MIRAGE - Chapter 2
Maxwell woke up at four the next day, an hour earlier than usual, hoping Nikolai would still be asleep. He had been relieved to find that Nikolai was not hard to keep in sight, and luckily, the Singularian passed out on his bed less than an hour after dinner so that Maxwell didn't have to deal with him.
But now, he was nowhere in sight. Maxwell quickly got out of bed, silently cursing himself for not being more cautious. What a sneaky guy. Maxwell certainly wasn't a heavy sleeper, so he must have left very quietly. But wouldn't he have heard the door sliding open?
"Good morning."
Maxwell jumped a little. There was Nikolai, on the floor next to his bed, doing… push-ups?
"Oh, I thought you left and got locked out," said Maxwell. "I was getting a little worried."
"No need," said Nikolai, getting back up and dusting off his hands. He smiled and tilted his head to one side, stretching his long arms. Max could barely see all his bruises in the dim morning light. On the contrary, the glow it created on his lithe body was rather flattering. "I'm not going anywhere, at least not without telling you, if that's what you're worried about."
Maxwell shrugged. "Nah, I trust you. Hey, listen, I've got an errand to run before breakfast. Do you mind waiting here?"
Nikolai frowned, appearing thoughtful, but Maxwell suspected he was somehow disappointed by this. "Could I go for a run outside instead? I'll come back at whatever time you say."
So much for being easy to handle. "Can you use the indoor track instead?" asked Maxwell apologetically. "I'm afraid you'll get lost. It's a big place."
Nikolai immediately started to say something in response to this, but stopped, pursing his lips. "That's fine," he finally said.
"Great. I'll bring you there and you can wait for me after you're done. I won't take long."
Maybe this wasn't such a great idea, but there was nothing Maxwell could do about it. Besides, it could have been worse. After they had dressed and brushed their teeth, he led Nikolai to the gym, then dashed off to find the Marshal. The man had better be awake. What was Maxwell supposed to do with a Singularian traitor? Watch him carefully, of course, but who was he supposed to report to now? Where would they need to be every day and at what time?
"Maxwell!" a voice suddenly hissed from an open door, less than a few feet ahead of him. "Where the hell have you been? I paged you all night yesterday and you didn't answer. Why do you never turn it on? Maybe that's why no one can ever find you."
"Look, Mattie, I don't have time to talk to you; I need to ask the Marshal something important. My old pager is gone so I wouldn't be able to use it anyway."
"Oh." His sister slipped out of her room and stood in the middle of the corridor, blocking his way as best she could with her tiny figure.
"Also, it's Max now, especially to my sister. Move aside."
"Max? But you hate that name!"
"Stop talking so loud. How do you know no one is following me?"
"Because you wouldn't have said that otherwise."
She had a point. Maxwell sighed and gave up trying to shove her aside, and the moment he stopped trying, she dropped her arms and began to tag along, swinging her arms in a wide arc to keep up at the same pace.
"So? Have you met him yet?"
"Yes… His name is Nikolai and he's from Russia. Quiet guy, but surprisingly opinionated. And he doesn't mind my cooking. How's that for you?"
"They gave him two tiny rolls of bread each day for a week," said Mattie, smirking. "And he had to stand the whole time. I'm not surprised he ate your disgusting crap."
"Then maybe you're just a spoiled brat." They went a few steps further together, then Mattie quietly slipped away.
By the time Maxwell got to the Marshal's office, Marshal Carter was already standing in front of the door, fully dressed in uniform, waiting for him. He certainly did not look as glad to see Maxwell as he had been a day earlier, his kind face unusually stern this morning. "Get in," he said gruffly, nearly dragging Maxwell into the room by the shoulder.
Maxwell froze, feeling afraid of a high-ranking officer for the first time in his life.
"First of all, I never ever want to hear you talking like the same person you were before," said the Marshal, once the door had closed. "I don't care if it's to Nikolai or your sister-I won't tolerate it. Do you know how I knew you were coming? Yes, I was notified by security, and they told me they could hear every word you were saying. A transcript has already been recorded and I was able to access it. Now, imagine if someone managed to break into the security room and disarm the officers. Do I really need to explain this to you?"
"No, sir," Maxwell replied unwaveringly, not breaking eye contact for even a moment. He was starting to feel like a five-year-old.
"Good. From now on, the only place you are ever Lieutenant Maxwell is in this room, and only when the doors have closed and I somehow signal to you that it is okay, such as right now. Also, we have set up cameras in room 335 specifically. Everything that goes on in there will be recorded, but it will not been seen by security officers. Instead, that information comes directly to me and Commander Paul. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." Maxwell fought hard to hide his horror. He had just been walking around his room stark naked last night, after his shower when Nikolai had already dozed off. Perhaps he just happened to be off camera for that particular moment? Ha, fat chance.
"One last thing," said Marshal Carter, and Maxwell braced himself. "Why is Nikolai wearing a cadet uniform?"
Maxwell frowned. "Sir, you told me to get him an officer uniform-"
"I believe I introduced him as Lieutenant Nikolai," the Marshal interrupted. "He's your commanding officer now. You listen to him, not the other way around. I've explained everything to him already, but it seems he was a bit lenient with you. The way you treated him yesterday was unacceptable. There is also no need to watch him so closely all the time; that's security's job. Your job is to get him acquainted and eventually make him talk, if he has anything to say that's worth knowing. I expect you to explain your misunderstanding to him after this meeting."
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
"That's all. Now, what was the important thing you needed to ask me?"
What was it? Oh, right, where was he supposed to report to every morning… the Marshal already answered it. "It's not important, sir."
Marshal Carter shook his head and sighed, almost in a fatherly way. "I'm sorry, Maxwell," he said. "Part of this was my fault, too. I shouldn't have expected so much of you."
Ouch. Maxwell knew very well that this was certainly not meant to be an apology on the Marshal's part. He was quickly sent out of the room. Now, instead of lingering to gather his thoughts as he usually did after leaving any room, he continued on his way, knowing that his every move was being watched. It was completely unfair, an invasion of his privacy, just so they could keep some Singularian in check. A Singularian who, though unlikely, might just be the key to ending this war.
Maxwell took a deep breath. He was certainly not used to being ordered around. Be reasonable, he told himself. Nikolai was also a lieutenant and he had no trouble swallowing his dignity last night, so why should he? And after all, this was the Air Force and they were at war, and Maxwell had voluntarily committed himself to their cause. Who was he to say what was fair and what wasn't?
Nikolai had just finished his run and was fiddling with the drinking fountain, which seemed for some reason absolutely fascinating to him. He placed a finger over one sensor and a stream of pink liquid came out. He tried the next sensor and the water was yellow. Then he tried both at the same time. Maxwell walked over to him slowly, not sure if he was amused or disturbed by the fact that he would have to follow this guy's orders from now on.
"Lieutenant Nikolai."
Nikolai looked at him closely, obviously surprised.
"I'd like to apologize for how I've been treating you." Be humble, Maxwell. Be humble. "It was my mistake; I misunderstood the Marshal's orders and he just explained them to me again. Here is your new uniform, sir. And your ID badge."
"Oh." Nikolai took these hesitantly in one arm, keeping his gaze lowered. It was hard for Maxwell to tell what he was thinking. Suddenly, he looked up again, laughing softly. "I wondered. Well, there's no need to call me Lieutenant. I am, after all, your roommate."
Maxwell said nothing. By remaining so casual, Nikolai was making this even harder for him. He certainly could be hiding something. Singularians were known for their formality and discipline, but this one didn't seem to care for either.
"You have… differently flavored water," said Nikolai, breaking the silence. "I like that."
"And you don't?" Maxwell asked. The water here was something he took for granted. "The mineral content is different for each one too, but it's nothing. We have nothing comparable to your stealth bombs, your precision radars-"
"No one cares for those," said Nikolai. He sighed and dropped his hand from the fountain sensors. "What the point of having weapons if our people aren't happy?"
Security, Maxwell wanted to say, but he didn't. Power. Dignity. Peace of mind. The naivety was perhaps just a cover, but the kid had a point. If the war didn't exist, they could have all those things, in addition to flavored water, but that was just too good to be true. If only given one choice, he'd pick the weapons over colored water anyday. Who wouldn't?
"Can we have breakfast?"
"Yes, sir, of course," said Maxwell. "I'll make some right now."
"Is there a dining hall here?"
So maybe Mattie had been right about his cooking skills after all. "We have one, but there aren't many of us here right now," he said. "It only opens when there are more than a hundred to serve."
"A hundred? Where is everyone?"
"Brazil, California, New York… where you'd expect."
"Everyone? Even the reserves?"
Maxwell nodded, which took a surprising amount of effort. "We don't have that many airmen… What would you like for breakfast, sir?"
"And you? Why are you here?"
Nikolai's pressing questions were starting to make him feel queasy. "I was injured, sir," he said, which wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either. "But I'm better now." He suddenly realized that he now had to answer everything Nikolai asked. Let's have breakfast, he wanted to say. Let's head back. Let's stop talking about this. But he wasn't allowed to.
To Maxwell's relief, Nikolai dropped the subject. "Stop calling me that. That's an order. It's too late to start the formalities now." Nikolai began to head in the direction they came as if he knew exactly where he was going, then stopped. "Well, aren't you going to show me the way?"
After breakfast, they sat for a while in silence on the carpeted floor, which had served as their table just a few minutes ago. Then Maxwell picked up their dishes and went to the bathroom to clean them. When he came back, Nikolai was propped up comfortably against the base of his bed, a small smile on his lips. Maxwell raised an eyebrow, wondering what he had on his mind. He had just been shot down a week ago, survived with some minor but painful-looking injuries, been starved and interrogated for a week, and yet he was strangely calm.
"How old are you, Max?" he asked.
"Twenty-one," Maxwell replied, wondering if the Marshal would find it appropriate for him to ask Nikolai's age.
"I just turned twenty-three," said Nikolai, without waiting for the question. "Where is your family from?"
"Michigan."
"Is it nice there?" asked Nikolai, almost dreamily. "Isn't there a big lake?"
Maxwell was starting to find his childishness rather endearing. "Yes, there's a big lake," he said in a flat voice, not sure how he should respond to such a question. "There are also these fantastic puffy white clouds. All the time."
"What?" Nikolai sat up, the dreamy look from his face gone, replaced by a disbelieving smile. "Are you making fun of me?"
Actually, Maxwell had been completely serious, but they both laughed. It had been a month since Maxwell had the opportunity to laugh with another guy. He had almost forgotten what camaraderie felt like.
"We should get going in about ten minutes," Nikolai suddenly said.
"Where to?"
"The Marshal asked me to report to him at 0700, and you're supposed to come with me."
It really bothered Maxwell that Marshal Carter was telling Nikolai things that would make Maxwell's life easier if he had known earlier, not to mention the fact that Nikolai seemed to be withholding all this information from him. Get used to it, he told himself. You're an airman now.
When they arrived, there were already five other people in the Marshal's office, including Mattie and Commander Paul, a thin severe-looking man with a funny mustache, and the Marshal had apparently just finished explaining something important. The hologram projector in the middle of the table flickered, and Maxwell barely recognized it as a detailed map of Rome, most likely an updated version given to the Marshal by Nikolai. He glanced at his watch: 0655. He had just begun to think of how much he hated people who arrived too early for appointments, when the Marshal spoke.
"Please, join us, Lieutenant Nikolai. You are not late. "
Nikolai took the empty spot at the other end of the table and Maxwell squeezed in between him and Mattie, feeling like a bodyguard.
"First, I'd like you to meet Kennedy, the youngest member of our engineering team," said the Marshal, gesturing toward the man who stood across from Maxwell. Maxwell suspected they were around the same age. He had thick curly hair and a long crooked nose that crinkled when he smiled. Maxwell had never seen him before. "He's the genius behind the PG-340."
Genius indeed. Which plane model was PG-340? Maxwell felt like the only person in the room who didn't know. Nikolai shook Kennedy's hand firmly and nodded.
"Next, we have Linda."
Linda was a gorgeous young woman who could pass for a native from South Asia, which gave her an edge as a spy, not to mention she was just about the smartest person Maxwell knew. Yes, he knew her personally. They had been in the same class for two years and spoke to each other quite often back then, before Maxwell dropped out of the Intelligence Academy to attend the Air Force Academy. Now they had to pretend not recognize each other. So she knew what Maxwell was here for. Even though they wouldn't be able to talk about the old days, Maxwell was secretly glad to see her again.
"She is not part of our air force, but a member of our intelligence agency," Marshal Carter explained. "Nevertheless, she has no trouble piloting our planes."
"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant," said Linda, shaking Nikolai's hand. She was much more reserved now than Maxwell remembered.
"This is Pilot Officer Jonathan," said the Marshal, putting a hand on Jonathan's shoulder. Jonathan grinned at this, then immediately wiped the look off his face the moment Marshal Carter turned to him. Maxwell had never seen him before either. "He's your ammunition and explosives expert."
"And finally, this is Matilda. She's one of our latest enlistees and a skilled pilot like her brother Maxwell. Of course, I don't need to introduce you to Commander Paul or Maxwell, as you already know them both."
Nikolai gave Maxwell a sideways glance and smiled, almost shyly, in the split second the Marshal was not looking at them. For some reason, this tiny gesture made Maxwell feel much better, despite the fact that he was just about the lowest ranking member in the room right now. Perhaps it also meant Nikolai might be willing to confide in him things he would never tell the Marshal or anyone else…
"Excluding Commander Paul and myself, you have all been chosen to carry out Operation MIRAGE, which Lieutenant Nikolai will now explain to us now."
Maxwell hid his surprise. MIRAGE wasn't just referring to his identity change, but rather, that was just part of a much larger operation. So Nikolai wasn't aware of the whole story. Maxwell now suspected none of them knew everything, not even the Marshall, but only bits and pieces that would add up to the whole. Finally, things were getting interesting.
"Thank you, Marshal Carter. The goal of this operation is to disarm Rome, which means shutting down all its facilities and taking its three main leaders captive within six months. It should be done quietly and with minimal casualties and destruction, if everything goes according to plan. You are all pilots, but we've decided to assign each member a specific role according to his or her specialty. Kennedy and Officer Jonathan will be our machinery experts: Kennedy will take charge of the plane engine, security, and communication. Officer Jonathan will decide what we use where and when, based on immediate needs, whether it's a long-range missile or a handgun."
Wow, brief and straight to the point. His eloquence and confidence were impressive, and as Maxwell looked around the room, he could tell that everyone else on their team was impressed too. Maybe it wasn't so bad, having Nikolai as their leader. The kid certainly had something in him.
"Linda, I'm guessing, is supposed to be our information expert. Your job will be to gather necessary information, and once we're in the capital, you can expect to be away from the aircraft quite often. You may even need some sort of disguise, although I don't think that would be difficult."
"No, sir," said Linda with a smug grin. There was the old Linda that Maxwell knew so well.
"Max is our main pilot-" Nikolai paused, appearing hesitant for the first time since they stepped into the room, and Maxwell himself almost blushed as he realized why. But Nikolai quickly corrected himself. "Maxwell is our main pilot, and Matilda will be his co-pilot. Marshal Carter and I have decided to split this mission into three smaller tasks. First, we will test the security of the western Roman border and return to develop a plan to enter the city. Next, we enter Rome, gather information, and create a safe route into the city. Linda will keep us updated on the latest inside news. I already have a detailed plan for quietly disabling enough sensors to make the route, but I will need your help, Kennedy. The third time around, Pangaean air troops will easily enter the city through this route, keeping Singularian troops occupied while we complete the mission."
It sounded like an impossible mission, but for once, they had a concrete operation under way, and one that was worth trying. How long has it been since Nikolai arrived? Less than a week? This was the kind of efficiency Maxwell had dreamt of. He watched as Nikolai entered something into the computer and the hologram switched to a map of Italy.
"Security is tightest within the three-to-five-mile radius of the capital, where another hidden military base is located, right here. After we get past those two miles, we should have no problem getting to the center of the capital."
"Easy to say," said Commander Paul, twirling his mustache with one finger. He still looked suspicious of Nikolai, glaring at him through narrowed eyes. Maxwell never liked him very much and found him rather pretentious. "But no Pangaean has ever gotten within twenty miles of Rome on a plane, not to mention five. Why are you not considering spacecraft as a quicker and more precise option? That way, you could go straight into Rome without worrying about security."
"Going into space would not be discreet enough," explained Nikolai. "Without any interference, our satellite sensors would easily spot an incoming spacecraft, and Rome would soon be expecting our arrival. Landing the spacecraft would also pose a problem-Rome is crowded, unlike the large open areas here. We need to remain unnoticed, Commander, and getting to the five-mile point is only the first part. I'm familiar with the geography in the region and we should have no trouble getting there. There are several regions of the Apennine Mountains that are not as well guarded. They are not easy to navigate, but with such talented pilots, I'm sure we can handle it."
Maxwell felt a little tingle down his spine, but he remained expressionless.
"How will we get past the air sensors there?" asked Kennedy. "Our pilots have tried in the past, but their planes are detectable, even in the mountainous areas."
"The ground sensors recognize a certain sequence of codes encrypted into all of our machinery. For example, my ID card here has a coded device. Unlike your magnetic detectors, we use radioactive Scandium for encryption, manipulated specifically for this purpose. The beta decay rate-the main code source-is detected by our sensors when the device gets within a certain range, and this must be recognizable by the security system for the vehicle to safely cross the border. If they don't recognize it or if there is no signal at all, the alarm goes off and motion-detecting missiles take down the vehicle. Of course, that's only the first line of defense."
"Scandium," Kennedy repeated, almost gleefully. "So that's the secret."
"Don't they need the pilot to be alive?" asked Mattie. Maxwell pinched her arm but she shook him off. "What if he dies?"
Nikolai smiled grimly. "That's the point. The Singularian government doesn't care for interrogating prisoners anymore. They think they're nearing victory and all they need to do now is prevent any interference, but they have no idea how wrong they are."
"Our engineers have taken apart at least twenty Singularian planes," said Kennedy. "Why weren't we able to find this device earlier if it really uses beta emission? And more importantly, where will we get this much Scandium in the amount of time we have?"
"My plane already has the device and we can remove it. You might even be able to develop a long-range sensor for it in the future, if you ever need to. You won't detect it with a normal beta-particle detector, since the beta emission rate is small compared to everything surrounding the device, but I know where it is. Besides, it's small-about the size of your fingernail or a computer's hard drive."
How the hell did he know all this stuff? This kind of information would be top secret here, known only to people like Kennedy and his team of engineers.
"For an air force officer, you know an awful lot about the security setup," said Linda, voicing Maxwell's thoughts.
"It's something that has interested me for a long time," said Nikolai. "I admit I haven't been a very honest Singularian, but what use would I be to you if I didn't know all of this?"
Linda nodded in acceptance, but Commander Paul was still giving him the same suspicious look. "Please, Lieutenant Nikolai, let's get back to the point. You say that your first task will be to explore the western border at the five-mile point. What exactly do you mean by this and how do you plan to do it?"
"Well, as we get close to this area, there may be up to five or six sensors concentrated within one square mile. If everything goes according to plan, our main aircraft will immediately be recognized as one of their own and ignored, at least until a security worker notices any suspicious activity. At this point, it is possible to have a smaller plane hover within 200 meters above the main aircraft without being detected, in areas with few sensors because of the linear way the ground sensors work. If there are many sensors, their signals will intersect and they will recognize the smaller plane as a separate entity. In this case, a single test missile will be released to tail the suspect plane, controlled by the sensors. If the plane attempts to escape the missile, more missiles will be released.
"My plan is to have one pilot hover over our main aircraft." Nikolai demonstrated with both hands, one over the other, moving together at a steady pace. "If a missile is released, the pilot will quickly pull closer and closer to home until it becomes undetectable again, and we will have a good idea of how many sensors are in the region, based on the final distance between the two aircrafts. The pilot will need to remain very calm and dodge the returning missile each time without leaving the main aircraft's path. If the pilot panics and leaves the path-"
And this, Nikolai demonstrated again with his hands, moving the one on top faster than the other so that they no longer overlapped. "-then there's not much the rest of us can do. We will have to do all of this quickly, for an hour at most, to avoid raising any suspicion, and cover most of the western three-to-five-mile radius. Hopefully, by the time we are finished, we'll have a good idea of where the least protected region is located, and our next task will be to disable all sensors in that area."
"Sounds like a plan to me," said Jonathan. Maxwell secretly agreed, although the thought of dodging missile after missile was a bit unnerving. How many would there be before they finished? Was there any chance of the missile hitting the main aircraft?
Commander Paul frowned, but didn't say anything.
"Who's going to be that pilot?" Mattie asked.
Maxwell resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What kind of stupid question was that? Of course, it would be him. Didn't she hear Nikolai say he would be their main pilot?
"You," said Nikolai.
And it took Maxwell a few seconds to realize that Nikolai had not been talking to him.
- - -
Chapters: 1
FP Link: http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2692936/2/MIRAGE