Callisto Deception by John Read

Author:John Read [Read, John]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2017-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

By zero-dark-thirty we reached 16,000 feet. The stealth Jump Jet’s chameleon skin matched the blackness of the sky. The Russian drones skimmed the ground, 14,000 feet below us.

A single red bulb illuminated the cabin. As we neared the target zone, a ramp descended from the rear of the jet. We inched our way toward the edge, as a deafening wind whipped around the cabin like juice in a blender. I looked into the darkness. The other Jump Jet was just barely visible against the moonless sky.

The red light clicked off and a green one clicked on.

Jamaal Nash and Luke Singer jumped first, diving off the ramp. They extended their arms and, by extension, their wingsuits, as they slipped into the black. Serene, Keven, and I jumped next, followed by Avro and Amelia. Within seconds, all seventy-four troops dropped into the night.

Although technically a stealth airframe, the Russian drone’s engines produced just enough heat to be detected by our tactical visor’s IR sensors. Our suit computers amplified the signals, illuminating the drones like traffic on a nighttime freeway.

The drones flew at 270 miles per hour, a speed we could easily match. Those who jumped first aimed for the drones to the east. We worked our way west from there.

I leveled my approach as we descended below 3,000 feet. Serene flew to my left, tucking in her arms and sacrificing altitude for speed. She shot several hundred feet ahead, aiming for the lead drone. She grabbed the vertical stabilizer, swinging herself underneath the aircraft with the agility of a yoga master.

I approached my target from above, hovering for a moment and bleeding off speed to hold my altitude and then reached out to grab the drone by the tail, and missed. Shit!

As I tumbled end over end in the drone’s jet wash, my suit tore open and the wings ripped off. I steadied myself in freefall, rolling onto my back to see Serene tucked into position on the bottom of her drone’s fuselage. Her wingsuit transformed, enclosing in the chameleon shell.

I wasn’t the only one who’d missed. At least twenty other bodies fell along with me.

The drones flew out of sight over a ridge. I winced, as my body exploded into the hillside. We all wore suicide vests, knowing that this was a one-way trip.

It felt like I was punched by a giant fist, the resistance suit heating to 200 degrees and attacking my skin with several hundred watts of electricity from electrodes covering every millimeter of my body. But my death lasted only moments before the program chose a new avatar.

I assumed the body of a Turing who had already activated his camo. I was now a suckerfish, stuck to the underside of a drone.

A landing gear extended inches from my face as we approached the runway. The hijacked aircraft came to a stop. I half expected the entire Russian army to be waiting for us, but the tarmac was empty.

As we passed through the hangar doors, I noticed an arm poking out of the suckerfish on the drone beside me.

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