Chapter 26

 

TWENTY-SIX

Dennings leaned back in his chair and threw his feet up on the table, flicking open his comic book.

Another boring day in paradise he thought to himself as he tried to remember if he was supposed to read left to right, or right to left. The air conditioner hummed as it tried in vain to keep the humid air at a reasonable temperature. The jungle around them however was winning the war on the few comforts they had.

Jeff Denning’s job for the day was to watch the compound’s external sensors for the afternoon, one of the rotational positions at their safehouse nestled deep within the Chopinburg Rainforest in Usea.
Officially, the location was not on any map, nor did Osea have any records of the small facility, one of the many secrets Basilisk was afforded for their efforts.

 

There was a small annunciator light that illuminated on the desk that caught the Corporals attention. Sitting up in his chair he could see the close in radar had picked up air traffic movement. Due to their location, it was extremely rare that anyone would blunder near the compound, and even if they did, it would look like any of the countless dozen uncharted structures within the jungle.

 

Another annunciator light flashed, Dennings flicked on the radar scope and watched the target inch closer.

“Come on… turn around.” He muttered to himself as he watched the dot pass a grease pen mark 15 Miles, and it was headed straight for the compound. Dennings grabbed his radio.

“Lieutenant, we got. Something inbound.” He reported.

“Any idea what it is?” Lieutenant Fick’s voice crackled over the radio.

Dennings jotted down times to get a rough speed calculation, and cross referenced to a notebook lying on the desk. He didn’t like the large list of helicopters he saw, many holding military designations alongside the occasional civilian model.

“Uhh, Negative Lieutenant, a bit too fast to be an Aero med or civilian. Definitely military hardware we’re dealing with.” He replied.

There was a pause.

“Understood. Any idea if they’re just passing through?” He asked hopefully.

Dennings looked back at the radar screen. The target held its course true towards their position.

“Doesn’t look like it boss. They’re heading straight towards us. ETA four or so minutes” He replied.

“Alright everyone, get your gear and prepare for visitors.” Fick ordered over the radio. There was a collection of clicks over the radio in acknowledgement from the other Basilisk marines.

“Hey ElTee, I have the Stinger ready.” Adams reported.

“Zhao, do you have any visual on the unknown?” Fick ordered,

“Yeah, Military, CH-53 by the looks of it. Almost looks like-“ Zhao paused. “-Ah hell. It’s that Belkan bitch.”

***
The Broker looked out one of the windows of the large CH-53 Stallion helicopter as it made its way low over the treetops of Chopinburg. It had been almost non-stop flying for the previous eight hours between a C-2 Greyhound flight into Axel Bay for the Helicopter ride deep into Chopinburg for the meeting. The vibration the helicopter made bothered him intensely, it was a long list of reasons he had never had any interest in them as opposed to planes.

Fifty thousand moving parts around an oil leak. He reminded himself.

The crew chief of the helicopter tapped the Broker on his knee.

“One minute!” He yelled in a heavily accented voice as he made his way towards the cargo door of the helicopter. Pressing a button on the side of the cargo bay, the rear door opened with a hiss before falling down. The Broker was able to take a good look at the compound below him. Atop a hill sat a large wood cabin surrounded by smaller Conex buildings, and a quarter mile down the hill was a flat spot dug out as a small airfield, with a long dirt runway and a small aluminum shelter at one end.

the Crew chief stuck his head out and talked the pilot onto the ground, large plumes of dust were thrown out in the rotor wash until the Helicopter lurched and stopped as the wheels touched the ground. The Crew Chief turned back and held a thumbs up.

The Broker stepped onto the strip and looked around; he could feel eyes on him immediately. He keyed his throat mic. “So, David, where are they?” He asked, not allowing his voice to betray any emotion.

 

“there’s two in the brush in front of us, probably to kill the crew, another in a watch tower and two more in cover” David replied calmly. “Got it, no quick movements.” The Broker said, holding up his hands and stepping out further into the light. He stopped his walk halfway between the helicopter and a path up the hill.

“So, do I need to ring a doorbell or what?” the Broker shouted over the helicopter as it’s rotors spun down.

A single man stepped out from cover, holding an HK-416 on him. “Boss!” David shouted.

“Not now!” The Broker hissed. He didn’t look, but was sure David’s MP7 was trained on the closest armed man.

“Who are you and what do you want?” The rifleman interrogated. The Broker studied him for a moment, he was of average build, older, bald, and while he couldn’t see the man’s eyes due to sunglasses, he had a good guess of who he was.

“Calm down Sergeant Morgan, I just need to speak with Lieutenant Fick.” The Broker said passively.

To his slight surprise, the rifleman showed no emotion and kept the rifle pointed at him. “Sorry, No one by that name here, I suggest you leave.” He replied forcefully.

 

“Oh, I highly doubt that Sergeant. Not many Osean special forces bases around these parts.” The Broker grinned.

 

“Alright, who the hell are you?” another man barked, stepping out from his cover. Slightly taller, younger and with dark hair.

“Ah, Nathan, finally you come out to meet me! Is that any way to treat a guest?” The Broker said jovially, Truthfully, he had never met Osean Marine Lieutenant Fick, but had already amassed a dossier on all the men present months prior.

The Lieutenant hesitated quickly before speaking “Ok, you clearly know something. So, are you OIA?”

“Oh, nothing so pedestrian. Is there somewhere private you and I can talk?” The Broker said changing the subject.

“Out here works fine by me.” Fick replied coldly. The Broker rolled his eyes at the defiance. “Why can’t anyone just take my word that I’m here to help? If you’re really that hard up about it, call the Old Man, he knows about this little get together we’re having.”

“How do you-” Fick’s voiced trailed off confused.

“Know that? It’s kind of my thing. And believe me, I could fill novels with the stuff you don’t even know about Basilisk Lieutenant. I suggest we get somewhere where its cooler to talk, and while we’re on the subject, I suggest you call your men off. Adams, Dennings, and Zhao I believe?” The Broker said tilting his head slightly.

 

The Lieutenant thought for a moment, “Fine, let me make a call first.”

“By all means; do you want his work phone or his personal?” The Broker offered.  

***
Dennings sat in the brush and watched a man in a white suit and dark sunglasses exit the back of the cargo helicopter.

“Who do you think he’s talking to?” Dennings asked Zhao. The two had quickly concealed themselves just off the edge of the runway, he kept his red dot trained on the female pilot as her hands darted across the instrument panels in the cockpit.

“Who knows? Who cares?” Zhao replied.

The two men watched as the suited man was intercepted, first by Morgan, and then by the Lieutenant.

“I mean, might be nice to know who the hell’s bodies we’re gonna have to dispose of later.” Dennings said pragmatically.

“Do you ever shut up?” Zhao asked.

“Spoil sport.”

“Moron.”

Dennings could see Fick pull out his phone, He could see the Lieutenant get briefly animated to the caller before he reached for his radio.

“All Servants, stand down” Fick ordered over the radio.

Dennings gave an unsure look to Zhao and shrugged, both men stood up from their concealment and walked past the Helicopter to Morgan.

“Whats the story?” Zhao asked Morgan. “No idea. The Lieutenant is talking with the Old Man now. Sounds like this guy is the one whose been feeding us intel on these last few missions.

“Nice. Any idea what the Belkan chick has to do with it?” Dennings asked.

“No clue. She didn’t drop us off here last time, so I doubt she knew about this place.” Morgan replied.

“I didn’t” A female voice said behind the men. They turned to see the Stallions pilot. She stood at a hair over five foot two, her dirty blond hair tied back in a ponytail, behind her aviator glasses were intense green eyes. Her once porcelain skin had been tanned and weathered from years flying. As a result, she looked slightly older than her chronologically younger age.

“Ah, Lauren, pleasure as always.” Zhao said mockingly.

“Shove it up your ass Tom. Believe me I’d be anywhere but dealing with you right about now.” The woman griped.

“likewise.” Zhao growled under his breath. “Jesus, are you two always like that?” Dennings asked.

“Only when Tom decides to act like a prick.” Lauren replied quickly.

“Just ignore them.” Morgan said laconically. There was a rustling coming from the path as Adams stumbled his way down the dirt.

“Hey.” Adams said winded,

“Wow. We don’t see each other for a few days and ‘Hey’ is all I get? I’m hurt.” Lauren said flirtatiously.

“Yeah, fine, whatever. You’re married, I don’t hit on married women.” Adams shot back, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Plus, your husband is scary and looking right at us.” Dennings chimed in.

“Oh, you worry too much, Ben is a teddy bear. You know that.” Lauren said dismissively.

“He’s a fucking giant and has a machine gun… I’m not filled with confidence” Dennings replied, turning his attention back to the Helicopter. He could see the massive form of the helicopters co-pilot looming in the shade of the cargo bay.

Fick hung up the phone and walked towards the group of Marines.

“Whats the story Lieutenant?” Morgan asked.

Fick rubbed his temples, shaking his head. “It appears we’re currently on loan to this guy. I’m not privy to all the details but the Old Man vouches for him, and we’re to let this guy call the shots tonight.” Fick explained.

“And with that out of the way –“ The White suited man spoke up “-Lauren I will need you to come with me and Fick here, we have a few things to iron out before tonight. Oh, and one last thing, you guys have a grill right?” The man asked.

“Yeah… why?” Zhao replied.

The interloper grinned and made a sharp whistle “David! Get the coolers!” He barked towards the helicopter. “I’m not that much of a rude house guest to not bring some gifts.” He said to the Marines.

Moments later the Helicopters co-pilot, crew chief and a second passenger disembarked carrying three large plastic coolers, setting them down in front of the Marines. 

“I hope you didn’t mind but, we couldn’t get any imports.” The second passenger said apologetically opening up his cooler.

The four Marines leaned forward to get a look at the contents.

“Well free beer is good beer.” Adams quipped.

***
The interior of the Helicopter rattled incessantly around Morgan. It had been a handful of hours since the Belkans had arrived, and after the Lieutenant had disappeared with the pilot and the interloper, The Marines had cautiously joined the Helicopters crew in a small cookout using the steaks and beers they had brought along as peace offerings. During the meal with the interlopers, he had studied them all closely.

To Morgans eye, he could tell the Helicopters crew chief and co-pilot were both prior Military, though the way they held themselves told him that they were likely nothing more than a regular transport unit instead within any specialized transport commands. The third man however concerned him. ‘David’ as he introduced himself to the Marines had an aura much like their own, and even as he laughed and joked with the Oseans, his presence made Morgans hair stand on end. What bothered him more was how he was unable to pinpoint the man’s origins. That occupied the Sergeants mind more than the relative lack of information the Lieutenant had returned with before delegating orders.

After the festivities had subsided, The Marines had gathered their gear with the understanding that it would be mostly a bodyguard style of mission to extract a VIP from an Airbase. With that information, the Marines had donned their body armor, and all had grabbed the same weapons from the armory.

on the webbing of each Marine was two flashbang grenades, a Glock 21 handgun, two spare magazines of 45 ACP, the Bushmaster ACR as well as three thirty round STANAG magazines. Unlike their standard use of the HK-416 and USP for rifle and handgun respectively, due to the unspecified nature of any hostile forces they may encounter the ACR and Glock were both untraceable to any official Osean Military units, and their visibility would make the members of Basilisk look closer to bodyguards or contractors than Special Forces. As well, tucked away in a soft case next to Morgan’s boot was an AR-10 he had modified with a Zeiss optic as a simple designated marksman rifle.

The Turbine engine surged briefly before returning to a normal hum, briefly catching Morgan’s attention.

It had been a three-hour flight via the helicopter from their base of operations in Chopinburg to a small civil airport outside of Axel Bay. There, the helicopter was refueled with an overly nosey ground service crew, mostly consisting of awestruck teenagers at the large military helicopter and attractive pilot, as well as taking on three more Basilisk Marines. Sergeants Haver and Kyle, as well as Petty Officer Hernandez, a Corpsman. All formerly attached to Saber before Colonel Mancuso had reassigned them to Lieutenant Fick’s team.

On the ground after the normal greetings, Hernandez pulled Morgan aside.

The younger Hispanic man looked over his shoulder before speaking “What the hell is this shit about? One second we’re on our way back to Oured, the next Norris tells us we have to now kick it in that shit hole jungle with you guys!” he hissed.

Morgan shrugged “Don’t really know what to say other than that it’s an extraction of some kind. Don’t know who or where from” he replied.

Hernandez rolled his eyes “Great. And I thought that op into Cape Rainy was poorly planned.” 

 

The Helicopter jolted once again Briefly, the man who had spoken with the Lieutenant at the start exited the cockpit and walked over to Lieutenant Fick, yelling something into his ear and thrusted a manilla folder into the officer’s hands before disappearing back into the cockpit. Morgan watched as the Lieutenants face twisted in disdain as he read the documents. After reviewing them, he stood up and keyed his throat radio.

“Listen up” He started, getting the Marines attention. “We finally have our marching orders. The plan is to conduct a simple VIP extraction from McKnight Airbase. Local opposition is expected to be minimal but well trained. The Goal of this mission is to extract the VIP without any fighting. We will be inserting via Helo just outside of the airbase and friendly forces in the area will take us by ground transportation will get us into the Base and to the location the VIP is at.”

Adams raised his hand “Isn’t McKnight Osean?”

Fick nodded his head “That it is. Unfortunately, due to the nature of the VIP, we can’t just fly in under normal circumstances. As well, we have to assume that our countrymen will be hostile if they figure out why we’re there.”

“Whats the story on us being there then?” Dennings asked.

“We will be members of the Air Defense Force Office of Special Investigations looking into the Erusean Prototype that was found on base a few days ago.” Fick replied

“So then what is our actual reason for being there? If the Osean’s don’t like him, why the hell should we?” Sergeant Kyle interrogated.

“Old Man’s orders. For whatever reason McKnight doesn’t want Osea to know that they have the VIP and are being pretty damn quiet about anything relating to them. The Colonel took exception to that and that why we’re involved.” Fick explained.

Kyle and a few of the other marines nodded.

“What if shooting does break out?” Haver asked.

“Well in that case, the mission will have failed and at that point we do what we must. I don’t want to leave a pile of dead Oseans but I much rather have it be them than any of us. Is that understood?” Fick said.

It was a silent understanding that was said. The rest of the Helicopter flight into Erusea was silent.

***
It was the early morning hours when they had finally arrived outside of Dennis. The Helicopter landed in a small, abandoned farmers field, and awaiting them was two suburban trucks and three men.

The tallest man Morgan could tell was a Yuktobanian, and despite his large brutish stature, the way he had conducted himself around the Marines as they disembarked spoke volumes about his training. He was the kind of man Morgan had expected to have fought and killed during the Circum-Pacific War, a member of the mythical Yuktobanian Spetsnaz.

The shortest man however, who introduced himself as Cal, had the aura of previous law enforcement training instead of military. His movements were not as cautious as someone who would be in a warzone constantly, and his voice seemed to carry much further than necessary to speak.

The final man however surprised Morgan even. For starters he was wearing a disheveled Osean airman uniform. Much like his uniform, he looked haggard and beaten. There were specks of blood staining his tan t-shirt and blouse and Morgan could tell he was not present under his own free will.  His rank denoted an Air Defense Force Staff Sergeant, and his nametape read PERRAULTA. The man looked terrified when Morgan walked up.

“Whats his story?” he asked the Yuketobanian.

The Osean airman’s eyes lit up “Your Oseans?!” He asked excitedly before receiving a smack to the back of the head from the Yuke.

“Your friend here is the one going to guide us to your target. He has said more than enough for tonight.” The Yuketobanian replied in a harsh accent.

Morgan nodded. The Airman was visibly shaking after the hit, and he looked very attentively towards the ground after the Marines paid him no attention.

 

The man who had been speaking with the Lieutenant and who had requested to be called ‘The Broker’, who continued to wear his sunglasses despite the early hours, spoke briefly with Cal and then the Lieutenant. After which the Lieutenant made a sharp whistle.

“Listen up. We will be going in two Vehicles. Ivan, The Broker, our guide, Haver, Morgan, Hernandez, and Myself. Gear and everyone else riding in Vehicle two. Move out.” Fick barked.

The Marines quickly and silently climbed into their vehicles. The Guide, the terrified Osean Airman, sat crushed between Morgan and the Yuketobanian named Ivan in the middle row, while Lieutenant Fick and The Broker sat in the Drivers seat and Haver and Hernandez sat in the rear. The Lieutenant turned the ignition and a harsh rock and roll music blared over the radio. Morgan smirked at seeing the Brokers disdain as he turned the radio to a low volume and started scanning the stations for other music.

“Goddammit Ivan, how many times do I have to tell you? None of your death metal shit when I’m in the car.” The Broker chastised, the Yuketobanian grunted in response.

The Two cars moved silently through the wooded dirt roads until hitting a dormant highway leading towards the airbase. The streetlights made the interior of the vehicle flash in a hazy dull orange as they made their way towards the airbase. Morgan kept his eyes out on his side of the vehicle, as he could hear the Lieutenant softly singing along to the radio.

After a twenty-minute drive, the two-vehicle convoy arrived at a side gate to the Airbase.

Two exhausted looking gate guards exited the guard shack and approached the vehicle, M4 rifles slung across their chest. One guard motioned for the Lieutenant to roll down his window while the other scanned the vehicle for explosives.

“May I see your ID please?” The guard asked.

Before the Lieutenant could reply, the Broker pulled out a stack of papers and handed them over.

“Yeah here, no problem.” He said smiling.

The Guard slightly taken aback took the papers and read through them.

 

He nodded and keyed his radio. After a moment he handed the papers back.

” Alright, Agent Baxter, You and your men are cleared through. Have a nice day.” The guard replied. A hint of confusion in his voice, he took a step back and lifted the gate, waiving the two vehicles through.

“That was easy.” The Broker said.

“How did you get them to buy that?” Fick asked.

“Easy, the actual Baxter is supposed to be here in a few hours.” The Broker replied.  

“Ok so where is this place?” Fick asked.

 

Morgan could feel the Airman jump into him as he was jabbed in the ribs painfully by Ivan. “Talk.” The Yuketobanian ordered.

“Hangar F-3, just across the runways.” He replied weekly.

“Nice and secluded.” mused Haver.

“That’s why we picked it. An Airstrike took out the taxiway which is why the Eruseans abandoned that part of the airfield. And even SecFo doesn’t go out that way.” Replied Perraulta.

 

After another moment, the headlights illuminated the front of the hardened shelter. A weathered sign reading F3 adorned the top of the heavy steel door.

Fick put the SUV in park and hopped out of the vehicle, Perraulta being dragged by Ivan by his neck.

Morgan scanned the immediate surroundings. From inside the hangar there was a dull noise of people talking and shouting, aside from that this section of the airport was dark and dead quiet in the early morning hours.

 

“Car two is on security, Car One we’re going in.” the Broker ordered. Silently Ivan marched Perraulta to a small door in the Hangar, behind him the Marines took up positions to breach the room.

“Will they be armed?” growled Fick.

Perraulta shook his head “Nah, Or at least probably not.”

Fick Nodded to Haver who tapped a pouch on his vest.

“How many on the inside?” Fick interrogated.

“Not a fuckin- ouch!” Perraulta yelped in pain as Ivan hit him in the back of the head. Shaking off the blow he replied, “dozen maybe.”

Fick thought for a moment. “Haver, take point.” He ordered.

“Got it Eltee” the large cowboy replied. “Little piggy, little piggy, let me in.” he whispered, guiding Perraulta to the door away from Ivan.

 

The Sergeant gulped and took a deep breath before banging on the steel door three times. The noise on the other side of the door subdued.

“Whose there” a voice on the other side of the door shouted.  

“Yo its Perraulta, open up!” the Sergeant yelled.

“Perraulta? Yo man, where the fuck have you been?” the voice inquired.

Perraulta hesitated for a moment. “It’s a long story, Dude can you just open up the goddamn door?”

“Yeah fine. You better have brought something good for missing work today.” The locks unclicked.

 The door opened slightly, before forcefully being kicked open by Haver.

“Yo man! What the Fuck!” the dazed Airman behind the door hissed, stopping the moment he noticed the rifle barrel trained on him.

Haver grinned “Well you’ll have to excuse us for not being the pizza guy.” He taunted, crossing the threshold.

Hearing the commotion, the dozen Oseans in the center of the hangar turned to look in surprise at the armed Marines intruding.

Morgan stepped through the doorway and quickly took a firing position in the corner to support Haver.

Haver cleared his throat and lowered his rifle off his shoulder “Ok, Now I’m going to need you all to listed to the heavily armed gentleman in the front of the room-” he was interrupted as one Osean broke off and attempted to throw a wild haymaker towards him. Haver quickly sidestepped the airman and brought the butt of the ACR down across his back, sending him crumpling into the floor.

“-As I was saying. Hands on the far wall over there and you best be looking very attentively at yer own belly buttons. We’re just coming to collect something and we’ll be out of your hair.” Haver barked.

“Do you know who this is?” One of the Oseans shouted.

Fick interjected “No and we don’t much care to. Now move it!” he barked.

“Four, make sure they do nothing stupid, Three, help Doc with whatever he needs.” Fick ordered.

“Righto.” Haver acknowledged, waiving the Oseans to the far wall of the hangar. Morgan nodded silently as he ran over to the thing in the center of the room, quickly followed by Hernandez.

 

Morgans first thought at the sight of it was that it was a side of beef that had been left to rot for more than a few days. The stench however was not that of decaying cattle but was far more human. In the center of the room in a pool of blood and excreta was certainly a person. He had been beaten to a pulp, and from the injuries, Morgan wasn’t sure if he was still alive.

He had been chained to the floor and the Handcuffs had been tightened and caked with blood. Without prompting from Hernandez, Morgan fished a handcuff key from a pocket in his pants and offered it to the Corpsman.

Out of the corner of his eye, Morgan could see the Broker pacing the perimeter of the pool of waste. He looked visibly pitiful instead of disgusted at the sight.

 

Hernandez freed the broken man from his shakles and rolled him onto his back.

“Is this the man?” He asked the Broker.

Gingerly stepping to get a closer look the Broker took off his dark sunglasses.

“Hard to tell. Looks like shit, but then again, he always did look like shit. Let’s get him out of here.” He replied matter-of-factly.

“Is he even alive?” Morgan blurted out.

Hernandez nodded grimly. “Barely. We have to get him to a hospital fast. Im sure the base has the facilities to at least stabilize him.”

“Not an option.” The Broker dismissed.

Hernandez squinted his eyes in disbelief “Fine. Farbanti is close by, they have a level two trauma-“

“No, get him stabilized enough and we will take him to Selatapura. I have people who can work on him there.”

Hernandez held out his arms in disbelief “Are you fucking kidding me? This man might not even survive the ride to the end of the block, let alone two hundred miles!” He hissed.

The Broker closed the distance and put a hand on the Corpsman’s shoulder. “Just get him stable. Let me handle the rest.” He replied bluntly.

“This is insane! Sir!” Hernandez protested.

Fick shook his head sadly. “He’s calling the shots. If anything happens to the VIP it won’t be on you Doc. Now do your best so we can get out of here.”

Hernandez shook his head in disgust and got to work. With Morgans help they had prepared their newly found patient for transportation within minutes.

“Ok, We’re ready to go.” Hernandez reported.

Fick keyed his radio “Grail is filled, We’re Oscar mike.”

As Morgan and Zhao gently lifted the litter across the hangar threshold and into the back of the awaiting suburban.

The Broker was already sitting in the front seat of the car with David in the Drivers seat.

“Morgan and Hernandez stay here with the patient. Everyone else in vehicle two.” He ordered.

“Tight fit.” grunted Zhao as he finished sliding the patient onto the lowered back seat.

Within seconds of the door closing behind Morgan, the car had started screaming towards the main road of the Airbase. David had turned on flashing blue and red lights as he hit breakneck speeds down the streets of the base that had only just started to wake up and start its day. Morgan could see the first hues of orange creeping up on the Horizon.

“David, we called Security Forces out to that hangar, right?” The Broker asked distracted.

“Yes sir, Lauren has also finished dressing up the Helicopter and Greene is ready as well.” David reported.  

“Good.”

 

The Suburban bounced briefly as it shot through the main gate of the base and onto an Erusean Highway. It took what seemed like seconds for them to reach the abandoned farm they had landed at.

Morgan could see through the windshield a large cloud of dust from the running Helicopter.

David Parked the car and hit the opening on the rear hatch, with Morgans help, they loaded their patient into the back of the Helicopter and had taken off, leaving the rest of Basilisk behind.

Morgan, after seeing that Hernandez didn’t need any help with their patient, walked over to the Broker.

“What about everyone else?” Morgan demanded.

“I’ve arranged alternate accommodations for them. Don’t worry, you all are ghosts in this. We just need to get him-“ The Broker jabbed his thumb towards the man Hernandez was tending to “-to a Hospital in less time than it would have taken for the entire team to get exfil.”

Morgan nodded “He better be worth it then.”

“Believe me. He is.” The Broker replied.

***
Lauren flipped up her helmets visor and rubbed her tired eyes. It was one of the longest flights in her career flying the Super Stallion, and all she was looking forward to was getting home and more importantly, getting paid. The Morning sun blazed annoyingly out of the corner of her eye.

“Ben, wie weit sind wir von Selatapuras entfernt ADIZ?”Ben, How far out are we from Selatapuras ADIZ? She asked.

“etwa vier Meilen.” About four miles. He husband replied in a monotone. He had been intently listening to their air to air radio’s Guard frequency for the past ten miles.

“noch nichts?” Anything yet? Lauren asked. “Nein, aber ich erwarte bald.” No, but I expect soon. He replied.

Lauren looked to the DME on the panel, tuned to the Selatapura VORTAC located outside of the city, she had jotted down on the way that the Air Defense Identification Zone, or ADIZ, that had been erected around the Space Elevator would be DME 40 from the VORTAC. The ADIZ starting at Thirty miles from the Elevator and extending out in a perfect ring.

 “On Guard, This is Osean AWACS Skycatcher, Be advised you are entering the Selatapura ADIZ, take up heading of Three-six-zero.” The radio crackled to life.

Lauren jumped on the microphone first. “Skycatcher, this is Medevac 65453, Inbound to Harling Regional Medical Center.”

“Medivac 453, we don’t have you on any records. Standby” Skycatcher replied confused.

“Well duh, Dumbass.” Lauren muttered to herself. Her Husband smirking at the remark.

“Medivac 453, Maintain present altitude, take up heading one six zero, prepare to be intercepted. Two F-16’s will escort you into the city.” Skycatcher instructed.

“Medivac 453, heading one-six-zero, ready for the escort.” Lauren replied.

She gently banked the large helicopter towards the skyline of the city.  After flying their assigned course and heading, Ben silently put a finger out onto the windshield, “Ein, und Zwie” One and two, He counted as two black dots shot past the helicopter.

 

“Are we being intercepted!?” Shouted the Broker, poking his head into the cockpit.

“Looks like. Standard procedure. Just got to smile, wave, and hope they don’t figure out that this is technically a war crime.” Lauren replied.

She looked out her starboard window to see an Osean F-16 slowly creeping its way abeam the Helicopter, its nose at a high angle to maintain the slow pace with the Stallion.

“On Guard, Aircraft intercepted by a F-16 armed Air Defense Fighter. You have been intercepted. Maintain present heading, we will escort you to the Hospital. Flash your navigation lights in acknowledgement.” The Fighter pilot instructed.

Without needing to be directed, Ben leaned over and flashed the navigation lights onboard, goofily waiving to the fighter jet as he did.

“Skycatcher, Mage Three, be advised, TOI is a type appears to be a CH-53.” The Pilot said.

 There was a pause.

Schiesse Lauren thought to herself.

“Medivac 453, Confirm type aircraft.” Skycatcher interrogated.

“Medivac 453 is type Sikorsky 53” Lauren replied over the radio.

“Great, we’re going to have to make up yet another fake registration number after this… you know how expensive that’s going to be?” Lauren complained. “How far out are we?” She asked Ben again.

“Ten miles to the hospital.” He replied without missing a beat.

The Helicopter, escorted by the fighters, started its descent into the city proper. Lauren leaned over her shoulder “Everyone, Three minutes to touchdown!” She shouted into the intercom, her Crew chief and their passengers quickly getting themselves ready to offload the medical patient they were transporting.

“Skycatcher All Players, TOI 1 is good to land at the Hospital, Break; Mage 3, continue to Monitor TOI 1 track number AD221” the AWACS instructed.

“Mage 3 copied, to Monitor AD221” the F-16 pilot replied, lowering the nose, and increasing his speed to break off the escort from the helicopter.

Lauren Nodded to Ben and had them switch to the Hospitals local frequency, “Harling, this is Medivac 65453, Patient inbound, two minutes.” She called over the radio.

***

The Hospital helipad doors flew open, a blue clad flight paramedic rolled a patient in on a stretcher.

“Twenty-four-year-old male, looks to be internal hemorrhaging along with multiple fractures.” The paramedic whose white nametag read C. HERNANDEZ reported. “Whats the story then?” The surgeon asked as he guided the patient through the crowded hospital corridors.

“Car accident in the hills, our boy here took a curve to fast and-“ Hernandez clasped one hand in the other for effect.

“Medications given?” “Morphine along with TXA.” The Surgeon nodded “Well let’s see what we can do for him.”

***
Morgan leaned back on the wall and folded his arms behind his head in the private waiting room, shifting uncomfortably in the navy-blue flight suit he had been ordered to change into on the flight from McKnight to Selatapura. What Morgan hadn’t noticed was the Helicopter’s additional markings that the crew had added. Bright Red and white crosses and the crew had also changed into the blue flight suits from their regular olive green to complete the ruse.

Morgan studied the Broker as he paced the room back and forth.

“Aren’t you worried someone’s going to talk?” Morgan spoke up, breaking the silence. “To who? To them he is Mister John Doe, and his care is being funded through a shell corporation.”

“Yeah, but it’s not everyday that you see a floor of a premier hospital in one of the most important cities on the planet, get shuttered for one guy, after he’s dropped off in an ex-military CH-53. Unless he’s patient zero for something you’re not telling us about.”

“Im not worried, we’ll be long-gone before anyone can connect the dots.” The Broker said, ignoring the comment.

“So, what’s his deal anyways? I mean its not the first mission I’ve gone against Osean military but generally its for a good reason of the world-ending variety. What makes him so different?” Morgan inquired.

The Broker furrowed his brow. “You’re certainly feeling chatty today, aren’t you Morgan? Nothing like your psych profile. But I digress; That man is a hero, and we all owe him almost everything for the number of times he pulled out asses out of the fire.”

“How very idealistic, but you’ll excuse me if I think that’s just a load of horseshit.”

The Broker shrugged “You wouldn’t believe me if I don’t you.”

***
The Surgeon stepped into the room.

“First off, I want to report that the surgery was a success.” He said reassuringly.

“Any lasting damage?” The Broker asked, causing the doctor to raise an eyebrow.

“He coded on us twice. He had already lost a lot of blood by the time he got here, and that hemorrhaging was worse than we had anticipated. Add in a ruptured kidney and multiple bruised organs, I’d say your boy is lucky to be alive.” The Doctor explained.

“Any Idea when he will be ready to be moved?” The Broker asked urgently to the dismay of the Doctor. “Of course, I would advise you to leave him here overnight for observation, but given your circumstances, I can have him packaged and stable in a few more hours.”

“Thank you, Doctor Greene; That should be all.” The Broker replied dismissing the surgeon.