Predators
Chapter Seven: Welcome to the Jungle
I don't own Bioware
"Fighting soldiers from the sky.
Brave men, who jump and die.
Men who mean just what they say.
Those brave men, of the Green Beret."
-Staff Sergeant Barry Sadler, The Ballad of the Green Beret.
DECEMBER 26TH, 2000
FORT BRAGG, NORTH CAROLINA
BACHELOR NCO'S BARRACKS
0530 HOURS
"Fucking Colombians," was Sergeant Mickey Byrne's first declaration of the day as he regained consciousness, the incessant beep coming from the table informed him that his clock just didn't care how late he had stayed out drinking. "Just couldn't fucking accept that they couldn't outdrink an Irishman could they?"
Sitting up, he winced as a spike of pain jarred through the centre of his brain. Pulling himself from the couch, he staggered toward the small kitchen, retrieved an ice pack, some aspirin, and then turned to the intercom.
=This is Byrne= he groaned, alerting the Mess Sergeant that somebody needed to recover. =Coffee, strong, black. Ham, three egg omelette, hash browns. I'll be down in fifteen minutes=
Walking to the bedroom door, he tapped politely several times. "Come on little brother. We've got a big day today. Grab breakfast, then we drive over to the airport for pre-mission brief and gear prep."
There was no answer. Mickey frowned and pounded on the door with a balled fist. "Sean, get up or I'll come in there and..."
The door opened quickly and Mickey was rendered speechless. Instead of his twin brother, a very buxome blonde with full lips, blue eyes and incredibly long legs, wearing nothing but a revealing set of white lace underwear. She smiled politely at the short haired trooper, then slipped past him. On her way to the door of Mickey's quarters, she retrieved a white blouse and skirt from the floor. The blouse had the insignia of a Navy Petty Officer Second Class.
Mickey slowly rotated his head back to the bedroom. Sean appeared, dressed in black boxers and an undershirt. He grinned cheerfully at his brother. "Sorry Mickey, was up all night."
While Mickey was only older by five minutes, he always assumed the 'big brother' role to Sean. That meant, when necessary, congratulating him on his exploits. In this case, those congratulations were well and truly earned.
"With a girl like that, I should hope so," he winked roguishly. "You'd be no brother of mine if..."
He trailed off as a second woman appeared in the doorway behind Sean. A dark skinned, dark eyed Latino with three stripes on her unbuttoned fatigue jacket. Giving Sean an affectionate kiss on the cheek, she also headed for the door, pausing for a few seconds to pull on her trousers. Mickey's eyes were so wide he was afraid they'd pop out of his head.
"That's not fair," were the only words he was capable of. "You drank twice as much as me, stayed at the bar twice as long drinking with the Colombians and you not only get laid, you pick up two girls? While drunk?"
"Well, you know what Dad used to say," Sean swaggered toward the bathroom. "Either you got it, or you ain't."
He whistled a tune as he shut the door and started up the shower. It was 'When Irish Eyes are Smiling'.
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
MARRIED PERSONNEL HOUSING AREA
Carlos had resolved that he would slip out without waking his family. He'd never been good at saying 'goodbye'. He preferred to skip it whenever possible. Rising with the sun, 'Bandito' quickly showered, shaved and dressed in casual civilian clothing. He'd change into fatigues before the flight.
Maria and the children had slept through his morning activities. It had been a busy Christmas Day, filled with water fighters, lunch with Pixie and Shepard, settling down in the evening to watch some of the new movies on the VHS. Then after the kids were in bed...Carlos couldn't help but smile despite himself. He and Maria wanted about seven or eight kids. Both came from large families, it was a half Spanish, half Catholic instinct built into them. The desire to care for, and be surrounded by happy, laughing children.
Carlos had a gut feeling that Number 4 had come into existence during the night's activities.
Finishing his morning coffee, Carlos quickly washed the dishes, then picked up his carry bag and headed for the door. He was almost there when Maria stepped out of the bedroom, dashed across the hallway and grabbed him, clad only in a silk dressing gown.
"How many times have I told you not to sneak out of your own home like a thief?" she whispered in his ear.
"I don't like drawing attention to myself," he smiled back at her, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as his hands undid the front of her robe. "I prefer to infiltrate, say my hellos, say my goodbyes, and then disappear into the night."
"I don't think we've said 'goodbye' nearly enough times," Maria growled, tugging aggressively at his shirt, pulling him back toward the bedroom.
Carlos couldn't help a laugh. Well...the plane wasn't leaving till tonight. Today was just briefing and mission prep. He could afford to be late, he had time to...
"Daddy, Daddy!"
...aaaaaannnnnddd he didn't.
Two year old Rosa staggered out of the bedroom she shared with Little Maria. The youngest Estevez had shown a knack for escaping from every cot or play pen that she was contained in.
"Good morning Little Rose," Carlos swept her up in a bear hug, as Maria, cheeks still flushed, retied her dressing gown. "How are you this fine day?"
"Fwine," Rosa wrapped her arms around his neck. "Do you have to go 'way Daddy?"
"Just for a little while," Carlos reassured her. "Can you be a big girl for Mama?"
"Sure," Rosa suddenly turned shy, reaching for Maria, who accepted her into her own arms. Elizabeth and Little Maria came out of their rooms, rubbing sleep from their eyes. They wanted their own goodbyes as well.
Ahh, to hell with it, Carlos decided. "Come on everyone. Into the kitchen, I'm making pancakes for breakfast."
He had time.
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
Brian handed Pixie his jacket. The teenager seemed withdrawn this morning, he didn't meet his father's eyes as he handed him his travel bag. "Mom packed you some cold turkey sandwiches, enough for Chris and Sean and the guys. There's some chocolate as well. You know, for when you need something sweet."
"Your mother's an angel," Jack laughed. "It's a long flight to where we're heading."
"Where are you heading Dad?"
"Can't say. Classified." Pixie could tell what was coming next. "Brian, while I'm gone, you're the man of the house. So if you've got something you want to say, you just come right out and say it."
"You said you were gonna take that instructor's position over at Fort Benning," Brian burst out. "Dad, you're closer to fifty than forty. The whole damn base is filled with Green Berets, why'd you have to take this one?"
"Damn, this is deep thinking from a kid," Pixie mused. "Maybe if..."
"Dad, I'm not a kid anymore," his son insisted. "You're the one that always says I have to be the man of the house. Well that's not fair. You've had your glory days, you've put in your time for America Dad, you should be thinking about your family now."
Reluctantly, Jack looked his son in the eye. "You're right. It's not fair. I'll call in a favour with the Colonel. He'll get another medic sent out to the AO. I'll be back in a few weeks, instead of a few months. Then we'll take that transfer to Benning, and you and I can go camping."
"Thanks Dad," Brian paused again. "There was something else I wanted to talk to you about. You're not going to like it."
"You've spoken your mind so far," Pixie rested a hand on his son's shoulder. "Go ahead."
He did and he was right. Pixie did not like what he had to say.
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
BASE CHAPEL
Lieutenant Hector Lancero knelt in the pew, staring up at the altar. Since the night before, he had felt a curious build up of sensations in his stomach. They made him nervous, uneasy. As much as he hated to admit it, he was afraid. Afraid of dying, afraid of what the cartels would do to him if they caught him, but most of all afraid of failing. Of letting down his men in the heat of battle, allowing them to be slaughtered. He had not been tested in the crucible of war, he had no idea of how he would react under fire.
There was movement beside him, and another man knelt in the pew. "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all Captain," Hector looked at Toland. "You are a Catholic as well?"
"Not the strictest sense of the word," Toland shook his head. "I believe in God though. Heaven, Hell, all that stuff. Didn't used to, but once I got shot at enough times, I figured there had to be somebody watching over me."
"He protects those who fight in his name," Hector agreed. For a while, they sat in silence. Finally Hector's curiosity got the better of him. "If you don't mind me asking sir, what did you do the first time you got shot at?"
"As soon as the first bullet went past my head, I wet myself," Toland replied frankly. "But my training kicked in, I got my rifle up and started shooting back, went into automated mode. Won myself a nice little ribbon for that particular war. The next time was when my chalk skirmished with the Republican Guards back in '91. I stayed in control that time, I was responsible for my squad, had to stay level headed, keep them alive. You worried?"
"Scared shitless."
"Don't be," Toland advised. "No one's judging you out there. I don't mind if the first thing you do once the druggies start shooting is to throw yourself on the ground and start praying, just as long as you're not there for longer than ten seconds."
"I'll remember that," Lancero stared back at the altar. "You know, back home, the land holds such promise. You plant something, it will grow. We make the finest coffee in the world, and with a little development, we could expand our economy into something truly stable and reliable. Instead, the word 'Colombia' is almost synonymous with 'cocaine'."
"Not for much longer, if we do our jobs right," Bob stood from the row. "This is just the start Lieutenant. It's a brave new millennium we're facing. Thirty years ago we put a man on the moon, in another thirty we might have colony there. It all depends on what we do right now, to advance our species."
"You are eloquent when the mood strikes you sir," Lancero followed him out of the chapel.
"You should hear Chris when he gets going. I think giving speeches must be a trait of the Shepard family" Toland laughed as he opened the door on his Corvette. "Well Lieutenant, shall we?"
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
Shepard had his head propped up on a pillow, staring into his wife's eyes. Both his and her hands were placed on her swelled stomach, feeling the movement of their son within her.
"He's coming soon," Angela smiled. "Just like a Shepard, itching for action."
Chris grinned. "And just like a Shepard, he's gonna learn that sometimes it's better to stay put."
The sound of the rest of the base waking up drifted through the window. A car door slammed, a child laughed, in the distance a helicopter lifted off. Reluctantly sitting upright, Chris began pulling on his boots.
"Here," Angela removed a small silver crucifix and a delicate chain from around her neck. "I want you to take this."
"Honey, you know I don't believe in that stuff," Chris finished doing up his laces. "If I'm coming home, it'll be because I'm faster on the draw than the guys we're going up against."
"Maybe it's not a case of you believing in him, but if he believes in you," looping the chain around his neck, she secured the clasp. "It can't hurt."
"I guess you're right," he leaned back over to kiss her again. "But I'll be back. For him, and for you. You can take that to the bank."
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
FAYETTEVILLE REGIONAL AIRPORT
NORTH CAROLINA
HANGAR SEVEN
1415 HOURS
The hangar was large, no doubt about that. Cavernous in every aspect. However, the effect was somewhat reduced by the presence of a Boeing 747 painted in the colours of Pan-America Airways. Inside the cargo bay, a group of safety inspectors were checking the hatch, making sure that the crewmember inside would be able to safely open it for the egress of the strike team, and then close it again after they had jumped.
Underneath the wing of the jumbo, the team was assembled. Twelve men, one woman. If Toland had been superstitious, the thirteen man squad would have worried him. He wasn't, so it didn't.
"Local CIA assets have placed infrared beacons around our LZ here," Toland gestured to the map behind him. "This clearing is well off the beaten track. Cartels don't patrol all their territory, just the occupied parts. The risks of being spotted landing are low. Once we're assembled, we bury our chutes and hike to our Lay Up Point for the night and sleep during the morning. Come afternoon tomorrow, we go to work."
"What's our first target Cap?" Bulldog was the first to ask a question.
"We're going to head for this small bush airfield, designated Checkpoint VIPER," Bob answered. "When we get there, we'll conceal ourselves and wait for up to twelve hours for any targets of opportunity that may appear. Word of advice, stack up on C4, we'll be using a lot of it."
Carlos' face immediately split into a huge grin. Explosives. He loved them almost as much as his family. He couldn't help it. Such beautiful destruction, and he got paid to do it.
"General Waters?" Toland nodded toward the Marine. He had taken a liking to the man. Waters had been there, done it all and got the t-shirt to prove it. Hardcore...for a leatherneck. The general stepped forward.
"You men have been handpicked for this task," his steely eyes swept the seated fighters. "For too long, these bastards have pumped our society full of their poison. No longer. You will beard the lion in his den. You are going to show them the consequences of fucking with the United States of America. They've enjoyed years of profiting from misery. Well, we're Old Scrooge himself, come to collect the debt they owe. They consider themselves royalty, ruling over the peons that they force into service. Those days are drawing to an end."
The Green Berets began nodding in acknowledgment. Waters continued his speech. "This isn't some humanitarian peacekeeping mission. We are going down there to kill these bastards in their sleep. We're going to pay them back, blood for blood, life for life. For every poor dumb teenager that OD'd on that shit. For every piece of sorrow and misery, broken families and drug money killings. This is a reckoning."
"Hell yeah sir!" Shepard called from the back. "Let's hit them where they live."
Waters lifted his hand up in a rigid salute. "Godspeed, and good luck to you all."
"Atten-hut!" Toland snarled. The entire team snapped to attention as Toland returned the salute. The general beckoned him to follow as he walked toward his staff car. Colonel Lenau stayed a few paces back.
"Lenau and myself will be flying to the Pentagon this afternoon," Waters revealed. "We'll be running this thing from the main operations centre. Your satellite encryption gear has been sorted out. You'll have twenty four hour access to our COMSAT array."
"If things get messy, can we count on air support?"
Waters nodded. "Limited, but still available. The Enterprise and the John F. Kennedy will be engaging in fleet exercises over the next few weeks. Their F-18's can give you some air cover, but they'll be restricted to light ordinance. I'm not authorising a napalm strike on Colombian territory."
"I'll make it a point to avoid those situations sir," Toland shook the general's hand. Waters stepped into his car. Leaning out, he smiled at the captain.
"I'll see you in four months. Go get 'em."
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
"What now?" Sean looked around at his team mates.
"Still got hours till mission time," Alice moved toward the bed rolls. "I'm going to grab some sleep while I still can."
Chris began to field strip his M-16. "I'll sleep when I know everything's going to go fine. Otherwise, I'll be sleeping when I'm dead."
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
TRIUNE ENTERPRISES VESSEL
MSV CRAFTY TRADER
JUST ENTERING THE SOL SYSTEM
"We will infiltrate in the early hours of the morning," Wrex instructed the hunters. "During a gap in their primitive radar system. We will use a small shuttle for the drop off. The quarian will co-ordinate all our technology. I plan to engage these 'Green Berets' in battle tomorrow morning, when they are tired. A small attack to start with, just to get the hunt flowing. They will run, we will chase, they will die."
"Nice and simple," T'Livia ran a finger along the edge of her sword. "Almost doesn't seem fair. Those primitive weapons of theirs will be nearly useless. The projectiles don't travel at a tenth of the velocity necessary to penetrate a barrier."
"We are menat to kill them, not the other way around," Xidam grunted. "Uncle, might I claim the honour of first kill? I fell ready for it."
"Time alone will tell if you are ready," Wrex reproved him. "But you may engage them first if that is your wish."
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
PAN AMERICA FLIGHT 314
SOMEWHERE OVER MEXICO
"Reminds me of the one oh one," Mickey called to Sean as they lay curled up on the floor of the luggage bay. "Those were fun times."
"Yeah, up in the morning, out of the rack and into the C-130 to jump into the unknown. Really fun," Sean replied sarcastically. Alice sat up from her space.
"You boys were Airborne?"
"Sure thing," Mickey was still cheerful. "Screaming Eagles, I did thirty seven jumps. Sean pulled off forty. How 'bout you?"
"One hundred and eighty nine," Alice leaned back with a satisfied smile. "All of them into combat zones."
Nearer to the door, Toland felt a sense of satisfaction spread through him. He had just the right amount of bullshit, testosterone, oestrogen and unadulterated lethality on this team to take on the whole fucking universe.
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
"Credit for your thoughts?" T'Livia questioned Wrex as the ship zoomed past a massive red planet.
"This human leader, 'Captain Toland'," Wrex tapped the dossier in front of him. "Not for centuries have I met a Battlemaster equal to myself. Someone intelligent enough to negotiate traps and prepare ambushes. Strong enough to defeat any opponent. And charismatic enough to assemble an unstoppable team."
"Arrogance Wrex?" She was more amused than anything else.
"My grandfather said that it is not arrogance if it is true," Wrex growled. "But this Toland? He leads with the authority of experience. If he were krogan, he would be a chieftain."
"Experience and leadership cannot win out against superior firepower," T'Livia twirled one of her blades. "I can personally guarantee you that neither Captain Toland or his team will live out the week."
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
Toland stood at the exit to the cargo bay. Now was his final call. If he made the decision to abort the mission, then that would be the end of it. His word was final. The hatch would be sealed again, they would fly back on the return trip to America, the teams would go back to their homes. It would probably spell the end of Toland's career, but he, and all his team, would still be alive.
Toland never backed down. From anything.
Stepping out into the night sky, he plummeted toward the surface, gravity playing it's undefeatable game.
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
TRIUNE TOWER
ILIUM, NOS ASTRA
PENTHOUSE SUITE
"Oh goody," Keira rubbed her hands together as she stared at the screen. "This is going to be such fun!"
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
Alice hit the ground with as much grace as she could muster. No sooner had her legs made impact with the forest floor, then she dived into a roll to break her fall. Hands planted apart, drop onto the right shoulder and roll to the opposite hip. Fall broken.
Staggering slightly, Alice found herself staring up at the sky. Her sub-conscious kicked in, running through a mental checklist Bones? All together. Blood? Still inside her body. Brain? Slightly scrambled but nothing new. Weapons? Still strabbed to her body.
Alice was ready to rock.
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
It took ten minutes to assemble the team and bury the chutes. When it was done, Toland gave a questioning look to Ducky. The scout didn't even need a compass, just glided into the scrub, leading the fire team toward the LUP.
It was here that Alice noticed something about the team. Back in her time fighting through the jungles of Vietnam, there had been two kinds of people. Those like her and Tom, who jumped right off the chopper and into the scrub, and the other kind. The other kind would look back at the chopper until it had vanished over the horizon. Not Alice, she knew where the job was, and it wasn't back on the UH-1.
None of the strike team even bothered to look at the fading shape of the 747. They too, knew where the job was, and where the fight was to be found.
The Green Berets had arrived.
LBLBLBLBLBLBLBLBLB
A/N: Apologies for the long wait. I had a theology essay due in that was absolutely kicking my arse. Then I had to help the guys at Uni set up some stuff for the shed that we're building for the new Student Common Room. If any asshole ever tells me that spreading gravel is easy, I'm going to kick his arse six ways till Saturday.
BTW! Ashley and Kaidan have been confirmed as squad mates for ME3, and I practically went through the roof with my FIST PUMP OF AWESOME! Then I saw the picture of Ashley with her hair down, also official artwork from the game, and I fangasmed. Even the Talimancers on Bioware Social Network are interested in Ashley's new look.
Now if you will excuse me, I'm going ice skating.