Getting a Technology System in Modern Day



In a barracks on Avalon Island.

A red warning light flashed and a siren sounded. It was a call to general assembly, and all of the soldiers in the barracks immediately dropped what they were doing and ran to the armory. There, after they formed up, they waited for instructions and Athena appeared before them in their AR glasses.

"One minute eleven seconds," she began. "I'm disappointed. SOP calls for assembly within 60 seconds of the alert sounding, but you lot," she gestured, sweeping her arm across in front of her, "thought it was more important to get dressed than to get here!"

If they hadn't been standing at attention, the soldiers in front of Athena would have hung their heads in shame. Theirs was no normal barracks and they were no normal ARES soldiers. This was home to a Reaper battalion, and only the elites among the elites were housed there.

"We'll do better next time, ma'am!" they chorused at the top of their lungs.

"If this had been an actual emergency, you would be dead now. Keep that in mind, scabs!" Athena scolded. Though she appeared mad at them, she only felt a little irritation; eleven seconds was eleven seconds, but at least they weren't standing before her in their underwear. She could take comfort in that much, if nothing else.

"Down to business," she said. "I've got deployment orders for you. If your number is called, step to my left and form up with your teams. Team one—"

"Here, ma'am!" the Reapers of Reaper Team One shouted.

"I said move, not make my ears itch! Team three, team seven, and team eight, join team one to my left. The rest of you lot, dismissed!" Athena snapped and the teams in front of her sorted themselves out as ordered.

"Right. Make yourselves comfortable and join me in the briefing room. Fall out!"

...

The four Reaper teams logged into the VR briefing room, where Athena was waiting for them. Though it was unnecessary, she glanced at her wrist as if she was wearing a watch, then began the briefing.

"At 0931 hours today, orders came down from the top. You four teams are being tasked with establishing forward operating bases and eliminating or coopting local hostile forces. For this task, each of your teams will be assigned a Nyx agent and appropriate equipment for the locale. Each of you will be issued your standard kit, plus one classified kit carried by the agent.

"Team one, you'll be headed to the Caucasus Mountain Range. Avoid contact with locals at all costs—if you're discovered, your mission will be scrubbed. Head to Karaleti, Georgia, and make your way north to Mount Shani. There, you're to make yourselves comfortable and establish Forward Operating Base Bellerophon.

"Team three, you'll be headed to Colombia, where you will be eliminating or coopting the forces of the Medellin Cartel and taking over their territory. If you are discovered, your mission will be scrubbed and you will be disavowed. So don't be discovered. You may choose any of their coca plantations or cocaine processing facilities to establish Forward Operating Base Perseus.

"Team seven, you're to head to Mexico. Culiacán Rosales, to be precise, in Sinaloa, where your task is to eliminate or coopt the forces of the Sinaloa Cartel and establish Forward Operating Base Odysseus. If you are discovered, your mission will be scrubbed and you'll be disavowed.

"Team eight, you're headed to Somalia. Your task is to eliminate the terrorist group Harakat al-Shabaab al-Mujahideen and take over their territory, where you will establish Forward Operating Base Ganymede on the coast. If you are discovered, your mission will not be scrubbed. Your team will have air support from the Archangel squadron AO-1, so go sow the wind and reap the storm.

"You all have your orders. From today, you have exactly two weeks to make this happen. I'm not going to hold your hands on this one—you're no longer recruits or trainees, you are Reapers! So go forth and reap. Dismissed!"

The briefing room dissolved from around the teams and, with a brief stop at the armory to draw their equipment, they headed to the airstrip to meet their Nyx agents and transports.

...

In the air somewhere over Colombia.

Master Sergeant Jason Cordova, leader of ARES Reaper Team Three, was in a transport chopper above a sea of green treetops on his way to the Andes. He was confident and ready, he was sure of that, but for some reason his toes kept twitching in his boots. It was always like that for him; even in training, where he knew even in the fog of exhaustion that he was in no real danger of losing his life, he was still nervous before each mission.

He had performed well in training and was assigned the rank of Master Sergeant when he graduated, then posted with Reaper Team Three as the leader. But that nervous tic of his had accompanied him each step of the way.

He was used to it, now.

"Fifteen minute warning!" the chopper pilot announced and the light in the cabin went from a comforting yellow to an alert red. Everyone in the team logged out of VR and did the final checks on their weapons and gear.

The Nyx agent was an enigma. Wrapped in a black bodysuit with a midnight blue and dark gray web vest over the top, black leather fingerless gloves on her hands, and charcoal gray combat boots, she had neither said a word nor moved an inch through the entire trip from Eden to Colombia. On her lap was a large suitcase made of what appeared to be ruggedized, blued steel.

The team finished their checks and Jason's AR display listed each of his seven squadmates' names in green.

They were ready.

...

"One minute to drop zone," the pilot announced and the sliding doors on the sides of the transport helicopter opened. The red light that had begun flashing at the two minute warning was now turned off, leaving them in the dark of night.

The helicopter dropped low and the team waited out the final seconds before their mission began, each of them counting along with the timer displayed on their AR glasses.

"Drop, drop, drop!" the pilot ordered and the team fell out of the helicopter, followed by their attached Nyx agent. 

As they dropped, a line extended from the helicopter to their gear, slowing their fall and allowing them to land unharmed. They looked around, finding themselves on a hill overlooking a mountainside villa where the leadership of the Medellin Cartel was meeting.

It was time for the cartel to meet the reapers, and then, perhaps, their makers.

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