor your vital signs so those monitoring the devices know if your sleeping or running. They also have a GPS locator beacon. Any attempt to remove the collar will immediately knock you out. You will be monitored at all times and places by computer. The only time a human will monitor is if you trigger an alarm. The device also has a microphone and mini speaker system so you can be told if you're doing something you shouldn't."
"If you elect to wear a collar, you will be allowed out of detention," Brose said. "Each of the Butt Kickers will wear a similar collar without the knock-out feature in support of you. The rules are simple. You'll be placed in regular dorm rooms, two to a room. Leaving your room will cause an alert. When outside your room, you will have to be with a Butt Kicker. It does not have to be one on one. The only exception is to use the restrooms. That you may do on your own. In general our rules are similar to those of any school including wearing a school uniform. We understand you'll sometimes step out of line, but any hint of malice is punished harshly and swiftly. With our powers, we can't afford to allow anyone to become angry. Self control is paramount. In the facility, there are areas that will be off limits to you for security reasons. However, classrooms, exercise rooms, swimming pool, cafeteria, common room, game room, and the infirmary will be accessible as long as there is a Butt Kicker with you. It will be possible to go outside also. Again, there will be restricted areas but most of the rec facilities will be open. Again, we have the entire base set up for surveillance so any attempt to escape or injure someone will be shut down. We're hoping letting you see what our lives are like here will help you adjust. We want you to join us, but we will not force you to do so."
"I'm not going to sugar coat this," Brose grew serious. "We have had a few emerged who were simply too out of control. Those we call rogues. Emerging sometimes causes insanity. Those who were dangers to others and could not exercise self control and acceptable behavior were put down. Those who do not want to join The Center but pose no major threat are transferred to a secure facility, similar to a high security prison. They are treated well and have access to study and games and exercise, but they are always locked up. What happens to you is under your control. Show us you want to become part of the Center population."
"If you'd like time to think this over, please do so," Brose smiled. "If you want to give it a go now. We can have you ready to go by lunch."
All but Elsa and Erwin, the German Bolivians, jumped at the chance. Elsa debated for a few moments, then spoke up. “If the knock out drug will not hurt my baby, I’ll agree.”
“I‘ll check on that,” Brose answered.
Erwin remained defiant. "What happens to us if we can't adjust to life here?"
"Like I said, if you become dangerous, you're killed," Brose bluntly replied. "If you are not dangerous, then you're placed in the emerged prison."
"So we really have no choice then," Erwin huffed.
"If you want any sort of normal life, not really," Brose honestly answered. "Erwin, give us a chance to show you life with us can be good. If you don't like us and can't adapt, you know the options. You have nothing to lose by trying it."
It was clear Erwin wasn't happy but he acknowledged the logic of trying it.
It really helped to have the Butt Kickers fitted with collars at the same time. They did look identical. Ms Fine was clearly apprehensive as the technicians fit the collars.
"I'm head of security," Ms Fine spoke. "I'll be honest with you, I'm not happy with this experiment. Part of me actually hopes you will step out of line, but I'll also admit that is my selfish part. However, Ms Keyes is in favor of it and I follow her orders. I will promise that we will be monitoring you closely. Elsa, the drug will not hurt your baby in any manner."
Two emerged entered the room. One a brown haired Mediterranean beauty and the other a blue haired Asian boy. "I'm Warrant Officer Max Stevenson," he spoke up. "I'm the commander of this base, which we call the Alpha Site. You do anything wrong and I'll see you are punished. If you do anything well, you will be praised. I really look forward to seeing you integrate with the rest of us. Welcome aboard."
"As Max said this is an experiment to allow us to integrate rescued or newly emerged to adjust to life here at The Center," the girl spoke. "You can thank Brose for this opportunity. I'm Kristyn Keyes, the Commander of The Center. We currently have three bases, each commanded by an emerged such as Max. I'm in over-all command. Officially we are a non-public arm of the Department of Homeland Security. We are affiliated with the US Army, hence our ranks. Because we are base or, like Brose, mission commanders, we command higher ranking Army officers placed under our authority. We remain secret because if the general population learned about us, they might panic. Our primary mission is to protect the people of the United States and the world. Most of our missions have been in the United States. We defend against rogue emerged or organizations that want to use emerged as weapons of terrorism, crime, or world conquest. But we have more freedom than any other emerged we've encountered. We govern ourselves within the laws of the US. We make our own rules as long as they don't conflict with the U.S. Constitution. I stress the word WE because WE do run The Center. You are free to speak your mind or offer suggestions or criticisms. I too want to welcome you on board."
After everyone had left but the Butt Kickers, Brose spoke up. "We'll take you to the wardrobes. We have one for the boys and one for the girls. You'll get your school uniforms and casual clothes as well as toiletries. The uniforms are designed to force us to learn to function as our current gender. Few of us liked it at first, but since everyone is wearing the same thing, we adapted. For those who may not like your new gender, we do allow cross-dressing. If you chose to cross-dress, you will do so fully. There is no half and half during school hours. Afterward, you may dress as you wish as long as you are decent. Dating is allowed. Sexual orientation does not matter. We have gay, lesbian and straight couples. We have a few where the boy prefers to cross-dress so with his girlfriend they appear to be lesbians. As long as the relationships are honest, we accept them. We do not encourage sex, but believe me, we know how horny we teenagers get. Please take precautions to prevent pregnancy. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. One other thing before we go to get you outfitted. Names... Jim,
Nathan, Janice and Sheila, you'll need to choose new names that are gender appropriate by the time we leave the wardrobe. You are not allowed to keep your old name. First and last name are required, a middle name is optional. The rest of you will need to change your last names. If you want to change your first names, you may. Again, do so by the time we're done in wardrobe. After we log you into the computer system, we'll take you to your rooms, then head to the cafeteria for supper."
The newcomers were stunned by the selections in the wardrobes. It was like going to a shopping mall. They began to get an appreciation for the amenities The Center could offer.
Dominic Patrick (aka Franz), Edwin Rome (aka Erwin), Rasputin Beam (aka Janice) and Michael Jones (aka Sheila) emerged from the boys wardrobe. Mindy Worth (aka Gretchen), Casperia Taft (aka Heidi), Damalis Yoder (aka Brigitta), Elaine Adam (aka Elsa), Bonnie (Bones) Rice (aka Jim) and Natalie Davis (aka Nathan) emerged from the girls wardrobe. The talents of the four former emerged AZIF prisoners had been determined. Bonnie turned out to be a healer, Natalie was an eraser, Rasputin (or as he preferred Putin, short for computin) was a Technopath , and Michael was a aerokinetic.
When they reached their rooms, they were surprised by the windows looking outside. The study partner desks with computers was an added bonus. Although utilitarian, the quarters were much better than what AZIF had provided and they were delighted they could decorate the room as they wished.
The cafeteria was beyond their wildest dreams. The selections were enormous and delicious. The number of emerged also surprised them. In AZIF, their numbers had never been large. Now they were surrounded with dozens of emerged who welcomed them without hesitation. Edwin began to think his objections to being in The Center were baseless.
Even more encouraging to the new arrivals was when their fellow students began to request and wear collars to show their support.
*****
President Morales ordered the military to hit every Nazi stronghold. As soon as the prisoners who had been the victims of the Nazi experiments were found, President Morales ordered the immediate dissemination of film and photos of their disfigured bodies letting the Bolivian people and the world know the Nazis had been resurrecting their WWII human experiments. Some had even been used as unwilling organ donors for high ranking Nazis. Others had Gecko DNA injected into them in attempts to regrow severed limbs and organs.
The indigenous population had always been distrustful of the arrogant expatriate Germans and their attitude of racial superiority. Now they had the excuse they needed to vent their frustrations. What the Bolivian army didn't take down, mobs did. Any German estate the Army didn't attack, the local population did. Many Germans were surrounded by outraged mobs as they tried to flee and were beaten to death.
President Morales understood why the US had sent in a unit to take out the base at La Cruz. While not happy, he understood a clandestine surgical strike had been necessary as there were simply too many leaks in the Bolivian government and military. Being a socialist, he intended to make full use of this incident to crush the Nazis and the terrorists they sponsored in Bolivia.
Presided Morales acknowledged US supplied intelligence had enabled him to strike so effectively. Together with the US, they locked down every financial asset the Nazis had spread throughout the world. The role the Nazis had in setting up and sponsoring AZIF shocked the world.
As the Bolivians were spreading out to snuff out the Nazis and AZIF, the analysts at The Center were sifting through and deciphering the downloaded information. Their immediate concern was to locate all AZIF locations in the US, Canada, and Mexico.
Canada was embarrassed to learn that AZIF had been using Canada to launch raids and strikes into the US. The Canadian Military in cooperation with the RCMP promptly hit every AZIF site decoded and passed on to them by the analysts. Large sites were surrounded and cut off until superior forces could be massed while smaller were taken down. Few went peacefully but fortunately resistance didn't last long. In most cases, once the troops realized the jig was up, they surrendered or rebelled against any fanatics. A few diehard Nazis actually forced their rebelling troops to run out of their positions to surrender while they used the confusion to escape through secret tunnels.
Mexico moved as quickly as the Mexican Army could so the sites were vacant and burned out by the time they arrived. Virtually all the AZIF troops simply melted away.
In the US, the situation was much like Canada. State and local police cordoned off the AZIF sites and waited for DHS, FBI, and military assistance. There was gunfire exchanged at most locations, but like those in Canada, the resistance quickly crumbled when they realized there was no chance of relief.
The news of the crushing of the Nazi sponsored terrorism made world wide headlines. No country offered asylum to Nazis fleeing Bolivia. All were turned away or arrested to be sent back to face Bolivian justice.
The two Nazi emerged were pinpointed in the US. The Center sent out strike forces to nab them but by the time they reached the sites, they'd fought their way through the cordons the state and local police had established. They used their AZIF troops as cannon fodder to smash through the police lines then fled with a core of hard line dedicated Nazis. Heavily armed, they used hand held rockets to down pursuing helicopters and successfully evaded pursuit. Nazi leadership in the US did the same, evading capture and pursuit.
The information downloaded mentioned secure gathering spots in case their bases were discovered, but no where were the locations pinpointed. Apparently only the leadership and emerged had been trusted with the locations and such information was dispensed verbally on a need to know basis. They had gone to ground, but no one knew where.
*****
James Goldschmidt, aka Prof. Jean Claude Renoir, was also questioned. They found him delighted with playing a part in bringing down the neo-Nazis. With his expertise in archaeology and history, he was offered a permanent teaching position within The Center. He leapt at the opportunity provided to turn his life around.
The adjustment of the ten emerged brought back from Bolivia went rapidly. At the end of their first week, they'd been thoroughly debriefed and even Edwin had fully cooperated. They all went to classes with the other students and quickly adapted to life at The Center. The four who had been resisting the Nazi efforts at brainwashing had their collars deactivated after a week as they seamlessly slipped into Center life. They continued to wear them until they were all released from the requirement. The four who had been brainwashed were melding with the other students but due to the extensive reprogramming they needed it took another week until their collars were deactivated.
The Bolivian German community had so far produced nine emerged. One emerged as African and one as Asian. They were incarcerated and eventually eliminated as being inferior races. Their families were humiliated and lost social status. Six were female to male, Elsa was the lone male to female. For the female to males, the sudden upgrade in status was exhilarating. They went from a prospective life of servitude to one of dominance. Coupled with their talents, they became cocky and elitist. They were tightly controlled by the Nazi hierarchy and kept separate from the general population as they wanted to maintain the secret of the emerged. It also enabled them to monitor the 'superior' Aryans.
Elaine elicited close attention. She was a German emerged. Growing up as a boy he had been indoctrinated in the Nazi Aryan superiority mythos which was definitely male dominated. Females were respected but subservient to the males. It was their duty to produce and provide for new generations of Aryans as well as to support their men. The proud macho life of a dedicated Nazi man was his entire life until he emerged.
Elsa lost stature when she emerged. As an empath she was used to monitor the emerged males. She was also designated as a human breeding machine. Sperm samples were regularly collected from the emerged males and three times she had eggs removed from her womb for freezing for later use. For Elsa, the harvesting of eggs had been painful and humiliating. Her dedication to the Nazi cause was sorely tested by these invasive procedures. Still, she knew she had to outwardly appear dedicated to the cause. What really upset her was that they had not told her she was being impregnated. It wasn't until the morning sickness began that they revealed her condition. From that point on she hated the Nazis. Since then she had been hoping for some way to escape and even contemplated suicide. For her the assault by the Butt Kickers had been a blessing.
Elaine/Elsa had been born into one of the prominent Nazi families and thus had been privy to much of the secrecy. While she didn't know specifics, she knew enough to point the investigators in the right directions with a good idea of what they could expect to find. Her information proved invaluable and her collar was deactivated after two weeks.
Edwin, the other German emerged, had not liked the Nazi philosophy before emerging. As a girl, she had always been relegated to supporting her younger half brothers while her step-mother resented her as a constant reminder that she was her husband's second wife. While she enjoyed being a girl and had desired to be liberated, she couldn't wait to get away from her stifling home.
The first emergence had occurred during a confrontation with her step-mother. The sixteen year old was fed up and during the heated argument, things in the room began bursting into flame. The family barely escaped the inferno that engulfed the house. Fortunately, the Nazi hierarchy had become aware of the emerged and had their eyes and ears open for unusual occurrence. They whisked the frightened girl away from her family. Unfortunately, she underwent second emergence in the SUV transporting her to the base at La Cruz.
The front and rear vehicles in the three SUV convoy were damaged and singed when the middle SUV exploded in a tremendous fireball. They had been off the main road but the jungle within a fifty foot circle was blackened. The bodies of those in the SUV were burned to a crisp and a naked unconscious boy was found inside the smouldering wreckage. Erwin was immediately rushed off and incarcerated as dangerous. The other Nazi emerged had not had kinetic powers so they were quite upset by the incident.
The unexpected sex change messed with Erwin's head. The damage his emergence had done only added to his guilt and confusion. He was angry about being a boy, being sequestered, and being looked on as a freak. It was because of this instability he was barred from going on missions like the other emerged boys. Being told his duty was to protect the emerged portion of the base was aggravating as he was seldom even allowed to go outside. It seemed everything the Nazi hierarchy did negatively impacted Erwin. Anger boiled beneath his skin and he wanted so desperately to lash out at his oppressors. Unfortunately, it was for that very reason he had been kept out of the loop concerning the secret safe spots.
Now that he was in The Center, his actions were still limited but these limits gave him more freedom than ever before. Edwin loved going outside, something denied him in the past. Slowly, his anger decreased and with acceptance by his new peers, the mental instability he'd experienced decreased. But the most effective thing that eased his acceptance into life at The Center was the ability and freedom to cross-dress. Much like Chris/Tina, Edwin spent more time as Winnie. Someone directed him to the Youtube video of the song 'Edwin' by the BLACKSHEEPS. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JvcmicOqkg) Edwin loved it!
The collars came off the student body three weeks after the Bolivian emerged arrived. The new arrivals had merged.
Brose was well aware that the Butt Kickers had done an excellent job in Bolivia. She also knew that the two Nazi emerged as well as dozens of dedicated now highly pissed off Nazi fanatics had escaped the dragnet by being out of Bolivia at the time the Butt Kickers destroyed their main base. Brose was sure they would now do their best to destroy The Center. They had to locate the fugitives before they could reorganize. She spent every spare moment pouring over the data looking for clues or patterns that might give her a hint of where they might be.
Brose and Msg. McNeil were unexpectedly summoned to the Pentagon. Brose was fitted with a new Dress Class A Blue dress uniform. The knee length straight skirt emerged from the gold buttoned snug form fitting jacket. The lower hem of the jacket was even with the bottom edge of the cuffed long sleeved arms with the WO1 insignia sewed on the top outside edge of each shoulder. The matching pumps were not as high as the school uniform booties. Her hair was pulled back and gathered into a bun. The dress ‘pot’ hat fit on top with the brim turned up on the sides and back flaring out flat in front. The white button down collar blouse with a crisp black tie was only visible about her neck. Brose looked quite sharp and professional. She smiled when she saw herself. It had been her plan to land an ROTC scholarship for college. Here she was barely a high school junior and she was an officer in the army!
They flew into Andrews Air force Base where they were met by a driver. Brose checked out the sights as they drove to the Pentagon. After passing through several checkpoints, they were dropped off at a lobby in the massive underground parking area. A major was waiting for them.
"I'm Major Brady," he introduced himself. "We'll discuss why you're here in private. Please come with me."
They stepped into an elevator and proceeded through a maze of halls. After a fifteen minute walk, they were ushered into an ante room where they took seats.
"General Hall wants to speak to you about your mission in Bolivia," Major Brady began. "It seems President Morales was impressed by your success and wants to talk to you. He's on his way here from the Bolivian Embassy. General Hall will be present during your meeting as well as the Secretary of State. Before that meeting, they want to award you medals for your efforts."
"I don't mean to be disrespectful," Brose spoke up. "But my team worked just as hard and faced the same dangers..."
"That won't be an issue," Major Brady smiled as he held up his hand to stop Brose. "Every member of the Butt Kickers not here will be receiving the Bronze Star.”
In a few minutes there was knock on the door and it opened without waiting. In walked a Major General and Colonel Harris. Fortunately Brose was not intimidated by Generals. Major Brady introduced everyone.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” General Hall smiled as he returned their salute. "President Morales will be arriving in about ten minutes so we'd better get down to business. I've been designated to represent the President of the United States, the US Congress, and the people of this country in this matter."
“Master Sergeant McNeil,” Gen. Hall spoke. “It’s my pleasure to award you a silver star for your actions in the Bolivian raid. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, sir,” McNeil replied as he accepted the award and a hand shake.
"Ms Shamrock, your record is quite impressive," Gen. Hall stated. "I've known about the emerged for several months, but you are the first I've had the pleasure to meet. I still have a bit of difficulty accepting the emerged talents, it all seems so far fetched. Looking at you, I have difficulty believing you are capable of the all you've done. Not that I doubt you have done them, it's just that you don't fit my mental image of Wonder Woman."
The guys all chuckled. Brose didn't know who Wonder Woman was due to her sheltered life before transitioning but she assumed she was somewhat akin to superman.
"It's difficult for me to handle also," Brose replied with a smile. "Being a boy one day and a girl the next is quite disconcerting. Fortunately, most of us make the transition without undo difficulty."
"I can appreciate that, Ms Shamrock. Now I have several awards for you,” Gen. Hall stated as he turned to Brose. “For your actions during the terrorist attack in New Jersey, The United States Army is presenting you with the badge for expert marksman. Included are the component bars that indicate the specific weapons for which you qualified: Rifle, Pistol and Auto Rifle. Next is the Combat Infantryman Badge awarded to soldiers who personally fought in active ground combat while an assigned member of a Special Forces unit of brigade size or smaller. Then because you were wounded in action against an enemy of the United States you’ve also earned a Purple Heart. Lastly, the National Defense Service Medal, awarded for service on active duty during service in the War on Terrorism.”
Col. Harris attached the badges and awards to the uniform jacket Brose wore. "Congratulations, Ms Shamrock," he stated as he shook her hand.
Brose was humbled and merely smiled tightly.
“For your actions in the school and airport terrorist attacks,” Gen. Hall continued. “You’re being awarded the Air Assault Badge and the Military Freefall Parachutist Badge as a high altitude parachute specialist also called HALO Wings. Because you were wounded in this action against an enemy of the United States you’ve also earned an Oak Leaf Cluster for your Purple Heart. Finally, it’s my pleasure to present you with a Silver Star, the third-highest military decoration that can be awarded to a member of the United States Army for valor in the face of the enemy.”
Colonel Harris once more attached the badges and awards to the uniform jacket Brose wore. "Again, congratulations," he declared as he again shook her hand.
Brose was clearly becoming embarrassed but managed a soft "Thank you."
“For your actions in destroying the terrorist base in Bolivia and freeing the prisoners,” Gen. Hall stated. “It is my pleasure to award you and every member of your unit the Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary Medal. It recognizes military service members who have deployed overseas in direct service to the War on Terror. Because you were again wounded in action against an enemy of the United States you’ve also earned a second Oak Leaf Cluster for your Purple Heart. Finally, it is my pleasure to award you The Distinguished Service Cross, the second highest military decoration that can be awarded to a member of the United States Army, for extreme gallantry and risk of life in actual combat with an armed enemy force.”
Col. Harris once more attached the badges and awards to the uniform jacket Brose wore. "Congratulations, Ma'am," he said as again he shook her hand.
Brose smiled tightly and nodded her head to Msg. McNeil. "Thank you, sir," Brose managed to state as she turned to Gen. Hall.
"You're quite welcome, Ms Shamrock," Gen. Hall smiled. "It's not often I have the pleasure of personally thanking a soldier for their outstanding performance. President Morales should be in the conference room now with the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the Secretary of Defense, The Secretary of State, and the Secretary of Homeland Security. When they're ready for us, an aide will knock on the door behind us."
The wait was not too long.
An aide opened the door to the conference room and ushered the five into the room where they formed a line standing at attention. In unison, they snapped a smart salute which was returned by the senior officers.
"I'd like to present Major General Hall, the head liaison between the Department of Defense and the Department of Homeland Security," the aide spoke. "Colonel Harris is General Hall's Executive Officer assigned to the Department of Homeland Defense. Major Brady is General Hall's Executive Officer here in the Pentagon. Warrant Officer Shamrock formed and is in command of the Butkikr's. Master Sergeant McNeil is the second in command of the Butkikr's.
President Morales was clearly surprised to see Brose identified as the commander of the Butkikr's. "Please forgive me for staring," he spoke. "I was aware a female had commanded the raid against La Cruz, but you look too young for such a position. Once we were alerted to your raid, our military was able to monitor the communications of the Nazis and AZIF. They went into a panic after you spoke to them. I heard you ended your message just before you blew La Cruz with a cat growl. After that, at least half their communications mentioned the Cat. I take it you are the Cat?"
"MMRROWWLLL," Brose responded. "Yes sir, it's a nickname the AZIF tagged me with during a previous operation."
"I see," President Morales smiled. "You must be quite formidable to engender such fear in your enemies. I'm glad to be on the same side. I was told that including yourself, there are only twenty members of the Butt Kickers."
"Yes sir," Brose replied. "The unit is small enough to move quickly and large enough to fight effectively."
"I understand you chose the name for your unit," President Morales went on as he stood and approached Brose. "Considering what you have accomplished, it's quite appropriate. I asked to meet you so I could personally thank you for the raid. I also want to present you and your unit with awards. For the members of your unit, on behalf of the grateful people of Bolivia, it is my pleasure to award them The Order of The Condor of the Andes, Collar level. Master Sergeant McNeil, I award you The Order of the Condor of the Andes, Grand Cross level. Warrant Officer Shamrock, I award you with The Order of the Condor of the Andes, Grand Officer level. This is awarded in recognition for exceptional merit, either civil or military, shown by Bolivians or foreign nationals."
"Thank you," Brose replied. "This is a great honor. I'll wear it with pride."
"Believe me, after what your raid revealed to us, this is a mere token of our appreciation," President Morales spoke. "It is our intention to reveal the role the US had in uprooting the Nazis. We will not reveal your name, only say that an elite force of US soldiers conducted the initial raid. I will tell the nation that the US had forewarned me of the operation but due to corruption in the Bolivian Government and military, I kept the raid secret until it began. It will allow me to save face while enabling me to root out the corruption so keeping secrets will not be necessary."
At that point the group was dismissed. They headed back into the ante room.
"President Morales has already begun to purge the military and civilian government employees who had links to the Nazis," Gen. Hall explained. "Most are being dismissed from their positions but a few of the higher rank will be placed on trial for treason. The most important thing is he has the support of the citizens. They're embarrassed he could not trust their military and civilian government to keep the raid secret."
"Make sure the Butt Kickers are prepared," Col. Harris added. "As President Morales stated, the Nazis are aware the Cat struck them. Those who escaped the crackdown are determined to take you down. We're working on a plan to use you and the Butt Kickers as bait to draw them out of hiding. I'll approve expanding the Butt Kickers by ten people, half emerged and soldiers. We'll keep you informed of our plans and you will have input on the operation. For now, add the new members and train."
"Yes sir," Brose replied as she saluted.
During the flight back to The Center, Brose mulled over what she'd been told. After a few moments she decided to consult with her second in command, Msg. McNeil.
"Glenn, I'd like to discuss what Col. Harris told us," she spoke up. "I've been giving it some thought and would like to get your input."
"I've been thinking about it too," McNeil acknowledged.
"I'm not happy about using the Butt Kickers as bait," Brose began. "Personally, I don't mind being the bait, but I feel guilty for dragging the unit into the vendetta. I'll let everyone know and allow anyone to transfer out if they are not comfortable being bait."
"Brose, I don't think anyone will bug out," McNeil smiled. "They'll appreciate your honesty and offer to bail, but they are devoted to you. We all knew you were a formidable fighter, but you proved you're a good unit leader. Even being wounded didn't slow you down. All of us are wondering how you managed to hike out with that bullet lodged in your thigh."
"I'm not sure how I did it," Brose acknowledged. "But I've got tremendous stamina and determination. I try not to worry about how I'm going to do something, I just do it."
"I can't argue with that," McNeil nodded.
"I want to round out the team," Brose smiled. "In Sunny, Shadow, Blaze, and Snow, the Clover quads, we have a photokinetic, umbrakinetic, pyrokinetic and cryokinetic who could boost each other. In Giana and River, the McGuire cousins, we have a geokinetic and hydrokinetic. Tricia Dallas is an electrokinetic, Emo Kirk a projecting empath and Windy Sky an aerokinetic.
If I can convince some of the emerged rescued from the Nazis to join us we can add Dominic Patrick, a dominator; Casperia Taft, a ghost (who was quite naturally called Casper); Damalis Yoder, a damper; Bonnie Rice, a reikikinetic; and Putin Beam, a technopath. Those talents would round out our team and add to our strength."
"They most certainly would," McNeil agreed. "I think they'll jump at the chance to join the Butt Kickers. Only Bonnie and Putin have not had military training so we shouldn't have too much difficulty getting them up to speed."
"True, but we'll have to get all five qualified on weapons," Brose said. "They were not allowed much weapons practice. The Nazis were too afraid of them to arm them. What areas of expertise would be best to add from the soldier side?"
"Well, I'm a Special Forces Engineer," McNeil said. "Cpl. Kalif Habaz is a Ranger Interpreter/Translator, fluent in Arabic. Cpl. Jordon Michael is a Ranger Pathfinder. Pfc. Karen Loose is a Motor transport Operator. Sgt. Jerry High is a Special Forces Communications Specialist. Pfc. Carlos Molina is a Ranger Interpreter/Translator, fluent in Spanish. Cpl. Janet Hills is a Ranger Mountain Warfare Specialist. Sgt. Dwayne Lincoln is a Special Forces Engineer. Pfc. Mandy Patterson is a Ranger Small Weapons Specialist. Sgt. Kevin Hoyle is a Special Forces Weapons Specialist. I think we should add a Ranger Pathfinder, another Spanish speaking Ranger Interpreter/translator, another Ranger Mountain Warfare Specialist, a Ranger Scout and a Special Forces Medical Sergeant."
"That sounds like a good mix," Brose said. "We’ll need to train hard to integrate the new members. I've already sent a message ahead to the Butt Kickers that as soon as we get back to The Center, we'll hold a meeting. I'll give everyone their Bronze Star and let everyone know what's going down. We'll let the soldiers know what specialists we want to add so they can volunteer to join the Butt Kickers. Tomorrow start going through their military resumes to select the appropriate candidates. I'll speak to the emerged we brought back and explain I've been authorized to add five more to the Butt Kickers."
The Butt Kickers were eager to discover what happened in Washington. Brose and Msg. McNeil sent a message for them to meet them in the student cafeteria since the two had been airborne during the evening meal. When they arrived at the cafeteria, they found the Butt Kickers, Kristyn, Max, Ms Fine and Major Baker along with all the students, soldiers and staff gathered.
“I’ve asked everyone here to short circuit the rumor mill,” Kristyn began. “Warrant Officer Shamrock and Master Sergeant McNeil just returned from the Pentagon. President Morales of Bolivia wanted to meet them. Will the Butt Kickers please step forward.”
No one was sure what was going on and waited with baited breath as the Butt Kickers formed a line.
“Warrant Officer Shamrock and Master Sergeant McNeil, please step forward so you can present your troops with their awards,” Kristyn stated. “On behalf of the people of Bolivia, President Morales has awarded The Order of The Condor of the Andes, Collar level, to each member of the Butt Kickers.”
“Master Sergeant McNeil was awarded The Order of the Condor of the Andes, Grand Cross level,” Kristyn spoke as Brose and McNeil went down the line presenting the award and shaking hands. “Warrant Officer Shamrock was awarded The Order of the Condor of the Andes, Grand Officer level. These are awarded in recognition for exceptional merit, either civil or military, shown by Bolivians or foreign nationals."
Everyone applauded.
“For the Butt Kicker’s actions in destroying the terrorist base in Bolivia and freeing the prisoners,” Kristyn stated. “Each member of the unit is awarded the Global War on Terrorism Expeditionary Medal. It recognizes military service members who have deployed overseas in direct service to the War on Terror. In addition, the US Army has awarded Bronze Stars to each member,” Kristyn continued as Brose and McNeil began to pass out these awards. “Master Sergeant McNeil has been awarded the Silver Star.”
Everyone once again applauded.
“Warrant Officer Shamrock received several awards for her activities on previous assignments as well as for the Bolivian mission,” Kristyn added. “For her actions during the terrorist attack in New Jersey, The United States Army presented her with the badge for expert marksman including the component bars that indicate the specific weapons for which she qualified: Rifle, Pistol and Auto Rifle. Next was the Combat Infantryman Badge awarded to soldiers who personally fought in active ground combat while an assigned member of a Special Forces unit of brigade size or smaller. Because she was wounded in that action against an enemy of the United States she also earned a Purple Heart. Lastly, the National Defense Service Medal was awarded for service on active duty during service in the War on Terrorism.”
Everyone applauded as Brose blushed.
“For her actions in the school rescue mission and subsequent airport terrorist attacks,” Kristyn continued. “She was awarded the Air Assault Badge and the Military Freefall Parachutist Badge as a high altitude parachute specialist also called HALO Wings. Because she was wounded in that action she earned an Oak Leaf Cluster for her Purple Heart. Finally, she was awarded a Silver Star, the third-highest military decoration that can be awarded to a member of the United States Army for valor in the face of the enemy.”
The crowd once more applauded as Brose turned bright red.
“For her actions in Bolivia,” Kristyn announced. “Because she was again wounded in action she’s earned a second Oak Leaf Cluster for her Purple Heart. We all hope she stops earning these oak leaf clusters.”
Everyone chuckled as Brose bit her lips.
“Last, Warrant Officer Shamrock was awarded The Distinguished Service Cross, the second highest military decoration that can be awarded to a member of the United States Army, for extreme gallantry and risk of life in actual combat with an armed enemy force,” Kristyn stated as she began to applaud.
By this time Brose was near tears.
“Now, the kitchen staff has baked cakes and has everything set up for ice cream sundaes,” Kristyn smiled. “Everyone, please enjoy our thank you party for the Butt Kickers!”
Nearly everyone shook hands with the Butt Kickers. The praise flowed and the Butt Kickers demurred. But everyone enjoyed the cake and ice cream.
*****
"What I have to say is quite serious so please pay attention," Brose began the next morning when the Butt Kickers met. "We know two Nazi emerged and some of the fanatic adult Nazis were not in Bolivia. A few diehards managed to avoid capture. They have 'safe' locations to gather during emergencies, but the locations were never written down. It was all verbally communicated. They've gone to ground and we don't know where they are or how many of them survived. We know they didn't like The Center and they especially hated 'The Cat' before we raided La Cruz. As you know, I identified myself just before we blew La Cruz. They want vengeance against The Center but especially 'The Cat'. The powers that be want the Nazis. After what I saw they did to those prisoners, I want the Nazis. I think you feel the same way."
Brose continued after everyone nodded their agreement. "One possible plan is to use 'The Cat' as bait to draw the Nazis out of hiding. Once we narrow down their location, if possible we would go into the area on a 'different' mission. Airborne troops will be ready to come to our aid but we'll have to hold out until relieved. It will be extremely dangerous as we may not know when or how they'll attack. Because of this, I've been authorised to allow any member of the Butt Kickers to transfer out. Your record will be clean."
The group exchanged looks and head nods, then turned back to Brose and McNeil. "We're staying," the quads spoke as one for the entire group.
"Thank you," Brose smiled. "We were confident you would but had to give you the option. Now, I've been authorized to add ten people to the unit. I have an idea who I want from the emerged and Msg. McNeil will be reviewing files to select appropriate soldiers. For now, just keep your skills sharp. We'll begin intensive training when the expanded roster is filled."
With the meeting over everyone dispersed. Brose headed back to her room. While she no longer took part in regular school classes, she was being home schooled via computer, moving at her own pace. She was actually ahead of those who took regular classes.
After lunch she called a meeting with the ten emerged they'd rescued from Bolivia.
"Thank you for coming," Brose began. "For half of you, this meeting will be short. I've been authorized to expand the Butt Kickers. I need five emerged and I'd like them to come from you. Unfortunately, I'm looking for certain skills to round out the Butt Kickers so some of you will be left out. I feel I owe it to you to be honest so I've asked all of you here so you will not feel I've rejected you. Since the Butt Kickers already have an aerokinetic, an electrokinetic, an empath and a pyrokinetic, that eliminates Michael, Mindy, Elaine, and Edwin. Natalie, while your talent is important, for a first strike unit it is not a priority. Again, I didn't want you to feel slighted by not selecting you, but the good of the unit must come first. If openings become available for your talents, I will ask you. Unfortunately, what I have to say to the others is confidential, so thank you for coming, you can go back to what you were doing."
Brose waited until they left. "I want to add your talents to the Butt Kickers. Membership in the Butt Kickers is voluntary. It also entails becoming a Private First Class in the US Army. As a first strike unit, we undoubtedly will face life threatening situations. You already know what we experienced in Bolivia. You know what we did and how we operate and I've gotten to know you. You are my first choice in each of your talents. You do not have to accept my offer to join the Butt Kickers. No one will think less of you and it will not be recorded in your record. If you'd like to walk away, please do so. The unit can not afford to have anyone who is not fully committed. Take a fifteen minute break and talk it over. If you want to opt out, simply don't come back after the break. Does anyone have any questions before we take the break?"
"I do," said Dominic. "Are the Butt Kickers going to hunt down the Nazis who escaped?"
"I can't give out any details," Brose replied. "But they will be on our radar."
They all nodded their heads. Since there were no more questions they took the break.
"I'm joining,” Dominic said as they got something to drink. "They'll be going after the Nazis. After what they did to us, I want some payback."
"I do to," Damalis said. "But if you go into a fight with vengeance on your mind, you tend to get sloppy. Beside, I don't know if I want to risk dying."
"If we're in the Butt Kickers, we won't get sloppy," Bonnie declared. "Brose drives them hard and they train hard. I have no doubts our thoughts of vengeance will be well tempered by disciplined training. Brose will not let us get sloppy. If anyone gets sloppy, it'll be the Nazis. They'll be out for vengeance. We'll kick their butts!"
Brose waited in the meeting room for the five to return. After sixteen minutes, she became nervous. She hadn't expected they all bug out. After eighteen minutes, she forlornly sighed, gathered her papers, and headed out. As soon as she opened the door, she saw the five snap to attention and salute. They were grinning. Brose chuckled. They'd gotten her.
Once settled back into the conference room, Brose began speaking. "Thank you for accepting my offer. Putin and Damalis, this will be tougher for you since you never had any military training. All of you will have to qualify with weapons. You'll be able to try different types and models and select what you're comfortable using. You saw what the other Butt Kickers carry. They don't go overboard like I do. Just remember, what ever weapons you select will be what you'll use to attack or defend. You'll also have to carry enough ammunition to function for missions. The staff in the armory is quite knowledgeable about all weapons and munitions. They can answer any questions you might have. They'll also assist you with body armor. Let's head down to the firing range. Mr. Weiss has a variety of weapons prepared for you to try out. We'll see what we can do."
When they arrived at the firing range, Brose introduced everyone and explained that the five were the newest members of the Butt Kickers. Mr. Weiss understood what that meant. Laid out on a long table were a variety of hand guns, rifles and everything in between. The first thing he did was explain fire arm safety. Brose left as Mr. Weiss taught the basics. By supper time, all had tried out each weapon. Tomorrow, they would begin narrowing down their selections to their personal choices.
Brose headed to the office to begin the procedure to have the newbies enlisted in the Army and the Butt Kickers. When she was done, she joined McNeil as he reviewed the files of the soldiers who had volunteered to join the unit. He'd already narrowed the choices. Together, they made the final selections. Sgt. Carol Dunham was a Special Forces Medical Sergeant, Pfc. Herb Stamos was a Ranger Pathfinder, Pfc. Enrique Hernandez was a Ranger Interpreter/translator fluent in Spanish, Pfc. Jorge Melendez was a Ranger Mountain Warfare Specialist, and Pfc. Kyle Smith was a Ranger Scout. McNeil would personally let them know tonight so they could make the necessary transfer arrangements.
The next morning, Brose checked in with the emerged technogeeks to review their progress in locating the escaped Nazi emerged. They had a lot of stale leads but nothing to indicate where they were or where they were heading. Brose spent the morning reviewing the data.
As she ate lunch she had an eureka moment. As soon as she finished she headed back to the intelligence department. But instead of looking at the dead leads on the Nazis, she used a secure computer to check out DEA records. Things began to fall into place but getting what she felt was there was beyond her capabilities. Frustrated, she contacted Kristyn and asked to speak with her.
“Thanks for seeing me,” Brose said as she entered Kristyn’s office. “I think I’ve found a way to locate the Nazi emerged but I’m too computer illiterate to check it out. I’ve found a lot of circumstantial hints, but I don’t know how to dig deeper.”
“If you have an idea, let’s hear it, it’s certainly more than anyone else has discovered,” Kristyn replied.
“We found evidence of drug smuggling on the planes the Nazi’s used. Not only the two I took out but also the ones that were impounded in Bolivia, Canada, and Mexico,” Brose explained. “I think the connection to the drug smuggling was more than casual. The drug cartels have distribution networks throughout the world that work under the radar because nothing is in writing. They have safe houses all over. Since the Nazis were working with the drug cartels, it occurred to me the Nazi undocumented safe havens could be those set up and operated by the cartels. It’s a successful operational network for moving drugs and money that also acts as an escape route for cartel personnel being hunted by the DEA. The people running the safe houses have nothing to do with the illicit activities other than to keep the location functioning as a safe house. If one site gets exposed, another quickly takes it’s place. I strongly suspect the Nazi emerged and diehard’s safe houses are the same as the cartels.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Kristyn said. “Head back to intel. I’ll call Major Hanover, our head of Military and DHS Intelligence and let him know I want him to set people to work on your idea. Show him what you have and let them run with it.”
Major Hanover was a bit embarrassed that no one in his department had thought of seeking out a connection between the drug cartel safe house network and the neo-Nazis. It just made so much sense. After thanking Brose he set the wheels in motion to connect the dots in the cartel drug system.
True to her word, Brose worked the five new emerged Butt Kickers. Brose was with them every step of their training, both on the weapons ranges and the obstacle courses as well as combat skill training. The new soldiers also integrated into the unit by training hard with the existing members. By the end of two weeks, they were melding as a thirty person unit.
For the third and fourth week Brose arranged for off site training near the Beta Site. The experiences in Bolivia had convinced Brose the unit needed to learn some white water and coastal rafting skills. They spent the first day learning basic terminology, equipment and safety. The second day was practice on a small lake. After that, they headed out on actual rivers. They trained through the first five of six grades of difficulty in white water rafting, ranging from simple to very dangerous and potential death or serious injuries. Grade 1 has very small rough areas and requires slight maneuvering, a very basic skill Level. Grade 2 has some rough water, some rocks, and requires some maneuvering needing basic paddling skill. Grade 3 has whitewater, small waves, maybe a small drop, but no considerable danger and requires significant maneuvering needing experienced paddling skills. Grade 4 has whitewater, medium waves, rocks, a considerable drop and sharp maneuvers are needed needing whitewater experience. Grade 5 has whitewater, large waves, large volume, possibility of large rocks and hazards, possibility of a large drop and requires precise maneuvering needing advanced whitewater experience. Class 6 rapids are considered to be so dangerous as to be effectively unnavigable on a reliably safe basis. Rafters can expect to encounter substantial whitewater, huge waves, huge rocks and hazards, and substantial drops that will impart severe impacts beyond the structural capacities and impact ratings of almost all rafting equipment. Traversing a Class 6 without serious injury or death is widely considered to be a matter of great luck or extreme skill. By the end of the second week of raft training, the unit was competent in handling white water.
*****
Brose’s suspicions about the cartel safe house system being the Nazi system proved true. When the researchers plugged in all the data they had accumulated tracing down leads on the fleeing Nazis, a cartel safe house was within a half mile. Their research also revealed the DEA did nothing about these safe houses. All the indicators pointed to corruption within the DEA that allowed the cartel system to function freely.
Part of the Butt Kicker’s training was to bring every unit member up to speed on parachute deployment, specifically HALO jumping. The unit spent two weeks taking advanced training in all aspects of this dangerous but exciting activity.
Four weeks after Brose made her suggestion about the cartel/Nazi link, evidence was pouring in. The Nazi emerged and adult fanatics were hiding out in Mexico. The strangle hold the cartels had on many locales allowed them to do almost anything they wanted. Many local Mexican officials and a lot of people in positions of authority in the federal government and military were on the cartel payroll. There was no way a military intervention could be staged.
Brose kept reviewing the information the intel unit was gathering on the where-abouts of the fugitive Nazis. Since everything they found pointed to the Mexican drug cartels, particularly the Sinaloa Cartel, as the ones who aided their escape from the US and Canada via their safe house network, they would know where the Nazis were hiding. A plan began to form in her mind to get the information. Accordingly, she asked to meet with Kristyn and Ms. Fine.
"Thank you for seeing me," Brose addressed them two days later. "I have an idea to nab the fugitive Nazis and their two emerged."
"It better not be too dangerous," Ms. Fine declared knowing how things with Brose usually ended.
"To start, no," Brose replied. "Later, most likely. But we'll cross that bridge when we get there. All we need to do now is to get the Sinaloa Cartel to tell us where the Nazi's are hiding."
"How do you suggest we do that," Kristyn smiled knowing how Brose seemed to sniff out paths others didn't see.
"The data we've been collecting on the cartels from the DHS, FBI, CIA, DEA, and the military revealed the safe house system the Nazis used to flee," Brose explained. "The safe houses they used were all part of the Sinaloa Cartel. Mining the same data, we should be able to trace the smuggling routes the Sinaloa Cartel is utilizing. We begin by pin pointing when and where the drugs are coming into the country, then use the spy satellites to watch the routes so we can pick up when someone is crossing the border. Once we establish how to do that, we expand the surveillance and hit every illegal border crossing. We anonymously turn the info over to locals to do the busts. At the same time, I visit an upper level Sinaloa Cartel member in the Federal Prisons. I tell them what we're doing and why so they can relay that info to the cartel leadership. I'll also let them know I'd like to speak to the cartel heads to discuss the Nazis and their location."
"To do that, the Butt Kickers would head down to Playas, New Mexico to take the training courses offered there," Brose continued. "The Butt Kickers can stay in the area practicing mountain and desert skills. Two days a week we'd be next to the border. The cartel leadership can meet us to negotiate while staying on their side of the border. That's a rough outline of my idea, which I'll flesh out as we go. Also, I’d like for the Butt Kickers to HALO jump into Playas in full combat gear, landing at least ten miles out in the mountains then hike in. It’d be a great practice as I have a feeling we’ll need to Halo jump to get to the Nazis."
"It might work," Kristyn agreed. "I'll give you and the Butt Kickers the authorization to do as you planned. Understand this is NOT authorization to go after the Nazis. Fighting would only be for self-defense. Any offensive action needs to be okayed by me."
"Understood," Brose agreed. "We'll get right on things."
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 8
The balance of power keeping the Mexican drug trafficking world in relative peace and stability came undone in 2005-2006. Plagued by infighting and power struggles, the Gulf and Tijuana cartels became weakened. The Sinaloa cartel, headed by Joaquan 'El Chapo' Guzman and Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada, began to make forays into the territories of the weakened cartels. In 2007, they began their campaign to wrest control of Juarez from Vicente Carrillo and sparked a bloody turf war.
The Sinaloa cartel is the oldest cartel in Mexico, and Chapo and Mayo are no fools. At 53 and 64, they have been in the drug business a long time. They are extremely powerful and managed to avoid the high profiles that ultimately have led to the demise of other cartel leaders during the past two decades. They are more organized, have been around longer and are seemingly smarter than any other group out there. Many believe, on both sides of the border, that the Sinaloa cartel has the tacit approval of the government, pointing to statistics showing that arrests of Juarez cartel members have been exponentially higher than that of Sinaloa Cartel members.
Looking at the history of the drug trade as a whole, periods of violence are always marked by a struggle for control between rival trafficking organizations. When territories or leadership aren't in dispute, the business simply chugs along without much need for violence, save the internal judicial murders that rule a trade ungoverned by conventional law. It's commonly accepted that no number of federal policemen, soldiers or public awareness is going to end the violence in Juarez. It would only end when one cartel wins, probably the Sinaloans.
This is where the Mexican government has to deal with the industry realistically. President Felipe Calderon and his entire administration know that the drug trade isn't going away. U.S. officials know it too. As long as there is a market for drugs in the U.S., there will be an industry to support the demand in Mexico. When that industry funnels tens of billions of dollars into the Mexican economy every year, through investments in business, the greasing of political palms and good old-fashioned trickle-down economics, it's hardly in Mexico's best interest to try to stamp it out.
However, there is the issue of public unrest. With over thirty thousand dead in Mexico since December 2006 the country is being ravaged by drug violence and the situation seems to be devolving. Why wouldn't it be in the government's best interest to go back to the days of peace in the cartel system? Why not help the situation along to its inevitable conclusion instead of dragging it out for everyone? The sooner the most powerful cartel establishes their dominance, the sooner the murders end, and the sooner everything can get back to normal. But as the force of protection for the people, you have to look like you're doing something about all this violence, you have to go after somebody. So why not selectively pursue the weaker cartel? It might seem like a bit of an exaggeration, but it's called realpolitik. Many have posited the eventuality of a Mexican megacartel, most likely the Sinaloa Cartel.
*****
Brose had Putin assist her as she researched where high level Sinaloa Cartel people were locked up in US Federal prisons. One man in particular appeared to be a likely intermediary for what Brose planned. In September 2010, forty year old Fernando Ontiveros-Arambula, a high-level lieutenant in the Sinaloa Cartel, was sentenced to life imprisonment and fined $100,000 on three federal drug charges in connection with a conspiracy to smuggle over one hundred tons of marijuana from Mexico into the United States. Testimony during the trial revealed that Ontiveros-Arambula was a high-level lieutenant in the Sinaloa cartel who fought with members of the Carrillo Fuentes Cartel for control of the Juarez drug-trafficking corridor.
Brose located the man and went to visit him. Quite naturally the Federal Bureau of Prisons was not eager to allow someone from outside the US Department of Justice access to such a high profile prisoner. The DEA wanted to make sure no deals would be cut to release the man. It took a lot of political jockeying to cut through the red tape to get Brose cleared for the visit. Fortunately, she wasn’t deeply involved in that aspect as she might have been tempted to pat her Desert Eagle to emphasize a point.
When he learned of the impending visit, Ontiveros-Arambula, an arrogant man, assumed he was going to meet high ranking officials who would get him quietly released in exchange for becoming a stoolie. The guards led him to a secure room without mirrors or cameras and removed his restraints so that seemed to confirm his thoughts of what was wanted. Little did he know the lengths Brose had to go to have unfettered and surveillance-less access. After he was waiting a few minutes there was a knock on the door and it opened. Needless to say he was quite surprised to see a teenage girl walk into the room alone. The fact she was wearing a be-medaled US Army dress uniform added to his confusion.
"Mr. Ontiveros-Arambula, I'm Warrant Officer Ambrosia Shamrock," Brose stated in a firm no-nonsense manner as she extended her hand.
Ontiveros-Arambula accepted the hand, then squeezed as hard as he could. The two maintained unblinking eye contact as they sized each other up. Brose didn't flinch while merely accepting his powerful grip as they shook hands. When she saw his pupils change size upon realizing his crushing grip was having no effect on her, she began to counter with pressure of her own. Even though he tried to suppress the pain, Ontiveros-Arambula held on but realized Brose was much stronger than she looked and was in fact toying with him. The understanding that this mere teenage girl could overpower him gave him serious concerns.
“Now that we understand each other better," Brose stated as she relaxed and broke the handshake. "We can get down to business. Please, let's sit and talk."
Ontiveros-Arambula was now quite wary of this young girl and did as she suggested.
"I'd like this to be informal," Brose stated as she flashed a genuine smile. "So please call me Brose."
"Okay, Brose," Ontiveros-Arambula declared deciding to play nice. "You can call me Fernando."
"Thank you," Brose smiled. "I assume you heard about the raid into Bolivia that destroyed the Nazi's and AZIF. I led the unit that took out their underground base in the mountains. They called me The Cat."
Fernando's eyebrows rose. He had indeed heard about the attack and The Cat. But this girl was much to young to have led the attack... wasn't she? Then he recalled that the Nazis always had a teenager with them. He'd heard they had mutant powers. "Are you one of those mutants like the Nazis have?"
"I'm not at liberty to confirm that," Brose replied. "But you are free to draw your own conclusions."
Fernando smiled. He liked this girl, not only was she nice to look at, she was feisty as well. "I understand," he nodded. "What do you want from me and what are you offering?"
"We're offering you a chance to help the Sinaloa Cartel," Brose replied. "We don't want you to reveal any information. We simply want to use you as a conduit to set up a meeting with your bosses. We have no interest in destroying the cartels but we will use my unit, the Butt Kickers, to convince your bosses they'd better talk to us. What we want is the Nazis... all of them. I want to finish the job I started. We know the Sinaloa Cartel was using the Nazis as couriers and allowed them access to the cartel safe house network to assist their escape. We know they're somewhere in Mexico regrouping under the protection of the Sinaloa Cartel. We'll start shutting down smuggling routes and nailing the mules. We'll only stop when they give up the Nazis. We're not asking them to deliver them to us. We simply want to know where they are so we can take them down with as little collateral damage as possible. That means we don't want to fight the Sinaloa Cartel foot soldiers protecting them. What we want is for them to simply step aside to let us do what we need to do. My unit will be spending the next several weeks in and around Playas, New Mexico. I'd like to meet with the cartel leaders at the border but not at a crossing. Someplace isolated and private along the New Mexican bootheel. They'd stay on the Mexican side of the border while we stay on ours. We'll be able to talk across the border. I've set up a secure comm link so they can reach me to set up a meeting. Here is the frequency. All we want from you is to pass this message on to the cartel leaders."
"That may not be an easy task," Fernando hmmmed. "What do I get out of it?"
"To live," Brose smiled. "We will get to the cartel leadership one way or another. This is the easiest and quickest method. I don't think you would be very well thought of once we do meet and I tell them you refused to pass the information on to them. They'll lose a lot more shipments if it takes a while for us to meet."
Fernando understood exactly what she meant. Other inmates could be ordered to exact revenge. With a nod he agreed to pass the message along. He’d also tell them this was not a joke and not to be fooled by the appearance of the US agents. For the first time, Fernando was almost glad he was locked up and wouldn’t have to face Brose in the field.
*****
Hildago County is in the boot heel of New Mexico. Mexican Federal Route 2 runs just one to two miles south of the US border in the area of the Arizona/New Mexico border. The border between the Mexican states of Sonora and Chihuahua butt against the New Mexican border about sixteen miles east Arizona. The sparsely populated area is a hot bed of drug cartel activity as well as a crossing point for illegal immigrants sneaking into the US. This mostly barren and desolate area had been the historic range of the Chiricahua Apache, the area where Geronimo fought the US and Mexican Armies. US Interstate 10 runs east to west between Las Cruces, New Mexico and Tucson, Arizona about sixty miles north of the border in the New Mexican boot heel.
There are three mount ranges running north to south in the boot heel. On the border with Arizona is the Guadalupe Mountains. In the east of the New Mexican boot heel are the Alamo Hueco Mountains adjacent to the border of Chihuahua state, Mexico and border the eastern side of the extensive north-south Playas Valley. The Playas valley widens as it crosses into Mexico and the Chihuahua desert. Running North to south in the center of the boot heel are the Animus Mountains. The Continental Divide of the Americas traverses these western perimeter mountains of the Playas Valley. About ten miles north of the Mexican Border the Animus Mountains split into two legs about five miles apart forming a rocky valley that joins the Chihuahua desert as it crosses the Mexican border. This international area is sparsely populated and fairly barren. The Chihuahua and Sonoran deserts enter the US here.
Antelope Wells is located on the US-Mexico border on the southern edge of the county in the Playas valley about ten miles east of the Sonora/Chihuahua border. Antelope Wells is a tiny unincorporated community located across the border from the small settlement of El Berrendo, Chihuahua, Mexico. The only inhabitants of the community are United States Customs and Border Protection employees. There are just four buildings: the port of entry building, two houses and a trailer. It is the smallest and least-used border crossing of the forty three ports of entry along the border with Mexico. The crossing is open solely for non-commercial traffic. It is the only port between Douglas, Arizona about sixty five miles due west, and Columbus, New Mexico about sixty five miles to the northeast. El Berrendo, with one resident, is in the Mexican state of Chihuahua, located directly across the U.S. border from Antelope Wells. Geographically, it is in the middle of the Chihuahua Desert.
Playas is a small unincorporated town situated in a remote desert valley forty miles north of the US/Mexico border. Playus is a modern ghost town once again in full bloom as a counter-terrorism training facility. Playas, named after a nearby former settlement along the Southern Pacific Railroad, was a company town for several hundred employees built in 1971 to support a nearby copper smelting operations located ten miles south of the town. The geographic location was ideal due to its isolation from populated areas sensitive to the toxic byproducts of ore smelting. After a brief life of only 28 years, the copper industry plummeted and the smelter’s location at the dead end of a long road became an unaffordable liability and was shut down. Playas contains 259 company-owned homes, a six building apartment complex with twenty five units, community center, community medical clinic, grocery store, a bowling alley, a bar, grill, a rodeo ring, a helicopter pad, a fitness center, a shooting range and a swimming pool were built as well as an air strip and has one thousand two hundred surrounding acres. At the smelter's closure in 1999; all of its residents were evicted within a year, though a skeleton crew of about a dozen employees remained in the area.
The town was purchased in 2004 by New Mexico Technical University (MNT), a science and engineering university that grew out of the New Mexico School of Mines. NMT has done military research for decades and has helped train thousands of police and firefighters. After the 1995 bombing of the federal courthouse in Oklahoma City, it began moving more toward anti-terrorism programs and ratcheted them up after Sept. 11, 2001. The Senate Homeland Security Appropriations subcommittee helped the university to obtain the funding from DHS to pay for the purchase of the town and for an operating budget for the first year of operations. The town is now a training and research facility for the university’s first responders and counter-terrorism programs, supported by tens of millions of dollars in federal funds.
The facility has multiple uses and users. The US Department of Defense works with foreign countries on joint anti-terrorist exercises. The U.S. Army and Tech's Energetic Materials and Testing Center conduct joint tests on new sensors that can be used outside a building to detect people, ammunition and weapons inside. The setting provides an ideal classroom to train police officers, firefighters and others in simulated terrorist attacks and other disasters. Trainers set up mock scenarios using Playas homes and buildings and fly airplanes and helicopters over the town. Course instructors are recognized worldwide as top explosives and WMD experts.
The transition from company town to terror town is not only unique, but geographically of interest. Such operations flourish when removed from the public arena. Regular explosions and mock raids designed to resemble biological, chemical, and/or radiological attacks are too provocative for populated areas.
*****
Six weeks after the raid in Bolivia, the Butt Kickers boarded a C-17 aircraft. Brose left her M107 and M26 kits behind to lighten her load. They left at dusk from Peterson Air Force Base located at Colorado Springs, Colorado. The four hundred mile flight took an hour. The flight was logged as a round trip training exercise and no one knew of the team aboard. Once they climbed above ten thousand feet, everyone in the cargo bay donned breathing masks as the area was left unpressurized. Thirty minutes from their drop point, the Butt Kickers began breathing pure oxygen to drive the nitrogen from their bodies. The two greatest hazards jumpers must contend with on high-altitude airdrop missions are hypoxia and decompression sickness. Decompression sickness, or the bends, occurs when nitrogen bubbles form in the blood and tissues after a rapid reduction in surrounding pressure. It's manifested by pain in the joints, and is potentially lethal.
In order for the Butt Kickers to stay together in freefall and once under parachute, they all had to weigh the same. This was accomplished via rucksacks containing their gear attached in front below the waist. The gear was portioned out to get everyone to the same weight. The gear was labeled for ease of being sorted and getting to the right person once they were safely on the ground.
The most hectic time was from the two-minute warning until the jump. The team switched over from the aircraft O2 supply to a small oxygen bottle they carried. They double and triple-checked their equipment, connections and bottle pressure and watched each other for symptoms and signs of hypoxia. They also activated a small red strobe light on the back of their helmets, then secured their face goggles in place and donned their insulated gloves. The interior lights switched to red just before the ramp began lowering and the Butt Kickers bunched up on the lowered ramp. When the jump light flashed green, Brose was the first out as they ran out the back of the big plane. It only took thirty seconds for them to exit with Msg. McNeil bringing up the rear to make sure everyone made it out in good order.
The thrill of free falling from was more than enough to overcome the fear of a night jump and the frigid air at that altitude. At 30,000 feet, the temperature was somewhere around thirty degrees below zero. Without oxygen at that height a person can expect to be usefully conscious about 30 seconds. About fifteen seconds after leaving the plane they had reached their terminal velocity of one hundred twenty five mph with arms and feet fully extended to catch the wind. With the wind chill, this created a temperature of minus eighty degrees. Using the red lights on the back of their helmets, they were easily able to form up staying about ten feet apart. They all had heavy duty illuminated altimeters and GPS indicators. The GPS was locked in on their selected landing site and arrows indicated the drop path while the distance was shown digitally.
The landing site had been chosen carefully. They chose a valley in the canyon between Zellers Peak to the north and Big Hatchet Peak to the south. The site was about ten miles south southeast of Playas. Zellers peak was about nineteen hundred sixty feet higher and a half mile horizontal from the canyon floor at the target in a north east direction. Big Hatchet Peak was about twenty nine hundred feet higher and a mile horizontal from the target site in an almost due south direction. The target site was about a hundred feet east to west and seventy five feet north to south sloping gently downhill. It was the only area that was not dotted with the scrub brush typical of the hills and mountain slopes of the northern Chihuahua desert. As such, it was lighter than the surrounding brush dominated area and would be visible as they neared the site.
They fell for a bit over two minutes. Their HALO parachutes automatically opened at an altitude of three thousand feet above the ground. As soon as they were stabilized, they made sure no one was below them, then pulled the quick-releases to drop the rucksack on a ten foot lanyard cord. The rucksack hitting the ground would give them a split second notice before they too were down. By the time they dropped their rucksacks, they were already below the height of Big Hatchet Peak heading into the canyon.
As they planned, the drop zone was clearly distinguishable from the surrounding area. All managed to land safely inside the target. After gathering up their chutes and shrugging off their jump harnesses, they slipped off their rugged ankle reinforced jump boots and windproof jumpsuits. In less than five minutes, they had gathered and were dispersing their gear. Once that was done, they hid the gear they no longer needed.
The staff in Playas had been told to expect a land based training assault by a crack military unit within a forty eight hour period. In addition to the Playas staff, there were over a hundred military and law enforcement personnel on site undergoing training. All had been told to treat the assault as a terrorist attack. As such, they had set up spotters and were using up to date surveillance equipment to monitor the area. They expected the attack to come from the north or east as that was where the nearest roads were located. New Mexico Route 9 ran roughly east to west about four miles north of Playas. New Mexico Route 81 ran south from the town of Hachita on NM 9 about eight miles east of Playas. The Playas Mountains ran north to south between NM81 and Playas. County roads ran through the western approaches to Playas and provided access to the town. While it was five miles open desert valley, there were numerous small rises and gullies. All approach routes had been rigged with surveillance devices from infrared to regular cameras and motion sensors.
The Butt Kickers moved out by midnight. They headed down the canyon and out into the desert, moving west. They traveled two miles in forty five minutes, crossed NM 81, then followed dirt roads west another two miles. Staying on the roads they turned north traveling six miles to reach the abandoned copper ore processing site by 0300 hours. From here they traveled north on smelter road for seven miles to a side lane called Gravel Pit Road heading to the north east. The lane ended in a wash after a mile, with the gravel pit obviously being the gravel washed down from the Playas Mountains. The sky was beginning to brighten by the time they reached the wash. The unit settled into the shrubs at the sides of the wash to rest until full light. Putin set up a specially designed main transmitter/receiver base linked to a satellite that could be accessed, activated and programmed by hand held satellite communications devices they carried.
Once the sun was up, they leisurely ate breakfast before slowly moving up the wash with Casper leading the way. She slipped into ghost mode and stayed about a hundred feet ahead of the main unit looking for remote sensors utilizing a Center designed counter surveillance device. A small vibrating transmitter detector silently alerted her to any frequency producing device, instantly alerting her when a transmitter was detected. The device could detect frequency ranges of one MHZ to ten point five GHz with a range of fifty feet. Once detected, an extremely sensitive frequency counter automatically locked-on the frequency of any transmitter in the vicinity and immediately revealed its location and operating frequency. This device was instantly able to locate all motion sensing, audio and video surveillance transmitters.
When she found one, she would copy the frequency and it’s monitoring broadcast onto a Center designed satellite communication/signal jamming device. By connecting upward to a satellite they avoided interference with any nearby transmissions and also avoided detection by frequency detectors. From the satellite they linked to the device Putin had set up as they entered the wash. The frequency and broadcast Casper had detected and intercepted would be sent to that main device. Once the device replied it had the info, pressing a button on the detector Casper held would activate the base transmitter to duplicate what the surveillance device was sending. A split second later another device Casper carried would send out a jamming signal with a range of fifty feet to block the surveillance device. Once blocked, Casper headed fifty feet onward to make sure there were no nearby devices. Then Putin would come forward to disable the device without those monitoring it any the wiser. They discovered three motion detectors and one camera capable of infrared or regular vision in the mile they traveled up the wash.
At that point they headed up a side wash for another mile, finding no surveillance devices. Upon reaching Little Hatchet Mountain Road they took a break. At this point they were in the Playas Mountains two miles southeast of Playas and a half mile south west of Playas Peak. Playas Peak was six hundred fifty feet above the desert valley and offered a mostly unobstructed view of the desert floor. The wash the Butt Kickers followed was close enough from the valley center to be hidden by a lower hundred and sixty feet high ridge.
Little Hatchet Mountain Road wound around the base of Playas Peak so was inside the area the look-outs on the top were watching. At 1100 hours the Butt Kickers boldly formed up in columns of two and brazenly hiked one mile up the road straight into Playas in plain view of the entire town. As the Butt Kickers hoped, everyone assumed they were simply a unit already in Playas.
Once into town they continued marching in top military form right up to the main plaza where the offices and main buildings were located. They split up, timing their entries to simultaneously enter each building. The guards inside, where there were guards, were caught completely flat footed. The plaza was secured before any word of the assault could be spread.
Needless to say, everyone was quite stunned. The Butt Kickers, playing their role as terrorists, had simply walked into the main training base for combating terrorist attacks and taken the place without firing a shot when they had been alerted to expect an attack! The Butt Kickers refused to reveal how they had gotten past the surveillance devices but did show them the route they took to arrive on site.
For the next two weeks they took the military and DHS courses offered. The abandoned houses in Playas were used for training in assaulting villages. They learned the ins and outs of house to house combat as well as hostage rescue techniques. The instructors were slightly amused by the unit's name and curious about the young age of half the unit and by their leader but impressed by the cohesiveness and skills the unit exhibited. That they already had combat experience surprised them. In the training final exam, the Butt Kickers blew through the exercise in record time with no casualties and successfully rescued the faux hostages unharmed. Of course, during the training, the Butt Kickers didn't use their talents. During the test, they did. The staff began to understand that the Butt Kickers had earned their name. It was only after the final that the staff was informed that the Butt Kicker's were the unit that had single-handedly taken out the neo-Nazi base in Bolivia. The level of respect the Butt Kickers were shown rose dramatically.
The Butt Kickers announced they were going to do mountain and desert training in the area and would be using Playas as their base. As they were no longer on-site incognito, they knew the staff would talk about the skilled unit. The drug cartels kept paid informants in the areas around the base to keep track of base activities to insure the drug smuggling operations didn't cross paths with a training exercise. The word that the Butt Kickers were there doing mountain and desert training would quickly make it's way through the cartels to the bitter vengeance seeking remnants of the neo-Nazis and their two emerged, which is exactly what was wanted. In addition, the Mexican Government was informed that an anti-terrorist unit was training in the boot heel area and that brief overland incursions into Mexico would be part of the training. The idea was the unit would move into Mexico and test the US border at different locations in the area. The tests would not only be for possible terrorist incursions into the US but also drug smuggling and illegal immigration interdictions. Naturally the Mexicans were not happy with the infringement of their sovereignty but at the same time they could not protest that they had the area under their control as the cartels held sway over the local governments. Reluctantly they agreed to the 'tests'. Again, this was done with the knowledge the cartel informants in the Mexican government and military would get the word to the cartels and thus the neo-Nazis. The bait was set and dangling before the quarry.
For the first week after completing the courses, the Butt Kickers trained in the Alamo Hueco Mountains and desert south of Playas about five miles north and west of the eastern corner of the boot heel border with Mexico. Several times they crossed the border into Mexico and back within a few hours to get familiar with the procedure. The intelligence unit back at the Beta Site monitored the spy satellite data. Since the Butt Kickers carried ID beacons, their real time GPS positions were known. The intelligence people used that data to search the satellite data to discern and then determine the tell tale signatures of individuals in the barren arid region. By the end of the week they were able to trace the Butt Kickers without using the GPS. They also discovered the spies the cartels had in place watching the Butt Kickers and were able to trace their movements from the satellites. As hoped, this soon morphed to the point they spotted the movements of the drug smugglers and illegal immigrants. The Beta Site forwarded the information through the DHS who passed it on to local law enforcement personnel, New Mexican State Police and Border Control Agents who were then dispatched to the real time locations of those who had illegally crossed the border. Soon every illegal crossing into New Mexico was intercepted. Once that was happening, the technique was enlarged to include the entire US/Mexican Border.
The results were stunning. Everyone wondered about the source of the information. All the cartels lost valuable drug shipments and the illegal immigrants were bundled back to Mexico. The Sinaloa Cartel alone knew the crack-down was due to the Butt Kickers and now they had ample reason to also want the Butt Kickers taken down.
*****
The border area the Butt Kickers were training was in the Sinaloa Cartel controlled region. While all the cartels knew the strength and determination of the Bolivian Nazis, to have one small unit take them out on their home turf seemed unbelievable. They were well aware the surviving Nazis wanted revenge at any cost. The Nazis were making themselves major pain in the butts as they fumed and trained in the hidden cartel base in Mexico. The fact the Butt Kickers showed up along the border and almost immediately the drug shipments passing into the US in that area were all being seized could not be a coincidence. All the cartels understood the threat posed by the Butt Kickers.
The initial reaction of the Sinaloa leadership to the sudden interdictions was to attack the Butt Kickers. They now understood the message that had been passed to them by Fernando Ontiveros-Arambula. The Sinaloa Cartel’s enforcers were set up to intimidate and used brutal but quick raids to get what they wanted. While effective thugs and street fighters, they were not trained soldiers. There was no way they could expect to take on the Butt Kickers and win.
*****
The Butt Kickers knew they were having an effect on the drug smuggling and illegal immigrants. They slowly moved their border training west. By the end of the second week in the desert, they were in the White Water Mountains. They let it be known in Playas they would be in the southern tip of the Animus Mountains and San Luis Mountains of Mexico in the Sonora/Chihuahua border region for the next few weeks.
One thing the quads discovered during this time was that one of their favorite treats, Pixie Stix, gave them an almost instantaneous power boost restoring their depleted energy reserves after prolonged use of the talents. The other kinetics tried Pixie Stix with the same results. The almost pure flavored sugar replenished their energy but it was only a short term boost that needed to be repeated.
The Butt Kickers relayed this discovery to the scientists at The Center who immediately began to check it out. Using on site kinetic volunteers they performed experiments. They found the sugar boost did amp up and restore used kinetic power, but the recharge only lasted for a few hours. An additional Pixie Stix fix lasted for a shorter length of time than the first and there was a bit of a crash with the second use. Each successive Pixie Stix fix lasted shorter and the crashes were deeper. They found they could overcome the crash by promptly taking another Pixie Stix hit at the first sign of a crash. They discovered they could go three to four days eating normal field rations before the Pixie Stix boosts began draining vital nutrition from their bodies. Eventually, they had to pig out on normal food to keep them from winding up in the infirmary. The discovery was welcomed and soon every kinetic was carrying Pixie Stix on away missions.
The Butt Kickers melded into a smooth unit during the weeks of intense training. The new emerged members may not have had actual combat experience, but they were thoroughly trained to fight. They were ready for battle. The Butt Kickers established a routine of conducting training exercises to hone their skills.
Every Tuesday they were in the Whitewater Mountains two miles west of the Antelope Wells border crossing. The Whitewater Mountains split in two legs just north of the border. The west leg ends about a quarter mile into Mexico while the east leg ends about three quarters of a mile into Mexico. An arm of the Chihuahua desert projects north from Mexico between the arms for a half mile and about half a mile wide with a reservoir known as the Boggs Defeat Tank. A few smaller individual hills rose up about a mile or two south of the border that served to hide the Boggs Defeat Tank area from view. This would be an ideal location near roads yet hidden out of the way in a mostly barren desolate area. The mountains and canyons surrounding the desert valley soared up to nine hundred fifty feet above the valley floor.
After nearly four weeks, they saw a pick-up driving slowly across the desert having left Mexico Federal (MF) Route 2 a mile south of the border just after it emerged from the highway’s canyon crossing of the San Luis Mountains. It drove north to the border and stopped about a hundred feet short. Pfc. Molina and Brose climbed into one of their Humvees and headed to the border. They stopped about a hundred feet short. Both exited the vehicle and began walking south. Two men left the pickup and began walking north. All four were armed.
The four stopped about ten feet from the border vehicle barricade. The barricade was made of heavy 'X' shaped legs with heavy cross braces parallel to the ground connecting them, somewhat akin to those faced by the Allies during the Normandy invasion. The barrier was about four feet wide and three feet high. About five feet beyond the barricade was the rusted remains of a barbed wire fence ranchers had installed to keep their cattle from crossing into Mexico. The Mexicans spent a few moments sizing up Brose, especially the big Desert Eagle holstered on her kevlar vest.
“My Spanish is not the best,” Brose began. “But Pfc. Molina speaks it fluently. I’m Warrant Officer Shamrock. The Nazi’s call me The Cat.”
One man nodded. “I am Carlotto Geurro. We were told we’d find The Cat here,” he said in English with a Spanish accent. “El Chapo is not happy.”
The other man was fingering his AK47, obviously itching to use it.
“With good reason,” Brose smiled. “But we can easily end his sadness.”
“Obviously you have found a way to discover our efforts,” Carlotto stated coolly. “Do you really expect us to believe you’ll stop if we give up the Nazis?”
“I give you my word,” Brose declared. “It is the people I work for who have figured out how to track you. We are feeding the information anonymously to the local police to make the busts. If you check each hit, at no time was the DEA or any other Federal agency involved. No one knows where the information is coming from. When we get the Nazi’s we stop the info flow.”
“Yes, but you’ll show the other agencies what you do,” Carlotto declared.
“We will not,” Brose replied. “They refused to give us information when we requested it. We had to steal it from the DEA, the FBI, the CIA, and the DHS. If we reveal what we’re doing, we’ll get burned.”
Carlotto smiled. “Now that I can believe. What do you want us to do?”
“I want to meet with Mr. Guzman and Mr. Zambada to discuss the details,” Brose brazenly declared. “With a promise of safe conduct, I will allow myself to be searched for tracking devices and communicators, blindfolded, and taken to the meeting wherever they feel safe. I’ll cross the border here and your people can take me where you will.”
Carlotto smirked. “Ah, but are you not one of those mutants the Nazis use?”
“No,” Brose replied. “I am nothing like those mutants. I will not deny I have unique abilities, but I am not a brainwashed fanatic. I do not lie. My word is good. If you know of the mutants, you also know their range is limited. Place a bomb on me with the operator out of range. Have a camera watch me so he can see what I do. If I try to harm anyone, kill me.”
“Then we face retribution,” Carlotto declared.
“If we wanted to fight you, we would have done so already,” Brose answered. “I want to talk to Mr. Guzman and Mr. Zambada so we avoid unnecessary bloodshed. We want the Nazi’s not the Sinaloa Cartel. Besides, even if we do not give our detection methods to others, now that it’s been done, others will search for the method. I will reveal how we tracked you.”
“The US has been fighting this war on drugs for over fifty years,” Carlotto replied. “By revealing your method you will betray your government. Do you expect us to believe you will do this?”
“You know as well as I do there is corruption in the agencies conducting this so called war on drugs,” Brose declared flatly. “You know they could be doing a lot more to stop the flow of drugs. There are those who use the chaos the illegal drug markets create to stay in power. To me, they are the enemy in the war on drugs, not you. You are businessmen earning a living. Granted, I don’t like the business, but I respect your entrepreneurship. You are merely fulfilling a demand. The key is to stop or at least control the demand, not the drug flow. Eventually, the people of the US will realize that like Prohibition, outlawing illegal drugs will never work as long as there is a demand for them. Eventually, they will be legalized. When that happens, what will happen to the cartels? I wish to talk of this as well as the Nazis.”
Carlotto grinned broadly. “El Chapo wondered what you really wanted. You want to be the cartel in the US controlling the drugs. With your fellow mutants, I think this could be done. I will talk to El Chapo. We’ll be back next week. Be ready to come with us if El Chapo agrees.”
“I understand,” Brose replied. “Tell Mr. Guzman and Mr. Zambada I look forward to meeting them.”
The four parted company. The Butt Kickers were not happy with Brose’s plan but acknowledged it was probably the only way to get to see the bosses of the Sinaloa Cartel. That night Brose reported her progress. Ms Fine was not at all happy to learn Brose offered to be escorted to the drug lords. Kristyn was not happy with the idea, but understood it was a necessary risk and over-ruled Ms Fine.
The next Tuesday, Brose and Pfc. Molina were waiting at the border. This time the Sinaloa people sent an SUV. The same two men stepped out accompanied by a tough looking woman. Brose waited as they approached the border.
"El Chapo is anxious to meet you," Carlotto stated. "Step behind our SUV so you can be searched... strip searched."
Brose didn't hesitate. She slipped off her vest, equipment and weapons. With speed and agility that surprised her soon to be wardens, Brose stepped back until she was thirty feet from the vehicle barrier. Then she sprinted to the border barricade and jumped. Not only did she clear the vehicle barricade, she cleared the old barbed wire fence on the other side. The Mexicans just gaped at her as she landed on her feet.
The woman took Brose behind the SUV where she conducted a full body strip search. The woman, Angelina Rivera, was fluent in English so Brose was easily able to follow her instructions. She would be escorting Brose during the trip. When the search was completed, she allowed Brose to put on her underwear but gave her a jogging suit to wear while her clothes were bundled together. Within minutes they were heading towards MF Route 2, heading west once they reached it. About forty miles later they drove into Agua Prieta, the next Border crossing to the West of Antelope Wells at Douglas, Arizona.
Here they pulled into a large building. Upon arriving the cartel tech people scanned Brose for hidden devices but found nothing. While they were doing this, Angelina went to get some clothes that fit Brose. She came back with a knee length skirt, sandals, and a peasant blouse. Angelina had changed into a similar outfit. The clothes were suitable for an informal meeting. The fatigues and boots Brose had worn when she crossed the border were stored here.
As Brose suspected, there were dozens of vehicles coming and going from the building. Soon, they were in another SUV heading south on MF Route 17. About one hundred ninety miles later they reached the city of Hermosillo where they switched vehicles again and headed south west on MF Route 15. They traveled about two hundred miles before they stopped for the night in the city of Ciudad Obregon. The next morning they drove south for about Four hundred miles toward the resort town of Mazatlan on the Pacific Coast.
During the trip, Brose treated her wardens with respect and they reciprocated. They attempted to get as much information as they could about her mission and mutants. Brose neither confirmed nor denied their questions about the mutants. When they asked about her mission, she simply repeated what she had said the week before.
It was dark by the time they reached their destination, a secure compound near the sea about forty kilometers north of Mazatlan. They set Brose up in a decent room and provided another set of clothes. The trip had been long and tiring.
The next morning, Brose was escorted to a dining patio for breakfast with Joaquan 'El Chapo' Guzman and Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada, the heads of the Sinaloa Cartel. They made polite conversation as they sized each other up.
Brose felt a tingling in her brain. Someone was trying to probe her mind! She followed the probe back to the source. A nervous teen was hiding in the hacienda inside the nearest window. The Sinaloa Cartel had emerged!
"Gentlemen, please, your 'mutant' will not be able to probe my emotions," Brose smiled. "For the record, we don't like to be described as 'mutants. The preferred term is 'emerged’. He is standing just inside that window, hiding, which can't be comfortable. Why not invite him outside to join us?"
It was clear she'd surprised them. No one had ever discovered their mutant, not even the Nazi emerged they had probed.
"One of my abilities is to detect any effort to probe or attack my mind or emotions and to block it," Brose explained. “Please, let him join us."
"Jose, the young lady would like you to join us," Guzman called out.
A few minutes passed as the men cautiously eyed Brose until Jose arrived. El Chapo signaled the wait staff to add another place at the table as a shy well built handsome teen tentatively appeared at the door.
Brose struggled to keep her emotions in check as she felt her body respond to the young man. With his wavy long hair and muscular toned body he looked like a teenage version of Fabio. While she had learned to appreciate guys and knew she was attracted to guys, this was the first time someone had this erotic effect on her.
"Ms Shamrock, this is Jose Sanchez," Zambada stated as he waved the nervous teen over to join them. "Relax, Jose, you are not in trouble. Ms Shamrock said she detected you probing her emotions and shut you out. Sit and join us."
"I'm sorry, Uncle Issy," Jose meekly said as he sat in the chair provided. "I only had a brief contact before I lost her. No one has ever done that!"
"Few can," Brose smiled. "Doing so is one of my abilities."
"You come from the place known as The Center," Guzman stated. "The US government takes the mutan... emerged... there to be brainwashed like the Nazis did to theirs."
"The Center does not brainwash us," Brose stated. "It's a place where we are safe and can use our abilities without fear. Technically, we are a branch of the Department of Homeland Security but for the most part, we run ourselves. We try to mitigate the damage that sometimes occurs during a transition and we do what we can to keep emerged from becoming criminals. We do our best to police our own. If the general public discovered we exist, it could easily cause hysteria and panic."
Jose squirmed a bit in his chair as he knew his lie detection ability had led to numerous deaths. On top of that he was uneasy not being able to sense Brose's emotions. At the same time he was drawn to her. The only other emerged he'd been exposed to were those with the Nazis and they were all rather nasty and male. That, he realized, was the difference. The Nazi emerged were tense, evil, arrogant, macho, curt and dismissive. Brose seemed relaxed and self assured without being cocky while facing the leaders of the cartel. Obviously she knew her life would be in their hands yet she came unarmed, completely vulnerable. Maybe that's why he was drawn to her. His role in the cartel was that of a living lie detector, a tool. Sure he was treated well and could get almost anything he requested if it was reasonable. Uncle Issy did take care of him, but there was no love an uncle should show his nephew. In fact, Uncle Issy made it clear he felt Jose was indeed a mutant. There was no doubt that being an emerged was a lot better than being a mutant.
"Perhaps Jose could come back with me to The Center," Brose smiled at the anxious lad.
Before Jose could express his interest in doing that, Uncle Issy spoke. "I'm afraid that would be impossible. Jose is my grandnephew and he's become a vital part of our organization."
Brose figured they used him as living lie detector, just as The Center did. She could tell Jose would join her if he was able, but for now that was not possible.
"We will stop supplying the information on your smuggling efforts," Brose began after they'd finished eating and they settled back on the private veranda. "We will not show any other organization how we do it as we don't trust them. We'll also reveal how we are able to track your mules. In exchange, we want the Nazis... all of them."
El Chapo spoke. "How do we know we can trust you?"
"You don't," Brose said. "But if we were not being honest, do you think I would have put myself in your hands?"
"Carlotto said you want to legalize drugs," Zambada spoke. "The US 'War on Drugs' is more than fifty years old. How do you propose to get the people to accept legalization?"
"With common sense," Brose answered. "We've been fighting this ‘war’ for fifty years and have nothing to show for our efforts except gangs of street thugs or motorcycle clubs armed to the teeth to protect their turf. The violence illegal drugs create is getting worse in the US just as it is here. But then, you know all about the violence since Sinaloa is the major cartel. I'm not condemning you. You are entrepreneurs trying to make your business grow. I can't condone the violence, but under the circumstances I can see how it's evolved to become so deadly."
"What needs to happen is that illegal drugs be made legal and regulated by the government," Brose stated. "The prohibition of alcohol didn't work in the 1920s or 1930s. All it did was finance the illegal alcohol trade. The gangs of today are simply the modern equivalent of the mobsters. The wars between cartels over drug routes is the same as the gangsters fighting over alcohol distribution during Prohibition. Now, alcohol is regulated by the government and taxed. The distribution is done by private individuals."
"The same thing will happen with illegal drugs," Brose declared. "Laws will need to re-written. First, being 'under the influence' must be eliminated as an excuse for any actions. It doesn't matter if it's alcohol or drugs, you took it, you are responsible for what happens. In fact, doing something 'under the influence' should automatically double, preferably triple, the punishment. Providing alcohol or drugs to a minor must become a felony with a mandatory five year jail term per person supplied to be served consecutively. The age of the provider will make no difference. If they provide something for ten kids having a party, the term is fifty years. If the minors get into trouble, the adults who supplied the illicit material will have the sentence the minors receive added to theirs. If a minor commits a crime while 'under the influence, they are to be treated as an adult. All laws and regulations MUST be enforced regardless of age. The laws must be tough to act as a deterrent for being 'under the influence'. A person can get high at home or with a friend. If they are out in public, then they must have a designated driver."
"Regulations regarding sales and distribution must be set up for the distributors," Brose went on. "Taxes must also be set. Treatment programs for addicts need to be made available. The regulations will require the drugs meet purity standards. The Sinaloa Cartel is currently the biggest player. To hold that position, you need to plan for the future. You will need to make yourself legitimate to survive. Your armies will no longer be needed so your expenses should be lower. You'll be able to ship by the truckload. What you need to do now is to finance a campaign to legalize drugs while making anyone who is not using the mood enhancers responsibly face the consequences of their actions. Either they learn or they go to jail for a long time. At the same time, the gangs will no longer have a reason to exist and robbery to pay for drugs should drop. Hire experts in the US legal system to draft a preliminary set of laws and regulations, then get it out to the voting public. They'll need to know the legalization will force users to become responsible users and stop drug driven crime. By supporting this, you will become a major player in supplying the drugs. You'd become legitimate business people."
The two men nodded. Both knew recreational drug use in the US would never end. Life now was tough, they needed personal body guards as much as they needed air to breath, not only for them, but for their families. By becoming legal suppliers, the wars would end. It would require much thought.
"What you say makes sense," Guzman agreed. "But your government would never agree to legalizing drugs."
"For those who started the war on drugs, you're right," Brose nodded. "But most of them are dead. Those born since then have seen the crime and failure of efforts to stop it. Many have tried illegal drugs. If they can see a way of legalizing things, they will accept it, especially if it becomes a major source of tax revenue."
"Now, about the Nazis and our interdiction of your shipments," Brose switched subjects. "I'm sure the Nazis know about our interdiction and will suspect The Center is behind it to ferret them out. We'll need to keep up the interdiction until we strike so they don't suspect anything. That means you need to keep sending shipments. Just make them smaller and use expendable mules."
"We have not agreed to do this," Zambada declared with indignation.
"But by seeing me you have acknowledged the necessity of doing so," Brose replied in a calm voice to appear confident without being cocky. "The sooner we nab the Nazis, the sooner we stop giving info to local enforcement. As we told you, when we get the Nazis we'll give you all the details on how we're able to spot border crossings. The other cartels are being hit too as we can't distinguish who is who so all will be freed from our interdictions. Perhaps you can use the information we give you to stop your competition thus enhancing your position of dominance. Give us the location of the Nazis. My unit can be ready to strike forty eight hours after I return to the US."
"I don't like being forced to do something," Zambada growled. "But you have been honest with us. You initiated the contact and have not tried to hide any weapons or tracking devices. How do we make the arrangements?"
"When I return to the border, my unit will have a cell phone and code word list to give Carlotto," Brose explained. "There will be a speed dial button to reach us. Once you're ready, give us the location and time you can allow us to strike. As we said, we do not want to engage your people, so the guards you have watching the Nazis will need to slip away leaving the Nazis vulnerable. We'll do the rest. The minute we strike, our interdiction will end. When we get out, we'll give you the information about how we did it. We can set that up in advance if you'd like so there will be no delays."
"How many people are in your unit," Guzman asked.
"Including myself, thirty," Brose answered. "When we went after the base in Bolivia, there were only twenty of us."
"Now you're lying," Zambada sneered. "It would have taken hundreds to take that base."
"Using conventional forces, you're probably right," Brose said. "But half of the Butt Kickers are emerged. With our abilities, we easily overcame the Nazi guards."
Zambada still doubted. "What did you do, gas them?"
Suddenly the air was filled with the scent of flowers. "That's exactly what I did," Brose smiled. “My main ability is as an odorkinetic. I just made the flower scent. I can create any gas, any smell, I've ever been exposed to. Your guard over there, tell him I'm going to attack him."
Guzman told the guard who stood at the corner of the veranda that Brose was going to attack him. The man drew his weapon and aimed it at Brose. Suddenly, he shook his head and yawned. In less than fifteen seconds, he slumped to the floor.
"I created a fast acting knock-out gas cloud around him," Brose explained. "I could just as easily have killed him with poison gas. Tell your man to the left to place his lit cigarette on the wall and to step back at least three meters."
Guzman gave the order and the man obeyed.
"I'm going to create a flammable gas cloud above the cigarette," Brose explained.
In three seconds there was a pop and a whooshing ball of flame a meter across burst above the cigarette causing everyone but Brose to gasp and jump.
"I could kill you or any of your people at any time," Brose stated without bragging. "So if that's what I wanted to do, I'd be done by now. The other emerged members of the Butt Kickers have different abilities. Electricity, fire, ice, wind, earth, water, light, dark, empath, damper, dominator, healer, ghost, and technology. Together, we can really kick ass and easily get inside any building. The soldiers in the unit are all special forces or ranger, deadly in their own right. Together, we can easily live up to our name, the Butt Kickers."
Zambada and Guzman were impressed. "So, we are in your hands as we speak," Zambada declared. “Yet another point in your favor. We will cooperate."
"Good," Brose declared with a smile.
"Before we send you back, you are this 'Cat' the Nazis are afraid of," Guzman stated. "Our sources said you are a deadly shot. That twice you took on AZIF raids in the US and destroyed them. We have a place in the hills where it is safe to shoot. We'd like to see your weapons prowess."
"Once I try the weapons to see their accuracy, it should be no problem," Brose smiled. "Pistol, rifle, whatever, I can shoot it. I’d like Jose to go with us. It’ll be nice to have someone my own age to chat with."
Jose was excited and pleased when he was allowed to accompany the group. They set out in an armed convoy, the teens sitting in back talking up a storm about seemingly inconsequential subjects but the two got to know each other. Two hours later they arrived at a ranch in the cordillera. Brose was not surprised to find a gun range. Within moments, she was checking out the weapons. Picking up a pair of nine MM Sig Sauer P226s, she smiled. After making sure the range was clear, in one fluid motion she raised and simultaneously fired the pistols at a target fifty feet away.
"Nice weapons," Brose smiled. "I carry a pair along with my .50 cal Desert Eagle. Can someone bring the target in? If these weapons are accurate, the slugs should have touched just at the bulls eye. There should be twin overlapping holes dead center with a horizontal split on each side as the bullets ricocheted off each other."
"No one can do that," Zambada said as the target was retrieved. "Especially as you didn't aim."
Brose just smiled as she refilled the clips and watched as the shock registered on Zambada's and Guzman's faces when they saw the target just as Brose described it. Jose’s mouth dropped open in awe.
"Have four people take clay pigeons to the left side of the rifle range and four others to the right side. At about thirty meters out have them spread out every ten meters. Have the lines stay at least a hundred meters apart. On your order, have them simultaneously toss the targets into the air at least ten meters high and towards the center. Then have each throw two more as fast as they can."
The orders were given and the eight men each with three clay pigeons took up position. Brose nodded when they were in the proper position, then turned her back to the range with the pistols hanging down by her legs. Guzman called out "GO" when the men had thrown the first targets at his nod to them.
Brose turned and raised both pistols as she began to fire. She blew each target apart, not missing a single one of the twenty four. When she was done, she turned to face Guzman, Zambada and Jose.
"That is impossible," Zambada declared. "Both pistols fired simultaneously at separate targets moving through the air at that range. No... it is impossible."
"Impossible for most," Brose nodded. "But not for me. Now you can see why the AZIF forces I've faced were defeated. I can fire like that on the run. I was a marksman before I transitioned. I'm even better now. I grew up on a hog farm and learned to shoot rats. Now I hunt human rats."
"You can do that with rifles too," Zambada said in wonder.
"I've been practicing with an M107 semi-automatic .50 cal sniper rifle," Brose stated. "I can hit the bulls eye on moving targets at two kilometers."
The men understood Brose was not bragging, simply stating fact. They were impressed... and afraid. They didn't want to ever face The Cat.
After a light lunch, Brose left, headed back to the US. She impulsively hugged Jose and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek. The handsome young man was not far from her thoughts as she was taken north.
Just before sunset the next day, she crossed the border to rejoin the anxious Butt Kickers. Brose made sure Carlotto knew how to use the phone and code before he headed back to his bosses.
*****
Three days later, on September 12, Carlotto called. The phone was in the Beta Site communications room and the crew was aware of the importance of the communication. The message was recorded and sent to the site intel crew. The Nazis would be unguarded on the night of September 15 into the 16th. The cartel people with the Nazis would be leaving after supper on the fifteenth to head to San Ignacio, the nearest large town, to celebrate the Mexican Independence Day.
Cinco de Mayo, or May 5, is not the Mexican Independence Day. Cinco de Mayo actually commemorates the victory of the Mexican Army over the French Empire at the Battle of Puebla in 1862, during the French invasion of Mexico.
The Grito de Dolores ("Cry of Dolores") also known as El Grito de la Independencia ("Cry of Independence"), uttered from the small town of Dolores, near Guanajuato on September 16, 1810 is the event that marks the beginning of the Mexican War of Independence and is the most important national holiday observed in Mexico. The "Grito" was the battle cry of the Mexican War of Independence by Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, a Roman Catholic priest. Hidalgo and several criollos (People of pure or nearly pure Spanish blood born in Mexico deemed to be of lower social status than the elite Spanish born in Spain.) were involved in a planned revolt against the Spanish colonial government and the plotters were betrayed. Fearing his arrest, Hidalgo ordered his brother to go with a number of other armed men to make the sheriff release the pro-independence inmates imprisoned in Dolores on the night of 15 September. They managed to set eighty free. Around 6:00 am September 16, 1810, Hidalgo ordered the church bells to be rung and gathered his congregation and addressed the people in front of his church, encouraging them to revolt. This event has since assumed an almost mythic status. Since the late 20th century, Hidalgo y Costilla’s "cry of independence" has become emblematic of Mexican independence.
Every year on the night of September 15 at around eleven in the evening, the President of Mexico rings the bell of the National Palace in Mexico City. After the ringing of the bell, he repeats a cry of patriotism (a Grito Mexicano) based upon the "Grito de Dolores", with the names of the important heroes of the Mexican War of Independence and ending with the three fold shout of "Viva Mexico!" from the balcony of the palace to the assembled crowd in the Plaza de la Constituciá³n, one of the largest public plazas in the world. After the shouting, he rings the bell again and waves the Flag of Mexico to the applause of the crowd. This is followed by the playing and mass singing of the Himno Nacional Mexicano, the national anthem.
Similar celebration occurs in cities and towns all over Mexico. The mayor rings a bell and gives the traditional words, with the names of Mexican independence heroes included, ending with the threefold shout of "Viva Mexico!", the bell ringing for the second time, the waving of the Mexican flag and the mass singing of the National Anthem by everyone in attendance. The raucous party lasts through the night. On the morning of September 16, Independence Day, The day is marked by parades, patriotic programs, drum and bugle and marching band competitions, and special programs on the national and local media outlets, even concerts. This is where the Mexicans normally with the Nazis were heading. The Nazis would not suspect anything since it was normal for Mexicans to celebrate their independence day.
The Nazis were located at GPS coordinates 24.09084, -106.30408, a wooded ridge surrounded on three sides by a small stream. The camp was on the forested ridge that rose to a height of about twenty meters. The stream and more importantly, its flood plain wound around the east, south and west sides of the low ridge, which was about two hundred meters wide and about six hundred meters long. On the north side, the ridge rose up rapidly merging into the flank of the mountain which soared five hundred eighty meters to the peak two and a half kilometers from the camp. Across the stream to the south of the camp, another mountain soared up about eight hundred meters to it's peak three kilometers from the camp. There were no roads into the remote camp site, only a narrow rutted track.
San Ignacio, the party destination of the cartel people, was eighty kilometers almost due north of Mazatlan. MF Route 6 ended there. The nearest settlement to the Nazi camp was the village of Ajoya, about five kilometers southwest of the camp and eighteen kilometers north, north east of San Ignacio. A winding thirty kilometer long rugged dirt connected the village to San Ignacio. The small village sat in a hilly valley surrounded by mountains. The dirt road that provided access to Ajoya cut through the mountainous region to the small Rio Verde with a wide barren flood plain descending out of the wooded cordillera. The dirt road continued past Ajoya roughly following the river to the north, heading deeper into the mountains. One and half kilometers north east of Ajoya, riachuelo Santiago flowed out of the mountains from the east to join the Rio Verde. Access to the camp site was by traveling a narrow rutted track along side the Santiago.
To get in quickly and quietly, the Butt Kickers would need to do a Halo jump. The site they selected was the rugged ridge top to the north of the camp, nine hundred meters above sea level. Unlike the surrounding mountains, the peak was not forested, just dotted with scattered low scrub. Since it lacked vegetation, the area was clearly visible. The oval shaped open area was the peak’s relatively flat dome about one hundred meters long and thirty five meters wide. A strike force coming down from the mountain on the upstream side of the camp where there was no land access would not be expected so guards on that side would be light.
There were a hundred sixteen Nazi fanatics plus the two emerged in the camp. Numerically, the odds were almost four to one against the Butt Kickers but they discounted the physical odds. Several tentative plans had been drawn up trying to account for various scenarios. Now that they had their target, an intense satellite survey of the area was conducted. There were no doubts the Sinaloa Cartel wanted the Nazis eliminated and were only to happy to let the Butt Kickers do the deed allowing them to save face. What concerned Brose was the possibility the cartel might attempt to eliminate the Butt Kickers after they finished off the Nazis.
Since the strike would not be sanctioned by the Mexican government, the attack needed to be kept under wraps. The hard part would be getting out of Mexico. At the nearest point, the site was about eight hundred kilometers from the US, but that was through the mountainous center of the country. The Pacific coast was fifty kilometers due west of the Nazi camp. But that was through hilly and increasingly populated terrain. Their safest option would be to raft down the Arroyo Santiago and the Rio Verde to it’s confluence with the Rio Piaxtla, then down to the Pacific. Fortunately, The Rio Piaxtla was a growing kayaking and rafting destination for adventure seekers so with a bit of luck, the Butt Kickers could appear to be just another of those groups.
On the fourteenth of September the Butt Kickers once more boarded a C-17 at Peterson Air Force Base. This time, in addition to their normal gear, they would be carrying four deflated rugged rafts. This meant the loads for everyone would be heavier as they balanced their weight. When inflated, each raft would be four and a half meters long and two point two meters wide. The diameter of the inflated tubes was one half meter with side heights of point eight meters and three inflated thwarts. The empty weight was seventy kilograms with a capacity of twelve people
The thousand mile flight took a bit over two and a half hours. The flight was officially logged as a round trip training exercise. Just as they had done when HALO jumping into Playas, the unit landed right on target. It was 2200 hours when they touched down.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 9
Upon landing, the Butt Kickers immediately grabbed their chutes and rucksacks and scrambled into the trees on the west side of the peak. After stripping out of their jumps suits and bundling them in their chutes, they split up their kits. In the center of a vegetation free area near the peak a super hot high intensity incendiary device was placed with a timed detonator set to go off in forty hours. All the unneeded gear was placed on a pile centered above the incendiary with the now empty ruck sacks layered over the top to provide a reasonably water resistant covering. The ruck sacks were weighed down by stones so the wind wouldn’t undo the heap. The entire pile should burst into flame sometime around four in the afternoon the day they leave the area. By 2400 hours they stealthily headed down the rugged tree filled mountain slope. Pfc. Melendez, a mountain warfare specialist, led the way with Msg. McNeil right behind. They strung guide ropes to help the others descend the thirty degree slope. Cpl. Hills, also a mountain warfare specialist, brought up the rear and undid the ropes for later reuse. The first portion of the arduous nighttime hike was slow. During the next hour they traveled down slope five hundred thirty meters descending one hundred eighty meters in altitude. After a fifteen minute rest, they set out again. This portion was relatively easy, a downslope distance of two hundred meters with an altitude drop of only twenty meters which only took fifteen minutes. The next portion was once more steep and rugged, a downslope distance of six hundred twenty five meters with and altitude drop of one hundred eighty meters. This descent took until 0245 hours. After another fifteen minute rest, they trekked another five hundred meters cross slope only dropping twenty meters in altitude. At that point they were directly above the Nazi/Cartel camp. While most of the unit set up an overnight camp on a relatively flat area just out of the uphill line of site of the enemy camp, Brose led a recon mission down to the camp.
Cpl. Michael, Pfc. Molina, Pfc. Stamos, Pfc. Hernandez, Pfc. Melendez and Pfc. Smith were the regular soldiers who accompanied Brose, Emo, Casper, Damalis, and Dom on the scouting mission. The final downslope descent of five hundred thirty meters descending one hundred eighty meters in altitude. They left the ropes in place to ease their accent and for tomorrow’s assault decent. Without the burden of their gear, it was 0415 hours until they were safely down. Utilizing the information gathered by infrared satellite scans the team spread out and quickly located four guard posts and a dozen Mexican guards walking a guard perimeter about the base before regrouping.
With the soldiers keeping watch, Emo, Damalis, and Dom took up position behind Brose, ready to use their abilities as Casper ghosted in to peer inside each guard post. There were three guard posts on the west side of the camp and one on the east side with two guards in each. They discovered each guard post was monitored by a camera. All four posts would have to be taken out at the same time due to video surveillance of the guards. Obviously the ever paranoid Nazi leaders didn’t trust their own men to stay awake and alert. Next they slipped inside the camp to locate the four bunk cabins and a large building that served as the mess hall with attached kitchen. The four cabins were in the northern half of the base. The kitchen was dead center. In the southern half of the base were three bunkers connected by sand bagged fighting trenches to form a formidable triangle. Away from the bunkers and down on the southern end of the base was a small building that housed an electrical generator. Three SUVs and four beat up pick-up trucks were parked inside the tree line on the northwest side of the camp, high enough to avoid being damaged by any rain induced floods. It was 0530 hours when they returned to the base of the mountain, just as the night sky began to lighten. It took another hour and a quarter to silently make the hazardous accent back to their base to rejoin the rest of the Butt Kickers. While they were ascending two vehicles trundled up the track, bringing Mexican cam staff to prepare the day’s meals.
With guards posted and watches assigned, the unit settled down to sleep and relax. About 1500 hours the sky began to cloud over. Rain started dripping at 1700 hours as the Mexican cartel guards and staff boarded two SUVs and four trucks and scuttled down the track on their way to San Ignacio for the celebration. By 1900 hours, it was dark and pouring. The Butt Kickers hunkered down in their ponchos as Brose and Msg. McNeil reviewed their plan. The Santiago was quickly filling it’s banks. They were glad they didn’t have to cross the now raging stream. The techies back at The Center were able to access the satellites for a weather forecast. The weather system was moving east and by 2300 hours, when the party began in San Ignacio, the storm would be past the town. It looked like the back edge would reach them about midnight, but it would be at least 0200 hours until it passed out of the mountains that fed the now swirling stream. Hopefully by daylight the stream would be manageable for the use of the rafts.
At 2400 hours, with the rain beginning to taper off, the Butt Kickers gathered by the descent route. Everyone was nervous as the rain had made everything quite slippery. Burdened with their gear, if one of them slipped, the results could be tragic. While there were a few slips, no one lost their footing. The guide rope did it’s job. Upon reaching the bottom they moved to the north-west end of what had become a mini peninsula surrounded by at least seventy five feet of raging water. In the trees but within sight of the now muddy rutted track that led into the base, they set up their new base of operations.
It had taken them an hour and a half to descend. Putin set up their comm gear and linked to a satellite as the others dropped their excess gear and the inflatable rafts. Sgt. Dunham, Putin, Bones and River were squad one and were assigned to stay where they had set up to guard the soggy and most likely impassable roadway.
By 0145 hours the leaves of the trees were rustling in a steady breeze causing the water clinging to their surface to drip steadily. The incessant dripping could hardly be heard as the roar of the surging waters swept around the base, drowning most noise. Brose, Cpl Michael, Pfc. Stamos and Pfc. Smith were the best in the unit at moving stealthily. They were spread between squads two, three, four, and five. The four squads would simultaneously take out the guard posts. Each squad also had one of the Clover Quads. Their constant silent communication would allow the four squads to strike as one. With their crewing, each squad had an excellent chance to slip up to their assigned guard post without being detected. Squad two, led by Sgt. High with Shadow, Damalis and Pfc. Stamos was followed by squad eight led by Msg. McNeil, Tricia, Casper and Pfc. Melendez. They crossed the peninsula and headed down the east side of the of the camp. When they neared the lone guard post, squad two took up defensive positions while squad eight circled around as they continued south heading for the electrical generator. Squad three, led by Cpl. Michael with Blaze, Windy and Pfc. Patterson headed for the northern most of the west side guard posts. Squad four, led by Brose, with Sgt. Hoyle, Sunny and Pfc. Hernandez headed to the center western guard post; and Squad five lead by Cpl. Hills with Snow, Dom and Pfc. Smith headed for the southern most guard post on the west side of the camp.
As each squad took up it’s position at it’s designated target, they signaled Putin. It was 0200 hours until they were all ready. Msg. McNeil began the operation by having Tricia short out the generator. Tricia first pulled about ninety percent of the voltage from the relay box. This caused the lights around the camp to dim. She let the power flow then cut into it again. The lights around the camp flickered and came back to life several times in the next minute before finally shutting down completely.
The guards were a bit spooked and took up positions outside their sheltered posts to see if anything untoward was happening. Since they had been holed up in their illuminated guard posts their eyes were not accustomed to the sudden pitch blackness under the trees below a cloud covered sky. Once all eight guards had stepped outside, the Clover Quads shared the knowledge. Each squad moved to take out the guards. It took less than thirty seconds to cut their throats. As soon as the guards were down the quads let Brose know. Brose broke their radio silence to signal the other squads to move to their assault positions.
Squad six, led by Sgt. Lincoln with Giana and Pfc. Molina and squad seven, led by Cpl. Habaz with Emo, and Pfc. Loose moved to surround the largest cabin. Squad two headed for the mess hall. Squads three, four and five each moved to take up positions at one of the remaining cabins. Squad eight moved north from the generator to cover the bunkers. Before they were able to get into position, Squad eight signaled they saw two people emerge from one of the bunkers. They climbed a ladder out of the trench and headed south apparently to check out the generator. They did not appear to be in a hurry and seemed unaware they were under attack. Msg. McNeil had the squad step off the path to hide behind trees and signaled Tricia to zap the duo.
When the two men were about ten feet away, Tricia let loose what she thought was merely a knock-out jolt. Even as it left her body she realized the power she had drained from the generator had supercharged her. Instead of a knock out jolt, a blinding ball of lightening engulfed the men and instantly fried both to a crisp. The sound of a mighty thunderbolt split the air deafening the members of squad eight and waking all the sleeping Nazis. The familiar smell of lightening generated ozone filled the air and spread throughout the base as the resounding echos of the tremendous burst of power thundered back and forth between the rugged mountains/
As the jolted awake Nazis became aware of what was going, most assumed there had been a lightening strike that had knocked out the power. Most rolled over and tried to get back to sleep in the god-forsaken humidity. A few decided to get some fresh air. Squads six and seven were the only units in position around their objective. They quickly took cover and let the rest of the Butt Kickers know the crash had awaken some of the enemy and a few had stepped outside. Most of the Nazis simply stood around the entrance and lit up cigarettes. A few stepped to the side of the building to take a whiz.
Squads two, three, four and five slowed their approach to their objectives assuming some of the occupants of their targets were doing the same as the men Squads six and seven were watching. All the caution was for naught as one of the Nazis tripped over Sgt. Lincoln. The startled man cried out as he stumbled. Sgt. Lincoln had been ready and the man was dead before he fell to the ground. Unfortunately other Nazis saw the brief action and called out a warning. Squads six and seven cut loose with their M4A1s. None of the Nazis outside their building made it back inside.
Even though the Nazis were caught flat footed, that didn’t mean they weren’t able to fight. In true Nazi paranoia, they all slept with weapons. As soon as the gunfire echoed through the base, the Nazis rushed for their weapons. Those inside the target cabin of Squads six and seven promptly responded with gunfire blindly firing into the darkness, thankfully above the heads of the Butt Kickers who were still behind cover close to the ground.
Squads three and five were near enough to their target cabins so they to were able to cut down the stragglers of those who had exited before they could return inside to get their weapons. Within moments both cabins were pouring fire into the trees. The Nazis were not organized and had no idea who or where their enemy was so they just fired. Quite a few of their shots came close to their attackers but none were on target. The Butt Kickers methodically returned deadly accurate fire as the muzzle flashes barked from the windows of the buildings. Fortunately, the flimsy construction and thin walls provided little cover to the Nazis. The firing of the Butt Kickers poked through the walls with ease cutting down those Nazis stupid enough to take cover behind them.
The three bunkers were another matter. Fortunately they were not pill boxes designed to fire at attackers, but they were sealed up enough to prevent entry. However, men did begin to pour out of one bunker. Squad eight had sprinted to their objective in time to pin the Nazis in the trenches. The fire from the Nazis in the trenches was accurate but hasty. The sandbags provided them with adequate cover. Neither side could maneuver to get an advantage over the other. While the quick bursts both side were able to fire hit no one, they did effectively keep both sides pinned down.
The cabin being assaulted by squad three kept the Nazis inside but the trapped soldiers quickly realized their vulnerability and used foot lockers and beds to stop the bullets passing through the flimsy walls from hitting them. While their return fire from the windows was sporadic, it was enough to keep the Butt Kickers down. After a few minutes of exchanging fire, Cpl. Michael ordered Blaze to torch the building. With bullets zipping near him, Blaze didn’t need to be told twice. One massive fireball burst inside the cabin. Flames erupted from the windows and the men inside screamed, but only briefly as they painfully died quickly as their lungs were seared.
The cabin being assaulted by squad five was not as organized as the Nazis from the cabin assaulted by Squad three, but several survived and returned fire. When Blaze lit up the cabin he was attacking, Cpl. Hills didn’t hesitate to order Snow to attack their objective. Like Blaze, Snow was surprised by the violent defense. She didn’t hesitate to send a mighty blast of minus one hundred degrees Fahrenheit cold into the building. Most of the surviving Nazis inside died instantly as their lungs froze. The remainder managed to get their faces to the windows and avoided breathing in the ice crystal laden air. They didn’t avoid the bone chilling cold. Those who could tried to dive out the windows were cut down by the butt kickers. The rest hid inside and froze to death within a minute.
Squad four was still about a hundred feet from their target cabin when the lightening flash and thunder hit. Like the other cabins, a few Nazis had exited to smoke, but had time to rush inside, grab their weapons and come tumbling outside. Due to the trees, most were able to avoid the fire from the still advancing Squad four. The surviving Nazis took cover and began to return fire, pinning the Butt Kickers behind other trees. Just as at the bunker complex, both sides kept the other pinned down. Neither side could get a bead on their adversaries before they had to duck. Unfortunately for the Nazis, this was the Squad Brose led. While the rest of the squad kept up enough fire to keep the Nazis behind cover, Brose pulled her Desert Eagle. Using her senses she was easily able to pinpoint the emergence of a Nazi from his cover as he tried to fire at the Butt Kickers. Brose fired just before the Nazi head appeared so the hard headed fanatics had their skulls pulverized the split second they emerged. The repeated deadly report of the big .50 caliber weapon let everyone know there was one less Nazi.
At the main cabin, a sturdier building, the Nazis were fighting back. Neither side could get an accurate burst off. When he saw the one cabin burst into flame, Sgt. Lincoln ordered Giana to knock the building down. Giana concentrated her earth quake inducing powers to create a localized 8.0 earthquake under the cabin. The cabin crumbled into a heap. Squad three with Blaze rushed over and soon the demolished building was ablaze. Only a few screams were heard.
Squad two was the only one who managed to easily take their objective. The mess hall was unmanned. At that point they manned the doors and waited as the firing slowly died down.
At the bunkers, the Nazis in the trenches could hear the firing from the cabins and they waited for their main forces to eliminate the stupid cartel fighters who dared to attack them! But as the minutes passed the firing wound down and they could see the cabins fiercely burning. They also heard the angry barking of the .50 cal. They had only heard that ominous sound once before... from the communications they had monitored when Brose took out the last AZIF mission. Slowly it dawned on them they were not facing the Mexicans.
“Weindt, Breiner,” the gruff voiced commander barked to his two emerged. “What can you detect?”
“Fear from our few remaining men,” Breiner whispered. “But they are being wiped out. Every time that big guns fires, one of our men dies.”
“It’s The Cat,” Weindt gasped. “I can pick the satisfied thoughts of those with her.”
Squad five swung around to assist squad four in keeping the Nazis from falling back to the bunkers as Brose continued to methodically take them out. None surrendered or survived. By 0220 hours the firing ceased. The only remaining Nazis were in the trenches and bunkers. One was the headquarters, one was the weapons/ammo store, and the third was housing for the officers and emerged.
After making sure there were no survivors from the four cabins, the Butt Kickers moved to surround the bunker complex. Squads six and seven covered the ammo bunker and the nearest half of the trenches connecting it to the other bunkers. Squads three and five did the same at the officers’ bunker. Squads eight and four, minus Brose, took the Headquarters bunker. Brose moved from bunker to bunker seeking to detect how many Nazis were left. The headquarters had one man inside and two cowering in the trenches facing the other bunkers. The ammo bunker had two men inside. There were ten officers and two emerged hunkered down in the trenches beside the last bunker. All the surviving Nazis were quite shook up and the man in the Headquarters bunker was trying to communicate with anyone. Putin’s equipment quickly detected the radio signals and jammed them. The only communication the Nazis had was telephones between the bunkers and buildings.
Squad two found an operating phone in the mess hall. At 0225 hours Brose called out in clear German. “You do not stand a chance. Everyone else is dead. Save yourselves and surrender. Otherwise we will kill you.”
“The soldiers of the Fourth Reich will never surrender,” the gruff voiced commander replied. “We will not be taken easily and we will make you pay dearly!”
“The Fourth Reich,” Brose chuckled. “Your precious Fourth Reich never got off the ground. We took out your main base in Bolivia and now we’re here to take you out. MMRROWWLLL!”
“My God, we’re dead,” one of the men by the headquarters cried out. “It IS The Cat!”
“Silence fool,” the gruff voiced commander ordered. “They are just trying to scare us! There is no CAT! No man can be that deadly and certainly no mere girl!”
“But I’m no mere girl,” Brose chuckled. “I am an emerged. I was a marksman and hunter before I transformed. Now I’m even better. It only took twenty of us in Bolivia to take out your precious base. Save yourself the agony and surrender.”
“NEVER,” the gruff man declared. “Heinrich, you know your orders.”
“But Herr Oberst...” Heinrich began clearly appalled.
“HEINRICH!” the gruff voiced Oberst bluntly countered cutting off the man’s frantic protest.
"Y... ya.. Yawohl Oberst Schroder," the clearly terrified man whispered.
“The fear level in the ammo bunker just went up so much it almost blanked me,” Emo gasped into his comm.
“They’re going to blow the ammo dump,” Brose responded as she had felt the fear surge from all the Nazis. “RUN!”
Alerted by Emo's warning, none of the Butt Kickers hesitated as they scrambled away from the bunkers. Fifteen seconds later, the ground shook as an ear shattering blast erupted from what had been the ammo bunker. Trees, rocks, dirt and pieces of shattered concrete flew into the air. Fortunately, the main force of the blast went up. The fleeing Butt Kickers were knocked down by the concussion and pelted with the debris as it rained down. All were physically stunned, disoriented and their ears were ringing. Only squads one and two escaped unscathed. The angst Emo had felt in the two men from the ammo bunker had given everyone enough time to get out of the kill zone.
Thanks to her powerful constitution, Brose recovered in seconds and stood looking about her. It tore her heart out to see her team tossed about like matchsticks. A quick emotion scan told her everyone was still alive and at least semi conscious.
Anger flooded her as she stalked to the remaining bunkers. Leaping across the trench to the land island inside the un-excavated area inside the surrounding trenches she looked into the shattered entrance of the headquarters bunker. The two men who had been in the trenches had fled inside to escape the blast but not fast enough to shut the door. Feeling the dazed emotions of the three men inside, she simply pointed the Desert Eagle at each and fired as fast as she could pull the trigger. With each shot the emotions abruptly vanished.
Crossing over to the officer’s bunker she noted there was no one in the trenches. Probing into the shattered entrance of the bunker she sensed that they too were alive but too dazed and disoriented to react. The ‘BRAVE’ Nazis, including Oberst Schroder, had sought cover inside the bunker instead of remaining in the trenches to take the blast. She was ready to dose them with cyanide but stopped just as she was preparing the lethal dose as she reined in her anger. Instead she sucked all the oxygen from the ruined bunker to knock them all out. The emotions inside quickly faded to nothing as the stunned Nazis lost consciousness.
Sgt. Dunham, Bones, and River sprinted to the blast site. By the time they arrived, the dazed Butt Kickers were already stirring. The area looked like a nightmarish scene from "Apocalypse Now". The barrack cabins Blaze had ignited were still burning, illuminating the camp with weird flickering light. Trees were toppled, trees were leaning at angles as they had gotten tangled in nearby trees. Branches had been blown off trees and were lying all about. Where the ammo bunker had been was a now a smoking crater twenty feet deep and fifty feet across. River stood ready with his M4A1 in case any Nazi’s emerged from what remained of the other two bunkers while Sgt. Dunham and Bones began to triage the injured Butt Kickers.
“River, watch this bunker," Brose ordered as she indicated the officers bunk. "If anything moves, shoot.”
River took up position. He’d wanted to look for Giana but understood the site had to be secure and he was the only man still standing. If they tried to come out, he’d enjoy sending them to hell.
The battered Butt Kickers were beginning to come around. Brose could detect their pain and disorientation, directing Sgt. Dunham and Bones to the worst injuries. One by one, the Butt Kickers staggered to their feet. Their were no life threatening injuries but all were bruised and five had suffered minor fractures. Bones used her talent to heal the breaks.
"Listen up, people," Brose spoke into her comm unit. "Everyone but River and Putin gather in front of the mess hall. Don't push yourselves but get here as soon as you comfortably can. Putin, notify The Center twenty six of us were in the blast zone and most were injured, but no one has life threatening wounds and all are functional. Once we get everyone checked, we'll pass on more info. Let them know there are ten Nazis and the two emerged in a damaged bunker. I put them to sleep. The rest are dead."
"All ready done," Putin replied. "I have your comms patched through to The Center."
"Roger that," Brose replied as she went into the damaged mess hall and found several lamps. Lighting them, she took them outside to illuminate the place she wanted the unit to gather.
It took until 0240 hours for everyone to make it to the assembly point. Three were limping. Brose scanned each as they appeared. All would recover which eased her concerns. Bones looked fatigued from all the healing she'd done. She was chowing down on Pixie Stix.
Brose sent Pfc. Loose and Sgt. High to get a truck and bring Putin and the comm equipment as well as the gear they had left with him. Msg. McNeil and River were delegated to search the headquarters bunker for information. Brose led several others back to the officer’s bunker. Emo probed inside but couldn't sense anyone but stayed on alert in case any began to wake. Casper ghosted inside and confirmed they were all still unconscious. She stayed inside to watch they stayed asleep while Brose, Sgt. Lincoln and Pfc. Molina began clearing the rubble that had been blown in by the explosion. Dom stayed right behind the three ready to take control of anyone who might wake.
By 0255 hours they were able to yank the door out of the fractured doorway. The interior was a mess. Bunks were overturned, the walls and ceiling cracked with rebar showing in many places. A fine layer of dust covered everything. Brose checked the two emerged to make sure they were still unconscious. They fitted a control collar about the necks of the ten Nazis and two emerged. Electrical jolts of various intensity from mildly annoying to unconsciousness could be administered.
One by one Brose popped an ammonia bubble before the nose of the Nazi nearest the door. Once awake, Dom took over and made them walk out of the shattered bunker into the waiting arms of other recovered Butt Kickers who had joined the entourage at the bunker. The Nazis were led to the assembly point outside the mess hall.
All but the emerged had been awakened by 0335 hours. Oberst Schroder was livid when Dom released him, especially when he realized Dom had been one of their brainwashed emerged. The raging man had to be jolted unconsciousness. The other Nazis were clearly shocked by the events and thankfully were quiet and subdued.
Damalis was up and functioning by then, so she joined Dom and Brose as they prepared to awaken the emerged. Damalis and Dom knew both Nazi emerged from their time with the Nazis. They woke Marc Weindt, a telepath, first.
Marc shook the cobwebs from his mind. Memories and terror came flooding back. The surprise attack, the fear of The Cat, the order to blow the ammo bunker, the horrible wait for the explosion, then the chaos of the blast. Looking up he saw three people, surprised because he recognized two of them... Brigitta and Franz! They'd been told everyone had been killed in the destruction of the Base! The third person, a girl with a steely glare, scared him. Tentatively reaching out with his telepathy talent he could tell his old friends were ready to use their talents on him. The third girl was unreadable... like she had some sort of shield... something he'd never encountered.
"I see you recognize your old friends," Brose spoke. "After we freed them, they changed their names. Brigitta is now Damalis and Franz is now Dominic. My name is Brose Shamrock, I'm the Warrant Officer in charge of the Butt Kickers."
Marc's eyes grew wide. The Butt Kickers! That was the unit The Cat commanded... This girl was The Cat! It took all his will power to keep from wetting himself.
"You know what Damalis and Dom can do so don't make this any tougher than it needs to be," Brose continued. "As you've already noticed, I'm immune to mental talents. If you try anything, I'll hurt you."
Marc was clearly terrified. The Cat was not threatening him, she was simply speaking the truth. That was a good deal scarier than a mere threat. Fearfully he nodded his understanding. All his bluster and bravado was gone.
While Damalis kept her senses tuned to Marc, they woke Werner Breiner, an empath. Werner felt the fear of his fellow Nazis and the satisfaction of his captors as his mind was jolted from it’s slumber. The memory of the horror all the Nazis felt on hearing Oberst Schroder’s order to blow the ammo bunker had almost knocked him out. For a few seconds he wondered if he was dead. As his eyes focused he saw three people with him, two of whom he knew... Brigitta and Franz! Since they had been killed in the destruction of the Base in Bolivia, he assumed he was dead and they had come to greet him to take him to Valhalla. But the third person, a girl with a steely glare, scared him. Maybe they were here to escort him to hell! Tentatively reaching out with his empathy talent he could tell his old friends were ready to use their talents on him. The fact he could sense nothing from the third person unnerved him even more... he'd never encountered someone he couldn’t read.
“Not feeling like much of a super man now, are you?” Brose taunted as she could feel his arrogance crumble. "Your old friends are now part of the Butt Kickers. After we freed them from the Base in Bolivia, along with new lives of freedom we allowed them to choose new names. Brigitta is now Damalis and Franz is now Dominic. My name is Brose Shamrock, I'm the Warrant Officer in charge of the Butt Kickers."
Freed from the Base? The Butt Kickers? Werner realized he was seeing The Cat! It had to be true that the Fourth Reich had been destroyed before it got off the ground. The belief in the infallibility of the Nazis that had been instilled in him since his birth was destroyed. His entire life and reason for existing had been destroyed! Now he understood Oberst Schroder’s order and wished he had been killed instead of being a humiliated prisoner.
"You know what Damalis and Dom can do so don't make this any tougher than it needs to be," Brose continued. "As you've already noticed, I'm immune to mental talents. If you try anything, I won’t kill you but I will hurt you."
Werner clearly understood The Cat was speaking the truth. An honorable death might yet possible! With an effort he tried to lunge at The Cat hoping to spear her against the broken rebar not far behind her.
Brose sensed his intent to try to hurt her but was unaware of the danger. As he rammed her she caught him in her arms and with her strength easily lifted him off the floor as she pivoted to eliminate his impetus. Only as she turned did she see the broken rebar and understood his effort.
“Werner, that wasn’t very nice,” Brose chided in the disappointed manner a strict nanny would use to rebuke a charge. “You will have to learn to play nice.”
Despite his efforts to wriggle free from her iron grasp, Werner was helpless. Fear began to grow as he realized The Cat was easily holding him with his feet off the ground. If she wanted, she could crush him! Memories of his past life as a weak girl pushed through his tough emerged masculine self. The fight slowly evaporated from his being.
Brose could feel his emotions changing. “If you promise to be a good boy, I’ll put you down,” Brose stated in a condescending voice that further eroded his bravado.
Werner nodded his head in defeat.
“You have a chance to join us,” Brose stated as she lowered him to the floor and released him. “Please don’t blow it.”
Werner was surprised by her offer. Why would anyone offer an enemy a chance to switch sides? He had a lot to think about.
By 0400 hours, everyone was gathered in front of the Mess Hall. The generator had been restarted so the area was now illuminated. Even Oberst Schroder was subdued as he surveyed the battered remnants of his command and the shattered camp that had been their base for nearly two months. Though it was difficult for the arrogant man to be intimidated, The Cat had done so. But he had not given up hope. The Butt Kickers still had to get them out of Mexico. Opportunities for escape or a glorious death might present itself if he was prepared. Unfortunately, he could see the men he'd commanded were defeated. If he attempted to plot something, the emerged would soon learn of it. All he could do was wait and hope when he made a move, the men he commanded would go with him.
Brose stepped out where all the prisoners could see her. Her face was covered by smudges from the explosion and recovery of the prisoners. The expression on her face was hard and unyielding yet did not hide her youth or how pretty she was. "For the benefit of our captives, I'm Warrant officer Ambrosia Shamrock. I'm the commander of this unit and we are the Butt Kickers. We're the ones who took out your main base in Bolivia. Your people that I’ve previously taken down called me The Cat."
The adult Nazis were stunned. They knew The Cat was a female, but they'd been expecting something like one of Wagner's Valkyrie warriors, not a pretty girl. Even Oberst Schroder was surprised.
"Marc and Werner have already recognized a few of the newer members of the Butt Kickers," Brose continued after a pause. "They were the emerged you held captive and had brainwashed. Despite what you may have thought, we took all the emerged from your base before we destroyed it. They have all been deprogrammed and have voluntarily joined us... even Erwin and your precious Elsa. I have little doubt that Marc and Werner will eventually join us. They can see the five we freed who are now part of the Butt Kickers are here of their own free will. They all had the option of not joining us but elected to do so. The adults among you will be evaluated and questioned. How you respond will determine what happens to you. For you, I can make no guarantees. There is a distinct possibility you'll be incarcerated for the rest of your lives. How you're locked up will be determined by your cooperation. We'll rest until dawn, then head out. If you don't cooperate, I'll have Dom, who you knew as Franz, take over your body again. We don't like to do that as we consider it to be raping the mind. But for you, we'll do it without hesitation. I suggest you get some rest as we'll be busy once we get moving."
Watch was set and nearly everyone curled up to take a short nap. Oberst Schroder was trying to think of a way to take out The Cat.
Everyone was roused at 0530 hours. The four rafts were quickly inflated. Their unneeded combustible gear and salvaged Nazi weapons were piled on a pyre and Blaze torched it. Tricia slagged the metal objects. After a quick meal, they loaded the rafts. The adult prisoners were led to the four rafts. Each had a bag slipped over his head and tied in place. Then they were tied face down to the floor of the rafts between the thwarts. Three each were placed into three of the rafts. Oberst Schroder was similarly trussed and secured into the forth raft. Werner and Marc also sat in the fourth raft.
It was 0610 hours by the time they launched and formed up on the still rapidly flowing stream and left the battered remnants of the camp. They tagged their flotilla raft one, raft two, raft three and raft four for their initial positions. With about ten meters between rafts, the current rapidly tugged them down the winding stream. Three members of the Butt Kickers sat on each side of each raft armed with paddles as they did their best to keep the water tossed crafts in the center of the watercourse and to avoid obstructions. By 0640 hours they had traveled the five kilometers down the Santiago to merge with the Rio Verde.
The confluence of the swirling waters spun the rafts in circles and it was a struggled to keep from being thrown against the river bank. Finally they located a relatively calm area just beyond the juncture where they were able to congregate and recover.
It took them a fem minutes to reorganize themselves, then they set of once more. The three kilometers to Ajoya went quickly and they slipped unnoticed past the still sleeping village at 0700 hours. Six kilometers further, they river made a hard right turn formed by a higher bluff that narrowed the flow and shot them through the corner. The third raft struck the high left hand bank and bounced away spinning in a circle while still being swept downstream. The first raft was able to snag the out of control raft and stabilize it to stop the wild spinning. While that was happening they were swept a half kilometer down stream where they encountered a rocky bluff on the right side that forced the stream into a hard left turn. By that time, raft two had overtaken the lead and was able to navigate the second sharp turn. Raft one and three were out of position and too close together. Both slammed into the bank and each other. Thankfully the sturdy rafts held up to the battering and they were able to regain control. Raft four made it through unscathed.
A half kilometer past that, they river widened and they once more sought shelter in a backwash. It was 0745 hours and they took a break. They had to take the hoods off the prisoners as several had gotten sick due to the bouncing, impacts, and spinning. Looking ahead they could see the stream entered a canyon with high slopes on either side. They knew from the maps this would be even rougher than the two turns they’d already been through. The three and half kilometer stretch would test their skills. They decided to go down one at a time, five minutes apart. That way they would not be distracted from their efforts to maintain control or risk trying to help another raft in trouble. Any misfortune a raft encountered would be over before the next came through the gauntlet.
Steeling themselves they cast off at 0815 hours. The initial five hundred meters was easily covered. The flow of the still rain swollen stream nearly doubled as it dramatically narrowed to slingshot them through a one hundred ten degree turn to the right. Once through that gauntlet they had an all too brief respite as the stream widened and slowed as it covered three hundred meters. Narrowing and speeding up again they shot through an eighty degree turn to the left. The next seven hundred meters was a fairly straight section that widened and slowed, only to end in an fast eighty degree turn to the left. The next two hundred meters slower straight portion was covered to quickly to allow them prepare for a narrow and fast one hundred twenty degree turn to the left. Once through that turn they were facing the first turn of the series and headed back towards that first turn for two hundred meters before entering a fast and narrow ninety degree turn to the right. At that point, separated by the high ridge they’d been winding around, the initial turn of the series was only four hundred meters away. They felt a bit cocky in their rafting skills after having a fairly trouble free ride through that section.
After that turn they had a straight run for half a kilometer run on a slower wide segment before another riachuelo entered the Rio Verde from the left as it made a ninety degree turn to the right. This turbulent turn spun all four rafts and banged them into the banks. Their cockiness quickly evaporated as the river let them know they were there only at it’s whim.
Three hundred meters of slower straight run culminating in a faster eighty degree turn to the left barely allowed them to pull themselves together. Two hundred meters of slower stretch ended in a wrenching eighty degree turn to the right followed by another two hundred meters slow straightaway into another eighty degree turbo turn to the left. The next wider slower three hundred meters stretch gave them a brief chance to catch their breath before speeding up through a seventy degree turn to the left. They felt as if they were riding on a soggy tilt-a-whirl.
Then came a wide slower five hundred meter long segment. Their relief was short lived as half way down this comparatively laconic float another riachuelo joined from the right. Fortunately they saw the swirling confluence in time to avoid the worst of the turbulence. After a last, gentler but still speedy forty five degree turn to the right the Rio Verde returned to gentle meandering.
Amazingly, all four rafts safely made it through the rain engorged torrent. That isn’t to say they went unscathed. All were battered and everyone had been bruised. Several paddles had been lost. The section they had entered was a gentle right curve. The main flow stayed to the outside of the curve leaving a much gentler flow on the right hand inside of the curve. All four rafts were able to beach on the right about half way through this one kilometer curve. It was 0905 when the last raft beached.
The crew of the first raft had started a fire and had hot beverages and rations ready for each raft as they arrived. A few scoured the shore and they were able to retrieve two of the five lost paddles. Three others were pulled out of back up. It was decided to launch at two minute intervals for the rest of the trip as the they could keep sight of each other while still having free maneuverability. They pushed off at 0930 hours.
At this point the Rio Verde spread out in it’s valley with corresponding slower current. This section was relatively calm and didn’t tax their strength. After completing the one kilometer curve a small riachuelo joined the Rio Verde at the start of a ninety degree curve to the left. Fortunately, the valley was broader at this point and the Rio Verde was almost a hundred meters wide so while it sped up, it was not nearly as intense as the earlier turns. The river continued straight and wide for the next kilometer before turning about eighty degrees to the right. Again a small riachuelo entered at the start of the curve, this time from the left. A wide straight stretch a kilometer long had a larger riachuelo enter from the right just past the midpoint. None of these mergers caused any issues. An eighty degree left turn led to a three hundred meter straight stretch ending in an eighty degree right turn with yet another riachuelo joining in the left elbow of the turn. Fortunately, the flow at the elbow was gentle since the river was almost two hundred meters wide. Five hundred meters on, the Rio Verde ended as it mixed into the larger rain swollen Rio Piaxtla four kilometers from their rest stop.
They entered the confluence with the Rio Piaxtla at 1000 hours. Although turbulent, the first five hundred meters was easy to navigate as it was quite wide. The next five hundred meters was tougher as it was a narrower eighty degree right curve that ended in a tight forty five degree curve to the left that was too fast to stay in calm water. They bounced through this section. Two hundred fifty meters on, a riachuelo entered from the left bank, however, the stream entered in an upstream direction which greatly mitigated it’s effect. Just after that joining the Rio Piaztla made a sweeping one kilometer long half circle right curve which promptly morphed into a smaller half kilometer long half circle curve to the left. While the water was turbulent, it was also wide and slow enough to safely navigate. The next three quarter kilometer straight stretch ended in a five hundred meter ‘S’ turn that severely buffeted them before straightening out into a wide kilometer long straight run. Then came a sweeping forty five degree curve half a kilometer long that brought them to the town of San Ignacio. The Rio Piaxtla formed three sides of the town as it curved around it for two kilometers. The only issue in navigating was the bridge that carried MF6 to it’s terminus in the town. At 1020 hours the town was just waking up from the celebrations of the previous night and few were about to notice the flotilla as it cruised past. None of the cartel people noticed as those assigned to watch were watching the road.
The mountains had melted into rugged foothills which allowed the Piaxtla to maintain a wide channel. Although still rain swollen their speed was slower than their descent of the Rio Verde and the going much easier. Four kilometers down the winding Rio Piaxtla, they passed the village of San Javier, seven kilometers further they went by an even smaller village. Eleven kilometers onward the passed the village of Ixpalino. Three kilometers on, they passed under the bridge that carried MF15 over the Rio Piaxtla. A half kilometer past the bridge they beached on a large tree covered island where the river widened to three hundred meters. It was 1300 hours and they paused for lunch and a siesta. The MF15 bridge was the demarcation line from the rugged cordillera to gentle hill lined valleys as the Rio Piaxtla neared the Gulf of California.
After resting for an hour they set out. Twenty six kilometers later they passed beneath the bridge that carried MF15D over the Rio Piaxtla. A kilometer beyond that was the town of Dimas and the bridge of the Sud-Pacific railroad. At 1600 hours they beached just upstream from the railroad bridge. Pfcs. Molina, Meledndez, and Hernandez led Emo, Windy, and Dom walked down the tracks and into town to buy fresh food and water, a normal procedure for rafters and kayakers who ventured down the Rio Piaxtla. It was a one kilometer trek to the market. It was 1820 hours when they returned. Emo and Dom had worked their magic on any townspeople who were curious about the new comers, leaving them thinking they were merely another group of crazy gringos who had came down the river
They set out once more and 1900 hours traveled the last four kilometers of the Rio Piaztla to reach the Gulf of California. Like many other river trippers, they set up camp to spend the night on the beach. Over a campfire of driftwood as they cooked up the food they had gotten in Dimas.
Brose reported in to The Center. Waiting off shore was the MV Klassen, the coastal freighter that had taken the Butt Kickers to Peru. Arrangements were made for a Center crewed Zodiac from the freighter to arrive at the beach at dawn. On board would be powerful outboard motors to attach to their four rafts. By noon they would all be safely aboard. The Mexican government had absolutely no idea a mission had even occurred. Even more important, it seemed the Sinaloa Cartel was in the dark as to the outcome of the mission. None of their observers saw the Butt Kickers drive out. In fact, they didn’t even know if the attack had even taken place. The mission had been another outstanding success for the Butt Kickers.
While delighted with the outcome, Brose was not satisfied. There was one item of business she felt she had to complete. Brose just couldn’t leave Jose in the hands of the cartel. After reporting on the mission, Brose broached the issue of Jose. It took little effort to convince Kris that rescuing the boy was the right thing to do. Naturally, Ms Fine was not happy with the idea, but had to yield to Kris. The only caveat Ms Fine insisted upon was that the prisoners be safely secured aboard the freighter. Brose quickly agreed.
*****
Brose at The Center
by Jennifer Sue
Part 10
The Rio Piaxtla entered the Gulf of California twenty two kilometers north of Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada’s secure compound on the coast. It had been easy for Brose to locate the compound from satellite reconnaissance photos. The site and most traffic in and out had been tracked since shortly after Brose had returned just in case the cartel decided to betray the Butt Kickers. Those analyzing the surveillance were sure Jose and Zambada were currently in the compound.
The first priority was to get their prisoners safely aboard the MV Klassen. The Butt Kickers were ready when the Zodiac arrived at dawn. Half an hour later they had the outboard motors mounted on their rafts. Several Butt Kickers transferred to the Zodiac so the rafts would be a little less crowded for the open sea powered trek. They shoved off from the beach heading to the spec on the western horizon. They made the twenty five kilometer to the freighter in four hours, arriving at 1000 hours. The transfer onto the waiting freighter went fairly easily. The only issue was with Oberst Schroder who had to be zapped and carried. As soon as they were aboard, the MV Klassen fired up her engines and set off southeast at full speed.
Brose stood before the cowed Nazis as they were all gathered on the deck and gave each a steely gaze before smiling like a cat about to eat the canary. “As I told you, how you’re treated will depend on how you cooperate with us. Oberst Schroder has set a poor example for you. You will not be allowed a chance to hurt anyone, including yourselves. Your chance to be a martyr for the Fourth Reich is forever gone. Since you still consider yourselves to be subordinates of Oberst Schroder and until you renounce his leadership, you will be treated as he is. Communication with each other is forbidden. The twelve day voyage to our destination will give you a taste of what your future holds if you do not cooperate. Use the time to think about your future. Enjoy your cruise... NOT!”
The adult Nazis were taken into the hold and chained every thirty feet down either side. Blankets were hung so they could not see each other. They could stand and stretch, but could only move on a five foot clanking steel tether. Buckets were provided for relief and bottled water for thirst. The plan was to bring them on deck one at a time for an hour a day on the twelve day cruise to Vancouver. Blankets were provided for sleeping and a dim light was maintained. Guards were posted and each prisoner had a video camera trained on them which along with the collars monitored their every movement. Any attempt to speak to each other was stopped by a judicious shock. They were to be kept in near total isolation during the voyage..
Werner and Marc stood with some of the emerged Butt Kickers in front of the stern superstructure and watched as Brose spoke to their former commanders. They were also able to watch the men being chained into their portion of the cargo hold.
As soon as she’d spoken to the Nazis, Brose spent time communicating with the Center intelligence department. True to their word, the Center interdictions in the drug smuggling had ceased with the capture of the Nazis. The Cartel was pleased as the Nazi’s were now out of their hair, but were also quite uneasy as they had no idea how the Butt Kickers had gotten in or out. The near utter destruction of the base and the dead bodies provided ample evidence they had indeed been there. Any lingering doubts cartel members had that the Butt Kickers had eliminated the base in Bolivia was gone. They were all were glad they had not had to cross paths and sincerely hoped they never had the misfortune to do so.
After traveling forty kilometers, the MV Klassen stopped ten kilometers off shore from Zambada’s compound at 1430 hours. Brose had briefed her selected extraction team during the trip and their equipment had been prepared. As soon as the freighter dropped anchor, Brose, Casper, Blaze, River, Emo and Dom along with Msg. McNeil, Cpl Michael, Pfc. Hernandez, Pfc. Melendez and Pfc. Molina headed back to Mexico aboard two Zodiacs.
The compound was built on a spit of land a kilometer and a half long north to south and a kilometer wide. A sizeable irrigation lagoon had been created by damming a nearby riachuelo about three hundred meters from the beach at the northern end of the spit. The compound proper had many trees and was five hundred meters north/south and two hundred meters east/west with a fifty meter swath of trees separating it from the lagoon while five hundred meters of forest stretched between it and the shore of the Gulf of California. The northern end of the compound was two hundred meters south of the dam breast. On the seaward side of the dam was the estuary of the stream, which formed the rounded northern end of the spit. A security building and patrols with well trained guards and dogs covered the northern coastal and eastern lagoon approaches to the compound. A dock had been built by the dam allowing boating access to the Gulf of California.
The one and half kilometer long coast of the spit south of the rounded northern end was rocky with virtually no beach. The inbound waves crashed against stone cliffs three to five meters high, with eroded rocks creating jagged projections that would destroy any craft that attempted to put to shore. Because of this, Zambada’s security deemed the gulf shore secure and only ran a once a day patrol. The coast south of the spit had a narrow sandy beach that was easily accessible from the gulf. The north/south coastal road was about eighty meters inland and the area between the road and the beach was open land for five hundred meters south of the spit providing a clear line of sight. As the spit began, the coastal road turned ninety degrees inland to the western shore of man-made lagoon. The north side of this portion of the road, the base of the spit, was treeless and open, a hundred meters wide for two hundred fifty meters away from the shore. Heavily armed and well paid guards and dogs patrolled and watched this access to the spit.
The neighboring small village was a kilometer west of MF15D. The village is square shaped about one half kilometer per side. There is a small town center with a church, typical of many rural villages. The tracks of the Sud-Pacific railroad run north to south along the village’s western border. A well maintained gravel road ran one and a half kilometers before it split in two, each portion about four hundred meters long, one running to the south/west and the other to the north/west, both crossing the lagoon. On the other side of the lagoon they linked with the north/south coastal road as it headed to the lagoon and followed the western shore of the lagoon to the north. A guard house and armed patrols on the inland side of the lagoon as the north/western branch crossed covered the area between the open area from the shore at the south of the spit and the lagoon. The three guard outposts covered all southern, eastern, and western approaches to the spit.
The Butt Kickers approached the compound cautiously so the ten kilometer trip took two hours. As planned, they headed for a location on the forested spit of land about five hundred meters south of the northern end where the dam created the lagoon. The location they landed was rocky, but it was also the western most part of the spit. It projected into the Gulf Of California fifty meters beyond the surrounding areas, thus splitting and diverting the incoming waves. This had created a twenty meter wide highly eroded section that was fairly calm with few breaking waves. In addition, the projection had been eroded to the point where it was possible to land the Zodiacs and pull them out of the waves. A narrow rocky but easily passable erosion gully had been formed which allowed them to ascend the cliffs into the forest. It was 1700 hours as they cautiously entered the forest. The compound was five hundred meters due east from their landfall.
It was 1800 hours when the reached the compound. Silently they followed the edge of the compound north for a hundred fifty meters to the road that led to the dam. As the area was out of sight of the guard posts, they were able to slip across to the other side. Then they made their way fifty meters south to the walled residential compound. The area had been thoroughly mapped out by satellite so they had no problems getting to the walled compound where Jose lived with Uncle Issy. By 1840 hours they had the lackadaisical guards spotted and Casper had placed unobtrusive cameras throughout the compound. Casper also ghosted into the security room and had no problem installing loops on the cartel surveillance camera feeds. They settled down to wait the completion of the final meal of the day for Mexicans, la cena. As expected, the meal took place at 1900 hours on the outside patio. Zambada, three women, and Jose sat about the table.
Zambada headed off to a private club at 1945 hours. As the others headed indoors, the staff cleared the table. At 2000 hours while the soldiers kept watch outside the walls of the hacienda, Brose, Casper, Blaze, River, Emo and Dom slipped inside. Casper ghosted in, then let the others know what was waiting. Emo projected depression into those they encountered. Dom probed their minds to locate Jose, then told them they needed to relieve their bladders. Once the coast was clear, they entered. Brose used knock-out gas to put those they encountered to sleep in the sanitary facilities. After vacating the gas, Casper ghosted inside to zip tie them in place and gag them even though it would be at least two hours until they awoke.
Jose was surprised to hear a knock on his bedroom door before it opened. Usually they just barged inside. His mouth dropped open in surprise when he saw Brose but it quickly turned into a broad smile. “You...”
“I’ve come to bring you back to the Center,” Brose said with a big smile as she felt her body begin to tingle. “I’ve got a team with me so don’t let them frighten you. We’ve got to move fast. Let’s go.”
Jose didn’t hesitate. He hated his life with Uncle Issy and since initially meeting Brose had been even more morose than previously. For Jose, growing up as an orphaned Mexican girl living with her grandmother in Ismael Zambada’s family, it had been ingrained into Juanita to be quiet and obsequious. She grew up a quiet and shy girl who kept her intelligence masked. Her transition occurred in Uncle Issy’s hacienda and had been witnessed by the staff and family. It was only due to the cartel’s fleeting familiarity with the Nazi mutants that they realized what Juanita’s change meant. Naturally, they kept Jose a secret, especially once they realized he was a human lie-detector. There was quite a house cleaning in the Sinaloa Cartel over the next few months which only cemented it’s position at the top of the heap. Jose was kept in his place and while treated well, was not allowed much freedom outside the hacienda. The quiet and shy girl never had much self-esteem. After the change, what self esteem Jose managed to build was torn down by the guilt his lie detection engendered over those who were eliminated.
The US emerged who had grown up as American girls had more freedom, independence and self reliance than Mexican girls growing up in a traditional macho environment. Most of the now male emerged at the center quickly adapted to their new gender. Self confidence was seldom a major issue for them. Jose on the other hand had never been allowed to adapt. Any attempt at self assertment was promptly shut down. Jose had even been contemplating suicide. It was only his Catholic faith that kept him from ending his life.
All her life Juanita found solace and escape in Romance novels. The strong, virile handsome men on the covers had set her heart aflutter and filled her dreams. One of the most popular and enduring models used to represent the idealized male lover was Fabio. With his rugged good looks, his powerful physique, wavy long hair and dazzling smile, he became the visualized ideal of Juanita’s long wished for knight in shining armor to come and sweep her off her feet and take her away from her humdrum life. When she transitioned, the dominant male image in her mind was Fabio. After completing the emergence, Juanita looked like a hunky teenage version of Fabio. Seeing her long dreamt knight in the mirror only served to frustrate her, especially since her sexual orientation had also changed. Once she became Jose, she found herself aroused by women but was constantly frustrated to see her former heart throb in the mirror.
Since he’d met Brose, she’d become the subject of his fantasies. She was strong, confident, and seemed unflappable. She hadn’t blinked an eye when talking to Uncle Issy! When she told Issy she wanted Jose to come to the firing range, he was thrilled, not only at the chance to get out of the compound, but to be able to spend time with his hero...ine! It had been awkward and difficult to hide his erection as he sat beside the confident girl. Then when she demonstrated her accuracy with the pistols, he almost swooned.
Since then, his dreams had changed. The knight he’d always dreamed of rescuing him had become a knightette named Brose. Now his dream had been fulfilled! She had come to carry him away! Jose opened his desk and pulled out a leather pouch that held a few treasures. It was the only thing he wanted. As they exited his room he was surprised to see three other teens, obviously emerged. Needless to say he was excited and eager to learn more about others like him! Brose quickly and quietly introduced them as they slowly they cautiously made their way down the halls. Jose almost jumped when a girl suddenly materialized in front of them.
“Two maids coming this way,” Casper said then smiled at Jose. “I’m Casper” she whispered to Jose.
Jose swallowed and nodded. Then his eyes almost bugged out as Casper faded out.
Brose concentrated for a moment, then the sound of two bodies falling was heard. As they turned the corner, he saw the servants passed out on the floor. Casper opened a door on a nearby room and River and Blaze easily carried the two women inside and secured them. In moments they were on the move. Jose was a bit unnerved to see none of the familiar guards at their posts.
“I put them all to sleep like the maids,” Brose whispered.
Outside, they headed to a door in the wall and stepped outside the hacienda where heavily armed soldiers materialized out of the encroaching twilight. Since they wore the same uniform as Brose and her friends, Jose rightly figured they were part of the rescue unit. It was 2015 hours. No alarms sounded and no one was aware of the rescue. By 2045 hours they slipped away from the compound into the trees heading back to the Zodiacs. With night vision goggles, the team easily made it to the shore in half an hour. By 2115 they were underway, heading to the MV Klassen. Still monitoring the surveillance equipment they had used, the compound intrusion alarm sounded at 2130. They reached the ship by 2300 hours. By 2310 they were underway.
Using the satellite hook-up through the Center and several land relay stations, Brose called Zambada. It took only a few moments after the call went through to the compound to have Zambada pick up the phone. Everyone in the chain of command had immediately moved the call up the line when Brose told them “I’m the Cat, I need to speak to Mr Zambada.”
“Mr. Zambada, you can stand down your guards,” Brose stated within a few minutes of placing the call. “You were never in any danger. I apologize for our methods, but I know our raid was the only way to get Jose to the Center. We did our best to minimize any injuries to your people. When I asked nicely for you to allow Jose to join us, you adamantly refused. We don’t like to leave our fellow emerged behind. We’re like a big family. In this case I’m going to stretch Center rules. Normally, we don’t allow any emerged to contact their family, but since you already know he’s changed, I can allow a bit of closure. Please get your sister, his grandmother, to the phone so you can both say goodbye to Jose. This will be the one and only time he’ll be allowed to speak to you.”
“Carlotto, get Marie, now,” Zambada spoke before returning to the phone. “I’ve seen photos of what you did to the camp. My men were shocked to see the utter destruction and death. You could have taken me out tonight, why didn’t you?”
“Mr Zambada,” Brose said. “Indeed I could have easily taken you out tonight. But we had a deal and I promised you our intentions were not to hurt you or your men. As I said when we first met, we stick to our deals. As far as the Nazi camp, we have the officers and the two emerged. I’m afraid the rest put up a fight. While we were in the area, I figured it would be the best time to get Jose since he was not part of any deal we made. In his room you will find a memory stick on his desk. As I promised we would do when we safely made it out of Mexico, it contains the details of how we tracked the border crossings. Use it as you will.”
“I appreciate your honesty and not hurting me or my men,” Zambada stated. “So, will you tell me how you got in and out?”
“All I can tell you is I led four other emerged in, accompanied by five soldiers,” Brose stated. “We used our emerged talents. I took out the Nazis in Bolivia in a similar manner.”
“Ismael, Jose is missing,” a nearly hysterical woman called out as she entered the room.
“Jose is gone but he is not missing,” Zambada told his sister. “He has been taken by other mutants who call them selves ‘emerged’. Jose told you about the girl from the US that was here a few weeks ago. She and her friends came back for him. They are good people and I think Jose will be happy with them. I have them on the phone. They called to let us know he is safe and went with them willingly. Jose would like to say goodbye.”
“Jose...,” Marie gasped as she grabbed the phone proffered by Zambada. “Are you safe? Did you want to go with these people?”
“I’m fine, Abuela,” Jose stated to the speaker phone. “I’m safe and happy to be with my own kind. I’ll always love you and keep you in my heart. Tell Uncle Issy I love him too even though I hated doing the things I did for him. This is best for all of us. I love you Abuela, goodbye.”
“I love you too, Jose,” Marie wept just before the line went dead.
Jose broke down in tears. Brose hugged him. Once he settled, they all turned in for the night. Both Brose and Jose had rather erotic dreams.
The next day as the MV Klassen began to round the tip of the Baja peninsula, the Butt Kickers gathered on the deck. Brose introduced Jose to everyone then to the surprise of Marc and Werner, their collars were removed. The former Nazi emerged members of the Butt Kickers, Putin, Casper, Bones, Damalis and Dom moved to sit on either side of Werner and Marc. The duo recognized Jose from their encounters with the Sinaloa Cartel. They had not realized he was an emerged. The two were clearly confused and apprehensive. They certainly had been treated differently than the adult Nazis. They had watched the five emerged they knew who had switched sides since their capture. While obviously serious about their jobs, they were also clearly full members of the team. On top of that, they actually seemed satisfied and happy with their situation. The Cat had told them they would be given a chance to join the American emerged. It seemed to be a genuine offer, especially since they had delayed their departure from Mexico to rescue Jose.
“I guess you’re wondering what happened to us,” Dom began to speak. “Brose happened. She’s as tough as she seems. Seeing her use a weapon is mind boggling. She simply does not miss. We’ve seen her with two fifteen round 9mm holstered pistols. She’ll stand with her back to the firing range while five people on her left and another five on her right stand behind shields down range every twenty five yards out to one hundred twenty five yards away. Each has three one inch diameter clay ball targets At a signal from the range supervisor, each tosses their targets into the air one at a time as rapidly as they can in different directions. When the first balls are tossed, Brose is signaled. She turns and draws her pistols, independently yet simultaneously aiming and firing to take out all thirty targets before they hit the ground. You heard her during the fire fight we had the other night, that was her with her .50 caliber Desert Eagle taking out guys. Someone died with every shot. She’s able to sense when someone is going to stick their head out to fire and has a bullet in them before they can squeeze their trigger. The .50 caliber slug can blast right through small trees and even cars.”
Werner and Marc had heard the big .50 cal barking repeatedly during the fight. The distinctive sound was terrifying. They knew that all emerged had abilities, apparently the Cat was a deadly marksman.
“What’s weird is that weapons expertise is not her emerged talent,” Damalis spoke up. “She was a marksman before she transitioned, honed her skills hunting rats on her uncle’s hog farm. The change simply amplified her previous abilities. She’s also immune to mental attacks and probes. Not only that, she can follow the mental trail of the person who tried to ping her. That’s how she was able to take out the other emerged she encountered in fire fights. She also can also locate people by their strong emotions. She can’t probe minds, but she feels them, she says she can ‘smell’ their fear. That’s how she locates and targets opposition soldiers.”
“But that’s her secondary skill as an emerged,” Bones added. “Her primary ability is to create gases. She can make smells like flowers, or a dead body, or create methane and add a spark. She took you out in the bunker by sucking out all the oxygen. She could just as easily have pumped in cyanide. She got into the base in Bolivia by breaking into the air circulation center and pumped the base full of knock out gas. By the time Nazi reinforcements arrived, we’d all been rescued.”
“How did you know you were being rescued,” Marc asked.
“Because our bosses never trusted us,” Dom replied. "They had our area fully monitored visually and with audio. Everything we did, everything we said was being watched. To top it off they had a tank of Zyklon B hooked up to our vent system. All they would have to do is hit a button and we’d have been dead. The blast door on the staircase was to trap us inside so they could kill us if we became too dangerous. We all knew they mistrusted us. We were simply tools. They treated us well but kept us segregated. Brose discovered our situation and told us. Once the bastards knew we knew, they slammed the blast door and tried to gas us. The Butt Kickers froze the Zyklon B pipes and valves, then dug their way under the blast door to rescue us. After that, we cooperated.”
“If they had wanted to kill us, they could have let them gas us,” Bones stated. “They could have killed you too, especially after what you tried to do to Brose. Look, it’s like Brose said. The Center is a good place. We have nice rooms, go to school, train in our skills, and some of us go on missions. The Butt Kickers are the only offensive unit. The others are rescue and clean up units to bring in the newly emerged or clean up a messy emergence to keep our existence a secret. Give them a chance.”
Marc and Werner were confused. They didn’t doubt their quarters had been rigged to kill them. But they had been indoctrinated in the Nazi credo all their lives. Their only source of doubt was they had been girls growing up, second class citizens in the Nazi scheme. After they’d transitioned, their female past was held against them as making them somewhat less than the ideal Nazi superman.
The next several days were relaxing. Except for the holds, Jose, Marc, and Werner were allowed full run of the ship. They joined in the daily rigorous exercises the Butt Kickers endured. They began to feel a sense of freedom and comraderie they had never before experienced. They were also told they had to select new names and should decide before they reached port. Marc became Curt Harris and Werner became Hank Bruce. Jose asked to access a computer to look up some information. Limited permission was granted, and his internet connection was routed through The Center where it could be monitored for search purposes only. Jose accessed an Irish-English dictionary and name etymology sites to select his name. In honor of his knightette he decided to become Ambrose Seamrá³ige (Seamrá³ige is the Irish word for Shamrock).
The Butt Kickers could see the mutual attraction between Ambrose and Brose and all chuckled at the honorific selection. The duo blushed at the good natured ribbing that ensued. Amborose was quickly shortened to Amb, pronounced AM-BEE.
Just before noon of the sixth day, a US Navy MH-53E Sea Dragon helicopter arrived having flown out of the San Diego Naval Base. With a capacity of fifty five troops, it was easily able to load the Butt Kickers, the three newly acquired emerged, and the ten Nazi prisoners. The prisoners were bound hand and foot, gagged, ears plugged, and bags tied over their heads before they were carried from the holds and loaded aboard the chopper. The Butt Kickers and their three emerged guests boarded last. Amb and Brose sat next to each other. It was amusingly obvious to the others the awkward twosome was infatuated yet neither had ever had any experience in such close personal relationships.
The chopper landed at Munn Field on the US Marine Corp base at Camp Pendleton where a Department of Homeland Security jet, actually from the Center, was waiting. They arrived at the Beta site airfield two and a half hours later. When they touched down, the Butt Kickers remained on board until the adult Nazis had, one by one, had their feet untied but otherwise kept in their enforced individual isolation to be taken to solitary confinement deep inside the mountain base. Even Oberst Schroder was subdued as he was led out.
Much to the relief of Curt and Hank, they and Amb remained aboard the plane with the Butt Kickers. As soon as the prisoners were off loaded, they took off for the Alpha site base. It was 1730 hours when they boarded a bus for the short ride to The Center. Once inside they marveled at the open and brightly lit corridors as they were promptly taken to the cafeteria where they were stunned by the number of emerged they saw clustered around tables eating and talking freely.
Upon seeing the Butt Kickers arrive, the entire cafeteria stood and applauded. Brose called the Butt Kickers to attention, then as a unit they saluted their fellow emerged. Cheers rose from those present. The Butt Kickers had once again successfully completed their mission.
Once the excitement calmed down, Brose led her unit plus three guests through the line to select their food. Needless to say that was an eye opening experience for the three newly arrived emerged. Never had they seen such variety. Memories of family feasts from Curt ans Hank’s childhood made their mouths water. Amb had never gone hungry, but the variety was mind boggling. After they filled their trays they headed to a section where several tables had been pushed together.
Michael, Mindy, Elaine, Edwin and Natalie were waiting for them. They greeted the Butt Kickers with enthusiastic hugs, then turned to greet Amb who was obviously nervous and sticking as close to Brose as he could without touching her. They instantly understood the pair was on the way t becoming a couple. The five smiled then turned to Curt and Hank.
“I’m Elaine now,” Elaine smiled as she introduced the other’s of their group.
“Believe it or not, I like it here,” Edwin smiled. “They’ve helped me get my anger under control and I’m doing well.”
Needless to say, Curt and Hank were more than a bit overwhelmed by their open reception. The fact that Edwin had certainly changed and no longer seemed menacing went a long way in helping them accept this place was real. For Amb, the entire experience was invigorating. No longer was he a lone mutant. He was one of the emerged!
As they ate, most of the other students stopped by to welcome the Butt Kickers back and to welcome Amb, Curt and Hank.
Brose stood as she saw two emerged approaching. “Amb, Curt, Hank, I’d like to introduce our commander, CW2 Kristyn Keys, and the commander of the Alpha site, WO1 Max Stevenson.”
Tony, Curt and Hank stood and apprehensively shook hands with the no nonsense looking commanders.
“Relax,” Kristyn smiled which broke the tension. “Welcome to the Center. You seem to be making an attempt to fit in. I like that. Unfortunately, you’ll have to be debriefed and restricted until we’re sure you can be trusted.
“These are collars we all wore when we arrived,” Edwin explained as hefted a bag that had been by his chair and dumped the bag of collars on the table. “They won’t hurt you but can knock you out if you get out of control. They also track your location. The good thing is that all the Butt Kickers and each of us will also wear one until you’re able to be released. We do it to show you we are with you and support you. You won’t be humiliated by being the only ones to be collared.”
As he spoke each person who had eaten together picked up a collar and locked them in place about their neck. Elaine handed the last three to Amb, Curt and Hank who meekly accepted them and placed the collar upon themselves. The significance of being allowed to collar themselves was not lost on Curt and Hank.
“Thank you,” Max smiled. “Putting the collars on was your first test and you passed. Curt, you’ll be rooming with Michael. Hank, you’ll be with Edwin. Amb, you’ll be with Dom. They’ll be your guides for the next few days as you learn your way around, are debriefed and learn the rules. Welcome to the Center.”
Amb, Curt and Hank were more than surprised. They’d expected to be locked up. But they were being given rooms with other emerged. This place had definite possibilities.
The Butt Kickers were debriefed the next day. Due to their cruise, they were allowed only a day of light duty to relax before moving back into their routine of classes and training.
Amb was debriefed and cleared in two days. It took two weeks for Curt and Hank to shake their programming. They readily cooperated with their interrogators answering any and all questions. No one missed the fact that Amb and Brose were nearly inseparable during their free time.
Except for Oberst Schroder, the captured Nazis also spilled everything they knew. While there was little of value learned since the Fourth Reich had been fairly well gutted, there was quite a bit of incriminating information added to the heaps of evidence against the captured Bolivian Nazis. A few links to other terrorist contacts were also revealed. The Nazi and AZIF threat had been utterly vanquished.
*****
Epilogue:
For Brose, her life changed. Taking down AZIF and the Nazis had become an obsession. It was only since AZIF had been eliminated that she fully realized that for the first time in her life she had true friends. Her life-long solitude had been vanquished during her crusade. In addition there was Amb. His manly good looks and sculpted body seemed totally at odds with his vulnerability. Yet those attributes made him all the more appealing to Brose. When still Dave, macho guys had been his worst tormentors so now it was no surprise that cocky guys simply did nothing for Brose. She spent a lot of time with Amb, helping him to feel better about himself and his life. With a girl as physically powerful and self confident as Brose, he could let his guard down and simply be him. By the time the control collars were removed, they had become a couple... an odd couple even for The Center. A type A personality strong, confident girl who learned to enjoy her femininity and a ripped handsome guy with a type B personality... they meshed wonderfully. At a quick glance Tony appeared to be the ideal romantic man with a pretty girl clinging to his caring arm... they would make a great cover for a romance novel. In reality, it was Tony who was clinging to Brose. Both were quite happy with their relationship... they were in love... something Brose had thought she would never find.
MMRROWWLLL!