Project Unnamed: Memories

by Ingvar Mattson

conclusion

October, 2080

“So, are the objectives clear? Svensson, re-cap, please.”

It was almost amusing. Captain Linda Eriksson, the very person who had been his recruitment sergeant, was briefing him for his first raid mission.

“Well...” Johan temporised, “43rd squad, lightly armed, will be air-dropped near the ASEA-Bofors complex, in the outskirts of Väster We are to land outside the fence, detail two members to secure our getaway transport. I will take the remaining five members plus myself to the fence surrounding the complex and bypass the fence.

“Once inside, we will get closer to the complex and plant video surveillance as hidden as possible. The cameras will be able to store about a week’s worth of data. We will also try to tap the data line from the bio-sensors at the main entrance and take as many snapshots as possible though the main entrance doors.

“If we spot an opportunity, I will detail one member to enter the building and stay. Otherwise, we all extract to the fence, bypass the fence again, check that we have transport and get back as soon as possible.

“We are going with minimal weaponry, leaving for the airport in... 27 minutes. Objectives understood, Ma’am.”

Squad leader and battle mage. First live mission. No longer safe in the knowledge that this was just a practice run, that if things went wrong, he’d probably not come out of it alive. Petter Jakobsson, his deputy squad leader and signals man, called him aside.

“Johan, are you OK? You know that if you need me, I will back you up. I’ve done these before; it should be a sweet first mission. My first deployment was as armed guard for a food transport in Brno, some three years ago. Utter hell, I tell you. Screaming people everywhere and armed food-jackers around every corner. No, this is the kind of stuff I like. Up in a flighter, drop out, glide in, dump down. Nice, reliable, battle mage at your back. Now, I think it’s time to kit up and roll out.”

Johan stretched and grabbed his assault rifle. “OK, apes. We’re ready to rock. Get that kit and run for the van. We’re off to jump!” All eight jogged to the mini-bus outside and quickly filled it. Petter in first, Johan in last, so as to have at least some chance of leadership surviving, should they have to exit the vehicle under fire.

They sped to the airfield, where a Rover 21 flighter was waiting. Combining the speed and range of a traditional aircraft with the take-off and landing convenience of a helicopter, the flighters were increasingly becoming a favourite with incursion forces around the world.

This time, they’d use it as a parachuting platform, a bit unconventional, but a flighter would definitely show up on the ASEA-Bofors radar and set off all sort of interesting alarms.

“Hup, hup! Get your chutes on before loading into the flighter. Jakobsson, verify that the cameras are in the flighter!” Johan said.

“Aye, on cameras, boss!” Petter yelled, “We’re ready to rock, as soon as everyone is loaded.”

The flight was a mere 20 minutes, then out in the black night, free-falling down to 600 metres, chutes open and fly in as close as possible. They all landed without injuries and no alarms. Two of the squad, Jonsson and Smith, peeled off to secure motor transport.

The rest walked towards the ASEA-Bofors compound, keeping as quiet as possible. There might be audio pick-ups. After a few minutes, they were at the edge of the woods, looking in towards the compound and its perimeter fence. First, five metres of chain-link fence, topped with barbed wire. Behind that, a grassy strip, about two metres wide, looking suspiciously innocent. Behind the grassy strip, another fence, made out of razor-wire only.

“Second, have a look,” Johan said. “Those fences. Nasty. That grassy strip doesn’t give me much comfort. Do we try a cut-though or do we look for a better place to go in?”

Petter considered the options. “You know, you’re the mage. But last time — not here, of course — but last time we planted surveillance, we teleported past the fence. You think you’re up for it? We need to get both in and out.”

Johan looked towards the compound again. “I’ll sneak a bit closer. I’ll have a better chance sensing power-lines and the like in the grassy zone if I’m a bit closer. Might even spot some other things. Once I’m happy, I’ll click you on the radio, you bring the rest of the squad running.”

Running hunched, Johan closed in on the fence. There, under the grass, lots of low-power cabling. Probably for sensors and signalling. But, there, something solid and metallic, close to the surface. What is it? Not enough detail: wet soil and not enough power in the object. Oh, wait. It’s so close to the surface, it can only be a pressure sensor. Or a land mine. Nasty. If we get the fencing down in a wide strip, we should be able to fold it and slam it down hard enough to set off anything in the soil. Combine that with cutting a hole in the fence on the other side should give a walkway.

Johan reached for his radio, clicking the transmission button twice. Up in the forest, Petter signalled to the rest of the squad “Follow me” and set off towards Johan at a flat run. As the squad came closer, a section of the fence ripped loose and slammed down on the ground. The squad ran onto ASEA-Bofors compound ground, splitting into two groups of three. Johan veered left, with Eriksson, the video specialist and Nylander, a demolitions and all-round technical girl.

Spotting a pond, with a small stand of trees nearby, the group prepared to install the first camera. After a minute, the camera was installed and the three continued running, looking for another spot. “Three cameras left, isn’t it? We need to make a by-line past the main entrance doors and get some snaps. We have an estimated ten minutes before we need to be out of here.”

Johan’s radio crackled. “Helge Adam, Helge Adam.” Someone wanted to get hold of him. “Helge Adam, over.”

“This is Helge Bertil, we have incoming. Transport is secured. Out..” Ah, his second-in-command. “Guys, we’re in a rush, head back to the opening, I’ll cover the rear.”

The three turned around and started a flat-out sprint for the opening. As they ran, they could hear the distinct whine of an inbound flighter. From the corner of his eye, Johan could see Petter and the other two joining them. The whine came closer. Much more and they’d be in trouble. Industrial espionage had never been treated lightly in Bofors land.

As the six ran towards the gate opening, a van came speeding in from the opposite direction, doing a hand-brake turn just in front of them. The doors were flung open and private Jonsson flung the back door open. “In, quick!”

As they ran towards the doors, the whine was growing louder. They all jumped into the cargo area, with Jonsson slamming the doors shut behind them.

“GO! GO! GO! All in. Securing the doors.” The tires dug into the grass, the van accelerating at a punishing rate. “Sit tight, we didn’t find anything with seats and I didn’t get a chance to weld any hand-rails onto the walls. What’s a girl to do?” Private Jonsson complained.

Explosions tore up the road behind the van, but as luck had it, the fighter ran out of missiles before managing a hit. Off into the night, to safety. They’d made it, this time.

2082-04-23 T04:46

It’s been quiet for, I don’t know, two hours now? Bit tricky to tell; they may have gone from mage-probing to posting a few armed guards. Nonetheless, it will soon be time to go top-side, find some energy, and then get the rest out. I should get some kip first, though.

2082-04-22 T13:02

The four of them crawling in a ditch, towards the fence. On the other side, Volvaab-Partena Linköping regional HQ. Hopefully it contained the plans for the suspected upcoming Rimbo raid.

Further back, second half were preparing the egress. Gasoline-powered van, foam-filled tires. Should get them to a safe distance for the first vehicle swap.

As the first half reached the fence, Svensson, their battle mage teleported them, one by one, to the other side of the fence. Once all were safely past, private Nylander rigged the fence with cutting charges, so the van could drive through with ease.

In a quick jog over the grounds. The north wall had, foolishly, windows. Made things much less risky, that, being able to see where you’re sending people.

As they closed in on the main building, the tension was palpable. Out in the open they had no obvious place to hide, if they spotted imminent detection. Only 45 seconds until they were safe. A side door opened and a woman surrounded by armed guards began walking out.

Nylander pointed her combat rifle at the group and opened fire on the Volvaab-Partena staff. Martinsson triggered the pickup call and then joined Nylander in firing at the group. Svensson, the squad leader, dived away from the immediate action and adopted that blank look of improvising battle mages.

The woman barked an order to kill all four, quick. Soon after, she screamed, clutched her head and fell to the ground. A van came screaming towards them, slid to a stop and a machine gun opened fire at the body guards, making short work of them. As first the half boarded the vehicle, Eriksson mentioned that the woman was either Volvaab-Partena’s chief financial officer or her dopplegänger.

As they speeded up, three helicopters suddenly became visible, hurtling for the van. Approaching the fence, the helicopters started firing. Dumb bullets, to start with: cheaper than missiles, and a van is a fairly easy target.

Out on the road, still accelerating, they were glad that slightly before noon on a Wednesday was a low-traffic time. Around a bend, a brief respite, the trees obscured them and stopped a fraction of the bullet hailstorm. Towards the roundabout, aimed to head downtown. Less firing that way. Aimed to get to one of the pre-scouted positions, where they could teleport into a safe house, change clothes and leave in separate vehicles.

Ripping into the roundabout, they failed to see the spikes that protruded from the ground and shredded the tires. The van swerved and ground to a halt in a shower of sparks.

“First half, with me to the left” Svensson yelled. “Second half, head right, towards those buildings. Leave the machine gun, we’ll cover you for a bit. Now get to it!.”

Jakobsson, second-in-command, opened the side door. “Smith, Eriksson, Nilsson, on my mark, smoke at 10, 20 and 30 metres, then run like hell. MARK!”

The four men left the vehicle at speed. Jonsson grabbed the machine gun, leaned out of the van and opened fire at the helicopters. Signalling that luck was on their side, one of the helicopters suddenly let out a stream of smoke and went down.

“Crew,” Svensson said, “we’re in a tight spot. This isn’t far from where I trained. Up in that forest, there should still be quite a few underground hiding spots. Martinsson, target on foot, 11 o’clock, fire! Right now, I say we head up there, I get all of you down in one each. Air should last us until tomorrow. Anyone violently opposed? No? Good, saturate the surroundings with smoke, then follow me. In four, three, two, one, NOW!”

They ran towards the small forest, under the cover of smoke. All four hoped that any stray bullets would leave them alone. Some fifty metres in, Svensson stopped: “Nylander, you first!” and the two of them disappeared. Svensson re-appeared and ran on. Fifty, then one hundred metres. “Martinsson, you’re next.” Svensson and Jonsson kept on running, zig-zagging among the trees. After a few minutes, Jonsson was also teleported to safety. Svensson continued for a bit more, then disappeared.

2082-04-23 T06:21

Phew! The air is starting to taste stale. Time to much down an energy bar, have a last drink of water and then head out. I haven’t felt any probing for three, four hours, so it should be safe. Well, as safe as anything gets, these days. There, some sugar and protein down the hatch. And some lovely, pure, water. Well, lovely tepid water, at least. Some light: double-check my rifle, make sure I have some spare clips at hand. You never know, Volvaab are sneaky bastards.

OK, here goes nothing! Up on the surface now, it’s quiet, good sign. No rush, let’s just head over and get Jonsson out first.

2082-04-23 T06:34

“HQ, this is sniper three. Target in sight, permission to fire?”

BOOM

“HQ, this is sniper three. Target eliminated. You were right: it seems as if the target could feel out mages searching and lie low. Send a clean-up crew. There are probably more hidden in the ground. The sniper squad will stay until relieved.”