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Book 3 - Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2020-11-11 10:45:41 +0000 UTCTransporter 001
Destination: Al Anbar Desert
A hot, dry desert wind was making dust devils dance in the distance, as the lone transporter landed in the middle of nowhere.
Michael had asked Max to find them some nearby location that could be used for interrogation since the transporter was getting rather full. The AI chose a rock outcropping, a hundred miles into the Al Anbar Desert. It was not the most hospitable place on Earth. With virtually no rainfall during the year, one would be hard-pressed even to find a single blade of grass. Yet, it was a place with one redeeming feature—there were no people around.
After they carried the five unconscious men from the transporter, Alice gave them injections to neutralize the sedatives in their blood; the neutralizing agent acted very fast, and in a few minutes, they started to wake up.
“What is happening?” One of the men mumbled in Arabic, rubbing his eyes to clear his vision.
Michael gave them a few more moments before he spoke.
“If I can have your attention,” he said, and the five men lying on the ground looked at him.
“I think that any attempt to reason with you is an exercise in futility,” he continued while Max used his battle-suit external speakers and instantly translated those words into their language. “Nevertheless, I will try to be civil. There are a few questions I like answered, and the main one being the most important,” Michael said and looked at five confused men. “Where are the remaining biological weapons you stole from the Russians?”
The men looked at him with confusion in their eyes, until he said that last thing. Instead of answering him, they reacted by calling him names and spitting in his direction. One of them even started screeching at him and pointing at the older man, who was in a fit of rage.
“This is Ayatollah Mohammad Hussain Sefat; you are calling the wrath of God on your head for abducting him!”
Michael looked at the older man and the expression of hate on his face. “Personally, I don't care if he is the reincarnation of Donald Duck, this isn’t about religion. In fact, I have the utmost respect towards your deity, and all deities in general. But I have a strong suspicion that when you go to pay him a visit, he will kick your sorry asses straight to Tartarus, and if you think Hadeswill have a warm welcome for you... you’re probably right.”
The five men grew silent and looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he was talking about. Over the comms, Michael could hear Al snickering, until Max muted his connection.
“As I said before, I came for a few answers, and by all gods in heaven, I’m going to get them. We can do this in a civilized manner or… not. The decision is yours.”
“We have an entire city of soldiers that will be looking for us, and when they inevitably find you, you will be shown no mercy. You should let us go now, and start running,” a tall man with a long beard boastfully said.
Michael couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I don’t think they will be looking for you, they are having so much trouble of their own. You see, each of your groups believes that the other ones are responsible for your disappearance, so now they are engaged in a small war. Besides, we took the liberty to inform the Iraqi government what was happening, so they will soon be visiting Al-Qa'im. I have no doubts that they will use the chaos we so thoughtfully created, and wipe your followers off the face of the world.”
“You lie… you filthy pig!” The man screamed and tried to launch himself at Michael, but one kick from Tyron returned him to his place.
“I’m not lying, it is honest to God’s truth. But let us return to what we were discussing earlier; what is your decision?”
Their next outburst was even fouler than the first and left much to be desired, if one followed universal rules of civilized discourse.
“Is that your final answer?” Michael asked them and received a string of insults in return.
“I thought so,” he quietly said.
Almost immediately, the men were zip-tied and had interrogation helmets placed on their heads.
There were the usual signs that they were resisting the interrogation; the shakes, occasional seizures, and foaming at the mouth.
Despite the effectiveness that the helmets had shown so far, this time the subjects exhibited unusual resilience. Not that unexpected from true religious fanatics, those who were ready to kill untold millions and remained unmoved by the suffering of others.
They were zealots, obsessive in their single-mindedness and beliefs. Not like the ‘High Council’ members that were born with silver spoons in their mouth and obsessed with profit and power, or regular foot soldiers that were ultimately just sheep these men had sent to slaughter.
Michael already knew they would not be so easy to crack as those before them, but he still had some hope one of them would break. Max had set a limit on helmets for one hour since longer exposure could be fatal, and that was ultimately ineffective.
“What now?” Tyron asked.
“We will have to improvise, I have one more option, but it is… rather final.”
“Let me try first,” Alice said. “I have a score to settle.”
Michael looked at her and saw the unwavering resolve in her eyes.
“Okay,” he answered, hoping it was the right choice.
They removed the interrogation helmets and Michael addressed them again.
“Have you reconsidered? I will get to the truth, one way, or the other. You may not believe it, but the helmets are more humane interrogation techniques than the others we shall employ.”
Even with the aftershocks of wearing the helmets, sweaty and still foaming at the mouth, the five men sneered at them and continued their litany about the righteousness of their cause, and of the punishment that awaited those who had given their soul to the Shaitan.
Michael met Alice’s eyes for a moment, and then nodded.
Alice took her helmet off and looked at the bound men. At seeing that she was a woman their agitation increased to new heights, calling her a whore, a harlot, and threatening her with all the nasty things that shall befall her.
She looked at them for a moment, letting them vent, and then came close to the nearest man and hit his face with the slap that reverberated across the desert.
“Silence!” She shouted, and a second later, she was facing five silenced terrorist leaders.
“You are the sorriest excuses for human beings on the planet,” she told them in perfect Arabic. “This moment, people are suffering all over the world and you are the cause. I have seen mothers grieving over the bodies of their dead babies, children saying last goodbyes to their parents. You five should have never been born, for you are the real disease.”
They looked at her uncomprehending; the words she spoke were meaningless to them.
“So much pain… and for what? No God would have approved of this atrocity, only small minds of delusional men.”
She took a deep breath and her face changed; the anguish on it, from remembering images she saw, solidified into an emotional and detached mask.
“Three times he asked you, and you refused him… it was not a wise decision, now let’s try it my way.”
She grabbed the robes of the one with the dirtiest mouth and lifted him into the air. Not saying a word, she took the knife from her belt and cut off all of his clothes. He tried to resist, but the skeletal and muscular systems upgrades made her far stronger than him; Alice threw him on the ground, face down, and sat on his back while his feet were facing the other four men.
“If I’m not mistaken, part of your beliefs include seventy-two virgins waiting for you in heaven, when you die. Well, for you, it is the fulfillment of your fantasies, to them, it is most certainly hell. All the same, I think they will be disappointed by your inability to perform.”
Reaching between his legs, she performed a variation on the move other members of the team had seen once before. The swearing man was castrated with one quick cut of a knife. To those four men, it was a horrifying experience; their faces were frozen in masks of shock and horror as if they could not quite believe what they saw. Each of them was powerful in his own right, deciding the fates of many, and with a strong belief in their own invulnerability. Yet, before them was a mere woman, one of those that were supposed to be meek and obedient. They should do what they were told, obeying the commands of men, not acting in such an inhuman way. The foreign ones, like the one before them, were only good for a little fun before they were disposed of.
In their minds, this creature was not a woman—she was an evil spirit that came straight from hell.
“And I will do the same to each and every one of you if you don’t start talking.”
Alice looked them in the eyes, and held the open hand with the gory piece of flesh on her palm; drops of blood falling from her hand upon the screaming man’s thighs.
Two of the men broke, one of them was the self-proclaimed Ayatollah who suddenly wanted to confess his sins, but he was mostly babbling everything at once.
The fifth man screamed at them to shut up, or he will kill them all, calling them traitors to their God. Even so, their fear of Alice was far greater; she was material and here, not some unseen deity.
Tyron silenced the defiant one with one well-placed punch in the head.
The bioweapons were hidden in an old secret chemical laboratory deep in the same desert they were in; some two hundred miles away from their current position.
The laboratory was a remnant of the old regime, built for the production of chemical weapons. After the fall of Saddam Hussein, it was abandoned until they found out its location and took over. There, the Bioweapons were handled by those that had expertise in handling such dangerous material, and who believed in their holy cause. They were the ones that created easily transportable delivery devices. The next wave of attacks was supposed to start soon, but the only one who knew of the location was the fifth man, the defiant one.
After they said everything they knew, the two talkative ones were put against the wall, together with the new castrato. Alice stuck a nano-patch over his wound, so he would not bleed out. He was lying next to the one who received her slap; that one was missing a few teeth and had a very dislocated jaw.
Michael poured some water on the leader’s face until the man woke up.
“Abdul al-Vasir, your friends told an interesting story, and were very informative about your laboratory in Al Anbar, but it seems that you are the only one who knows the location of the next attack. Now, I don't suppose you changed your mind and decided to unburden your soul?”
Despite the situation he was in, the man actually grinned. Michael could see the pure madness in his eyes; an evil that would never submit.
“I am the chosen one, his emissary on earth. You will get nothing from me; it is my destiny to clean the world of the filth you represent. That bitch from hell can cut all she likes; I will never betray my God.” He sneered with all the scorn and contempt of a true believer.
“As you wish,” Michael said and pulled out a small cylinder from his belt. He unscrewed the top and extracted a syringe filled with yellow glowing liquid, which he immediately injected into Abdul al-Vasir’s neck.”
“My brother made this as a tool of last resort,” he informed the struggling man. “It is a concoction that can trace its roots to sodium thiopental, the truth drug. Yet this is something far more potent and efficient; you will be compelled to tell the whole truth, there will be no option of holding back. Unfortunately, it has one serious side effect—it can only be used once. After you tell us everything we need to know, your brain will be somewhat fried, as in, you will need help to wipe your own ass.”
The man continued to struggle for a while until the drug took effect and then he calmed down with a blissful expression on his face.
The story he told was much grimmer than they ever expected, even in their worst-case scenarios. Abdul al-Vasir knew for many years exactly what was hidden in that Russian bioweapons’ storage facility. He was waiting for the right time and the right set of circumstances to begin his plan. His agents managed to steal three separate virulent strains from the facility. Their instructions were so precise; even they did not know what exactly they were taking.
The first two were bad enough, but the third was one of the most horrific inventions of human ingenuity. It was a chimera virus, made by combining some of the most devastating viruses known to science; encapsulated so it could survive for long periods of time, and it had 99% fatality. The incubation period was almost an entire month, enough time for it to spread wide.
If released, it would be the end of humanity, and that was precisely what Abdul al-Vasir planned. He wanted to clean the entire planet of the nonbelievers. The true believers, led by him, would survive protected by their faith… everyone else would go to Hell.
By the expression of his companions’ faces, even they were not aware of the full magnitude of Abdul al-Vasir’s plans. For all that, the most horrifying thing was that there was only one more attack planned, the final one.
There was a bomb already placed at United Nations headquarters in New York City, and it was set to activate in four hours, during the General Assembly meeting. The representatives of their countries would then spread the disease across the world.
He even had a backup plan, in case something went wrong with the UN device. A few of his most fanatical followers were stationed at the laboratory in this very desert, and they had the orders to release the other half of the third vial into the wind, if they were attacked or when the prearranged time came. That wind would carry it towards Baghdad, and from there it would spread everywhere.
“Now we know,” Michael said to the others. “This idiot is… was as crazy as they come,” he looked at Abdul al-Vasir who had a big happy grin on his face, while drool was running down his chin.
“Let’s get moving, we are once again on the clock.”
After tranquilizing all the terrorist leaders again, they loaded them all up in the transporter. To save space, Tyron was stacking them like firewood in the cramped luggage space. He said that they did not mind their accommodations since he got no complaints from the unconscious men.
A few minutes later, they were on their way towards the laboratory in the center of Al Anbar Desert.
***
Transporter 001
Al Anbar Desert (Above the Laboratory)
The lab was disguised to match the desert terrain surrounding it, one could pass right beside it and be entirely oblivious that it was there. It resembled its surroundings in the ancient canyon, where it was built. That was the problem—it was built far too well.
Max’s scans and their own observation confirmed that there was no way to get in undetected; tranquilizing mosquitoes couldn't enter as it was completely sealed. The same air filters that ensured that nothing escaped from it, worked in reverse too.
There were enough detection devices around it to pinpoint a small mouse, let alone grown men. Lasers, pressure plates, infrared sensors… it would seem that no expenses were spared when it came to security.
Michael initially thought to use a Hammer, and destroy the entire facility. Max quickly crushed that idea, since their kinetic weapons could not deliver 100% cast-iron certainty that the virus culture inside the building would be destroyed. Not unless they used so much acceleration, that there was a serious possibility of causing massive earthquakes that would devastate the entire region. They needed something that could generate an incredible amount of heat and burn down the lab. Michael knew only one thing that did that.
“Do you have any ideas? We need to be in New York very soon.” Tyron asked him.
“I have one, but I do not like it,” he replied.
Tyron could see a distinct expression on Michael’s face that signified he was in deep thought, weighing his options; the same one he saw enough time when they were in the field.
After a minute Michael nodded and said, “Max, take us at full speed to New York.”
“What about the laboratory?” Alice asked while the transporter was already gaining altitude and speed.
“We will sit this one out,” he answered, and continued, “Max, contact the presidents of the attacked countries, I need to make a request.”
***
Transporter 001
Destination: USA, New York City
It took about twenty minutes for the leaders of the USA, Russia, France, England, and Israel to join the videoconference.
“Thank you for joining me on such short notice,” he began without preamble, and then addressed the Russian president, “You should have told us what the third virus culture did.”
The Russian president looked ten years older than the last time Michael spoke to him. He looked deflated and beaten when he tiredly answered.
“We didn't know until a few days ago, this was created and buried so long ago, and they were insane to make it. It was the time when clinical paranoia was encouraged. When the original files were found and I was briefed… I almost couldn't believe it.”
Michael did not want to hear any more excuses; they had much bigger problems to deal with now.
“It doesn't matter anymore, you can all debate this whole fiasco when it’s over, then better make some new agreements about the weapons of mass destruction. Place better security on anything else that could possibly bite us in our collective asses in the future.”
He paused and took a deep breath. “Gentlemen, I need you to do something drastic, we have a location where the bioweapons are held, but there is no way to enter the facility without alarming the terrorists. At the first sign of trouble, they have been ordered to release the weaponized virus cultures, and that cannot be allowed to happen. So, my request to you is the use of a nuclear weapon, it will ensure a total neutralization of the bioweapons.”
He waited in silence while the presidents were still reeling in shock. This was not something to take lightly, and the calm way in which Michael delivered the request was a bit disturbing.
The Russian president broke the silence. “The Russian Federation will do it, it is our mess after all,” he said, with a steely edge in his voice.
Michael nodded and he could see the signs of relief on the remaining four men, as if a sudden burden they did not know they carried, lifted off their shoulders.
“All right, that one is settled, but we have one more problem to deal with. There is a bomb placed in UN Headquarters, and it is scheduled to detonate in two hours. Its activation is planned to disperse the third strain of the virus. President Garner,” Michael turned toward the man he considered his friend, “I need you to evacuate the building, but do not search for the bomb since it has anti-tampering sensors beside the timer. My team will get there within an hour, and we will take care of it, just make sure we have immediate and undisturbed access to the UN headquarters.”
“It will not be a problem, I will give the orders immediately,” President Garner replied.
“Oh yes, one more thing,” said Michael.” I have in my custody all the ringleaders of this atrocity and a few of their helpers. Have some agents at the site to take them off our hands, they should be held accountable for their crimes. You can settle between yourselves who gets to try them, but I would advise on a country that still practices the death penalty. If anyone ever deserved it—they did.”
After giving the Russian President coordinates of the terrorist’s laboratory, he said goodbye to them.
“Why are we giving the prisoners away?” Al asked. “We could throw them out of the airlock, and save everyone the trouble.”
Michael shook his head. “Because people need someone to blame, someone to punish for all that happened. This attack is already traumatizing entire countries; if they do not get even a small sense that justice was done, there will be random attacks on ordinary Muslim people who had nothing to do with these extremists. As in all things in life, people need closure to help them heal emotional wounds,” he replied and then addressed the AI. “Max, have one small transporter meet us at the UN building, and send one hover-board on it.”
The gravitational forces started climbing again as the transporter rushed toward the North American continent.
***
USA, New York City
The United Nations Headquarters
Their transporter brought them to the UN Headquarters, where they could see that a barricade was placed around the complex. Also, there were hundreds of onlookers lining the emergency barriers.
It never ceased to amaze Michael how people were so curious, particularly in situations when they could come to harm by just standing there. It was as if the self-preservation instinct of theirs, was somehow dampened when the critical mass was reached.
“They started gathering when the evacuation was announced,” Max said, “And the press arrived swiftly; this is a prime example that some people don’t have two brain cells to rub together.”
A few minutes before they reached New York City, the AI informed them that the Russian president had already bombed the laboratory site. The information was still fresh, but it will not be long before it traveled the globe. It would seem that the Russians were taking every precaution that the viruses would be absolutely neutralized. Instead of a tactical Nuke of a few kilotons, as Michael advised, the bomb they sent was in the megaton range. The mushroom cloud Max showed them was a few miles high, reaching the upper layers of Earth’s atmosphere.
The transporter, which had canceled its camouflage, slowly approached the ground, landing in front of the General Assembly building. Meanwhile, hundreds of telephones and cameras were flashing, taking pictures and videos while spontaneous applause came from the whole mass of people. Michael saw that one empty transporter was already waiting for them in front of the building.
“Why the hell are they clapping?” Al asked.
“They heard you were coming; those are all your fans.” Pete immediately answered.
“Huh?”
“How the hell should we know why they are clapping, maybe they think Elvis is coming back,” Pete said, shaking his head.
“We are the new show in town, and we did fly slowly down in a shiny flying saucer, it’s the novelty thing,” said Alice.
“If they really knew what was in that building, they would run to their cars and wouldn’t stop driving until there was no more available road in front of them,” Michael muttered.
The doors opened and they exited the craft, at which point the gathered people’s ovations increased to unhealthy sound levels.
The first man to approach them was wearing a full hazmat suit; Michael recognized his face through the clear plastic faceplate.
“Leader Freeman, I’m glad you could make it, some of us in the know were growing anxious.” The man said while offering his hand.
“Special Agent in Charge, we came as soon as we could. Congratulations on your promotion Martin, it was well deserved,” replied Michael, shaking the man’s hand.
“You know what they say, right place, right time,” Agent Martin smiled. “But on to the business at hand, we are bringing more backup to clear the idiots beyond the barricades, and we managed to evacuate the building. Unfortunately, UN security is making problems, they are still on the premises and refuse to allow you to go unsupervised… it is a jurisdiction thing.” He explained apologetically.
“As long as we can get inside and deal with it, we don’t care. Let’s go, that bomb in there is making my skin crawl.”
Led by the Secret Service agent, they entered the UN General Assembly building, disregarding the loud noise that followed them. The inconvenience they were warned about waited for them a few feet inside the building’s lobby. Five United Nations Security officers with uniforms that closely resembled that of NYPD, stood in a line, baring the way inside. Al smirked when he saw that on their faces, they were all wearing regular blue surgical masks.
“Stop right there, we will need some identification!” The one in front of others demanded, his nametag said Arnold Feuer, clearly in charge and eager to establish his authority.
“I get it that one idiot is born every minute, but must we encounter every single one of them?” Al sent through the comms.
Martin tried to explain the situation, but the officers did not give any indication of relenting and letting them through.
“Gentlemen,” Michael said looking at them. “I am sure you were informed that there was a bomb on the premises, hence the reason for the evacuation, but you may not know that it is Biological in nature. Once exposed to it, there is a 99% chance that you will die horribly and in excruciating pain. We are dressed in suits that are going to protect us from it, as is agent Martin. You, on the other hand, will most definitely be infected; those masks on your faces offer zero protection. Now, we have a very short time to deal with it, or it will explode—make your choice, and make it fast.”
Over the comms, he told others that if these idiots did not get out of their way in a few seconds, they should just tranquilize them all.
It would seem that there was a break in communication somewhere down the line; all the officers’ faces became pale, for the first time hearing what they were dealing with.
“I…” The man, whose ID tag identified him as Arnold Feuer, started speaking in a shaky voice. “We didn’t know… you can go through.” He said and then moved to the side.
Michael nodded and proceeded through the lobby. After a few seconds, Al commented, “look at them go,” pointing with his hand towards the entrance. The five security officers were hightailing out of the building as if it was on fire.
It took them no time to find the bomb, Abdul al-Vasir gave them detailed information on what it looked like. It was in a sculpture, part of the open art exhibit from artists all over the world. The tricky thing was that the bomb was essentially part of the optical glass and metal sculpture, inserted there before the art piece was put together. There was no easy way to get to it; Max said that nanites would be able to disable it, but he wasn’t 100% sure that the bomb wouldn’t go off during disassembly.
“Okay, boys, and a girl, we are going to be a little inventive,” Michael said as everyone gathered around the sculpture.
“There is half an hour left on its timer, I suggest to do it faster rather than slower,” Max advised.
The sculpture was mounted on a hollow metal pedestal, like all the others around the great hall, where they were exhibited. Michael took his monomolecular knife and carefully cut out a long rectangular piece, directly under the upper plate of the pedestal, and then went to the other side and repeated the process.
“Al… gently slide the hover-board through the opening,” he said.
Al’s face was a definition of concentration as he gripped the flat device, he previously picked up from that second transporter, and slipped it underneath the sculpture.
After the board was in place, Michael used the knife to completely detach the upper pedestal plate and the sculpture from the base. Max has done the calculations, and the board will be able to sustain the weight of the sculpture for up to five minutes.
Each holding one corner, they slowly pushed it toward the exit.
As soon as they got out of the building, the mass of people started to cheer again. None of them reacted to the sudden noise, they continued to push the sculpture towards the smaller transporter. Once the big mass of glass and steel was inside, they all exited the craft.
“Max, get that thing into space, and aim the transporter towards the Sun… just in case,” Michael said.
They all stood where they were, looking as that transporter lifted towards the sky, carrying within it humanity’s death sentence. As soon as it cleared the Earth’s atmosphere, they all breathed a sigh of relief.
“Agent Martin, we have some gifts for you in our transporter,” Michael said.
“And don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Al quipped. “They were a little damaged during transport.”
It took a few minutes to transfer all of their prisoners collected from several places around the world. They stacked them up in front of agent Martin, who looked a bit stunned at the condition some of them were in.
With quick goodbyes, Michael and the team boarded their transporter, leaving the newly appointed Special Agent in Charge to deal with the situation around the UN Headquarters. Journalists’ were already testing the emergency barriers, shouting questions, while their photographers were developing carpal tunnel syndromes from taking countless photos.
The transporter stopped after reaching an altitude of a few miles.
Michael turned to the others. “I know you are tired and we have been jumping from one continent to another like a freaking Yo-yo. Nonetheless, I cannot just go home and have a cold one, while there are sick people all over the world who need help right now. Our transporter may not make a big difference, but every person we lift to the ISS2 is one more saved life. So… what do you say?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Alice said with a raised eyebrow.
The transporter changed direction towards the nearest location where the infected people were gathered. Maybe their contribution would only be a small decimal place in the end tally, but they were the people who had spent most of their lives working at protecting innocents—that was a hard habit to break.
Max told them that almost all their transporters were in use, with a few big ones serving as mobile hospitals for the worst hotspots where even a trip to the ISS2 would be too long to save them.
‘We’re coming to help.’ He sent a text message to Elizabeth through his CEI, hoping that all their efforts would not be in vain.
