“Keep moving,” He ordered his people, pushing them on ahead as he grabbed a man who’d stumbled and nearly went tumbling down the stairwell. Pushing him against the wall he held him for a moment, “Are you ok?”

  The man nodded, eyes wide with panic.

  “Calm down. Take a breath,” Wesley ordered firmly, “If you trip and fall down the stairs, you’ll probably kill yourself and several other people, and that does none of us any good, least of all you.”

  The man nodded, taking deep breaths, and calmed marginally.

  “I’m ok, thank you Sir.”

  “Ok,” Wesley let him go, “Now go on, quickly now but carefully.”

  The man hurried on, joining the crowd that was pushing down the stairwell while Wesley pushed back the other way to check the people coming in off the floor proper.

  Wesley had made his initial fortune in the dot com era, before the bubble burst, and had been one of the few to ride out the events that drove so many others into the bin of history. He hadn’t gotten out ahead of the burst, like a few of his peers, but had instead held faith in his business plan and simply pushed through.

  His faith had been rewarded when his company managed to not only survive the bubble, but had gobbled up all his closest competitors in the process, establishing the corporation as the global leader in several key online services that most didn’t even think about as they used them every single day.

  In the twenty odd years since, he’d been expanding into other areas. Boredom had finally caused him to leave the internet to subordinates as he looked to creating new opportunities in other aspects of the world.

  Blue Solar was his latest company, a relatively small subsidiary that specialized in renewable energies and other cutting-edge technologies for a better world.

  Now his vision for that better world was being threatened by a Dragon.

  When he got his people out of this death trap, Wesley swore he’d find out who was responsible for this atrocity. When he did, they were going to wish the police had gotten a hold of them first.

  Wesley was a firm believer that no government organization should have the right to do the things he was already half planning, but he was no government organization. He’d do them cheerfully, and then take his chances with a trial by jury in any reasonably honest nation on the planet.

  *****

  Major General Wey swore through gritted teeth as he realized he’d lost another tank group, reports coming in made it clear that his crews were on the wrong end of a severe power differential. That was an absurd situation, of course, particularly considering the fact that the had the military on his side and the enemy were nothing more than street thugs.

  Street thugs with magic powers, He thought with grim disbelief.

  That was not a situation he had ever even considered training for. It almost made him laugh as he remembered that the Americans actually had protocols for what to do in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse and an Alien Invasion.

  Perhaps those were as silly as I believed them to be, He thought ruefully, though he didn’t think it would have made much difference even if he had protocols in place for some such event.

  There was only so much you could do without real intelligence, unfortunately, and his men were fighting blind.

  “Major General!”

  “What is it?” Wey asked, straightening up and turning to the approaching aid.

  “An American helicopter is approaching, Major General,” The aide said, “They are broadcasting pass codes… they check out correctly, the codes were issued by Beijing.”

  “What? Contact Beijing, find out what is happening!”

  “We cannot, the long-range communications are all being jammed again.”

  Wey hissed, eyes narrowing.

  That damn jamming again.

  He didn’t have time to deal with that, however, not with an American helicopter approaching.

  “Where are the Americans?” He asked.

  “They are approaching our position, requesting clearance to land.” His aide responded.

  “Grant it,” Wey growled, pushing past the man and striding out of the tent.

  It only took him a moment to spot the grey and blue helicopter as it wheeled about in a lazy turn before making a direct line approach to the PLA camp. The chopper was American Navy, he recognized, one of their Seahawk models, but the machine itself was of little interest once he spotted something else.

  At the head of the chopper, keeping easy pace, was a man dressed in US Desert Camouflage. He watched as the two, both chopper and man, grew larger as they approached and landed in the open lot his camp was setup in. The man stepped up to him, saluted as the Americans did, and then settled in to attention.

  “Major General Wey,” He said, surprising Wey by using his name, “The President of the United States sends his condolences on your losses, and his regards to your men for holding the line against an enemy none of us could have predicted. With the permission of the Party leaders in Beijing, the President has asked myself and my team to offer our services.”

  Wey took a breath, shaking his head slightly, as he spoke with no small measure of disbelief in his tone, “The Party has elected to permit American forces to operate on Chinese soil?”

  “No, Major General,” The man said firmly. “Other than the pilots of the Seahawk, no other person here is a current member of the US Military. The President asked us to place ourselves under your command for the duration, Major General.”

  Wey couldn’t help but grimace, “Mercenaries.”

  The man looked the General firmly in the eyes and smiled very slightly.

  “No Sir, Major General. Volunteers.”

  Chapter 18

  Hong Kong

  Major General Wey watched as the Americans unloaded the helicopter.

  Volunteers.

  There was, in fact, something of a history of foreign volunteers serving with distinction among Chinese forces. He could see how Beijing could accept that, even if it were a thinly veiled fiction as he suspected it must be. Tradition mattered to the people, and it could be leveraged to keep the Party from appearing weak.

  It might, He supposed, even make them look good. Following older ways always appeals to the elder set. There are still those alive who remember the Flying Tigers.

  The one dressed in desert camouflage, who’d introduced himself as Alex Hale, pulled a large case from the chopper and walked it easily over to a table they’d brought out for the group to setup on while Wey watched.

  “We’re going to need a plan,” Hale said, “if we want to deal with the Triads as well as that Dragon. Lana, you spotted it first, check here with the PLA and then go to the Police if you must.”

  “Yes, sir.” The woman said sharply, turning and walking directly over to Wey himself. “Major General, I apologize for speaking English. I’m afraid most of my training was centered on the Middle East. I need to know if your men took a young woman into custody after the fight at the hospital yesterday?”

  “Woman? No,” Wey shook his head, “our only prisoners were known Triad members along with the Dragon himself.”

  “I see,” She said, “Then she must have gone with the police. I will find her, if I might have an escort to provide authority?”

  Wey held up his hand, “What woman?”

  “The key to the Dragon, Major General. The Triads threw a woman off the hospital roof,” She told him, “We believe that she and the Dragon know each other, care for each other. His anger fuels the dragon.”

  The Major General had no idea what she was talking about, but frankly at this point in his day he was beginning to feel like if he did understand it, he was in deeper trouble than it seemed.

  “Fine. I’ll send a squad with you,” He promised.

  “I’m going with Lana.”

  Wey turned toward the rumbling voice and nearly fell over as he tried to get away from the massive figure that had somehow managed to get within a few feet of him without being noticed. The man, if it was a man, was huge.

  “Belay that, Ogre,” Hale said firmly. “You’re needed at the front. Lana will have backup from the locals, she’ll be fine.”

  The big man turned on Hale, glowering enough to make Wey shudder against his every determined effort not to, but before he could say anything Lana simply put a hand on his arm and he settled down immediately.

  “I’ll be ok, go save people, Charles.”

  The big man, Charles or Ogre from what they were saying… frankly, Wey rather thought Ogre appropriate, if he correctly understood the word, looked down at her and didn’t move for a few long seconds. Finally he nodded slowly, though his face bore a frown.

  “I’m not much for saving people, Lana,” The man rumbled, his voice almost inhuman, “I’m more of a killing people and breaking things sort, you know that.”

  “I save people by healing them, you save them by destroying those that would destroy them,” She said, smiling easily. “Of the two of us, you can save more Charles… by preventing what I could only heal. Do what you must.”

  Ogre nodded firmly, “I will. Count on it.”

  “Good, thank you,” Lana said before turning back to Wey. “The escorts?”

  Wey shook himself to clear his thoughts before nodding to the closest sergeant and waving him over. “Detail a squad to escort…”

  “Just Lana,” She filled in the gap with a smile. “No need for formality.”

  “Yes, of course, Lana here… wherever she needs to go.”

  Ogre looked over the Sergeant, “Protect her. If you don’t…”

  “Charles…” Lana chided softly, causing him to sigh and back down, though it was clear that the Sergeant had gotten the message anyway.

  “Yes Sir.” The Sergeant said, looking at Wey, though the Major General had half a thought that he was directing the response to the giant ogre of a man instead.

  Frankly, Wey didn’t blame him if he were.

  At least the man had the discipline to give himself plausible deniability if I were enough of a martinet to challenge him on it, The Major General thought, amused. That was better than many would have managed. Wey took note of the man’s name and committed it to memory as he watched the Sergeant lead Lana off. Good man.

  *****

  With Lana on her way, Alex set to prepping the rest of the team as well as his own kit for the mission ahead.

  He’d brought some tools of the trade from the Gipper, a bit heavier of a load than he normally would carry but these were not normal times. He felt more than heard the Major General approaching to check over his shoulder as he secured the kit with smooth precise motions.

  “What is that?” Wey asked, his tone seemingly genuine in it’s curiosity.

  “Firefighting gear.”

  “You expect to take on the Dragon with fire extinguishers?” Wey snorted, shaking his head, “I believe you might be overestimating the capability of your technology.”

  “Most people think you fight fire with water,” Alex said with a half smile, “a few people like to say you should fight fire with fire. While both can work, given the right circumstances, I learned something a short while ago from the people who fight oil field fires. The best way to fight fire… is with high explosives”

  He popped open the case, exposing a rotary forty-millimeter grenade launcher and a large supply of forty mike mike cartridges.

  Wey reached past him, picking up one of the cannisters and flipping it open to read the side before dropping it back into the case as his fingers went numb from shock.

  “Those…” Wey choked, “Those are…”

  “Thermobaric, yes,” Alex nodded, “They should eat up all available oxygen over a rather large zone of fire. Hopefully, that’ll give the dragon pause.”

  “The damage to the city…”

  “General, Beijing informed us that you called in artillery before the jamming,” Alex said, “We’re way past avoiding damage to the city.”

  Wey winced, but nodded, “This is true. I would have preferred to leave that as a final resort…”

  “If Lana can find the girl, we might be able to keep the damage down,” Alex told him, “but even that still leaves the Triads.”

  Wey grunted, “indeed. One of them has been an especial pain, I must admit. A man capable of throwing a tank through a building is not a threat I have been trained to counter.”

  “Speaking as someone who probably can throw a tank through a building,” Alex replied wryly, “it’s not a threat I’ve been trained to counter either. Today we get to learn something new, be grateful… it is a good day when you get to learn something new.”

  “Not for the people of Hong Kong.”

  “Some lessons are inevitably painful ones. If we’re going to pay that much for this lesson,” Alex picked up the Milcor grenade launcher and slung the shells over his shoulder, “let’s be sure to take what we learn today and feed it right back to whoever caused this, a thousand times over.”

  “In that, my American friend,” Wey bared his teeth, “I believe we are in perfect agreement.”

  *****

  Navy Commander Brian Watts shifted nervously as he sat in the Seahawk Helo, parked right in the middle of an armed PLA encampment, trying very hard not to count all the guns that weren’t quite pointed in his direction.

  His orders were from so high up just thinking about them gave him a nosebleed, however, so sit there he did.

  His passengers all creeped him out, especially the ugly big guy who tilted the balance of the Seahawk whenever he moved, but they were VIPs according to the skipper and that was all that really counted.

  “Hey, Commander, you got a mo?”

  Watts turned to see one of the VIPs crouched behind him in the chopper’s passenger compartment, looking easily past him at the Seahawk’s instrumentation.

  “What is it, ma’am?” He asked.

  “Don’t call me Ma’am, Commander, Rosie is fine,” The woman laughed roughly, “As a friend of mine would tell you, I worked for a living.”

  “Alright… Rosie?” Watts grimaced, that did not sound right to him.

  “You know about the jamming?”

  Watts nodded, they had lost contact with the Gipper on approach to the city, something that didn’t serve to relax him any, to say the least.

  “It’s a high priority concern,” Rosie said easily, “You have a full electronics suite on this puppy?”

  “We do,” He confirmed, “full comm gear, navigation suite, satellite link… the works.”

  “Awesome, let me in flyboy,” Rosie said, tapping the shoulder of Watt’s co-pilot, “I need to check some things.”

  Watts exchanged glances with the Lieutenant before he nodded his head and Rich Parker acceded to the request and slipped his helmet off before climbing out and past the woman into the back. Rosie comfortably dropped right into the seat like it was a habit she was falling back into.

  “You fly?” Watts asked, curiously as she got to work.

  “No, Comm-Tech with the Corps,” She answered in the clipped tones of someone who’s primary focus was now elsewhere. “encryption specialist, started my own company when I got out… gotten better at the job since then.”

  “I guess I can see what you’re along on this run,” Watts said.

  “Oh no, I’m here because Alex went and decided to play hero again,” She laughed softly, before becoming very serious, “and because I was one of the ones who was… changed in Texas.”

  Watts glanced at her sharply, “You’re like the Marine?”

  Rosie chuckled, “are the military calling him that too, now? His head is going to get so swelled he won’t get able to get his helmet off… but no, I’m… different. We all are. Whatever changed us, it wasn’t a template or a factory. It was organic, it seems to be based on personalities… strengths already existing… deep seated fears.”

  She trailed off, before shaking her head sharply and refocusing on the task at hand, “I think we’re just an experiment, not the final goal.”

  “What the heck would the final goal be?”

  “Nothing good,” Rosie said before she froze and tapped the instrument in front of her, “Oh you’re good, you sick bastard, but I’m better… and I am so going to enjoying using what you gave me to bring you down.”

  She grabbed the co-pilot’s helmet and slipped it on, keying into the Seahawk’s radio, “Cap, I’ve got a line on our… peeping toms.”

  *****

  “Sarge, you take the high ground,” Alex said, “Pick your gear accordingly. I want cover I know on overwatch.”

  Sarge nodded firmly, “Clear, Sir. It’s been a few years since I fired a rifle in earnest, but I’ve kept the rust off just in case.”

  “I have no doubt. You’ll need to go to an anti-material system, you know that right?” Alex said, “Nothing else is likely to help against the changed targets, and even that might not be enough.”

  “Relax, I’ve played with the BMGs enough to know my way around the class,” Sarge assured him.

  “Good. Verte, Tee, Ogre, and I will be doing what my students call tanking,” Alex chuckled, “We’ll bring the fight to us, in areas we can control, keep the enemy focused on us while you and the Major General’s snipers pick off the weaker ones for us.”

  “What the Dragon, mon amis?” Verte asked, “I can’t say that I’m looking forward to tangling with that snake.”

  “Leave the dragon to me,” Alex said, patting the Milcor. “Whether I can take him down or not, I’m pretty goddamn sure I can get his attention. You three pick the battleground and get as many of the enemy there as you can, I’ll see to it the Dragon gets our invitation and RSVPs to the party.”

  Those who knew him chuckled, most of the Chinese listening in didn’t quite get the humor or possibly didn’t understand the expression though they still managed to get the gist of the conversation.

  “Major General,” Alex said, “It’s your fight, but if you’d withdraw your tanks until we can center the fight, then come in and close the trap I believe it would be the correct move.”

 

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