Shadow Ops 3: Breach Zone (8 page)

Chapter Five

Hold What You’ve Got

We now have what the world is calling a second ‘Gate-Gate’ scandal from the United States. This scandal confirms the revelation that America, in collusion with the Republic of India, has been operating in the alternate magical dimension known as ‘The Source.’ They have done so without respect to the security interests of this body, or the input of its members. This brazen colonialism is nothing more than what we’ve come to expect from these two powers. Which is why we have now assembled member nations from both ASEAN and the SCO to demand this body conduct a full investigation into the extent and the intention of this collusion, and take appropriate action to safeguard the interests of all member nations.

– Peter Tan
Singaporean ambassador to the United Nations speaking before the UN Security Council in the wake of the ‘Second Gate-Gate Incident’

Harlequin watched the Chinooks circle overhead. The huge helicopters shed altitude, ground crews moving the T-shaped concrete barricade walls that hung from their undercarriages into place. They had mostly completed an impromptu wall around Battery Park, the gaps filled with sandbagged machine-gun positions. A navy Seabee unit directed another Chinook, lowering the top of a guard tower onto hastily constructed supports.

Harlequin could see a few of the enemy, less than a thousand feet away, still in numbers too small to mount an assault. But not for long.

‘No!’ he shouted into the radio handset, jerking to the side and forcing the RTO whose backpack it was connected to to stumble along behind him. ‘I need
all
your T-walls. I don’t care if you don’t have the fuel budget for this. I need you flying nonstop sorties. We need to keep this foothold, and that’s not going to happen if we can’t get a perimeter up. What part of “from the president himself” don’t you understand?’

A knot of civilians huddled by Castle Clinton’s entrance, already outnumbering the soldiers inside the barricade wall four to one. Some were burned and bleeding, all looked ragged, exhausted, and thirsty. They needed water. They needed medical attention that his tiny force couldn’t possibly provide. Most importantly, they needed to get the hell out of here.

Harlequin looked up as a thin-skinned Humvee drove in through a gap in the barricades and rolled to a stop in front of him. Hewitt stepped out of it, in battle gear, with Knut and two more soldiers.

Harlequin saluted. ‘Good to see you here, sir.’
Unless you’re going to break my balls. In that case, go fuck yourself.

He looked back at the radio. The supply officer at the other end had taken his sudden distraction as an excuse to hang up.

Hewitt scowled but returned the salute. Knut didn’t have to be reminded this time.

Hewitt gestured at the T-walls. ‘You haven’t wasted any time.’

‘There’s no time to waste. I’m being sucked dry by bureaucrats at Fort Dix. They sent the one helo flight’ – he indicated the Chinooks – ‘but we need more if we’re going to get this park walled off.’

As each Chinook dropped off its T-wall, it landed long enough to take on a load of refugees before taking off back in the direction of New Jersey and safety, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

‘I’ve got more T-walls inbound from Hamilton and Wadsworth, too. I’m talking to the Coast Guard about making sure your back is covered.’ Hewitt indicated the water behind him. ‘There’s some kind of problem there. They’ve got a ship underway that’s not coming in. This’ – he indicated a yellow New York City school bus that was even now unloading a platoon of soldiers – ‘is something, at least.’

Harlequin met Hewitt’s eyes. He knew how much this man must bridle at helping him. He’d make it as easy as he could. ‘Thanks, sir. I’m glad to have you with me. I’m going to need a New Yorker to help me understand the lay of the land.’

Hewitt snorted. ‘I’m from Ohio. I was transferred here from Fort Bliss, Texas, a few months ago. I don’t know New York, but I know it’s my responsibility to protect it, no matter who the president puts in charge. So, let’s get this straight. This is my ground, and I’m covering it. I’ve spent some time in the manuals since you came on scene, and there’s definitely some wiggle room over jurisdiction. I’m not going to tug my forelock and step aside while some . . .’ He swallowed, calmed himself with an effort. ‘While you take over. I’m here, and I have a voice in how this action is handled.’

Harlequin considered arguing, decided to bite down on his pride. Hewitt was determined, and his rank was nothing to sneeze at. He’d played the military trump card, wasting your opponent’s time. Countering him would require hours of his own spent poring over joint-service publications and incident-command-structure manuals. Any argument would have to be followed by an appeal up the chain, which would make him look weak and incompetent and underscore the lack of confidence the rest of the military had in him.

He shouted over to the soldiers piling off the bus. ‘Get that bus loaded up with refugees!’ The civilians surged at his words, and his soldiers had to shove them back as they began picking the closest to load on the bus.

‘Battery Tunnel is closed,’ Hewitt said.

‘Then open it,’ Harlequin replied. ‘I don’t have the supplies or the manpower I need to care for these people. We keep them here, and not only will they die, but they’ll take us with them. Every one of them we can get out of here makes our chances that much better.’
And these are the people we joined the Army to serve.
He left the thought unspoken, but Hewitt’s expression showed he understood it as well as if it had been said aloud.

Harlequin wondered if he’d pushed the man too far, but the colonel nodded and barked a command to one of his soldiers, who jumped back into the Humvee and spoke into the radio as the bus, crammed with civilians, trundled off toward the tunnel entrance.

Harlequin turned back to Hewitt, relieved. ‘I’ve set up an ops center in the monument.’

Hewitt and Knut fell in beside him as they made their way to the old fort. ‘So, you’ve done your recon. What’s the SITREP?’

‘There’s some kind of . . . rent in the planar fabric, like a Portamantic gate.’

‘Like what you used in Gate-Gate,’ Hewitt said.

Harlequin ignored the barb. ‘It was Oscar Britton who used it, but yes. Except this one looks . . . rotted open. Or, it’s being rotted bigger.’ Scylla, standing among the monsters, head craned up at him.

They moved past a bronze sculpture, a paean to the immigrants who had made this city great. Harlequin thought of the latest arrivals through the widening gate and shook his head at the irony.

‘Rotted?’ Hewitt’s eyebrows arched as they entered the main gate. The wooden portcullis was wedged permanently open, but Harlequin had bulletproof police barricades with windowed tops dragged into place on either side, each manned by a soldier. Inside, Cormack was hard at work setting up the video-teleconference system on a plastic folding table outside the Statue of Liberty ticket-sales desk, already looking forlorn and deserted. Soldiers bustled to and fro, carrying pallets of bottled water, crates of ammunition, radio equipment.

This old fort hadn’t been occupied by real soldiers for over two hundred years. Suddenly, it was a military hub at the center of what could be the most important operation in the country’s history. Harlequin felt the weight of that history on his shoulders for a moment. It made him tired.

‘I’ve done some looking around myself,’ Hewitt said. ‘Most of these goblins are half our size and using bows and arrows. There are some bigger monsters in there, but they’ve got no real ordnance.’

‘There was a prisoner at FOB Frontier,’ Harlequin said as they took seats at the plastic table. ‘A Negramancer of considerable power . . .’

‘Excuse me, a what?’

‘A Witch, Colonel. A Probe with power over decay. When Oscar Britton ran, he let her out, and she nearly took half the base down in the process. Her name was Scylla. Well, that wasn’t her real name, but all the prisoners we held there took new names, and that was hers.’

‘So? What about her?’

‘She’s here, Colonel. She’s leading this invasion.’

‘How do you know?’
I’d know her anywhere
.

‘I saw her when I reconned the enemy position. I saw the gate, I saw her using her magic to widen it. And that’s not the only thing I saw. The bulk of the attacking force are the same goblins and giants that tried their luck with FOB Frontier the entire time I was there. They’re nothing you can’t handle. FOB Frontier was surrounded by them for ages and was able to fight them off. But there’s also a large contingent of
Gahe
.’

Hewitt froze, his cheeks sagging. ‘You mean . . . the black things . . . from the Apache reservation? How the hell did they get here?’

Harlequin found himself grateful that there was at least one aspect of this fight he wouldn’t have to explain. ‘They’re not from the reservation, Colonel. We think they got there the same way they’re getting here . . . through some kind of tear in the planar fabric. The issue is that we’ve only ever fought them in ones or twos before. From what I saw, there are dozens, and more coming.’

‘They’re worse than goblins.’ Hewitt made it a statement, but Harlequin knew it for a question.

‘They are,’ he said. ‘For many reasons, but the most important one is this. As far as I know, they’re completely impervious to conventional ordnance. The only thing I’ve seen that can hurt them is magic.’

‘We need the SOC,’ Hewitt said.

‘We do,’ Harlequin said, ‘and I’m about to get them here.’ He motioned to Cormack.

‘How many?’ Hewitt asked.

‘All of them.’ Cormack typed on a ruggedized laptop computer, then gave a thumbs-up as the connection was passed to a large flat-screen monitor that dominated the table’s far end.

The VTC popped up, showing an office interior. The far wall was dominated by the American flag crossed with a gold-trimmed red banner showing three white stars. The same number of stars marked the shoulders of the man seated behind the cherrywood desk. He had a craggy face, shadowed eyes, and a butcher block of a jaw. His buzz-cut hair had gone gray long ago. If it were any longer, the bald spot would be prominent. As it was, he looked more stone statue than human.

General Gatanas, Commandant of the Supernatural Operations Corps. That he hadn’t been relieved of his command following the FOB Frontier debacle and Walsh’s impeachment was a testament to Porter’s commitment to the old order.

‘Lieutenant Colonel Thorsson,’ Gatanas said. ‘I was expecting this call some time ago.’

‘I took an opportunity to recon the enemy infil point, sir. Frankly, I’m glad I did. This is a lot bigger than we thought it was. I saw . . .’

‘Who’s this?’ Gatanas asked, gesturing at Hewitt.

‘Colonel Hewitt, sir,’ Hewitt replied. ‘I’m the CO of Fort Hamilton in Brooklyn. This is my AOR.’

Gatanas ignored him, looking back at Harlequin. ‘What’s going on?’

Harlequin sighed internally. ‘The silver lining here is that we now know where Scylla is.’

‘In New York?’

‘Leading the enemy, sir. The infil point is some kind of interplanar rent in the middle of Wall Street just outside the New York Stock Exchange between overflow offices and Federal Hall. It looks like she’s using her Negramancy to expand the opening. When I did my overflight, it looked to be around fifty feet square, maybe larger. The attacking force is coming through there.’

‘I heard it was goblins and some of those giant birds.’

‘They look critically weak on air support right now, sir, but I’ve got a feeling they’re remedying that as they speak. I’ve set up a command post on the southern tip of . . .’

‘I saw goblins when I was at the FOB, Lieutenant Colonel. Even in numbers, they’re weak, disorganized.’

‘I know sir, but . . .’

‘And if you say they lack air support, why can’t we just call in Apache squadrons from Dix? Doesn’t the Air Force have fixed-wing strike assets at McGuire right next door?’

Harlequin took a deep breath and spoke slowly. ‘Sir, this is one of the most densely populated cities in the country. This attack came without warning. While we’ve been able to evacuate a lot of civilians, there are plenty of people trapped in . . .’

‘The Breach Zone,’ Gatanas finished for him. ‘That’s what we’re calling the operational environment.’

‘The Breach Zone. You don’t want gunships raging in there. And they won’t help anyway, because Scylla has reached some kind of understanding with the
Gahe
.’

Gatanas leaned over the desk, cocking an eyebrow. ‘They’re there? How many?’

‘Dozens? More? I saw them coming out of the . . . Breach, sir. I doubt I’ll be able to get eyes on the target again anytime soon.’

Gatanas steepled his fingers under his chin and closed his eyes. ‘That’s bad.’

‘Yes, sir, it is. So, you understand the urgency of this next request. You know the
Gahe
are only vulnerable to magic. I need the Corps’ QRF scrambled. I need every asset you can spare. We can’t afford to have this breach spill its banks, sir. I need the whole SOC, every man and woman.’

Gatanas kept his eyes closed. ‘No.’

It was a moment before Harlequin could speak. ‘Sir?’

‘No. You can’t have the SOC. I can give you . . . Fornax, Carina, and Cephalus Covens.’

Harlequin hammered his fist on the table. Both Cormack and Hewitt jumped. ‘Respectfully, sir, are you kidding me? Those are
training
Covens. I don’t have time to babysit a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears Novices! They’ll do more harm than good!’

Gatanas kept his eyes closed for a long time. At last, he opened them, turned to his computer, and punched up an inset screen that appeared in one corner of Harlequin’s monitor. ‘I’m patching something through now. Take a look.’

The inset showed grainy camera footage piped in from a helmet-mounted camera. The soldier wearing it was sighting his carbine around a chunk of dusty rock, loosing three-round bursts toward a low cinder-block wall. Men with long, black hair in flannel shirts returned fire, until one of them leapt over the wall, rocketing toward the soldier, lightning streaming from his hands. Something huge and black shifted in the camera’s periphery, stutter-flashing past. Then the camera spun, and Harlequin heard screaming. Static.