The Fate Of Nations: F.I.R.E. Team Alpha: Book One (4 page)

              “The data obtained from observing the first trials allowed us to refine the procedure.” Atkinson replied.

              “Have you tried those refinements on other prisoners?” McNamara asked.

              Atkinson seemed somewhat annoyed. “No,” he said, glaring disapproval at the Canadian. “The new survival estimates are based on extensive computer simulations; there was insufficient time, and a lack of suitable subjects for further testing on other prisoners.”

              “So our asses depend on computer models?” McNamara said. He looked at the other volunteers. “Does anyone else smell their bridges burning behind them?” he asked the volunteers.

              Atkinson no longer attempted to hide his annoyance. “I assure you
Sergeant
,” Atkinson said, emphasizing McNamara’s rank to remind him that he was and enlisted man and certainly not a doctor. “Our models are very accurate.”

              “Forgive me, Doctor,” Muller interjected.  “But the sergeant’s concern is valid. Faith in simulations is fine for one who does not have to live or die based on that faith.”

              Hicks came to the doctor’s defense. “Look people, I know that you have all been bitten in the ass on missions that were planned by cyber-geeks and based on computer models, but the models for the Seed Corn project are a far cry from those tactical models. I give you my word that the twenty percent survival rate is on the mark.”

              “It doesn’t matter anyway,” Carter said. “We’ve signed the papers, and we’re committed.” 

              McNamara turned to Carter. “Sir, I’m not trying to back out but, seriously, when was the last time a computer simulation was right about anything?”

              “Rather the sims are right or not doesn’t matter,” Cole injected. “Any of us could go back to our old units today, and intercept a bullet with our head tomorrow. Any of us could get killed at any time; the only different about this situation is that we know the odds.”

              “Cole’s right,” Adamski said. “Dead in a lab, or dead somewhere else; it doesn’t matter.”

              Relenting, McNamara returned to his seat. There was an uncomfortable silence for several moments before Carter spoke again. “Sir, if people with this Para-gene are so rare, how is it you managed to find ten people with the gene that were also special operations qualified?”

              Atkinson fielded the question. “While subjects with the para-gene are rare, they are not exceedingly so. We estimate that as many as one in ten thousand people may possess the gene. Given the current approximation of the global population, it can be estimated that there are of approximately five hundred thousand individuals who possess the para-gene within that population. The vast majority of the population of the United States was tested for the para-gene and, thus far, the ten of you are the only subjects with special operations qualifications.”

              Hicks completed Atkinson’s answer. “There are also some people who are currently going through some of the special ops schools that have the gene. We’ll bring them in for activation once they’ve completed those courses. We plan to form them into two other teams similar to Red Team. They’ll be called White and Blue Teams respectively. It will be at least a year before they’re operational, though.”

              “We have fifty other volunteers that will go through the activation process after all of you have gotten through it,” Hicks continued. “Those volunteers come primarily from conventional infantry units, but there are also some troops from other combat arms units. We’re giving priority to airborne troopers, recon units, and combat engineers with the gene.” Hicks took a breath. “We’ve found more military personnel with the gene, over two hundred, but they come from non-combat support units. We haven’t told any of them about the gene yet but, once you and the next fifty volunteers have had the gene activated and are deployed, we’ll turn those support troops in to infantry troopers, and activate their para-genes. We don’t expected those troops to be a as disciplined or effective as all of you, or the volunteers from combat units we have on standby but, with the para-gene activated, they should more than a match for any enemy unit they come across.”

              Garba rose from her chair. “Sir, I am curious. How did you test the whole population for the para-gene?” she asked.

              Hicks answered. “Remember, about eighteen months ago, there was a scare about a new enemy biological weapon?”

              “Yes, Sir,” Garba said.

              “We sent medics around to test everyone for exposure and inoculate them,” Hicks continued. “There was no new bio-weapon; we were testing for the para-gene. The inoculations were placebos.”

              “Sir,” Carter said. “With all due respect, I don’t see how a few hundred troops, even if they are genetically enhanced, can have a real strategic impact on the war. They could have a huge tactical impact in a localized battle-space, but not on a larger scale.”

              Hicks nodded. “You’re right about that, Major. However, all the testing for the gene isn’t done yet. All the samples have been collected, but the last of them won’t be tested for at least six months. The doctors think that we might be able to put together a whole brigade of paranormals, maybe even a division. A unit like that would be a huge force-multiplier; like the doctor said, a unit of paranormals would be the equivalent of an enemy force ten times as large.”

              “This is true,” Atkinson agreed. “Our data suggest there may be as many as four to six thousand paranormals within the United States. And, since nearly the entire adult population has been pressed into military service, a division-sized unit of ten to twelve thousand para-normal troops is not an unreasonable goal. Especially considering the presence of some two-hundred thirty thousand Free Nationalist Forces personnel that have also been screened for the pare gene.”

              “Sir, does the enemy have the ability to activate the para-gene in any of its personnel?” Williams asked.

              “No,” Hicks responded. “If our intelligence is right, they don’t even know of the gene’s existence.”

              McNamara looked toward the ceiling and clasped his hands together as though he was praying. “May our intelligence always be right,” he said, as though he were speaking to God. “And not based on computer models,” he added.

              Hicks ignored the sergeant’s attempt at humor. “I know it’s inevitable that the enemy will eventually discover the gene, and how to activate it. That’s why we fast-tracked the human trials and are pushing you all through the activation process more quickly than the doctors would like. Right now, we have a capability that the enemy doesn’t; I want to begin exploiting that advantage as soon as possible.”

              Atkinson spoke again. “After the procedure, which will take approximately three days to complete, those of you that survive will be subjected to a series of tests designed to determine what their new para-normal abilities are, and evaluate their limits.”

              “After that, you’ll have two weeks to get used to your new abilities and do some tactical training as a team.” Hicks said.

”Then we have a job for you.”

              “There is already a mission planned for us?” Carter asked.

“We have a lot of work for you,” Hicks said, “Maybe the most important work of the war so far.”

              “For now though, the team has the rest of the day off. You can leave the base, get your affairs together, and contact any family or friends you want to; I don’t have to remind anybody about maintaining operational security. Be back here by zero six hundred tomorrow.”

              Hicks’ aid came closer to whisper in his ear. Hicks turned to Admiral Collier and General Khazanov and nodded. “Everyone, except the members of Red Team, is dismissed.”

              The room emptied. Khazanov stood shakily and moved toward the team; they stood as she approached. She negotiated the three steps leading down from the podium with difficulty; waving off an aid which moved to assist her. She stood in front of Carter, straining to stand fully upright despite her infirmity. She shook his hand, covering their clasped right hands with her left.

              Her voice was thick with an eastern European accent. “Major, I want to thank you and your command. You have all shown much courage volunteering for this project. I hope that you all fare well.”

              “Thank you, General,” Carter said, finding it hard to look into her pained, haunted eyes.

              She moved down the line shaking hands with each of the team members. She was frail and weakened by hardship and struggle; those were only physical traits, however. Spiritually she was a titan; her strength of will radiated from her. She passed part of that strength onto others through her presence alone. Everyone in the room felt it as she greeted the team. Carter had know only a few other people like Khazanov; people with inner strength so great that they could never truly be defeated, only killed. You could destroy the body, but not the will. Carter’s father had been such person.

              When Khazanov had finished her greetings, she turned and regarded the team. “I want you all to promise me something; promise it to yourselves,” she said, her gaze was piercing, but she seemed to look beyond the team and see something no one else could. “Trust one another. No matter what happens; no matter what betrayals than may occur.” She looked at Pope who still sat twenty feet away at the back of the podium. “You must trust one another. A time is coming when we will ask much of you; more than we have a right to. You will only have yourselves on which to rely. Because of who you are; because of what you will become, you will all be tested by what is coming. It is so important that you face that test together.”

              “Ma’am, I don’t understand," Carter said. “Do you expect us to be betrayed?”

              “Promise me,” Khazanov said. It was a demand from a concerned old woman, not an order from a General officer.

              Carter turned so he could see his team clearly. Khazanov seemed almost desperate to obtain his team’s promise of trust. He looked into their eyes and, almost in unison, the Red Team members nodded.

              “We’ll trust one another, General; you have our promise,” Carter said. “General, you said something about betrayal?” he asked again.

              Khazanov didn’t answer. She touched his right cheek with a trembling hand and then left the room. Everyone present watched her leave in reverent silence. Carter was at a loss for words or action. Her warning had been cryptic, but it had definitely been a warning; a warning that Carter knew shouldn’t be ignored.

              Collier addressed the team next. “I’m not going to repeat the speech about the courage you’ve all shown; that was never in doubt. What I want to tell you is that the sacrifices you are going to make won’t be forgotten or wasted. What General Khazanov said is true, though; we’re going to ask a lot of you in the next few months. Never doubt that you are making a difference.” Collier shook hands with each member of the team and left.

              “I don’t like it,” McNamara said. “When that much brass shows up just give a pep-talk, they figure that you’re already totally fucked.”

              “Give it a rest, Sarge,” Carter said, noticing that Colonel Pope was still lurking in the background. “Sir,” he said to Hicks. “What is Pope’s part in this operation?”

              “Colonel Pope is has been in charge of finding suitable candidates for para-gene activation. After Red Team is operational, he will serve as intelligence officer.”

              “Sir, with all due respect,” Carter protested. “Pope is an incompetent jackass with no regard for anything or anyone but himself,” Carter added; his voice loud enough for Pope to hear.

              “Major, Colonel Pope is your superior officer,” Hicks retorted; his admonishment of Carter was less than heartfelt.

              “He is my superior in rank, Sir.” Carter said, looking directly at Pope, who seemed pleased at Carter’s discomfort at his presence. He met Carter’s gaze for a few seconds and the left without saying a word.

              Hicks turned to Carter. “Doug, I know you and Captain Williams have a history with Pope, but I’ve already tried to get rid of him; he has connections.”

              Carter looked at Williams. “Brandon and I know all about Pope’s connections, Sir.”

              “Indeed,” Williams agreed. “Those connections are the only things that saved him from being charged with cowardice in the face of the enemy.”

              “Well, you’re both stuck with him,” Hicks said, closing the subject. “You have the day off troops; get out of here already!” he said, waving his arms dismissively.

              “Yes, sir; thank you, Sir,” Carter said smiling slightly. He turned to address the team. “I want everyone back on base by zero-five hundred and assembled in the commons area of the team house at zero five-thirty. We walk into that lab as a unit,” he said. The team nodded in agreement. “Yes Sir,” Williams answered for the group.

              “Alright,” Carter said, “Dismissed.”

                 [][][]

              Carter waited until his team had left to find diversion before arranging for car from the base motor pool for himself. He observed himself in the full length mirror that hung on the door of his quarters. The uniform was less tattered than the one he arrived in and the beret was new; having that dark, forest-green color it was intended to; General Hicks had provided the best uniforms he could to the team for their meeting with Collier and Khazanov.