TWO DELTA INDIA ECHO
J P Robertson
Copyright 2015 J P Robertson
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Chapter 1
The morning was unseasonably warm in Duntroon, and it had been for the last week. The Sarge reminded them it was God shining his good graces on them, but Jack knew better. It was actually the seventh layer of hell creeping into the advanced training camp. It was all part of the psychological warfare the programme was waging on the soldiers, making them stronger, powerful.
The next six months were an intense series of physical, mental, and emotional journeys that were designed to create the next generation of soldiers. They would be capable of dealing with the tortures of war, in all of its meanings, and return combat-fit. There would be no more shell-shock, post-traumatic stress disorder, or any other condition that was plaguing the military at present.
“So Jack, you still haven’t explained what all that has to do with our current situation”.
“Well, Slim, there are two points to note. Firstly, we were neck deep in crap just like we are now. Secondly, that training camp was where I learned all the whiz-bang skills you are about to see”.
“Oh, you a regular Rambo, huh?”
“Something like that. Just stay close to me, like the order said, either of us get caught, the bet is off”.
Dressed in faded and torn denim and leather, they looked like a pair of dishevelled street urchins. It wasn’t too far from the truth, but they made sure anyone who crossed them might believe their bullshit story. Being near the 3rd Quadrant, they may be able to get away with wandering into the wrong area.
There was a lot of talk as to why MDC had a facility at the edge of the 3rd Quadrant. Most of it was around the idea that the authorities didn’t bother to go down that way often. Even though MDC was now the most influential organization in the region, they weren’t above the law, yet. No matter what way you looked at it, the best option was always to steer clear of the area, which most people did without a second thought.
Jack and Slim were now inside the unofficial cordon, but there were no fences or signs to show for their effort. The ground between them and the main research building was scattered with mounds of spoil and rubble from the construction of the quadrant platform. Light from the occasional rotation of floods danced across the peaks, almost taunting them to look up. As they got to the end of the rubble, they carefully surveyed their position.
“So, uh, what the hell, Rambo. How are we supposed to get across THAT?” Slim’s voice was sounding a little concerned, and a little like he just wet himself.
“You know those skills I talked about, well time to watch and learn, Monkey Boy.”
Jack slowly raised into a crouch, as though he were in the starting blocks for an Olympic sprint. He waited for the floodlight to pass, then ran. As he launched, a strobe light popped up about twenty metres in front of him. In a single motion he pulled his pistol, dropped to a slide, and shot a bolt at the strobe as three darts skimmed above his head. As he recovered there was a blue flash to his right. Jack used his momentum to roll forward, springing into a run as the dart clipped his boot.
Looking ahead he regained his focus and saw a flurry of blue-tinged objects coming his way. He saw the movement pattern and threw himself into an off-axis twist, allowing him to see the darts change red as they passed him and headed into the rubble.
He slipped as he landed, and realized not all of the red halo on the darts was from his enhanced vision. He felt a sharp heat on his left flank, and looking down could see a small red patch growing on his torn jacket. Damn, getting old.
Jack was now at the side-entry door to the nearest hanger. He waited in silence for a minute, not moving, just listening. There was nothing. He winced as he touched his side, the good news was it wasn’t bleeding much, the bad news was his urchin jacket would need to be tossed after this. It was a cruel world.
The electronic field scrambler Jack was pushing against the access pad was a sure-fire trick to get past the outer access doors, according to Cindy. Now it was time to see if it was just a fling, or Cindy wanted Jack to be around later. The flashing screen and audible click from the door bolts suggested the latter. I could kiss you right now Sin.
Jack waved Slim over, who hurried across the gap in a half-crouch. He looked like a cross between the hunch-back of Notre Dame, and a tweaker on the dance floor. How the hell do I get tied up with these muppets. It was a rhetorical question Jack often asked himself, as he knew it was just God taking the piss out of him.
“Nice work Jack, I thought you were full of crap.”
Jack looked him up and down, “Oh, that’s great coming from you, monkey boy.”
“Stop calling me that, Jack, it’s Slim and you damn well better respect that.”
There was a momentary pause as Jack tried not to burst out in laughter. He figured he’d get this out of the way before he found a more derogatory nick-name for his temporary side-kick.
“Sorry bro, didn’t mean any disrespect. Now, if we’re done with this hallmark moment, can we get our crap together and finish our raid on the top-secret files from the government-funded weapons development facility? Or would you like me to give you a hug?”
Slim pushed past Jack and headed through a long corridor. It seemed to go on forever, or maybe that was just the way it felt to Slim, all of this sneaking around business wasn’t his game. They got 50 metres down before stopped to look at the message on Jack’s bio-pager. The message simply stated ‘Wait 15 seconds, then return’.
The 15 seconds felt like an hour, but soon enough it was time for their exit. Jack had pre-arranged a diversion with Cindy when they got back to the exit, but there was a problem. As they neared the door, Jack saw a shadow approaching from the adjacent corridor. He moved without hesitation around the corridor and came face to face with an armed guard.
The next few moments were a blur. Jack spun into a low sweep, knocking the guard off his feet, then pulling his knife, swept across the guards torso. The strike missed, and without hesitation the guard rolled and pulled his weapon. There was a gunshot, and Jack froze, it was a reaction he had trained himself for to allow a quicker assessment of the situation. After a brief moment, he realized Slim had fired the shot. The guard fell, and instantly had a pool of blood forming around his head.
“Sorry Jack, I thought he was gonna stick ya!”
Slim was frozen, still holding his old fashioned Glock G41. Jack saw the puzzlement on his face and knew he needed him to kick back into reality.
“First kill, Slim?”
“I, uh, yeah, I, uh, guess it was.”
“Well don’t look back Slim. And I mean that in every way, we need to get the hell out of here now. So, holster that piece, and run like a fugitive!”
Jack led the way as they exited the building. They burst to the outside, and instantly the entire complex went dark. A low repeating siren wailed, with only the moonlight shining on the two. The attack had been planned to allow their clean escape, but Slim was dragging his heels. This was no time for reflection and Jack could see their plan, and fee, dissolving in front of his eyes.
“C’mon, Slim, get your crap together!”, Jack was yelling over his shoulder, knowing his words were falling on deaf ears.
Jack had to mak
e a decision, try to pull Slim through this and fix his head later, or leave him behind, and let the guards take care of his head. Today, unfortunately, was not Slim’s day. Jack sprinted for the mounds, Slim was going to have to find his own way back tonight.
He heard the gunshot report from three rounds, none were near him. When he got the the first berm, he rolled over the lip, and quickly got into a prone position and looked back. There were two guards standing over a low silhouette on the ground. They weren’t looking elsewhere, which meant Jack was clear. For some reason he didn’t seem too excited about the situation.