Gavin Smith: Crysis: Escalation

‘Get the fuck out of my CP,’ Lockhart growled.

‘’Fraid I can’t do that either. See, my orders has me here, and I’m a good boy.’

Lockhart took a deep breath. Now it was his turn to try and control his anger. He turned to the ranking NCO of the Ranger security detail that was guarding the tent.

‘Have this man escorted out of the CP. If he resists shoot him.’

The British soldier just laughed. The Ranger sergeant didn’t seem particularly interested in escorting the SAS trooper anywhere. He looked over at the Major.

‘I tell you what, why don’t I escort me-self out. Save anyone getting hurt straining themselves. I’ll go back and tell my boss-man that I’ve failed in my mission, God knows what he’ll say. I’ll probably get a proper bollocking. Mebbe even get “court martialed”.’ There was some laughter from around the CP. Even Winterman had to suppress a smile.

The British soldier got up and headed towards the tent’s entrance. He paused right in front of Lockhart.

‘You should bring your toy soldiers and come over and visit us. Try your cock measuring bullshit there, see how far you get.’ Lockhart said nothing; he just stared down at the smaller man, his nostrils flaring in anger. The British soldier turned and headed out of the CP, nodding to Winterman on the way out. Well, it’s as close as any of that lot ever get to a salute I suppose , the Major thought.

Barnes was sure it was CIA. The re-tasking the mission, shooting footage and transmitting it, encrypted, to new freqs stank of them, as did the paper-thin mission brief and distinct lack of intel.

The three of them were deep in the rainforest now, in theory far away from anywhere useful, in a bid to avoid cartel gunmen and FARC guerrilla fighters. Chavez and T were keeping a watch out. Earl was still hidden. Barnes was studying the map.

‘That it?’ T asked despite himself. Barnes felt like apologising to the rest of the patrol, the briefing had been so light.

‘Uh huh,’ Barnes mumbled quietly. Both of them were too professional to call bullshit on their new orders.

‘This is bullshit,’ Chavez muttered. ‘Is there even anything there?’

‘A plantation and a small village. I guess they work the plantation.’

‘Coca?’ T asked.

‘No,’ Barnes muttered. ‘That’s the weird thing, according to intel it’s one of the few remaining coffee plantations in the area.’

‘Maybe the administration is finally getting tough on caffeine?’ Chavez suggested. T chuckled.

‘Okay that’s enough, Chavez,’ T told the combat aircraft controller. ‘FARC?’

‘In theory they control the area but there’s nothing there for them. Maybe a cache, arms or drugs, but it’s not a good place. The transport links are for shit,’ Barnes told the sergeant. He could tell the more experienced operator was having serious misgivings about this mission.

‘It’ll be a walk into nothing, T, you know that. We’re just chasing ghosts for the Company,’ Chavez told the sergeant.

‘Earl, you know where we’re going?’ T asked over the tac radio.

‘Sure.’ Even with just the one word over the tac radio it was easy to pick up the laconic sniper’s thick Missouri accent. The sniper came from rural folks who when the double dip hit and the bottom fell out of farming turned to cooking crystal meth. Earl had chosen to join the Rangers instead. T had told Barnes that Earl was such a good sniper because he made every shot like his next meal was relying on it.

T looked at Barnes. It was a courtesy, nothing more. Barnes nodded.

‘Okay Earl, lead us out of here. We don’t want to see you.’ The Missouri sniper didn’t answer. T and Earl had been working together for a long time now. They waited for a couple of minutes and then Barnes took point, Chavez the tail, as the three of them headed into the jungle trusting that Earl was in there ahead of them.

Lockhart didn’t like being this close to Dr Asher. As an ex-marine he was disgusted that anyone could let themselves go physically as much as the other man had. He also thought that the scientist smelled of milk gone off and the hotter the clime, the worse he smelled. Lockhart was at a loss to explain the stench. His disgust had been further magnified when he’d seen Asher’s personnel file and read about some of the fat man’s proclivities. Unfortunately, the doctor had made himself indispensible to Hargreave-Rasch Biomedical, CELL’s parent company. A microbiologist by training, Asher had cross-trained in enough disciplines to become very useful to the biomedical multi-national when it came to situations like this one.

Lockhart was looking over the scientist’s shoulder at satellite thermographic imagery of the suspected incursion area. There was a surprising amount of blue on the laptop screen for a plantation in the middle of a rainforest, even at this elevation.

‘I don’t like that we’re not using CELL personnel for the reconnaissance,’ Asher said. He had a pronounced and educated English accent that Lockhart thought sounded whiny.

‘You’ve noticed there’s a full scale military operation underway here?’ he muttered. He hated explaining the intricacies of military thinking to dumb-ass civilians. ‘We didn’t have time to get clearance for that kind of operation but it’s being worked on at the highest levels at the moment. Had we gone in now, we would have ended up getting shot at by both sides.’ Lockhart left unsaid that the Delta team would be better at this than CELL personnel. As much as he was loath to admit it, the CELL special operations team weren’t capable of operating at this level. Yet. ‘If they find anything then we’ll be putting boots on the ground.’

‘Oh, they’ll find something,’ Asher said, somehow managing to sound patronising and whiny at the same time. ‘Even a man of your limited “education” must realise that those heat readings aren’t right, not to mention the tectonic activity we’ve seen.’

Lockhart turned from the laptop’s screen to stare at the scientist. Asher was oblivious to Lockhart’s look of utter hatred. He had no idea how close he had come to having his neck snapped.

Lockhart straightened up and turned around, eager to be away from the repellent little man. He turned around to find Major Winterman staring at him. Lockhart couldn’t make out the expression on the JCOS commander’s face.

‘Well, hell.’ Earl’s accent made ‘hell’ sound like ‘hail’ in the earpiece of Barnes’ tac radio. Barnes signalled for them to halt. The three of them went to cover, making sure they could see as much of the surrounding area in all directions as the thick rainforest would allow them. Barnes noticed that it had gotten cold. Despite the altitude he was still surprised to see his own breath mist.

‘What you got, Earl?’ T asked over the tac radio. The experienced Delta operator was perturbed to hear the normally emotionless sniper express surprise.

‘Ice,’ Earl said. Barnes assumed he’d misheard, or it was an acronym he was unfamiliar with.

‘Say again, over,’ T instructed over the tac net.

‘Naw, you heard me right T.’

‘LT?’ This time T was genuinely looking to Barnes for guidance.

‘Earl, we’re moving up to check it out, find a position to overwatch us.’ The sniper didn’t answer. Barnes glanced over at Chavez and T. T had his game face back on but Chavez was looking unsure. It wasn’t an expression he was used to seeing amongst operators.

He had known what to expect. He had been briefed on it, but it had still come as a surprise to him. They were receiving grainy footage over the satellite uplink shot by Senior Airman Chavez. Asher was looking at Lockhart with a smug impression on his face. The rainforest was frozen. Everything was encased in ice.