The Tempest Read online

  There would be no more waiting around for the doctor to arrive in emergencies. Accidents on the road would become outdated because travel in that mode would be obsolete. Her parents had such high hopes and a philanthropic attitude toward how Tempest should aid the masses. They never intended for Tempest’s sole beneficiary to be the armed forces, which is how it would probably end up now. It had taken her two years and all the money she had and could borrow to reach the next stage. She had come farther than her parents thanks to improved technology. Though she felt somewhat abashed to think it, her own theories linked with her parents’ had been the key. A fresh mind on a subject often had startling results, and in this case, they had.

  She’d done exactly what her father had and become an integral part of the experiment. Who would even know or care if she had died? The experiment’s results weren’t as drastic as in her father’s case, but it had failed. The failure had changed her life completely by creating crippling medical bills she had no money to pay. This caused far-reaching conclusions, the worst of which was the insertion of the military machine.

  “Al, you have that look that says you are not in the room with me anymore. Please, listen to me. It’s important.”

  She dragged herself out of the memories, many of which she wanted to forget forever. “Okay, I’m paying attention. What do they want us to do?” Alana asked in resignation. If she wanted to remain in the loop, she had no other choice but to comply.

  “They want to send a team on a mission and need our help.”

  Her fingers drummed rapidly on the desk. “I expressly said Tempest would not be used in such a way. I was explicit in the deal I made with them. They can’t do that. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the extra tests you’ve organized without my approval.” The guilty look on his face told her she was right on the money. Damn him.

  “I know the parameters of the deal you made, Al. However, this is different. We aren’t talking about the devil here. We are talking about our world’s military.”

  She snorted at his attempt to make her see the innocence in the request. The consortium, as she called them, didn’t have an innocent bone in their collective bodies. “They can’t, and that’s final.”

  “It’s a mercy mission, Al. Isn’t that one of the reasons for the discovery? Your father would be happy to sanction this mission if he knew all the facts.”

  She knew that Jim was trying to plead with her inner sense of right and wrong by bringing her family into the discussion. Her father had wanted the technology used to help people. Will I get the truth or a sham of a tale to engage my help? “Tell me about this mission.”

  “I knew you’d see it my way. Let’s have lunch, and I’ll fill you in on the details.”

  Groaning at the thought of being away from her work for too long, she nodded reluctantly. “Okay but make it a short lunch and not one of your three-hour feasts. I’ve got work to do.”

  Chapter Four

  “The general will see you now, Major Tranter.” The first lieutenant opened the door to the room with a brisk action, waiting for her to follow inside.

  Tranter walked forward from her silent position waiting in the corridor. Her eyes were constantly on alert, never missing anything that moved in the vicinity, or any details of the officer who was now showing her into the lion’s den. She took in every single action from the blinking of his eyelids to the tapping of his fingers on the computer console built into the desk he stood behind, along with the nervous shifting of his body. She knew he was edgy with her, they all were. Arguably, with just cause. Ignorance was bliss in some quarters, and the man she was about to meet had hoodwinked everyone into making it so.

  She glanced around the typical, top brass office suite with its large walnut desk adorned with the odd photograph and a stack of official-looking papers. She was certain he was no more likely to read them than she was. Various hologram presentations were amassed on two walls, practically covering any decoration that was underneath. The third wall held pride of place, the American flag. Underneath hung a smaller World Council flag with its simple depiction of the globe enfolded in ethereal arms signaling security. It didn’t make sense to her that they portrayed the world as secure with no wars and yet continued to spend billions of dollars on the military machine. She couldn’t complain, because it was her life.

  She saluted the man she loathed and waited for him to return the salute. When he did, she said, “You wanted to see me, General?” He no more deserved the accolades on the walls than the politicians who had seen fit to bestow them on him. She knew she was a credit to the program this man had spent the last thirty years perfecting, which had, in the last five years, finally become a viable option for world peace. It ensured that the hundreds of billions of dollars of taxpayers’ credits into the operation hadn’t gone to waste.

  “Ah yes, Major Tranter.” The general stared hard at her.

  “General.” She acknowledged him and her inky blue eyes traded hard stares with him. He rose to his six-feet-three-inch height. He was a distinguished man, especially in uniform. The general emanated a strength that paralyzed some into fear.

  “Major, I read the report of your last mission. You are to be congratulated.”

  She frowned slightly. Her stocky body was coiled like a cobra, ready to spring into action, as her commanding officer supplied his pleasantries. This could only mean another mission and a covert one at that since the general had asked to see her personally. “Sir, do you have another mission?”

  Narrowing his eyes, the man walked around his desk and stood menacingly close to her.

  Inwardly, she smiled. She may be his subordinate, but she knew that her arrogant attitude said otherwise. She knew he knew it too. Drilled into the new army candidates were the basic principles of respect and decorum, but she had little tolerance. Decorum was unimportant to her. Small talk wasn’t part of her natural skill set, and she knew he would pay whatever price he had to for having the likes of her at his command.

  “Straight to the point as usual, Major.”

  “Sir.” She dismissed his remark cynically, as she waited for him to relate her mission.

  “Good. The point of our meeting today is that I do have another important, secret mission.”

  Tranter flicked her eyes toward the man who loomed next to her. He might intimidate others but not her; she could take him out in a few quick moves. Fortunately for him, she did understand and respect the chain of command. Another mission, now there’s a surprise. It must be a little different, or I wouldn’t be here. Lt. Gen. Randolph usually gives the orders to the unit. “Has Lieutenant General Randolph been briefed, sir?” She knew that Randolph was a fine officer and would take over the command one day.

  The general sneered. “Randolph is aware of the situation. I felt, under the circumstances, that I should be the one to…ask if you wanted this mission.”

  Her shaved head cocked to one side. “I’m at your command, General.” There were no choices for soldiers like her—merely obedience.

  “You may recall the test environment that you and Lieutenant Lane participated in two years ago?” He stared at her.

  She took a moment before answering. He had never asked her the question before, and with the way he was looking at her, she needed to show no emotion in her response. “Yes.” The clipped single word made the general step away as if a blowgun dart had punctured his body.

  “And with what you recollect from the event, do you have any problem entering the same environment?”

  For a few moments, Tranter digested the question. She’d had the correct debriefing at the time of the original event, and anything she had felt regarding the failed mission was logged and accessible to the general. Why is he asking this irrelevant question? “No problem, sir. You order, my unit executes.”

  “I see this annoys you, perhaps?”

  Tranter could feel her body react a fraction and knew by his expression that he saw it. That gave him the upper hand. “Frustration on
ly, sir.”

  “Is that because the mission failed and it is the only failure you have ever been involved in? Or is it because Lieutenant Lane never came back?”

  Tranter bristled at the question. True, it was her only failed mission, but she hadn’t been party to that failure. The technicians, scientists, whatever they chose to call them were negligent, as was Lane. He deserved to perish. I didn’t. The two words whizzed in her brain, as she considered her answer carefully. “The failure was not of my making, it was a technical oversight.”

  “You died in that test though, didn’t you, Tranter? Does your subconscious recall how that felt?”

  She allowed the general to have the upper hand in her mind for a short moment, until she reasserted her own inner power. “No sir, the biodisc was taken before the event.”

  He waved his hand, dismissing the answer. “I want you to use the equipment again. Since the event two years ago, there has been a ninety-five percent success rate. There will be no mistakes this time around, trust me. You are the most experienced in this field. Therefore, I feel you should be the one to command the mission.”

  “Yes sir, what’s the mission?”

  “Anvil Four has malfunctioned. We need you and another to take the required software to the space station, install it, and return. The crew onboard the station will take it from there. The mission isn’t difficult.” The general punched a button on the flat computer console, and a hologram appeared in the center of the room, screening the station and its current orbit. “Do you have any observation to make on the task ahead?”

  “Why not send a computer technician? Why a soldier?”

  “Smart question, Major. I have been reliably informed that sabotage might be at the heart of the crisis aboard the vessel. Sending a technician wouldn’t send the right message, a soldier would.”

  “You want the perpetrator to know that you are aware of them.”

  “Yes, exactly. The Anvil project is important to the world senators. They believe it important to have all weapons of mass-destruction floating in space, away from unstable forces here on Earth. Very important. I’m sure you will agree that keeping the populous happy and peaceful allows us to do our job without interference.”

  “I understand the situation, sir. If the person who may have sabotaged the station decides not to keep their identity quiet, do you want me to dispose of them accordingly?” Tranter felt there was more to this mission than the general was telling her. Although, the mode of transport selected for them didn’t impress her. In the end, it really didn’t matter. She was a soldier who abided by the rules—most of them anyway.

  “You may take whatever action you deem necessary, Major. I’ll have the mission brief coded for your eyes only.” Walking back and sitting down at his desk, the general smiled briefly. “Oh, you can choose who you take with you from your current team.”

  Tranter heard the dismissal in his tone. “General.” She saluted her superior, and after he reciprocated, she left the room with a click of polished boots.

  When the door closed behind the soldier, a smug expression crossed his face. These RADICALS can always be relied on to soak up any scrap of emotional crap. Veiled affection is all they ever get, and it always suits the purpose. The general issued three upward finger movements at the hologram, an image of a 1980s phone, and waited only a moment before he heard, “Yes, Sir.”

  “We have a green light at my end. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  The general curled his lips into a thin smile. “Excellent, I’ll watch the transition personally. Expect me at twelve hundred hours.” He jabbed at the end button, then stared at the mission docket on his desk. If only all my soldiers were as pliable as Tranter, or as bloody good, I wouldn’t be taking this action. Such a pity some have to be dispensable for the higher cause. There was a knock at the door and he barked, “Enter.”

  His aide walked in with a data stream. “From Anvil Two, sir. They will be in position in three days.”

  “Ah, very good. I’ll reply personally to Cransky. When is my appointment with the chief?”

  Consulting his data tablet, the lieutenant replied, “Fourteen hundred hours today. You are free until that time.”

  With a shake of his peppered, grey head, he dismissed the man and began flicking through the digital files. He skimmed, looking at each one for ten seconds before depositing them in the outbox—his aide could do the leg work and condense the contents for him.

  “Shall I bring in your coffee now, General?” the aide asked before leaving.

  “No.”

  †

  Denise Tranter left the general’s office, speeding along the narrow administration corridor and ignoring the stares of several of the lower-ranked personnel. Quite a few shuffled quickly away, retreating with a furtive glance in her direction. She was used to their behavior and even added a feral stare, knowing that some of them would be scared shitless at the expression.

  Having spent all her life on this particular site, she was at home here. The only time she ever saw the outside world was when they sent her on missions. To her, the outside world was like living in a permanent nightmare. She preferred the laser-security fences of her barracks to what lay outside the area. Many of the people on the other side didn’t even believe that people like her existed and thought her kind were only the stuff science fiction concocted. Let them. I don’t care. All that mattered to her was that she lived for the next mission and completed it successfully.

  The metal door opened to the glare of the early morning sunlight, and she smiled, loving the feel of the sun’s heat on her bronzed skin. Flicking back her head, she felt the bristle of new hair growth on her neck. It is time for another head shave, but first I need to choose who is going on the mission with me.

  Gravel crunched beneath her booted feet before she hit the tarmac, where her strident march changed to a light tap, tap as she headed toward her objective—the First Elite barracks. She glanced across the compound’s main drive area to the solitary building. The sign posted in front was stark in appearance, a bit like her kind, exactly how they liked it.

  Radiation. Anatomical. DNA. Infusion. Contribution. Armed. Level.

  First Elite Barracks

  Quite a mouthful, shortened to RADICALS. In many ways, the acronym suited them well, at least in this sector. The others—science, medical, and commerce—were each based on different continents. The separation kept the power brokers of the world happy. Western Europe had science, Eastern Europe medical, and Asia produced the commercial personnel.

  Passing the sign, Tranter entered the building and walked over to the main briefing room. Pressing a small switch summoned all personnel in the barracks. Within two minutes, everyone not on a mission arrived in the room. She surveyed her fellow brothers and sisters-in-arms without sentiment. They had been born in the same lab. It was all quite calculating, and therefore emotional involvement wasn’t part of the structure.

  As clear as a bell, Sgt. Lewis growled, “All personnel present and accounted for.” He saluted Maj. Tranter, their highest-ranking officer and leader. Somehow, before others’ promotions could be granted, fatal injuries necessitated termination. The major had climbed the ranks higher than anyone of their kind had before. Some felt that the powers behind the concrete curtain might finally be agreeing that the RADICALS particular expertise was needed in the world. At least that would explain why they allowed Tranter to climb the ladder of opportunity.

  “At ease. I’ve been summoned by the general for another mission.” A groan went up in the room that held five men and four other women. They all wanted action, and she’d been on the last dangerous stint. “I need a volunteer.” As she expected, all present raised their hands in the air. She nodded in acknowledgment of their enthusiasm. “Private Stark, be ready by eleven hundred. The rest of you, I’ll see tomorrow. Don’t forget we have the challenge with B Command coming up. We all know what we want out of that, don’t we?”

  The
disappointed members of the unit, rallied to another cause, readily responded with shouts of, “To win, win, win. No option but to win.”

  The words echoed in the room as they all filed out, except for Sgt. David Lewis.

  “I see he chose only the best once more. From the stats I uploaded, most any of the team could handle it. Why you again?”

  Tranter smiled slowly, her eyes crinkling cynically. “As usual, you’ve read my mail, Sergeant.” An observation neither of them took seriously, as the man narrowed his gaze and gave her a closer look.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like you. Makes you wonder if he’s not telling you everything. I’d be careful, Major. He inevitably sends you to a hellish situation. Did he provide any more information than the basic stats I’ve downloaded?” They both knew whom he meant, and it was true. The general always sent for her when the going got tough.

  Lewis was right, not that she required reminding. She would take extra precautions as she always did after the previous fatal mission he’d personally authorized. She could ignore the question for Lewis wouldn’t ask again. Missions, any kind of mission, were the meat on the bone for them. He was however, the closest to a friend that she had, probably because they had experienced almost as many operations one way or another. That, and they had both experienced death—too many had in the current unit set up.