“And if they say no?” Jackson raised an eyebrow.
“Then that’s why our friends are here. But we are not to engage. That’s not our job.” Monroe paused his pacing for a moment. “Look, people, we just have one job, and that’s to establish a line of communication between Dr. Shenjung Xing, chief engineer and project leader, and Dr. Weir here. That’s all we need to do. Then we all go home.” He looked along their faces.
“So,” Dawkins started, “all we need to do is enter the Chinese base, while not getting shot, travel down to where they have descended, which we believe is now several miles below the rock and ice, and find this Shenjung Xing. We need to do this without killing anyone, being killed, or if possible even firing a shot.” He looked up, cynicism in the smile on his face. “That about it?”
Monroe grinned. “Oh yeah, the new Chinese soldiers that just arrived are PLA Special Forces.”
“Jesus Christ, Bill. Those guys will kick our ass.” Dawkins’s mouth curled down. “They’re not gonna let us just walk in there.”
“Didn’t say it was going to be easy. But our latest Intel leads us to believe they have already gone below ground, so the base should only contain a skeleton crew.” He shrugged. “It’s our chance, and we’re going to take it.”
“I’d feel better if someone told them not to shoot, as well.” Jackson grinned. “When?”
“Within the hour.” Bill Monroe looked at his watch. “We need to be there and back before any more big guns arrive on the water. Our job is to make sure they’ve got nothing to bump chests over. We can do that by getting to this Shenjung Xing.”
“If we can get to him,” Dawkins said softly.
Silence hung for several seconds, until there was a loud knock on the door that made Aimee jump. Monroe motioned for Dawkins to open it.
One after the other, the HAWCs entered. Captain Mitch Dempsey nodded to Monroe and Aimee, and then he and his team stood at ease in the center of the rec room. Their size and bulk eclipsed everything and everyone else inside. It was the first time Aimee had a chance to look at the people Jack Hammerson had chosen to accompany her — they were big, nearly all as big as Ben Jackson, except for Casey Franks, who nodded to Jennifer, and grinned, the scar on her cheek giving the smile the quality of an evil sneer.
Aimee saw that their bulky white suits were open and displayed underneath was the familiar caving suit she remembered, the suit she now wore herself. It was a combination of Kevlar thread and armor plating. The black, multiple terrain suits would stop a bullet, defraying their blunt impact, like a modern day suit of armor. The Black Knights of the 21st century, Aimee thought.
Monroe pointed to the coffee, but Dempsey shook his head. The McMurdo leader held out an arm. “Ladies and gentlemen, this here is Captain Dempsey of the Special Forces.”
“Which Special Forces?” Dawkins asked, his arms folded.
Dempsey didn’t blink, so Monroe went on. “Ah, he’ll be leading the mission… under Dr. Weir’s guidance.” He leaned back against the table. “Captain.”
“Thank you, Sergeant.” Dempsey took a few seconds to eyeball each of the regular McMurdo soldiers. “By executive order, you are now all under my command.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “There will not be a war today, or tomorrow. We will not permit it. We will enter the mining tunnels, contact the Chinese team, and allow Dr. Weir to negotiate their withdrawal without interference.”
“Excuse me, Captain, but why would they listen to us? Or anyone with us?” Dawkins hiked his shoulders. “I mean, if they think we, that’s us McMurdo guys, had something to do with their previous team going missing, what are we going to add?”
“Fair question.” Dempsey nodded. “What are you going to add? Why exactly are you people going?” He pointed. “You, First Lieutenant John Dawkins, communications and computer specialist, are there because there is an emergency signal emanating from Area 24. You will be assisting us in tracking it.” He pointed to the hulking Jackson. “And you, Second Lieutenant Ben Jackson, engineering specialist and ex-Ranger — your combat skills may be required. And you, Medical Officer Jennifer Hartigan? We hope we won’t need you, but we may suffer some cuts and bruises. And the reality is, your field surgical expertise might be needed.” He turned to look at each of their faces. “All of you have skills that we may require. That’s why you’re going.”
Dawkins pulled at his chin. “Bill, ah, Sergeant Monroe, will you be going?”
Monroe shook his head. “No, not on this one, John. I’ve got work to do topside. It may get a little choppy up here as well.”
“Great. So, um, is Dr. Weir or Captain Dempsey taking point?” Dawkins asked, but his eyes now stayed on the ground.
Dempsey nodded to Aimee. “Depends on the situation. We get us down, and provide cover. Dr. Weir takes it from there.” He strode forward. “But to avoid confusion, all of my people are in charge. This is my team, and your new best friends. They tell you to do something, you do it.”
Without turning, Dempsey held out an arm. “The friendly looking one to my left is Casey Franks.”
Casey Franks gave a mock bow, the scar-pulled sneer permanently in place. On her neck, curling from under the suit, were angry red tattoos, and pink scars could also be seen. The trapezius muscles on her shoulders seemed to run up her neck to just under her ears. The tough female HAWC’s expression only softened when she looked at Jennifer. Aimee worked hard to suppress a smile at the look on Dawkins’s face.
Dempsey moved his arm slightly. “The big guy next to her is Hank Rinofsky.”
Aimee had heard some of the team on the chopper refer to the giant HAWC as Rhino. Not just a play on his name, because the huge man had a lantern jaw and massive broken nose that gave it knuckle-like lump at its center.
“Then Misters Redman Hagel, Vince Blake, and Earl Parcellis.” Each name was followed with a nod, or flat stare.
Redman Hagel grinned but also stared at Jennifer, raising his eyebrows. He was the youngest looking, and his short blond hair and light blue eyes gave him a pleasant, farmboy look. But there was something behind the eyes — a deadness, and a sliding shiftiness that urged caution. Next to him, Vince Blake was the shortest at about the same height as Casey Franks, with black hair, and a slight fold to his eyes, hinting at an Asian ancestry. Earl Parcellis looked Italian, with a wiry frame, tight shining curls and stubble that was already thick on his chin and disappearing on its way down his neck.
Each looked formidable, and next to the McMurdo soldiers, these were the guys you wanted to be close to if things went bad. Aimee looked again at the empty gaze of Hagel — perhaps most of them were, anyway.
She noticed that Dempsey kept the rank and other information about the team to the bare minimum. The HAWCs were an off-the-books group, and she bet as far as he was concerned, in twenty-four hours, they’d all just be memories when the mission had closed out.
Monroe straightened. “My team are good at what they do and all have climbing experience. They’ll pull their own weight.”
“Good.” Dempsey nodded to Monroe. “Questions?”
“When would we leave?” Jennifer asked.
Dempsey looked at his watch. “In… twenty-three minutes.”
Jennifer’s mouth dropped open, and Dempsey looked back along the group. “Anything else?”
The silence stretched, and the McMurdo soldiers seemed to be locked in their own thoughts. Dempsey began to turn away.