The Last Mission of the Living (The Last Bastion Book 2) (20 page)

“Shit,” Torran grunted.

“We really need to get off the streets.” Lindsey pointed at a flock of aerial drones flying over the nearby buildings.

Together, they dashed up the sloping road to the massive entry point to the Central Sector. Others were hurrying inside, and Lindsey caught sight of Hobbes and Franklin among some of the Constabulary squad members. The group rushed through just as the large door started rolling down.

“Just in time,” an SWD soldier shouted at Torran and Lindsey from the guard post, waving them through.

Lindsey and Torran sprinted the last few feet through the entrance before the barricades rose out of the ground to prevent anyone else from attempting to enter.

“You know what this means,” Torran panted.

Lindsey flinched. “They’re going to send us out sooner.”

The massive door slid shut with a loud thud that reverberated through the night.

“Why can’t anything be easy?” Torran asked the world in general.

Lindsey lightly touched his arm. “Because this world is fucked.”

With a sigh, he nodded. “Let’s find out how bad it all is.”

Together, they walked toward the SWD Facility.

* * *

Lindsey slung the bag filled with newly issued uniforms, underwear, and toiletries over one shoulder, left the small dorm room she’d been assigned to, and trudged across the quad to Torran’s flat. Until the crisis was over, she was not going to be able to return to her home. Though the dorm room was nice enough, she wasn’t going to spend the night alone. She’d messaged Torran, so she wasn’t too surprised when the door immediately opened for her.

Slipping inside, she saw the news playing on the vid screen. “How bad?”

“Riots in most of the sectors,” Torran answered as he locked the door behind her before returning to where he’d been sitting watching the news.

Lindsey tossed the bag of her new possessions onto a chair and collapsed onto his couch. Checking her wristlet, she saw more incoming data from both the Constabulary and SWD command centers. By morning, she was certain the specifics of their mission would be changed.

Slouched next to her, Torran glared at the screen. “It was a deliberate leak. Someone told the media before the government could initiate crowd controls. Someone wanted this to happen. The wanted the bloody chaos in the streets.”

“Kirkpatrick’s people?”

Torran shrugged. “Who the hell knows anymore? But then again, who else would it be?”

Lindsey didn’t dare name her second suspect. Maybe Legatus Martel decided to speed up the primary mission to launch the secret one in a faster time frame. Or maybe Lindsey was just being paranoid.

“How’s your folks?” Lindsey knew Torran’s family was near one of the warehouses under siege by rioters.

“Fine for now. Ma is terrified. Da is pragmatic. He moved their garden tubs into the kitchen as soon as they got the news. My brother and an uncle are helping them guard.”

“Your sister?”

“Their building pulled up the stairs and are working together to protect their resources. The kids are scared, and no one is certain how they’re even going to get their rations with things as chaotic as they are.”

“Shit. This is awful.”

“The question is: will the higher ups give us twenty-four hours of prep, or thirty-six? And the altered schedule isn’t about allowing us enough time to get ready. I’m sure if they had their way, we’d already be leaving right now. It’s about giving the president time to roll out a big production around our departure.”

Slumping into his side, Lindsey exhaled with fatigue born of both mental and physical exertion. “You mean we’ll have to smile for the cameras.”

“Look somber and resolute for the cameras, you mean.” Torran slung his arm about her shoulders, snuggling her against his body.

“First my leg then this... I fucking hate propaganda.” Lindsey shut her eyes, blocking out the images of the civilians panicked in the streets. Some mothers and fathers had risked the curfew to take their children to the Central Sector gates to hold up their crying children for the media cameras to record. Closing off the sectors had only made the crisis worse. Now rumors were spreading through the feeds that only certain sectors would be receiving food rations.

The Bastion was engulfed in turmoil.

“Someone is playing a very dirty game,” Torran said at last.

“And we’re at the center of it.”

“Yeah.” Torran kissed her forehead, then said against her skin, “but we can’t give up hope. We’re so close to so much good happening.”

“You mean the first crops being planted? Our mission?”

“I’m sure other good things will come, too.”

Lindsey stiffened slightly. Did he mean capturing Dwayne and Maria? “Like what?”

Tilting his head back to rest it on the rear of the sofa, Torran pressed his fingertips to his bloodshot eyes. “Hell if I know. I just hope something positive comes out of all of this.”

Teeth tugging on her bottom lip, Lindsey stared worriedly at the live coverage. They were safe behind their walls, far away from the pandemonium. It seemed wrong until she realized that very soon they’d be facing the Scrags for the sake of the people rioting in the streets.

“Linds, we should sleep. I’m sure they’re going to call us in early.”

“You don’t want to wait up for the president’s speech, Torran?”

“Nah. It’ll be the same old, same old. Smoke and mirrors. I’d rather fall asleep with you in my arms than listen to him yammer on.”

Lindsey kissed his chin tenderly. “You’re such a romantic.”

“Another reason why you like me.” Torran lightly brushed his lips over hers. “Admit it.”

“I admit to nothing but wanting to sleep!”

The playfulness between them was fun, but she found herself studying him as they switched off the news and set about readying for bed.  Would she be able to tell when he was informed of the secret mission? And how would the SWD and Constabulary teams end up being split apart out in the field?

When Lindsey snuggled into Torran’s side a short time later, she wondered if the night’s events were just part of some greater conspiracy that she wasn’t yet aware of. Her mind churning, she was half-tempted to climb out of bed and hack into the grid. Instead, sleep snatched her from the waking world, and she fell into a deep slumber.

Chapter 19

Torran watched the squad moving rapidly through the training room. The holographic projection of the loading site at the Beta City depot looked disturbingly real. The exterior of the building was flawlessly rendered. Lindsey had created the simulation using the crystal clear images downloaded from the drones. Sunlight poured through the open bay doors and the shriek of the Scrags filled the air. The interior schematic was to specifications found in the databases, but shouldn’t have changed over time due to being sealed off.

From Torran’s position on the observation deck, he saw a few of the SWD soldiers drifting off their assigned path.

“Carter and Ramirez, you’ve overshot your objective,” he said into the comm.

The two soldiers’ immediate course corrected.

“Could you have made the Scrags a little less noisy?” Torran asked Lindsey.

The simulated screeches from the Scrags clearly had some of the soldiers rattled.

“I matched the sound frequency of the hordes outside the walls,” Lindsey answered with a shrug.

“Of course you did.”

Both officers were dressed in the stealth armor. There wouldn’t be any updated trials on the suits and the first real test would be on the field.  A good chunk of their day had been spent maneuvering with the squad through the simulation multiple times. There were still issues with the team, so Lindsey and Torran had retreated to the observation deck to observe and come up with solutions.

Chief Defender Solomon had been called away, which Torran was certain was not a good sign. The bureaucracy wanted its fingers in the mission, and the chief defender had spent long hours in conferences while the squad practiced.

Several of the Sci-Techs ignored two large containers, continuing toward the next one.

“Thompson and Grier, why are you ignoring those two containers?” Lindsey asked into the comm.

“They were contaminated the last three missions,” came the reply.

“We can’t afford to skip any containers in the real mission, Grier. Check them.” Lindsey glanced at Torran. “How many hours?”

“Fourteen straight. They’re tired and it’s affecting them.” Torran picked up a packet of water and tore off the top. “We have to let them get some sleep before deployment.”

“I wonder what the word is on that?”

Torran gulped down the water and tossed the packet into the recycle bin. “Damned if I know. Can’t you do your…” He mimicked her typing, insinuating she should be doing her hacks.

“I wish, but I have a job to do.”

Isolated in the training rooms, they weren’t privy to the news reports on the unrest enveloping the city. When Torran had awakened, the SWD had already restricted the feeds to his and Lindsey’s wristlets. It was common practice for when soldiers were on the battlefield so they wouldn’t be distracted by incoming messages from family and friends, or vids from the news or entertainment sites. It had annoyed Torran even further when he realized they’d done the same with his vid screen. The SWD Facility was on lockdown, and the communication blackout was unsettling.

“Initiate a Scrag breach,” Torran said to Lindsey.

“They’re tired,” she remarked.

“They’ll be tired out there, too.”

“True.”

Fingers sliding over the console in front of her, Lindsey modified the program. A minute later, the simulation altered as Scrags poured into the food depot. Instantly, the pilot of the tiltrotor (who was strapped into her own simulation) reported the breach. The soldiers reacted by activating their stealth suits. Small cameras within the lining of the armor filmed the surroundings then projected the images onto the fabric -- which was basically a malleable screen -- creating the illusion of invisibility. This time, the squad responded much speedier than before.

Torran pointed to the Sci-Tech team located near one of the containers. Their suits were working, but one of them was attempting to move behind the container. The pattern on the suit shifted and instantly drew the attention of one of the A.I. Scrags. It let out a screech, then attacked.

With a sigh, Torran killed the simulation. The hologram instantly vanished, leaving the soldiers standing in a large room with blank walls. Their armored suits flickered, then returned to their normal appearance.

“Shit!” someone grunted.

The Sci-Tech that had been attempting to hide covered his facemask with one hand as those around him let their annoyance be known.

“Okay, I will explain one more time. The suits are only useful when the Scrags are in close proximity if you stand still.” Torran set his hand on the top of the console and leaned forward to stare into the room. “Once they are up close and personal, your suits will not be able to properly stealth your movement because the internal cameras will also be recording the images of the Scrags. Since the program dictates that the suit is not to record life forms, it will struggle to delete the Scrags from the projection, which causes it to flicker. Which means...”

“You’re now a Scrag, Tech Harrigan.” Lindsey gave him a thumb up.

“Or a nice bit of paste in your suit,” Torran added.

Shoulders slumping, weapons dangling at their sides, the squad grumbled as they wandered about. The pilots stepped out of their smaller sim rooms on the second level and leaned over the railing.

“We going again, sir?” one called out.

“Negative, Scoggins,” Torran responded. “Let’s take a break. Protein shakes and water are in the mess hall.”

Torran glanced over at Lindsey to see her watching the playbacks of all the mission sims side by side on the screen stretching across the console panel. Below, the squad unhooked their weapons and pushed them into the armaments locker, where a robotic arm swiftly grabbed the firearms and tucked them into the racks.

Sliding his fingers through his hair, Torran exhaled as the last soldier exited the room, leaving him alone with Lindsey. “Bloody hell.”

“It’s not that bad. They’re doing better than they should be, considering all the distractions,” Lindsey said, not looking up. “We’re just having issues with actual coordination between the three divisions.”

“But they’re one squad.” Torran grunted.

“Not yet, but they’re getting there.” She gave him a quick sidelong look. “You should go get a protein shake, too. And bring me back one.”

“I shouldn’t leave you with all the work,” he answered.

That brought a smirk to her lips. “I like work. It makes my brain feel… happy.”

Torran scoffed playfully. “We can’t all be extraordinary geniuses with minds like computers. Yet, I do okay with my regular old brain.”

“Yes, you do. It’s lovely.” Lindsey paused the playbacks and pointed. “There is a direct view from the storage area to the outside once the loading door is open. In each simulation, the program extrapolates that this zone as a problem spot.” She specified a corner of the outer fence. “We’re in line of sight.”

“Which stirs the Scrags up.”

“In the original images, there was a series of sheds here. Over time, they collapsed. Now they’re bunched up against the fence. We’ve been worried about the evac site, but this is where our breach will be.”

“But if we close the doors, we add time to our removal of the containers because we’ll have to reopen the entrance again. Which will definitely ensure we get rushed by the Scrags.”

Lindsey set her hands on her hips and her fingers tapped against her armor. “We have to cut our mission time down and expect the breach.”

“Fuck,” Torran muttered.

The doors behind them opened and Chief Defender Solomon entered. Her short hair was pushed back from her face by a black headband, giving her an even sterner appearance.

“Where is the squad?” she asked.

“On break,” Torran responded.

“Dismiss them. We leave in seven hours. We need to be at the depot at daybreak.”

“We have a problem in the mission specs,” Lindsey said, gesturing to the playbacks.

“Then resolve it before morning.” Solomon’s voice was tight. Torran wasn’t sure if it was with fury or some other emotion. “President Cabot himself will be attending our departure. He has made it implicitly clear to me that success is of vital importance, and nothing short of success is acceptable.”

“He’ll have it,” Lindsey replied.

Torran wasn’t too sure he shared Lindsey’s confidence, but he nodded. “Consider it done.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you in the briefing room in the morning.” Solomon turned to leave, but then turned back. “Rooney, I want the revised mission specs to me within the hour. Then get some sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the doors shut behind the chief defender, Torran swiveled toward Lindsey, his arms crossed. She was staring at the playback footage with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“I’ll dismiss the squad and get us shakes and water. Then we’ll do this
together
,” he informed her.

Lindsey nodded, her eyes never wavering. She had the look that frightened yet intrigued him. Daring to risk the cameras watching, he kissed her cheek.

Startled, she looked up at him, then slowly smiled. “Thanks.”

Torran gave her arm a light squeeze before striding out.

The squad didn’t complain when he dismissed them upon entering the mess hall, but they did look disgruntled at the news of their early morning departure. Grabbing two shakes from the dispenser and several bags of water, Torran hurried back to the training room.

Entering, he saw that the simulation was running again. Lindsey stood near the doors with her pad in one hand, craning her neck to gaze up.

“The cargo ships are going to cause a big commotion when they land, right? Which is why weren’t not letting them set down until the last minute and we’re disembarking on the roof.”

“Right...” Torran handed her a shake, already opened.

Looking faintly annoyed by the interruption of her train of thought, she took it.

Though he hadn’t said anything, she was looking slimmer than when they’d first met. A lot of it had to do with stress. He’d noted that she tended not to eat when fixated on a problem.

“Drink. One swallow.”

Lindsey scowled, but obeyed. Once she gulped some of the liquid, she instantly continued her litany. “So we’re coming down along the exterior catwalk and stairway, right? Part of it is over these loading doors we have to open to enter the storage area.”

“Right.” He tapped the bottom of the protein drink she was holding.

With a sigh, Lindsey guzzled down the whole thing and handed him the empty container. “I checked the SWD inventory, and I’ve got good news.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“This stuff...” She pulled on the material that was attached to the exterior of his suit. “They have more of it. Bolts of it. So we just need a screen big enough to cover the doorway. We can hang it from the rail above. I already have the dimensions we need. We just need a roll of the stuff and an aerial drone to take a snapshot of the closed doors to display on the screen.”

“It’s clever and might work.”

Lindsey sighed. “We don’t have enough time to make the screen to the exact specs we’d need to ensure success. The internal workings of this suit are impressive, but it’s all old parts. But if the screen can hold up for the ten minutes allotted to check the containers, it could work to buy us time before the Scrags come over that fence.”

“You’re a genius. You know it. Send that to the chief defender. She can crack the whip to get it made. And let’s call it a night.”

Glancing into the fake daylight, Lindsey sighed. “I still think this should be a night mission.”

“We’ve got no choice. The higher ups are worried about the aircraft. They’ve been mothballed for a long time and the pilots are used to sim craft, not real ones.”

Lindsey exhaled, then lifted a shoulder. “Our people haven’t been out on the field all that often either. Cloak of night would greatly reduce the visibility of our squad.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Torran said, then took a sip of his own protein shake. It was rather tasteless and far too thick.

Lindsey was silent as she sent her updates to the chief defender. When she was done, she showed him the message. She’d included his name. He appreciated her devotion to their partnership in leading the squad.