DISCLAIMER: I do not own 'Resistance Fall of Man' or any aspect of the franchise. This piece has been written purely as a work of imaginative fan-fiction and the title, its rights and intellectual property belong to Insomniac Games and Sony. I make NO profits from this piece whatsoever.
Resistance Fall of Man:
Fall of the West
Chapter Three: Tall Tales
Robert sat in his chair thinking about everything agent Watson had told him, his mind reeling. The C-69 was now flying high over the Atlantic, the sky above darkening as the evening drew in. The steady drone of the engines calmed his thoughts as he digested the facts, his mind trying to assess what he'd been told. He looked down at the cup of coffee that rested on the tray on his lap. The ripples on the surface of the brown liquid betrayed the aircraft's motion, the jolting turbulence making the journey noticeably rougher than his last trip from the United Kingdom to America.
"I bet it's raining when we land. It's rained every time I've had to go to England." Rene Myers draped a woolen blanket over her knees, wrapping it around her as she moved position on her chair. Agent Watson had returned to the pilot's cabin several hours earlier and was in communication with the White House and Pentagon via a secure radio link.
"Yes…it'll probably be raining." Granger's own voice sounded distant to him as he struggled to arrange what Watson had said into believable sentences and phrases. He shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts, pushing Myer's small-talk to the back of his mind. "So…let me get this straight. The Russian army is fighting a battle in a small region of the country against an unknown enemy. Your sources say several northern towns are burning and that the countryside is slowly filling up with terrified refugees."
Myers nodded. "Yes…that's correct."
"You're also telling me that you have a report…a reliable report…that told you a squadron of T-34 tanks and heavy infantry was engaged in a battle with…with a group of strange walking machines?"
Once again, Rene Myers nodded. "Yes…but this is unconfirmed so far. The source is reliable, despite what you may think of the report itself."
He picked up the plastic cup and sipped at the strong coffee. It was still warm and the sugar was a welcome treat. "You're also telling me that several towns were supposedly struck by some kind of missile system…and then the inhabitants were attacked by…by swarms of insects?"
"That's the latest report we have, yes. Several small towns in the north have been found deserted too. There was no sign of the inhabitants or their bodies. It was as if they just…disappeared…walked off into the forest or something." Rene Myers rubbed her hands together then blew into them. "I hate traveling in these things. They never get the temperature right." She watched him finishing off his cup of coffee. "You should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day."
"Insects…? Who the hell sends you these reports?" He laughed, shaking his head. The whole thing sounded completely ridiculous. "I think you need to find yourself new sources."
"Well you have to keep in mind that these reports may not be wholly accurate." She adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. "For example, we know that Russia has been experimenting with chemical and biological weapons. It could be the case that these reports have been fuelled by panic and the use of hallucinogenic chemicals. You can imagine the panic if Russia launched missiles with similar warheads into our crowded American cities?" She looked at him meaningfully, pausing to allow the image to sink into his mind. "A weapons system like that would disable America's ability to defend itself on day one."
He shrugged. "Well yes…but what about what Watson said about those Eskimos and their 'devil men'?"
Myers shook her head, her studious face failing to hide her frustration with him. "They're not Eskimos. They are the Tungus people…a small ethnic group in Russia."
"Okay, okay Tungus people then…whatever. Is he trying to say that they were attacked by monsters of some sort?" Granger laughed, handing his empty cup and tray to a smartly dressed blonde stewardess. "Because if he wants me to swallow that yarn, then he'd better throw in another bottle of rum before we land." He openly watched the woman's long legs as she walked down the aisle carrying his tray.
Myers shot him another disapproving look and shook her head. "The Tungus translation was roughly similar to 'devil men'…I wouldn't pay too much attention to that either. Again, that could simply be panic…perhaps they were attacked by troops dressed in Arctic combat equipment? Or perhaps they were exposed to mind altering chemicals? Remember, these reports are quite random and sketchy. What we do know is that there is some sort of small-scale conflict going on in Russia. This has been the case for nearly a week. The Czar and his government have confirmed nothing so far, but we are pressing them diplomatically. What concerns us most is the possible use of chemical weapons, especially those that can be fired via missile. This could be a direct threat to us, as I've explained. Additionally, a destabilised Russia could cause problems for Europe as a whole…the last thing we want is for it to spark off another Great War."
"You'll forgive me for saying that all this sounds more than far fetched…it's completely insane…I think you've disrupted my leave for nothing." His thoughts turned back to Maria and the warm bed they'd shared in the Texas hotel room. "You're just wasting everybody's time."
"On the contrary…a main part of your mission is to see if you can spot static or transportable ballistic missile systems. Since Germany developed the V1 and V2 systems, Russia has copied the technology…we even think they may have improved on the range, explosive yield and accuracy too. Your flight will take you over several suspected missile sites. So, as you can see, there is far more to this than wild speculation and tall tales. "
He looked out of the window, the sea below now invisible behind the impenetrable darkness of night all around them. There was no way he could get out of this mission…not now. The best thing he could do was to complete it successfully, hope to stay alive and get the hell back to Texas as soon as possible. He turned towards Myers. "Fine…wake me up when we get there." He leaned back into the chair sullenly and closed his heavy eyes, wondering why Maria was still in the back of his mind.
* * * *
The rain descended in sheets from the stormy night sky when the door of the C-69 was opened by the smiling stewardess. The cold wet air blew into the passenger compartment of the aircraft, chilling it and sucking out the warmth instantly.
Agent Watson led the way, a full-length black raincoat and hat protecting him from the worst of the downpour. Robert followed behind Watson, wearing his brown leather flying jacket and Myers followed behind them both, clutching her suitcase and cardboard files of documents in her arms.
They walked hurriedly across the soaking concrete runway, the shadowy sleek outlines of three Gloster Meteor fighters visible outside a huge aircraft hangar in the middle distance. A second hangar was open, revealing a crew working on a late model Spitfire fighter. Robert saw the men dismantling the huge oily piston engine with assorted tools, a bank of flickering electric bulbs illuminating the whole hangar like a nativity scene. The crackling tinny sound of Frank Sinatra singing 'Fools Rush In' drifted through the rain from the mouth of the building. The disembodied song came from a small cheap wireless plugged into a socket next to the working men.
"Don't you just love summertime in England eh?" Watson looked back at Myers, the ghost of a smile on his wide sardonic face.
Robert thought that agent Watson resembled a big Irish New York beat-cop, his broad shoulders and splayed nose making him something of a stereotype. His movements were those of a lumbering bear, almost seeming to drag his feet lethargically through the dancing puddles as the rain lashed down around him.
Agent Myers was fully occupied in balancing the cardboard files in her arms while carrying the suitcase, at the same time as trying to keep everything relatively dry. She had to stand still as she attempted to rub the rain off her glasses with her free hand, muttering curses under her breath.
A small man in a charcoal suit enthusiastically waved over at them from the doorway of a nearby building, beckoning them towards him. He was partly hidden beneath a black umbrella, the rain audibly drumming on its taut fabric. On reaching the wooden building the man introduced himself as Mr. Miller, adding, somewhat ambiguously, that he was a representative of the British government.
Watson shook his hand, Miller's small digits disappearing completely inside the bigger man's huge paw-like grip. "I'm agent Watson. This is agent Myers and this is…"
"The infamous Robert Granger…Colonel Granger, to be exact." Mr. Miller's voice was several octaves higher than Watson's deep growl, his quick flitting eyes and narrow pointed face reminding Robert of a ferret. After shaking hands with Watson, Miller shook hands with Rene Myers, taking a second or two to appraise her. It looked as if Miller hadn't anticipated the presence of a woman in their group. When he addressed Robert, he didn't offer out his small pale skinned hand a third time. "I've read your file Colonel…quite an entertaining read, if I may say so myself." Miller laughed, looking at Watson and Myers as if he'd cracked a funny joke and was waiting for their anticipated laughter.
Robert hated Miller instantly and distrusted him even more than he disliked him. He imagined that the small man's handshake would be limp and mildly damp, a moistness that had little to do with the weather. Such a handshake would define the man perfectly. "So, who did you say you worked for again?"
Miller smiled, the gesture lacking any warmth or good feeling. "The British government old boy…that's all you need to know. Official secrets and all that…" He shuffled his small feet nervously and gestured towards the weathered wooden door. "Do come in…make yourselves at home…the kettle is on and I have a pot of Earl Grey on the go." He pulled down his umbrella, shaking the moisture off it vigorously as he unlocked the door.
After each being offered a cup of tea, they were escorted into a well-equipped living area and sat down in high-backed leather Chesterfield armchairs. Miller sat facing them, offering a tin of digestive biscuits around. "Well, we were expecting you…we received your encrypted communication several days ago and the aircraft are fully prepared. We are always happy to accommodate our American friends." He laughed to himself, turning to face agent Watson, who was helping himself to a third biscuit.
"So…when do I get to see your plane then?" Robert glared at Miller, seeing through the smaller man's hospitality and fake smiles.
Miller stopped smiling as he faced Robert, fully aware of the other man's hostility. "Oh I think we can give you a full briefing in an hour or so. Our boys are refueling your aircraft as we speak. That rocket fuel is pretty volatile stuff."
Rene Myers sipped her tea, noisily blowing into the white china cup in order to cool it down. "Mr. Miller…we are hoping to take off tomorrow morning. Is everything in place for the mission?" She glanced from Watson to Miller as the smaller man nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes Miss Myers…everything is ready as requested. The B-29 crew is assembled and the security at this facility has been trebled since we received your communication."
Watson nodded. "Good. We should get things going here as soon as possible. When we were flying over the Atlantic the President's advisor informed me that the Germans are moving troops over to their eastern border. These troops are being backed up by Tiger III tanks, Go-229 and Me-262 fighters and batteries of V1 and V2 rockets. It looks as if their intelligence agencies have heard the rumors too. The faster we can find out what's going on in Russia, the better."
* * * *
The hangar that housed the B-29 was immense and stood at the centre of the base, surrounded by clusters of smaller buildings and administration offices. The vast sliding doors at the front of the structure were guarded by four soldiers, each wearing waterproof shawls and carrying EM-2 'Janson' rifles. A huge olive-green Mk3 Centurion tank sat by the side of the hangar as the rain bounced relentlessly off its thick armour plate. Several more soldiers stood next to it smoking cigarettes. When they saw Miller approaching them, they quickly threw their glowing roll-ups into the dark puddles and stood stiffly to attention.
"Open the hangar." Miller gestured towards the door with a lazy motion of his pallid hand and one of the soldiers ran over to a small hut. Once inside he pulled a lever and the huge doors made a deep metallic groaning noise. For a second nothing seemed to happen then, by small degrees, the doors pulled apart, sliding to each side on sturdy steel wheels.
Banks of fluorescent lights flickered on once the doors opened up, displaying the huge aircraft inside. The B-29 stood tall on a lengthened and strengthened undercarriage, its long sleek aluminium body standing some ten feet higher than it would normally do from the concrete floor. The huge wings spanned half the hangar's width, the small rivets holding the metal panels together glinting under the bright electric lighting.
Both Myers and Watson stared in awe at the smaller aircraft that was attached beneath the converted bomber. The colour pictures they had seen in the files hardly did it justice.
"Project 'Ares'…in the flesh, so to speak." Miller smiled and gestured towards the aircraft dramatically. He looked towards Robert, his narrow pale eyes giving away some of the distaste he felt for his fellow Englishman. "Your trusty steed Colonel."
Robert walked towards it slowly, his eyes taking in each altered angle and dimension. He glanced at the matt-black swept back wings, which were considerably larger in area than those on the regular X-1. Beneath these wings there were lengthy torpedo-shaped black drop-tanks. These added greatly to the volume of fuel the aircraft could carry, as did the new delta-shaped wing configuration. The nose of the aircraft was longer and sleeker than on the standard X-1 and obviously housed some sort of powerful radar equipment. A long metallic tube protruded from the nose of the aircraft and Robert recognized it instantly. It was an in-flight re-fuelling probe, the same design that he had been testing back in Texas! He turned to Miller and pointed to strips of metal that lined the edges of the wings and the new swept back tail-fin. "What's that? Looks like you've had to strengthen the wings."
Miller nodded. "That, old boy, is titanium. Yes, the wings are thicker and much stronger than on your regular bird. This thing is built to manoeuvre as well as fly fast in straight lines. As you can see, there is a cannon housed in the base of each wing…two inch caliber weapons." He pointed up to the protruding barrel tips. He then pointed to numerous rails under the wings. "These are your ordinance hard-points…four under each wing. You might encounter some resistance, so we will, of course, be arming you accordingly."
Robert laughed darkly. "That's always reassuring to know."
Miller quickly ushered them all to the rear of the aircraft and pointed upwards. "As you can see, the airframe is longer than the standard X-1. This is in order to enlarge the internal fuel tanks to increase range. You may also observe that the 'Ares' has two engine nozzles, as opposed to the single nozzle on the X-1. It has two heavily modified XLR-11-RM3 engines installed. These are more efficient and powerful…they're also more robust than the version you are familiar with."
Robert nodded, trying not to look as impressed as he felt with the incredible machine. "I take it this is going to be a long flight? Russia is huge…I'll need this re-fuelling probe for sure."
Miller grinned broadly, as if he were relishing this moment. "To get where you're going, you are going to have to re-fuel over Russia several times, yes."
Robert shook his head and took a step backwards in disbelief. "No way…no damn way!...you're insane…who the hell is going to re-fuel me over Russia?"
"Allow me to interject at this point…If you're mad enough to help us out with this, I think you deserve some straight answers." The loud male voice came from above them, its depth and power echoing around the vast chamber. Watson, Miller and Myers looked up as a tall, slender elegantly dressed man descended from a metal gantry high above. Robert watched the man approach them slowly, his expensive designer jacket slung casually over his shoulder. As he drew closer he seemed to get taller, his actual height seeming to be around six and a half feet. His dark neatly cut hair was punctuated with streaks of grey and his moustache was immaculately groomed.
Robert recognized him instantly, but he couldn't believe his eyes. He had only seen the man in newspapers and magazines on a few rare occasions, but there was no mistaking him. Despite his reclusive reputation, he was a man recognized around the globe.
The smiling man walked up to Robert and offered him his large hand, a hand that wore a brown kid-leather driving glove. "Since I'm funding this project, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Howard Hughes."
* * * *
Hughes glanced at the CIA agents and said, "Look…I'll brief him from here…I think at this point he should know exactly what we know." Myers nodded like a chastised school-girl and Watson just looked sullen, taking a step backwards. Miller simply nodded in agreement with the billionaire.
"Okay Mr. Hughes…how am I going to get this fuel over Russia?" Robert looked up into the older man's face.
"I have friends in the Russian Empire…contacts inside their air force who are loyal to me, with the help of a little 'financial incentive' of course. They will meet you at pre-arranged locations and will re-fuel you via a converted cargo plane. We know you've had experience in the in-flight re-fueling programme under the US air force. This should be easy for you…you just dock with the Russian aircraft…they top you up and you go on your way."
Robert shook his head and turned away from them. "You're bloody mad…all of you. It's my life on the line here and you can count me out…" He turned to walk away, but two of the guards who stood behind him raised the barrels of their EM-2 rifles. The weapons were aimed directly at his chest. He stopped dead in his tracks, shock spreading outwards from his rapidly beating heart, chilling the flesh of his face. He raised his arms slowly in the air.
Miller's voice came from behind him, a tone of relaxed amusement underpinning his words. "Look Colonel…perhaps you misunderstood me when I said you were going to carry out this mission. The area you will overfly is remote…you are the man for this job and…"
Hughes put a gloved hand on Miller's narrow shoulder, a sign that the smaller man should stop talking immediately. Miller was not a man to disobey such a wealthy employer and stopped half way through his sentence. Hughes' tone was both calm and reassuring as he spoke. "What Mr. Miller is trying to say, Robert, is that this mission is vital to global security. We need you and the skills you can bring to this enterprise. You will also be handsomely rewarded for your effort…I can guarantee you of that, since I'll be signing the cheque." His smile broadened.
Robert turned to face Hughes slowly, anger blazing beneath his dark eyes. His voice was measured and deceptively calm when he spoke. "I'm guessing that this mission is about far more than missile sites."
Agent Myers stepped towards him, her large hazel eyes looking into Robert's face. She then looked up at Hughes as if asking for permission to speak and the billionaire nodded his consent. "You could say that Colonel. There could be a lot more at stake than chemical weapons or even our own lives…a lot more."
"You'll have to tell me more…if I'm putting my life on the line, I need to know more about what's going on." Robert looked cautiously at the agents, Miller and the still smiling Howard Hughes.
Myers opened her mouth to speak, but Watson talked over her. "You just need to carry out the mission Colonel! Nothing more. Use the damn cameras in the nose of that thing and bring the footage and pictures back. You don't have the clearance to know any more…" Watson took a packet of American cigarettes out of the pocket of his coat, but Hughes raised his hand cautiously.
"No agent Watson…please refrain from smoking in here. Rocket fuel has a low flash-point." He pointed up at the 'Ares' and raised his eye-brows as if telling off a naughty child.
Watson grunted and returned the unopened packet to his pocket.
Hughes sighed and shook his head, turning to Watson. "I think your temper is as volatile as the rocket fuel agent Watson. I think that you should return to Washington in the morning and brief you superiors in the CIA about today's events. I'm sure my good friend the Director will agree with me on this. Miss Myers will stay on here at the base as my personal assistant." He gestured towards Rene with one gloved hand.
Agent Watson opened his mouth as if he were going to protest, but Hughes spoke first. "Mr. Miller. Could you escort agent Watson to his quarters please. He'll be leaving on an early flight."
Miller nodded enthusiastically and walked the glaring Watson outside under the cover of his umbrella.
Hughes turned towards Rene. "Now Miss Myers, I think you were in the process of giving Mr. Granger more information…please continue."
Rene nodded nervously and coughed before speaking. She felt she was getting a feel for Robert Granger. Giving the man a little of the truth might well be enough to ensure his full co-operation. He was rash, emotional and impulsive…reckless even, but he was far from stupid. She was still reeling about Howard Hughes packing off Watson back to Washington so soon. "We think there is some sort of force staging an invasion in that region of Russia."
"You've already told me this. What sort of 'force' are you talking about? Be more specific…where are they from?" Robert glared at the younger woman. He felt tired inside. Every time he'd ever been involved with government agents, it always got complex. He didn't like complex, as a rule. He'd devoted much of his life in the pursuit of 'easy'…failing that, 'simple' or 'effortless' would do nicely.
"A hostile force…of unknown origin." Agent Myers shuffled her feet and looked back at Watson. Her answer was 'safe' and thoughtfully spoken, but she felt that it might appease Granger for the time being. "We don't know where they're from or their capabilities. That's why we need you to overfly the area. The Russians are giving us nothing to go on, but we do know they have engaged the enemy several times in the last few days."
Robert considered her answer for several moments, the young soldiers still aiming their weapons directly at him. There was no way he was going to get the complete truth from these people. That much was obvious. He shrugged and laughed bitterly. "What the hell…all I ever seem to get is hostility anyway…if they're shooting at me at least I know their intentions…unlike you agency arse-holes. Fine…okay…I'll fly this damn thing and get all your bloody pictures. Then, I want you to pay me and then leave me the hell alone." He glared defiantly at the soldiers and Howard Hughes raised his hand. Instantly, the rifles were lowered.
"Thank you Colonel. I am reassured knowing you are 'on side'." Hughes nodded. "We'll have to get you ready tomorrow morning. The necessary maps are in your room, as are the manuals for the onboard systems you're not familiar with in 'Ares'. Thankfully, that's not too much home-work for you…" His smile was almost good-natured, but it was obvious that there was a lot more going through his guarded mind than he was letting on. He turned to Rene. "Could you escort the Colonel to his new quarters?"
She nodded, stepping forward to lead the way back to the accommodation block.
Howard Hughes stood next to the 'Ares' jet, watching the impulsive pilot and the CIA agent walk out into the ominous darkness. His good natured smile had vanished.