Legacy Of Korr (12 page)

Would they have the power and the conviction to stop the flood? Maybe, maybe not.

All she wanted was another chance for vengeance. A chance to cut the head of the snake and go down in a fiery inferno like the rest of her people.

A while later, Gabriel left and Mara focused on the enhancement process. She’d even shown her assisting officer how the process worked in waves five and six.

Hours passed before her assistant rushed into the hall. “Agent Alex Callahan is here.”

“Good, send him in.”

Alex walked in quick steps, or perhaps enhancing soldiers for half a day made her eyes move slower. After Mara greeted him, she got straight to the point.

“Gabriel mentioned that your agency deals with foreign countries, is that correct?”

“That’s right. What can I do for you?”

Mara walked to the corner of the hall away from the door and the chairs. “Shara is working on the deep-space drives, but she needs a rare mineral.”

“What is it?”

“To finish the stabilization core—the final piece in the drives—we need a small amount of Mendium. Without it, the ship will vibrate violently until it’s destroyed.”

“Can we get you bags of money instead?”

Mara chuckled and clasped her hands. “It was abundant on Korr.”

“How much do you need?”

“A ton is enough for your battleships.”

Alex leaned against the wall. His forehead scowled. “Don’t we need more for the US battleships?”

“Let’s worry about your ships, for now. I learned that small amounts are mined in Africa from fallen meteorites.”

“Yeah in two countries, but one of them is torn by civil war.”

Mara gave him a long look. “I know your country isn’t allies with them, but I don’t want you to kill people to obtain it.”

Alex stared at the soldiers in the chairs. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that.”

*****

December 25, 2030

Noah spun his swivel chair around to face the open window in his new office and rested his chin on his hand which balled into a fist. He took a deep breath and gazed past the small, grass patch at Lake Burley Griffin ahead and Aspen Island to the left.

This place, ASIO, had a strange hold on him. When he walked out years ago, he never thought he’d return. ASIO was full of decent agents, and along with them, Noah did a lot of good. But there were those who backstabbed him, for no reason. It never made sense to him. The harder he tried, and the more assignments he completed, the worse it got.

His agents zoomed in on a twenty square-mile area where the infiltration team received their instructions. And they’re doing a meticulous search through potential agents—himself included—to find out who leaked the information about the aliens’ arrival.

Of course with intelligence agents, black and white melted together to form gray upon gray upon gray. If they traced the contact to a single agent to whom the evidence pointed, Noah would clear him on the spot. Simple answers were a myth in this line of work.

The PM and Matt kept a tight lid on the news. Whoever this mole was, he was a trusted, high-ranking agent. Someone with access and motive and catching him or her wouldn’t be easy.

For once, he had no visitors for the first half of the day. His office was peaceful and tranquil. If it hadn’t been for his agitated mind, Noah would’ve dozed off. Then someone knocked on the door. Noah straightened up and turned his chair around to face the door.

“It’s open.”

Edward, the lead scientist in charge of monitoring the aliens walked in. Noah motioned him to sit down.

Edward cleared his throat. “We mapped the aliens’ bodies, their nervous systems, and their energy cores. I think we understand how their bodies work, and how they interact with the outside world.”

“What did you find out?”

“The flesh, it’s a shell. The active part is the energy component.”

Noah leaned forward. “Aren’t we the same?”

The scientist seemed at a loss of words before he spoke quickly as if someone was about to chase him. “Not in the slightest. We use miniature electric pulses to convey messages and control our bodies. They are energy-based beings, and the flesh is a shell or armor for that being. The energy component is ninety percent of their form.”

“Interesting, you couldn’t tell looking at them.”

“No, you couldn’t. I suggest we think of them as energy based. It’s more accurate than thinking they’re like us.”

Noah sat straighter in his chair. “Fair enough. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Edward said and paused for a while.

“What is it?”

“I’m trying to say, well, we noticed an anomaly in Queen Carilia. The rest are different. Well, she is different from the rest to be accurate.”

Noah leaned forward again. Anomalies were his bread and butter. They were aliens though, what did they expect? Everything about them was a mystery.

“What is the anomaly?”

“Oh, she has two energy cores, not one.”

“Two?”

“Yes, the Queen...”

Alex would show up any second, so he nodded to encourage the scientist to continue faster.

“Unlike her daughters, she has two cores. One core matches the energy profile of her nervous system and her daughters’. The other is different – agitated, unstable. As foreign to the body as a freshman in my graduate radiation class.”

Oh, that great scientific sense of humor.

Noah clasped his hands above the desk. “Could it be an enhancement?”

Edward shook his head as if the mere idea repulsed him. “No, if anything, it slows down her nervous system. Everything is rerouted to it before the normal core. It is killing her.”

Noah scowled. “This will complicate things.”

Edward nodded and covered his mouth with his hand as if it was his fault.

“Ok, focus on this,” Noah said. “Study the second core and see if you can remove it without harming the Queen.”

“Okay.”

Noah smiled. “You’re doing good work, Edward. Keep it up.”

“Thank you,” Edward said and left in a hurry with a wide smile on his face.

A few minutes later, Alex walked into the office. “Good to see you in your office, for a change.”

Noah smiled. He never liked his old office and never thought he’d be back. He’d spent many sleepless nights drinking bad coffee when he had to manage overseas operations.

“What’ve you got?”

“Heaps,” Alex said and sat down. “They’re building the modified airships, and we should have enough for our entire army in less than a year. Also, they’re close to building the first deep-space drive, but they need Mendium to finish it.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it’s not too bad,” Alex said. “Our soldiers were in for a surprise. They expected advanced martial arts training, but it was more sophisticated. Mara, the combat specialist, enhanced the soldiers’ brains.”

“Like what Shara did to you?”

“Yes, but Mara uses ten seats they brought in the Royal Ship to do it.”

This was helpful, and strange. Did they bring the same chairs they used in their world? Or did they custom-make them for humans?

“What is the turnover?” Noah asked.

“A hundred soldiers a day.”

Would the Queen allow them to replicate the equipment? If she agreed, they could build enhancement seats in every boot camp to enhance more soldiers, maybe the entire population. Enhanced soldiers would learn faster and fight harder. In fact, he’d love to have a seat in this building.

Noah netted his hands above his desk. “Can we increase the pace?”

“For the enhanced soldiers, yes. Once Mara trains officers they can take shifts to manage the recruits around the clock. For the ships, no. The facility in WA is running at full capacity. We have to expand it or build a new one.”

At least they had the technology, and they could replicate it with more funding.

“Fair enough. I assume you’re going after the Mendium?”

“Yeah, I brought help from WA.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “I hope you brought enough. Things can escalate quickly in that part of the world.”

“I know.”

“Here,” Noah said and handed Alex a thin file. “I made a call, and I got you this.”

Alex picked up the file, thanked Noah, and left.

Noah relaxed in his seat. Information poured into his head from different sources. In a year, they’d have enough ships for their soldiers, but not enough to face an army that outnumbered them a hundred fold. They’d have enough enhanced soldiers to raise hell on Earth, but it’d only be a speed bump in the way of the giant invasion. They’d have deep-space drives that would get their battleships to outer space and make sure the winner had a planet. They’d have just enough rope to hang themselves.

And, he didn’t forget the anomaly. Why would there be a second energy core in Carilia’s body who happened to be the leader of the survivors? It could be because they’re aliens or because she was their queen.

But his long years in the Agency and his guts told him there was foul play. Which one was it? An enhancement or sabotage? Many variables to consider, but he’d never had a two-year deadline before, and he’d spend every waking minute to make sure Australia came out on top.

All this could wait. Noah had time to sort it out. What couldn’t wait was the mole in the Agency. The Tasman invaders had inside knowledge, and considering the level of confidentiality, the mole had to be high up the ranks.

Noah shook his head, dialed a number, and waited until Jackie’s voice greeted him. “Hey Jackie, I need another favor,” Noah said.

*****

Alex sat down in the airship and tried to stretch his legs as much as the cramped seats allowed him. He’d almost reached the end of his book when the ship arrived near a small town surrounded by forest in Central Africa. The second stop in his one-day journey.

He’d secured half a ton of Medium from South Africa, which would cover half their needs. This operation—if successful—would make sure they had enough for their entire fleet.

Although the government agreed to sell, this area was under the control of a powerful warlord—a seasoned soldier with a large following that warranted a file at the CIA with his name on it. Once again, Noah’s contacts proved invaluable.

Alex opened the file first page and started reading.

A militia killed seven-year-old Nezomba’s family before his eyes and recruited him as a child soldier. They tortured Nezomba, brainwashed him, and taught him to kill in cold blood. Nezomba killed for the first time when he was ten, and when he was twenty, Nezomba killed the man that murdered his family. For fifteen years, he climbed the bloody ladder of power. He killed the leader of the militia to command an army of thousands and become the second most powerful man in the country, second only to the president.

The rest of the file described his mass murders, raids on rival militias, and retaliatory attacks on army camps.

Loud noises below caught his attention. Gunfire surrounded the airship and bullets ricocheted off the airship’s walls. As he’d expected, their presence had lured in the militia. Again, the bullets hit the walls, and the earsplitting sound filled the airship. Aside from scratching the paint, they caused no damage.

Alex closed the file and turned around to his men. “Our mission is simple. We have to get the Mendium. The soldiers beneath us are scouts. Take them out to get the warlord’s attention. If he agrees to supply the Mendium, we turn around. Otherwise, we neutralize him. Do not kill unless you have to and watch out for child soldiers.”

“Easy for you to say, suit,” Chris, an enhanced soldier, said.

Alex tilted his head to the left. Chris was rubbing his gun with a smirk on his face.

“What is that, mate?” Alex asked.

Chris waved his hand toward the window where soldiers surrounded the ship and fired their guns. “If they stick to automatic guns, maybe. But throw in a few rockets, a dozen grenades, and two tanks, and it will be impossible to tell the age or see who’s firing. Wait until you experience your very own slice of hell for the first time and tell me whom we can spare and whom we can waste.”

Oh, the old rivalry between the army and the agency.

“How long have you been a special forces soldier?”

Chris took a deep breath, and his chest enlarged to twice the normal size. “Two years.”

“You must be proud, mate,” Alex said, smiling. “Before I joined the agency, I was a special forces soldier like you. I’d been with the army for five years when you were whining about having no date for the school formal. I tell you what. In three years, we can talk about how hard it was. But today, you follow my orders or stay here and make us coffee. Am I clear?”

Chris glared at Alex before he looked through the window. “Yes, sir.”

In a stark contrast to the shouting and gunfire outside, silence engulfed the airship except for two soldiers smirking at Chris and another giving him a ‘damn, son’ punch.

Alex motioned the soldiers to get ready as their ship descended until it was a few meters off the ground. The side door opened, and one by one, they jumped out.

The militia had given up on damaging the ship with their guns. Three of them brought in rocket launchers.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, Alex dashed to the nearest militia soldier with a rocket launcher. He pushed his palm forward to send the soldier flying back. Alex leaned back to avoid gunfire. His back almost touched the ground. Then he straightened and pushed two more telekinesis waves and took out more soldiers.

Alex spun around to face the soldiers behind him, but they lay on the ground motionless. His team had taken care of them. The militia was no match for the enhanced soldiers.

One scout had been watching the fight from a safe distance. He ran toward a jeep that took off to the nearby town. An enhanced soldier sprinted after the jeep, but Alex motioned him to stop.

“Collect their weapons, and make sure they stay down,” Alex said.

The soldiers collected the militia’s weapons and restricted their movement with immobilizing buttons.

“What now?” A soldier asked.

“We wait.”

The town was a kilometer away, and between the bullets and the live witness, Nezomba knew they were here. Alex gazed at the long trees and greenery everywhere around him. The brisk jungle air and the remote animal sounds made the waiting bearable.

Ten minutes later, at least ten vehicles left the town in a hurry, heading their way. The jeeps were bouncing off the dirt road, stirring up a cloud of dust as they sped to reach the airship location. Before long, they surrounded Alex and his team.

A tall man, with a nasty scar on his right cheek and another on his forehead, climbed out of a jeep. He wore a funky yellow T-shirt, camouflage pants, and a gray scarf around his neck. Alex knew the more colorful the shirt, the higher the rank, so he had to be Nezomba. He walked toward Alex and his men and examined them for a while before he circled them.