《The First Shot - A Two Worlds Short Story》


 Part 1

    Major Thomas Ward, 2<sup>nd</sup> Battalion, 75<sup>th</sup> Ranger Regiment


    Location: Classified Facility between Dongfanghongcun, China and Khabarovsk, Russia, The Eastern Block, 2141 CE


    SATELLITE STATUS . . . CONNECTING . . . CONNECTING . . . FAILURE


    SECONDARY SUBROUTINE INITIATING . . . SEARCHING FOR SIGNAL


    SIGNAL ACQUIRED . . . REROUTING . . . CWS GERALD FORD . . . CONNECTING . . . CONNECTING . . . SUCCESSFUL CONNECTION


    Major Thomas Ward didn¡¯t even notice the connection as a flurry of bullets turned the concrete above his head into tiny shrapnel missiles. He ducked low and ran while using what was left of the steel-reinforced wall as cover. It was a difficult task for a man six and a half feet tall and weighing nearly three hundred pounds with his armor on, but he made it happen. He dove the last five feet like a ballplayer sliding into home base. He landed in a jumbled heap and nearly lost his rifle, but he was alive.


    ¡°Where the fuck is my god damned air support?!¡± His deep baritone cut through the fog of war. ¡°Wilson? Captain Wilson, do you copy?!¡±


    ¡°Captain Wilson got his arse blown off by a grenade twenty minutes ago, Sir.¡± A man slammed hard into the wall next to the MAJ back-first.


    ¡°Shit!¡± The MAJ got to his feet, pivoted around into the open doorway and let loose with a five-shot burst of energy particles.


    He caught two soldiers in the brown and beige camouflage of the Eastern Block¡¯s local defense force. The high-powered laser melted and cut through the ballistic weave of their body armor to create giant, blackened holes of super-heated bodily fluids and organs.


    The two men died with a gargle in their throats, as the three men behind them jumped back behind cover.


    ¡°Die you slanty-eyed bastards!¡± The man next to the MAJ poured more fire onto the enemy¡¯s position, but his rounds were traditional bullets.


    ¡°Colour Sergeant!¡± A third man joined them at their impromptu defensive position. ¡°I don¡¯t believe they liked being called that.¡±


    ¡°My apologies, Lieutenant, but what are they going to do; try and kill me?¡±


    Despite the dire situation the three soldiers found themselves in, they couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the off-color joke. What was a little casual racism when you were fighting to the death.


    Speaking of death, ¡°GRENADE!¡± MAJ Ward saw the gleaming steel ball flying through the door.


    With impossibly quick reflexes he grabbed the ball out of the air, and tossed it sidearm back through the door. His little league coach would have been pissed at the poor form, but last the MAJ knew the guy was probably dead defending Alaska from the latest Russkie incursion.


    The startled yell of the enemy was all the reassurance the MAJ needed before a loud BOOM ripped through the room. Without the noise-canceling effects of his helmet, his ears would have been ringing from tinnitus.


    ¡°Fall back!¡± He ordered as he pointed toward a door on the far side of the room. ¡°If you¡¯ve got any more demo, now¡¯s the time to use it.¡±


    ¡°Roger that, Sir. Didn¡¯t anyone tell you? The Royal Marines always come prepared.¡± The CSGT gave a smile visible through his own ¨C slightly different helmet.


    One by one they fell back into the next room, with the CSGT moving last while the MAJ and LT covered him. There were no sounds of pursuit, but that wouldn¡¯t last long. All three men knew it, so they used their time wisely.


    The MAJ unfastened his helmet and placed it on his knee. That freed up his teeth, which he used to rip open an airtight brown package that he removed from a pocket on his thigh. The scent of some pastry wafted out of the bag before he started to wolf it down.


    ¡°Major Ward, 2<sup>nd</sup> Battalion, 75<sup>th</sup> Rangers, US Army,¡± he said between bites.


    ¡°Colour Sergeant William McGee, 40 Commando, His Majesty¡¯s Royal Marines.¡± The stout man took a seat.


    The MAJ gave a nod and extended his non-pastry-holding hand to the NCO. In the US Army the CSGT would have been designated as a Sergeant First Class. It was a senior NCO position, which meant the guy should know his shit. From what the MAJ had seen so far, he looked like he knew what he was doing. McGee had close-cropped vividly-red hair when he removed his helmet. His eyes had the hard look of a man who¡¯d seen plenty of action, and after years of this constantly escalating solar war who hadn¡¯t.


    The CSGT saw the MAJ looking, and ran his hand through his stubble with a grin. ¡°A gift from my mum, the boys all call me fire-crotch.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Colour Sergeant.¡± The third member of the group spoke up, and the CSGT obliged. ¡°Lieutenant Allen Thrumball, A Squadron 22 SAS. It¡¯s a pleasure, Major.¡± The LT hadn¡¯t taken a seat. He was alert and watching the door they¡¯d come through.


    ¡°Likewise.¡± The MAJ shook the shorter LT¡¯s hand.


    The LT was thin compared to the MAJ and CSGT. The MAJ was built like an NFL linebacker ¨C broad shoulders and a big-chested ¨C just like the Rangers liked it. The CSGT didn¡¯t look like he topped five-eight, but he was built like a boulder. If the MAJ needed someone to ram down a door then the CSGT was his man. The LT looked like the kind of man who could run all day and all night and never quit. He had a shrewd look in his eyes that said if he couldn¡¯t run through something he¡¯d go under, over, or around it, and as a last resort just blow the shit out of it. All it took was brief introductions to know that every man in this room was a highly-trained and lethal soldier.


    It explained why they were here in the first place.


    The mission they¡¯d been given was simple. It was a high altitude drop out of a frigate heading up into low orbit. There were two ten-man teams: one from the US and the other from the UK. The two nations were the primary members in the fledgling United Commonwealth that had been established.


    While the governments might have melded, the militaries had not. The MAJ didn¡¯t blame the higher ups for being resistant to change. The MAJ¡¯s Rangers and the LT¡¯s Special Air Services had been around for two hundred years. The CSGT¡¯s Royal Marines were several hundred years older than that. That was a lot of heritage and tradition to overcome in a few years. Still, they needed to overcome it. The war between the Commonwealth and the Eastern Block was constantly escalating. The whole solar system had a stake in the fight now.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    MAJ Ward had been in charge of the US team, which was a mix of Rangers, Marine RECON, and a few SEALs. They¡¯d dropped with the latest and greatest gear the most ingenious minds in the United States of America had to offer. The Armored Combat Suit of the Future was an integrated network of information sharing components that collected data and gave the soldier the information he needed to make tactical decisions. The three main parts were the M18 dual-action combat rifle, the two-tier body armor, and the helmet¡¯s heads up display (HUD). The helmet protected the soldier from low-caliber impacts and the HUD filtered the information to the soldier and gave them options.


    The two-tier armor was self-explanatory. There were two parts to protect the soldier from the growing threats of modern warfare. The first part was a ballistic weave that was capable of stopping objects traveling at formidable velocities. It still stung like a bitch to get shot, but it was better than having a round blow a chunk of your guts out an exit wound. The second tier was a layer of laminate plating to protect against energy blasts. The idea of the design was deflecting and dispersion of those particles. The plates were flexible enough to take the shockwave of hits to the ballistic weave above it, but they couldn¡¯t take a direct hit without cracking, which was why there was a layer of weaving both below and above the plates. In total, the armor vest weighed around thirty-five pounds. Elbow and knee pads of the same materials added a little more to the total, but Ward wasn¡¯t complaining. He¡¯d taken more than one hit from the enemy and nothing had penetrated.


    The last piece of the next-generation war fighting equipment was the M18. The dual-action rifle was a double barrel. One barrel fired Commonwealth-standard 7.62 rounds. Rumor what that they were working on upgrading to electromagnetically-propelled rounds ¨C like the ones used by the warships ¨C but the technology hadn¡¯t been miniaturized yet. Any soldier you asked was fine with their current armament. They¡¯d rather have something a little outdated that they could trust than something new and unreliable.


    The second barrel was the tube for the laser. It was capable of twenty-five kilowatt bursts, which was about the average power usage of an entire home packed into a single bolt. After a few hundred shots, it needed to be recharged, but that could be done by plugging it into any electrical socket. Even solar recharge was possible if you had the time.


    The UK soldiers ¨C despite being from the same theoretical army as the Americans ¨C wore the same armor, but had different rifles. Their own L96A1 fired the same ammunition and energy blasts, but it was a single barrel and required changing settings and ammunition. It had the advantage of being lighter than the M18, but it really depended on the soldier which one they preferred. The MAJ liked his M18 and the LT liked his L96A1. Both officers were pretty sure the CSGT didn¡¯t care what he was shooting as long as it took down the enemy.


    ¡°Well, Sir.¡± The CSGT stated as he downed a full canteen of water. ¡°This is a right proper clusterfuck if I¡¯ve ever seen one. What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    The MAJ knew the CSGT had a point. They¡¯d dropped into the LZ just fine, but then everything went to shit. Spoofed satellite imagery didn¡¯t give them a clear picture of enemy forces on the ground. They ended up landing a quarter mile from the local militia¡¯s headquarters. They had to fight their way through over a hundred men to reach their objective. The MAJ had seen at least two of his team fall in the battle. Then to make matters worse, they arrived at the objective to find nearly a full battalion tasked with guarding it. They were Chinese regulars, not some local defensive militia. That was when they¡¯d been cut to pieces and dispersed into buddy teams to try and gain entry.


    ¡°The plan is to accomplish the mission, Sergeant. Our orders are to destroy this place and whatever the hell they were doing here, so that¡¯s what we are going to do.¡±


    The MAJ really would have liked to know what the hell they were doing at this facility, but that was need to know, and apparently the soldiers tasked with this operation didn¡¯t need to know.


    ¡°I do have one question for you.¡± The MAJ continued. He¡¯d been fighting long enough to know that ¡°because I told you so¡± wasn¡¯t a very motivating plan, and in their current state someone needed to ease the tension. ¡°Why do you Brits pronounce lieutenant leftenant? That¡¯s always bugged me.¡±


    The CSGT cocked an eyebrow before barking out a short laugh. ¡°Well that¡¯s simple, Sir. Our superiors frown at us when we say they are a resident of a toilet.¡±


    The LT shook his head, but had a smile on his face. The MAJ didn¡¯t get it.


    ¡°One of our terms for the bathroom is loo, Sir.¡± The LT explained. ¡°If you are a loo-tenant, then you reside in a bathroom.¡±


    The MAJ just sat there for a second. ¡°Is that really the fucking reason?¡±


    ¡°Hell if I know.¡± The CSGT shrugged.


    The three soldiers would have continued their lively conversation if the door to an adjacent room didn¡¯t burst open. Three new men in armor rushed into the room. The MAJ, LT, and CSGT had their rifles on the new team in a heartbeat, but the LT¡¯s HUD lit up with blue friendly designations.


    ¡°Hold fire!¡± He yelled just as someone from the other group did as well.


    Even in the digital age of warfare they¡¯d all come within a hair of wasting each other.


    The MAJ got to his feet and threw the brown pastry package on the ground. ¡°Sound off.¡±


    ¡°Petty Officer Second Class Dustin Chambers, SEAL Team 3, US Navy.¡±


    ¡°Corporal Elijah Dawson, RECON, US Marines.¡±


    ¡°Sir Benjamin Cuthbert, His Majesty¡¯s Secret Service.¡± The last man¡¯s proclamation surprised everyone. The MAJ knew the PO2 and CPL.


    ¡°Where the hell have you been?¡± The MAJ waved his soldiers forward while the CSGT and the LT watched the two doors.


    ¡°Trying to fight our way through this hellhole, Sir.¡± The SEAL NCO shook his head. ¡°I got a message out briefly before they jammed us up. We were supposed to have air support from a squadron of F-37s, but they aren¡¯t freeing shit up from the invasion.¡±


    The invasion was the reason there had been limited reconnaissance and preparation for their operation. Elements of the 3<sup>rd</sup> and 12<sup>th</sup> US Army Infantry Divisions, being supported by the Japanese Defense Force and Royal Navy, were trying to seize control of the key Russian naval base at Vladivostok. They would never hold it ¨C they could never hold it ¨C but destroying it would rob the Easterners of a critical North Pacific base and give the Japanese mainland some breathing room. It might even lead to breaking the blockade that had been starving the island nation for nearly a year.


    It was why the Commonwealth commanders were throwing thirty thousand soldiers and dozens of warships at the vaunted base¡¯s defenses. It was also where every member of this covert mission was supposed to be until they got reassigned. Not that it was much of a covert mission anymore.


    Now, the MAJ wished he¡¯d been tasked to help assault a heavily defended seaport instead of fighting for something he didn¡¯t understand in a place he couldn¡¯t pronounce.


    He shut that thinking down immediately. He was a soldier and he would do his job no matter what the cost,


    ¡°Is anyone from the team left?¡± He feared the answer to the question.


    ¡°Not that I know of, Sir, and the radio is dark for everyone else.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯re it.¡± The MAJ walked back over to his helmet, picked it up, and snapped it back into place.


    His HUD powered up as he regarded the five other men in the room. ¡°We¡¯re all that¡¯s left. Let¡¯s get it done.¡±


    ¡°I can be of assistance, Major.¡± The only man not in armor announced confidently. ¡°I was undercover with a Russian emissary when I was captured. They¡¯ve kept me prisoner in this lovely little spa for the last four months. I have a good layout of the facility in my head, and can point you to the objective.¡±


    ¡°How do you know what our objective is?¡± The LT asked from where he was covering the door.


    ¡°I was the man sent to discover whether or not it was here. It is,¡± the secret agent stated seriously, ¡°and we need to destroy it.¡±


    ¡°Bloke doesn¡¯t need to tell me twice.¡± The CSGT slapped his pocket where he kept his extra demo gear.


    ¡°Ok, let¡¯s move out. Dawson you¡¯re on point because you¡¯re such a sneaky bastard.¡± That got a grin out of the Recon CPL. ¡°Mr. Cuthbert, please tell him where to go and stay behind him to avoid getting shot. I don¡¯t want to be searching this place when the rest of the enemy battalion gets their shit together.¡±


    As if to emphasize the point a loud explosion shook the room and rained dust from the ceiling. The screams of the wounded and dying were only one room away.

 Part 2

    ¡°MOVE! TAC Channel Bravo!¡± MAJ Ward ordered as they retreated through the door and down a hallway filled with charred paper and wrecked furniture.


    He switched over to the new communications channel and did a quick comms check as they moved with a purpose down the hall. They didn¡¯t flee like a bunch of untrained teenagers. They moved tactically as they fell back deeper into the facility. There were doors evenly spaced down the hallway and they had to cover each of them as they passed. The rooms beyond them looked pretty ordinary: desks, computers, and office supplies like you¡¯d see at any office in the US. The difference was that this hallway alone housed roughly a dozen offices, and a few were larger ones with cubicles. A quick tally told the MAJ nearly fifty people worked in this section alone.


    ¡°The objective has massive power requirements.¡± Cuthbert saw the MAJ looking at his surroundings. ¡°I¡¯ve kept a rough count and at least four hundred civilians work at this facility.¡±


    ¡°We guessed there would be civilians onsite, and that¡¯s why we planned the raid at night. They might be helping the enemy, but they¡¯re still civilians.¡±


    They came to the first corner and CPL Dawson made the motion to freeze by holding up a fist. The marine poked the barrel of his rifle around the corner for a better look. The MAJ tapped into the rifle¡¯s feed for better view.


    The video wasn¡¯t the best quality, but it showed another empty hallway in both directions.


    ¡°We need to take a right and get to the stairs at the end of the hallway.¡± Cuthbert informed. ¡°We need to hurry. They were set to start testing the device an hour ago.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± The MAJ hissed. ¡°Why the hell didn¡¯t you . . .¡± his statement was cut off as gunfire filled the hallway.


    ¡°Contact rear!¡± He announced as he rotated one hundred and eighty degrees and opened fire.


    An energy blast caught the lead enemy soldier in the chest and he went down, but they kept coming. They advanced down the hallway on either side and used the doors and offices as cover to protect their advance.


    ¡°We need to move!¡± The MAJ grunted as a round hit him in the chest but didn¡¯t penetrate. ¡°Dawson, get us the fuck out of here!¡±


    ¡°Go right!¡± Cuthbert yelled frantically.


    ¡°Fuck! I¡¯m trying!¡± Dawson replied as more gunfire hit them from another position. The young marine stumbled from multiple impacts and ended up going straight into an adjacent office instead of to the right. ¡°I¡¯ve got a light machine gun to your left, my right.¡± The CPL¡¯s voice was pained.


    ¡°McGee . . .¡±


    ¡°On it, Sir.¡± The CSGT poked his head around the corner quickly to evaluate the threat. ¡°Cover me!¡± From one of his many pockets the CSGT pulled a cylinder-shaped grenade. He opened up his single barrel L96A1 and slid it into the chamber.


    ¡°Cover him.¡± The MAJ rotated from lasers to good old-fashioned bullets and poured it into the advancing enemy.


    The doorway he was using as cover started to disintegrate under the combined return fire of the enemy, but he kept on shooting. If they couldn¡¯t take out that light machine gun and get to the objective, they were totally fucked.


    ¡°Frag out!¡± The CSGT laughed as he pivoted around the corner and fired.


    The ground rumbled beneath everyone¡¯s feet as fire and shrapnel destroyed the machine gun and any soldier standing within ten feet of it.


    ¡°Move!¡± The MAJ physically grabbed LT Thrumball and threw him in the direction of the T intersection. ¡°Right! Go right!¡±


    They rounded the corner and abandoned tactical doctrine in order to sprint to safety. They made it a quarter of the way there before more gunfire tore into them from ahead. If not for the armor they¡¯d all have been killed outright, but instead they walked away with a few flesh wounds and a lot of bruises.


    ¡°On me!¡± The CPL put his shoulder into a closed door and crashed into another office.


    The group followed his lead.


    ¡°It¡¯s the objective¡¯s garrison.¡± Cuthbert was breathing heavily. He was lucky as hell to be alive. The MAJ knew that. He¡¯d taken two rounds meant for the spy. ¡°There are stairs at the end of the hallway that lead to the vault entrance.


    ¡°Objective¡¯s garrison? I thought they were behind us.¡± PO2 Chambers was wrapping some gauze around his bicep that was bubbling blood.


    ¡°That¡¯s the facility¡¯s garrison. The objective has its own platoon-sized force protecting it.¡±


    ¡°Cuthbert, I know you¡¯ve been a captive for a little while and might be off your game, but if we¡¯re about to charge into thirty enemy soldiers please fucking tell me about it beforehand.¡± The MAJ resisted the urge to grab the spy by the throat and throw him back out into the hallway as a decoy.


    ¡°Noted, Major.¡±


    The MAJ wanted to argue more, but they didn¡¯t have time. He poked his rifle out and put more lead downrange. He caught two soldiers trying to sneak up on them and sent them both to meet their makers.


    ¡°We need to move.¡± Options were cycling through his mind, but the CSGT was way ahead of him.


    ¡°Allow me, gentlemen.¡± The man they called fire-crotch jumped to his feet, rolled his neck, and then ran shoulder first into the wall. The drywall crumbled under his assault, and a roughly human-shaped hole led the way into the next room.


    ¡°Go . . . Go!¡± The MAJ waved them through the improvised door while he provided cover fire.


    His onslaught kept the enemies behind cover and allowed the CSGT and CPL Dawson to make a bigger hole into the next office, and the next one, and the next one. A minute later and they¡¯d practically reached the stairwell, so of course that was when the universe decided to make their lives even more difficult.


    The MAJ ducked just in time as rounds impacted the doorway above his head. ¡°Shit!¡± he rolled away from the barrage and tossed a grenade at the facility¡¯s garrison mustering behind him. It was a careless toss to buy time, and it worked.


    He heard people scream as the grenade detonated. He figured they had thirty seconds before the facility¡¯s garrison ventured forward and pinned the small Commonwealth team between them and the objective¡¯s garrison. Either way, it was the definition of being caught between a rock and a hard place.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got about twenty-five seconds before we get pinned.¡± The MAJ reached the rest of the team.


    ¡°And we¡¯ve got more problems.¡± The SEAL PO2 had his gun on two women standing defiantly in the room across from his team.


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake check my ID.¡± One woman, a tall Caucasian one with a scowl reached into her bra and pulled out a slip of plastic.


    It looked like nothing but a spare piece of plastic, but she pressed her finger to it and spoke. ¡°Call sign Trojan, security code Delta-Nine-Four-Charlie.¡±


    The piece of clear plastic started to darken and resolve into an ID with three big letters written on top: CIA.


    ¡°Of course the Agency is here.¡± The MAJ grumbled. He¡¯d seen these IDs before and so far he didn¡¯t know if there was a way to counterfeit them. His armor also checked the woman¡¯s ID against known assets in the area of operations and it checked out.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°And of course the army started to blow the shit out of my carefully planned op without so much as a friendly heads up.¡± Her eyes were filled with fire, which explained the two dead enemy soldiers on the ground.


    A quick observation showed they¡¯d been killed by a knife, not bullets or energy blasts.


    ¡°She¡¯s with me.¡± The woman ¨C a Dr. Elizabeth Shaw according to her ID ¨C stepped in the SEAL¡¯s line of fire when he turned his weapon on the other woman in the room.


    She was short, Chinese, and had the same fire in her eyes that Dr. Shaw did.


    ¡°She¡¯s my partner. Japanese Defense Force Captain Aiko Tanaka. She¡¯s fluent in five languages, is a communications expert, and has been watching my back for weeks.¡± Dr. Shaw didn¡¯t move despite the SEAL¡¯s irritated look.


    ¡°What are you two . . .?¡± Cuthbert started to ask, but the MAJ cut them off.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time for this.¡± The whole exchange had taken half of the time they should have been getting out of here. ¡°Chambers and Cuthbert watch them. We take them with us. If they¡¯re really allies, they¡¯ll help. If not, then we¡¯ll use them as human shields and shoot them when we¡¯re done.¡±


    ¡°Major that¡¯s . . .¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have time to argue, Doctor.¡± He cut her off and the look on his face shut her up. ¡°We need to move.¡±


    Dawson opened fire from the doorway. The enemy had taken the lack of counter fire as an excuse to move forward, and the marine made them pay for that.


    ¡°Everyone, frag grenades to the right on three. Does anyone have smoke?¡±


    The CSGT nodded.


    ¡°Good. Smoke to the left to give us some cover. We¡¯re charging the stairwell on a three-count after the grenades.¡±


    The look on everyone¡¯s faces said it was the last thing they wanted to do, but they knew they didn¡¯t have a choice. Charges made good war stories, but the hardly ever worked out well for the people doing the charging.


    ¡°Smoke out.¡± The CSGT whispered as he lobbed another cylinder around the door and to the left. There was some yelling as the enemy saw it coming and ran, but then just a loud pop and hiss as the thick black gas expanded into the hallway.


    ¡°One . . . two . . . three!¡± The MAJ gave the gas a little time to expand before three grenades flew out of their room and to the right. He would have preferred they had more, but that was all the frag grenades they had left.


    He held out his arm to stop Cuthbert from charging toward the stairwell too early. A moment later three loud BOOMs shook the building, and then they charged. No one sounded a war cry during their charge. It was stupid to let the enemy know you were coming to slit their throat, and in their case, to alert the garrison behind them that they were in the hallway.


    They had fifteen yards to cross before they reached the stairwell. It looked like one of the grenades hadn¡¯t made it into the doorway and exploded in the hallway. There was scaring from where the high-velocity shrapnel tore into the steel-reinforced walls, and burn marks near the site of detonation. There were also three torn up bodies, which they quickly stepped over.


    The MAJ kept his rifle up for the first ten yards. It was still the most efficient way to kill the enemy if they poked their head out on the approach. Once he was within five meters he slung the weapon around to his back. The sling strap caught the M18 and kept it from falling, but it still made him grimace as it smacked into a spot on his back where he¡¯d been shot only a few minutes before. He ignored the pain as he reached across to his left side where a wicked looking knife was sheathed.


    It was a six-inch K-Bar given to him by an old First Sergeant when he was a company commander. The MAJ didn¡¯t know it at the time, but the old NCO spent a pretty penny on the parting gift. It was a top of the line model and coated in some synthetic crap that was supposed to keep it sharp. A knife you never had to spend time sharpening was a precious tool in the MAJ¡¯s line of work.


    There was no time to be coy at the entrance to the stairwell. They were in a situation where the violence of action would determine the victor. The MAJ went right while LT went left. Immediately, the MAJ came face-to-face with a ragged looking Chinese officer. His eyes were a little unfocused and he had some light bleeding, but otherwise he was still prepared to fight.


    Until the MAJ ran his knife through the man¡¯s chest.


    He pushed the Chinese officer back, smacking him into another soldier who was trying to get to his feet. Behind that was a wall. The MAJ pinned the enemy officer against the wall and gave a jerk upward with the knife. The man cried out in pain as the MAJ cut into something vital, and then coughed up blood in a gurgle of fear as the Ranger lifted him up and tossed him over the railing to their left. The man¡¯s screams as he fell didn¡¯t hinder the MAJ from turning on the remaining soldier. The man was on his knees going for his own knife. The MAJ kicked him savagely in the face. It shattered the enemy¡¯s nose, knocked him back to the ground, and gave the Ranger an easy opening to jab his knife into the man¡¯s spine.


    The MAJ¡¯s eyes swept the scene looking for more targets, but there were none. It looked like the other two grenades found their mark and killed another half dozen men at the top of the stairwell.


    ¡°They didn¡¯t send the whole garrison.¡± Cuthbert did the math as the rest of the team streamed into the small space and took up positions to cover the hallway to their rear. ¡°How are we going to get down?¡±


    CSGT McGee answered the question with a flourish. He pulled a large loop of rope off his shoulders and went to work tying a knot to the thick railing. The MAJ could imagine the royal marine whistling some tune while he worked.  The knot was done in seconds. The MAJ checked it and gave it an experimental tug. Air Assault school had taught him the same knot, and the CSGT had done it flawlessly.


    ¡°I hope you know how to rappel?¡± The MAJ turned to Cuthbert, Dr. Shaw, and Captain Tanaka. The soldiers had harnesses built into their armor, but the others didn¡¯t.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just take the stairs?¡± Shaw looked over the edge and her face paled a little.


    It was covered in grime from walking through the cloud of dust from the grenades, but he could still make out some freckles.  Her blonde hair had a gray tinge to it now, but her eyes were determined, and she swept her hair back in her hands and started to tie it up with a small band. The Japanese officer didn¡¯t have any difficulties with her chin-length hair.


    ¡°No time.¡± The MAJ shook his head. ¡°Dawson you go first and do your recon thing; then you ladies, followed by Cuthbert, and then Chambers. The LT and I will be the last to go. Now hurry!¡± He could already hear shouts and footsteps getting closer as the facility garrison probed the black smoke swirling in the hallway.


    The MAJ gave one last look over the railing. It was about three stories to where the Chinese officer¡¯s body lay spread-eagled on the ground in a growing pool of blood. He ignored the inconvenient landing he¡¯d have in the near future and turned his attention to the hallway.


    The two females took hold of the rope one by one and wrapped their legs around it. They didn¡¯t have gloves, so they had to go down hand over hand while controlling their descent by putting pressure on the rope with their legs. It was slow going, but once they got down the soldiers would be able to haul ass.


    The MAJ and LT paid attention to the hallway during all of this. The black smoke spoofed IR and the normal mark-one eyeball. Millimeter wave radar wasn¡¯t much better, but the MAJ didn¡¯t think the garrison was as well-equipped as his team. They were going for quantity over quality, which was a theme the Commonwealth had seen throughout the war. The UK-US forces might inflict severe casualties on the enemy, but lost the battle because the Easterners overran them and accomplished their mission. The MAJ heard their Space Corps was doing much better, but for the grunts on the ground it was a constant pain in the ass.


    The LT didn¡¯t have to announce contact when the first of the enemy garrison emerged through the smoke. He just dropped the guy with two center-mass shots. The MAJ engaged his own targets. They divided their field of fire easily. He took the right side of the hallway and the LT took the left. They took their time and moved methodically from target to target until a small mountain of bodies blocked anyone from passing.


    ¡°I¡¯m heading down.¡± The CSGT tapped the MAJ on the shoulder.


    Carabiners could be heard snapping into place and then the hiss of the CSGT fast roping down to the bottom. The soldiers didn¡¯t have to go down hand over hand. They just needed to apply pressure to the rope by tugging it taut behind their back when they got close to the ground and physics stopped them.


    ¡°Moving.¡± The LT announced as he peeled away from the doorway. It was a given that the MAJ would be the last man down.


    The MAJ gave it a ten-count after he heard the LT started rappelling before turning and hurriedly attaching and feeding the rope through his harness. He made sure to do it off to the side so he wasn¡¯t an easy target for the enemy, but he¡¯d eventually have to step into the open to make the drop. He took two deep breaths, rushed into the open, and jumped over the edge. Right before he cleared the railing he saw two metallic balls heading in his direction.


    The enemy had finally taken a page from their playbook.


    ¡°Grenade!¡± The MAJ didn¡¯t bother putting any pressure on the rope and dropped as fast as possible.


    The grenade detonated with two ear-splitting BOOMS. The MAJ and the team were down and far enough away to be out of the kill zone, but the sound bounced around the stairwell and amplified it. The women and Cuthbert winced in agony as their eardrums were assaulted, but the soldiers¡¯ helmets protected them.


    The one thing that wasn¡¯t protected was the rope.


    The MAJ felt it start to give and immediately hit the brakes. He came to a relative stop eight or so feet off the ground before it snapped and he fell. He hit the ground with his feet together, knees bent, and immediately went into a parachute landing fall. The PLF was a technique taught in Airborne School on how to properly land, and it worked in this situation.


    He pitched to the side when he landed, collapsing and twisting so he took the brunt of the landing on his five points of contact: balls of the feet, heels of the feet, thighs, ass, and shoulder. Instead of breaking his ankle on the fall, the MAJ went through the practiced roll and popped back to his feet. The most painful part of the experience was his M18 jamming into his kidney, but he¡¯d live.


    ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±  He pointed down the only way they could go.


    ¡°The vault is just up here.¡± Cuthbert informed.


    Sure enough, a big steel door sat at the end of an undefended hallway. The problem was that it was locked.

 Part 3

    ¡°Shit on a stick.¡± CPL Dawson looked over the vault door with PO2 Chambers and CSGT McGee. ¡°This is a thick-ass bitch.¡±


    ¡°I have to agree with the Corporal.¡± The CSGT shook his head. His characteristic grin had vanished from his face. I can try to blast this bastard open, but I can¡¯t guarantee it, and then I¡¯ve got nothing to blow the objective to kingdom come.¡±


    ¡°Allow me, gentlemen.¡± Dr. Shaw pushed forward to the front and revealed a previously hidden panel.


    She placed her hand on the panel, then leaned forward for an eye scan, and finally said a combination of words in what sounded like Russian. She turned around and grinned at the soldiers when the door hissed open.


    ¡°The doctor on my ID isn¡¯t a cover story. I graduated from Harvard with a Ph.D. in Theoretical Physics before this whole war broke out. A crash course in Russian and I was the perfect candidate to go undercover on this project.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all well and good, Doc, but move your arse.¡± The CSGT grabbed her and pulled her to the side as the soldiers stacked up on the door.


    MAJ Ward took the first position. It was his job to open the door, and watch the rear in case the facility garrison came charging down the stairs. ¡°Three . . . two . . . one . . . GO!¡± He yanked the heavy door and spun to cover them as they surged into the room.


    ¡°Motherfucker!¡± Was the first thing the MAJ heard as the room beyond erupted into an intense gunfight.


    The MAJ didn¡¯t hesitate. He spun back around, grabbed the door as he entered, and yanked it closed behind him. They were finally at their objective, and they weren¡¯t going anywhere until they completed their mission.


    He turned, looked for his team, and immediately took an energy bolt to the stomach. Getting shot in armor was like getting stung by a big ass bee that left a bruise that lasted for a week. Getting shot with a laser felt like someone tried to dunk you in boiling water and nearly succeeded.


    By the grace of the universe¡¯s particular sense of humor the blast didn¡¯t penetrate. It severally damaged the outer layer of ballistic weave, but the laminate plates stopped it. He still felt like he¡¯d gotten the world¡¯s worst sunburn just above his crotch, but he¡¯d live. He was just sweating like a whore in church now.


    The impact made him stagger backwards where he tripped and was lucky again. A second blast soared over his head and scorched the vault door. Nearby cover fire cut off the enemy¡¯s lasers and he rushed toward it.


    ¡°Stop sightseeing, Sir.¡± The CSGT¡¯s grin was back. ¡°There¡¯s our prize.¡±


    The MAJ took a quick peak before getting driven back behind cover by Chinese bullets. The room they were in was a huge cavern. Rock had been carved away to make extra room. Power cables and pipes ran all over those stone walls until they collected into two large conduits that snaked down and toward a machine at the center. Whatever the machine was the MAJ had never seen anything like it.


    It had a solid, raised platform about the size of a basketball court. In the center were two golden idle rings. The MAJ didn¡¯t think they were real gold, but whatever metal they were made of sure did shine.


    Computer monitors and half a dozen supercomputers encircled the rings on three sides. Scientists in white lab coats were cowering behind the technology as laser bolts and bullets flew back and forth between the remaining garrison and the MAJ¡¯s team. He could hear screaming going back in forth in Chinese and Russian.


    ¡°Bound forward in buddy teams!¡± He ordered. ¡°Females and Cuthbert sit tight and let us deal with this.¡±


    If they argued, the MAJ didn¡¯t hear them. ¡°Cover us while we move! Moving!¡± The MAJ and CSGT got to their feet and rushed forward and to the left for five seconds. Their goal was to get behind the supercomputers and rig the demo. If the computers died whatever this thing was did too. ¡°In positon!¡±


    ¡°Moving!¡±


    ¡°Cover our asses!¡± LT Thrumball yelled out.


    The three soldiers rushed forward toward a group of crates while the MAJ and CSGT flooded the area with bullets. The problem was that there was only two of them, and the garrison had at least a dozen people left.


    The second buddy team was two seconds into their three to five second rush when the MAJ saw Dawson go down hard. It was the kind of fall a lifeless body did when momentum took over.


    ¡°Fuck! Check Dawson!¡± The MAJ wanted to rush and check on the marine, but there were fifty yards and sure death between him and where the CPL had fallen.


    ¡°Can¡¯t get to him, but I saw him take the hit . . . laser to the head.¡± The LT¡¯s voice had a hint of emotion in it.


    The MAJ pushed down the anger before he did something stupid and refocused on the mission. ¡°Cover us while we move! Moving!¡±


    They made it to the outer supercomputer this time and slid behind it while barely avoiding heavy laser fire. The CSGT didn¡¯t waste any time in getting a charge planted underneath the large, boxy device.


    The MAJ and CSGT covered the LT and PO2 as they made their final rush. The garrison wasn¡¯t as well-armed or armored as the MAJ¡¯s team and it was starting to take its toll. A minute later and the garrison was down to half a dozen guys, and they started to fall back away from the machine. All while the CSGT moved around the supercomputers and planted more and more explosives.


    The MAJ thought they had the mission in the bag when the room filled with a terrible whining noise and the rings started to spin. One ring was horizontal and the other vertical. The horizontal rings spun within the vertical one giving it a space-warping impression on the mind.


    ¡°No!¡± Dr. Shaw screamed from the back of the room. ¡°Don¡¯t let them . . .!¡±


    The MAJ didn¡¯t hear the rest of what she said as the pitch dramatically increased along with the rings¡¯ speed. They were nothing but a blur now, and a gold-white light was emanating from its center. He scanned the room again. The garrison was still returning fire, but they were at the opposite end of the room seeking better cover. It was the scientists that were the real threat now.


    ¡°Take out the white coats!¡± He didn¡¯t feel bad about giving the order, and his team didn¡¯t feel back about executing.


    Blood stained their white coats as they were gunned down, but the spinning rings didn¡¯t stop and the light continued to grow. Two men started running toward the spinning rings with the clear intention of finishing the job.


    The possibilities flashed through the MAJ¡¯s mind. This thing looked like a Doomsday device if he¡¯d ever seen one, and the mad scientists that were willing to die for it only solidified its danger in his mind. He weighed the life of his team, Dr. Shaw, Captain Tanaka, and Cuthbert against the possibility of what could happen to the United States and Commonwealth he¡¯d sworn to defend.


    The decision was easy.


    ¡°BLOW IT!¡±


    To the CSGT¡¯s credit he didn¡¯t hesitate. He hit the detonator at the same moment the machine reached its crescendo, and his shit-eating grin didn¡¯t even falter.


    Light and fire reached out and devoured everyone.


    ***


    Everything within fifteen miles of the facility located on the China-Russia border ceased to exist as an antimatter holocaust scarred the land. Even though the site was several hundred miles away from the battle at Vladivostok, the Eastern Block and Commonwealth governments hurtled accusations back and forth for years.


    The invasion ended up being a success. The US Army suffered ten thousand casualties and half a dozen ships were sunk: four from the Royal Navy and two from the Japanese Defense Force. Everyone sacrificed for the victory. It allowed a break in the Easterner¡¯s blockade of the Japanese islands that allowed food and to aide hundreds of millions in dire need. Despite the Commonwealth¡¯s generosity with the island nation, Japan would declare themselves neutral and focus on their solar system assets and future colonies.


    The four ships lost by the Royal Navy would come back to haunt the United Kingdom and its ruler King George VII ¨C later know as Bloody George the Singed. The destruction of Vladivostok was a victory in the Battle of the North Pacific, but those four ships would be sorely missed when the Eastern Block feinted south while actually pushing north through civil war-torn Scandinavia. The airborne assault and amphibious invasion across the North Sea would embroil England in a months-long battle for its survival, which would culminate in the King¡¯s infamous but necessary Burning of the Thames.


    Ultimately, Vladivostok and the mysterious explosion would become just a footnote in a war that was just getting started. One day it would be known as the Last Terran War, but it wouldn¡¯t even be close to the last war humanity fought against itself.


    Major Thomas Ward, Lieutenant Allen Thrumball, Colour Sergeant William McGee, Petty Officer Second Class Dustin Chambers, Corporal Elijah Dawson, and the other fallen members of Operation Orpheus were posthumously awarded medals ranging from a Bronze Star for CPL Dawson to a Silver Star for gallantry in action during combat operations against an armed enemy for MAJ Ward.


    Beyond those generalities, nothing else was written about their deaths. The operation itself was as black as night and the Commonwealth would never acknowledge that they had troops on the ground near the sight of an antimatter blast. Tensions were already boiling out of control throughout the solar system, and by the time things settled down a comparatively small explosion in backwoods China was nothing but a footnote in history. The soldiers and what they¡¯d done were lost to the annals of time.


    Literally . . .


    MAJ Ward felt the rustle of grass beneath his head. It prickled his scalp through his short-cropped hair and the itching finally brought him out of his stupor. Years of experience told him not to open his eyes and to fight down the nausea in his gut before trying to sit up.


    ¡°Ugh,¡± he grunted as he breathed in deeply through his nose and out through his mouth. He didn¡¯t remember anything from the prior evening, but it must have been a hell of a night.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    He gingerly rolled to his right and smacked his face right into something hard. He silently cursed himself before opening his eyes as little as possible to get a look. His vision swam and the light felt like needles stabbing through his eyes and into his brain, but even with all the distractions he was able to make out the solid object lying next to him.


    It was his helmet.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± He grabbed the protective headwear and looked at the HUD


    CONNECTION LOST . . . SCANNING FOR SIGNAL . . . SCANNING FOR SIGNAL . . .


    The screen never refreshed beyond that point which was odd. The military satellites in orbit were supposed to get some sort of signal just about everywhere. At a minimum, it should have been getting a hit from the nodes of the invasion of Vladivostok.


    The invasion! Ward sat up so fast that his stomach revolted and he dry heaved a few times. Everything came flooding back to him: Operation Orpheus, the fight through the complex, the spinning rings, CPL Dawson going down, and then . . .


    ¡°Why am I still alive?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure this constitutes as alive, Sir.¡± A groggy voice stated from a few yards away. ¡°Feels like a bloody elephant sat on my skull.¡±


    CSGT McGee sat up not far from the MAJ. Ward could have sworn he saw the NCO¡¯s face bathed in fire and light before everything went black, but sitting here in this place made him reconsider a lot of things.


    ¡°If you¡¯re there and I¡¯m here then . . .¡± he pointed to their ten o¡¯clock.


    Sure enough, more groans could be heard in the bushes. That¡¯s when the MAJ took a good look at their surroundings. They weren¡¯t in an underground cavern surrounded by the enemy garrison, mad scientists, and supercomputers anymore. They looked to be in a forested area, and not the type of forest you¡¯d find in China. In was a coniferous forest judging by the maples, oaks, and pine trees surrounding them. It reminded him a lot of where he¡¯d grown up in New England.


    ¡°We need to get accountability.¡± The MAJ struggled to his feet. His vision was starting to get better, but his legs felt like Jelly. ¡°Where¡¯s my rifle?¡±


    A Ranger never went anywhere on the battlefield without his rifle, and until he knew what the hell was going on, this was a battlefield. He found his M18 lying in the grass only a few feet away. That grass was knee-high so it was hard to see it until he was standing.


    ¡°Whoever owns this land could mow the grass every once and a while.¡± He grumbled as he heaved the double-barreled weapon and reattached it to his sling strap before he started walking toward where he thought the rest of his team would be.


    PO2 Chambers and LT Thrumball were both on their knees dry heaving into the grass. Not far behind them lay the body of CPL Dawson. The LT¡¯s quick synopsis of Dawson going down had been right on the mark. The young marine had taken a shot to the head. His helmet hadn¡¯t been able to take the heat or energy of the blast. It had fused to his skull and melted a good portion of face right off. It was a shitty way to die.


    ¡°Everyone on me.¡± The MAJ took a knee and the CSGT trotted over to join them.


    ¡°Anyone else feel like they drank a whole keg.¡± Chambers grimaced, as he opened and closed his jaw to relieve some unseen pain.


    ¡°It feels like someone is playing the tambourine between my ears.¡± The LT shook his head and pinched his nose between his fingers.


    ¡°First things first, check for anymore survivors: Dr. Shaw, the Japanese captain, the scientists, or anyone else who can explain what the hell happened.¡± He pointed behind him. ¡°LT, look for the females. Everyone else spread out and take a sector.¡± They quickly divided up the space in front of them into three equal areas of responsibility and moved forward.


    They didn¡¯t have to move far before they found something. What remained of the garrison force looked like they were doing what the MAJ¡¯s team had just completed, plus something else. They were stripping down to simple, ragged clothing.


    The MAJ didn¡¯t hesitate. He didn¡¯t have his helmet¡¯s advanced optics, but he¡¯d trained on nothing but an iron sight for just this occasion. He aimed so the cross was right on the man he determined to be the leader and pulled the trigger. A large hole punched through the man¡¯s chest and showered the rest of the men in blood.


    The enemy were veterans of the same war the MAJ had been fighting, so they organized quickly, but fell back.


    ¡°What are they doing?!¡± Chambers asked as bullets broke off chunks of tree trunks while laser blasts cut right through them.


    ¡°It looks like they¡¯re retreating, the bunch of cowardly bastards.¡± The CSGT poured on the fire and took down two more before they slid behind a hill. ¡°I count four left. Should we pursue?¡±


    The MAJ looked around. Despite the familiar feel of the forest he didn¡¯t recognize it, and it didn¡¯t fit any of the terrain topography or satellite imagery he¡¯d studied before the operation. He¡¯d also heard some horror stories of how the Easterners tortured their prisoners of war, and he had to wonder if they¡¯d been captured and this was some sick game.


    ¡°No. Fall back to the LT¡¯s position. Hopefully the good doctor has some answers for us.¡±


    The LT was only a few hundred yards back. He was down in the prone with Dr. Shaw, Captain Tanaka, and the British spy Cuthbert. The short skirmish with what remained of the garrison had sent bullets and lasers flying too close to their heads. Dr. Shaw was visibly shaken, but that was to be expected. She wasn¡¯t used to other people trying to kill her as part of her job.


    ¡°Did you get them?¡± She asked frantically as they approached.


    The SEAL kept looking behind them to make sure they didn¡¯t take a counterattack up the ass. ¡°We got enough of them,¡± he replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m not asking if you got enough of them you Neanderthal ingrate. I¡¯m asking if you got all of them?!¡± She shrieked, taking everyone by surprise.


    Captain Tanaka came to the rescue by putting a hand on the frantic woman¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, they ran off. You¡¯re safe.¡± Chambers tried to make up for whatever slight she felt he¡¯d inflicted on her.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± the Japanese captain replied in perfect English. ¡°We cannot allow them to escape. If they are able to accomplish their mission everything is in danger.¡±


    ¡°What mission?¡± The MAJ stepped up and took charge again. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡±


    ¡°This is bad. This is really bad.¡± Dr. Shaw started to chew on her fingernails, but forcibly stopped before looking at the soldiers. ¡°Have you ever heard of Einstein¡¯s Theory of Relativity?¡±


    ¡°Of course. . .¡±


    ¡°Who hasn¡¯t. . .¡± were the replies.


    ¡°Do any of you understand it?¡± Dr. Shaw got nothing but silence in response. ¡°Einstein theorized that time flows like a river, bending around things like gravity and mass. This is a contradiction to Newton¡¯s thinking that time was an arrow that once shot flew straight and true.¡±


    ¡°Wait . . . wait . . . wait . . .¡± The CSGT threw up his hands. ¡°Are we talking about time travel?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to be fucking kidding me.¡± The MAJ hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. ¡°Did I just step into the twilight zone?¡±


    ¡°No, Major, I assure you that you did not. Time travel has been theorized and proven possible for over two hundred years. One day mankind might travel freely throughout time. We might evolve to become four-dimensional beings instead of existing in our current three-dimensional thought process.¡± Her eyes filled with zeal. ¡°The only thing that has been standing in our way was the lack of technology and power to complete the process.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t believe it,¡± the CSGT stated.


    ¡°Ok,¡± the doctor took that as a challenge. ¡°You military men always have paper. Someone give me some.¡±


    The MAJ pulled out a little notepad he kept in his pocket and ripped off a sheet for her.


    ¡°Ok,¡± she drew a line on the paper. ¡°This is a basic representation of time. To a two-dimensional person standing at one point it would look like it was linear and only moving forward. To us as three-dimensional beings we see the line, but we see it from beginning to end, and we can even,¡± she folded the paper in half so the lines met, ¡°change it.¡± She smiled at the CSGT who still didn¡¯t get it.


    ¡°You have to look at this from a four-dimensional perspective.¡± She took her pen and poked a hole in the paper before unfolding it. Now, there were two holes on the paper at the beginning and end of the line.


    ¡°That is what we did.¡± She pointed at the hole. ¡°We broke a hole in space and time to make a bridge between the past and the present.¡± She crumpled up the paper with a flourish to complete her explanation.


    ¡°That seems too simple to be true.¡± Chambers was squinting into the distance, and brought his rifle up to get a better look.


    ¡°It¡¯s a gross oversimplification.¡± She waved off the argument. ¡°The calculations necessary took all of those supercomputers in the lab, some of the brightest minds in the Eastern Block, and enough power to . . .¡± she stopped like she¡¯d just realized something.


    ¡°You!¡± She pointed at the CSGT. ¡°You did this!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a loon. Sir, she¡¯s a fucking loon.¡± The CSGT looked at the MAJ for assistance. ¡°I did not make us time travel, if that¡¯s what even happened.¡±


    ¡°The explosions.¡± Dr. Shaw was talking to herself now. ¡°We didn¡¯t have the power requirements on any of the previous tests, but the explosion must have pushed it past critical mass. Then it sucked us through the rip in space-time before the explosion could kill us.¡± The look on her face was an eureka moment if there ever was one. ¡°If only there was a way to duplicate the experiment.¡±


    ¡°Everyone, we need to move.¡± Chambers had his rifle trained on something in the distance. ¡°We¡¯re going to have company in about five minutes.¡±


    ¡°Hostiles?¡± The MAJ put on his helmet and brought up his own rifle.


    He exited the menu that continued to remind him there was no connectivity, and instead linked with the scope of his weapon. It zoomed in and gave him a crisp, clear picture of what was coming their way.


    ¡°Sir, it looks like women.¡±


    A gaggle of young women were moving perpendicular to their location on some type of game trail. They were wearing long dresses in muted colors that went all the way to their feet. The MAJ had only seen that kind of clothing in period TV dramas and at tourist destinations like Colonial Williamsburg.


    Unfortunately, it backed the Doctor¡¯s time travel story.


    ¡°Major, we need to find out where we are and what time we¡¯re in. It will give us the key to discovering the enemy¡¯s mission.¡± The doctor pleaded as the women drew closer and closer. They hadn¡¯t spotted the group of soldiers yet.


    ¡°Ok, but I want minimal contact, just me and the doctor. Everyone else,¡± he scanned the terrain, ¡°give me an OP on that ridge back there. Maybe we can figure out where to go after we talk to these people.¡±


    ¡°Take off your helmet and armor, Major. We are already conspicuous enough.¡±


    ¡°Ha!¡± the MAJ gave a short laugh. ¡°I¡¯ll lose the helmet but the armor is staying on.¡± He removed his helmet and handed Chambers his helmet and rifle.¡± He patted his holstered sidearm when the SEAL gave him a quizzical look.


    After all, they were going to talk to a bunch of young girls. The tallest of which hardly reached the big Ranger¡¯s chest. If they were Eastern Block assassins then he¡¯d accept his death with dignity.


    ¡°After you, Doc.¡± He stepped aside for her to lead the way. The woman would probably be less intimidating to the women. There were definitely different standards in whatever time they were in.


    If they were in a different time he reminded himself.


    ¡°Cover me.¡± He whispered to the LT as they hurried across the forest to intercept the women.


    When they reached the group of girls they were only three hundred yards away ¨C more than close enough to be covered by the M18 or L96A1.


    ¡°Hello.¡± Dr. Swan stepped out from behind a tree in front of the women and nearly scared them half to death. The MAJ stood behind the tree out of sight.


    ¡°Good day, Madame.¡± They took a look at the doctor¡¯s nicer clothes and made the assumption she was a woman of means.


    ¡°I seem to be lost.¡± She tried to act nervous, but her excitement from the interaction was ruining it. ¡°Could you tell me where we are?¡±


    ¡°Just north of Boston. The road to the city is not far behind us. We are here to do laundry. We beg your pardon if we have trespassed on your land.¡± There was genuine fear in the women¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°No. You¡¯re not in trouble. Thank you for the information.¡± She tried to reassure them. ¡°Also,¡± she asked before they scurried off. ¡°I have been traveling for a long while. What is the date?¡±


    ¡°The eighteenth of April in the year of our lord seventeen hundred and seventy-five.¡± The girls gave the information and quickly left.


    The MAJ frowned. April 18, 1775, the date meant something to him, but he just couldn¡¯t figure out what. He thought about it all the way back to the observation post the team was securing.


    ¡°Sir?¡± The LT asked when they walked into the small camp. He must have noticed the confused look on his superior¡¯s face.


    ¡°Do you want the good news or the bad news?¡± The MAJ rubbed his eyes and gave up digging for what that date meant.


    ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned none of this is good news.¡± The LT gestured around them.


    The MAJ chuckled. ¡°Well, the good news is that we¡¯re just north of Boston.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s great news.¡± Chambers chimed in. ¡°I could use a good meal. They¡¯ve got a great DFAC.¡± The SEAL grinned.


    ¡°That brings me to the bad news.¡± The MAJ paused to think of the best way to put this. ¡°To start, we are still in enemy territory.¡± That got a lot of confused looks. ¡°We, ladies and gentlemen, have found ourselves in the late eighteenth century, seventeen seventy-five to be exact.¡±


    Recognition dawned on just about everyone¡¯s faces.


    ¡°Ah bloody hell.¡± The CSGT summed it all up eloquently. ¡°Doesn¡¯t the war with America start tomorrow?¡±


    It was like a lightbulb went off in the MAJ¡¯s head. ¡°April eighteenth!¡± Everyone looked at him with confusion. ¡°April eighteenth!¡± He repeated.


    ¡°You said that the first time.¡± Dr. Shaw frowned. ¡°We don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡± The MAJ organized his thoughts.


    He¡¯d studied military history at the War College when first being promoted to major, and was a little embarrassed that the date hadn¡¯t immediately been clear to him.


    ¡°The night of April eighteenth is Paul Revere¡¯s ride.¡±


    ¡°That arse in all the movies who¡¯s yelling about the British coming?¡± The CSGT shook his head.


    ¡°Exactly, but that¡¯s not how it went at all, and he never actually said that.¡± A grin split the MAJ¡¯s face. ¡°Revere and other riders awaited a signal from the Old North Church to determine how the Redcoats were going to advance. Revere and William Dawes set out by different routes to Lexington to warn people along the way. They met up with Samuel Prescott, and he was the only one who actually made it to Concord to warn the Revolution¡¯s leaders. Revere was captured by a British patrol and Dawes was thrown from his horse.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a great bit of history, but what good does it do us?¡± Dr. Shaw sat with her head in her hands.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I was about to ask you¡­?¡± The MAJ¡¯s and every other eye turned to look at her.

 Part 4

    ¡°What?¡± Dr. Shaw took a step back from all the eyes focused on her.


    ¡°Dr. Shaw, you spent god only knows how long working with the Easterners to build and perfect that device, so what was their grand plan? What did they hope to accomplish by coming back in time? Why did they pick today?¡±


    Everyone realized how stupid that sounded, but it was the reality they had to live with now. Most of them were soldiers and used to adapting to the situation. That skill served them well.


    ¡°Well . . . um . . .¡± the doctor struggled for words. ¡°There are multiple theories concerning this issue, and none of them are testable without a way to return back to the present to verify them; which is not possible.¡± She made that clear.


    MAJ Ward would have been lying if he wished there were a way to get back home, but he wasn¡¯t an idiot. He knew that whatever happened in 2141 couldn¡¯t be recreated in 1775. They were stuck here forever and they needed to make the best of it. That reality steeled his will and let him look to the future.


    ¡°The first theory, and the theory they hoped was correct, was that what happened in the past would change the future. Their goal was to weaken the Commonwealth, or maybe even destroy it.¡± She shook her head as she said this.


    ¡°You don¡¯t agree?¡± The MAJ thought through their situation and the dangers it presented.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have the data to agree or disagree! All of us just being here could change everything!¡± Her face was back in her hands.


    The seven of them just stood there silently and took in the whole situation. It was a fucked up situation, but it was their fucked up situation to deal with, so the MAJ did what an officer did best: he made a plan.


    ¡°I think I know what they are doing, and I know what our mission is.¡± He stated calmly after a few minutes. ¡°They¡¯re here at this point in history to threaten the founding of the United States. That¡¯s the only explanation for coming back to seventeen seventy-five. Without the United States there is no Commonwealth, and without the Commonwealth the Eastern Block has no significant opposition.¡± Six heads nodded as he spoke. It made sense.


    ¡°Our mission is to head to the Old North Church and secure it against enemy incursion.¡±


    ¡°The Church?¡± This time it was Cuthbert that spoke up. As a spy, the MAJ hoped he would be able to come to the same conclusion.


    ¡°With no signal, or an incorrect signal, being given to the riders the word will not go out to the minutemen to marshal at the Lexington green and oppose the Redcoats. Without any opposition there will be no battle to kick off this war.¡±


    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± Cuthbert scratched his chin. ¡°We¡¯re setting the stage so our countrymen can slaughter each other?¡±


    The MAJ didn¡¯t like the look in the intelligence officer¡¯s eye, but he couldn¡¯t deny the validity of the question.


    ¡°Sir, we are ensuring that history happens the way it¡¯s supposed to, so get ready to move.¡±


    There was only a little hesitation from the man before he complied, and with that done they moved onto other more practical concerns. As a group, they couldn¡¯t walk into eighteenth century Boston without being the greatest thing since sliced bread. That would make the Redcoats come calling, and it would end up with a lot of dead people who shouldn¡¯t die. Dr. Shaw didn¡¯t have to explain the ripple effect that would have on the future. People that were supposed to be born would never get born. Things that changed lives for better or worse would never happen. It would fuck up everything, and for all they knew one of their great great great great grandfathers might be one of those guys.


    The MAJ, LT, CSGT, and Cuthbert would only be conspicuous by their size and clothing. Most men of the time didn¡¯t have the upbringing and training the soldiers had been through all their lives. They were all taller, stronger, and healthier looking than an eighteenth century man. The MAJ¡¯s six and a half feet and two hundred and fifty pounds was going to draw attention automatically.


    Dr. Shaw was a woman ¨C a very smart woman ¨C in a time when woman were only meant to maintain the home. The MAJ had only been with her for a short time, but he already saw that was going to be a problem. The only thing going for her was being a tall, healthy looking white woman. They could pass her off as an aristocrat or at least a wealthy merchant¡¯s wife.


    Captain Tanaka and PO2 Chambers were the real problems. The MAJ doubted there was another Asian in Boston at this time, much less a woman. They¡¯d need to do something about that. She couldn¡¯t go anywhere without drawing attention. Lastly, Chambers was just as big, strong, and healthy as the rest of the men. He was also black, and slavery wasn¡¯t going to be outlawed for another ninety years. He¡¯d just gone from the racial equality of the mid-twenty second century to the backwards thinking of revolutionary America. Even worse, the SEAL didn¡¯t strike the MAJ as a ¡°taking shit from others¡± kind of guy. A lot of stupid white people could get killed with just a few words that were socially acceptable in this time and place.


    ¡°We need to inventory everything. Let¡¯s do a full layout.¡± The MAJ put aside the social concerns of their new situation and looked toward the material ones.


    The experienced soldiers had their gear unpacked and laid out in a well-rehearsed order in a few minutes. Even with fewer supplies the two spies took much longer. The MAJ had everyone take a count so he could tabulate how bad their situation was.


    ¡°All battery packs are charged at one hundred percent.¡± He couldn¡¯t hide the surprise in his voice, but he wasn¡¯t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. With them at a full charge they¡¯d be able to take on a full battalion before running dry.


    ¡°There¡¯s no electricity here, so we¡¯ll have to rely on solar charges.¡±


    Groans went up from the soldiers. As far as solar technology had come in the last century, it would still take a day of good sunshine to charge the powerful rifles.


    ¡°Between all of us we¡¯ve got forty-three hundred rounds for the rifles, and another eight hundred for the pistols. We¡¯ll divide them evenly between us. Use it sparingly, we won¡¯t be getting anymore.¡±


    Even using lasers was going to have to be done sparingly. Lasers were invisible to the naked eye. The HUD of their helmets tinted the beams of light red so they could see where they were firing, but even wearing helmets to fire was unconventional at this time. It was greatly reducing their tactical options.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Captain Tanaka was lucky didn¡¯t have to split her ammunition. The Japanese Defense Force didn¡¯t use the same ammunition standards as the Commonwealth. She was only armed with a pistol and three hundred rounds, but she got to keep it all.¡±


    ¡°Six more MREs, a few hundred bucks in cash, and our basic combat loads.¡± He closed his eyes and sighed.


    They hadn¡¯t brought more food because it was a quick in-and-out mission, and if they didn¡¯t make it out food was the least of their worries. Someone had over packed¨C probably the CSGT if the MAJ was betting on it ¨C but even rationing they didn¡¯t have more than a few days¡¯ worth. The paper dollars and pounds were useless. The MAJ¡¯s knowledge on the time period was mainly military, but he¡¯d picked up enough of the social to remember that hard currency ruled the day.


    They could probably barter with some of their gears more useless trinkets, but they were all broke. It was a new feeling for a man who¡¯d been in the army since graduating West Point. Since he was eighteen the army had provided everything for him: food, clothing, shelter, rules to live by, and standards of discipline . . . everything. This was a scary new world for several reasons.


    Despite all of that, the MAJ had a mission and that was all he needed. The rest he could figure out along the way.


    ¡°Everyone put your helmets in your packs. Disguise your rifles as best you can, and only use pistols if we get into trouble. Anyone we come up against is going to have shit accuracy after about twenty yards. Even most of their rifles couldn¡¯t hit the broadside of a barn, so don¡¯t panic, just aim and pull the trigger.¡± He was talking to the spies more than the soldiers. He didn¡¯t know how much combat they¡¯d seen. ¡°We also need new clothes.¡±


    Now it made sense why the enemy was dressing down into those rags. It would allow them to blend in. All of the Commonwealth soldiers were wearing fabric made of smart materials. They regulated body temperature, wicked away sweat, and even kept the smell bearable. They were hot in the winter and cool in the summer. They were the best thing to hit the army since the invention of the gun, but their green and brown camouflage looked alien compared to the crisp uniforms worn by colonial soldiers.


    Dr. Shaw and Tanaka were in civilian clothes, but it didn¡¯t help their case much. The standards of dress were still radically different. The only one who came close was Cuthbert. He was still wearing his prison rags. They were a weird style, but after months and captivity they were run down enough that he could pass as a weary traveler.


    Before they even went there he had to deal with Tanaka. ¡°Colour Sergeant, hand me the flesh mask.¡±


    The man bitched about giving up his only one, but he did it after a stern glance from LT Thrumball. A flesh mask was a necessity of spy craft. A plastic-like substance imbued with nanites ¨C small robots that could rework the plastic into a preprogrammed shape. Unfortunately for the Japanese woman, the only preprogramed versions were the ones saved in the English NCO¡¯s armor.


    The armor¡¯s computer held a petabyte of space for personal use. Most of the MAJ¡¯s was taken up with military history books, his own diaries of the war, and other personal items. The MAJ feared what he would find if he dug too deep in the CSGT¡¯s data, but thankfully the flesh mask information was easy to find. After fixing the uncomfortable contraption to the woman¡¯s face she looked like a freckle-faced Irishwoman, which did not at all go with her jet-black hair, but the MAJ would take what he could get.


    They crammed their packs full of whatever they didn¡¯t want to carry with their hands and set out for Boston. The good news was that what an eighteenth century person considered far was different than the twenty-second century equivalent. The girls¡¯ claims that they were north of Boston were true, but they were only three miles from the city. They ran at least that during morning PT every day. The trip was nothing, and they needed to get used to walking everywhere. The first car wouldn¡¯t be seen until 1885.


    At an easy pace they reached the city in an hour, if you could call it a city at all. The MAJ had been born in the suburbs outside of Boston, and outside meant halfway to New Hampshire. The Boston Metropolis held nearly twenty-five million people and stretched for nearly thirty miles. The Boston of 1775 was nothing like that. It was a handful of buildings huddled along a piece of land jutting into the harbor. It was nothing compared to the Boston he knew. There couldn¡¯t even be fifteen thousand people living here.


    They¡¯d come south on the road that led to Lexington and that took them through Charlestown to wait for the ferry. It was even smaller than Boston, not even a town in the modern US sense.


    Traffic was light on the dirt-packed road, so it was easy for the MAJ and his team to avoid notice as they requisitioned some new clothes. It was a group of men traveling on horseback who stopped at the urging of a pretty woman in need. None of them were injured beyond a bump on the head, but he still felt bad about it, and about any changes made to the timeline. The clothes didn¡¯t even fit the big MAJ. He had to keep his boots, camo-pants, and was only able to use the loose, white long-sleeved shirt and coat. The coat itself barely passed his belly button and was tight in all the wrong places. He looked ridiculous. The only positive was that it concealed his pistol.


    He made the decision to leave half the team behind on the Charleston side of the harbor. He took the LT and CSGT across with him while the rest of the team watched the packs and their rifles. It made the most sense to leave behind anyone that would draw unwanted attention. Even better, the LT and CSGT were British, so they could ensure they got passed the Redcoats.


    The three soldiers crossed to the north end of Boston just before the sun set.


    British soldiers were everywhere. They marched in the streets, drank in the taverns, and stumbled drunkenly all over the place. The MAJ knew that unrest had been festering for years in the colonies by this point, but as he took in the nightlife you¡¯d never know it. People were just living their lives one tankard of beer at a time.


    It was simpler times. No one was walking around with their heads in their smart devices. Electronics didn¡¯t run the world, information wasn¡¯t available at the push of a button, and not many people cared what was going on more than a dozen miles outside of Boston. Most people didn¡¯t even know what was going on until news reached them weeks or even months later. There was an odd peace to it, and the MAJ was glad he felt that. He was going to have to get used to it.


    The Old North Church loomed ahead of them. It was one of the largest buildings in the area. It was meant to be seen, which was the whole point of tonight. There were three patriots that the team needed to be on the lookout for. The church sexton ¨C the maintenance man/groundskeeper ¨C Robert Newman, Captain John Pulling, and lastly Thomas Bernard the lookout.


    The problem was that they didn¡¯t know what the three men looked like. The MAJ had several books on the Revolutionary War in his personal data, but there were no pictures or descriptions of their targets. Before they could guard the men who would help kick off one of the most influential wars in the history of mankind they had to find them.


    The MAJ had done a lot of missions in his military career, and protection details were one of them. He knew how to pick out guys acting strangely or weren¡¯t supposed to be there. Constant vigilance had kept him alive in more than one assassination attempt, and he assumed the SAS officer and Royal Marine had similar experiences.


    ¡°Lieutenant, I want you to focus on Bernard. Keep an eye on things out here and let us know if shit goes sideways.¡± The one piece of technology ¨C aside from the pistols ¨C that the MAJ was unwilling to go without was communications gear. The flesh-colored earbuds of the short rang comms were more than good enough to handle this mission.


    ¡°Colour Sergeant, you and I will take the interior and look for Pulling and Newman.¡±


    ¡°Sir, you should probably call me by something other than Colour Sergeant if we¡¯re about to go into a den of Patriots who hate the British.¡± The CSGT offered with a grin.


    ¡°Good point, William.¡±


    ¡°Call me Willy, Sir. William sounds like my father.¡±


    ¡°Ok, Willy. Call me Tom.¡±


    With a nod to the LT, and a quick look around to make sure there weren¡¯t too many British troops present, Tom and Willy crossed the muddy street toward the church.

 Part 5

    Lieutenant Allen Thrumball was born to a working-class mother and father just outside London. He¡¯d done well in secondary school, was a talented athlete, but he¡¯d never been good enough to get scholarships to apply to university. His parents didn¡¯t have the finances to help, and there was a growing unease in the country about the expansion of the countries in Asia and Eastern Europe. So, like many other Englishmen and women in a time of crisis, he joined the Army.


    What Allen lacked in scholastic aptitude or athletics he made up for in soldiering. He rose rapidly through the ranks to sergeant before the merger of his country with the Americans became official. With the Army¡¯s backing, he attended an American college online, graduated, accepted a commission as an officer, and was deemed worthy of service in His Majesties Special Air Services. He¡¯d been a soldier for many years, and done cross training with units like Major Ward¡¯s Rangers and Petty Officer Chambers¡¯ SEALs, but this was only his second mission as an officer.


    Allen couldn¡¯t help but think about how things were playing out as he sat on a street corner opposite the Old North Church. His education on the American¡¯s war for independence was nonexistent, aside from knowing it was one of many wars the British Empire was fighting at the time. He had to bow to the wisdom of Major Ward on this matter. Not only because of his knowledge, but because he was still the senior Commonwealth officer and in command.


    The thought that the Commonwealth wouldn¡¯t even come into existence for centuries had crossed the young officer¡¯s mind, but it hardly mattered. He knew nothing of this time or place, and after seeing the MAJ in action, he wasn¡¯t particularly inclined to start anything that he¡¯d later regret.


    That brought him to his current mission. He was searching for Thomas Bernard without knowing who the man was or what he looked like. All he knew was what the MAJ had told him. Luckily, Allen had done a few details with the American Secret Service when the President came to speak with the Prime Minister when the talks for formalizing the Commonwealth Charter were underway.


    He¡¯d been on the periphery of the security cordon ¨C mostly watching people from rooftops with a high-powered rifle ¨C but the tidbits of information the attached agents had given him were priceless.


    It was tough to look inconspicuous just standing on a street corner, and there wasn¡¯t a tablet or phone to pull out and fiddle with to look busy. He noticed a few soldiers walking the streets give him a curious look, so he tipped the hat he¡¯d stolen in their direction and moved out of sight. Once around the corner, he slid his hand into his jacket and sought the reassurance of his pistol. He removed it from its holster and slid his hand into the opposite pocket, grabbed the silencer, and quickly screwed it on the muzzle. The silencer would reduce the velocity of the bullet, but it was more than enough to take down unarmored soldiers if they got too suspicious.


    He peeked back around the corner. The soldiers were still holding their position, but were facing the other direction. He scanned the scene and looked for anything out of the ordinary. He watched people¡¯s hands to make sure they weren¡¯t in their pockets carrying a weapon. He looked at people¡¯s eyes. People who were scanning the area were usually up to something.


    He stopped and reminded himself the man he was looking for wasn¡¯t a trained operative or assassin. He was a scared man who wanted to warn his people about how the enemy soldiers were going to attack.


    Allen found his target when he stopped in front of the church and two other men headed around back. He was an unremarkable-looking man, with a piggish-nose, and eyes that flitted around the area. They lingered too long on the soldiers, but the Redcoats were still looking in the wrong direction.


    Allen used his jacket to conceal his pistol as he pointed it from the hip in the man¡¯s direction. One pull of the trigger and he could change this war and world history. That was not the kind of responsibility he wanted, so he kept his eyes on the street looking for danger. He needed to make sure no one alerted the soldiers to what the American patriots were up to.


    ¡°Target acquired.¡± He sent the message to his teammates and waited.


    He didn¡¯t have to wait long.


    The area wasn¡¯t crowded by twenty-second century standards, but there was a steady stream of people moving back and forth. He kept an eye on all of them, and discarded them as threats one by one. So, it came as a surprise when another average-looking man walked past Bernard and deftly stabbed the American in the throat.


    Bernard was just as stunned as Allen. His hand shot up to stem the bleeding, but it was already too late. The knife had severed the jugular and he would bleed out quickly.


    ¡°Shit.¡± Allen reacted.


    His first shot was fired from the hip. He was used to his HUD¡¯s aiming features and not having them was making him careless. Silencers didn¡¯t truly silence a weapon firing, but it made it much softer. The bullet striking the brick of the church as it flew past the assassin wasn¡¯t soft at all.


    The assassin was good. He didn¡¯t stop to see who was shooting at him, he just started walking at a brisk place for the nearest cover. He turned to provide the smallest profile possible in the direction the shot had come from. Allen begrudgingly respected the man. The Easterners had sent capable soldiers to end the Commonwealth threat against them.


    Fortunately, Allen was pretty good at his job. He resisted the urge to charge into the crowded street, stepped back out of sight of the soldiers, brought his pistol up into a proper stance, aimed, and fired. The shot was from thirty meters away in a rapidly clearing crowd ¨C they¡¯d seen the bleeding man and heard the crack of the first bullet ¨C so he got a full view of the round drilling through the side of the man¡¯s head and leaving a gaping exit wound. Blood and brains splattered the side of the building as the assassin slumped to the ground very dead.


    Allen quickly lowered the gun and hid it in the folds of his jacket. ¡°Bernard¡¯s down. You¡¯ve got hostiles incoming. One tango down. I¡¯m Oscar-Mike.¡± He sent the terse message as he turned and walked away from the church.


    The soldiers were hurrying toward Bernard and the dead assassin. Soon they¡¯d shut down the surrounding area and search for the culprits. Allen would be long gone, but the MAJ and CSGT were still inside.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    He wished them good luck as he turned the corner onto another block. They had a designated rally point in an alley not far from here. He¡¯d wait there until morning. If they didn¡¯t come he¡¯d head back across the harbor to Charlestown and regroup with the rest of the team. After that, they¡¯d just have to figure everything out for themselves.


    ***


    Colour Sergeant William McGee was known by many names. The marines in his unit who didn¡¯t call him fire-crotch called him Willy the Fish, because he could drink like one. As far as anyone knew, he held the battalion¡¯s record for alcohol consumption. It was a term of endearment, but that wasn¡¯t how most people saw him throughout his early life. The most common name yelled at him was ¡°ye little shit¡±.


    Willy had grown up wild. He¡¯d never known his birth parents, and he¡¯d bounced through the system for fifteen years before landing with someone who didn¡¯t take his shit anymore. He wasn¡¯t Dad to Willy, he was the Old Man, and he was a tough old bastard. A former Royal Marine, Willy¡¯s foster father had taught him as much discipline as was legally allowed outside the military. The man taught Willy how to fight, how to read the room, and how to say stupid shit without someone wanting to beat your ass for it. Although, Willy thought he had that down already.


    Ultimately, he¡¯d joined the Royal Marines because of the Old Man. If he was being honest with himself, the Old Man had saved his life. Sure, joining the marines had almost gotten his ass shot off half a dozen times, but he was still kicking. Now he was kicking in the door of an eighteenth century church in the eighteenth century. Life was weird.


    Willy went right while the MAJ went left. They advanced down the side aisles and cleared each pew. They moved with a purpose, because speed was their only advantage here. They were horribly exposed.


    ¡°Clear.¡± The MAJ had longer legs and finished his sweep five seconds before Willy.


    ¡°Clear,¡± he echoed and placed the gun back inside his coat. He didn¡¯t want to scare the locals who would be coming by soon to make history.


    They found some cover to hide behind and waited . . . and waited . . .  and waited. A loud crack was the only reprieve from them hiding behind heavy curtains like a couple of thieves.


    ¡°Bernard¡¯s down. You¡¯ve got hostiles incoming. One tango down. I¡¯m Oscar-Mike.¡± The LT¡¯s voice came over the comms.


    ¡°Redcoats are going to be in here any minute.¡± The MAJ grunted as they hurried from their hiding spots toward the back doors.


    They just hoped the American Patriots got those lanterns into the tower or whatever it was they were here to ensure happened. Willy didn¡¯t care much about English history, so he cared even less about American History. They made it to the rear wooden door, opened it, and nearly stepped on two dead bodies slumped on the steps. They had multiple stab marks with blood leaking out of their chests and necks that he could see.


    ¡°Shit.¡± The MAJ looked around, and saw two men walking calmly away from them about fifty yards away.


    The men looked back and locked eyes with the MAJ.


    ¡°I¡¯d venture to guess these are Pulling and Newman.¡± Willy tried to keep the smart-ass out of his tone, but it was hard.


    ¡°Move!¡± The MAJ grabbed Willy and pulled him back inside the church just as rounds started cracking into the plaster where his head used to be. ¡°Take two lanterns up to the steeple and leave them displayed for a few seconds. That¡¯s all the time the Patriots need to send the signal to Revere. Go! I¡¯ll hold them off.¡±


    Willy didn¡¯t even stop to contemplate that this couldn¡¯t possibly be how history turned out, but he knew orders when he heard them. He rushed to the stairs and even took a couple of seconds to lock the front door on the way. He was only halfway to the stairs when banging and shouts to open the door in the name of the King started coming from the other side.


    He didn¡¯t have time for that. He heard more cracks of silenced rounds smacking into the church and knew he needed to hurry. He was in great shape, so running up the short distance to the steeple didn¡¯t even have him breathing heavy.


    He cursed for a few seconds trying to find the lanterns and then for something to light them. There was plenty of oil lying around, but the tinderbox was hidden. He hadn¡¯t smoked since he moved into the Old Man¡¯s house. He laughed at the irony before he found the supplies he needed. It took him thirty seconds to light the lanterns with the antiquated materials before bringing them over toward the window. Then he froze.


    He had no idea which side to put them on, and he didn¡¯t have time to think about it. The sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs was all the warning he had. He stuck the two lanterns on the sill, and whipped around to meet the newcomers. He was expecting to see redcoats with their big, awkward muskets pointed at him, but instead a short man vaulted off the last step and launched himself toward Willy.


    A gleam caught the lantern-light and gave him the split second he needed to avoid the knife. He twisted, but it still cut a deep gash across his forearm. He didn¡¯t have time to curse as the stinging pain worked its way through his whole body before the man was all over him.


    The guy was fast. A few punches and kicks landed before Willy even knew what was happening. One made him crumble down to his knees, and he was barely able to get his arms up to avoid a knee to the face that would have broken his nose. He was in a shit position and he knew it. The only silver lining was the guy didn¡¯t hit nearly as hard as some of his mates, so he was still in the fight. When he caught an opening he launched himself at the attacker. He caught a punch to the chin, but he powered through it. One hand grabbed the man¡¯s cheap jacket and the other raked his face. As he dug his fingers in, Willy felt the flesh mask dislodge and slide off in his hand.


    ¡°Fucking wanker!¡± he growled as the Chinese agent threw a powerful kick at his head.


    He ducked under it and sprang up with the full power of his legs. He caught the assassin hard in the upper-chest and they both went sprawling. The tackle caused them to knock both lanterns onto the floor. The weak glass shattered and fire crept onto the wood.


    He didn¡¯t have time to think about it as both men struggled for position. Willy ended up on top in the man¡¯s guard. He rained down a few punches, but the man caught and trapped one of his arms.


    Willy knew the man was going for the triangle choke. He was already lodging Willy¡¯s arm against his throat while using his legs to increase pressure on the back and side of his neck. Willy had been choked out on more than one occasion by this move, so he knew how to counter it. It was too late to get his arm out of the lock it was in, so he made sure to get his footing right before starting to lift up the man. As predicted, the man tried to grab Willy¡¯s leg and pull it out from under him, but he¡¯d already moved them out of his way.


    Willy was short, but this man was shorter, and that screwed the little assassin. He lifted the man up until he was over his head and then slammed him hard back onto the wooden floor. The wooden boards below them cracked, but the floor held. The wind was knocked out of the little assassin, which allowed Willy to worm out of the hold and get his hand on his gun. In a smooth motion he slid it out of the holster and pointed it at the man¡¯s chest. The man was reaching for his own belt, but he was too slow.


    Willy put three rounds into the guy and he stopped moving.


    The fire was starting to grow and he was standing over a body, but the Royal Marine took a second to catch his breath and massage his throat. He¡¯d have a few bruises from this fight tomorrow. He looked down at the assassin ¨C a worthy opponent ¨C and saw a red light flashing in his hand. Being an expert in demolitions, Willy immediately knew what that was. He didn¡¯t hesitate. He sprinted for the stairs and threw himself headfirst down them.


    He wasn¡¯t concerned about the injuries he¡¯d sustain as the high explosive grenade detonated. It easily destroyed the steeple and showered glass on the crowds gathering on the streets below, but it also hit the extra fuel for the lanterns. The barrels the flammable liquid was in were disintegrated under the pressure wave of the explosion and spewed everywhere.


    Half the Old North Church went up in flames as debris and fire rained down into the city around it.

 Part 6

    MAJ Ward exchanged fire with the two assassins, but it was a futile battle. He popped out of cover randomly low and high to get better shots, but they had the numbers. While one kept the MAJ pinned the other advanced and vice versa, and then there was the banging on the front door. The Redcoats were coming and it was only a matter of time before they broke through.


    The MAJ cursed as he crouched low, left cover, and got a single shot off before rounds ripped into the ruined doorway. One ricocheted and smacked him in the gut where he¡¯d taken the last blast less than twelve hours ago in another time.


    ¡°Damn!¡± He could see they were within twenty yards. ¡°Come on Colour Sergeant.¡±


    Unfortunately, the British beat the Easterners into the church. He heard the door coming loose on its hinges as the soldiers threw their weight into it and it crumbled. Four redcoats streamed into the room and spread out into a line. The MAJ was already on the move. He dove behind the pews to avoid the volley.


    ¡°Fire!¡± The soldier in charge bellowed and muskets went off with a roar.


    Their heavy balls were slow moving, but they still did plenty of damage. Chunks of the pews were blown apart, and if the MAJ hadn¡¯t low-crawled away he would have gotten some nasty splinters. He was a quarter of the way to the pulpet when the Easterners joined the party.


    ¡°You two, halt in the name of the . . .!¡± The soldier never finished as modern, silenced rounds tore into them. They collapsed in a spray of blood.


    The MAJ had a fleeting thought that this wasn¡¯t how it was supposed to go, but it was interrupted by a resounding BOOM. He was already rolling forward into one of the pews to get out of the assassins¡¯ line of fire. He came up in a kneeling position with his pistol raised and ready, but the assassins were already in full retreat. He took a shot, but his bullet buried itself in the wall a few inches from his target¡¯s shoulder before he disappeared through the wrecked door.


    The MAJ didn¡¯t take the time to relax. If anything, his situation was even worse than before. Something had exploded, four soldiers were dead, and he didn¡¯t even know if the CSGT was still alive. He did know he needed to move, and he moved quickly to the wall and along it so he had a good line of sight on both doors. People outside were screaming now, undoubtedly because of the gunfire, but when he got to the foot of the stairs he could see something much worse was on their minds.


    Not only was there a groaning twenty-second century royal marine struggling to get up, but the MAJ could see flames licking at the stairs.


    ¡°Sorry, Sir.¡± The CSGT winced as he struggled to his feet. ¡°I got the lanterns up, but I doubt that¡¯s what anyone is looking at.¡±


    The screams outside solidified into a single word now that he was close enough to the door.


    ¡°FIRE!¡±


    Towns of this time period were primarily made of wood. A fire was a danger to everyone, and every available man would be running to the nearest pumping station to fill their buckets and help. More than one great city had burned down throughout history because a fire got out of control. For the MAJ and CSGT, it offered an opportunity.


    ¡°Come on.¡± The MAJ easily hoisted up the CSGT and headed for the front door. He didn¡¯t dare go out the back with the assassins still unaccounted for.


    They emerged into a growing crowd of men. Dozens were throwing buckets of waters on the flames. A quick look at it and it was clear the church wasn¡¯t going to make it, and the chances of saving the buildings on either side of it were slim. It didn¡¯t look like the fire would spread much further if the men were able to get ahead of it, but nothing was certain.


    The MAJ was in a minor state of shock as he half-carried the CSGT away from the blaze. Men called after them, many of them cursing, but the MAJ didn¡¯t stop. It wasn¡¯t the fight that had shocked him. They¡¯d come as close to victory as they could with those odds, but he¡¯d just changed history. Longfellow would no longer write about the midnight ride of Paul Revere. He¡¯d write about the burning of the Old North Church and the mystery of the men who started it.


    ¡°I¡¯m good, Sir.¡± The CSGT walked under his own power once they¡¯d rounded the corner. ¡°I just busted my gut. Probably broke a rib.¡± The marine seemed to grimace every time he took a breath.


    ¡°We¡¯ll patch you up when we get back across the river.¡± The MAJ¡¯s eyes scanned the area for any threats but didn¡¯t find anything. ¡°Let¡¯s get the Lieutenant.¡±


    The LT was skulking in the shadows of an alley two blocks from the church. You¡¯d actually have to enter the alley¡¯s darkness to see him at this time of night, and if you were an unwanted guest he would have finished you by then.


    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± were his first words when they arrived.


    ¡°Nothing we can change now.¡± The MAJ needed to focus on the present. ¡°We need to get back to the others right away. We¡¯ll discuss it in the AAR.¡±


    The after action review was going to be a weird one. Item number one on list of improves would be to not burn down eighteenth century Boston on the eve of the American Revolution.


    Getting back across the river was more difficult than expected. The ferry didn¡¯t run at night and soldiers guarded the area. The fire helped them in that regard. Dozens of Redcoats were streaming toward the church to help fight the flames, which left only a few to guard the small boats.


    ¡°Excuse me, good Sir.¡± The CSGT limped up to a young man who couldn¡¯t have been much older than twenty.


    The young guard seemed torn between leveling his musket at the CSGT or appearing more helpful to a clearly injured man.


    ¡°You can¡¯t be here.¡± The guard didn¡¯t point the long musket at the CSGT, but he hefted it so he could quickly bring it on target.


    ¡°Apologies, governor. I just wanted to report a crime.¡±


    That piqued the guard¡¯s interest for a second until an arm wrapped around his throat.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to report a robbery,¡± the CSGT continued. ¡°We¡¯re stealing your boat.¡±


    ¡°Get in the boat, Sergeant.¡± The LT hissed as he undid the lines tying it to the dock.


    The MAJ waited until the guard¡¯s body went limp before he let the man slump to the ground. Too many people had already died tonight that shouldn¡¯t have. He and the LT took the two sets of oars and started paddling, while the CSGT provided rear security. Once they were two hundred yards out they all relaxed a little. There was little chance anyone could hit them from that range without using cannons.


    They made it across the small strip of water in what would have been Olympic record time for that day and age. The MAJ had a lot to do with that. He was a big and strong guy, and he¡¯d been that way since birth. Twenty-second century scientists had mapped the human genome by the time the MAJ was born, and they¡¯d developed techniques to tweak the genome in embryos before birth. They couldn¡¯t do anything crazy, but they could eliminate a lot of genetic diseases or weaknesses, so when the MAJ¡¯s parents got pregnant they had the procedures done.


    He came from a military family. His father was a full-bird colonel, and his family had someone serve in every war since the 2020 campaign in Afghanistan. One Ward had even made general. It was a forgone conclusion that Thomas Ward would serve his country just like the rest of his family had for one hundred and twenty years, so they gave him the tools to do it. His strength, dexterity, hand-eye coordination, speed, and intelligence were all built on a foundation of good genes. What had come after that was all because of his hard work and effort, but he had a good canvas to work with.


    ¡°What should we do with the boat?¡± The LT asked when they pulled it ashore just outside of Charlestown.


    ¡°Push it out and sink it. It¡¯s better if they don¡¯t know we¡¯re here.¡± The MAJ¡¯s eyes swept the commotion going on in Charlestown.


    It seemed like the whole town was coming out to see the fire blazing across the river. The small team of soldiers waited for the boat to mostly submerge before heading in to where they¡¯d left Chambers, Cuthbert, Dr. Shaw, and Captain Tanaka.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    They¡¯d rented a room at a small inn, but the MAJ had no intention of staying.


    ¡°Why, Major?¡± Cuthbert bucked at the orders to pack it up. ¡°You completed your mission. The patriots know how the British are going to advance. There is no need for us to go traipsing off to Lexington in the middle of the night.¡±


    The MAJ held his temper before responding to the spy. He was used to having his orders followed with no backtalk. ¡°By my count there are at least two Easterners remaining. For all we know they told the Redcoats about Revere and Dawes. They could even be prisoners by now. We need to head out now so that we can get ahead of the British column and make sure the minutemen are mustering. If there is no one to meet them at the Lexington Green then this war never gets started.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why this is our problem.¡± Cuthbert pushed back again.


    ¡°It¡¯s our problem because we swore oaths to protect and defend the Commonwealth.¡± The MAJ turned on Cuthbert and stepped into his personal space. ¡°We have an obligation to see that history is not altered and puts both or our nations at a disadvantage. Do you understand?¡± The question was a challenge.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the spy answered after a second despite his frown. ¡°I¡¯m just playing devil¡¯s advocate.¡±


    The MAJ doubted it, but he had bigger things to worry about. Saddling horses was not something he had a lot of skill at since riding one into battle was suicide from his perspective. He was able to manage it along with the LT and SEAL PO2. The CSGT and the rest piled into the wagon where the wounded marine and Cuthbert sat in the front while the women took the back. Dr. Shaw worked on wrapping a bandage around the CSGT even as they started off down the road.


    The SEAL looked pissed he had missed all the action, but now that secrecy wasn¡¯t as big an issue the MAJ doubted he¡¯d be on the sidelines for long. They kicked their horses into motion and galloped away from the small city. Speed would be what allowed them to get around the column marching west toward Lexington and Concord. The MAJ knew from his history books that Dawes and Revere were supposed to reach Lexington before the British even stepped off from Lechmere Point, but with the fire and the gun battle at the church he just didn¡¯t know anymore.


    They almost snapped the axel on the wagon carrying half the team while they road hard for their goal, but it miraculously held together. The MAJ, LT, and PO2 felt like they were constantly getting punched in the nuts. None were comfortable on horseback.


    They reached the first town on the road to Lexington and found it dark.


    ¡°Where the hell is Revere?¡± The MAJ was slightly ahead of the rest of the group and sitting in the open square surrounded by a handful of buildings. He was supposed to evade a patrol and head farther north, but he still hadn¡¯t been here.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be good.¡± The LT pulled up his horse beside the MAJ¡¯s.


    The MAJ dismounted and hurried to the closest door. He slammed his fist against it and yelled the thing that made the most sense.


    ¡°Get up! The British are coming. They¡¯re marching on Lexington. Assemble at the Green! To arms!¡±


    The LT and PO2 followed his example. They spent five minutes pounding on doors. Candles were lit and people came to see what all the ruckus was about, but they couldn¡¯t stay.


    ¡°The British are coming! To arms!¡± He yelled one last time before kicking his horse and galloping out of town followed by his team.


    ¡°Sir,¡± the CSGT called from behind him with a tell-tale shit-eating grin on his face. ¡°I thought you said that Revere fellow never said that.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Willy.¡± The MAJ ordered, but he couldn¡¯t stop the smile from spreading across his face.


    He wasn¡¯t just reading history anymore. He was history, but more importantly, he was participating in the growing chain of events that founded the United States of America. It was mind-blowing.


    They stopped at every town and hamlet between Charlestown and Lexington. Once there, he had a decision to make. In the history they¡¯d come from, Prescott made it all the way to Concord to warn Sam Adams and John Hancock of the Redcoats looking to seize their guns and powder. As much as the MAJ wanted to meet those legendary men, he was needed here. He bellowed to a separate group of men on horseback to go to Concord. The MAJ didn¡¯t know any of these men, and they didn¡¯t know him, but a lifetime of command was recognizable in his actions. The other men obeyed his order without hesitation and galloped toward the town a few miles away.


    Men were starting to arrive in numbers at the Green. By the time the sun broke the horizon, and the night¡¯s crazy events came to an end, there were over fifty men standing in staggered ranks. The MAJ and his team weren¡¯t among them. Many of the men had grumbled when he lied about having to ride onward to alert more of the surrounding area, but the glare he gave them silenced their complaints. The aura of command hadn¡¯t changed much in three hundred and sixty-six years. That, or his sheer size scared them into it. He was probably one of the biggest men they¡¯d ever seen.


    The team took up position in the tree line with a semi-obstructed view of the Green. All the soldiers were in full armor now, and were using their technology to its fullest potential.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got hostiles approaching.¡± Chambers was the first to locate the approaching British column.


    They looked every bit the professional army. They marched in step, with flags fluttering in the morning breeze, and drums accompanied by fiddles gave the men motivation. They¡¯d marched fifteen to twenty miles through the night. Through his scope the MAJ could see they looked tired, and he couldn¡¯t blame them, but the coming action seemed to revitalize them.


    ¡°Give me a count.¡± The MAJ asked as he turned his attention to the militiamen.


    They did not look like an army. They looked like a rag tag band of farmers with guns standing between their homes and the most professional fighting force in the world. They couldn¡¯t win this fight. They wouldn¡¯t win this fight, but they would stand up and die for their beliefs.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got seventy-seven militiamen and three hundred and ninety-six Redcoats.¡± The SEAL reported.


    ¡°Three hundred and ninety-six?¡± The MAJ took his eyes off the militiamen and turned toward the PO2. ¡°Count it again.¡±


    ¡°Is something wrong?¡± Dr. Shaw crawled up next to the MAJ.


    The soldiers were in a firing line spaced a solid ten meters apart. The three spies were supposed to be watching their rear. They were armed with pistols, which was more than enough to overcome any force trying to sneak up on them with sheer rate of fire. What they weren¡¯t supposed to be doing was crawling up to talk to the soldiers.


    ¡°Get back to your position, Doctor.¡± The MAJ reprimanded her. He could only see part of her face because of all the data on his HUD, but what he could see told him she wasn¡¯t going to follow his orders like she was supposed to.


    ¡°The militiamen¡¯s numbers are correct, but there should be roughly seven hundred Redcoats. There are only half that many here, which makes me wonder where the other half is. It also makes me want to have people watching my back, which is your job, Doctor, so get back in position now.¡± This time he got through to her. That, or the thought of another three hundred Redcoats sneaking up on them.


    She returned to her position, and the SEAL confirmed the number again.


    ¡°Shit.¡± He kept that to himself as he surveyed the Green.


    The Redcoats were forming up less than a hundred yards from the militiamen. The prevailing infantry tactics of the time were linear. A line of soldiers ¨C a few ranks deep ¨C stood close to one another and fired volleys back and forth. The style of fighting was brought into being by the proliferation of hand guns and the relatively short range of the smooth-bore muskets with their long reload times. Massed formation fire was necessary to shock the enemy by concentrating fire at the center of their line. The goal was to rout the enemy and have them retreat in disarray. Moving a line of troops was very slow, and they¡¯d inevitably lose cohesion, but it was the foundation of armies at the time, and the British were the best in the world.


    It was clearly evident on the Green as the Redcoats formed up. The MAJ saw the SEAL¡¯s targeting laser drift over and lock onto the center of the British officer¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Hold fire.¡± The MAJ¡¯s order was met with grumbling. ¡°We can¡¯t interfere. We need to let this play out.¡±


    The Battle of Lexington played out right in front of their eyes.


    ¡°Thrown down your weapons. Ye villains, ye rebels!¡± The British officer yelled across the battlefield at the militiamen.


    There was clear confusion and fear on the faces of the militiamen. It wasn¡¯t the seven hundred Redcoats history said it was, but it was nearly half that many, and they were still outnumbered the militia more than four to one.


    ¡°Any second now.¡± The MAJ had the whole battlefield in view and was recording. He¡¯d be able to catch who fired first and finally figure out who fired the shot heard around the world.¡±


    The militia commander was seeing the futility of the defense and was ordering his men to disperse when . . .


    A shot, clear and loud rang out through the morning sky . . . and a round punched into the middle of the MAJ¡¯s back.


    ¡°SNIPER!¡± The LT rolled over and sent a stream of fire off into the distance while the rest of the soldiers rolled out of their positions and towards cover.


    The sound of the Redcoats opening fire on the disorganized militiamen was lost in the heat of the battle in the trees.


    ¡°Motherfucker!¡± The MAJ yelled as he rolled away just before a second round struck the ground and sent a fountain of dirt into the air.


    The MAJ didn¡¯t feel his life leaking onto the ground around him, so his armor had stopped the shot, but it hurt like he¡¯d just been kicked by a pissed off horse and his legs were sluggish at best.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got him! Six hundred meters at one hundred and ninety-three degrees,¡± the CSGT zeroed in on the assassin.


    A stream of bullets cut through the New England forest toward the assassin¡¯s known location. The MAJ added his own rate of fire to the onslaught. He¡¯d didn¡¯t know if they got the guy or not, but the sniper fire stopped.


    The musket fire did not. The screams of dead and dying militiamen cut through the air when the M18s and L96A1s were silenced. The MAJ crawled back to his vantage point and got a look at the chaos. The British officer was trying to regain control of his formation, but a thick cloud of smoke ¨C indicating several volleys ¨C was already floating away on the morning breeze. There was a lot less smoke coming from the militiamen and a lot more screams.


    History said that only one Redcoat was injured compared to eight militiamen dead and nine more injured. That looked close to correct. No Redcoats were on the ground, but about twenty percent of the militiamen were down and half weren¡¯t moving. The rest had scattered in retreat.


    The Battle of Lexington was over, but the shot heard around the world hadn¡¯t come from either side. It had been fired by a Chinese sniper at an American major from the future who¡¯d been looking in the wrong direction. That was a hell of an omission from the history books.


    The American Revolution had begun, but the MAJ and his team had a feeling in their guts that things were going to be different this time around.


    That might not be a good thing.