Half-Life - War in the Shadows

Chapter III – Red Tape

After a few years serving in the Resistance, Garret was used to getting chewed out by Major Solomon, or any one of the Brass. Not that he enjoyed it, of course.

"You're a loose cannon!" the Major screamed, his face flushed red in anger. Apparently he wasn't all that happy with having the corpse of a civilian and a Resistance soldier to deal with.

Garret just sneered. He realized the Major was more pissed off more at the fact that he'd have to deal with the paperwork surrounding the corpses of the old man and Donovan than he was at the fact that they were in fact corpses now.

Paperwork. Somehow more than half the planet's population had been annihilated and still bureaucrats managed to thrive, even in some small, half-assed, underground guerilla organization like the Resistance.

Maybe I should check in with the Boss about having some of those pencil-pushing pinheads taken out, Garret thought to himself. How hard would it be to arrange for a handful of desk-jockeys to have a few unfortunate accidents, or plant evidence that would lead to an investigation amongst their ranks?

He'd have to file that idea away for further review. For the time being, he had the Major to contend with.

With his tirade finished, the Major lowered his gaze, sighed, and fell back into his chair with a groan. "Just tell me the guy you killed was worth the death of one of our men, that's all I ask."

Garret did his best to suppress a smile. He personally thought Donovan, and the rest of the overly zealous Resistance "Freedom Fighters" were worth little more than cannon fodder, but he knew he'd do well to hold his tongue. "I'd say so," he responded as he withdrew a crumpled pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his leather jacket. He lit one and watched with distant fascination as the slim blue tendrils of smoke spiraled upwards from his thin lips. "The man I shot was a defector. And don't worry, I've got proof, and you'll have my full report tomorrow. Alexei, one of my guys, is taking care of it. As for Donovan, it was his own idiocy that got him killed. Didn't even bother to search the guy. Oh well. Shit happens."

The Major obviously didn't care. Unlike the vast majority of the Resistance, he'd actually been in the Army before the Combine invasion. He was used to commanding fighting men who knew what they were doing, which was a far cry from the ragtag bunch of rebels he now commanded. Garret almost sympathized with the man. Almost.

"Yeah, shit happens," the Major agreed, taking an offered cigarette from Garret's pack. "You get any more leads off the guy?"

Garret shook his head, declining to comment on the information he'd acquired about defectors and traitors amongst other Resistance cells. "No, Sir, I don't. But, a new team is rotating out into the field, a couple of sting operations. It's a good idea, but it's not my control. Maybe they'll have better luck."

A nod. "Well, you and your boys did some good work while you were out there."

That took Garret by surprise. It was rare for the Major to offer compliments or congratulations, unless he was buttering you up.

"What new assignment have you got for me?" Garret inquired, beating him to the punch.

The Major tossed a manila folder on the desk in front of Garret. "We're launching an offensive into the downtown core. Not as overt as you might think though."

"So you're finally learning you can't take the Combine in a standup fight?"

The Major sneered. "It's not that at all. I have supreme confidence in the men and women and their resolve to win against all odds. But we're not strong enough yet, we need more troops, and better intelligence."

Garret knew full well that while the first statement had been true, the second had been a stab at the civilian intelligence teams. The Major was probably one of the many members of the Resistance Brass that wanted the teams under their immediate control. Problem was that it wasn't going to happen, at least as long as Garret had any say in it.

"Regardless," the Major continued, stopping Garret from saying anything to the contrary. "We're going to make a covert, yet heavy push towards the downtown, out past the river. Our objective will be to establish a larger control zone so we can launch offensives deeper into the city and surrounding suburbs as well as tie up the Combine with a larger front."

"Makes sense," Garret conceded. "What do you need us for then?"

The Major sighed, and Garret got the distinct impression the man was about to admit something he wished he didn't have to. "We are tragically short of trained snipers and demolition men. We're up to our eyeballs in rocket launchers and charges, and while just about everyone has trained on them or used them, few are any good."

Ah, so that was it. The bastard wanted some support. They must be really short of men. "Be that as it may, I thought your snipers were doing a great job?"

"Ha!" the Major exclaimed. "They're all pretty much chicken shit, and can't shoot worth a damn. They're good at harassment fire, keeping the enemy pinned down, morale cutters, but not much more. And this is the fucking Combine, they can practically inject their troopers with morale if they need to."

"So why the hell do you need us? And what's this about demolitions?"

The Major reached out and flipped open the manila folder that Garret had ignored, tapping a handful of grainy photographs held together with a paperclip. "What do you see here?"

Garret leaned forward, studying the photographs. "Whoever took these can't work a camera worth shit. But, uh, I think I'm looking at empty streets."

The Major snorted. "Take a closer look."

Leaning in further, Garret squinted at the images, trying to make out details amongst the distortion and blur. "Ah, I see. Concealed machinegun positions. And, from the looks of it, they've got some heavy armour rolling around just out of sight. They've probably got some Synths as well, and camouflaged at that. Hmm, Clever."

Folding his arms across his chest, the Major nodded. "We need those taken out as we advance. Consider any other projects you may have had no longer your responsibility. We're already set to go and will be moving out in a week. All the information we have is in that folder. Anything else we can give you, we will."

"Wait a second," Garret said, closing the folder. "You want us to go bunker busting and Synth hunting?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Garret just shook his head, smiling. "Man, you've got to be shitting me. We're not soldiers."

The Major smiled. "But you do make good assassins in a pinch. Despite the fact you all may be civilians, you are all very well trained, or damn lucky. Personally, I don't care which one it is. The point is that it will be easier if we slip small groups of men and materiel in ahead of the main force to take out any potential, uh, obstacles when we make our initial push to the downtown core."

"I'm not going to go up against a fucking Synth! Not a single one of us will!"

"You can and you will!" the Major said, slamming his hands down on the desk. Almost immediately thereafter he straightened up and regained his composure slightly. "This isn't a suicide mission. You've got all the intelligence you'll need, and you have a week to get any more should you feel you require it. I'm giving you complete access to our weapons lockers and equipment stores. Take what you need. Dismissed."

Garret collected to folder and got up to leave, tossing the Major a mock salute as he did so, cursing under his breath.

Alexei was waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall smoking a cigarette.

"So, what's the word?" he asked Garret as his comrade emerged from the Major's office.

Garret tossed him the manila folder as they walked down the long hallway of the apartment complex that served as the Resistance Cell's headquarters for the time being. "Did you send Robert the data file?"

Alexei nodded as he leafed through the folder. "Yeah, why?"

"Tell him I want first level surveillance on all Brass operating Cells that we can reach. But keep it quiet."

"Sure thing, man," Alexei responded.

Garret whirled around and stood face to face with the other young man. "I mean it Alexei," Garret said, his voice flat and expressionless, yet conveying a level of seriousness nonetheless. "Keep it really fucking quiet. Make sure Robert and his guys know that. We're going to go out on this little bunker-busting run and when we get back, I want to get to the bottom of this. Savvy?"

Alexei smiled and nodded, patting Garret on the shoulder. "No worries, man. It's my ass on the line as well, you know, and I want these fuckers as much as you."

Garret smiled back at his friend. "I know, Alexei, I know. But, hey, when you're done with Rob, round up Anton and Pollack and any other bastard who we know would be good on a deep strike and meet me in the Bank in two hours. We've got our work cut out for us."