Prologue
Never Look Back
He staredat the imposing buildings of the United States Naval Academy rising up behind old walls that had stood for several centuries. Annapolis was everything his father had said he’d need for the path laid out for him. The next four years of his life would unfold here once Induction Day was over and Plebe Summer began. Soon he would exchange his bespoke suit for a uniform that he hoped to wear with pride.
A United States senator who was a close friend to his father had gladly written a nomination for his application, one senator out of a dozen who’d offered their help. Every step of the way seemed easily handed to him, but after today, whatever he’d make of himself would be on his own merits.
After today, his life would never be the same.
“Honey, wait a moment.”
His mother’s voice cut through the buzz in the air that came from dozens of other families surrounding them. Everyone was headed toward the gate that would separate the civilian world from the military until graduation day four years in the future. He paused, looking over his shoulder at his father and mother and little sister. The Maryland summer heat had wilted his mother’s delicate curls but not her smile.
She stepped closer, reaching out to adjust his tie and collar as if he were still a child, when he was eighteen, ready to make adult decisions. Four years committed here and then four years after dedicated to the United States Marine Corps. Decline a re-up and begin work on a congressman’s political campaign for an eventual run of his own in the future. He knew what was expected of him.
He grabbed his mother’s hands in his, giving her a gentle smile. “I’ll be fine, Mother.”
She didn’t want to leave him, so he let her go, turning to face his future.
Annapolis called, and he kept walking forward.
AFTER
2286
___________________
1
Leave the Lost and Dead Behind
The Mojave Desertin April was less hot than during the summer months, but that wasn’t saying much. At night, the temperature dropped considerably, but not enough to stop sweat from trickling down the back of Staff Sergeant Kyle Brannigan’s neck. He adjusted his grip on the AKR-75 assault rifle he’d gone into the field with in lieu of his sniper rifle before easing around the corner once the area ahead was cleared.
As Alpha Team’s sniper, he should’ve been in overwatch, lying low on a rooftop of one of the many dilapidated buildings in the abandoned warehouse distribution center the rest of the team was in the process of securing. Instead, Kyle was relegated to a ground role, partnered up with a pair of Strike Force operatives as they cleared the southwest section of the distribution center. The snipers on the rooftops were Strike Force, so Kyle wasn’t worried; he knew their capabilities were on par with his own.
The world around him was lit up green through the HUD of his tactical goggles, the night-vision option running at full. Kyle scanned the crumbling loading dock area, noting debris near the buildings on either side, piled there from collapsed sections of the roof. He switched his HUD to an overlay of infrared but saw no heat signatures, which meant no life signs. He hand-signaled for one of the two women he was partnered with to scout out the right-hand side while he took the left-hand side. The other woman stayed put to watch their six.
Intelligence gleaned from chatter indicated the distribution center had been a staging ground for weapons trafficking by the Sons of Adam, a homegrown terrorist group, as recently as last week. A delay in decision-making by the Joint Chiefs had resulted in the MDF getting boots on the ground too late to make a difference.
But they were here now, and they still had a job to do.
“Why does every criminal group insist on owning some out-of-the-way building where they perform illegal activities? Can’t they do it closer? Like in New York City?” Kyle asked quietly over the comms.
“Do you know how much real estate costs in New York City? Too fucking much, even for some hotshot terrorist group,” Madison Chan replied. The team’s demolitions specialist sounded annoyed about that.
“Pretty sure they could afford it, Nova.”
“Not without selling body parts, and if that’s the case, they better be made out of solid fucking gold.”
Laughter filtered over the comms from the other members of Alpha Team and the team of sixteen Strike Force operatives the Metahuman Defense Force had requested from SOCOM as backup for them. For all their powers, the maze of buildings in the abandoned distribution center in southern Arizona was too large for the MDF field agents to cover in a timely matter.
Sergeant Ekaterina Ovechkina, Alpha Team’s second-in-command and communications specialist, was their commanding noncommissioned officer in the field for this mission. Captain Jamie Callahan, the team’s leader and Kyle’s fiancé, had been called away by familial duties he couldn’t ignore. Considering the political mess that had erupted after Richard Callahan’s campaign rally in Boston devolved into a Splice attack on domestic soil last November, Kyle understood why most of Jamie’s focus had been on his family the past few months.
Congressional investigations were a bitch.
“Let’s keep the chatter to a minimum, everyone,” Katie said. “I want to finish this mission before dawn.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Captain Matthew Gailani replied cheerfully.
