Free Operation Southern Cross - 02 by Jack Shane

replacement had all new Galaxy Net gear installed as well: navigation systems, advanced GPS, virtual reality readouts that would be available to every copter in the unit with the push of a button.
    Even their copters’ paint jobs were cool. At the moment, the aircraft appeared solid gray. But according to Weir, at night they turned a sinister black. Because they were infused with thousands of tiny magnesium nodules, under the right conditions, when these nodules would heat up and illuminate themselves, they could create a sparkling effect that mimicked the stars in the night sky. With copters able to literally get one with the stars, XBat would become more stealthy, more quiet. Almost invisible.
    McCune finally turned to Autry. “Do these things really belong to us, sir?”
    Autry was still in a stupor. “That seems to be the case,” he said. “The question is, what do they want us to do with them?”
    That’s when Weir pulled out another set of yellow sheets.
    “Damn— new orders?” Autry asked him.
    The agent nodded. “I’m sorry, Bobby,” he said. “But something else has come up.”
     
     
    THEY WALKED TOWARD THE END OF THE FLIGHT DECK, away from the rest of the unit. Autry grew more pissed off with every step.
    “What’s with this crap?” he asked Weir harshly. “You, above all people, should know we haven’t had a break for weeks. And I’m not just talking about time in training, but doing actual missions. We just ran two in five days, for Christ’s sake. Some Special Ops teams don’t run two missions in a year. We can’t keep going on forever. I’ve got to get these guys home.”
    Weir stopped and confronted Autry. “Don’t you think I’d like to go home too, Bobby?” he asked him angrily. “That would be a dream come true for me right now. But I can’t go—you know why? Because the whole fucking world is falling apart and I’m a guy with a pack of Band-aids trying to keep it together. That’s the business I’m in—and it’s the business you’re in. And there’s nothing our friends in Washington can do about it either—except give you all new equipment for your new mission.”
    Another mission, Autry groaned inside. Their third in less than a week. Could his guys take it? Could he ?
    They resumed walking and finally reached the end of the flight deck. Weir lit a cigarette and threw the expended match overboard. They’d both calmed down a bit.
    “Things are getting very strange out there,” Weir said, indicating the world beyond the old carrier. “There’s some weird shit going on, all around the globe, yet no one can put their finger on what’s happening, exactly.”
    He took a long drag of his cigarette then let out a cloud of smoke.
    “I mean, the problems with the Galaxy Net are one thing,” he went on, “though I’ve been assured that all your new gear will work OK. But it’s more than that. Every hot spot around the world got a little hotter just in the past week. The Middle East. Southwest Asia. Northeast Asia. The Taiwan Straits. The shit you guys ran into the other night only added to the problem. It’s like a box of hand grenades, all with their pins pulled, ready to go off at any moment.”
    Another drag. Another cloud of smoke.
    “Plus, like I said, every other black ops team is booked heavy somewhere else, and…”
    But Autry was already tuning him out. He didn’t give a damn about the world falling part. The world was always falling apart. All he wanted was to get home and see his wife again, plain and simple, with maybe a little down time beforehand so he could get his shit together. He looked at his watch. He had just six days and a couple hours before his rendezvous with her. A typical Special Ops mission lasted about three days, so there was a chance he could do this new job and still get back up to Georgia in time to meet her. The trouble was, few Special Ops missions were typical.
    He snapped out of his haze. “So where the hell do they want us to