Atlantis Rising: Chapter 11
Previous Chapter: Atlantis Rising: Chapter 10
Homepage: Atlantis
Also see: Reaper's First Drop
08:03 Hours, March 10, 2015 (Military Calendar), Jason, inside Firebase Bravo isolation holding cell, Atlantis Mainland
Jason awoke, his hands cuffed behind him, laying on his side in a dark, solitary cell.
Blinking groggily, Jason noticed he was wearing only his blue, gold, and black form-fitting under-armor leggings and shirt. His armor, pads, and tunic had all been removed and were nowhere to be seen, nor was his combat pack or webbing gear, with all his ammo in it.
Struggling upright, Jason paced out his room; 10 feet by 10 feet. There was a bunk in one corner and a hole in the ground behind a translucent screen, with a window set high in the corner, barred, but nothing else.
The sharp, clear peel of armored boots against steel rang out from the hallway. Jason walked to the door, which was a rectangular piece of metal set into the wall with only the slightest of visible seams and a barred shutter for the guards to look into with a small flapping door at the bottom, for trays of food to be pushed in. As Jason approached the door, a fist banged against it three times, followed by a voice, "Stand back and away from the door or you will be shot; we are coming in."
Jason growled to himself. Not a chance. He pressed himself against the wall next to the door. It swung open and Jason flew at the soldier blocking the rectangle of light that was his escape, arms raised up and ready to strik-
And was suddenly caught and thrown into the wall by Jamie.
Dizzy, Jason shook his head and threw his elbow backwards. Jamie caught the blow intended for his face and grasped it, wrenching it behind Jason's back as he shoved Jason's head into the wall with his other hand. Jaw clenched, Jason snarled and ducked under Jamie's arm, reversing their positions and slamming Jamie into the wall.
Matt stepped forward and decked Jason, sending him toppling to the ground. Jamie raised his carbine, pointed at Jason's chest, as Matt calmly withdrew his HK USP from its holster and aimed it squarely at Jason's head. Jason did not flinch or shy away, but sat with his head raised proudly and fire in his eyes.
Matt looked behind him and waved Malcolm forward. Malcolm, holding his own sidearm casually, hoisted Jason to his feet, addressing him in Latin.
"What is your name?" Malcolm asked. Lines appeared on Jason's forehead.
"Speak you Latin?" Jason replied in halting Latin.
"Obviously. And better than you, I might add." Malcolm responded, obviously pleased by the exchange. "What do your people speak?"
Jason clenched his mouth shut.
Matt sighed, drew back, and rammed a fist into Jason's unarmored gut. Jason collapsed around the blow, looking at his captors with cold hatred.
"Malcolm, please inform him we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Easy involves him talking freely, and we don't hurt him. Hard involves copious amounts of pain for him, and if we still don't get what we want, we put him on a drip till we do."
Malcolm relayed the message.
Drawing to his full height, he announced, "I am Jason."
"His name is Jason." Malcolm told the group. "What language do you speak?"
"We speak original of Latin." Jason told them. "Atlantian."
"He says they speak the precursor of Latin."
"What does he mean, precursor of Latin?" Matt asked, crossing his arms.
Malcolm asked him.
"Atlantian language is first language... all other tongues based off ours." Jason informed them, a hint of pride coloring his voice.
Malcolm relayed.
"Why did you attack us?" Matt asked.
Jason's eyes darkened as Malcolm posed the question. Resorting to Atlantian, Jason began a rapid-fire monologue, saying, "We did not attack you. It was the other way around. We were told that this installation was 'European,' and sent to eradicate them from our shores. We got here and saw the American insignias and flags, and were in the midst of pulling out when your troops opened fire. Your machine gun cut down my brother, and by then it was too late to pull out and we wouldn't have done so anyways. No man shoots at me or my team without me attempting the same with him."
Malcolm took an involuntary half-step back, blinking and concentrating as he tried to decipher Jason's angry torrent.
"D'you get all that?" Jamie asked.
"Um... I think so. Atlantian isn't much different from Latin - it's slightly more refined and elegant, and a little more complex, I think. Anyways, he says his team was told our camp was European, and so they were sent to wipe us out, but when they saw the American stuff they were trying to pull out, and then Rob opened fire. Dipstick." Malcolm finished.
Matt cursed. "Alright. We just started an accidental front to the war. Someone go congratulate Rob for me."
"What do we do with them?" Jamie asked, pointing at the Atlantians.
"I don't know. That's Ford's decision. He may want to keep them for further questioning, or let them go and see if we can't reverse this front."
The door shut behind them, leaving Jason alone in his cell again. Spitting out blood, Jason paced about the room, thinking about potential escape routes. Jason went back to the window. It was at the top of his cell, but by jumping and clinging onto the metal bars, he was able to get a good view of the outside.
The window was at ground level outside, but Jason couldn't see much besides a shrub that was in his way. With a huff, he returned to the floor.
About half an hour later, a tray of food was pushed through the flap in the bottom of the door, followed by two bottles of water. It wasn't bad, considering it was prison food. Jason choked it down, then walked towards the hole in the floor.
As he approached the latrine, the faint sound of voices echoed through, getting louder as he got closer. Jason paused for a moment, ear cocked, and recognized Achilles's gruff tones. Bending down, he was also able to hear Daedalus.
"Achilles? Daedalus?" Jason whispered into the whole.
"Jason?" Daedalus asked.
"Yeah. Alright, explain to me what's happening."
"It appears that these Americans dug a large central pit for all the latrines, and then just connected it to each cell. I think we're all packed into the same building, too."
"Nah, it doesn't echo enough." Jason said. "Or maybe we are, but they've sealed off a section for each squad. After all, it isn't that hard to see the Orca insignias on our armor and shields."
"Good point." Achilles said.
"Wait a second. So if we can all talk to eachother, and all the latrines are connected, d'you think... I mean, could I get into your cell from the latrine?"
"I dunno." Daedalus said, thinking hard. "How deep are these trenches?"
Jason spit, counting the seconds till it hit the ground. Three seconds. "Maybe about thirty feet, give or take."
Daedalus sighed, turned around and surveyed his cell. They were all made the same; bunk in the corner, translucent screen, window, and door with flaps to push food through. Daedalus saw the bunks and said, "I can make a rope out of the sheets, you jump down, and I'll pull you up."
"Alright, let's do it. But not right now. Let's see if we can't figure out a schedule for when the guards come in and check. We'll have to enlarge the holes if we're to climb through, and we don't want to be surprised when they come. Anybody have a timepiece?"
"No, but my cell's got a window at the top with a view out on the main square. An' I can see a clock up at the top of this building." Achilles said.
"Alright, good work. What time is it?"
"A little before 09:00 Hours." He responded.
"Okay. They just came in at about 40 minutes ago. So checks start at 08:00 lets say, and they get finished at 08:15. That's the morning check. I'm betting they come back around 12:00 with lunch and for inspection. Then at 18:00 for dinner and another inspection, and then bed inspection at 22:00 Hours. If we can, let's wait out today, and once we've got a schedule established, then we start. We'll need to be able to hide all the dirt and stuff from our work-"
"Just put it down the hole. Easy." Achilles said.
Daedalus sighed. "No, because they'd notice the abnormally large hole in the ground."
"Right..." Achilles trailed off.
"Nice one. Okay, so we need a way to hide the giant hole in the ground, but other than that, we're all set." Jason said.
"We could bribe them." Achilles suggested.
"With what?" Daedalus scoffed. "I dunno about you, but they cleaned me of anything useful."
Jason shook his head. "We can hang a blanket partway under the hole, nail it in place, and shovel the loose dirt on top of the blanket whenever it's time for inspection."
"Wouldn't they notice the missing blanket?" Daedalus asked.
"No. Here, I'll spread shreds of the blanket around the room. You say you threw it down the hole, and Achilles..."
"Threw it out the window."
Daedalus sighed. "Why do we even bother? They'd notice the lack of a blanket beneath the window, moron."
"I'll just stop talking." Achilles muttered.
"No, Achilles, you rip a part off, wad it into a ball, and stuff it under your bunk. They'll think it's the whole thing even if it's not. I'm betting they'll just throw a new one in for you." Jason instructed.
"Alright. Good plan. So we wait out today, then tomorrow we'll start, and get the rest of the guys out too." Daedalus said.
"I'm surprised." Carter said, sitting down with the crew at a table in the Mess Hall later that night. "Not one escape attempt out of any of Orca. The rest of the Atlantians are trying everything from digging through the floor to trying to bend the bars open with wet sheets and metal bars."
"Any of 'em make it anywhere?" Matt asked, sitting down with his own tray.
"Nope. We've had guys watching them from the first minute. But this thing with Orca, none of them have tried anything. It makes you wonder..."
"Almost seems like they're planning something more... devious." Holly said.
Matt winked at her. Her lips parted in a grin.
Jamie closed his eyes and whacked Matt on the head. "Nice going, Romeo. Anyways, you think we should check up on them?"
"I'll tell the guards to search their quarters more thoroughly. But I don't think they're really trying anything. Seems like their spirits broke." Carter responded.
Their was silence for a few moments as Echo devoured their food. When Matt was done, he took his tray, stretched and said, "I'm going back to our quarters."
"I'll go with you." Scar said. "I'm done anyways."
Matt tilted his head in Jamie's direction, smiling. Jamie shook his head and rolled his eyes in response.
As they walked back to put their trays up, Matt winced and rolled his shoulder. "God, I'm still really sore from the fight."
"Tell me about it. Malcolm's still working on my armor; one of the overlapping side plates shattered when that Atlantian caught me with his mace."
"We'll need some major improvements to our equipment before the next battle. I'm gonna go work on the new prototypes when we get back."
They put their trays up, navigating the halls between the Mess and Echo Team's personal berths. Matt unlocked the door with his key, tossing his combat pack casually on his bunk.
The room wasn't all that large, but it sufficed to hold six bunks, a couch shoved against a wall across from a TV, and a fairly spacious kitchen. It looked a lot like a college apartment. A small doorway lead into the team's workshop. Stainless steel tables lined the walls, and before them rested floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, arranged by category. Tools were scattered all over the tables, as well as prototype equipment. Lifeless suits of armor lay with sprawled limbs, eerily similar to corpses, their plates removed for access to the components underneath. Along the middle of one wall was a large projector-screen with several images and schematics fighting for space. Diagrams of larger objects were tacked to cork-boards, such as the prototype Leviathan tanks they had first seen in Leonidas's workshop.
And one corner of the workshop Malcolm had devoted to their most recent studies - The Atlantian equipment, and dinosaurs.
Yawning, Matt sank into the couch. "So."
"So." Scar laughed as she climbed to the top bunk and lay down.
"How's it going between you and Jamie?"
Scar sat up, looked around the room, and mouthed, 'Awkward.' "Can't we find anything else to talk about? Like seriously you always do this."
"Do what?" Matt asked, laughing.
"Make it really awkward." Scar answered.
"When have I ever done that?" Matt asked. Then stopped and thought.
"Oh, let's see. How about at that football game, where I borrowed your jacket? Or how you would barely talk to me after-"
"That was not my fault. You said no to me, and yes to him, and you and everyone else just made it really awkward after that, cause every time I like sat next to you or talked to you the rest of the school would start yelling and whooping." Matt laughed.
"That's not my fault. All I'm saying is, you generally make it very awkward."
"I'm sorry. What would you like to talk about then?"
"Well I don't know! You can't just do that either. That's awkward too, but in a different way."
Laughing, Matt rolled onto his back and said, "We could talk about the prototype armor system we're working on. Or the biological tissue samples of real dinosaurs."
"Seriously?" Scar climbed off the bed and sat on Matt's chest, crossing her legs. "This give you any topics for conversation?"
"Well, one, but I don't think you want to hear about it." Then curled into a ball, shaking with laughter as Scar got up, turned around, and slapped him with a sock.
Sitting back down, she said, "Seriously, there must be something interesting to talk about."
"That depends on your definition of interesting."
Scar rolled her eyes and sighed, blowing a strand of hair from her face. "Watch. How's it going with you and Holly?"
"Didn't you just-"
"That's my point. What are you supposed to say?"
Matt shook his head and let it pass. "So. I saw you and that Atlantian guy sliding around in the mud some." He said eventually.
"Oh come on. How about if it was me and Summers? Who do you think would win?" Scar asked.
"I won't take a side. All I can say is I hope your in bikinis" Matt said, faking a straight face.
Scar snickered. "Yeah, wrestling is a really weird sport."
Matt sat up on an elbow and raised an eyebrow. "I beg to differ. Wrestling is amazingly awesome have you ever tried it?"
"Well, no."
"The gayest part is when people who don't do it say it's gay. It's actually not that bad, considering no one's really thinking about that out on the mat and guys wrestle. Its a genetic thing."
"I mean, it wouldn't be as bad if it were like-" Scar cut off.
"Yes?"
"Nevermind."
As Scar slid into a more comfortable position, Matt asked, "You don't think Jamie would be mad?"
"We don't have to tell him everything I do."
"Ah-ha. Very devious."
"Well, it's not like we're going out or anything. So technically, I'm free to do whatever I want."
"Very true."
"Why, do you not like it?"
"I think I'll be fine."
Looking at Scar's tanned neck, which was pressed into his face, Matt wondered, "So, with your psi-healing and all, if I cut you would it like, automatically heal?"
"I dunno."
"Here, let me poke you with this knife and let's see-"
"Emo!" Scar screamed. "Do not touch me with that thing."
Matt withdrew his butterfly knife and began to play with it, twirling it end over end.
"I swear to God, if you drop that on me," Scar said, growing serious.
"I won't drop it unless you bump me." Matt answered, rolling his eyes. Scar wiggled, shoving her butt into his chest.
Matt fumbled with the knife and dropped it as Scar hopped back, drawing her knees to her chin. The blade landed quivering between Matt's legs.
"Thanks for that." Matt said. Scar laughed.
Matt struggled with the heavy full-body armor. The second generation Tactical Combat Armor, nicknamed "Croc Armor." It weighed about 80 pounds. Matt hoisted it by the chest onto its hook, wiping his forehead with his arm.
He and Malcolm had been working on it for quite a while, but they finally had gotten it right. Matt grabbed a mace from a cart of Atlantian tech, gripped it, and swung it at the armor. The plates flexed and withstood the blow.
Matt smiled. A blow like that would have shattered the plates on the old armor. Now all they had to do was send it into the official techies, who would begin mass-producing it.
The new Croc Armor was bulkier, heavier, but also more protective. It had all the features of the old armor: The helmet with GUSS, HUD, FOF, comm. system, TacMap, and physiological status monitors, 180 degree visor, and sonic filters. The helmet also had mics in six different locations - three in front and three in back - to triangulate gunfire, providing the soldier with 360 degrees of situational awareness. Then the armor, which was comprised of three layers - the outer protective shell, the sandwiched electronics suite and exoskeleton, and the inner life-support layer with a skin-tight material that could heat and cool to varying temperatures. The shell used a hybrid of titanium and ballistic ceramics, coated in ultra-thin layers of Shear-Thickening Liquid, with a smart-fluid gel in bladders between plates, which absorbed the impact of a round and converted the kinetic energy into thermal energy, which was then dissipated throughout the bladder and tapped off by an extensive heat sink system.
The entire armor was powered by a fusion cell. The physiological status monitors not only displayed a soldier's stress, hydration, pulse, body temperature, and blood pressure statistics, but also uploaded all of the information onto the GUSS, where it could be viewed by any other American soldier connected to the system. The monitors could also auto-inject IVs of various medical drugs or water, housed in a small, streamlined, integrated backpack storage pack.
On top of all the old features, the armor also boasted larger enhanced protection plates with bigger and higher-quality smart-liquid gel bladders that more efficiently converted kinetic energy to heat. Thus the plates didn't shatter when struck with the Atlantian melee weaponry.
Matt lifted the helmet off its cradle and fit it over his head. Using the controls on the armor gauntlet, he manipulated the visor to display the newest addition - an MRI feed. Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Used by hospitals and such worldwide to diagnose illnesses, the machine used high-intensity magnets to create an internal image of objects, usually humans in order to determine any problems or faults.
Matt turned it on and examined his arm. He could see the bones and tendons and muscles in his body, as if his skin wasn't even there. It was a bit blurry, but not terribly.
"Very cool." Matt murmured, replacing the helmet and picking up the prototype XM8. The new standard clips held 50 rounds of 6.8mm armor-piercing, but they also had specialized clips. One version was filled with 30 rounds of 7.62mm semi-explosive tipped ammunition, to punch through Atlantian armor. Another one had 50 rounds of 6.8mm soft-tipped anti-personnel ammunition, for use against the unarmored flesh of dinosaurs.
The gun itself had been modified to be able to fire faster and longer, and made out of stronger materials, to withstand the shock of the impacts it was likely to receive warding off Atlantian sword blows.
Turning the carbine upside down, Matt inspected the new XM320 grenade launcher attached to the bottom. The original versions had space for one 40mm grenade; this one had two independent launching tubes. On the side of the front, an integrated bayonet was fixed in place.
Matt put the rifle back, withdrew the MP7 from the tray next to the carbine. The only significant advancements for these were recoil absorbers and improved balance, for easier one-handed firing. Matt put the SMG down and picked up the HK Magnum.
12.7mm explosive anti-armor slugs in 12 round clips. These packed some serious punch.
Drawing a titanium-composite saber, Matt grinned as Scar approached him from behind and fingered the edge of the blade, then lifted a mace and a one-handed axe from their cradles next to it. The next encounter with Atlantian forces would be significantly different. He could hardly wait.
"I can trust you, right?" Jamie asked out of the corner of his mouth.
"Yeah, sure. For what?" Malcolm responded.
"Not to be a total dipstick in front of these girls?"
"No worries. I can handle it."
Jamie looked at him in mock surprise.
"That hurts." Malcolm said, faking a wounded expression.
Jamie smiled. "Alright then."
Summer and a group of her girls were in the crew's lounge, sitting around a coffee table and discussing their next excursion into the jungle.
Jamie turned to Malcolm and said, "I'll leave it to you to make all the smart observations about their plans and stuff. You wanna tackle the pickup line?"
"Not particularly. Got anything intelligent?"
"Nope. Oh, how about, 'If I told you you had a gorgeous body, would you hold it against me?'"
"Umm....no."
"Well, do you have anything better?"
"...No. Maybe, 'So you're Sergeant Summers. How the hell did the red-head get a name like Ghost?"
"Yeah, well..."
"See, that's the best."
"No, I mean, I can think of tons, just not any of them have a chance of working. They're not very clean, either. Besides I've never much needed pickup lines I usually just go with the Campbell charm."
"We could do this in usual Jamie Style, you know, wing it."
"No Malc this is how we are going to do this......."
Jamie and Malcolm stood up and started towards the girls.
"Why do I have to be the stupid one?" Malcolm whined.
"Because you asked a stupid question like that." Jamie said. Malcolm grimaced and split off towards the bar.
Jamie strutted towards the girls' corner, sank into an empty recliner, and put his feet on the table. Malcolm followed a second later with two bottles of coke.
Summer smiled to herself. "Can I have a sip?"
Jamie focused on maintaining a straight face. "Why, of course."
Summer unscrewed the lid and took a sip.
"No cooties, right?" Malcolm asked, faking a serious expression. Summer's entourage giggled. Malcolm's bottle was promptly swiped.
Jamie ran his hands through his ultra-short buzz cut. "So. This is the awkward part, where we've just gotten here and all, and no one's really talking much, and no one has any idea what to say. So....."
"Isn't that your job, to come with all the smart commentary?" Summer asked. "I'm surprised you haven't tried any lines yet. You must be more mature than I thought."
Malcolm and Jamie snickered. "Um... not really. We've got a whole list, if you wanna hear them, but none of them are very clean or have any chance of actually working besides as pathetic jokes. And as for guys coming up with smart commentary, where have you been throughout the last 16 million years of human evolution? We're the dipsticks that evolved thicker skulls for wacking eachother, not witty banter. Watch, I'll demonstrate," and Jamie reached over and smacked Malcolm with the back of his hand. Malcolm rubbed his head and smacked Jamie back with his other hand. They then continued drinking, completely unperturbed.
"You know, I haven't had many guys approach me with that line."
"I'm sure you probably haven't," Jamie admitted. "Although, hypothetically, if you had, what would you say?"
"Hypothetically, I might call that a failed attempt at self-deprecation and an even bigger failure of a pickup line. Theoretically, of course." Summer grinned, flashing pristine white teeth.
"Oh. Good thing it wasn't a pickup line then." Malcolm reasoned.
"Oh I dunno I think it's cute." One of the other girls said.
Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Seriously or joking?"
"You'll never know." She responded, faking serious.
"Let's not be too hasty there. I can think of at least one way." Jamie grinned wolfishly.
"How would you do that?" Malcolm asked.
"Easy, would any of you girls like to dance?" Jamie looked at Summers. She stood up and took his hand. He led her out from the table to the empty dance floor in the middle of the lounge. On the way he tossed a CD into the Stereo and pulled her close to him. Cobra Starships, "I Make Them Good Girls Go Bad" started and they danced to the beat. By the end of the song a few other Marines had pushed some tables out of the way and started dancing. Jamie and Summers came back and plopped down at the table.
"Can you teach me that trick?" Malcolm asked. Jamie winced inwardly. Malcolm was going a little heavy on the acting.
"Skill, confidence and a little finesse." Jamie said, winking at Summers before downing his coke. He ran his hair through his hair and then he noticed something. Most of the other girls were looking at Malcolm expectantly. Malcolm was looking at him.
Jamie jerked his head at the dance floor. Malcolm didn't take the hint.
"Okay ladies, who wants to show Malcolm how to dance?" They giggled before two of them pulled him from his seat. They all started for the dance floor, dragging Malcolm behind them. He looked back over his shoulder at Jamie and Summers sitting down at the table.
"You're the Devil." Malcolm said before signaling under the one of the girls arm.
"Have fun with the girls." Jamie said raising his glass to his friend and winking.
"Nice plan. You play the Suave card, he acts stupid. You get one of the girls and he gets the rest. I have to say, pretty clever." Summers said looking at Jamie over the table.
"He doesn't need me to pick up chicks, but this way I can try and keep him from some of the skankier girls. That and it's pretty fun, all while getting him more experience." Jamie replied lazily.
"Awww how cute, taking care of your little brother." Summers smiled at the young Marine.
"I look after both my goofy brothers. Matt is pretty good on his own though, low maitenance." He looked out at the floor to see Malcolm getting down with the girls. "Though I'm surprised you picked up on that. You haven't studied telepathic invasion methods, have you?"
"Can't say that I have. But you'd know if I was trying to read your mind."
"But if, hypothetically, you had studied telepathic invasion methods, wouldn't you know how to break into my mind without alerting me?"
"Not necessarily. It depends on the mind. Weak minds are easy to break and read, and usually without them even knowing. Stronger minds, however..." Summers trailed off.
They sat there drinking their cokes for a few minutes.
"Don't tell my squad I said any of that. They'll think I've gone soft."
"I won't, if you do one thing for me."
"What is that?"
"Dance with me some more."
"As you wish Madame," He replied, taking her hand and walking onto the dance floor. The rest of the night was a blur of techno music and dancing.
Jason tread forward carefully in the almost non-existent lighting, one hand lightly brushing the wall to keep his bearings.
He and his entire team, Heracles, Daedalus, Achilles, Brutus, Aaron, and Alexander, were stretched out in a single-file line, picking a path through the latrine pit. They had managed to get everyone out of their cells, and now Jason was betting on the Americans having put a service door into the latrine pit. After only a day, it smelled down there.
A faint rectangle of light filtered into the room, about twenty yards away. Jason signaled towards the door, and his team lined up on both sides in classic Atlantian breaching formation. Jason counted off, then twisted the handle. Locked.
Daedalus stepped forward, carrying an assortment of spoons and forks shaven to different thicknesses, all saved from dinner. In the morning, the inspectors would find the utensils missing and report it. But in the morning would be too late, because the entire crew would be out by then.
Daedalus used a thicker piece of metal to apply torque while he wiggled a thin piece up and down, bouncing the pins. After about six seconds, he got the three locking pins and twisted the lock. It turned smoothly, and then the door was unlocked.
Jason thumped Daedalus on the back. "Nice. Alright, I think we're in the service hallway. I don't think this place is all that big. We're going to make it to the surface, then find our way out of here. Heracles, take point. Alexander sweeper. Keep low, four pous spread. Appropriate any weaponry you find. Hand signals from now on."
His team nodded. Jason waved forward with two fingers and they moved out, four feet from eachother. In a single-file, staggered line, they made their way up a sloping hallway that lead to another door, again locked, at the top where it leveled out. This lock proved no more challenging to Daedalus than the first had been. The team crept quietly out from the service corridor and into the main compound.
After about two minutes of painfully slow progress, they came to a four-way junction, and Heracles raised a fist. Jason silently slithered forward. Heracles leaned down and said, "Two man patrol, coming from the corridor on the left."
Jason nodded, then motioned for his team. They stacked up in a line against the wall, with Jason at the edge.
The patrolling soldiers were in no particular hurry. This was a dead-end job, guarding prisoners, and they walked at a leisurely pace, unalarmed and oblivious.
The first one crossed the threshold into the four-way junction. Jason lurched forward, slammed the patrol into the wall, wrapped an arm around the soldier's throat and squeezed. The second patrol man reacted slowly - he had barely even raised his rifle when Heracles rounded the corner, slamming a fist into the soldier's throat. The soldier flew back, gagging, and was promptly disposed of.
On the GUSS feed, two green lights winked to red, and the Ops Center was notified. However, it was early, and the alert level was low. The Ops Center dispatched a team to investigate and hailed the patrol on the comm.
"Stalker two-one, this is Overlord, come in stalker two-one."
Daedalus quickly ripped the soldier's helmet off and fit it over his head. After about five seconds of tinkering with the soldier's gauntlet controls, Daedalus managed to open a text-message sub-channel on the GUSS systems, and sent a pre-programmed message from the helmet's onboard computer. It was a system malfunction error notification. That would keep the Americans off their trail for a while.
"Nice work. Strip the armor and gear, then let's move. Aaron, Brutus, Achilles, Heracles, set up a perimeter. Daedalus and Alexander, give me a hand here."
Jason fit the second helmet over his head and swiped the soldier's carbine and ammo gear. He tossed the Marine's MP7 to Alexander, as well as all of the associated ammo, and gave the Magnum to Heracles. Achilles took the second rifle, Daedalus the second MP7, and Brutus the last Magnum. They dumped the grenades and extra ammo on Aaron.
"Sweet." Aaron said, but didn't complain.
"Achilles, point." Jason said. "Break's over. Let's go."
Achilles swept the halls in front of them while Alexander brought up the rear. Now that they were in the main compound, patrols were more frequent, and the team had to stop and duck into empty storage rooms or vacant hallways every couple minutes to avoid being seen. Their newly acquired weapons, Jason was all too aware, were not suppressed, and any shots would bring the entire base crashing on their heads.
It was a hair-raising change of pace from the all-out, unconstrained battle a few days before, but Orca finally made it to a side exit, blocked only by two guards in a booth to the side of a garage-type door. Jason drew the six-inch "Sabertooth" combat knife he had taken from the patrol, flipped it backhand, and waited for Achilles to do the same on the other side of the door. Jason raised three fingers. Achilles nodded.
On one, Jason burst into the guardhouse and gripped the first soldier's head in the crook of his elbow. With practiced ease, Jason brought the blade up to the Marine's neck and drew it across the man's throat.
Two more bios flatlined on the GUSS. The Ops Center went to mid-alert and notified two teams to check on the guards. By the time they got there, Orca was already gone, having stolen the Marines' armor, ammo, and weaponry, and survival gear as well. The check-in teams reported the two dead bodies, which was soon elevated to four as the two patrol men were found minutes later. Command went to high-alert and notified the base perimeter defenses, but by then it was too late. Orca had slipped away, into the jungle.
Sirens wailed throughout the barracks. Matt, relaxing in a bunk in Echo's personal berths, scrambled to his feet. Scar hopped up from their couch, looked at Matt, and together they sprinted down the hallways to the armory. Loudspeakers blared in the halls as Matt and Scar dodged in between soldiers running after weapons and armor, saying, "Red alert, red alert. Prison breach. All units report to your NCO for further instructions. Red alert, red alert..." The message repeated continuously.
"It's gotta be Jason." Matt yelled as he and Scar burst through the door to the armory.
"How do you know?" Scar yelled back.
"His was the only squad not attempting escape. They planned something. I dunno what, but they planned something."
Matt stripped off his Echo Team regulation t-shirt and pants, stepped into his skin-tight under-armor layer, and stood still while an operator fit the numerous pieces of his new armor over his body.
"Running start-up scripts... Combat software engaged... diagnostics running... weapon linkup..." The operator muttered under his breath. "Green lights across the board. Good luck, sir," and put an XM8 carbine into Matt's hands. Matt nodded, then raced into the deployment bay, found Carter, and met up with the rest of Echo.
"Took your sweet time getting here!" Carter shouted.
"Yeah, I stopped by the lounge and picked up a few drinks. Anyone care for some Tequila?" Matt asked.
"Stow it, we've got to move," Carter responded. "Squad, mount up," and pointed at a line of Assault Recon Motorbikes.
Matt and Jamie glanced at eachother. "I'm driving." They both said at once.
"We'll need to take three anyways. Frost and Aura, Pyro and Flare, Scorch and me. Move it, ladies."
Matt jumped onto one of the ARMs and jerked the handlebars towards the exit, turning the electronic key that was already in the ignition. The ARM roared to life with a throaty purr, and Matt waited just long enough for Holly to get on the back and mount the weapons station before he gunned the engine and threw the motorbike forward.
"Echo one-two this is Overlord. Prisoners have fled into the jungle. We're sending Alpha and Charlie teams on their flanks to flush them out, you guys put them down when they come running out of the bush. Be advised, targets are armed with US tech and weaponry, proceed with caution."
"Rules of engagement?" Carter growled.
"Targets expendable." Overlord replied immediately. "They must not leave the immediate vicinity and rendezvous with a larger Atlantian force carrying our weapons and technology. Do not let them escape, over."
"Roger that. Echo out."
"Classic," Jamie said over the comm. "Beat the grass and be ready when the birds come flying."
"Yeah. Let's hope Orca's never been duck hunting before." Matt agreed.
"I've got you covered." Holly assured him.
Matt accelerated into the jungle, swerving to avoid trees and the denser brush, but for the most part he let the ARM's specially designed front armor pulverize the jungle vegetation and throw it to either side of the vehicle. Holly kept one eye on her TacMap, advising Matt on the best route to take and highlighting it in his HUD.
"Team, these guys may not be our friends but they sure as hell aren't our enemies. If possible, use non-lethal force to apprehend. However, if they are going to escape, open up. Like command said, they can't leave with our weapons and tech." Carter said over the comm.
"Acknowledged." Jamie muttered.
Malcolm cursed over the comm.
"What is it?" Matt asked.
"Our tracers went dead. They must have pulled them out of the collars in the armor. I'm uploading their last known location into your HUDs."
Matt slowed the ARM down to a crawl as they drew near. The engine, which was never loud anyways due to the electric power instead of gas and mufflers on the bike, dropped to dead-silent. The only sound from the ARM was of the wheels rolling over dry leaves.
Holly swept the guns back and forth over the terrain.
"Watch the skies." Malcolm whispered. "Previous engagements say Atlantians love to drop down from the trees."
"Duly noted. Keep an eye out for dinos too." Jamie reminded them.
Matt shivered, even in the middle of a tropical jungle, inside climate-controlled armor. Now that the first mad rush was over, he began to remember the creatures that haunted these trees. Every shadow took on heightened detail as his senses went into hyper-awareness. Trees were outlined razor sharp. The slightest movement drew Matt's tracking eyes instantly, and Matt reflexively tensed up. He patted his hip, drawing comfort from the MP7 SMG fastened there.
A piece of bark fell off a tree from high above. Matt had his SMG out and following the small moving shape within half a second.
"Hold your fire!" He told Holly. The creature crawled down the tree with its clawed hands, surveying the odd machine that intruded on its jungle. Matt stared back, then zoomed in from his visor and snapped a still-image of the dino.
The GUSS database immediately came back with the creature's name and details, but Matt was already mouthing the words to himself. Dinosauria was his area of expertise.
"Microraptor. One to three feet in length, one foot in height. Part of the Dromaeosaurid family of dinosaurs. Subject has wing-configurations on all four limbs. Subject is part of the overall contributing evidence suggesting birds evolved from a four-wing shared dominance stage in early fliers such as these to a two-wing front-limb dominance stage in modern birds. Microraptors generally travel in packs, like most members of the Dromaeosaurid family, and are extremely quick and agile. Wings allow them to fly, or by some interpretations, glide, a distance of 100 yards between the trees of their environment. Although Microraptors are small, it should be noted that they share the large Dromaeosaurid claws, and when attacking in packs or defending territory, can be quite vicious."
Jamie replaced his MP7 in its magnetic clips and drew his rifle off his back, fit a suppressor to the barrel, sighted down the scope, and nailed the prehistoric bird to the tree with a three-round burst of 6.8mm ammunition.
The Microraptor squawked and fell, trailing blood. It hit the jungle floor but didn't die, still squawking. Jamie sat up in his seat and drilled the creature with another burst. It fell, dead this time.
"Why do I have a feeling that's going to come back to haunt us?" Malcolm groaned as the jungle filled with sound of chirping birds.
Two more Microraptors appeared on branches in the jungle. Then two more. And two more. But the scary part was for every visible Microraptor, there were four more hiding in the foliage.
Matt got off the bike and swept the area with his rifle.
"Do not open fire!" Malcolm commanded in a hoarse whisper. "The gunfire might cause them to attack. I dunno about you guys, but I like my eyes where they are."
"Command, we have a situation here. Please advise." Carter growled, sweeping the jungle with the bike's 40mm and .50 cal turret.
"You are at the target zone. Orca team is nearby, and they probably know your position. I suggest you leave the bikes and proceed on foot. The specialists here say if the Micros engage, pop a flash-bang. It should stun them and drive them off."
"Roger, Overlord. Thanks for the advice."
Frowning, Matt said, "That isn't good enough. How the h are we going to get flashbangs out when our faces are clawed to pieces?" Matt withdrew a green flare from his assault vest.
"Overlord this is Frost, be advised, I am popping green flare." Matt activated the flare and waved it over his head.
The assembled Microraptors went crazy, chirping and squawking to eachother. Matt coiled back and threw the flare into a tree with a bunch of Micros on it, watching with satisfaction as they scattered and peeled off.
"Eyes open for Orca. Overlord, what's the word on those support squads you sent?"
"Hold one, Echo, we-"
"Overlord? Come in, Overlord."
"They're gone. All of them. Bios flatlining."
Fear sent a chill down Matt's spine, and the hair on his neck stood on end. He clutched his XM8 more tightly now.
"Command say again, you're telling me that all of them are gone?" Carter asked.
"Affirmative, Echo. Helmet cams all dark. Even the Strykers."
A sudden chattering sent Echo whirling around. The Microraptors were congregating again, this time both in the trees and on the ground. Carter popped another green flare and scattered them.
"Echo this is Overlord, we're sending reinforcements."
Adrenaline spiked through Matt's body. The shadows seemed to be moving in, drawing closer. He spun in continuing circles, afraid that at any second something would get him from the spaces he wasn't watching.
There was no gunfire. No sound at all, in fact. Matt took one step forward and felt his leg wrenched from beneath him, and suddenly he was flying through the canopy. Gunfire erupted below him, and Jamie shouted on the comm, "Matt! Mat-" and then a thump as he was tackled by something big and armored.
"Contact! Contact! Open fire!" Carter shouted. He whirled to his side and opened fire full-auto, but the shadow dodged to the side and kicked Carter's rifle out of his hands.
Carter ducked the shadow's swing, caught a kick aimed at his hips, and brought his MP7 around. He managed two sustained bursts before that too was swept out of his hands, and then his feet were kicked out from under him. Carter rolled onto his back and lashed out with his legs, but the shadow dodged to the side.
In a shaft of light that somehow penetrated the canopy, the shadow resolved into the shape of Achilles. Carter didn't see anything other than that, because his head was knocked to the side with a viscous kick. His helmet came off and rolled to a stop under a tree.
Carter tried to crawl to his SMG but a foot pinned his chest in place. Carter looked up to see a savage smile, then dropped out as Achilles's boot smacked into his face.
Matt came to a stop, 150 feet above the forest floor, to see Jason crouching in a branch next to him. There was a vine looped around Matt's ankle, and Jason was holding the rope connected to a weight at the other end.
Jason draped the rope around a tree branch and grinned.
Matt struggled. His rifle was hanging by its strap from his wrist, and he managed to grab it and twist around, aiming at Jason-
But Jason wasn't there anymore. Matt twisted wildly, but then a shot rang out, and Matt's carbine dropped from his hands. Matt rubbed his wrist where it had been shot and looked towards the sound of the gunfire.
Jason's face appeared inches away from Matt's. Matt yelled in surprise and jerked back instinctively. There was a 9-shot Atlantian revolver hanging loosely from Jason's hand, still smoking from the single shot it had fired.
Matt knew he would never reach his Magnum or his MP7 before Jason blew his brains out.
Matt grabbed his knife and began to saw at the vine that was holding him in the tree. Jason laughed and said, "I wouldn't do that," in Atlantian, which was nearly unintelligible to Matt, but he didn't care. There were four main strands to the vine, and he had cut through three of them now.
Jason's revolver was now pressed against Matt's cheek. Jason's face sent a clear message - don't do that.
Drop dead, Matt thought, and then threw Jason off his feet with a TK blast that sent him reeling through empty space, frantically grasping for anything that would support him.
Matt sawed through the last strand and fell, clearing the way beneath him with a single wave of his arm.
Still clutching his knife with his right hand, Matt spread-eagled himself in the air to maintain stability. When he was twenty feet from the forest floor, Matt collected a cushion of air and forced it into him. They had practiced this kind of landing many times in training, but he was now a little rusty and it didn't look quite as graceful as he had hoped. Matt landed and stumbled, regained his feet, and pulled his MP7.
"Matt!" Jamie shouted. Matt's head whipped around to see Jamie and Heracles locked into a grapple, pummeling eachother. With Heracles's unnatural strength and size, he was winning.
Matt advanced, drilling bursts into the back-plate of the new Croc armor Heracles was now wearing. He had had to dissassemble the plates and fit them on with strips of carbon fiber and duct-tape, with the result that there were substantial gaps between the plates. But acting in opposition to Matt's efforts, the plates simply deflected the rounds and dumped a third of the boiling impact gel before it cooled enough, and they then continued absorbing rounds like a giant marshmallow, albeit a marshmallow with armor-plated sides.
Alexander appeared from nowhere and clocked Matt in the face. Matt stumbled to a knee, then drove back up with a shot of his own. Alexander dodged out of the way and melted back into the jungle.
Matt drew himself to his feet and wiped the blood off his mouth. His armor would inject him with a pain-killer, anti-bacterial, platelet-enhancement drug automatically.
Matt became aware of a presence behind him. He dropped to a crouch, planted a hand in the dirt, and kicked his legs out at his assailant, savoring the feel of his feet smacking into whatever was behind him.
Matt rose and saw Aaron having taken the blow, smiled, and lashed out again with his foot. Aaron went flying.
Then Brutus dropped from a tree and swung his rifle at Matt's head, dropping Matt to the ground with a dull throbbing. The blow would have killed him if not for his helmet.
Panicked, Matt rolled away and blasted the area with TK. Brutus ducked his head but went flying, and Matt ran to check on Jamie and the rest of the squad.
Holly was battling Alexander, and she was losing. Her face was busted and her armor read no impact-gel left in the bladders on her chest and back plates.
Scar was on her feet still, being tormented by Daedalus, with Aaron running in to help.
Jamie was almost unconscious, dodging attacks from Heracles.
Malcolm had been struggling to stand, a hole in his knee, with his rifle, but as Matt watched he was taken back to the ground by an angry Brutus.
Carter was down. Achilles had his foot planted on Carter's chest and was surveying the rest of the battle, a demonic look of enjoyment on his face.
Jason coughed, and Matt whirled around to see him sitting calmly on a low-hanging tree branch, fifteen feet above the ground.
Matt spit, fumbling for his Magnum. Jason leveled the revolver balanced in his lap and shot Matt's hand again. Matt growled and sent a TK blast that cracked the branch, but Jason had been expecting it. He dove to the side and hooked a vine, swinging into a shadow. When the vine came back around the tree, Jason wasn't on it.
Matt picked up his Magnum and scanned the area, turning in wide, arcing circles. This was a nightmare. Jason and his team were literally one with the jungle. They were allies, and the jungle was certainly doing its share of the work.
Matt paused, then rolled and aimed to a point above where his head had been.
Nothing. Matt had been expecting Jason to pop out right above him, but apparently Jason had other intentio-
A shape dropped from above Matt and tackled him to the ground. Matt heaved and turned onto his back, sending Jason scuttling into the dirt. Jason drew a sword in one hand and shot Matt's Magnum again with his revolver, disappearing once again into the jungle.
Matt growled, muttering, "Try this out for size."
Crouched quietly behind a forked tree, Jason blinked in surprise, his eyes widening. A swath of flames swept through the jungle in great arcs, as if from a flamethrower. Jason dived to the side and barely avoided direct contact with the arc of flames, but even so, he was almost cooked in his stolen Croc armor as the climate conditioning struggled to keep the temperature normal, and the impact-gel boiled and was dumped to the sides from the plates.
Jason spit dirt and wiped his mouth. Counting on the thermal insulation in his stolen gauntlets, Jason picked his scorched sword back up and advanced.
Matt, on the other side of a line of foliage, fell to his knees. Fire took the most energy to form of all the base elements. He touched his head as the Hangover set in and tried to shake it aside and stand, but it was too late. Jason was already there, a sword leveled at Matt's exposed throat and a large smile painting his face.
Homepage: Atlantis
Next Chapter: Atlantis Rising: Chapter 12
