Fic: Under Water, No One Can Hear You Scream 4/5 Due South/Aliens
Title: Under Water, No One Can Hear You Scream!
By: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Alien or Due South.
Summary: Ray witnessed the destruction of the Nostromo, yet no one believes him. With the help of Fraser, his former lover, he finds proof that he was telling the truth. Proof that they take to Chicago. However, before any reunions can be planned, all hell breaks loose, and conspiracy members start playing point the finger.
Warnings: Violence, Alien hosting, language, character death, and Het.
Category: Slash.
Words: 51,000
Rated: Adult
Time line: Takes place five years after COTW. Canada's recent gay marriage laws are considered as a full legal marriage and all that it entails in this story.
Author's Note: Do not read this if you hated the movies Alien and Aliens. Part 11 And so it begins.
Twenty Minutes Later.
All three Inspectors, six Operatives, Bishop, Ren, Ray and to the displeasure of Ray, Constable Ericson, had gathered in the impromptu interrogation room. They sat around the meeting table, waiting for someone to make the first move. Inspector Gatson sat to one side of Bishop while Gorman sat on his other side. At the open, wider end of the semi rectangular table sat three empty chairs.
Bishop glanced to each person before nodding to an Operative at the door. He put on a genial smile as the man led in three figures. "Greetings, gentlemen, I am sorry you had to be put through this, but time is of the essence. If you each take a seat we can begin." His gravelly voice disturbed them from their haunted states.
The first to look directly at him blinked wide blue eyes. "Who the hell are you people?" Searching about him, he stared at the Mounties. "You guys working with these ass holes? Did you let something loose in our city?"
"I assure you, we had nothing to do with it. It was in fact your own people that allowed it to escape." The female Inspector leveled the man with a glare. "Do not presume to place blame on us, Lieutenant."
He dragged a suet covered hand over his face, then pulled it away to grimace at it. "I'm sorry, been through hell. I just watched most of what was left of my men and women get taken by some monster right out of a movie. They were good people, hard working cops. They didn't deserve that." Welsh shook his head. "Why the fuck did they destroy the prescient?"
"They didn't, Lieu." Ray checked with the Inspectors for approval before continuing on. "I did."
"Who..." Welsh stared in wonder at Ray. "You're dead. The mortician claimed... You blew up my station house! Seventeen men and women are dead because of you!" He was prevented from lunging by two Operatives holding his arms. "You're dead! Let me go you fuckers! You're dead!"
"Please remove him. Bring another of his people who can maintain a little more decorum." A male Operative at the table spoke, gesturing for the two men holding Welsh to take him away.
"You're dead, Kowalski! I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands! Let me go..." He continued to yell as more Operatives dragged him from the room.
The other two men had stood back and watched as Welsh exploded at Ray. Neither made a move to intercede on anyone's behalf. One ran a hand through what was left of his hair, pulling a dead leaf away in disgust. The second stood by with a half amused grin on his muck covered face.
Raising a hand to wipe away some of the brown and yellow coloring from his face, the man cleared his throat. He blinked green eyes at them. A smirk lit his face at the dismayed expressions from the Operatives. "Well, isn't this a surprise."
"Corporal Hicks, I am glad you are still alive." Gorman leaned forward on the table to emphasize his position. "Just in time for your own execution."
"That is enough, Lieutenant." Bishop ignored the man's sound of outrage as he focused on Hicks. "Do you know why we are here?"
Sitting down at the table, Dwayne smirked at them all. "I would assume you are here to inform me that we are under new management." He gestured towards the Mounties.
"Not exactly. You are here because I have spared you and your team. If I had not needed your people, you would be dead at the moment."
Hicks sat up straight at this. "What do you mean, sir?"
"Quite simply put, your people are considered rogue agents, to be shot on sight. You have not been following my orders but that of a duplicate." Bishop's voice carried a no nonsense tone, but his face showed amusement. "I've come to admire his resourcefulness," then he lost even that amount of emotion. "You, on the other hand, should have known better. I have not authorized any field operations in the U.S. since the retreat sounded four weeks ago."
"But, sir, we received our orders from the D.C. field office." He tried not to let his voice show his panic. A fact that was growing more difficult by the second.
"If you had paid attention to the retreat orders you would know that all operatives in the D.C. area were wiped out. Division Seven is gone, what part of that don't you understand?" He was shouting, something he never did. Bishop didn't care about personal appearance at the moment. He had never lost Operatives unnecessarily.
"What about Sept Saint Valentine, sir?"
"Sept Saint Valentine was assassinated while overseeing the evacuation of Operatives into Canada, the last of her people with her." Bishop glanced at Inspector Gatson. "Our Canadian Allies lost a Dozen of their best in the blast." Leaning forward, he clasped his hands in front of him on the table. "With the death of the Sept, we lost the last member of our U.S. Contingent. America has been declared a hostile zone for over four weeks."
"That explains why you are based in the Canadian Consulate." Nodding to the Inspectors, Hicks made sure to memorize their faces. "But that doesn't explain why you are personally here, sir. If the U.S. is Hostile, why take the risk?"
"This project, what your team is involved in, was something even our enemies have been trying to wipe out. Frankly, it is more dangerous than even we had given it credit for."
"And what exactly might that be?" Ray Vecchio's voice struck out in an almost visible sneer. Adjusting his impeccably clean suit, he strutted into the room to take the furthest seat from Hicks. "You Bishop?"
"You will remain silent, Detective." Inspector Gatson sent a quelling glare towards the Italian.
"Great, another Ice queen."
Gatson nodded to a person behind Vecchio. He smiled as a restraining arm clammed around Vecchio's throat. "I have tolerated American arrogance as far as I want. Your people are responsible for this with your 'devil may care' attitudes and greed. No respect for your betters. If not for the threat this poses my own people, I would let yours rot in this mess!"
"Inspector." A silent word from Bishop had the Inspector nodding once more for the release of Vecchio. "Thank you, Inspector. I will take full responsibility for them from here on out."
"As you wish, Prime Sept. But one false step and I have them all executed. My people can defend our borders just as well from inside them." He looked between Vecchio and Hicks, a cold, calculating look on his face. "We already executed those conspirators in our ranks in the most painful way befitting a traitor."
"I know." Bishop raised a hand and waved the third man over to the empty seat. "We will require you here as well, Mr. Conlin. Your status as an FBI agent is also the only reason you are still alive."
The pale man grew more so as he nodded. Remaining silent and composed he took the seat and scooted away from Vecchio who sat on his left. However his movements brought him closer Hicks who smacked him on the shoulder with a scowl. He squeaked and centered his chair. Then he looked up at Bishop with a challenging stare. "Impress me, Mr. Bishop."
"Our world is on the brink of both a third major World War, as well as the sixth and greatest extinction. You gentlemen," he gesture towards Conlin, "are the cause of both."
Conlin wisely kept to himself at the room full of hostile glares.
However Vecchio wasn't as tactful. "What the fuck makes you think that?"
"Quite simple, Detective Vecchio. I have eyes and ears in every government on the planet. They are all planning on either attacking or supporting the US. At the moment ninety percent of the world's powers are against you." Bishop sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't think you believe me, that's okay, most people are too blind to see it. Frankly, I don't care either. What you people get, you have coming to you.
"What does piss me off is that your people are arrogant enough to believe you can control the deadliest organism this world has ever seen. Not all of you, Mr. Conlin, believe that. I know you were here personally to see that this creature never sees the light of day. However, both your and my best efforts were for naught. It is free, right here in Chicago, and it has already begun to reproduce."
Conlin slumped in his seat. "How? There were no queens! We destroyed the last one!"
Bishop nodded. "You did, however a few of your colleagues smuggled a few eggs out of the crash site. Before they even knew what it was. One of my duplicates got word of this and paid the men off for the location. Your traitors are having plane trouble as we speak curtesy of a bomb our people planted. However, destroying the evidence of the leak only prevents future out brakes. We have to deal with what your people have already done now."
"Who was the host," Conlin gasped out.
"We believe it was Lieutenant Ripley."
"Son of a bitch!" Vecchio stood in anger. "You let that bitch expose half of Chicago to a virus?"
"No, you Italian loafer!" Ray stood up, glaring at the other man with equal venom. "It isn't a fucking virus, its a god damned parasite! Ripley is dead now because she was exposed to it trying to stop it."
"Boo fucking who! Bitch got what was coming to her!"
Ray jerked a hand up, clenching and unclenching it into a fist. "You shut the hell up, Vecchio. You got no right to talk about her that way. You have no idea what kinda death that thing deals."
"My heart bleeds for her."
"Exactly! The mother fucker explodes from the chest. From what I hear it isn't exactly quick either. Takes a few minutes to burrow through the internal organs before it cracks your ribs and rips through skin into the light of day." Each word was snarled at the other man, almost spit with their hate. "You tryin to say she deserved that? Somethin I wouldn't wish on even you."
Vecchio looked away, his face twitching with the need to say something in retort. He shook his head once then sat down.
Ray watched him a moment more before sitting down. He didn't take his hate filled glare from the other man.
"I believe the time for blaming is over. We each have our own faults in this. What is needed now is intel on how these creatures live, act, and fight so that we might find a permanent solution." Bishop looked to Conlin. "You have that information, so start speaking."
He nodded once. "There is only one queen per hive, take her out first, the eggs next, then the warriors. Those should be your targets. You won't have to contain them. They won't leave Chicago if the queen has already started to breed and there are plenty of hosts near by. However, you can't allow anyone to leave either. Anyone exposed is potentially carrying a new queen in order to spread their population to other cities. Only advisable solution is to destroy the entire city, suburbs included."
"You can't do that!"
"I will not remind you again, Detective." Gatson stared Vecchio into submission.
"How many people do you have here? We need to form a fire break against all possible escapees. Kill anyone trying to get past those points." Conlin glanced from each face among the Mounties and the operatives.
The five other Operatives next to Gorman nodded once towards Bishop. He looked to the three Inspectors. They in turn nodded once. Grimly, he sighed. Spreading his hands out on the edge of the table, he stood up. Bishop turned his back, folding his hands behind him. His breathing hitched a moment before he also nodded.
"What was that about?" The solemn moment was shattered by Vecchio's comment.
"That was the confirmation I hoped for." Conlin stood up, triumph on his face. "How many?"
"Enough to cripple the world's power base permanently." Bishop turned suddenly to face them. "I hope you appreciate the fact that it was us that kept most of this world from the ruins your people seemed hell bent on creating. If we fall here, so do you."
"How many?"
"Close to four thousand."
Conlin staggered before gripping the table. "How did you..."
"How did we get past your so called border patrols? I'll leave that one up to you. All that matters is that you either help or get the hell out of our way. You try to betray us at any point during or after this, we will detonate a few war heads we have around the world powers. They're your war heads, you can't deny the U.S. involvement this time."
"You'd start a world war..."
"As I said, we fall, so do you." Bishop leaned over the table. "Tell your men to assist my people. They will keep the line, but we aren't going to destroy this city."
"Why the hell not? We lost containment last time. Eighteen years ago it spread to three cities before we finally overloaded a reactor on the entire damn country side. We thought we had containment in the small town facility. One of the techs was impregnated with a queen and didn't tell us she had been exposed. We had them quarantined for five days. It took seven for the queen to gestate. What?" Conlin looked at the stunned faces. "What happened?"
"This changes nothing, people." He swiped out his hand with a cutting gesture. "You kill anything suspicious. People separated from their teams for more than twelve hours, unless they are around people or buried under rubble, then they are to be killed, no other exceptions. We go in full assault teams. If my double is spotted, kill him." He pulled open his black vest to reveal an intricate tattoo of two dragons fighting over his chest. "My double is missing this. Kill him, no hesitation, do you understand me. Septs, Inspectors, Conlin, you have your orders. We have a forty hour window before those bombs go off automatically, so don't fuck up. Dismissed!"
All fifteen people at the table rose as one. Ray and Ren walked after Gatson as he left the meeting room for the interior of the Consulate. They ignored the others as they scrambled for their posts. The other Two Inspectors followed behind them.
Gatson entered the main hall full of Mounties that stood at attention in a domino effect heading out from the entrance to the edges. "We have just received the worst news possible. Chicago is about to turn into a war zone and you are all drafted to help keep order. You are authorized to use nothing less than lethal force to maintain that. The Parasite is free in Chicago and we are going to see that it does not leave this place alive.
"We are the first line of defense for our homeland. You have trained for this moment and know what is expected of you. This creature is smart, it is fast, and it is deadly. Show no mercy. Do not allow it to touch you, the blood is pure acid. If you see anything alien for the environment, kill it. People complaining of chest pains, kill them. Anyone with scaring about their heads and neck like strangulation or someone gripping their faces with large fingers, kill them.
"This is a slash and burn operation. All foreign matter is to be burned on site. This does not include American citizens just because they are Americans. Use discretion and trust your judgement. Most of all, stick together. If you get separated from your team members for longer than twelve hours, might as well put a bullet in your head and save them the ammunition. That is unless you are with others fighting off this parasite or buried alive under rubble. Then pray that when you get free that you remain free of the alien."
Gatson took a deep breath before continuing on. "You can't trust anyone outside your uniform. Be vigilant. For Queen and Country, go safely. Dismissed."
"Yes, sir!" The chant of a hundred voices speaking as one filled the room. Mounties dressed in Serge body armor, loaded down with weapons, filed out of the room. As they passed by the Inspector, each saluted just under their Stetson before leaving.
When the last had left the room, a whistle of appreciation pierced the room. Ray, Ren, and Gatson turned to face Hicks where he stook in the door way. "Impressive, I hadn't thought they were so well trained."
"You will find that there are many things about Mounties you Yanks are greatly mistaken about." Gatson cleared his throat before looking to Ren and Ray. "Constable Ren, you are to hold the Consulate with your small contingent. We will need to have this place as a fall back position if things don't go according to plan. Make sure the walls are secure, the assault batteries we brought are primed, and patrols are set about the perimeter. Constable Ray, you are assigned to this ruffian's troupe as you are familiar with them and they will require a Canadian Liaison to make sure they don't, as you put it 'fuck up'."
"Hey!"
Ray ignored Hicks' in favor of saluting the Inspector. "Yes, sir."
Ren echoed his actions.
Gatson returned their salute then turned to leave. "My team may require your assistance, be ready at a moment's notice, Constables. Stand firm and proud, you represent the RCMP." He gave them another look over then left the room, shouldering Hicks out of his way with no effort.
Hicks walked into the room rubbing at his shoulder absentmindedly. Looking at Ren, he shook his head. "So this is the mountain that finally claimed you."
"Mountie," Ray corrected.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Hicks muttered distractedly. He was still looking over Ren. "So tell me, what exactly is up with all these Mounties? I get the feeling I missed something important. And Bishop himself. Is it true, is that really the Prime Sept?"
"Yes, that is Bishop. Apone has been dealing with the wrong man all this time." Ray moved forward between Hicks and Ren, blocking the other blonde's view of his husband. "The deal with the RCMP is a contingency that the Seventh established just in case the U.S. suddenly became hostile territory. Besides, Inspector Gatson was born with a stick up his ass, he's only have Canadian, father is from New York."
"Ah." Hicks nodded in understanding before continuing on. "How come I didn't know of these secondary plans? After Apone and Saint Valentine, I had command of the U.S." Tilting his head, Hicks gave Ray an assessing look.
"You are a member of the First. Each division had their own tactics and contingencies independent of the Organization's main body. You were well aware of that." Ray took a step forward.
"So what exactly does this contingency entail?" Placing his hands on his hips, Hicks stood his ground.
"The RCMP would come in, remove any trace of the Organization, rescue Operatives, and then kill those responsible for the fall of the Organization." His took another step, more menacing this time. "The Organization is dependant upon loyalty to trustworthy allies. Those willing to assure the survival of the cause at any cost. We've been preparing for another World War."
"That explains the RCMP Toy Soldiers. But why the mobility of the entire Organization?"
"The Organization is built upon the survival of Humanity. Wars are detrimental, but if you are prepared, some will survive." Bishop entered the room, his black uniform cracking with new leather. His serious expression set Hicks on guard. "What we face here is greater than any war. There are no preparations to make against it. The Canadians are the greater ally here since we can't trust the FBI, more's the pity as it is their city."
"What about Conlin? I thought his people were going to reinforce us."
"They will to a point. However we don't trust his people, it was their fault the creature is free in the first place. Inspector Gatson briefed us before Ray's arrival this morning."
Hicks' attention shifted back to Ren. "And you trust this man?"
"He is my superior," the Mountie stated with finality. "They are aware of the Aliens presence and have brought along special weapons for dealing with them. Their body armor is also specially designed to resist acid, however it has never been tested against the aliens."
"Aliens?" Hick's eyes were wide. "What the hell? I thought we were talking about a parasite, an over grown liver fluke! Since when did it turn into fucking aliens?"
Ray appeared shocked by the revelation. His body tensed for action as he looked between Ren and Bishop. "What's goin on guys?"
"It came down twenty years ago in a meteor shower over the Arctic Circle in Siberia before the collapse of the Soviet Union. They thought it was an American Satellite until they saw the debris field. I was on the scene with the initial team. You'll never see the like of such destruction, an entire country side wiped out. Entire mountains brought to gravel. It shoulda tossed enough debris in the atmosphere to block the sun for decades from what our sciences at the time told us." Bishops eyes remained unfocused as he paused.
"What really happened?"
"Of what little of their language we could understand, the ship was landing when they set off the self destruct to kill the parasite. It was the only way."
Rubbing at his throat, Ray grimaced. "Were there any survivors?"
"Two. They died shortly after we arrived."
"The parasite?"
"No, KGB." Bishop locked on Ray with his eyes. "I am telling you this so you will know. I am trusting you Ray. When you see Ripley, bring her in, alive."
"You don't think it was her infected?"
Bishop shook his head. "The Tsian's crew is dead, her midnight deckman's body the only one missing. The mutilated body of what we call a face hugger was found in a storage locker. We think it got aboard when the Tsian connected with the Mountie Patrol ship you were on. From there it waited until a target became available, attached itself to him, laid the egg and then died. The destruction of its body in such a vicious manner suggests he did it out of retribution of being violated. He probably hid it out of fear."
"Or somebody planted it to hide the fact they were infected and to throw off the search." Hicks glanced away at Ray's hate filled stare. "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply you. If Ripley was infected, she might have been trying to hide the body of the creature to avoid capture. When we escaped the restaurant, she decked me and ran off into the crowd. I have no idea where she is." His tone took on a defensive edge.
"We know this already, Corporal. Your report has been discussed and there is nothing you could have done." Bishop stood with his hands folded behind his back. "I want your team to assist the Canadian contingent under Lieutenant Gorman. Since Apone is MIA, you are now in command of the remainder of the U.S. Forces. The Seventh is now yours." Holding out his hand, he offered it to Hicks. "Providing you are willing to take responsibility."
"How many men?"
"In all, around a hundred. Your old team included." Bishop smiled as Hicks shook his hand. "Congratulations, aside from Saint Valentine, you are the youngest Sept in the history of the Organization. When this shit is over, you will be responsible for rebuilding the American contingent. Our time table is being escalated and your forces are the most important."
"What about the first Division, we... you took heavy losses?"
Bishop grinned. "We culled the herd. It was a controlled burn." And that was all the older man got out before he was unconscious on the floor.
Ren restrained his husband, holding his arms behind him. "Calm yourself, Ray!"
"Fuck that, Ren! You heard the son of a bitch! They're dead and he knew about it! He fucking knew!" Ray shook violently, trying to remove Ren's hands. His feet kept coming off the floor as Ren lifted him bodily backwards, dragging him out of the room. He felt his anger rising at Ren. "Let me go!"
"No, you have to calm down." Ren began murmuring softly in Ray's ear, brushing his lips over the skin. "Calm, Ray, stay calm." Ray jerked forward as he relaxed a little. His grip was lightning fast to hold back the other man. "Easy, Ray, don't let him get to you. Killing him won't bring them back and it is frowned upon by your superiors."
"I owe that bastard nothing!"
"You are a RCMP now, Ray, act like one! Remember your agreement." He held tight to the shorter man. "Do I mean so little to you? Was our marriage just another assignment?"
"He as good as killed them!" Ray sagged in Ren's arms, his voice cracking from defeat. "All of them, Ren, seven thousand people. I knew every one of them. I trained some of them. I..." Ray shook off Ren's arms and stood on his own. "I've gotta go, Ren. Hicks is gonna wonder where I am and I don't need Gatson gettin pissed." Turning to face his husband, Ray, looked up into his face. They stared at each other, their eyes never leaving the other's.
Ren stepped forward, hand out caressing Ray's cheek.
He reached up and held the warm hand closer to his skin. Nuzzling the palm, Ray closed his eyes. "I..."
"I know, Ray." Blue eyes gazed into brown and closed in pain. "Take care, my Ray. I will be waiting when you get back." Ren's hand lingered a moment more before he pulled back, turned, and walked away. His back remained forcibly straight as he left.
Ray watched him go until he passed around the corner into the heart of the Consulate. Running a hand down the front of his uniform, Ray adjusted out the wrinkles. He turned on his heel and marched back into the main hall.
Hicks was leaning against the door way he had entered through, his face carefully neutral. He looked up when Ray's foot steps caught his attention. "You plan on doing that often?"
"Fuck off, Dwayne. Let's just get out there and get this the hell over with." Ray continued his angry march through door past Hicks and out into the Consulate.
"Touchy. What bug crawled up your ass?" Rushing to keep up, Hicks matched Ray's pace.
"Don't start with me. You know what the hell I am talking about. That bastard knew Burke was gonna crack and did nothing to prevent it." Ray pushed forward when they rounded the corner and came into view of the main hall.
"So, we lost a few operatives that were expendable." Next thing Hicks knew he was shoved against the wall, being held up by his throat and Ray's hand a foot off the floor.
"A team is expendable, two teams are expendable. Seven thousand people are not!" Leaning in close, Ray slid Hicks down to his feet, but kept him pinned. "The seventh division was the largest because we were the most active. We were the pawns in this game, the ones most readily sacrificed for the greater good. Guess what, Dwayne, now your little team is going to be the first to go if this gets ugly." He smiled viciously at Hicks' wide eyed stare. "That's right, kid, you are no longer protected by your First Division status, get used to it."
Hicks slid to the floor choking when Ray let him go. Closing his eyes, he fought back the coughs racking his body. He didn't even realize his hands were clutching at his throat so distracted was he. A strong hand grabbed him by the collar of his black leather uniform to lift him up. Hicks blinked at Ray as the man dusted him off.
"We gotta go. Ready?" Smiling, Ray stepped back and ran a hand through his spikes. "I hope you don't make a habit of fallin down, cause you are just gonna be a liability."
Hick's eyes narrowed as his lips tightened in anger. "I am fine or would be so if you kept your hands to yourself."
The dangerous look flashed over Ray's feature once more before he turned away. "Keep your mouth shut about shit you have no idea is goin on and that won't be a problem. Do we have a deal?"
Nodding once, Hicks eased his body into a comfortable stance, adjusting his back muscles.
Ray nodded in response then stalked his way down the hall, his boots making sure others were aware of his presence.
Hicks bent forward when a twinge ran up his spine in an attempt to alleviate the pinched nerve. A hot hand ran up his spine to press on the right vertebrae while another grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backwards over the hand on his back. With a cracking sound, the joints went back in place and pain subsided. Rolling his shoulders, Hicks twisted at the waist to stretch his back muscles again. "Thanks. Much better."
"Not a problem."
Hicks jumped at the voice in his ear. Rubbing the sensitized skin caused by heated breath, he glared daggers at the person. "What the hell do you want?"
"Nothing much, just a quick kiss for good luck." Suddenly the figured lunged forward, pressing Hicks bodily against the wall.
Hicks cried out but his voice was blocked by the person's mouth over his own. He fought against the person, slamming his free arms against their back to no avail. When the tongue slid inside his mouth, every part touched suddenly became numb. After a few moments, he felt the air being sucked from his lungs and black tinge the edges of his vision. His protests slowly grew weaker until unconsciousness finally took hold. Mental giggles erupted as a last image of himself being French kissed to death came into mind.
Recoiling violently backwards into the open hall on his ass, Hicks' wide eyes searched the hall around him filled with Mounties in Serge colored leather. "Wha...." breathlessly he gasped out. He coughed to clear his throat then tried again. "What the hell just happened?"
Two red-brown boots with a yellow stripe stopped in front of him. Bending down, Renfield reached out and picked Hicks up by the collar. "Sir, your troops are waiting. You are off schedule by five minutes, may I suggest you make haste else the delay grow greater."
Hicks looked at Ren with a puzzled expression. "Hunh?"
"He said get your ass moving before you get these red freaks in an uproar about their precious time table. If I want my home back, I gotta work with you to do so, now move." Vecchio gestured down the hall from his place off Ren's right. "After you, all mighty September Seventh."
"I believe his title is Seventh Sept, Detective Vecchio."
"Shuttup, Turnbull."
"Yes, Detective Vecchio."
Ray Vecchio rolled his eyes in amusement. "Freaks, all of them." Moving in the direction he indicated, he strolled down the hall with Hicks slightly behind him. His coat billowed out around him with each step. Tilting his head a little, Ray eyed Hicks suspiciously. "So, tell me, you and Stanley, you an item or just fuck buddies?"
"Fuck buddies. There is no such thing as an item in the Organization. We are voluntarily either placed on a list for breeding or sterilization. Resources for surviving a world war, remember. Anyways, breeders are given political and intelligence duties while the steriles are the field guys." Hicks coughed a little as he rounded the corner towards the entrance.
Vecchio glanced him up and down. "So, you were sterilized?"
"I've got three kids, each with a different person."
"Perfect race?"
Hicks snorted. "Far from it. Hell spawn, each and every one of them."
"I heard that. Got two of them myself. Both are nothin but trouble." Ray reached into his coat and pulled out a wallet. "Ages three and four."
Hicks slid his hand into his uniform and jerked up a necklace attached to a pendant. Handing it over, he took the wallet from Vecchio. "Two, ten and fourteen." He looked them over with a smirk. "Stella?"
"Yeah, you've heard the stories from Stanley about her during that delightful time of month?" When Hicks nodded, Ray shook his head in disgust. "He got off easy. Nine months, I'd rather be back undercover. And we got another one on the way."
He couldn't help the laugh. "They don't look anything like you."
"They look like my Ma and her Ma, my poor girls. I'm hopin this is a boy, about time for another male Vecchio." Ray held the oval locket out in front of him, flipping through the 3D images burned on the shiny crystal plates like a book. "What kinda tech is this?"
"It's new, offered only in Tokyo at a small shop off the main thorough fair. I can't remember the name, too damn many of them. Anyways, that is real crystal, each weighs only an ounce." Hicks handed the wallet back to Vecchio and accepted back his locket.
"So, who are the mothers?" Ray paused at the door, while Hicks reached out to open it.
"An Operative based in Tokyo, an Operative based in Alexandria, and an Operative right here in Chicago."
Staring at the other man, Vecchio thought on his words. "I thought all you people were wiped out?"
"Not all of us."
"Then who...." His thoughts were left unfinished as Hicks slipped out the door. Grabbing the handle, Vecchio followed him out onto the front lawn and into organized chaos.
Squads of Mounties, both in Serge and Leather Serge were forming on the side walk, into the street, and around the Consulate's yard. Operatives in black body armor with face shields and modified machine guns were taking their places, filling the gaps left by the Mounties. Each Mountie was carrying what appeared to be a staff with a modified machine gun slung over their backs.
At the sound of a whistle, all stood at attention. Vecchio stared on, impressed by the display. He thought someone was whistling until nine black craft hovered over head towards the street. Their bird shaped bodies were supported by twin engines on either wing and a third on the tail. Each landed in front of a group of Operatives. He watched as a hand signal was given by the squad leader and the Operatives then the Mounties filed into the craft. The engines shrieked higher making him clutch his ears as they took off again with their cargos.
"What fuckin hell was that?" Vecchio latched out and grabbed Hicks' shoulder as the man started down the steps. "Whoa, what were those?"
"Unified Areal Vicetransports, Or UAVs for short. Put enough power to the engines and they can get you in orbit at fifteen Gs. Of course, that is in theory." Hicks smirked at Vecchio's phlomoxxed look. "Never tested that theory myself, never wanted to." Hicks marched forward towards a remaining battalion of Operatives. "All right, fall in line, ladies!"
"Yo, Hicks, eat me!" Vasquez grabbed herself and spit at his feet before pulling down her face shield. She slapped hands with a few of the men and women in their group before turning back seriously to Hicks. "I'm here, boss man. Just tell me where to point and I'll take care of the rest."
"Funny, Vasquez. Keep it up and I'll leave you here with the Mounties."
She stared at Hicks with disgust. "Fuck that, them freaks..."
"Are all around you, soldier." Ray Turnbull's mild voice carried across the lawn as he stepped away from a grouping of Mounties. His Serge glowed brightly in the midday sun. "Glad to see you could make it, Corporal." He stood beside Hicks, hands behind his back. "Are we ready to get under way?"
"Who the hell is this guy?" Hudson poked his head up from the group of Operatives, earning himself an elbow jab to the ribs from Vasquez. "Ow!"
"That's Ray, puta," she growled from the corner of her mouth. "I swear you haven't got the brains god gave a mule!" She saluted the Mountie then stood at attention with the rest of their squad.
"All right, listen up!" Hicks shouldered the auto-reload rapid shot rifle one of the Operatives handed him. Looking at each one in the face, he continued on. "We are going into hostile territory. There is a target this time, and we are to use stage five lethal force. Anyone with strange markings or strangulation marks about their face and neck is to be shot on sight, no questions asked. Anyone acting strangely is to be brought to me for interrogation. If you see Ripley, she is wanted alive, bring her in with any means necessary, aside from fatal wounds.
"There are aliens, folks, and we are going to hunt down and exterminate every last one of them. Do not get near them, they have acid for blood and can spit it like a cobra. Yes, these are aliens, not lab experiments gone loco. You will recognize them when you see them. Incidentally, you get separated from your teams for more than twelve hours and it ain't because you were buried alive, might as well eat a bullet cause your dead either way. You will be declared infected and or hostile."
Holding up his rifle, he tapped the lower barrel. "Pump action grenade launcher, specially added for leveling small buildings." Tapping the tubes on either side of the main barrel, he flicked a switch which lit the ends. "Twin action flame thrower. Burn any alien habitat you see, mind the gas lines, lest you take your entire squad with them. The rest of the gun is the standard Total Recall. Switch from single shot to multiple rounds per second firing with the lever next to the trigger. Each bullet is explosive tip for maximum blast."
He turned the gun around, and pried off the butt by holding down the two sides. Holding it up, he showed them the inside. "Reloading is made easier and time efficient, just pry off the back and pop on another one. Takes less than a minute. Each one comes with seventy rounds of TRs, two half gallon accelerant, and ten grenade cartridges. You are given eight butts plus the one already attached to your gun. Standard field packs including radio, recording, locators, and medical supplies are in your sacks, anything else get yourself. Any questions?"
Their grim faces showed only determination to follow orders, a standard reaction when faced with the unknown. Only Hudson raised his hand. "Sir, I gotta question, how exactly do we kill these things?"
"An intelligent question." Ray Turnbull smirked at Hudson. "We dunno exactly. The only successful way we know to kill it, is to burn them. Course that is from limited exposure to these creatures."
"How do you know that?" Hudson's question caused a stirring in the Operatives.
"Remember Chernobyl, it wasn't an accident that facility was destroyed. The destruction was greater than the public was lead to believe, and the fall out is still being felt today. Three cities were over run in three weeks and that was because they were isolated. Imagine if this hive was successful." Ray stepped forward. "These aliens lay an egg in the stomach's of their hosts. The host then gestates the egg and the little larva that hatches from their chest goes on to grow up big and strong to help create more little aliens. This fate was originally intended for you by the Bishop Duplicate you have been mistakenly following. The duplicate is to be exterminated on sight, you will know him because he does not have a dueling dragons tattoo on his chest. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" A chorus of shouts followed afterwards, mainly expletives.
Hicks and Ray Turnbull shared a knowing look then turned back tot the Operatives. "Our area is to cover from here to China Town, sewers, back alleys, residentials, all of it. We are to move quickly and efficiently, failure is not an option. Report in every five minutes, keep your radios on constantly, and stick together! Move out!"
"Yes, sir!" They turned as one and spread out into arrow head formations. Each team made up of five people, twenty five teams in all. Moving from the Consulate's street, they headed down alleys and side streets.
Ray, Vecchio, Hicks, Hudson, and Vasquez were the only ones remaining. A patrol of Mounties moved out from the Consulate and headed their way. Ray stepped away to meet them. Shaking hands, he took his gun and a staff from them. They smiled at him then continued on their circuit around the consulate. Ray turned back to the group holstering his hand gun on his hip.
"What's the fancy stick, Stanley?"
Ray glared at Vecchio. "Keep it up and I'll demonstrate one function of it on you." Suddenly spinning around, Ray knelt down and slammed one end into the ground. A loud shriek went out as the other end lit up then exploded in brilliant light causing the others to cry from pain. Ray stood grinning maniacally.
"They are sensitive to bright lights. Aside from Solar Flashes, this puppy can shoot an electric current up to twenty feet to stun a person into unconsciousness. Direct contact instantly fries any neural synapsis." He held the end up he smacked on the ground. Turning the end, six small holes appeared on cap. "Fires six explosive tipped crossbow bolts. The kind they use in logging camps to fell hard woods when a chain saw won't work. Got sixty of them spring loaded and ready to fire." He twisted the end again, the holes in the cap closed.
Still smiling, he held the flash end towards Vecchio. "Oh, yeah, one more thing." He squeezed the finger grips on it center handle and a foot long blade popped out of the top. "Don't call me Stanley, noodle dick!"
"Hey, Ray, can I have one of those, Hudson here needs a lesson in being a gentleman." Vasquez grinned at the afore mentioned man's groan. "So, we gonna hit the streets or what?"
Ray tightened his fingers on the grip and the blade retracted quickly. "Yeah, soon as fearless leader here get's his shit together." He smiled at Hicks' disapproving glare.
"Vasquez, prime the motion sensor, Hudson you man the infrared, Vecchio, you're taking point, Ray guard are rear. Switch on those flood light's people, we're going spelunking." He smiled at the groans, as they all reached in their bags, either hanging on their hips like the Rays, or their backs. He put on the head gear, one ear covered by the speaker and switched on the light. "Turn it to photo cell to conserve battery. It will switch on automatically when their isn't enough light. Vecchio, you lead, our destination is the areas just west of here, the old ware house district controlled by the mob."
"Oh god. I hate those idiots." Vecchio pulled his hand gun and clicked the safety off. "Can I shoot them even if they aren't infested?"
"Only if I don't see you do it."
"Greatness." They heard an electric build up.
"Turnbull! Turn that damn thing off, I am only allowing Vecchio." Hicks glared Ray into submission.
Ray lowered the muzzle of the staff from Vecchio's head with a muttering glare as they continued on.