Team Omega (35 page)

“Tell her we got him,” Triple A said.  His other two bodies appeared—his main power was splitting himself into three people, who thought and acted as one—and started to pick up the General, despite his injuries.  “The General himself, right here.”

The General cursed as a second person appeared beside him, someone who looked perfect, too good to be true.  His tongue started to feel for the suicide pill, but it was already too late. 

***

“We need to leave the base,” the Sergeant said.  “Captain, we’re sitting ducks here.”

Jackson heard them as he checked and rechecked his weapons.  Team One had been supposed to be on the helicopters thirty minutes ago, but the aircraft hadn't shown up.  Part of the national command network appeared to have been taken down, while the TV kept screaming hysterical reports of nuclear war and fighting right across the nation.  None of the reports seemed to make any sense.  Some claimed that Washington had been destroyed, others that they’d heard directly from the President, who had apparently stayed in the White House.  Jackson had no problem understanding that the media would often broadcast rumour as fact, but it was clear that
something
had gone badly wrong. 

“I don’t disagree,” Lane said.  There was a moment when he looked down at the blank laptop, and then stood up.  “Grab your weapons; we’ll move out of the base to...”

An explosion cut off his words, followed by a thunderclap that seemed to strike the entire base.  Team One was on their feet instantly, holding their weapons at the ready, but they had no idea what was going on.  The siren started to howl outside, warning that the base was under attack!  Jackson had never heard the siren sounded for real inside the United States. 

“Ron, Jackson, escort Lane to the final room,” the Sergeant ordered.  Jackson blinked in surprise, but started to obey.  “Everyone else, follow them and...”

The building shook as someone crashed right through the door, landing in front of the soldiers and coming towards them.  None of them hesitated; they opened fire and blew the mutant apart with their weapons.  But others would be on the way, Jackson knew, and from the sounds outside it was unlikely that there would be any help from the rest of the base.  Another mutant appeared at the broken door, snarling at them with a disconcertingly human face.  A close-quarter grenade exploded under the creature, and it was blown into bloody chunks.  And then a third superhuman appeared.  Bullets just bounced off this one...

“Go,” the Sergeant ordered.  “Now!”

“There's no point in trying to run,” the superhuman said.  He sounded almost...
bored
.  “I can take you all, and...”

“Go,” the Sergeant repeated.  He lunged forward, lifting his oversized fist.  Absurdly, the superhuman didn't even bother to duck; he practically invited the Sergeant to hit his chin with his fist.  An ordinary human might not have been able to hurt him, but the Sergeant had been enhanced...his fist slammed into the superhuman's jaw and smashed him right out of the barracks.  “Go, I said!”

Jackson caught hold of Lane and dragged him down the corridor as the superhuman flashed back, only to be caught and held by the Sergeant.  The files on enhanced humans had made alarming reading; very few were any match for a genuine superhuman.  He cursed himself for running as the Sergeant held off their enemy, trading blows with a person who could kill them all without breaking a sweat.  How long could he hold out...?

The final room sprang open, revealing a device he'd only been briefed on after being promoted.  If superhumans could teleport, a number of scientists had wondered, surely the trick could be duplicated.  They’d come up with an experimental model that worked—mostly—but was considered too risky to use in anything other than the direst emergency.  The Sergeant had evidently decided that this counted.  Jackson slapped his hand down on the activation panel as they stumbled onto the pad and braced themselves...

He cursed as the door smashed open, the sergeant’s body flying through and crashing to the ground. Jackson watched in horror.  His chest and fists had been superhuman, but his legs had been those of an ordinary man.  The superhuman advanced towards them, blood trickling from his nose.  He wanted revenge...

...The teleporter activated and whisked them away, just in time.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“An enhanced human,” Hope said.  The first reports had come back, reporting success.  “I thought there were treaties against producing enhanced humans.”

“I doubt that this one was an American creation,” Mainframe reported.  “Judging from the peculiar mix of racial traits, I’d say that he came from South Africa rather than the United States.  I don’t think any of Dr. Death’s creatures could be blamed for what he made them.”

Hope shrugged.  The South African Diaspora had scattered the former apartheid regime’s enforcers everywhere, so there was no reason why one of them couldn't go to America and join the United States military.  He would probably have been a child at the time, ensuring that there was no blood on his hands—at least until he’d joined Team Omega.  Hope wasn’t unduly surprised to discover that there was a team designed to kill superhumans—he would have done the same in their place—but it was disquieting to realise just how much success they’d had over the years. 

But they were broken and scattered, and the American military establishment was about to go down hard.  What trouble could they cause in the future?

Dismissing the thought, he turned to look at his forces as they gathered in the park.  Thirty-seven superhumans, all Level 3 or higher, were ready to invade Washington.  The advance teams had crippled the forces the United States could direct against them, successfully destroying much of the SDI and the mysterious Team Omega; now it was time to end it before the Americans regrouped and started launching nuclear weapons at the Congo. 

“Let’s go,” he said, quietly.  “Open the gate.”

Gateway nodded. A shimmering portal appeared in front of Hope.  He led the way through the light and into Washington, appearing in front of the White House itself.  Smaller teams would target the Pentagon, Congress and the Senate, and the handful of military installations around the city, paying particular attention to Langley and Fort Meade.  He had hoped, without any real expectation that he would be lucky, that the Americans would have decided to surrender without fighting any further, but a hail of fire from Marines stationed around the White House convinced him otherwise.  He gritted his teeth as he flew up into the air, seeing a pair of attack helicopters moving in on an intercept vector; how many lives was the American government prepared to throw away, merely to maintain themselves in power?

A Hellfire missile slammed into him and sent him tumbling towards the ground before he managed to recover control and throw himself at the nearest helicopter, smashing right through the metal and leaving the wreckage falling to the ground behind him.  The second helicopter danced back, firing at him and the advancing superhumans.  Hope attempted to ram it, but it cut power and dropped like a stone instead.  He felt a moment of admiration for the pilot before catching the spinning blades and pulling them away from the helicopter.  The main body of the craft plummeted towards the ground and crashed into the White House lawn.

Poor bastards
, Hope thought coldly. 
But they chose the wrong side
.

Fighting spread throughout the core of Washington as the Marines fought savagely against the incoming superhumans, joined by policemen and a core of what looked like security guards from corporate headquarters.  Hope ordered the superhumans to concentrate on the fighters alone, warning them to avoid the fleeing civilians as best as possible.  He would have preferred to round up everyone who worked in the Pentagon and the other buildings and hold them, at least until he knew who he’d captured, but the last thing he wanted was for civilians to be caught in the crossfire and killed.  It wasn't as if the defenders could stop him.

Shaking his head, he turned towards the White House and rocketed towards the main door.  A handful of Marines had turned it into a small fortress, using machine guns and rockets to hold off the other superhumans. But that wouldn't work against him; Hope smashed right through the barricade at superhuman speed.  One of the Marines tackled him directly, something that shocked him until he realised that the Marine intended to detonate all of his grenades right on top of him.  The golden spandex he wore was torn by the blast, but it couldn't penetrate his skin.  He watched as the remains of the Marine fell to the ground and shook his head, sadly.  First the pilot, and now this.

The American government didn't deserve such men working for them.

He tapped his communicator as the fighting grew louder.  “Mainframe?”

“I’m into the secure communications network,” Mainframe reported.  His computer skills were second to none—and besides, they’d pulled some of the codes they needed out of General Kratman’s head.  “I can shut down most of the systems now, but I don’t know if that’s all of them.  The President might still be able to launch a nuclear strike.”

“Shut them down,” Hope ordered.  “And then take over the Emergency Broadcast System and issue our warning.”

The American Government
hadn't
issued any warning to the civilians, although Hope doubted that that was actual malice.  They simply hadn't had time between the first attacks and the invasion of Washington, DC itself.  But someone would have to warn the civilians of the dangers facing them...

“Understood,” Mainframe said.  “I’m afraid that I cannot locate the President, either.”

“Not to worry,” Hope said, as he started to walk through the White House.  It had been seven
years
since he’d entered the building, when President Cheney had given him a medal for saving lives in Florida after a hurricane, but he forgot nothing.  Inside, the building was almost completely deserted, apart from a handful of people he heard cowering inside the West Wing.  He doubted they included the President, so he ignored them and kept walking towards the Oval Office.  “I’m sure we’ll find him soon.”

***

“Mr. President, we need to
move
!”

The reports from the surface were terrifying.  A handful of Marines were still holding out, but it didn't look as though they’d be able to stop Hope from tearing his way into the White House or anywhere else.  The Pentagon had already fallen, while Congress’s guards reported that they were stuck inside the building, unable to evacuate the Congressmen who had remained in Washington to debate recent events.

Chester took a gun from one of the Secret Servicemen and helped the President to his feet, pulling him towards an access tunnel that led even deeper underground.  The President seemed stunned, unable to believe what was happening; his companion, the USAF Major carrying the Nuclear Football briefcase, was staring around wildly, his hands clutching the football as though it was a newborn baby.  Chester had considered advising the President to launch a nuclear strike, but where could they have targeted and been certain of taking out Hope himself?  Washington itself, with the American citizens all around it?

“We’ve lost the direct links to NORAD,” one of the computer operators shouted.  “The system is being shut down from the inside.  Even emergency channels are going down.”

“Damn him,” Chester muttered.  One of the Saviours had an unwholesome link with technology, giving him the ability to insert his mind into computer links.  He wouldn't have any trouble shutting them down once he managed to get inside, using his uncanny insight into how computers operated to bypass passwords and other security precautions.  “Seal this level, then prepare to purge these computers.”

The access tunnel led down to one of Washington’s best-kept secrets, the underground link to a classified military installation outside Washington, DC.  A small car awaited the President and his staff, ready to whisk him away down the tunnel and away from the disaster gripping the capital.  One of the Secret Servicemen ran over to the controls, tapping commands into a system that had never been used for its intended purpose—until now.  The hatch at the end of the room hissed open, revealing a darkened tunnel as the President and his escorts climbed into the car, ready to flee the city.  Chester felt a shudder running through the ground and shivered, wondering just what Hope was doing above them.  Someone as powerful as Hope wouldn't have any difficulty in finding the secret tunnels, assuming he knew to look for them.  And Hope had been trained by the SDI. 

“Security checks out,” the driver said.  The vehicle hummed to life, just as another shudder ran through the complex.  “I’ve sent a ping ahead of us to warn them to prepare to evacuate the President as soon as we arrive.”

Chester nodded.  Hope would presumably find the tunnel and follow it, which would lead him directly to the military base.  Sadly, the planners hadn't anticipated an armed invasion of Washington when they’d drawn up the emergency procedures.  But once they were there, they could get the President into a small aeroplane or a ground vehicle and get him away from the scene.  What they’d do then was an open question, but at least the President would be safe. 

The vehicle jerked and sprang to life, heading towards the tunnel.  Chester moved his lips in silent prayer as the darkness swallowed them, the hatch swinging shut behind the car. 

Maybe, just maybe, they would make it in time.

***

The Oval Office was almost exactly as Hope remembered it, apart from the mound of papers scattered on the floor, suggesting that its occupant had left in a hurry.  Hope looked around, reluctant to damage the room any more than necessary, looking for the secret panel he knew had to be somewhere in the room.  No competent protection service—and the Secret Service was among the best in the world—would have wanted the President to have an office that didn't include a secret way out; all he had to do was find it.  One part of the wall seemed less ornate than the rest, suggesting that someone had wanted to keep it clear.  Hope reached out, tore at the plaster and metal that made up the wall, and saw the shaft leading down into the underground complex.  Smiling, he dropped down and landed in front of a solid metal door. 

Bracing himself, he hit it with all his strength.  Astonishingly, the hatch only moved a few inches, despite the force of his blow.  Someone had designed a very good system, he told himself as he hit it again and again, eventually knocking it down to reveal an underground control centre.  But it hadn’t been good enough. 

A handful of soldiers fired on him the moment he emerged, their bullets bouncing off his chest and ricocheting around the room.  Hope ignored them as he looked for the President, but there was no sign of him.  He’d come into this room, and then...

...Gone down the next shaft, he realised, as he walked towards the hatch.  The soldiers and the operators they were supposed to defend ran out of ammunition, but Hope ignored them as he wrenched open the second hatch and dropped into the lower levels of the complex.  It wasn't as if they could do anything to stop him without communications, now that Mainframe had taken down most of the communications network.  The rest of the Saviours would round them up soon enough. 

The next room confused him, at first, until he spotted the hatch at the far wall.   Someone had effectively set up an underground station under the White House and hidden a vehicle for the President to use to make his escape.  He tapped the controls thoughtfully, only to discover that someone had wiped the programming routines from the system, probably to impede pursuit.  Hope shrugged, walked over to the hatch, and started to press it carefully, before throwing caution to the winds and hammering on the metal until it broke.  Inside, the tunnel was dark and cold, but in the distance he could hear a vehicle humming with life.  They couldn't hide from a superhuman in the darkness.

Hope flew down the tunnel, catching up with the President’s car effortlessly.  One of the Secret Service agents turned, saw him and opened fire with a pistol, hitting Hope eight times out of nine.  The bullets simply bounced off his invulnerable skin and he lunged forward, ready to grab the President...

...And the Secret Serviceman hit him hard enough to send him crashing back down the tunnel.  Momentarily stunned, Hope got up and saw the agent standing between him and the President’s car, ready to fight to hold him off.  A superhuman, he realised numbly, hidden in plain sight right next to the President as the final line of defence.  He cursed himself for not anticipating the other superhuman’s presence, and then hurled himself at the agent.  If he’d been Level 5, he would probably have been in the SDI rather than being assigned to the President.  Hope hit him with enough force to shake a mountain and saw the agent stagger backwards, before striking back himself with superhuman strength.  Not a flyer then, part of Hope’s mind noted; probably nothing more than strength and near-invulnerable skin.