I, Synthorg by A J Blakemont

Author:A J Blakemont [Blakemont, A J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark Romantic Worlds
Published: 2019-01-27T22:00:00+00:00

22. Infiltration

Jake’s chivalrous ideas of war were challenged that day. From the withdrawn expression on his face, I understood that, for him, victory did not have the sweet taste he’d anticipated. I needed to talk to him, but the mission came first. It was time to move to the next phase.

I ordered my comsynts to trade their quantum suits for the uniforms of the rebels. Not that those were proper uniforms, but the rebels had some common accessories—helmets, bulletproof vests, belts with grenades and tools, etcetera. Their dominant color was dark green.

Lancer would drive the pickup, the sharpshooter would be sitting next to him, and I would be at the back. Kodiak would drive the armored van, the medtech next to him. The noobs would remain in their quantum suits. I wanted them to sit tight at the back of the van and keep out of trouble.

Ten marines against an entire rebel base—that wasn’t enough. We had no idea what we were up against. Intel was sketchy at best. Fortunately, the plan was not to take the base, but to infiltrate it. The role of my squad was to disable the defense systems so the rest of the company could storm the place with minimal losses.

We hit the road, pickup first, followed closely by the armored van. Both vehicles could use maglev, and also had wheels for roads not equipped with maglev.

No one spoke during the trip to the rebel hideout. When we reached the cave that led to the base, Lancer and Kodiak deployed the wheels and disengaged the maglev engines. From that point on, we would have to drive the old-fashioned way.

“Privates, your standing order is to remain cloaked, understood?” I said firmly. “Do not engage unless ordered. Everyone, no-comms mode from now on.”

No comms meant that we would not use any wireless communication methods. Low-tech methods of communication only.

The road was so narrow that only one vehicle at a time could pass. The walls of the cave closed in on us as we progressed toward our destination. At the narrowest point, the sides of the van almost brushed the walls of ice.

Tension was mounting. The moment of truth was nigh. A cloaked drone had followed us since we left the main road. The rebels did not contact us, which was worrisome. Was this part of their usual modus operandi?

The abandoned factory emerged from the darkness, lit by the beams of our headlights. Only its gloomy, rusted façade was free of ice; the rest had fused with the glacier. The volcano that had created this cave centuries ago was now almost extinct, and all it could exude was a lonely geyser that spewed hot water at regular intervals.

Difficult to imagine that thousands of people used to live here not so long ago.

“Stop.” The order came from the speakers in our pickup. Lancer obeyed immediately and hit the brakes.

I clasped my rifle nervously, an obsolete KK-M32 railgun I’d taken from a dead rebel.

For a moment, all we could hear was the purring of the engine.

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