vignette ~ The Mission

"... so in theory this process works a-okay. You'll be the first troops to actually utilize the effect, however, and I'm confident it will be a success. Am I clear on that?" Lieutenant Crosby looked each of the men in the eye. "You will succeed on this mission, and return to explain to MedOps any variables you encountered on the way. Dismissed."

Twelve men filed out of the small room and made their way at a rapid clip over to MedOps, or MedOops as some of the men called it. Sergeant Pitter stayed to ask Lt. Crosby one question. "Sir."

Lt. Crosby turned away from the diagram-laden blackboard and calmly eyed him. "Pitter. You have a question?"

"Yes sir. Off the record, sir?"

Crosby hesitated. He liked Pitter, but didn't really want any questions about the operation -- it had been a very long day. Finally he replied, "Off the record, Sgt. What's the problem?"

"I don't like this, sir. The men aren't guinea pigs and there's no war going on."

"Pitter, there's always a war going on. Sometimes it just isn't visible."

"Yes sir, but even though no one was supposed to find out, I know some of those tests came out bad. I don't want that to happen to the guys in my unit."

Crosby stared at Pitter, thinking about the results he himself had seen and wondering how the higher-ups had felt when they'd okayed this dangerous mission with so many unknowns. Some of the tests had horrible results, yet the need for swift action had burst upon them, leaving no choice but to up the ante.

He debated sharing a confidence, though it was an extreme move and certainly not the official viewpoint. They needed an edge, however; they simply had to accomplish this assignment.

"Okay. I'll lay it out for you, Pitter. This is top-secret classified and I don't want you to share it with anyone -- this mission must succeed. We have proof agents from Alpha-5 have infiltrated the British high government. Six of our best men died to get this information to us and we have to act immediately. You have to get those men in there and take those agents out. I won't explain why or give you any more details. Now go do the job you've been assigned. Dismissed."

Pitter hurried across the grounds toward MedOps. There was no more uncertainty in his mind. His close friend, Walker, had been killed recently under very mysterious circumstances. He'd been the best tracker/sniffer at this post, and Pitter now realized the true extent of the danger facing them. It wasn't this untried medical process, it was the Alphans. This was no longer a critical mission, it was personal. And, by god, he and his men would succeed.

Two hours later, at 11:45 pm, a low-slung, battered junker chugged drunkenly through the recently rained-upon streets on its way past the mix of downtown buildings which included the austere high government compound. The junker back-fired and, suffering from multiple engine troubles, slowed to a crawl near the compound's front gates. The ever-so-formal guards didn't turn their heads or bat an eye when the oil-burning rig coughed past.

The vehicle managed to keep going and if anyone had been closely watching, they'd have seen the next street drain stolidly swallow up the remains of the rain along with thirteen maple leaves. The leaves were swept underground and immediately thirteen tiny camouflaged men sprang up from the fabric leaves they'd anchored onto and dashed through the drains toward the compound, following the map they'd memorized.

In many ways they were successful. Ninety minutes into the mission they had positioned themselves under the living quarters where they split into three groups. Each group headed for a drain which would take them to the sleeping quarters of the enemy. Working quickly, they emerged about forty-five minutes after that through the shower drain in the designated bathrooms. Climbing up the bed and taking out the enemy had been the easiest part of the task.

It was what happened when the Alphans died that had started the real trouble.