Chapter 10 Ar Riyad Blues
"That was some fine work, Rashid," Howard said over the vid-connection. Despite assuring the security of the link, Rashid still had Chan ready on the kill switch, poised to hit it at the slightest sign of a trace. And, despite being closer than both the moon and most colonies, the transmission was slightly distorted.
"I've been going over s*bzzzzzt*-eports, and we're pretty impressed." The screen cut to a still of a man laying dead on the street. "This one from bullet wounds in a drive by." Another still, this one of a man shot in the side of the head. "This one in what appeared to be an alleyway mugging." A final still, showing an aerial view of the Derring mansion. "And finally, four deaths, one Lord, and three servants known to be abusive and threatening to the other staff." Howard's image grinned evily. "I have to say, the DMSO on the old bastard's cane was quite original."
"Well, it was all part of the job," Rashid replied. "Now, about those contacts you were going to set up-"
"Up, up, up, there, Rashid! I said we'd help making the contacts! And my bosses want one more show, just to make sure of a few things. That's all, no more leading you boys on."
"How dare you!" Rashid screamed, slamming his fist down onto the top of the console. "We go through all that risk and danger, and you have the gall to-"
Chan signaled for Rashid to hold his tongue. "We understand. Please, continue."
Howard nodded. "One of theeeeeeeee- ger problems up here are the vehicles of ES. Everything that has ann- ngine has it's fuel regulated very strictly. We need their supplies taken out." A satellite photo of a desert area appeared next to Howard's face. "This here is the Burgan oil field, in Kuwait. It's one of ES' primary drilling and refining centers in the Mideast. We've figured that taking this facility out will restrict the enemies movments, at least somewhat."
"And then you'll help with those contacts?" Rashid growled.
"Of course. Just take out the field, and we'll help with those contacts," Howard answered. "That's all for now, Howard out."
Rashid turned off the screen, and turned to look at Chan. "What happened here?"
"They need a bit more proof. And there is some strategic value to this job. Taking out the field will definitely restrict colony vehicle operations. Believe it or not, MS aren't the all powerful weapons they're made to be." Grabbing a small glass of water, he sat down nearby. "MS were made to fight other MS, and maybe vehicles. On open ground, infantry are worthless against them. However, in cities and other tight areas like forest, the MS will always lose to determined infantry."
"So that's how you suggest we handle the power plant."
Chan nodded. "Precisely. The enemy will be so concerned with protecting the facility, that any attempt to fire on your men will mean a choice between a few dead rebels and a destroyed production facility."
Rashid nodded and picked up his phone. However, he paused. "Shouldn't we give the men some kind of a…well, break?"
Chan stared at Rashid, then smiled slightly. "Well, you really are learning, Rashid. Even I'd forgotten the fact that the men need some rest. However, we must make sure they stay in groups, in the seedier areas of where they're going. And they can't have any contact with anyone!" he emphasized. "If their cover is blown like Rasshid's, it could bring down a world of problems."
"Are you sure?" Rashid asked. "I mean, it's not like they're all criminals," he said, as the trio of Auda, Afmad and Abdul walked by the window.
"We can't risk it," Chan replied. "They found Rasshid quite fast, any more and it would be proof that someone is out there with the rest of the workers that have 'died'."
"Very well," Rashid conceded. "What about the other mercenaries? Have you managed to get in contact with them?"
"No, direct contact right now is too risky." Chan grinned. "Instead, I gave them something better. Rumors."
Rashid blinked. "Rumors?"
"Yes, rumors. Quickly substantiated by the massive cover-up ES is undoubtedly making for all the assassinations."
"Will it work?" Rashid asked curiously.
"You don't know the rumor mill," Chan replied, smiling.
Brian scoped the road that ran through the countryside near Crossmaglen. The day was quiet, songbirds spreading their soft sounds through the air. There wasn't any sign of the enemy, but since the area was a major battle ground, he couldn't take his eyes away.
"Hey, Brian," Patrick said, moving silently through the brush. "I've got some news-"
"Whatever it is, it can wait. You got those explosives hooked up just in case?"
"Aye, but-"
"Then shut up!" Brian barked. Patrick started to say something more, but decided against it. Whenever Brian pulled sniper duty, he always became focused, the rest of the world falling away.
As the hours passed, and lunch consumed, it seemed as though nothing was going to happen. Aside from a flock of sheep and a few cars, no ES or OZ were sighted.
"Now," Brian said, finally breaking the silence. "What is it that's so important?"
"Hm?" Patrick said, waking up. "Oh! The news! Well, it's about the Mag-" The sudden roar of a truck engine floated to their ears, and both men dove for the ground.
It was a pair of transports, moving what looked like parts for Leo. The massive trucks had to navigate the roads slowly and carefully, lest they find themselves in a ditch. The escorts were light, only one scout car and transport. Pickings too easy to ignore.
Which was why they had to ignore it.
It was an old fake, give the enemy what they want, and they'll jump at it. Patton and his 3rd Army did it with paper mache and inflatable tanks to fool the Third Reich. Many of America's greatest inventions militarily were just that, tricks to fool the enemy. Two simple transports were too little to risk, and so they passed.
"Anyway," Patrick gasped. "It looks like the Maganac's took our lessons to heart. Seems quite a few ES officials and officers were taken out a few days ago. They're running around like chickens without heads."
Brian smiled. "Looks like Chan's sending us a message. What'a you say we answer it?"
Patrick smiled.
As Houston worked maintenance on Sgt. Heert's Tragos, he shook his head at the way the sergeant treated his ride. The gears on the arms were wearing badly, and the finger and hand actuators were starting to misfire. It would be a major overhaul, one he wished he didn't have to do. Heert would be breathing down his neck the whole time.
"Hey Houston, got a minute?" said one of the other mechanics. Nodding, Houston slid down the ladder to the ground.
"What is it?"
"I just heard some news from the Mideast. They're finding loads of busted Leo out in the desert. Weren't you just out there a few months ago?"
Wiping the grease off his hands, Dallas set down his tools and started walking. "The hand actuators are going, and make sure the gears in the shoulders get looked at. Sgt. Heert expects it in service in about two weeks, so get moving!" With that, he disappeared from into the dorms, leaving the confused mechanic with a machine in need of repair, one piloted by an easily angered jarhead.
Alaby paused in his tracks, the other rebels with him quickly following suit. Carefully, he looked down his sights into the mountainous Haitian jungles, watching for any movement through the thick foliage. Eventually, it passed, and the patrol moved on. It had been a slow few months, ES keeping to it's strategy of keeping to the easily patrol able cities and slums. Food riots were the only way to make any kind of dent, though those were becoming less frequent now that viable farmland had been brought up on the island. Helicopters were still a great threat, and more and more peasants saw enlistment as the way out of the garbage slums.
Soon, they made their way back to the base, an isolated village off the main roads. Giving a quick reports, he went to his quarters to meditate. Seconds after he started, one of the men barged in.
"Alaby!" he said, irking the man slightly.
"Yes, Tomas, what is it?"
"News from the Mideast! You won't believe it even if the commander told you!"
Sighing that he would have to meditate another time, he strolled over to the small hut they called HQ.
"Alaby?" the commander said, a little surprised. "I thought you were off to meditate?"
"I wanted to hear the news Tomas is so excited about," he answered, without any hint of emotion.
"Well, it appears the Mideast is going up in small fires," the commander answered. "Killings, MS wrecks all over the desert, it's going to hell in a hand basket out there." He looked Alaby dead in the eye. "Of course, these are just rumors."
Alaby nodded. "Of course. If that's all, I'll be going back to my quarters. Sorry to disturb you, sir." With that, he quickly moved back to his bunk, his brain starting to whirr in his head.
The next morning, the other rebels were shocked to see Alaby's bunk empty, a faint smell of incense still lingering in the morning air.
As the container ship plied the route from Edinburgh to Bandar Abbas, McDoland was busy plotting the course for the trip, marking each turning point and ES fleet position as they were shown. Having heard the rumors from the Mideast, he decided that now was as good a time as any to move back to aid Maganac, since they seemed to be actually getting something done.
Which felt wrong.
In the span of only months, the Maganac Corps had accomplished more than many groups could ever dream of before they were eliminated. They were moving far too fast alone. Someone was pulling strings, and he didn't like it. The only reason he was going was because he and the IRA brothers were old friends, and he wouldn't let them go and die without him there to bring their bodies back to the "Auld Sod".
"Ah! Civilization at last!" Auda yelled, throwing back a pint in one of the few bars in Ar Riyad, The Desert Rat.
"Will you keep it down!" Abdul said, slapping Auda upside the head. "We don't want anyone asking questions!"
"Oh come off it!" Auda retorted. "We're high on the hog here! Why not have a little fun?"
"He's right, Auda," Afmad said, taking a sip of his drink. "We have to keep a low profile. We don't need to be found this soon, there's still a lot of heat from out job in Marrakesh."
"Pssh," Auda said, before going back to his drink.
Despite the trio and other mercs congregating at the Rat, the rest of the group made their way through the city, buying gifts for their families, entertainment, or at least some female companionship for the night, and the last for a long time.
As Namir watched the comedy, he found himself roaring with laughter for the first time in months. The antics of the American Pitt were made better by the man's age, and the plot of revolution gone to comedy made things all the funnier. Namir and the others made a game of it, pointing out where the flaws of the men on-screen made them. It felt good to be in a theater again, almost like they were regaining some semblance of their old lives.
"Oi, what's goin' on 'ere!" said an ES soldier, as he opened the door to the Rat. Instead of it's usually empty interior, the place was packed with people, ranging from white to dark, young to old. The usual women fawned over them, while the barkeep poured the drinks in a never ending stream.
"Wot's with all dese Arabs 'ere?" said another, looking at three at the bar. "I thought dis was our place!"
" I dunno," said the first soldier. "But I think it's time we gave dese boys a right proper beatin'!"
Auda waved his arms frantically as he recanted one of his favorite stories to some of the other mercs. "And so me and Afmad, we're running like crazy to get out, and then, out of the bathroom comes Abdul, and he's still zipping up, so-" He felt his body almost lift right up from the seat, the grip on the scruff of his neck too strong to escape. "Hey, who the f-"
"What're you doin' in our bar, arab?" a very angry looking ES soldier inquired. "This bar's for soldiers only, not freeloadin' gits! Now git lost!"
"Hey, Tom, be reasonable here," the bartender said, trying to placate the already drunk men. "They just stopped in for a minute or two, they weren't planning on staying, were you boys?"
"No…not at all!" Afmad said, quickly playing along. "We're actually going to leave right now!" he said, throwing his money on the counter and moving towards the door, all the colored mercenaries following his lead. The white men inside just remained, not ready to cause a scene that would get them all killed.
"Please, forgive my brother," Abdul said, putting his arms around Auda. "He's what I like to call 'touched'." Auda felt a vein almost pop. "We'll just be leaving."
The soldiers sneered as they mercenaries left, then took their places at the bar, the women inside slowly warming to the regulars after their display.
"So," Afmad said, lighting a cigarette. "Anyone want to have a little fun?"
Nodding, they all split off in separate directions, then returned about a half hour later, each man armed with a club or shiv easily found in the garbage bins of the city. Nodding at each other, they moved into the bar, bearing their weapons with intent.
"Oi!" one of the soldiers screamed, beer goggles on and beer muscles flexing. "I thought we told you gits at leave! Dis 'ere's a soldiers bar, so just fuc-"
Afmad swung hard, and his table leg caught the soldier on the right side of his jaw, flooring the man. Then the bar descended into anarchy, Guy Fawkes probably looking over (or under) the pub with glee. A mercenary gave an ES soldier a gash across the arm, before shoving the brokern bottle he was using into the soldier's cheek. A soldier and mercenary were at each other's throats for a few seconds, before the mercenary tripped the soldier backwards into the bar. Before the soldier could react, the mercenary slammed a bottle of whiskey into his head. Auda smiled as he shoved the end of a chair into a soldier's stomach, while Afmad and Abdul kicked and beat a soldier who had tried to pull his gun.
Five minutes later, the brawl had ended, the soldiers sprawled about the bar, few barely conscious. Quickly, the mercenaries dispersed into the city, finding their own means back to base.
As Namir and a few other exited the theater, he looked up into the night sky and was struck by the differences. Out in the desert, the stars and moon lit the night afire in a pale blue, bathing everything in a radiant light. The city was a stark contrast, it's light the millions of bulbs and LEDs inside buildings and on streets, cancelling out the natural beauty. It left him speechless as he moved towards the train station.
As Reanou looked idly above at the Arabian sky, he thought again on the plan laid before him. The costs were enormous, but the gains when it was finished were more than enough for him. The men at the base were merely pawns to be played, and that was enough for him. Sipping at the Bordeux, he smiled. "All in good time, then. All in good time."