Igi
patreon
Book 3 - Chapter 7
🕑 Added 2020-11-08 11:01:18 +0000 UTCAl-Qa'im, Iraq
“Allahu Akbar,” Abdul al-Vasir said to the group of people gathered in his house.
Well, it was now, after the previous owners were disposed of. They dared to have such lavish dwellings when people were living in poverty. He took possession of it because it demonstrated his new status in the world, and because his God has willed it so. The bodies of the merchant family that built it were now nothing more than fertilizer, making the soil along the Euphrates River even more nourishing; they shared the same fate of all others who defied his will. Abdul truly believed that he was God's favorite warrior and that everything he said was inspired by the divine.
That is why he had to fight the impulse to kill the four people that were his guests; they did not acknowledge his connection with God but saw him as a mere mortal man.
“We saw that our warriors were successful in their holy task,” said Ayatollah Mohammad Hussain Sefat, sitting in the place of honor, at the low table.
It was one more thing that irritated Abdul; this man was not an Ayatollah, only called himself that, but so many young men listened to him, hanging on every word. Abdul needed the old man to finish his plan. The self-proclaimed Ayatollah was able to reach those that were not known as supporters of the cause, and they had managed to place the final piece, and the crown of his plan, in one of the most secure places on the planet. That, together with the task his own nephew Amir had to perform right in the center of Great Satan’s power, made him sure that the world would soon be a different place. A place where only the faithful would exist, forever in the comforting grace of God.
“But we are concerned about those that call themselves the Solarian Union; they have interfered and are healing those afflicted. All reports on television are saying that the plague is being contained,” said one of the men who made decisions for Al Qaeda.
Abdul held his tongue, kept in check that impulse to kill all those who dared to question his divine plan. It was always like this; those who claimed to be faithful showed weakness and doubt when some little thing did not go their way.
“You have nothing to worry about,” Abdul replied. “This is all just a beginning, and the real judgment of the infidels will start tonight.”
He told them about the next attack on Washington, D.C. That seems to calm them down, still, he needed more from them.
“Holy Ayatollah, I want to ask you to send a message to the faithful,” he said, looking at the old man. “The Solarians should be attacked at any opportunity. We could not reach them in space, but they are vulnerable now when they descend to Earth to pick up the sick. Suicide bombers, bomb trucks, and assaults should be done whenever they are on the ground. They are nothing but the servants of the Shaitan and those who kill them will be absolved of all sin and admitted to heaven,” Abdul bowed slightly to the sitting old man.
“It will be done,” the man graciously replied, stuffing his face with dried dates.
Now, after the important things were dealt with, he needed to entertain his guest for hours. The best food was prepared and they will gorge themselves at his expense. Abdul could not wait for the world to change, so he would not need to humiliate himself anymore by acting subservient to these people that did not deserve even a minute of his time. That time will come soon, and he could almost feel how important he would become, how much devotion the survivors would bestow upon him.
He looked at the clock and smiled… it wouldn’t be much longer.
***
Transporter 001
Destination: Al-Qa'im, Iraq
Their target was in Al-Qa'im, a small Iraqi town, nearly two hundred fifty miles northwest of Baghdad and very close to the Syrian border. It was actually a nice location, with a population of about 150,000 people.
For years, the town and surrounding region were controlled by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant; they were the law and walked the streets fully armed. Those that were against their brutal rule, or showed any kind of resistance, disappeared under the sands. It was the nature of humanity to adapt, so the remaining population decided to get with the program, and stay alive.
During the trip there, Max gave them the unembellished numbers of the rescue effort. While the operation was working well, and they were managing to stop the spread of the infection—there were fatalities. Five days of incubation period was the average duration, but small children and very old people had much more fragile systems; they were beginning to succumb to the disease. The world news’ were all full of the heartbreaking stories of parents holding their sick children and begging for help. It was a nightmare on a global scale.
The evil genie had been released out of the bottle and there was no way of putting it back inside. There was even a ban on flights from affected areas. Still, several private planes tried to breach the quarantine and were subsequently shot down by their countries of origin, or the ones where they were planning to land. Only humanitarian flights towards those locations were allowed, and only after going through detail checks and full decontamination procedures. The measures were considered draconian by the majority of the people, but the lives of a few privileged individuals were a small price to pay to contain the spread of the contagion.
The S.U. transporters were landing all the time, staying grounded just enough for volunteers to receive the people on the stretchers, that had the least time to live, and immediately returning to space. Thousands of nano-patches were distributed to prolong the lives of the afflicted until they could be cured. Ares kept a careful watch on each one of those, making sure that particular genie would never manage to escape.
Michael looked at his team, sadness and pain could be read on all their faces while they watched the news… except for Alice. Her whole body was clenched, not moving a muscle, looking in front of her with no expression whatsoever. The silent tears were streaming down her face as she watched the latest images of the horror this plague was causing.
***
The town was situated along the Euphrates River, with lots of greenery due to the life-giving waterway. Although, a few miles in either direction, the desert reigned supreme. Quite a striking contrast when one was seeing the whole region from up above.
It did not take them long to find out where the leaders of this entire horror show resided. All they needed to do is search for the most ostentatious and heavily guarded building in the city, and there the culprits were. There was no reason for the leaders to hide since they completely controlled this entire region. Getting to them would be a little trickier since there were armed guards everywhere.
“What are we dealing with here Max?” Michael asked.
“Well, the bad news is that there are more than twenty-five thousand soldiers in the town itself, from different factions of terrorist groups, separated into camps. I don’t think they trust one another too much. The house itself is more of a fortress, but there are only about fifty of them there,” the AI answered.
“Can the tranquilizing mosquitoes take them out?”
The AI’s image shook his head. “I ran a few simulations and the chance of successful neutralization of all targets, without raising an alarm, would be highly unlikely. Those guards around the house are in the field of vision of others who are all around the building—all of them are alert, and they do not use technological means for communication. It seems several bigwigs of different factions are there for some meeting and they have some sort of a truce, but the tensions are high. Moreover, on account of the heat, many are in closed rooms, and they will be very difficult to inject with a tranquilizer. They can see outside and will see their friends falling unconscious; if only one of them fires a gun or sounds the alarm; it would be equivalent to kicking a hornet’s nest. Sorry guys, this one needs to be done in the old-fashioned way.”
Michael looked at the target below, and then at the holographic representation of the building plans, including where all the people were. After a few minutes, he smiled.
“What are you thinking?” Tyron asked, after seeing the expression on Michaels' face.
“Well, I think we need to sneak inside, and then take a page out of Cesar’s playbook—divide and conquer.”
It did not take long for them to implement Michael’s plan since it was quite a simple one. One of the new gizmos Max made was a gravity harness. It did the same thing as a parachute, except the landing was far more controlled. It had the energy for one use before it needed to be recharged, but one time was all they needed. The infiltration was not the problem, but the extraction would certainly be. Their camouflage would make getting into the building a piece of cake; taking the captives out of it would be noticed, so they needed a distraction.
Therefore, Max had sent a number of specialized drones from the Ascension while they prepared themselves for the mission, and they were quite unusual. They had the same camouflage technology built into them, with another addition, a set of strong directional speakers.
They jumped from high above the property, all within a few seconds of each other, and manipulated the harness controls to gently take them towards the flat roof of the house. Two guards were sitting there, smoking cigarettes, and talking. While still a few feet above the roof, both Michael and Tyron fired at the same moment, using subsonic rounds, and the guards died where they were sitting, while their last cigarettes were still smoldering. Pete and Al landed behind them, making hardly any sound, then hurried up and arranged the dead bodies so it would appear if they were still sitting, in case someone looked in their direction.
The house had four floors, and their targets were on the third. The latest scans done by the satellite revealed that there were eight guards plus five servants between them, and another twenty guards on the first and second floor, with twenty more around the house itself. If Michael’s plan worked, except those eight, all others will be none the wiser.
The first two were close to the stairs that lead to the roof, and they were promptly dispatched, acquiring new holes in their heads in quick succession. The second set of guards that guarded the stairs to the floor below had the same fate.
The team moved slowly, not making much noise, but knowing where their opponents were felt like a cheat. Even so, this was one cheat they were more than happy to exploit.
They repeated the same tactics on the next floor, and were quickly getting closer to their goal; their invisibility and advanced weapons made all the difference in the world.
Satellite imagery constantly updated the position of the guards, and they knew that the next thing would be a little trickier. Four guards were in front of the room they wanted to get into, but there were also five servants that they did not want to kill, no matter who their employers were.
“Pete, start on the servants, while we deal with the guards,” Michael sent over the comms.
On a count of three, they all opened fire; Pete with tranquilizers, and the others with subsonic flechette rounds. It was perfectly executed and in a couple of seconds, everyone was lying on the floor. Their choice of profession, and how they lead their lives, decided if their hearts still beat or not.
There was no time to waste, since the falling bodies most likely alerted those inside the room that something was not right, so Michael hurried towards them and pressed the handle, hoping that with so many guards it would not be locked. He was right, the doors opened and Tyron and he entered the room.
As per satellite images, there were five people in the opulent room. Sitting on the floor, around the low table that had all kinds of Middle-Eastern delicacies spread on top of it. They were involved in a heated conversation, unaware of what was happening.
As Al said, if this was a movie, it would be a perfect time to say something cool, but that would be beyond idiocy. He immediately started shooting at them, tranquilizer settings already chosen on his weapon. A split-second later, Tyron joined him until everyone at that table was unconscious.
“Max?” Michael sent through his implant.
“You are OK, the rest of the guards’ didn’t hear anything, but you better hurry, the guard shift is changing in a few minutes.”
“Boys, let’s load up, and get out of here.”
Tyron and Michael picked up two people each, and Al got the fifth. Pete was following them with his gun ready, making sure they would not be surprised from behind.
“All right Max, start the show,” said Michael, as they were coming close to the roof exit.
This was the dangerous part of the plan, not so much for them, but for the prizes they were carrying. To get to the transporter they needed to cross a fair distance on the roof, and it was visible from a few buildings around it. Their cargo didn't have any camouflage, and those buildings were filled with terrorists. If they saw the weird scene of floating bodies, there was a good chance that they would start shooting in their direction, and then the whole purpose of this mission would be jeopardized.
Those drones with the speakers, Max strategically placed before, started issuing orders to different groups of terrorists. Telling them that they have been betrayed by the opposite group, and to kill the traitors. Speakers used the audio effect of the sounds of automatic weapons to simulate the attacks, which was supplemented by Alice, whose job was to take a few commanders down with her sniper rifle, which considerably increased the chaos.
Max was right on the ball when he used a hornet's nest analogy, the entire area was an instant war zone; one group of terrorists shooting at another, and even causing a good amount of friendly fire. It was the perfect fog of war, where it was each man for himself.
Michael and the others waited for all the lookouts to clear, and boarded the transporter with their precious cargo. It lifted silently into the air, taking with them the very thing thousands of armed men in that town were trying to guard.
