Author : Clint Wilson, Staff Writer
The situation was bad; twenty-nine hostages, mostly women and children, and these guys were a whole new breed of terrorist. Similar instances as this had already ended horribly when any type of extraction was attempted. They were usually wired up heavily and vibrating on hair triggers, quite prepared to take themselves out along with everything around them at the first sign of trouble.
The Russian scientist entered the command center with his silver briefcase. An underling leaned over to his superior and whispered, “I don’t trust this Russian.”
“Never you mind. Besides, what other option do we have?”
The commander crossed the floor, hand extended in friendship. “Doctor Volstok, welcome. I expect you’ve already been briefed.”
“Da, my bugs are in position outside of the bunker. Tell me where I can set up and we’ll go in for a closer look.”
Inside the stronghold the prisoners huddled together shivering and crying on the dirty floor. Eight armed guards stood around them swatting at flies when suddenly a handful of new insects entered the room.
Back at the command center the Russian scientist manipulated the controls inside his open briefcase. “As you can see on the display gentlemen, normally this situation would be pretty much hopeless.” They could all see, through the tiny camera lenses of the robotic mayflies’ eyes, the eight terrorists with their plasma rifles and their wired vests packed with enough C9 to make a crater the size of Damascus. “Now that we have visual conformation through the mayflies, my mosquitos are in position.” He looked back to the commander. “Are you going to follow protocol and give them their final warning?”
As much as he hated to, thinking, there was no way these insane bastards would ever pay them the same courtesy, he opened the hostage negotiation comlink.
In the bunker the wall screen lit up with the commander’s brown face. The lead terrorist pointed his rifle at the screen. “Have you met all of our demands?”
“No reverend Smith. In fact I am only following protocol as laid out by the Canadian Convention of 2070. This is your final warning. Release the hostages immediately or you will be neutralized.”
The former Baptist minister and his cohorts broke out in a chorus of laughter. Smith held up his vest trigger. “Empty threats when I’m holding the magic button!”
“I’ll take that as a no then.” He pointed at Doctor Volstok, a signal to proceed.
The Russian keyed his console. Suddenly eight tiny androids built to look and act like mosquitos dropped from the ceiling and landed on the necks of the terrorists. Before a single one could react, they all dropped to the floor dead.
“Good job Doctor.” The Syrian general on the wall screen then addressed the frightened Muslims on the floor. “Please remain calm. Your captors have been neutralized. An extraction team will be there in minutes to assist you. Praise Allah you’re all safe.”
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