|The Assassination Factor (standard:science fiction, 12029 words)|
|Author: Nathaniel MIller||Added: Oct 23 2019||Views/Reads: 219/127||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|A sniper team traverses time to eliminate a high profile target before he joins the terrorist team but the profile is a kid. The sniper has to make a choice, future nightmares of killing a young boy or time in the balance.|
The Assassination Factor: By Nathaniel Miller “Major Christopher, this is Warrant Officer Anne Johnson, Liaison officer at Presidio Station Headquarters, I have news for you. The General has approved your request and needs to see you at Headquarters. Please report at fourteen hundred hours today. Please note, the Ambassador of Earth, and the Ambassador of Andromeda will be on hand during this briefing, so the dress is working uniform. Headquarters Out... BEEP~!” Major John Christopher stood in the alcove staring at a mirror in silence, the message playing in his head over and over as he stood staring at the image in the mirror. He had just arrived here at Headquarters an hour ago and he now waits for his meeting with the General and his staff. John glanced and grimaced at the image in the mirror, at the sandy haired, blue eyed, grizzled face of a thirty year old who stared back at him. It is a face that had seen a lot in the last few years since he had enlisted in the Earth Defense Alliance back in twenty three thirty. There would be nightmares that he would never get over and the images of many around him being chopped to pieces during the many campaigns he had served off shore and even off planet. But now that was about to change into something drastically different. It had been two months since his last mission and it had been a tough one where then Captain Christopher and his team barely got out. He and his team had completed the assignment, but not without seven dead and four wounded. It was a nightmare of a mission in which he had to assassinate a dictator on Rigel Colony, (almost single handedly when most of his crew was chopped to pieces) which proved to be the most difficult of his entire career. And the trouble of it all they had put him on a rest leave after his return, even though they completed the mission. He hated the entire affair being off duty as the higher ups reviewed the mission. They had indirectly blamed him for the team's deaths but he had already proven the shoddy intelligence, and brief was responsible for the foul up for that mission that had slaughtered the team of young men and women. Now he was going crazy. The Major had made many requests, been praying for a mission, anything to break the monotony of being idle, wanting to get back to work, and reactive to duty to take his mind off the incident of last mission. And for his penance, Command finally gave him one. A mission that he did not know would deeply put the hook in him and be intriguing and test the very principles he stood for and his military career stood for. Now he stood in the waiting room, a few minutes away from the meeting that would once again put him back into active status. The Major tugged at the neckline of the working uniform he wore at this moment, starting at the mirror at the image of a veteran soldier before him, a grizzled face, blue-gray eyes, the familiar green and black uniform and the gold clusters glistening in the fluorescent light. Major Christopher hated the working uniform of the Space Marines, and the mandarin cut neckline and trim Spartan cut of the uniform itself. But for this meeting, he would be meeting with Ambassadors of Earth, and a couple of Ambassadors from the Federation planets, who had taken an interest in Earth's discovery, so first impressions were important. John Christopher's eyes trailed casually away from the mirror, and to the waiting room. The room that he occupies is open and airy, colored sterile white trimmed in a light brown with a familiar logo emblazoned on a partition that separated the outer passage and this waiting room. It has thick, blue carpets, and many plush furnishings. A tiled walkway runs through the center of it and an onyx desk sits in the very center of the room, manned by three people. Around him, standing against the walls, guards are posted and they are clad in nasty looking battle-armor, holding automatic weapons. The room itself reminds him of the office in which he reported to be checked out medically for his enlist in the alliance. He shuddered at the thought and sighed realizing that it had been a long time from that point. The waiting room made him feel uncomfortable, not welcomed as it was so designed to see Command personnel. He did not like the waiting or the room's feeling and he did not know the reason why. In addition to its size and Spartan furnishings, the room also has two or more Bay windows overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, and the inlet of the San Francisco Click here to read the rest of this story (1231 more lines)
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