Chinook Lima-Six Serpent Four
In Flight
Undisclosed Location SECRET (OMAHA)
New Mexico, United States of America
27 September, 1991
0945
I had the Geiger counter in my lap, my analog wristwatch positioned so I could see the face and the readout of the instrument at the same time. A cable ran to the closed gunport, attached to a sensor I'd used 100mph tape to adhere to the side of the helicopter as a field expedient detector since the Chinooks weren't geared for it. I knew by land speed and time that we were approaching the site. Outside the windows the sun had risen two and a half hours ago while we were refueling, and the scrub had given away to lifeless appearing orange and ocher desert.
I yawned, flexing the muscles in my shoulder and neck, closing my eyes.
When the Geiger counter started crackling my eyes snapped open and I looked down.
24
One heart contraction
50
Half an inhalation
75
One full beat
The Geiger counter began screaming a warbling warning.
105
A full inhalation.
I reached out and slapped the Crew Chief's leg. He looked at me, pulling one of his ear coverings free and frowning as I grabbed his uniform and pulled him close.
"VEER OFF! ALL SERPENT ELEMENTS VEER OFF! CUT SOUTH BY SOUTH-EAST RIGHT NOW! HEADING ONE THREE FIVE!" I bellowed at him, pointing at the Geiger counter face. I slapped the silencer on the alarm.
148
He went a greenish color and spoke into his mic . The helicopter tried to stand on its tail. Rucksacks that hadn't been secured slid to the back and two of the Rangers lost their footing as the engines screamed and the pitch of the rotors changed. The Chinook tilted to the right like a ship that had slid into a wave sideways, the engines screaming. I could hear the alarms going off.
182
235
222
209
194
162
I breathed a heaving sign of relief.
The radiation dropped sharply as the helicopter tilted toward the nose, the engines still screaming. I knew the pilots were getting the hell out.
I looked out the window.
62
We were at least three miles from canyon and the bridge. I could see a plume of steam rising from where the trestle had been and went cold. It was rising to about five thousand feet and then dispersing South. According to my memory, there were only a few towns and one city in range of the fallout.
God be with everyone.
The rubble was definitely simmering. The enhanced jacketing and the burst enhancing cage must have been crushed around the uranium, pressed against it, with water flowing over it.
31
I'd have to dose everyone with potassium iodine and Prussian Blue as soon as we landed. It had only been less than 15 seconds, but that amount of radiation wasn't a joke. At least we had the light armored skin of the combat insertion helicopter to protect us.
The Chinooks were probably a write-off now.
The Crew Chief leaned down next to me. "Where do we land?" He asked. The mouth of the canyon was a bust now.
"Alternate Site Delta," I yelled back, glad I'd detailed a half-dozen alternate sites. "Drop us, continue with the mission!"
He relayed it, then tapped my knee again.
"They've got a clear landing spot here. You can rappel down and release the humvee and then we'll land. There's a hill between this spot and the canyon!" He yelled. I glanced out the window, seeing the other three helicopters heading toward the mesa.
"All right," I said, unbuckling my harness and standing up. I lurched to the doorway, picking up the rappelling cord and snapping on. "It's just me, I'm currently the only one qualified!"
He nodded.
The Chinook levelled out while the rest of Actual stared at me. The Chief yanked open the door and I turned around, sticking my fat butt out of the helicopter first. I kicked off, swinging out, and slid down the line twenty feet to the ground, ocher dust poofing out around my feet. I unsnapped the rappelling cord and looked around.
Rust red desert.
I hustled over, ignoring the chill in the air, and undid the cargo hooks from the grounded vehicle. I moved to where the Chief could see me and waved him off before going back to the humvee.
It was a junker. It ran, but the body was damaged, one fender ripped away God only knew when. No top. No tailgate. No windows. No doors. The bed had equipment stacked in it, secured against one side.
It would have to be dropped in a cement lined hole and buried in concrete by the time we were done.
The helicopter settled as I cranked the starter till the humvee grudgingly started. It was missing on at least one cylinder, but it didn't have to survive till long.
Like us, just till the mission was complete.
I got out, leaving it sitting there with bluish smoke coming out from under the engine compartment, which meant that the exhaust system was shot.
I hustled over to the helicopter, pulling my ruck off and digging in the middle pocket. It was a large infantry ruck, not the standard smaller size. I pulled out, by feel, the Prussian Blue and the potassium iodine. My animals were getting out of the back, jogging, and I waved them toward the truck while I moved up to the Chief.
"Take one of these right now," I told him, handing him the two boxes. "All of you. Take another in six hours, one tonight, and one in the morning," I put my hand on his shoulder. "As soon as you have privacy, yank one out. Do not have sexual intercourse until you have masturbated six times, a minimum of two days."
He nodded. "My balls going to glow in the dark?"
"No, but we don't want any sperm with two tails or heads slamming up into your wife's womb," I told him. "We all offloaded?" He nodded, "Get gone. Tell Hydra-Nine-Charlie to reroute our supply slick here."
He nodded.
"I'll mark with orange smoke when they get close," I told him.
"Good luck, Chief," He said, stepping back into the Chinook. I jogged around in front and raised my arm over my head, making a small circle over my head. The co-pilot gave me a thumbs up and the helicopter lifted off. I watched it, ignoring the dust and dirt kicked up by the prop-wash, secure in my Raybans ability to protect my eyes.
I walked back to the humvee, well, what was left of it, lighting a cigarette. SFC Vickerly was standing next to the humvee, eyeballing the rising steam nervously.
"We in the fallout for that?" He asked, pointing at the plume.
"Yes," I told him. "Pucker up or leave." I was being harsh, but this situation meant nobody got coddled.
He puckered up.
"From here on out, you'll be referred to as Romeo by my animals and myself," I stated. He just nodded and I turned away, looking at my animals.
"Five," I snapped, pointing at West, "You're on the radio and rear medical."
She nodded, "Yes, Chief, I mean, Charlie."
"Three," I said.
"Yes, Charlie," Peel said.
"You're driver," I told the other woman. I stared at them. "You will be exposed to the least amount of radiation, since both of you are fertile females who have not had ovum harvesting done for you."
The both paled, but nodded.
"Seven," I said, turning to Gross.
"Yes, Charlie?" He said.
"You'll be back with them. You'll handle the M-249. Use discretion, but if it looks hinky, kill any interlopers."
"What if it's a reporter?" He asked.
"Shoot to kill," I said coldly. "Keyword: Omaha."
He swallowed, but nodded. "Yes, Charlie. Should a member of the press approach, I will shoot to kill with no warning. Keyword: Omaha."
"Good, Seven, good," I stated. "You will also be in charge of changing out our linings."
I looked into the sky, squinting. It was too bright for me to see into the distance easily. "Can anyone see Egret-Eight?"
"No, Charlie," Two of them said together.
"From the radiation at the wreck, we will only be able to withstand ninety minutes of exposure within the suits," I shuddered, "Without our suits, we would be dead within minutes. The suits mean we have only fifteen minutes to get there, thirty minutes inside, and thirty minutes back with patients. That gives us fifteen minutes safety margin."
"I've been trained to go in naked, and I'll be using a different suit," I told them.
"Why won't we be using the same as you?" Cherry, Nine, asked.
"It requires training to use, weighs ninety pounds with air tanks, and looks like a space suit or an EOD suit," I told them. "Any of you think you're in shape to waddle around packing an extra ninety pounds?"
They all shook their heads.
"Two, you'll be with me at all times," I stated. I pulled out 100mph tape and set them on the hood, then pulled out radiation cards and set them next to the tape. "One at a time, come here."
When each moved up, I used 100mph tape to put a rad-card on the left side of their face, and pulled the activation strip.
"This way I can check to see if there's any problem with the suit with a quick glance," I told each one. "You'll learn to check each other every five mikes."
They all nodded.
"Egret-Eight coming in, Charlie" Cherry told me.
"Roger that, Nine," I said. "Nine, Ten, guide them in." I reached into my pocket and pulled out an orange smoke, throwing it off to the side a good fifty meters. It started billowing out orange smoke.
I'd chosen orange because it would quickly disperse into the desert coloration.
The Geiger counter was reading a 19. While I watched, it ticked up to 20, dropped to 19, then stayed at 20.
Those rounds had to be cooking bad. We'd need a fully loaded NESTER (Nuclear Emergency Situation Team - Emergency Recovery) team out here ASAP.
Egret-Eight landed and I waved them toward it. They knew their job. White Sands had loaded a Fox vehicle under the Chinook, loaded the immediate gear into the Fox, the rest of the gear was inside the helicopter on pallets.
I followed, watching them undo the lift point cables. I didn't know if any of them knew how to drive a Fox, but it was time to teach someone.
When I saw it I stopped, wiping my mouth with a shaking hand.
It was an old XM-93 version. Squat. Ugly. Painted with West German Army colors.
Why was it here?
"Are you all right, Charlie?" Donovan asked me.
"Yeah, I'm all right. I didn't expect to see that particular vehicle here," I said, shaking my head. "But considering there is less than a hundred M-93 Fox variants currently in service between the Army and Marines, I shouldn't be surprised."
I shook my head. "That White Sands sent that isn't good. That vehicle is designed for..." I trailed off, seeing another Chinook coming in.
"Five! Who is that?" I bellowed at West, pointing at the Chinook.
"Egret-Nine, Charlie," she yelled back. "It's being followed by Egret-Ten and Egret-Eleven!" She pressed her hand against the earphone covering her right ear. "They need you to relocate the base camp as close as possible using the Fox vehicles and set up a medical station!"
"Lugus stab their eyes!" I yelled, turning and glaring at the incoming helicopters.
Some desk riding jackass at White Sands had just thrown a wrench in my carefully planned operation. Instead of evacing the casualties out, they wanted me to provide treatment to any survivors right here in the middle of the New Mexico desert.
I made a mental note to find out who had altered the operational orders, find them, and break at least two of their fingers for their interference.
Moving over to the truck I pulled the folded map out of my pocket, spreading it open on the hood. I slapped my green notebook down and checked out the map.
The wreck as there. The canyon went straight for a six hundred meters, took a sharp bend to the south-by-south-west for fifty meters, then sliced back south-by-south-east. At the west side of that bend the water had carved out a large space that was nearly a hundred meters wide. Softer rock in the past had been eroded quickly. The helicopters had landed in the wide space at the first corner.
I jotted down the grid coordinate to the second bend. There was a third bend before the canyon ended in a fan-like opening and I jotted that one down too, annotating it as secondary/fallback.
The sandstone was full of iron, mica, and silicate out here, and fifty meters of rock would provide a lot of shielding.
"Call this in, we'll attempt at the primary, should the radiation be too high, we'll pull back to the secondary," I told her.
She nodded, listening to her headset, looking frightened but determined.
I suddenly missed the laconic Foster and his detached professionalism.
...they aren't replacements for Atlas Actual...
...they are a new time, new personalities...
...don't try to remake them in Atlas Actual's image...
...shut up, Stillwater...
I watched as the three helicopters landed. Two more Fox vehicles, a humvee, then pallets of gear. Once the offloaded they immediately lifted off, heading east by north-east toward the distant mesa where the Rangers would be setting up command.
One of the pallets was nothing more than boxes of MRE's. Another had an inflatable positive air system GP medium tent liner.
We weren't going to be here a few hours recovering bodies.
We were going to be here for days while they recovered everything.
"Actual, gather up!" I bellowed out. I pointed at the running humvee and made a slashing motion across my throat.
Peel, Three, killed the engine, climbing out and jogging over to me.
"Line up by number, two ranks. Two, on my left, Romeo, on my right," I told them, lighting a cigarette. Once they were standing in front of me and Donovan stood slightly behind me and to my left while Vickerly stood at parade rest behind and to my right, I nodded at the group of eight male and female soldiers in front of me.
"Listen up," I raised my voice slightly, even though the only sound was the spiteful ticking of the cooling humvee engine, the wind, and the distant sound of rotors. "We are being tasked to do SAR (Search and Rescue) on the site, treat the casualties, and provide medical support for the recovery team," I told them. I hadn't gotten orders for the last part, but knew it would be coming. "You will be trained on basic operation of the XM-93 Fox NBC vehicle." I pointed at two of the Fox vehicles. "Five, Three, those two vehicles are now your homes. You will not exit those vehicles while we are within this operational area unless explicitly ordered, by me, via voice and writing. You will resist with lethal force any attempt to seize control of the vehicle or the data."
They both nodded.
"You'll rack your A2's once you get in, and stay under arms with your M9 at all times, is that understood?"
"Yes, Charlie," both said out loud.
"Romeo, you now live in that one with Five. You will work with her and myself to coordinate with all Hydra elements. You are now under Special Weapons control," I told him. "Am I understood, Romeo?"
He nodded. "Yes, Charlie."
"Good, good," I turned and looked at the others. "We will use the humvees, and that XM-93 right there for incursions into the hot zone. The XM-93 will be used to deliver me into the primary zone." The old XM-93 that had sat at Atlas ignored my hatred.
I shook my head. "They are amphibious vehicles, so you don't have to worry about that," I pointed at the satellite dish on top of the vehicles. "We will transmitting scientific data at all times. I will set the instruments, don't touch anything once that happens."
I pointed at the 5KW generator in the back of the humvee. "We'll drop that beast, run the cables to the Fox vehicles, run the electrical off of that thing, since the Fox is a fuel hog."
I slapped my thigh. "Let's get to work, Actual."
...and the midget's dancing...