Dark Rising

TWENTY-FOUR

On a sunny afternoon on the other side of the world, Major Jack Hammerson sipped his coffee and watched a live feed of the Persepolis site from a recalibrated orbiting satellite over the Middle East.

It was just after midnight in Iran, and from a height of about 1000 feet the light-enhanced Persepolis ruins were a dark greenish-blue, the angular shapes of the Apadana, Throne Room and Treasury only vaguely visible. He zoomed in on the image to just a few hundred feet above the age-old buildings.

As he took another sip, he saw the human-shaped specks of light closing in on one of the ancient structures, then smiled as a dot of white flashed out from the surrounding hill line to touch on a glowing point at the ruin’s perimeter. It repeated again, touching on another area, and then again. There were quick muzzle flashes from near the ruins – and the white dot raced out to touch the muzzle flashes, which immediately stopped. The pattern repeated six more times before it ceased.

‘Hmm, looks like the KBELT works just fine,’ the Hammer said out loud.

His phone rang and he lifted the receiver to his ear while taking another sip of the steaming coffee. His eyes never left the screen as he spoke. ‘We’re on the ground… insertion successful. Yes, sir.’

He listened, then his computer beeped as a packet of new information was received. He read it quickly. ‘Understood, sir. Supplementary energy pulse information acquired – redeployment to new target is ASAP.’

His caller spoke again and Hammerson’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Don’t worry, sir. We’ll have the technology soon… or no one will.’

Hidden among the rocks, Hex looked along the smooth end of the KBELT and lined up another of the Takavaran as he ran towards the entrance to the Jamshid I facility. He pressed the trigger and a million-joule energy pulse of super-compressed emitted light leapt from the muzzle to touch the man on the forehead. He dropped immediately. By the time the light was visible, its trail had already disappeared, which, combined with the soundless discharge, meant the Takavaran were at a loss to pinpoint its origination point.

Lagudi slammed into the rocks just down from Hex and Irish and held his pistol up close to his chest. Hex motioned one-handed to both men to hold fire – he knew his weapon would be the most efficient, and silent, in the dark desert.

Irish had Hex’s sniper rifle and he aimed at one of the last two black-clad men. Over the distance and in the near total darkness, it was a shot that even Hex would have struggled to pull off. Irish fired and missed, fired and missed. The noise of the gun and its muzzle flashes gave the Takavaran the origination point and they fired in a continuous volley up at the HAWC, forcing Irish to hunker down behind the rocks. Then they began to advance, taking turns to shoot while the other scurried twenty feet closer to Irish’s position.

Hex cursed under his breath: they were good. He aimed the KBELT at the nearest Takavaran and pressed the button trigger. The Iranian fell forward into the dry sand, close enough to his comrade that the smoking, red-black burn hole in his temple was probably visible. The last man leapt to take shelter behind a large flat-faced boulder. As he dived, he pulled a small radio from under his robes and began to dial in a signal. Time had run out for the HAWCs – their position was about to be compromised.

Hex broke cover and stood. He moved the KBELT’s calibration down to the broader range low-energy pulse and pressed the button twice. The effect was startling: two golf ball-sized spheres of lightning flew towards the flat-faced rock. The first smashed the boulder into smoking shards of debris; the second did the same to the concealed Takavaran. Stone and flesh rained down to the dark sand for many seconds afterwards. Hex raised his eyebrows. Satisfying result, he thought.

The last echoes of the explosion bounced off the mountain, rolled across the desert basin and then out to the wide, cold plains. Silence once again fell over the ancient Persepolis ruins.

Hex looked up at the sky. Please let there be only friendly birds watching, he thought. Then he stared coldly at O’Riordan, his wintry eyes the only sign of his annoyance with the new HAWC.

O’Riordan’s face was redder than usual. He glared at Hex for a few seconds before shouting, ‘I could’ve hit him if I had a light sabre as well, Mr Luke fuckin’ Skywalker.’

Hex studied the man for a further few seconds, then turned away and pressed his comm stud.

*

Alex paused at the outer door of the Jamshid I facility as he heard the message from Hex: ‘Twelve down. Clear.’

‘Roger that,’ said Alex. ‘Come on down, bring Irish and Rocky. Over.’

Alex waved his small team out of the ruins. The tent over the entrance was gone – blown away by the force of the blast. There were bodies lying around the perimeter; in the dark he could see their thermal images fading as they rapidly cooled in the icy night air. He spotted a small round burn hole above the right eye of one of the Takavaran. As expected, Hex hadn’t missed.

Alex pressed his comm stud again. ‘Good shooting, Lieutenant, but I’ll still want that gun back.’

Alex turned to check on Sam, Adira and Zach. Their suits were heavily marked from the blast, the ceramic plates over the shoulders and armadillo scales down over the lower back scarred and pitted. They’d been lucky. As Alex was running his fingers over the back of his helmet to check for damage from the stone shrapnel, he felt his SFPDA comm unit vibrate in one of the pouches at his waist. The Hammer wanted to talk.

‘Sam, get the men to drag all these bodies back into the tunnels, and see if you can resurrect that tent over the entrance,’ Alex said. ‘Clean the perimeter. I’ll update HQ and receive orders.’

He walked away a few paces into the dark and cold desert air. He pulled the miniaturised military PDA device out and switched it to wirelessly receive into his helmet comm. The signal was clear and strong, already piggybacking over the strongest communication grid it could find while frequency-hopping to avoid detection.

O’Riordan was pulling one of the bodies into the mouth of the tunnel when he spotted something small in the sand. He nudged it with his toe to bring it to the surface – a human finger. It must have been blown off one of the Takavaran by Hex’s laser when he moved it to a broad-beam pulse. He bent and picked it up, and looked at it for a few seconds before he glanced across at Adira. She had her back to him while she talked to the young scientist. A hundred possibilities ran through his mind.

‘Don’t even think about it, Irish,’ Rocky said. He was watching with his hands on his hips; plainly he’d read the redheaded HAWC’s mind.

O’Riordan saw Alex near the woman and gave up his plan. ‘I know where I’d like to fucking stick it,’ he said. He threw the finger to the sand and ground his boot over it until it was buried inches below the dry desert surface.

*

‘Did we have to kill them all?’ Zach was saying to Adira. ‘Couldn’t we have just knocked them out, or shot them in the leg?’ He had his arms wrapped around his torso and shivered slightly as another body was dragged past him.

Adira shook her head. ‘Them or us, Zachariah. This is the real world and how it works – very different from the lecture theatre, yes?’

Zach shrugged his shoulders and let his arms drop. ‘It feels wrong.’

Adira grabbed his upper arms and looked up into his face. ‘Sometimes you have to fight. Sometimes you need to defend yourself and others.’ She shook him slightly. ‘When the time to fight comes, what will you do, Zach?’

‘What is your status, Arcadian?’ said Hammerson into Alex’s helmet comm.

‘Twelve bad guys down. Good guys still unannounced. Target site is confirmed as ground zero for gamma pulse and gravitational distortion. Nothing remains in operation. Party has gone elsewhere.’

‘Attention. Party has now been reacquired – secondary pulse detected. Partially shielded gamma signal confirmed; coordinates being sent now. Further instructions on rendezvous with blue doves. Beach holiday now extended. Good luck, Arcadian. Over and out.’

Alex signed off and looked at the SFPDA. There was an attachment that opened to supply the coordinates. A map appeared – their current location was circled in red, another circle appeared to their north, and a line connected them. A name appeared: Arak. Alex knew the blue doves were the Israelis, so obviously Mossad had more information to share with them. He called Adira over.

‘We’re being redirected. Tell me about Arak.’

Adira made a guttural sound in the back of her throat and rolled her eyes. ‘Smallish city in the Markazi Province, just under 500 miles to our north.’

Alex couldn’t help groaning.

‘If we take the new highways, about one day,’ she told him. ‘But there are roadblocks. If we take back roads, several days and we will need an SUV. The fastest and safest way for us is to meet the returning supply train from Bushehr. It’s fast and cuts right through the Zagros Mountains. We need to jump off at Kashan and then trek west up into the Markazi. Should get us there in just over a day.’

The clean-up was complete. Seen from the air, the interaction was now completely erased. Alex checked his watch: 0200 hours. It had all started and finished in three hours – not bad. They still had about four hours until sun-up – they needed to make use of it. He looked across at the truck one of the Takavaran squads had been resting under. ‘Irish. Get that truck working ASAP.’

He turned back to Adira. ‘Now, where do we meet that train?’