Area 5

By Frank Carey

Inside Area 5, Dub went into stasis looking forward to being on the first manned expedition to Mars, but he's awakened to deal with robot intruders, an aircraft about to crash, and alien vandals ransacking the place. Maybe he should have hit the snooze button when he had the chance.

 

Area 5 is another exciting chapter of the Parthenon saga of survival after a man-made apocalypse drives humankind to the brink of extinction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frank Carey
• Release date: Jun 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393955863

Frank Carey

Frank Carey has been formally writing and publishing works of science fiction since late 2013. Over the years prior, he had dabbled in various forms of writing including haiku poetry, but that all changed when he and his wife, Jo, decided to try their hand at writing and self-publishing. Since then, he has written and published a collection of flash fiction and short stories, two anthologies, a pentalogy, and a trilogy. All his work, to date, has been in the science fiction genre. Most of his stories take place about two centuries in the future when Earth joins the League of Planetary Systems. Many of his protagonists are strong females. He is an inveterate pantser who believes the story will go where the story wants to go. Frank’s background includes degrees in physics and extensive work as a scientific programmer and technologist.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

As Dub crossed the floor of the hangar, his nose alerted him to the fact that he was in mortal danger. Ahead of him were six members of the military wearing black combat gear. From their scent, he knew immediately all six were, like him, members of the Homo lycanus—werewolves—and all were members of the same pack. A general emerged from a nearby doorway and met him before he could get to the six. He stopped, came to attention, and saluted. Master Sergeant David Blix reporting as ordered, sir

At ease, Dub. My name is General Mason Rals. How was your trip getting here?

Uneventful, sir. Dub could tell the general was Homo sapiens. This made things worse. Sir, things will get dicey if I am forced to go on mission with this team. I realize that I can be charged... He stopped when the general raised his right palm.

Take it down a notch, Master Sergeant. I'm aware that you and the team are members of two different lycanus packs. I'm also aware of what that entails. There is nothing to worry about.

Are you sure about that, General?

Yes, Master Sergeant. The only thing you'll have to worry about is completing the mission. Dismissed.

Dub went to attention, saluted, then turned and walked off to join the group which consisted of Lieutenant Victor Chosun, Staff Sergeant Samson Chosun, Sergeant Richter Chosun, Corporal Alex Chosun, Private Ryan Chosun, and Private Eric Chosun. After introductions were made, the seven of them took positions around a large table where they were briefed on the mission.

My name is unimportant, the woman giving the briefing said at the outset, but you can call me Spook. The gentleman beside me is my aide, Eyeball. She nodded to Eyeball who tapped a control on the table that brought up a hologram of a missile base. North Korean Missile Site 38B complete with six MIRV missiles and 48 warheads. There's enough firepower sitting there to send the northern hemisphere into a nuclear winter. It is currently being held by 150 or so mercenaries in the employ of the World Liberation League who has graciously offered its release in return for a US$5,000,000,000 deposit in an untraceable bank account in the Cayman Islands. A woman's head appeared above the table. Tricia Manson, a UE observer who was unlucky enough to be present at the site. The mercs have claimed she is currently strapped to one of the missiles as an incentive.

Facility inspector? Dub asked.

Yes, Master Sergeant. Know her?

Of her, ma'am. Her father is the Chairman, CEO, and founder of Manson Weapons and Munitions, the largest supplier of defensive and offensive systems in the world. The missile she's strapped to is one of Doctor Manson's products.

Ever think about changing careers, Master Sergeant?

No, ma'am.

You should. She looked at the seven members of the SpecOps squad. I know your backgrounds, and I know what you're capable of. Your mission is to go in, scram the system, grab the hostage, and get out. We have a heavy assault force hidden in a nearby forest to the west waiting for your signal. You get out, send the signal, then wait for dust-off. Am I understood?

Yes, ma'am, they said in unison.

She walked over to stand in front of the LT. Victor, this will not be a repeat of the Korenburg operation. Am I understood?

Understood, ma'am, Victor replied.

You Chosun boys would still be in the slammer if I had a replacement team, but I don't, so y'all get another chance. She looked at Dub. I want the master sergeant back in one piece.

Yes, ma'am, Victor replied once more.

A living, breathing, one piece.

Yes, ma'am.

She nodded to her assistant who shut down the table. Gear up. You are feet wet in one hour.

Aye, ma'am!

###

Out of habit, Dub waited at the bottom of the ramp while the others walked into the transport. Even though he was technically number two in the pecking order, he had instantly fallen into the role of mother hen to this gaggle. As the last of his team boarded, Spook walked up to him and said quietly, Be careful, Master Sergeant. The Chosuns may be Marines, but they have a tendency for undisciplined behavior. This op worries me. I don't like rush jobs.

He looked down at her. I'll be careful. May I ask a question?

Of course.

What happened in Korenburg?

Small enclave of anti-UE insurrectionists took an office building hostage. We sent in the Chosuns—including First Sergeant Michael Chosun—to capture the rebels. The boys killed everyone holding a weapon along with several civvies.

It sounds like blood lust. BL happens when you have a tight family pack led by a young leader. My suggestion would be to either break them up or find an elder Chosun to run them.

Could you run them if something happened to Victor?

Only if their Top Dog adopted me and designated me as elder. Until then, I am nothing more than a distrusted stranger—an interloper so to speak. Thank God we're all well trained Marines.

Yeah, well trained Marines. I read your jacket, Master Sergeant. The word exemplary kept popping up.

I love the Corps, and I strive to do her proud.

She glanced around. If the shit hits the fan, you will transmit whiskey-tango-foxtrot in the clear on frequency 3. We will come running. And feel free to go full-wolf if the situation arises.

He grabbed his gear and double-timed it up the ramp and into the transport. Just FYI, I can't go wolf, full or otherwise. Glitch in the DNA. I have all the parts, but I can't turn them on. We'll talk when I return. The ramp closed before she could say anything.

If you return, she whispered as the small ship taxied out to takeoff position.

###

The interior of the transport was standard military utilitarian decor complete with web seating and no sound proofing. All seven team members were wearing parachute harnesses and helmets over black coveralls. There was no rank insignia or name tags. Only black webbing over black uniform. Their helmets were black, their weapons were black, even the blades of their knives were black. There was no color anywhere inside of the transport except for the red lighting.

While the others joked and horsed around, Dub spent his time performing weapon and equipment checks while watching his six companions. He was interrupted by the corporal, Alex. Master Sergeant, I hear you can't change into wolf-mode. That has to suck.

It is what it is corporal. Does a man blind from birth miss the sight of dawn breaking in the east?

The master sergeant is a philosopher, Staff Sergeant Samson noted. We'll just have to keep an eye out for him if things go pear shaped.

Like Korenburg? Dub asked. Did that op go pear shaped?

What did she tell you?

She didn't have to tell me anything. I can smell it on you, the scent of death. Y'all went blood lust and couldn't stop. Does your Top Dog know?

It never came up in polite conversation, Master Sergeant, the LT said. Who's your Top Dog, Cripple?

Now, it would get interesting, Dub thought. Tell me, LT, are you trying to goad me this early in the trip? If so, then I should tell you that I don't goad. I'm here to keep you and the others alive while we save the planet from nuclear winter and rescue the hostage. When that task is finished, you and I can dance if you want, but we do it proper.

How can we do it proper if you can't change?

We do it the old-fashioned way. No weapons except for ones God gave us.

I'll tear you apart.

Maybe. Maybe not. We shall just have to wait and see.

Are you challenging me, Master Sergeant?

No. That is your privilege, sir. If you do challenge me, then I will accept.

Damn! Private Eric said, The set you have. I'm impressed, Master Sergeant.

Let's see how you feel after this op is over, Private. 

This is the cockpit. Three minutes to jump. The back ramp opened to reveal a moonless black sky. The seven of them lined up on either side of the cabin and faced the back of the craft with Dub being last in line so he could watch the others. He was alarmed to see all six Chosuns shifting from one foot to the other while nervously tapping their weapons.

God help us, he thought to himself, are they taking something?

The green Jump light came on, and the six team members ran out and jumped in more of a melee than a controlled exit. Dub waited for a moment before exiting the transport to give the others time to clear the space. There is nothing worse than jumping out of a transport and hitting a fellow skydiver on the way down.

Since this was halo jump, he had time to check his position during the high-altitude section. Checking the mini NAVComp on his wrist, he saw his team members had already opened their chutes. Pressing a button showed their altitudes and speed on opening. Idiots! That kind of velocity could tear your chutes off or break your fool necks. Are these the best the Corps could come up with? he muttered. Spreading out his arms, he started lowering his descent speed as he approached 3,000 feet above ground level where he deployed his chute. He hit the ground and immediately released his rig before heading off to the rendezvous point in a dead run. When he arrived, he found the small glade empty.

Dammit to hell. He tapped the mic button. This is Wolf 7. Sitrep! He got only static in return, so he tried again, and again, but got only static