W: Omega Storm

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Omega Storm

By Daryll Pung

Part Two:  The Warriors

Rated: R

            I paused amidst the nighttime shadows, and glanced around, allowing my senses to briefly search and scan, scowling slightly as I picked up the all-too-audible noise of my partner moving up behind me. 

            She just wasn't as stealthy as myself, even though we were both clad in basic black, complete with combat boots; and if it weren't for her special talents, she would be next to useless on these missions.  Of course, if I mentioned anything of the sort to her, I'd be in serious trouble; the girl was a might touchy... and I don't relish the thought of becoming a nuclear shadow.

            I focused my eyes forward, allowing them to sift through my vision modes, changing with each blink:  low light, infrared, ultraviolet, and x-ray.  My extreme range vision was useless at the moment; it was too dark for that.  Some found it disconcerting, the way my pupils altered color depending on which vision mode I was employing at the moment; I simply found it useful.  It was, after all, part of who I was.

            I suppose I should pause for a moment, whilst we aren't in active contact with the enemy, to introduce myself.  I am Lieutenant Brand Thanatos, United States Army, and a member of the U.S. Army Stalkers, a Spec-Ops branch created especially for those who are genetic deviants... be it mutates or genengineered individuals like myself.

            Yes, I am genetically engineered; I was created, not born.  Someday, maybe, I'll tell you what that does to a person's psyche, and how much counseling it takes just to deal with that fact, much less accept or embrace it without becoming a psychopath.

            For the moment, however, suffice it to say I have largely accepted it, and moved on... to employing my special talents for my country, willingly; some might even say joyfully on occasion.  I do not take joy in the act of killing; no, I consider it a necessary evil as part of my job; but the job itself can be quite fun.  I am simply happy that there is a place for me, a place where I am accepted without question.  That isn't always the case, even in today's society; there are many places in the world where people like me are reviled, since many aren't offered the psychological support I have been and so many have gone bad.

            Then again, even among genengineered humans, we are not created equal; I happen to be one of the best bred of the finest corporation in the States, even if genegineering is slowly falling by the wayside, and the company that created me is putting an end to their program as a result.

            That is, however, not important at the moment.  What is important is that in addition to being able to focus my senses to my whim, to levels normally unavailable to humanity at large, I am stronger, smarter, more dexterous and agile, and overall physically superior to most non-genengineered humans.  I do not, however, actually consider myself superior to them; indeed, I envy most, wishing I had a family, and would gladly give up much to have that sort of connection, that sort of loving bond to other humans.

            Too maudlin for the job at hand?

            Fine, back to business, then.  Suffice it to say that we were in the black at the moment; we literally didn't exist to our country, and if we were caught, we were on our own.  Time was when whole teams of men were required for tasks like this; but that was before mutation and genengineering became widespread.  Our task was to infiltrate an enemy base, and take data on and destroy a prototype weapon that could otherwise be the start of a whole new arms race.  It was day in the States; it was night here on a remote isle in the South Pacific.

            The two of us had already left a subtle, but bloody, trail behind us.  Or perhaps bloody was the wrong word; though I am packing an assortment of weaponry, so far I have mostly used only my trusty plasma rifle.  Little to no blood, not much noise, and since plasma dissipates rapidly, it's hard to trace; the liquefied burns from the impacts are somewhat distinctive, but quite a few countries have plasma technology, and most of my kills have been head shots anyway, leaving naught but charred stumps of necks.  There are no shells or anything, either, making it a nice, sanitary weapon for spec-ops.  Plus, you can get the weapons wet, and even use them underwater, albeit at a much reduced range, without damaging them.

            And she isn't using any weapon besides that staff of hers... because she is a weapon.  Anyone trying to piece together what the blazes actually happened here is going to have one hell of a confusing time, I guarantee!

            I frowned as I slowly looked around the corner of the hut we were leaning against; my eyes picked out something moving amidst the shadows, and I consciously sharpened my sense of smell to pick up the sharp scent of a human.  He reeked of alcohol; he'd obviously been seeking solace in the bottle… and it smelled like vodka, the homemade kind.  We were in the right place, then; the place was supposed to be staffed by a mixed bag of renegades from various countries, and a few Russian traitors were supposed to be amongst the mix... along with two high-profile American traitors, too, who’d recently fled the States.  At least the intel was reasonably accurate thus far; I have always made it a habit not to trust it too much until I got my eyes on the target.

At any rate, he was standing in the way of the back entrance to the compound we needed to infiltrate.  I used hand signals to let my partner know the score; she signaled back her acknowledgment; and after a brief scan with her minicomp and handheld sensor to check for surveillance equipment, she gave me a thumbs up.

            Back to work, we had places to be and people to kill.

            I couldn’t help but grin and wince at the same time as the plasma shot struck home and all but vaporized the sentry’s head; and I also couldn’t help admiring Thanatos’ ass as he leapt forward and used all of his genetically-enhanced speed and agility to catch the body before it hit the ground and made a sound.  What can I say?  The boy’s hot.  I wouldn’t act on it, of course; he’s my teammate, and there is such a thing as professionalism.

            Besides, I know I make these uniforms look good, especially when we have to wear form-fitting kinds, like wetsuits, for example, and I’ve caught him admiring me more than once!  He wasn’t looking at my ass, either.  Hell, he was probably using his x-ray vision to look right through my clothes!

            Anywho...

            I shivered slightly in anticipation, despite the tropical heat, and the usual nighttime pests prevalent on an atoll in the Pacific Ocean.  I don’t necessarily mean just bugs, either… humans aren’t the only things the war has affected.  We had to kill an acid-spitting snake not twenty minutes ago; almost took my arm off.  And don’t get me started on the plant life!  I know what you’re thinking… how could a small atoll in the middle of an ocean get hit with bio-weapons and have mutations?

            Not always the case, pal.  Before they tinkered with humans, they tinkered with animals; and while many breeds of those early creations have been exterminated over the years, they still exist in remote spots of the globe, and since they’re breeding, they’re evolving along with the rest of the planet.  Joy, huh?  Plus, it could be the nutjobs who inhabit this place are still tinkering, and that was a recent creation…

            Ah, but that’s not important right now.  What is important right now is getting inside this sorry excuse for a hide-out, getting the infobits we need, killing all that needs killing, and blowing the dump on our way out. 

  What was that? What explosives would we use to destroy the place?

            Who said anything about explosives?  We weren’t carrying any.

            I would be the one destroying the place when all was said and done.  I’m Lieutenant Kaelee Charis Morana, United States Army Stalker.  Call me Kaycee.  And unlike Thanatos, I’m not genengineered; nor am I a mutant, per say, since my DNA is perfectly human normal.  Rather, unlike most humans, even genengineered ones, I have more access to my brain functions and can tap into the depth of my life energy- or that of others, and not necessarily humans- and force of will because of it, allowing me to do some very cool stuff.

            Lemme explain while Thanatos hides the sentry’s corpse.  Normal adult humans, including most mutants, only use about thirty to thirty-five percent of their brain’s capacity.  Some genengineered types, including Thanatos, can push that close to forty percent.  Tests have shown that my usage capacity is at least ninety-nine percent.

            And what do I mean by cool stuff?

            Well…

            Let’s just say Ma Nature answers me when I call.  Anything natural, anything at all, is within my repertoire.  Call a tsunami?  Sure.  Create a rift in the ground, complete with earthquake?  Just tell me how high on the Richter do ya want it.  Volcanoes?  They erupt on cue, baby.  Force five twisters?  You’re not in Kansas anymore.  Forest fires?  Please.  Arsonists kill themselves when they hear of my natural fire-starting abilities… out of despair! 

I have some other abilities as well, that I’m still developing… stuff like manipulation of antimatter… an ability I’m intending to practice a little tonight, although it’s very tiring for me to do so. 

Actually, between you and me, doing any of the above tires me; but with anything, training and practice makes it easier, so most of my elemental abilities only drain me a little.  Still, a girl’s gotta be cautious; wouldn’t want to kill myself or put myself in a coma, huh?  Yeah, I could take it from other places, and sometimes do if the things living in the areas are going to die anyway, or if the situation is dire and desperately calls for it, but I feel it when they die, and lemme tell ya, that sucks, even if it’s enemy troops I’m killing.  It feels horrible, cold; a deep, soul-wrenching pain… Ugh.  I’d rather not dwell on that any further, time to change topics.  Let’s get back to the business at hand.

            We move ahead, carefully, dash-and-cover, until we reach the access that the headless sentry was guarding.  It is, quite naturally, locked.  I could obliterate it, and I’m referring to the lock here, though the door would work, too, but we don’t want to cause too much of a ruckus yet, which is why we’ve carefully hidden every trace of our presence thus far.  So, I break out the trusty minicomputer and handheld suite I’m toting (I’ve got all the various sensing goodies and whatnot since I’m not carrying any weapons like my partner) and begin working on the enemy’s security systems.

            We’ll get in, one way or the other.  We’ve never failed, and we don’t intend to tonight.

Two shadows detached themselves from the tropical night and darted across a small courtyard separating the entrance building, little more than a two-room concrete hut, from the rest of the compound.  The first moved very quickly indeed, very carefully marking his footsteps, able to tell where the sentries had stepped with his enhanced vision, putting his feet down harder than necessary to mark the path for his partner.

She followed at a marked distance; on the off chance one of the mines in the courtyard did go off, there was no sense in both of them getting taken out with the same explosion.

She reached the safety of the overhang that marked the door into the compound itself without incident, her heart racing, and her expression neutral, though her unusual violet eyes gleamed bright with excitement.  Though she’d never admit it, Kaycee lived for these missions.

She eyed the entry pad for the door, and began to level her handheld, when she stopped.  “Shit,” she whispered.

Her partner’s head whipped around.  “What is it?” Brand asked just as quietly.

“DNA and retinal… no way I can hack into this system anytime soon,” Kaycee responded softly.  “Pretty high tech for the middle of nowhere.”

Brand grunted, eyeing the door.  “Reinforced… I might be able to force it, but they’ll know.”

“Especially since it’s wired,” Kaycee muttered, eyeing the displays on her minicomp.

“Are you telling me there’s no way in, short of drawing real attention to ourselves?” Brand frowned.

“Maybe,” responded Kaycee thoughtfully.  “I might be able to short circuit things, subtle like… take their whole security system offline.”

“Electrical spike?” Brand opined, glancing at her.  “They’ll have back-ups against that.”

Kaycee smirked.  “They do.  And I could overcome them if I really wanted.  No, I’m talking a highly focused and directed electromagnetic pulse through the circuits we don’t want working… powerful enough to fry things so that they can’t bring them back up.  That way, important things we still require will continue running; and they can’t trace it or stop it, since I see no hint of that sort of gear.  They weren’t expecting to get nuked, or having their own toy go off on them.  Which strikes me as stupid, considering what they’re working on here.  Maybe they just couldn’t afford the gear.”

“EMP?  You can do that?” Brand blinked.  He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised; her talents grew daily, it seemed.  “And with that sort of precision control?”

“And so much more, hon,” Kaycee winked, her contralto voice low and sexy, with just a touch of surfer girl in it, reflecting her west coast heritage.

Brand rolled his eyes.  “All right,” he said.  “Do it.”

Kaycee stowed her gear, and moved over to the entry pad, extending her hand right above it.  She closed her eyes, bringing to mind the schematic she had just memorized on her minicomputer, highlighting mentally the systems she wanted to target.  She took a deep breath, and focused.

For a long second, nothing happened.

Then, there was a bright blue flash and a small blast wave emanating from Kaycee’s outstretched right hand; electrical traces played over the panel, which abruptly went dark.  A click indicated the door unlocking itself.

“Sweet,” Brand said in his normal volume, his smooth tenor voice registering his approval.  He readied his rifle and leaned against the door, gently moving it open, automatically shifting his vision to deal with the ambient light change; the lights in the hall inside were bright and incandescent white.  His black eyes narrowed as he swept the hall for targets; his pupils were black, indicating normal vision mode; they shifted slightly to gray as he blinked and mentally triggered extreme range vision, which also picked up the slight bio-electric aura all living things gave off.

Kaycee held her collapsible adamantium staff at a combat ready position, and followed at a short distance behind, momentarily pausing to brush her red bangs out of her eyes; the curled tendrils that usually framed her face were firmly secured with the rest of her silky, scarlet hair, which fell to her waist when unbound.  Her features reflected both her youth and her beauty; her skin remarkably smooth complexioned, and lightly tanned.  Full, pouty lips, a single dimple to the left, and three earring holes in each earlobe completed the effect (though all were currently unoccupied); she was extraordinarily pretty, though it was her eyes that generally drew one’s attention… that and her curvaceous, well-toned figure; she was singularly unblemished, but only because she could also use her powers to heal rapidly when necessary; she’d taken plenty of hits.  She fought through the momentary fatigue that using her abilities caused, and focused on the task at hand, forcing herself to pay attention.

Brand stopped, dropping to one knee, and leveled his plasma rifle in one smooth motion; it fired almost of its own accord, and a guard at the end of the hall slumped against the wall, suddenly headless, steam and smoke rising from the charred stump where his head used to be.  Inside, in close quarters, the acrid smell of fried ozone left by the plasma round was acutely noticeable, even over the softer scent of the recently scrubbed and sterilized surroundings; there was a strong odor (to him) of bleach.  The faint reek of perspiration from the sentries was detectible; there were subtle differences that indicated the one he’d just killed was of Latin descent.  There was also his own scent, and Kaycee’s feminine smell; both neutral and untainted, plus perspiration, salt water, and sand; but Brand shrugged it off; he was used to it on these missions.  Ironic; no traces of other females thus far; guess these types weren’t all that equal opportunity.  His face was thoughtful as he lowered the rifle; his black hair cropped to a typical ‘high-and-dry’ military cut.  His light brown face was otherwise smooth and well defined, with no other facial hair.  He was well built, and muscular; of course, he was not only designed that way, but he had to be in his profession.  A single, well-healed scar sliced across his right cheek; but it only seemed to enhance his features.  It was the only mark on him; he’d learned his lesson from that and hadn’t been hit since.  He heightened his hearing for a moment, listening hard; then returned it to normal.  He frowned, and waved Kaycee closer.

“Left, down the corridor thirty feet, then right, and down that corridor to the reinforced double doors at the end, correct?”  Brand asked when she kneeled next to him, double-checking to make sure his memorization of the map of the layout was accurate… triple checking, actually, he’d already double-checked before entry.

Kaycee nodded and gave thumbs up.  “Problem is, there are over a dozen adjoining passages or rooms to our route… and all have to be cleared first.”

Brand snorted; he knew that already also, but confirmation never hurt.  “Then let’s get to work.”

Kaycee’s lips parted as her expression became playful.  “Yes, let’s do!”

Next came a half hour of quiet, intense work neutralizing the score of enemies they ran across, many of which had been frantically running around trying to fix the damage Kaycee’s EMP had done, to no avail.  They cleared the areas that needed clearing, and after securing said areas behind them, the duo faced the double doors that led to their main objective.

The doors both had an inset of plate glass, composite reinforced by the look of it; roughly a foot in diameter; and the control room within was singularly busy.  The access controls were fried, so getting in wouldn’t be a problem… but the pair of alert sentries on the other side, with itchy trigger fingers and leveled weapons, could be.

“Hmm,” Brand said thoughtfully, as he pressed back against the wall, opposite Kaycee.  “Seems to be a bit of opposition.”

“And one bit of warning means they delete everything we want or smash it to bits, right?” Kaycee smirked.

“Yes,” Brand agreed.  Something in her voice made him look up; she was sporting a devilish grin.  “You are enjoying this way too much.”

“You always say that,” she giggled quietly.  “Besides, I’ve got an idea.”  She pointed to an air vent in the ducting right above Brand’s head.  He turned to look.

“Hate to tell you, Kaycee, but that’s too small for either of us to fit in, as is the duct,” Brand pointed out.  “Unless you can shrink us?”

Her expression turned thoughtful.  “That’s a new one.  Have to try that sometime.  No, silly… there’s another vent not five feet inside that door; saw it through the glass; same air-conditioning system, apparently.  This place was obviously designed for repelling assaults of a direct nature, but little else; no provision against gas attacks.  Dumbasses.  And this armored door is the only way in or out of this chamber.”

Brand’s eyes sparked in recognition as he got what she was saying.  “Damn,” he whispered.  “I like it.”

Kaycee smiled again, alluringly.  “I know ya do.  You just gotta make sure no one makes it through that door while I work.”

“And surprises us from behind… let me set up the pair of auto-guns so that they’re pointing down the hall behind us, and then get in position,” Brand replied.

Kaycee nodded, pressing the button that collapsed her staff to its three-foot compact form, which she then stowed.  She leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.  “Gotta do this fast,” she whispered.  “Gotta hit them hard… and they’ll have roughly thirty seconds after I do to react.”

“Ready,” Brand commented quietly, kneeling, and leveling his plasma rifle.  He prepped his plasma pistol too, just in case.

“’Kay,” she responded absently, her mind full on the task of creating temporary barriers to contain the power she was about to unleash; she chose to make them out of clear silicone composite.  She then took another deep breath.  She reached out, and let her mind wander through the air in the chamber.  It took a mere two hundred and thirty seven seconds to find every molecule of atmosphere and lock them in.

One final deep breath.

Kaycee suddenly routed every single atom of air; oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, and helium, and more, all of it, into the air conditioning vents and out of the vent above the Stalker’s heads.  A sudden whoosh of rushing air made both of their ears pop; Kaycee remained still, concentrating as she put the final barrier in place to finish off the vacuum she’d now created.

Brand gave his head a little shake and allowed himself a quick yawn.

Kaycee finally opened her eyes, and glanced through the door.  Most of those she could see were tripping over themselves, hands to their throats, eyes bulging out, blood vessels beginning to burst; absolutely not one of them had expected their most secure room to suddenly turn into outer space!

She allowed herself one small, satisfied smile, and concentrated on maintaining the barriers.

“What if they call for help?” Brand asked, mentally counting.

“Sound has difficulties traveling through a vacuum, Thanatos,” Kaycee said tiredly as a wave of exhaustion swept over her.  “Despite being in an enclosed space, they’d have to shout at the top of their lungs just to make themselves be heard… and they have no air to do that.”

Brand nodded.  “That’s right; damn.  Good call.  Fifteen seconds more.”

A hand suddenly hit the glass on the door; it left a bloody trail as it slid down off of it.  The door opened a crack, then stopped; but Kaycee’s barrier prevented anything from going in… and whoever it was apparently had nothing left to try and get out.

To be safe, they waited thirty seconds beyond what was necessary.

“One minute,” Brand finally said.

Kaycee nodded, and gripped the handle on one of the other doors in the hallway- hard.  “Hang on to something.”

Brand moved to copy her, securing his weapons, including the auto-guns.  Once he had a firm hold of a handle, she disintegrated the barriers.

Both of them were suddenly upended off of their feet from the rush of air past, their arms yanked almost out of their sockets.  There was a sudden, metallic screech, and a loud bang as the air conditioning ducting, not designed to handle the forces it was being subjected to, crumpled in on itself; and the double armored doors, already opened a crack, were wrenched off their tracks and opened farther.  The doors they were clinging to, locked and secured though they were, trembled mightily.

Once the pressure was equalized, and both had their feet firmly back on the ground, Brand began to laugh.  “Shit, Kaycee, when you let go, you really let go.”  He flexed his arms around the discomfort, the pain was already fading; and produced his plasma pistol.  Just in case.

Kaycee grinned and shook her head to clear it as she stood; she briefly once again touched her power to rid herself of any aftereffects, the pain clearing up instantly, her arms working normally.  “Why do the thing second rate?  If you’re going to do it, do it right.”  She reached for the wall as another wave of exhaustion swept over her.

Brand noticed.  “You all right?”

Kaycee sighed.  “Just tired, Brand; the more combinations I do, the more exhausted I get.  I called a specific transparent, flexible material into existence out of thin air in several locations to serve as a barrier; I identified and moved a ton of air molecules of various elements, displacing them all nearly instantly, and then had to concentrate to maintain the vacuum in case some wiseass did puncture one of the barriers, and so on, and so forth.  I’ll be fine; I just need a few minutes to recover… or a few hours, I’m not sure which.”  She gave a feeble grin.

“Well, stay behind me, then… but I think you win on body count for this mission,” he said lightly, trying to interject some humor into the situation.

Kaycee slowly moved after him, after glancing behind to make sure the coast was clear.  “I usually do,” she finally said, faint smile in place.

They moved carefully into the chamber, the double doors now open far enough for them to get through without any effort.  Brand paused a moment to look around.

Well.  I’m glad she’s on our side, he thought, not for the first time.  Bodies lay sprawled everywhere, in small pools of blood; some bloody handprints marked where people had tried to react, to pull themselves upright, or to find some way out of the situation they found themselves in.  The air conditioning ductwork was collapsed in here as well, but aside from that and the door, nothing else appeared to be damaged.  Brand nodded in satisfaction, about to stow his pistol.  Something stopped him; some whisper of sound reached him that was out of place.  He focused his hearing, but it didn’t repeat.

“Brand!” called Kaycee from the door.

Brand spun to see a shape rising up from the floor.  He had just enough time to register that Kaycee had her minicomputer out, and that this female shape, though wearing a lab coat, had glistening metallic skin.

Armored?  An armored mutant?  Oh, shit.

Brand raised his pistol and got off two shots as the mutant closed the distance; the plasma rounds splattered harmlessly on it, burning away material but doing little else… or did it?  The impact areas were black and scorched.

The mutant swung a balled fist at Brand, and he ducked under the swing, rolling out of the way.  Mutant or not, Brand’s reflexes were still superior, and he was much faster.  Still, as Brand looked up and saw the cratered impact point, he realized he didn’t want to get hit by one of those punches.

He raised the pistol again, targeting the same spot he’d already hit; he squeezed the trigger as the mutant turned to come at him again.  His aim was perfect; and he was able to get off three rounds this time.

They seemed to have little effect, although Brand did see the mutant wince as the last one struck.  Interesting…

This time, Brand dropped under the mutant’s attack, and swung his foot hard into the area he’d hit with the plasma shots; it gave slightly, causing the mutant to let out an involuntary gasp of pain, and knocking it back a few feet.  Brand came up and placed the barrel of the pistol directly against the vulnerable spot, and pulled the trigger.

He had the satisfaction of seeing the mutant fly backwards, a hole burning into the mutant’s midriff.  It hit the ground, writhing in agony, and as it opened its mouth to scream, Brand scrambled to his feet, moved over it, and fired a plasma round directly into its mouth.

He watched its head disintegrate dispassionately.

He noted Kaycee moving in.  “Any other surprises?”

“No,” she shook her head.  “My guess is her armored skin was able to let her resist the explosive decompression of a sudden lack of atmosphere; she was able to hold her breath when the rest couldn’t.  And most people can hold their breath for sixty seconds.  Anyway, everyone else in here is definitely dead.”

“Let’s get to work, then,” Brand stated coolly, stowing his pistol.  “I’ll set the auto-guns by the door, and we’ll do what we need to do.”

“Right,” Kaycee nodded, moving towards one of the computer terminals.

            Forty-five minutes later, satellites around the world tracked a massive explosion of unknown origin on a remote atoll in the South Pacific.  No weapon trajectories or any other threats were found, however, so alert levels were immediately downgraded, moments after they’d been raised.  The only note of interest was a rising count of neutron particles.  No other forms of radiation were picked up.

            And no one spotted the miniature, two-person submarine as it escaped the area, heading first to the south, then curving northwards towards Hawaii.

            London smiled as he watched the satellite replays on the screen in his office.  As the flow of information decreased, he glanced at Commander Manriquez.

            “What do you think, Commander?” he asked.

            “Somebody had a bad accident,” the Latino woman commented.  She leaned forward.  “Interesting, though, this rising neutron count; it’s already beginning to disperse.  What sort of weapon could cause that?  And no radiation?”

            “A very unique weapon, Commander.”  London paused to enter a frequency on his minicomputer, and the display changed to show a blip racing away from the island.

            “Sir?” blinked Manriquez.

            “Special transponder frequency, Commander.  The unit it is attached to will self-destruct if not reset within a certain time frame; and if it is not reset by a pre-determined individual, or if someone tries to open the thing and disarm it.  It’s damn near foolproof, small, and it’s perfect for tracking very black special operations missions,” London explained.

            Manriquez blinked.  “Right.  I’d heard such units existed, but not actually had confirmation of that fact.”

            “You do now,” London said.  A beep suddenly indicated an incoming message; and London pressed his minicomputer to receive a quick text message.  “Ah.  Excellent.”

            “Sir?” Manriquez queried.  She blinked.  “Wait.  I’m guessing that was confirmation that the spec-ops team indicated by that transponder is okay, and on their way back to base… and by your satisfied tone, that their mission was a success?”

            “Very good, Commander.  Yes.  Their mission was to infiltrate a compound of rogue military scientists, secure the data on whatever projects they were working on, with emphasis on the weapon we knew they were developing, and then destroy the prototype of that weapon and the compound… and anyone inside,” London explained.

            “What weapon, sir?” Manriquez asked, wondering if she’d get an answer.

            “A neutron bomb, Commander.  It seems they might have actually made a breakthrough and been able to produce one,” London answered.  “But the pair of Stalkers assigned to the task has never failed to complete their mission, and are even now escaping in a minisub back to Pearl.”

            “Stalkers, huh?  And a neutron bomb would explain the rising neutron count…” Manriquez mused.

            London laughed.  “The bomb wasn’t active, nor wasn’t detonated, though it is indeed destroyed; and as I understand the theory, it wouldn’t result in that sort of blast.  It would also leave most structures, especially hardened ones like this compound, intact beyond a certain range.”  He indicated the screen; the satellite’s cameras had zoomed in to show a few sparse fires.

            “Whereas the whole island is leveled,” Manriquez whispered in awe.  “Then, what…?”

            “A matter-antimatter explosion, Commander,” London said slowly.  “Highly contained and tightly controlled.”

            “We have that sort of weapon?” she asked in astonishment.

            “We do… but not in the way you might think.”  He removed two more minicomps from his locked desk compartment and slid them across to her.  “The other two ‘finalists’ for our team... and by coincidence, the two that just finished this mission we’re discussing, and the two that are aboard that minisub.”

            She curbed her curiosity for the moment, and looked at the first minicomputer.  “Brand Thanatos, no middle name, Lieutenant, United States Army, member of the Stalkers, age 23, DOB 1 May 2240, from Genetron Industries, Phoenix, AZ.  No family, naturally, being genetically engineered; went through Genetron’s excellent educational, physical, and psychological training programs and graduated with flying colors.  Joined the military as soon as he was able, a rather impressive list of decorations, here.  For that matter, the list of successful missions is impressive, too.  Like many from Genetron, in addition to standard genengineering boosts like strength, agility, and intelligence, he can alter his senses’ sensitivity levels as he sees fit.  Has numerous vision modes available to him, has a photographic memory, and apparently an uncanny ability to avoid danger, seeing as there’s next to no time spent in medical care.”

            “I do believe he’s only been hit once, a graze,” London nodded.  “And that’s not the full list of missions, or decorations; some are still very highly classified.  Same with his partner.”

            Manriquez switched minicomputers.  “Kaelee Charis Morana, Lieutenant, United States Army, member of the Stalkers, age 19?  A little young for the job, isn’t she?  Anyway, DOB is 13 February 2244, and she’s from San Diego, CA.  Only child… and her parents were murdered, not in any combat action, by agents unknown.”  Manriquez looked up.

            “We suspect the group down in Antarctica heard about her talents and wanted to, shall we say, recruit her?” London said quietly.  “She had fled the attackers at her parent’s behest, and ran into one of our units out on maneuvers in the desert; we killed the agents responsible and took her in, and that’s when we discovered how unique she is.”

            “How would the Antarctic outcasts know about her, then?” Manriquez asked.

            “Her uncle is one of them,” London replied.

            Manriquez winced.  “Ouch.”

            “And young Kaycee isn’t very happy with her uncle; she’s sworn to kill him,” London continued.

            “So what makes her so special?” Manriquez wanted to know.

            London smiled and indicated the minicomp.

            “Right,” Manriquez said, bending her head to resume reading.  “Let’s she… she isn’t a mutate, or genetically engineered or enhanced; her DNA is homo sapiens normal; but she can use over ninety percent of her brain capacity to ‘generate extraneous effects’?  I’m guessing someone didn’t really know how to quantify what she can do?”

            “More than likely.  To put it simply, she can draw on her life force, or the life force of anything living around her, to manipulate natural forces.  At first, it was simple manipulation; like starting fires, causing rainstorms, et cetera… but her abilities have steadily advanced as she’s practiced them,” London said.  “As a result, she can even produce…” he waved his hand at the screen.

            “Wow,” murmured Manriquez.  She thought for a moment.  “Sure it’s wise to include her on the team, sir?  Yes, her record is equally as impressive, and her abilities are even more awe-inspiring, as her partner’s, but she would have a personal motive, namely revenge, in this.”

            “She possesses excellent self-control, Commander,” London responded.  “She has to.  She can control her rage to get the job done as necessary.  It would be extremely unwise not to include her, especially since that was part of the bargain I made with her to convince her to join us; that she would get the chance to hunt down her parent’s killers and that we would help.”

            “You convinced her…?  It was your unit on maneuvers she ran in to!” Manriquez realized with a start.

            London nodded.  “And she was twelve at the time.  She, too, joined as soon as she was able; I arranged a foster couple to oversee her schooling and training until that point.”

            Manriquez shook her head, still assimilating all the data.  “So.  Theron, Miles, Thantos, and Morana.  These are your final choices for the team, sir?”

            “They are, Commander.  Would you mind cutting the orders for Thanatos and Morana, and making the arrangements for Theron and Miles?” London replied.

            “It would be my pleasure, sir,” she answered with a smile.

  

 

    

TO BE CONTINUED...

 

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