GI JOE

Worlds Without End, The Return

By – Josh Hilden

Mission Report #GIJ-023859

Classified Top Secret (Eyes Only)

          Under the command of their leader Zartan, the Dreadnocks stole the prototype of the Matter Transmutor device. In their rush to deliver the unit to Cobra, who’d contracted the operation for an unknown sum, the Dreadnocks fell into our prearranged ambush. We managed to regain possession of the Matter Transmutor but the Dreadnocks escaped. In the firefight one of our Mauler class Main Battle Tanks (MBT) was lost.

          While attempting to guard the device and the research crew, who’d been secreted onto an unmarked train, Lady Jay and Flint discovered that Zartan and Baroness had replaced the head researcher and commanding General. In the resulting battle the Matter Transmutor was overloaded and a wooden railroad trestle bridge was changed to glass. Lady Jay, Flint, Airtight, Barbeque, Clutch, Grunt, and Steeler disappeared in the explosion and were feared deceased.

          According to the individual reports filled by Flint, Lady Jay, Barbeque, and Airtight they found themselves in the same physical location but in another version of Earth, an alternate reality. According to them on this world the events on the MASS Device crisis ended not with the defeat of the terrorist organization known as Cobra, but with the destruction of G.I. Joe and the surrender of the nations of the world.

          The world they recounted is a nightmare.

          With power split three ways between Cobra Commander, Destro, and the Baroness. The world was reverted to a state not known since the dark ages. The order of the day was slavery for the common people and the promotion of an elite class who revealed in power and debauchery.

          If not for help from an unexpected quarter we never would have learned any of this. In the other world the Baroness is an ally of G.I. Joe and the leader of the resistance movement. She used her position of power to ignite a civil war between Cobra Commander and Destro while making it possible for our team to find the shrinking breach between worlds and return home. At the last minute Steeler, Grunt, and clutch elected to stay behind and assist the Baroness in her efforts to bring down the Cobra Empire.

          After collating all available information it is my recommendation that all efforts must be made to recreate the breaching incident. It is a safe bet that based on the more advanced level of technology on the other Earth we would be at a disadvantage if the wrong side won their conflict and came looking for us.

- Colonel Clayton M. Abernathy, Codename: Hawk

Prologue

          “Is the device ready?” the younger man asks. The exhaustion in his voice fills the cavernous space. “We don’t have much longer before they think to check here and I for one want to be on the other side long before then.”

          Once, many years ago, the building would have been a hive of activity. Now it was half collapsed and abandoned. Except for the basement facility which was carefully maintained, despite the strife of the last decade, the complex was nothing more than another of the thousands of burnt out husks dominating the landscape. If a little effort was put into a search the faded but still legible markings from a destroyed world could still be found.

          “We’re ready to go,” the older man replied in his deep raspy voice. The patch covering where his right eye had once been was tattered and frayed. He walked on a simple wooden cane and his body was riddled with scar tissue. “The last of the catalytic elements is in place.”

          The younger man placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “You don’t have to stay here Professor. I’ve checked the system and we can let it run on automatic, there is more than enough fuel to send both of us.”

          The Professor shakes his head, his long gray ponytail shaking back and forth in the dusty damp air. “I can’t son. I’ve seen and done too much. I barely have enough strength to send you through.” He places his hand on the younger man’s hand and squeezes it. “Besides it’s your home not mine.”

          “This is my home, you are my family,” the man says trying hard not to cry. “You’re all I have now… now that she’s gone.”

          The conversation is broken by the sounds of crashing and shouting from above.

          “There is no more time for discussion, you need to get in the carriage,” the Professor says raising his withered hand to forestall any further conversation. “If there is any hope for us we need to get word to them.”

          The younger man nods reluctantly.

          “Now get inside before they make it down here,” the Professor snapped all business. The time for pleasantries and sentiment were well passed. This was the endgame.

          The fire doors at the top of the stairs reverberated with the sounds of a battering ram slamming against them. The sounds of a man calling for explosives were clear despite the thickness of the doors.

          “Get in the carriage now!” the Professor ordered.

          The man didn’t argue, instead he slipped inside the bell shaped vehicle and bolted the airtight door shut. There were five places for people to strap themselves in but he was the only one to have survived long enough to take the trip. He quickly buckled the belts and tightened the straps.

          The room shook as the fire doors were blown from their hinges. Black clad soldiers flooded into the basement.

          The Professor looked through the carriage’s window and smiled at his friend who was more like a son than a comrade in arms. Then he threw the final switch. The carriage rose a dozen feet off the floor and began to spin counter clockwise.

          The room filled with a brilliant white and blue light.

          “Good luck Steeler,” the Professor who’d once been know by the more whimsical name of “Sparks” said as the carriage disappeared into the ether.

Chapter One

Cobra Island, Gulf of Mexico

          “What is the status of our teams in Antarctica?” Cobra Commander asked, his ever-present lisp more pronounced in his uncertainty. “Have we secured McMurdo Station or not, Sebastian?”

          The virtual throne room existed only in the secured realm of the Cobra Net. The Commander was the only member of Cobra leadership currently physically residing on the tiny island nation. It was never a good idea to have too many of the leadership caste in one place. G.I. Joe, not to mention other special operations groups from around the globe kept a sharp eye on the island and surrounding waters. If not for the threat of the island’s arsenal of super weapons they would have been invaded.

          “The Polar Vipers are on scene,” Major Sebastian Bludd said in his slick Australian accent. He was clad in heavy arctic camouflage and the sound of the intense blowing wind could be heard in the background. “They were ready to move on the station when a squadron of American choppers arrived and disgorged a company of Special Forces troops commanded by Flint.”

          “Damn it!” the Commander cried out slamming his gloved fist into his desk. “How could they have known we were coming? That’s the only thing that makes sense Sebastian. They knew.”

          “Do you think we have a mole on the island Commander?” Bludd looked concerned. Everyone knew what happened to traitors in the organization. Nobody wanted to talk or think about what’d happened to Zandar.

          “Here or in one of our other bases Sebastian,” the Commander muttered looking at his tablet computer and making a few notations. “Do you think you can pull the mission off with the new forces there?”

          Bludd paused and thought. The Commander was known to sometimes order insane missions against impossible odds when provoked, you needed to know how to handle him without him realizing he was being handled. Taking a deep breath Bludd answered, “Sir, if you order it we’ll try but I don’t give us good odds of succeeding.”

          The Commander sighed, slipped his hand under his hood, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Very well Sebastian, there’s no point in wasting good men on this mission. Get back to the sub and make for the Patagonian base.”

          “Yes Commander,” Bludd said snapping to attention and slamming his clenched fist to his heart, “Cobra!”

          The Commander killed the feed and settled back into his seat.

          “We are losing,” he muttered to the empty room.

          For the last six months the Joe’s and their allied forces had been three steps ahead of Cobra. They’d lost the initiative and getting it back was looking more and more impossible.

          “If we were just losing ground in combat missions it would be bad enough,” he said rising up and storming to the bar, he poured himself a drink and mused further. “They’ve been freezing assets, seizing real-estate, and shutting down our online operations whenever they uncover them.”

          He downed the drink in one gulp and threw the glass into the fireplace. The roaring fire consumed the shattered glass and flared as it ignited the remnants of alcohol. The light of the fire was the only source of illumination in the room.

          “We need something big, something to get us back on the offensive,” the commander muttered tapping his foot on the hard stone of the floor. “The world has changed and perhaps we haven’t changed fast enough with it.”

          “Perhaps what you need is a new ally,” a second voice said from the shadows, “or maybe an old one.”

          Cobra Commander might not be a front line fighter but he’s always been one to take precautions. He dropped to the floor, rolled towards his desk, and in one swift motion he’d retrieved is broad muzzle plasma pistol from its concealed spring clip.

          “I don’t know who you are,” he said from behind the shelter of the armored desk, “and I have no idea how you got in here. But only one of us will be leaving this place alive!”

          “Are you sure about that…” the speaker said stepping out from the shadows and into the light, “Father?”

          The Commander dropped his weapon to the floor and stared in shock. “Billy?”

Chapter Two

Two Months Later, Washington DC

          “That’s the fourth aircraft to disappear near Cobra Island in the last week,” Admiral Ledger said from his position at the head of the table. The current Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was looking tired and haggard. “We have absolutely zero evidence Cobra is responsible despite there being no other logical cause. The President needs answers people.”

          “Sir,” General Manning, the newly promoted Aerospace Force Chief staff, said. “We’ve tasked one of the stealth observation satellites to take station above Cobra Island.”

          “We’ve had satellite surveillance over the island since it was created,” General Flagg, the Army Chief of Staff, intoned. “Not to mention the birds flown by the Europeans, Chinese, and Russians. The scattering field that bastard Destro set up has negated them. All we get are fuzzy images and static filled radio intercepts.”

          “The new Hunter class satellites were designed by a work group within the G.I. Joe division,” General Manning said. Manning was doing her best to prove that the new Aerospace Force was a worthy successor to the old Air Force. Also as the first female Chief of Staff she had more than a few male assumptions to dispel.

          “Oh that’s just great,” General Taylor, Commandant of the Marine Corp, groaned at the mention of the Joes.

          “Is there a problem General Taylor?” Ledger asked.

          “No sir,” he hesitated then continued. “The Joe program has been draining large amounts of money, personnel, and equipment from the other branches since the 1950’s, to do a job the regular military and Special Forces could handle.”

          “The Joes are good PR and they do the dirty work the government needs to disavow,” Ledger said dismissively. “Besides they are the only ones equipped to handle the… stranger threats to the country and the human race. Trust me General, I’ve been there with them and we need them.”

          “We’ve been fighting two public wars and half a dozen secret ones since the turn of the millennium and I am finding it very hard to justify the amount of resources channeled to the Joes,” Taylor muttered.

          “Be that as it may General, but right now we are meeting to deal with this new mystery, later if you want to raise the issue of Joe funding we’ll discuss it,” Ledger finished in a tone which left no question that the conversation was over.

          Taylor nodded and returned his full attention to the situation at hand.

          “We have one of the Hunters at the Moon Base and we can have it inserted into orbit within the hour,” Manning said ignoring the back and forth that’d just taken place, she was a by the book officer.  “I just need your go ahead.”

          Ledger scrolled through images of Cobra Island displayed on the main screen. The first were from the day of the rising when a series of nuclear explosions ripped up the sea floor in the gulf thrusting the island to the surface. One by one he scrolled through a time lapse of images showing the development of the island nation until he reached the ones from two months earlier.

          “This is when it happened,” he said freezing the image in place. “One hour before this was taken we had a crystal clear image of the island. Then on the next pass it was covered in electromagnetic haze. We have tried every form of covert surveillance and come up with nothing.”

          “Sir, I know it’s worrying but it’s just Cobra,” General Taylor Chimed in. “They’re dangerous but we’ve always been able to handle them, they have more schemes in action than personnel to handle them.”

          “That’s just it General, I’ve had our liaisons in the CIA take a hard look and Cobra has gone silent on all fronts. Other than their actual legitimate operations all Cobra assets have gone to ground,” Ledger finished rubbing his temples in frustration.

          “So the Hunter Sat?” Manning prodded. She needed the Admirals authorization before doing something that might lead to shooting conflict with Cobra.

          “Do it, I’ll brief the Secretary,” he said nodding. “We’ll get the answers one way or the other.”

Chapter Three

One Week Later

USS Javelin, Gulf of Mexico

          “In and out, we do this right and nobody will even know we were there,” Beachhead grunted. He was methodically breaking down and reassembling his sidearm in the small airlock. “In and out no problem.”

          The insertion team of Beachhead, Wetsuit, Deep Six, and Torpedo had been prepared and ready to enter the water for the last two hours. The mission had been put together on the fly following the destruction of the Hunter satellite a week ago over Cobra Island.

          “Man I have a bad feeling about this,” Torpedo chimed in his soft Hawaiian accent filling the room and it had a calming effect even if his words didn’t. “I was chatting with Dial Tone back in Utah before we went radio silent and he’s pretty freaked out about what happened to his satellite.”

          “Have they figured anything out?” Wet Suit asked. The normally cocky warrior was looking especially stressed. The waiting was getting to him and he latched onto the subject like a life preserver.

          “Something based on the island shot it out of the sky, the energy signature was like nothing the boys and girls with the thick glasses have seen before,” Deep Six whispered. The taciturn man, despite his size, almost seemed to disappear in the shadows of the confined chamber.

          The light in the center of the chamber flashed a steady green.

          “Alright boys,” Beachhead called out, “masks on!”

          The four men, each trained to be one of the most lethal and resourceful warriors in the United States Navy, slipped the transparent breathing helmets over their heads. Each was a well-disciplined machine and there was no need for orders, but the regimentation tended to settle them so Beachhead continued.

          “Check the circuit.”

          The men connected and checked the group communications network. Exterior communications ended and all verbalizations were now transmitted on their closed encrypted network.

          “Pressurize helmets.”

          Each man opened their oxygen supply and pressurized their combat diving helmets.

          “Final check!”

          Each man checked the systems integrated in their armor.

          “Flooding the chamber!”

          Beachhead flipped a switch and the pressure chamber quickly filled with seawater. The carbon nano fiber mesh which formed the skin suit foundation of their combat armor along with being tear proof and bullet resent was thermal reactive. As long as the temperature didn’t drop below negative fifty degrees or raise above one hundred and forty the wearers would always remain comfortable. The skin suits were modular and could be adapted for use in all known environments.

          “Opening the hatch.”

          They all tensed as Beachhead threw the final switch and the exterior hatch opened. Each of the men activated the micro thrusters located at strategic points on their combat suit and were propelled into the dark waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Chapter Four

Classified Military Hospital, American South West

          “This is unacceptable!” Duke raged throwing open the door to the intensive care unit. “How long did he sit as a John Doe in a public hospital before someone finally decided to run his prints?”

          “He was so messed up when they found him that the emergency room doctors didn’t think he’d make it,” Doc replied following his commanding officer and best friend into the climate controlled room. He looked at the tablet as his free hand scrolled down until he had the information Duke requested. “Two months.”

          “What?!” Duke said coming to a halt and turning to stare at Doc. “He was sitting alone and forgotten for two months?” The professional soldier was too stunned to even be angry.

          “The NYPD found him on the banks of the East River.” Doc scrolled faster. “He was heavily burnt and already unconscious. They stabilized him and once it was safe to take him off life support he’d already slipped into a coma. There is brain activity, but he has yet to come out of it.”

          Duke took a place next to the bed and looked down at the freshly bandaged man. The burns were partially healed and a thin covering of new blond hair, graying at the temples, covered his head.

          “It’s been ten years, why have you come home now Steeler?” he asked the unconscious man, “and how?”

          “This can’t be good,” a voice from the doorway said.

          Both of the men turned to see Alison Hart-Burnett, formerly the Joe known as Lady Jaye, standing there.  Instead of the olive drab uniform and case of multi-headed javelins she looked tight and gorgeous in a black and white standard issue NSA suit.

          “Lady Jaye,” Doc cried walking over and taking his former teammate in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you.”

          “You too Doc, but it’s Special Agent Fairborn or Alison these days,” she said hugging the older man back.

          “You’ll always be Lady Jaye to me,” Doc retorted releasing her and smiling sadly. “But I wish you’d come to visit under better circumstances.”

          “Me too Doc,” she whispered then turned to Duke. “Has he said anything?”

          “Are you asking as Lady Jaye or as a representative of the NSA?” Duke asked darkly.

          “I am asking as a friend,” she said quietly but with an unhidden sharpness behind the words. “We all play for the same team Duke.”

          “Why don’t you ask Dusty about that?” Duke shot back.

          “I had nothing to do with that and I’ve testified repeatedly on his behalf,” she responded but now the sharpness was gone and she looked away with a fierce blush.

          “Yet he still sits in Leavenworth and we haven’t heard a word from him in over a year,” Duke said flatly.

          “And I am as upset about that as you are Conrad!” Alison shot back using his civilian name. “But let’s call it like it is, Dusty was warned to stay away from those people and he went anyway.”

          “Those PEOPLE are his wife’s family,” Duke snapped.

          “Duke, Lady Jaye,” Doc said cautiously, “we have other matters at hand right now.”

          “No, he hasn’t said anything. Apparently, he’s been in a coma for two months,” Duke said returning his attention to Steeler. “Once the NYPD finally got around to running his prints it set off every alarm there is. We had him transferred here within sixteen hours.”

          “I caught the information while he was in transit and took the first available flight from Maryland,” Lady Jaye chimed in. “With the situation over Cobra Island I find it hard to believe Steeler coming home is a coincidence.”

          “General Hawk and Admiral Ledger feel the same way,” Duke confirmed. “Doc you said there is brain activity, is there any way we can wake him?”

          “Maybe,” Doc said thoughtfully, “I’ve been experimenting with some of Cobra’s mind control equipment in conjunction with my work with the PAB.”

          The PAB or Paranormal Activities Bureau was a top-secret government program tangentially related to the G.I. Joe organization. The PAB handled all of the incidents the general public were better off not knowing about.

          “Do what you need to do Doc,” Duke affirmed looking down at his lost soldier. “I have a bad feeling we needed to know what’s in his head two months ago.”

Chapter Five

The Navy Yard

Norfolk Virginia

          Admiral Warren Ledger crossed the parking lot from the command building to his private vehicle. The sky was bright and the breeze from the Chesapeake Bay was cool. I’d be a great day to be alive if not for his reasons for being there.

          “I understand that Mr. Secretary,” he said into the Smartphone plastered to his ear. “The team was inserted this morning and we won’t be expecting a report for forty-eight hours.”

          Stopping at his vehicle Admiral Ledger fished in his pocket for his keys. Irritation was bubbling within him. The Secretary could have asked these questions during the conference call but no, the man had to have a private conversation when nobody else could hear them.

          “Yes sir I understand how concerned the President is,” he continued slotting the key into the lock. “Well maybe if she hadn’t expelled the Cobra Ambassadors last year we’d be able to ask them what the hell is going on.”

          The man on the other end of the phone exploded in anger. Ledger grinned. He could imagine the fat man’s jowls waggling as he screamed obscenities. He allowed the man, who was after all technically his boss, to rant for a full thirty seconds before cutting him off.

          “Sir, I’ve been the Navy since I was seventeen years old you can yell all you want, it won’t make this situation a damn bit different,” Ledger snapped. He’s had just about enough of the fat man’s mealy-mouthed whining and bully attitude to last a lifetime.

          He opened the car door and set his brief case inside… he never heard the shot. His body fell to the ground blood quickly pooling around his head. On the phone, which was now pinned under his body, the Secretary of Defense continued to yell.

The National Mall

Washington DC

          That meeting had been a waste of time and then I had to wait until I was out of the office for a private briefing. Sometimes it feels like we’re not all on the same side anymore.

          “Are you sure Hawk?” General Flagg asked turning his thoughts back to the topic at hand and not the pointlessness of politics.

          “Yes Sir, it’s been confirmed. That really is Steeler. His dental and DNA records are a perfect match. Add to that the tattoo on his left arm and the partial finger prints he still has and there is no doubt in mine or Duke’s mind.”  Major General Hawk, commander of the G.I. Joe organization looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.

          Damn, but he still looks better than me, Flagg thought painfully aware of how tight his uniform was. And I just had it refitted two months ago, Martha’s right I am a heart attack waiting to happen. 

          In the last ten years the man on the other end of his video connection had aged much more gracefully than Flagg. Lawrence Flagg, former commander of G.I. Joe was showing his years. But despite that his mind was sharp as ever.

          “Ledger said the team was inserted under darkness, any word from the Javelin?”

          “No sir,” Hawk sighed. “They are maintaining communications silence. Whatever is on the island took out four of our best stealth aircraft and the most advanced satellite in our arsenal. It was decided not to take chances.”

          “Well they are the best at what they do,” Flagg grunted.

          “Yes sir,” Hawk agreed.

          “What about the wreckage the NYPD recovered when they found Steeler, have we managed to get a hold of it?” Flagg was still steaming that the man had been back for so long and nobody had realized it.

          What the hell are we paying the kids in Nevada for if they can’t even detect something like this?

          “It’s in transit to Headquarters,” Hawk answered. “They were going to scrap it and it’s been sitting in an impound lot in Queens for the last two months,” Hawk growled. He was clearly less than pleased with the way the police department had handled it. Then he added, “Larry, I have a really bad feeling about this.”

          Those words firmed the decision in General Flagg’s mind.

          “I am authorizing a full call up,” he said. “Everyone on the active and reserve boards, I want them called up and assembled. At best this will just cost us some money and time, but at worst we might be looking at war.”

          “Yes sir,” Hawk said coming to attention on his side of the connection.

          Flagg nodded and then he closed the feed. Satisfied now that he’d made the hard call and knowing it was the right one he smiled. Then he picked up his briefcase from the ground to slip his tablet back inside.

          He never heard the shot.

G.I. Joe Headquarters

West Virginia

          A skeleton crew manned the base. With most of the active Joe’s out working with special operations units across the globe only a maintenance crew was left to keep the massive complex up and running.

          “Did you hear the news?” Dial Tone asked.

          Ripcord was watching the monitors and doing his homework when his friend and partner entered the room carrying two mugs of coffee. Dial Tone was the ranking Joe at Headquarters and Ripcord was second in command. He’d been taking the opportunity to work on his master’s thesis and wasn’t really paying attention.

          “Hello, earth to Ripcord, you okay buddy?” Dial Tone asked setting the mug down next to him.

          “Yeah,” Ripcord muttered closing his laptop and pinching the bridge of his nose. On the screen the ever present static filled image of Cobra Island loomed in front of them. “Just trying to get caught up on this before we’re deployed.”

          “That’s what I’m talking about,” Dial Tone announced dropping into the seat next to Ripcord and taking a sip of the hot brew. “Scuttlebutt is that we are looking at a full call up.”

          “You’re kidding,” Ripcord goggled at him. The last time there’d been a full call up was after that Dragon Fire mess. “Where did you hear this?”

          “Hawk’s in on a conference call with the Joint Chiefs and the Secretary of Defense,” Dial Tone said knowingly. “Combine that with Beachhead and the guys doing the ‘slip in and have a look’ thing and I think it’s safe to say the balloon is about to go up.”

          “Maybe,” Ripcord intoned nodding slightly.

          They were so engrossed in the topic it took a few seconds for the changes on the screen to register with them. Dial Tone was the first to realize the change.

          “What the hell is that?” he whispered dropping his coffee mug to the ground and ignoring it completely as it shattered. Scalding brown liquid splashed his pants and he didn’t even feel it.

          The image on the screen was being transmitted by a high orbit satellite. This one was a passive and sent no signal to notify Cobra it was there. So far they’d not detected it. Since the destruction of the hunter sat they’d been limited to standard optics, which was immediately scrambled by whatever jamming field was being generated on the island.

          Now the image was crystal clear.

          A section of Cobra Island was now clear of the tropical foliage that usually covered it and had been replaced by a massive building. It looked like one of Cobra’s prefabricated bases, the Terror Dromes, but this was bigger and nastier looking.

          “How in the name of all that is right in this world did they build that thing so quickly?” Dial Tone hissed. He was manipulating the system to tighten and enhance the resolution of the images.

          “I don’t know but this cannot be a good thing,” Ripcord said reaching for the dedicated phone line to the Pentagon. “We need to kick this up the chain, fast.”

          Before he could hit talk alarms shattered the air.

          “What the hell is that?” Dial Tone asked nobody in particular and he clicked icons and brought up the main display. They all knew it was the air raid warning but that’d only been used in drills and as the men in charge they would have been the ones to order a drill.

          “We need to get to the shelter,” Ripcord said bolting from his seat and grabbing Dial Tone by the collar.

          Dial Tone watched the shrinking monitor screen showing more than a dozen missiles incoming. From outside the sounds of the anti-aircraft guns and rockets firing could be heard. Ripcord dragged him into the emergency lift and as the doors closed he could see that some of the incoming warheads would make it through.

Chapter Six

Strike Team Javelin

Cobra Island

          “Still can’t make contact with The Javelin,” Wetsuit muttered as he manipulated the radio components encased in the remote control sized slick black box.

          “We need to find the source of the jamming,” Deep Six moaned from the far corner of the cave. Despite the antibiotic ointment he’d applied the wound on his thigh was looking decidedly rancid.

          “That’s a great idea except every time we make a run at that new fortress we get swarmed with BAT’s” Beachhead growled. “And when the hell did those tin cans become so damn tough?”

          Torpedo said nothing. Instead he sat motionless at the mouth of the cave keeping watch on the valley below. He never moved, hardly breathed, and seldom blinked. They were in a bad spot.

          They’d hit the beach an hour after entering the water and at first everything had gone as planned. They’d slipped past the initial ring of sentries and made quick time into the heart of Cobra Island. Using the small amount of data the Hunter satellite had been able to glean before being destroyed, they’d had a general idea where the jamming equipment was.

          When they reached the area, instead of finding some sort of communication complex, they’d found the most massive Terror Drome any of them had ever seen. But before they’d been able to do more than scan the area the BAT’s attacked them and driven them up into the high hills.

          The Cobra BAT’s, or Battle Android Troopers, were the grunt backbone of the Cobra Military. But these BAT’s has been unlike any the Joe’s had faced in the past. These robots had been faster, stronger, and smarter than the old models. It’d taken every bit of experience and cunning the Joe’s possessed to escape and evade the relentless machines.

          “Did you notice the markings?” Deep Six groaned.

          “What do you mean?” Beachhead asked. The mission commander sounded glad to have something relevant to talk about.

          “The insignia’s on the Terror Drome and the BAT’s.” Deep Six coughed, the rattle in his chest was worrying to the other three men. “It was different from the standard Cobra markings, they looked more… evil.”

          “I don’t know about that,” Wetsuit muttered. The radio was now more components than a whole unit. “I mean the snakes are always changing uniforms and monkeying with their gear.”

          “Maybe,” Deep Six muttered.

          “Hey take it easy, you need to rest Six,” Beachhead interjected. He pulled a packet of powdered painkillers out of his pack and mixed it with a careful measure of their limited supply of drinkable water. “Drink this Six, it’ll make you feel better.”

          “Thank man,” Deep Six wheezed before choking down the cloudy liquid.

          Before Beachhead could respond the cave was filled with the sounds of the radio coming to life. The abrasive tones of Shipwreck, the team’s handler who’d remained on the Javelin, echoed off the damp volcanic rock of the cave.

          “This is the Big Frog to Tadpole, come in… Over.”

          “What did you do?” Beachhead asked Wetsuit as he hustled over to the makeshift work area. “How did you fix it?”

          “I didn’t do anything, I was ready to take a hammer to the damn thing,” Wetsuit replied looking and sounded completely shocked. “They must have brought down the jamming field. But why would they do that?”

          “I don’t know,” Beachhead muttered picking up the small mic. “But it can’t be anything good.”

          “This is Big Frog to Tadpole, come in… Over.”

          Beachhead keyed the mic and spoke, “Big Frog this is Tadpole One we hear you… over.”

          “Oh thank god,” Shipwreck responded, “What is your status… over?”

          “Things are bad, Tadpole Three is wounded and out of action,” Beachhead replied organizing his thoughts faster than he could get them out. “I’m not sure why but the jamming field appears to be down but we had nothing to do with it,” he paused and then dropped all formality, “Shipwreck things are really messed up here. This is bad, really bad… Over.”

          “Beachhead I’m linking you through to Hawk, things are worse than you know,” Shipwreck said sounding somewhere near the breaking point. Before pitching him higher up the ladder he gave Beachhead a rundown of what’d been happening since they’d gone radio silent.

          “Flagg, Ledger, Dial Tone, and Airborne are all dead?” Beachhead asked his voice having gone cold and stilted.

          “The General and the Admiral for sure, we are still digging through the wreckage of headquarters but it’s not looking good.”

          “Where has Hawk established the new HQ?” Beachhead asked. He didn’t want to think about all of the Greenshirts and support personnel who’d died when Headquarters was destroyed.

          “The FLAGG, it’s in the Mid Atlantic and he’s moved everything there.”

Chapter Seven

USS Flagg

Mid Atlantic

          “We were getting a little worried about you son,” Hawk said.

          “I have to be honest with you sir, you probably still should be,” Beachhead sighed. “We’re trapped on this mountain and Deep Six isn’t looking too good.”

          Hawk pinched the bridge of his nose and grimaced. It’d been a traumatic twenty-four hours and he could only see it getting worse before it got better. He was the last of the upper echelon of Joe command left alive. Outside the weather was getting rough and it was looking like they were in for a major blow, maybe even a surprise out of season hurricane.

          “We are working to get together an extraction team,” he continued ignoring the activity on the deck as the crew raced to secure everything not already bolted down, and something’s that already were. “I wish I could tell you it was going happen in the twelve hours but I think you may have to hold that position for a couple more days.”

          “I understand Hawk,” Beachhead said never losing his professional demeanor. “We’ll hold until someone comes for us or we run out of rocks to throw at the snakes.”

          Despite his words, Hawk could hear the worry in the tough man’s voice. “Stay strong Joe, we haven’t forgotten you, Hawk out.”

          “Sounds like they are in a tight spot Hawk,” Main Frame said from the other end of the table. The two men were alone in the briefing room Hawk having dismissed the other Joes and FLAGG officers before receiving the call.

          “Any idea what happened to the jamming field?” Hawk asked steepleing his fingers and staring at the Joe’s computer genius, he was so used to Main Frame working miracles that his inability to crack this riddle had him worried.

          “Zaranna has a few ideas. She says it sounds like some of the theoretical gear Cobra had on the drawing board before she left,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s still in the lab running simulations and crunching numbers.”

          His wife had chosen love, over family three years earlier and defected to the Joe’s brining a ton of intelligence with her, but that hadn’t been what convinced the Joes to trust her. For more than a year she’d lived under house arrest monitored twenty-four hours a day seven days a week submitting to every form of interrogation they could devise, she’d passed them all and was eventually welcomed to the team.  

          “How close does she think she is to finding out?”

          Main Frame hesitated.

          “Spill it son, it’s not like I’m going to blame the two of you for any of this,” Hawk muttered. He was tired and overwhelmed, the last thing he wanted to do was batter his men and women with his frustrations. “Better I hear the bad truth than a pleasant lie.”

          “Zee says there is no way Cobra tech has advanced this fast, something is missing and it’s driving her crazy,” Main Frame finally said.

          “I have to agree with her,” Hawk admitted. “That missile assault on headquarters should been an abject failure. We have the best detection and defensive system in the world but we never saw them coming until it was too late. We lost a lot of good people and more equipment than I can count.”

          “I think it was a test,” Main Frame chimed in.

          “You think what was a test?”

          “Putting the jamming field up then taking it down, it was a test,” he said warming to the idea. “I have no proof but I think they used the test of the jamming field to also conceal the construction of that new Terror Drome.”

          “Regardless of whether you’re right or not both of those things are worrisome,” Hawk said nodding and rising from the table. “We have every Joe assembling in Dayton. We had to divert the ones already on their way to Headquarters.”

          “Why not just bring everyone here?” Main Frame asked.

          “In a city they’ll be harder to locate. I have a feeling the Flagg might not be as safe as it used to be.” Outside the sounds of the wind were increasing exponentially and the vessel rocked back and forth as the waves crashed against the hull.

          “We’re missing something,” Hawk muttered between cracks of thunder.

Chapter Eight

Top Secret Medical Facility

          “When did he wake?” Duke said hustling through the doors of the hospital. He flashed his ID at the guard behind the desk and rushed toward Doc who was holding the elevator door open.

          “Less than an hour ago,” Doc answered swiping his security card and activating the elevator. “It only took one treatment with the memory serum for his to start reacting. I might have had him awake last night but I didn’t want to overdo it and fry his brain.”

          “You did the right thing Doc,” Duke replied reassuringly.

          “Alison is already here but she’s waiting for you before asking Steeler to talk,” Doc assured Duke.

          The elevator opened and the woman in question was waiting for them. Standing next to her was her husband, the still active and third in command Joe, Flint.

          “Duke,” Flint said stepping forward and offering a hand, “thanks for the heads up.”

          “No problem,” Duke said taking his friend’s hand and shaking firmly, then he turned his attention to the other person in the hallway. “Thank you for waiting for me to get here Alison.”         

          “I’m here as a friend and as a Joe, not as an NSA agent,” she said giving him a small but defiant smile.

          “I’m sorry about before,” Duke finally said sounding a little ashamed. “When I’m wrong I admit it and I was wrong to take my frustration and anger about Dusty out on you.”

          Alison gave him a nod.

          “Well now that you’ve settled that, shall we go check on Steeler?” Doc asked gesturing toward the closed door.

Chapter Nine

Steeler’s Room

          “Duke, is that you?” the tight leathery voice called out from the darkened room.

          “He’s extremely light sensitive,” Doc said to explain the lowered lighting. “His hearing has also been severely degraded.”

          “Welcome home soldier,” Duke said taking a place next to the hospital bed and kneeling down. “We’ve missed you son.”

          “How long?” Steeler asked. His voice was so dry everyone in the room looked ready to rush and retrieve a cup of water for him. In the end it was Doc who brought not a cup of water but a pouch of fruit juice laced with extra nutrients.

          Steeler latched onto it and drained it dry.

          “How long have I been back?” he asked sounding more like his old self.

          “Two months,” Alison said.

          “Lady Jaye?” he asked straining his eyes.

          “Yeah Steeler, Flint and Doc are here too,” she answered stepping forward and taking one of his hands in her own.

          “Oh god, two months,” he moaned then he began to openly weep. “I’m too late.”

          “Too late for what?” Flint asked, “What happened? When we left the other world the Cobra Empire was on the brink of civil war and it looked like there might be a chance to rebuild G.I. Joe and save the world.”

          “We lost,” Steeler said quietly.

          “What about Clutch and Grunt?” Alison asked quietly.

          “They’re still alive or at least they were when I left,” Steeler said. “Can someone help me sit up? I have a lot to tell you and I don’t want to do it flat on my back.”

          Duke used the controls on the side of the bed and raised the weakened man to a sitting position. Then he shifted the pillows to make him more comfortable.

          “Thanks Duke,” Steeler coughed. “After the rest of you left the war between Destro’s forces and Cobra Commander’s forces erupted, it was bad. Anastasia played both sides off one another from her Capital in Europe,” He said grinning at some private memory.

          “Who?” Duke asked looking to Flint and Alison.

          “He means the Baroness,” Alison supplied. “Over there she’s one of us. If it wasn’t for her there wouldn’t be a resistance.”

          “She‘s dead,” Steeler mumbled in an emotionless, almost dead, voice.

          “Oh god,” Alison moaned, “What happened?”

          “The war raged for years with no conclusion. Then Dr. Mindbender attempted to seize the throne via a genetically created super leader.”

          “Serpentor!” Duke hissed.

          “Yeah”, Steeler said looking and sounding surprised, “you know him?”

          “We have our version of the man,” Flint said motioning for Steeler to continue.

          “I don’t know what your Serpentor is like but the Emperor on my Earth is the scariest person I’ve ever seen.” He shivered noticeably before pressing forward, “Through Mindbender he had access to the most advanced tech on the planet and since Mindbender had been neutral during most of the war he got the drop on the factions. When it was over half the world was burned and the leadership of the world swore fealty to Serpentor.”

          “What about the Commander and Destro? I can’t believe they bowed down to Serpentor and Mindbender,” Alison asked.

          “The Commander was given North America, Destro was given South America, The Baroness was allowed to keep continental Europe, Zartan was the first to side with Serpentor and was given New Zealand and Australia, and the rest of the world was divvied out to Serpentor loyalists and allies.” Steeler coughed and doubled over in pain.

          “Hold on buddy,” Doc said drawing a cup of water and sprinkling powdered painkiller in it. “Drink this.”

          Nodding with thanks Steeler took the cup and downed it in three hard gulps. “Still really dry,” he muttered settling back onto the bed. “Serpentor took the British Isles as his capital and spent the next couple of years rebuilding. For awhile, with the Commander and Destro scheming against him, it was easy for G.I. Joe to rebuild and operate.” He closed his eyes for a minute and groaned as the painkillers began to work.

          “Maybe we should let him rest,” Doc said moving towards the door.

          “NO!” Steeler suddenly yelled opening his eyes and regaining his focus. “I need to tell this, too many people have died and too much time has been lost already. We thought we had a chance last year, the Empire was being gathered in the capital to celebrate the birth of the Imperial heir and all the leadership would be there. With the help of the Oktober Guard we smuggled a strike team into London.”

          “The Oktober Guard helped?” Duke asked, curious despite the need to hear the rest of the story.

          “Russia managed to remain more or less intact after the Empire dissolved the USSR. The Guard was dissolved officially but unofficially they acted as an arm of the underground Russian government. They’re the good guys on our world,” Steeler said, smiling at the looks on his former teammate’s faces. “We were in place and ready to strike when the Commander moved first. Apparently he and Destro had buried the hatchet and turned the tables on Serpentor, the entire Imperial family was wiped out.”

          “Wasn’t that a good thing?” Alison asked, “Serpentor was taken out and you didn’t have to put yourselves in danger.”

          “We were ecstatic at first,” Steeler agreed. “Then the reprisals began. Serpentor was terrifying but he was logical, he only used terror when he had to. If he could get better results from the velvet glove he’d use that. Under him a measure of local autonomy and freedom had emerged.”

          “The Commander and Destro ended that.”

          “The next year was filled with death, slavery, and oppression. When they were finished the world was a police state. She knew she was in trouble when the order came but she had no choice and a year ago Anastasia was summoned to a conference in New York. When she arrived the Commander had her executed.” Silent tears streamed down his scared face.

          “I’m so sorry Steeler,” Alison said squeezing his hand.

          “She was a hell of a Joe,” Flint added his voice sounding decidedly choked and thick. “One of the bravest people I’ve ever met.”

          “Yes she was,” Steeler agreed nodding and grinning. “She was also the best wife a guy could ask for.”

          All eyes turned to him.

          “Seven years of wedded bliss,” he murmured. “After she died the Professor took over command of G.I Joe and the rest of the resistance. We managed to hold our ground and score some serious victories in the last year. Despite Anastasia’s death I was hopeful.”

          “Who’s the Professor?” Duke asked.

          “Smartest guy we got,” Steeler muttered dismissively. “But that’s all back story, this is the important part. I guess four months ago we learned that the Empire was looking to conquer something new. They owned the entire globe but in order to thrive they needed to grow… that’s when we realized Mindbender had survived the purges, sort of.”

          “What do you mean sort of?” Alison inquired quietly, she didn’t want to interrupt the narrative but this was an interesting part and she needed details.

          “He’s a head in a box,” Steeler stated bluntly.

          “What do you mean?”

          “Literally his head and spinal cord have been wired into a life support system. He’s the Commanders personal pet genius.” Steeler sighed. “At some point after the dust settled someone must have reminded the head snake that years before Joes who were already dead showed up and told a story about a world where Cobra didn’t rule the world.”

          “Mindbender found a way to bridge the dimensions,” Duke said jumping to the end.

          “Hole in one Duke.” Steeler coughed. “We found out and got our hands on a copy of the plans for the device. The Professor managed to cobble a crude version together and I caught the only ride over. I was supposed to be here before the Empire… but the transition was a lot rougher than we anticipated.”

          “This explains a lot,” Alison said releasing Steeler’s hand and pulling out her smart phone. “I need to report this to the director and you need to let Hawk know.”

          “Yeah,” Duke said, “I just hope we aren’t too late.”

          “Somebody want to tell me what’s going on?” Steeler asked looking from one person to the next. “I’ve kinda been out of the loop for a decade or so.”

          “Steeler old buddy.” Flint sighed. “Things are worse than you know.”

Chapter Ten

The Cobra Space Station

Geosynchronous Orbit Over Cobra Island

          “Sire we are ready,” the crimson clad officer said. He was adhered to the metal deck of the station via a pair of magnetic boots. Like everyone else on the station he was the best of the best.

          “Excellent,” Cobra Commander hissed his face ten times the normal size on the stations main screen. “Prepare to initiate.”

          All around the compact command center of the station officers and technicians stood poised for the word. They’d been working towards this for months, none of them knew when or how the commander had come up with the new strategy but they were all eager to put it in motion. The excitement was so thick it threatened to combust.

          “NOW!” the commander declared slamming his gloved fist onto an unseen surface.

          Quietly and efficiently switches were flipped and process began. The station started humming and vibrating as dozens of capacitors were charged from the micro fusion reactor at the heart of the station.

          The first indication that the game had been changed was when Houston lost contact with the International Space Station and the Moon Base. One second the command center in Texas was receiving a steady stream of telemetry from them and the next they were silent. This was quickly followed by the loss of all orbital uplinks planet wide. Communications beyond the local level were effectively severed. Unless it was an old-fashioned radio or television signal the modern wireless communications network had been effectively severed.

          The Earth was plunged into chaos.

          With each second the virus spread and one satellite after another fell under the crippling control of the Cobra computer network. Once the network was down the secondary systems came online. For months the Cobra station, under the protection of the jamming field, had been releasing basketball sized stealth satellites into orbit. With the worldwide communications network down none of the major Earth powers were able to detect the pulse generated by the stealth satellites.

          Several minutes passed and the station relayed information to the command center on Cobra Island from the various outposts around the globe. As the pulse propagated on the quantum level the outposts, six in all, and the command center listened for the response.

Command Center

Cobra Island

          “Well,” Cobra Commander hissed, “Have we received confirmation?”

          “It’s going to take a few minutes for our people on the other side to lock the coordinates in and pulse back Father,” Billy said warmly. “Patience is a virtue. I do believe that is something you always told me.”

          The Commander visibly, despite the hood he wore, settled down. He knew in the logical side of his mind that this Billy was not the child he’d created and raised only to be betrayed by him. But this Billy was the son he’d always deserved, not only did he see the world in the same way as his father but he was also his own man with his own opinions.

          “Of course son.” The Commander agreed with a nod. “This is the moment everything changes. I’m just excited to meet my brother face to face.”

          “As am I,” Billy replied placing a strong warm hand on his other father’s shoulder. “When this world is brought under the rule of the Empire and all of Cobra is united… then the real work can begin.”

Iron Grenadier Compound

Classified Location in Scotland

          “Lord Destro,” the communications officer said coming to a crisp Roman style salute.

          “Speak,” Destro replied from behind the massive 14th century desk, “and don’t hold anything back I need all the information no matter bad it is.”

          “Sir, it appears the information we received from our sources on the island were accurate.” the young woman hesitated before continuing. She wasn’t afraid of the reaction she might receive from Destro. All the Grenadiers knew he was fair, if hard leader and he never punished the bearer of bad news… but this was really bad news.

          “Continue Grenadier Krauter, the more we know now the better we can prepare our counterstrike.”

          “Yes, Lord Destro,” she responded feeling a little more sure of herself. “Our countermeasures, the ones we were able to get in place at any rate, were effective and our networks are still secure. We still have access to the communications network.”

          “Excellent,” Destro said rising from his massive chair and turning to look out the floor to ceiling window behind him. “I’d hoped this was simply misinformation. Send the word to our forces and then get me a secured connection with Prague.”

          Grenadier Krauter gasped.

          “Yes Grenadier, I know she tried to kill me but the Baroness is a rational woman, she’ll understand that if we don’t stand together we’ll fall alone.”

          Outside the skies quickly darkened and lighting split the sky.

          “And it looks like that fool is now playing with toys that don’t belong to him,” Destro growled from behind the polished steel of his mask.

Dreadnock Lair

Sydney Australia

          “Son of a bitch!” one of the thugs yelled from the game room of Dreadnock Lair. “Zartan the internet is out! How am I supposed to smack down the little twelve year old punks with no internet connection?”

          “What is that ape yelling about?” Zandar asked. Zartan’s brother was partially concealed in the shadows of his sibling and leader’s office. The genetic camouflage mutation inherent to their family adjusted automatically in order to obscuring the massive amount of scaring on his once handsome face.

          Zartan wasn’t paying attention, instead he focused on the information coming through on his smart phone. When one of Destro’s flunkies had delivered the modified device to Zartan he’d nearly destroyed it fearing he was being set up by the Commander. The Dreadnocks had managed to maintain a middle ground in the dispute between the Commander and Destro after Serpentor disappeared. But that voice in the back of his head, the one that sounded so much like their father, told him to keep it.

          He was glad he’d listened.

          “Zandar,” Zartan whispered looking at his brother and his skin shimmering a light green color. “Gather everyone, I think we might be in a lot of trouble.”

          Zandar stepped from the darkness of the shadows to reveal his mutilated visage. There was a dark somewhat eager grin on the man’s dark cracked skin.

          “Is it time to play brother?” Zandar asked the light of madness dancing in his one good eye.

          “I believe brother when this is finished we will all get to have some fun,” Zartan replied not taking his eyes off of Zandar. Once again he stopped to wonder if it would have been kinder to allow his brother to die in the ocean that dark day.

          Laughing Zandar left the room to gather the Dreadnocks. It was time to ride.

Chapter Eleven

USS Flagg, the Mid Atlantic

The Bridge

          “Has there been any further communication from the Javelin or the strike force?” Hawk asked as he entered the bridge. Several sailors looked as if they were going to salute but stopped at the slight shake of negation from the General. Protocol or not the look on his face was enough to keep them quiet.

          “No, Hawk,” Cutter said from the command chair. The newly promoted Captain of the Flagg looked as if he’d been awake for a week.

          “Damn,” the General muttered. He then walked to the coffee urn and poured a cup of luke warm, very old coffee.

          “Do we have an uplink yet?” he asked after downing half of the bitter brew in one swallow.

          “We’ve been able to establish the network intermittently using line of sight and bouncing signals off of drones. Main Frame and Zaranna think they’ve figured out part of the jamming cycle and are writing a program to regain some access,” Cutter said rising and getting his own coffee.

          The two men, the commanding General and the Captain of the ship, stood quietly in the back of the bridge watching the quiet activity of the crew.

          “You’ve done a fine job taking over,” Hawk finally said.

          “The Admirals death hit us all hard, it’s been rough taking his place,” Cutter answered looking into his cup. “This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better isn’t it Hawk?”

          There was a beeping sound from Hawk’s belt.

          “I think so Cutter,” Hawk muttered putting his mug down and pulling his tablet from its holster in his belt. He scanned the message and then swore softly under his breath. “Cutter you need to rouse your people, we have orders.”

Mainframe and Zaranna’s Workshop

          “I don’t understand how they managed to do this!” Zaranna seethed throwing her coffee mug across the small room. It smashed against the bulkhead and cold coffee splattered everywhere.

          The two of them had been working without sleep since the destruction of Headquarters and the murders of General Flagg and Admiral Ledger. The only lead they had to go with the information Steeler brought back was the jamming field around Cobra Island. When the world’s satellite telecommunications network went down all efforts were retasked to cracking the encryption Cobra had installed.

          It was not going well.

          “Every time I manage to regain a measure of network linkage something slams the door on me,” she said letting her shoulders and head slump in resignation.

          Mainframe said nothing. Instead he rose from his workstation, walked up behind his wife, slipped his arms around her, and hugged her tight. They’d been together long enough and knew each other so well that sometimes words weren’t needed. He held her and the tears of anger and frustration flowed. Zaranna was the strongest person he’d ever known and if she was being reduced to tears then he was scared.

          “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered when he felt her sobs subside.

          “Can you promise me that Blaine?” she asked tilting her head back to look up at his strong confident face.

          “I promise that as long as we’re together there’s nothing we can’t do,” he replied leaning down and kissing her long and deep.

          Zaranna reached up and wrapped her hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer. For a few heartbeats all fear of the unknown and worry for their friends was banished as they lost themselves in one another.

          “Ahem,” a quiet voice said from behind them.

          Mainframe and Zaranna broke their embrace and turned as one to see Scarlett watching them with a sad smile on her perpetually pale and ageless face. She’d been holed up on the crew deck with the small team of Joe’s on the Flagg since normal communications with the mainland were severed.

          “Sorry to interrupt guys,” she said sounding very much like she meant it. Her worry was clear to the husband and wife. It was well known among the Joes that when Shanna O’Hara, also known around the world as Scarlett slipped into her native Georgia accent things were bad. “Hawk wants everyone up on the command deck, we have orders.”

          She left the room without another word.

          Mainframe and Zaranna followed quickly behind.

Ruins of G.I. Joe Headquarters

West Virginia

          “Any word yet from Washington or from Hawk?” Roadblock called out to Breaker.

          The massive African American man was deep at the bottom of the trench they’d been digging into the shattered heart of the base. He and Breaker were in charge of the rescue team of Greenshirts and first responders from the local area. They’d found dozens of bodies from the maintenance crew since they’d begun digging but had yet to find any survivors. They had yet to reach the shelters in the subbasement so there was still hope.

          “I just received a burst transmission via relay,” Breaker responded from the top of the trench. “Sparks has managed to throw together an ad hic communications net using ground stations, weather balloons, and high altitude aircraft.”

          “Bout time we caught a break my brother!” Roadblock cheered tiredly.

          “It’s bad out there,” Breaker said without preamble.

          “How bad?” Roadblock asked hesitantly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

          “This is happening worldwide, word from command is that riots and looting have broken out in the major cities around the globe.” He choked, “A lot of people are dead.”

          Before Roadblock could respond there was a wild commotion from deeper in the trench. Breaker jumped down to join him and the two Joes, friends and battle buddies for more than a decade, rushed side by side into the darkness hoping against hope that survivors had been found.

          High in the sky above them, unseen by the Joes in the trench, unnaturally thick and dark storm clouds formed. Thunder and lightning crashed ominously.

Javelin Strike Team

Cobra Island

          A fresh burst of submachine gun fire ripped through the jungle air. Beachhead sprayed the foliage behind them as Wetsuit and Torpedo half carried half dragged Deepsix across the floor of the valley.

          “You meatheads need to pick up the pace!” Beachhead yelled between bursts of fire. When he was sure their pursuers were either dead or keeping their heads down for the moment he hurried forward to help move Deepsix faster.

          “You… guys… have… to… leave… me,” Deepsix gasped in agony. Sweat rolled down his face and neck and the smell from the infection in his wound was pungent in the night air. There was a yellow sallow quality to his skin.

          “Stow that talk!” Beachhead growled passing his weapon to Wetsuit and throwing Deepsix’s arm over his shoulder.

          “I think you got the last one,” Wetsuit muttered.

          An hour earlier a squad of BAT’s had stumbled onto their cave hideout and the team was forced to retreat under the superior firepower of these new model battle androids. The decision was made to head for the shoreline and attempt to get off the island and the consequences be damned.

          “Even when we make it to the beach,” Torpedo said optimistically, “we still need to find a boat. And for that matter why haven’t the BAT’s been backed up by real soldiers already?”

          “One problem at a time,” Wetsuit responded sweeping the muzzle of his weapon from side to side.

          As if on cue the foliage and brush thinned and Strike Team Javelin was standing on the volcanic sands of the beach. The moon hung fat and bright in the sky. It was an awe-inspiring sight but not one of the Joes noticed it. Instead their eyes were glued to the horrific tableau on the water.

          “Oh my god,” Torpedo whispered.

          Beachhead and Wetsuit said nothing. There really were no coherent words for what they were seeing. A massive arch of light spanned the water of the bay in front of them. Like a nightmare railroad tunnel it was disgorging black and grey naval vessels all sporting the bright red Cobra insignia. They were looking at the arch on an angle, it was a dizzying sight. It was as if a hole had been punched in reality and nightmares were being birthed from it.

Chapter 12

The Other Earth

Imperial Palace, Cobra Island

          “I was under the impression you could make anyone talk,” Cobra Commander hissed menacingly.

          Storm Shadow said nothing. The Japanese man stood as silent and unmoving as a rock.

          “I brought you here because you are the best Storm Shadow,” the Emperor continued lounging in his throne and sounding ready to kill.

          Still Storm Shadow said nothing.

          “You’ve had him for three days and nothing!”

          On the screen behind him the movement of the Imperial Fleet from this world to the other continued at a steady pace.

          “We have committed everything to the invasion,” the Emperor continued coldly. “The survival of our world hinges on our actions.” 

          Storm Shadow never moved a muscle.

          “I could have you killed Storm Shadow. I could have everyone in your home village executed and then have it burned to the ground.”

          “Do you think your guards could stop me before I reach you and snap your neck?” the man asked quietly, his lips barely moving.

          Cobra Commander, Emperor of the Earth, gulped audibly.

          “The man has been trained to resist my techniques,” he said now placing his hands behind his back and cocking his head to the side. “And that your highness is confusing because the only one who could have taught him those techniques would be me.”

          “What are you trying to say?” Cobra Commander demanded rising to his feet and closing the distance between them.

          “I am saying that he is not a member of the resistance,” Storm Shadow said without flinching. “I’m saying he’s not from our world.”

          Far below them, in a dark and wet holding cell, the Joe known as Dusty prayed for rescue or death.

Chapter 13

18 Months Ago

Groom Lake, Nevada, Area 51

          “You know you don’t have to do this Dusty, you can still back out. I still say you’re more important here training and planning than putting boots on the ground on the other side,” Alison said helping the man adjust the straps on his jumpsuit.  While he was dressed for the mission, Allison was sporting the standard issue NSA suit. “There are other people who are just as qualified as you who can do this.”

          “But are they more qualified than I am?” he asked, his soft southern accent and boyish grin causing her to smile. “I trained most of the people you’re referring to and I admit they’re good, but I’m better.”

          “Okay,” she admitted handing him the fireproof duffel bag and helmet. “But if something happens to you I won’t even be able to tell anyone the truth.”

          “The cover story is a good one, nobody will question it,” Dusty said making sure everything was secured on his harness and to his backpack before slinging the duffle over his shoulder. “But if you have to put it into action you’re going to take a lot of heat from the team.”

          “At least it’s believable,” Alison said not looking him in the eyes.

          “I was mad when Asilah, her family, and the kids were killed. Mad enough to do what you’ll tell everyone I did,” Dusty responded. Then he continued darkly, “I wanted to kill them all after the bombing. I wanted to hunt them down and make them pay… and now I can.”

          Alison said nothing. There was nothing she could have said in response to that. When Dusty’s wife, children, and in-laws were killed in a hotel bombing the year before, the man had nearly been destroyed. It’d taken months for him to emerge from the depression he’d sunk into. The revelation of who’d been behind the bombing had given him the motivation and drive to plan and execute this mission.

          Alison was afraid he was looking at this as a suicide mission.

          “Want to rundown the checklist one more time?” Dusty asked.

          “Sure,” she said, putting a false smile on her beautiful face, “One more time for luck?”

          “First, I ride the transition carriage through the quantum foam. Who comes up with these names?” Dusty asked.

          “I think Sparks had a lot to do with it,” Alison answered.

          “Figures, anyway once I’m on the other side my number one job is to plant the beacons. Nothing else matters until that’s finished. Once the beacons are planted the secondary mission objectives are activated.”

          “And those are?” Alison prompted.

          “First, attempt to make contact with the resistance and determine the statuses of Steeler, Breaker, and Clutch.”

          Alison nodded.

          “Second, assess the situation within the Cobra Empire and gather as much intelligence as I can.”

          Several techs near the large box in the middle of the chamber motioned. Dusty and Alison started walking towards them. The box was roughly half the size of a standard shipping container and sat like a lone forgotten building block in the middle of the cavernous space of the transition chamber.

          “After that my primary mission is insurgency, do as much damage as possible,” Dusty finished as they reached the reinforced hatch of the carriage. He rapped his knuckles on the nano carbon fiber door. “Did I miss anything, boss?”

          “Yes,” Alison said turning Dustin’s body so he had to look at her. “Stay alive and come home.”

          “I make no promises,” Dusty said wistfully.

          There was a dark gleam in his eyes and Alison fought the urge to scrub the mission. If it hadn’t been for the seriousness of the situation and the strength of their friendship, she would have scrubbed the mission and orders be damned. But he was right, there was no one else more prepared and capable of doing the job that needed done.

          “Just promise me you’ll try,” she finally said.

          Dusty hesitated and several heartbeats passed before he answered. A sad smile cracked his face and for a second he was the happy, married, father of three again. “For you Alison, for you and the team, I promise to try.”

          Alison hugged him tight.

          “Sir,” one of the techs said quietly. “It’s time.”

          Reluctantly breaking the embrace Dusty turned to the young man and grinned. “Alright son, let’s get this show on the road.” Tapping a spot on his harness the smart fibers of his combat suit were powered up. The internal cooling system came online and the sweat connecting between the suit and his skin quickly dried up. Then without looking back he stepped into the carriage and didn’t turn around until the hatch sealed behind him.

          Outside the carriage, Alison and the techs retreated to the observation platform. In the last three years they’d managed to launch and retrieve several probes to and from the other world. This was the first time they’d be sending a person over. Despite the test results and computer models there was a lot of apprehension in the chamber.

          “We’re all set,” Sparks said from the control deck. This was his baby and Dusty was his friend—there was no way he was going to trust this anyone else. “Capacitors are charged, we have quantum entanglement.”

          Alison tensed for what came next.

          “We are a go for carriage deployment,” Sparks said reaching and flipping an innocuous switch. “Carriage deployed.”

          A low filling rattling hum filled the chamber followed by a glow from the body of the carriage. The glow quickly morphed into a blinding, strobing, multicolored assault on the senses. Alison thought there should be an ear shattering noise to accompany the cacophony of photons but only that same gut turning hum filled the air.

          “We are achieving transition,” Sparks whispered his eyes fixed on the light filtered view from the computer screen. “He’s going…”

          “He’s gone,” Alison finished for him as the hum and lights ceased. The area where the carriage had been was now empty. Under her breath she whispered, “Be safe and come home Dusty.”

Chapter 14

Cheyenne Mountain,

Colorado (NORAD)

          “God damn it! I want the connection to the Pentagon reestablished and I want it now!” Lieutenant General Amanda Manning, first female Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, bellowed.

          The command center was a hive of activity. The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind with very little sleep to be had. Manning had divided her people into two teams. The first, and smallest team, was coordinating with Area 51, the Johnston Atoll, and the USS FLAGG in an effort to restore communications. The second team had spent the time bringing 1950’s cold war era communication equipment out of mothballs. Once they’d finished the smell of burning ozone tinted the air and the team was covered on dust and cobwebs.

          They were back to vacuum tubes.

          “General,” one of the techs, a young sergeant, said from behind her.

          “What is it?” Manning growled.

          “We don’t have an East Coast link back up ma’am but there’s something you need to see,” he said handing her a tablet and stepping back. “These feeds are from one of the older birds in orbit. They don’t seem to be as badly effect by the virus and disruption field.”

          Amanda watched the video feed. The images were from over the Gulf of Mexico and centered on Cobra Island. At first General Manning thought there was some sort of ghost image on the screen. Just off the coast of the island was, for lack of a better description, a hole on the middle of the air. A half circle of light sat on the water and from it vessel after vessel emerged from seeming nothingness.

          “What the hell is that?” she whispered to herself.

          Using her finger she changed the video’s perspective and zoomed in on the individual craft. Due to the age of the satellite the images coming through the picture were blurry but she could make out enough details to cause the blood in her veins to run cold.

          There were hundreds of them.

          “I need all connections brought online,” she said handing the tablet back to the tech. “I don’t care how much more needs to be done. Get us networked and routed to the conference room in ten minutes.”

          The young man saluted and hurried off to relay the instructions.

NORAD Conference Room

          “Can everyone hear me clearly?” General Manning asked.

          Video conferencing was impossible and the idea of a virtual conference was laughable. They were back to audio conference calling via antiquated encrypted radio equipment.

          Thank God for military inertia and a system that never throws anything away, she thought silently. Kinda scary to think third world nations are probably handling this better than we are.

          “I hear you General,” Duke replied from his station at DULCE New Mexico.

          “You’re coming through but it’s choppy,” General Hawk answered from the USS FLAGG. The aircraft carrier was off the Atlantic seaboard of the United States and making all possible speed for the gulf.

          “I can here you,” Low Light answered. The Deputy Director of the Paranormal Activities Bureau (PAB) had kept his Joe codename after taking his current position.  

          “We’re having intermittent breakages in signal strength but I can hear all of you,” Sparks said from Area 51 in the Nevada desert.

          “All of you are crystal clear on our end,” Payload replied from Johnston Atoll. “We’re also in contact with a dozen substations around the globe and patching them in.”

          The substation commanders announced their presence.

          “Alright,” Manning finally said. “Not as many of you as I’d hoped but definitely more than I feared. Before I update you on the current situation, is everyone up to date on the information about the other Earth supplied by the team Area 51?” Once the various base and substation representatives responded in the affirmative Manning continued.

          “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are being invaded.”

          The antiquated speaker on the conference table exploded in shocked and confused chatter. The general tenor wasn’t shock that it was happening, they all had known it was inevitable after Steeler returned. But instead conflicting response ideas. General Manning allowed the conversation to continue for a few minutes then stepped back in.

          “The fleet entering our world is massive,” she said silently cursing that there was no way to share video and images with the other participants. “This is a full scale invasion and I hate to say it but we’ve been caught with our pants down.”

          “We need to react,” Duke said. The soldier was a skilled tactician but he saw all problems as a nail and he was the wielder of the hammer needed to pound them flat. “Hit them now before they’re spread out.”

          “Okay,” Manning said nodding to herself. “What do you recommend?”

          “Coordinate a strike on Cobra Island,” Duke continued. “Throw everything we have at them and pound them into submission.”

          “That’s not gonna be feasible,” Payload answered before Manning could respond. “We are cut off from almost all of our forces and most of our allies. The virus and distortion field have crippled all communications, it’s a damn miracle we’ve been able to pull this conference call off.”

          “Nuke them,” Low Light growled. “If I’m reading the situation right the USS Javelin is sitting off the coast of Cobra Island with twenty thermonuclear weapons in its tubes.”

          There was silence on the circuit.

          “Does anyone have a better idea?” Manning asked. With the rest of the Joint Chiefs either dead or cut off, she was top but she still wanted input. “We can’t establish contact with anyone higher up the chain of command so this falls on us.”

          “If we can’t get a weapons free authorization from the President the idea is moot,” Hawk chimed in. He was closer to the situation than anyone else but was still powerless.

          “Shipwreck is in command on the Javelin,” Low Light offered. “A direct appeal by a senior Joe might convince him this has to be done.”

          “If we do this there’s no undoing it,” Payload said. The man sounded pensive even through the radio connection.

          “If we don’t do this we could all be doomed,” Duke countered.

          General Manning sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose before she spoke. “General Hawk can you establish a connection with the Javelin?”

          “Yes ma’am,” Hawk answered woodenly.

          “Make contact and give the order,” Manning said ignoring the tone of her subordinate’s voice—Hawk was a soldier and he’d do what he was told. “I want Cobra Island and everything in a hundred mile radius vaporized.”

          “What about the team on the island?” Duke asked.

          “We don’t even know if they’re still alive Duke,” Manning responded. “If they are… well at least it’ll be over before they realize its happening.”

Chapter 15

Cobra Island

The Beach

          “This is really bad Beachhead,” Wetsuit muttered his eyes glued to the binoculars. “I’m losing count of the number for ships coming through that opening and I never had a grasp on the numbers of aircraft.”

          “None of this makes sense,” Beachhead growled. The team leader was getting more frustrated with every second that passed. “This is some crazy science fiction nonsense.”

          The men, four of the most skilled warriors on the planet, lay concealed but in impotent shock on the beach. They’d spent the last hour watching vessel after vessel slip through the impossible rip in space. Every one of them emblazoned with the red snake head embalm of Cobra.

          “So,” Torpedo muttered checking the clip in his submachine gun for the umpteenth time since their escape had stalled on the beach. “I assume this means the cavalry will not be coming anytime soon. Even if Shipwreck could slip past that armada they’d sink the Javelin as soon as it popped its head up.”

          “I think that sums it up Torpedo,” Beachhead answered.

          “You guys need to head back into the jungle,” Deepsix coughed, tiny flecks of dark blood colored his spittle. “Find some place to dig in and rest before making a decision.”

          “What do you mean ‘You guys’?” Wetsuit snapped lowering his binoculars and turning to glare at his best friend. “If you think we’re going to leave you here alone you’re crazy!”

          “Shut up Wetsuit,” Deepsix muttered. “We all know you can’t move me anymore. I’m burning up from an infection and something inside is ruptured and bleeding. I’m done brother… I’m spent.”

          Wetsuit opened his mouth to argue then closed it when he got a good look in his friend’s eyes. Deepsix was indeed spent—the man was pallid and sweaty, and there was desperation in his wide eyes.

          “We can dig in here and face it together,” Wetsuit finally said.

          “No,” Deepsix groaned then followed up with another harsh wet cough. “Stay with me and you go out in a blaze of glory. Head for the mountains and you live to fight another day. If you survive long enough you might be able to help when we counterattack and drive these Snakes into the depths of Hell where they came from.”

          The three Joe’s looked at one another exchanging a single thought—Deepsix was right.

The Javelin

          “Captain, we have a transmission coming through,” the radio operator said from her station on the bridge.   

          “Is it the team?” Shipwreck asked. He and three other officers were standing around the holographic display tank, which was currently showing the surface situation above them.

          “No, Skipper,” the tech replied, “it’s from the FLAGG.”

          All four heads at the tank snapped toward the radio station.

          “Put them on the speakers,” Shipwreck snapped. It’d been too long since they’d been in contact with the outside world.

          The speaker crackled to life.

          “Javelin, this is General Hawk on the FLAGG.”

          “Hawk,” Shipwreck replied relief in his old salty voice. “It’s really good to hear your voice, sir.”

          “You too son. What’s your current operational situation?”

          “We are a thousand feet under with all stealth systems engaged. There’s a gigantic fleet holding station above us and we’ve been out of contact with the team on Cobra Island for the last twelve hours, sir,” Shipwreck answered. Vocalizing the situation caused his gut to clench.

          “So just another day on the job for a Joe?” Hawk deadpanned.

          Shocked, Shipwreck laughed hard, “Yes sir just another typical day on the job.”

          “We’ve managed to set up a loose communications network using pre microchip systems,” Hawk continued becoming more serious. “Shipwreck, I need you to listen carefully because what I’m about to say… Well, it’s going to be a little unbelievable.”

          Shipwreck listened without interruption for fifteen minutes.

          “Helmsman, prepare to dive,” he ordered once the connection to the FLAGG was broken. “Make best possible speed for the ocean floor. Sound battle stations, weapons are hot ladies and gentleman.”

Cobra Island

The Beach

          Thought I’d have to threaten to shoot the idiot to get him to leave, Deepsix thought. Morons, thinking they were being noble offering to stay here with me. Best friends a guy could ask for, good luck brothers.

          His hand sought and found the small bump on his inner thigh and squeezed it. The micro bio communications system wet wired to his nervous system activated and an audio channel only he could hear opened.

          “This is Agent 71,” he whispered just loud enough for the microphones implanted in his throat to pickup. “Beacon is live and I’m requesting status on resolution.”

          “Agent 71, this control,” a cool professional feminine voice replied. “Resolution has been authorized. The situation is more complex than we realized and the decision was punted up the chain of command. You are ordered to hold position and do not break cover.” Her voice changed and became less professional. “Malcolm, are you okay? What’s the status of the mission?”

          “I’m hurt bad Allison,” he responded. “The waters around the island are thick with Imperial vessels. I’ve sent the rest of the team to the mountains to dig in.” His body was on fire but he was freezing as he talked. “I considered breaking cover and reading them in fully but it’s too likely we might be captured and interrogated.”

          “I understand the desire to tell them the whole truth, but you made the right call,” Allison answered. “We’re moving from the facility at Dulce to Area 51 within the hour and it looks like General Manning is firm on the weapons free order. It should be over before we arrive in Nevada.”

          Deepsix was silent for several seconds.

          “Malcolm, are you still there?” she asked.

          “Yes,” he said sadly. “Just wishing I’d told the guys what was up. They deserve to know their deaths matter.”

          “I know,” Allison said, she sounded strained and choked. “So does yours Malcolm, so does yours.”

          He watched the water and was lucky enough to see the missiles. Twenty thin metallic tubes pointed with nuclear death broke the surface of the water trailing smoke and fire.

Chapter 16

USS FLAGG

Bridge

          “I understand this is a horrible responsibility to put on you Shipwreck but we don’t have any other choice,” Hawk continued. “We’re hemorrhaging time and assets Hector.”

          “You know what you’re asking me to Hawk. You know what you’re asking my crew to do.” There was no recrimination in the sailor’s voice just a tired resignation.

          “Yes I do son,” Hawk answered quietly. “We all do.”

          “Alright,” Shipwreck answered all business now. “We’ll give’em everything we have and then some, sir. We’ll make you all proud.”

          “I know you will,” Hawk answered woodenly.

          “Yo Joe, Hawk,” Shipwrecked finished.

          “Yo Joe,” Hawk answered signing off.

          The bridge was silent—not a man or woman did more than breathe. Finally Cutter broke the quiet.

          “Orders Hawk?” he asked.

          “We keep moving. There’s no way to know if this will work or if it does if we’ll get all of them in the blast,” Hawk responded before walking back to the nook containing the ever steaming coffee urn. “I’ve just ordered our friends to sacrifice themselves, the least we can do is make sure it’s finished.”

USS FLAGG

Computer Lab

          “Do you think it’s done already?” Zaranna asked.

          She and Mainframe had been eating, sleeping, and working in the confined space since the crisis began only taking the occasional restroom break. The air was thick and redolent with the funk of stress and unwashed bodies. On their screens, the current iteration of the program designed to break Cobras stranglehold on communications ran. This was the eleventh attempt at shutting down the virus and jamming signal they’d attempted.

          “I don’t know,” Mainframe answered looking up from his flat screen monitor and rubbing his bleary eyes. “Maybe when the sun goes down we’ll be able to see a change in the colors on the horizon if it has?”

          “Maybe,” she agreed getting up and walking around the table. Standing behind her husband, Zaranna, slipped her arms around his neck crossing her hands on his chest and hugged him tight. “I love you Blaine,” she whispered in his ear.

          “I love you too,” he responded turning his head to meet her lips. The kiss was brief but intense. “I don’t know if I could do this without you.” One of his hands reached up searching for something warm and comforting.

          That was when their computer screens began to flash.

          “Holy shit, we did it!” Zaranna exclaimed releasing her husband and rushing to her side of their workspace. “Oh my God, Blaine, we found it!”

          On the screens amidst the code and jargon was direct linkage to the satellite network and the Space Station. On the small computer speakers a signal sentence repeated over and over.

          “To anyone receiving, this is Space Station Freedom… Can anyone hear us?”

Chapter 17

Café Solo

Gibraltar

          “You look lovely my dear,” Destro said pulling the chair out for the tall gorgeous woman in front of him. “It has been far too long since we dined together. Remember that little bistro in Lyon?”

          “I have no desire to reminisce with you Destro and this is not a date,” the Baroness said coldly. She stood still until Destro took his own seat then she seated herself. Then she reluctantly added, “We have business to discuss.”

          “Yes, of course,” Destro replied. He motioned and a waiter brought them a bottle of wine and a basket of hot fresh bread. “But even if this is a working dinner it’s still a dinner.”

          “Fine,” the Baroness answered. “We can eat but if you do or say anything I find objectionable I’m going to fillet you like a fish before either of our guards can reach us.”

          Destro smiled. It was an unusual thing for the man to be out in public and not wearing his mask. But as is so often said in these trying days sometimes anonymity is the best defense. That said, he still wore the bright red garnet medallion around his neck, the token of his family’s heritage never left him.

          “I have never doubted your ruthlessness my dear,” he laughed before he turned serious. “Very well, we need to discuss the current situation in the Gulf and across the globe.”

          “That’s why I’m here,” she snapped back irritably.

          “Have you been in contact with the commander?” Destro asked sipping his wine. “Or, more importantly, have you been in contact with any of your contacts in his organization within the last six month?”

          A worried expression crossed the Baroness’ face.

          “Allow me to guess,” Destro continued not waiting for her to answer. “Approximately six months ago the Commander quit returning your calls and all of your sources both on and off of the Island went dark.”

          The Baroness nodded slowly.

          “Furthermore your operation suddenly began to fall apart,” he continued. “For reasons you have been unable to explain long term programs that’ve been running without a hiccup for years, dissolved overnight. Now worldwide communications have been almost entirely shutdown, weather patterns are being disrupted on a global scale, and there are rumors of an unknown force gathering around Cobra Island.”

          “What’s going on Destro?” the Baroness finally asked the adversarial attitude gone from her voice.   “What is that mad man doing?”

          “I suffered the same setbacks as you but I got lucky,” he continued, spreading fresh yellow butter on the piping hot bread. “One of my sources on the Island was not detected and I was given enough warning to protect my communications network.”

          “Who do you have in your pocket?” the Baroness hissed.

          “That is not important,” Destro said waving his free hand dismissively. “The point is I have a bit more information than anyone else and I am willing to share it with you.”

          The Baroness glared at him. “I am not enjoying you game Destro. Just tell me what you want.”

          “Very well,” he sighed. “This situation is bigger than we can handle. It is abundantly clear that hissing idiot has decided to cut us loose and that speaks to something dangerous. For all of his intelligence and cleverness, the Commander is not a man who will move unless he’s sure he has the advantage. The two of us pooling our resources might protect us but it will not stop whatever mad scheme he’s cooked up.”

          The Baroness nodded. She might not like the Commander but she didn’t underestimate his duplicity and capacity for treachery. He was the single most dangerous and unpredictable person she’d ever had the displeasure of knowing.

          “We’re going to have to seek new allies,” Destro finished.

          “I may have a few thoughts on that,” the Baroness said finally picking up her wine and taking a sip.

Chapter 18

Groom Lake Nevada

Area 51

          “Welcome to the home of all things alien, odd, and unexplainable,” Sparks said, offering his hand to Duke who took it and shook hard. The Director of Area 51 still remembered his days as a Joe and couldn’t help smiling and joking despite the dire situation.

          “It’s good to be here Alex,” Duke said looking around the sparsely appointed reception area. “Although I have to admit this is not what I expected.”

          “Well Duke,” Sparks said gesturing for the new arrivals to follow him. “This might be one of the best guarded and strangest places in the country but it’s still an American military base. We work with what we’re given.”

          Behind Duke followed Flint, Allison, and Steeler who was in a wheelchair being pushed by Flint. The three men were fascinated by the complex, while Allison knew her way around almost as well as Sparks.

          “I’m still confused as to why General Manning ordered us here,” Duke continued. “I understand that communications were not secure enough to risk telling us until we were here, but now I’d really like some answers.”

          “And you’ll get them,” Sparks replied stopping in front of the elevator. A scanner beam played across his right eye and the doors opened. “But it’ll be easier to show and tell at the same time.” The group entered the elevator and the doors closed silently behind them.

          “A little history before we get started,” Sparks said. “The base was established under a special order from the War Department between World War One and World War Two. Following the Roswell incident in 1947--”

          “What incident? I thought that was a hoax?” Duke asked.

          “No, it was a real thing,” Allison answered. “Long story short, an alien vessel crashed, we recovered it along with the bodies of several extraterrestrials, and we’ve been trying to unravel their technology ever since.”

          “But that has nothing directly to do with our current predicament,” Sparks said taking back the lead of the conversation. “As the scope of what we didn’t know became clearer, more and more funds were directed towards this facility. If it’s outside the current sphere of mainstream science we work on it here.”

          The elevator dinged and the doors slid open soundlessly.

          “Everything you think you know about this complex barely scratches the surface,” Sparks said gesturing for the Joes to exit. “From here on out you will learn things you’ve never considered possible.”

Chapter 19

The Other Earth

16 Months Ago

Las Vegas

          Dusty was shoved through the doorway and into an open space that smelled of dust and dry rot. That was all he could determine with his head encased in a black cloth hood. He fell to the floor and winced when the rough concrete scraped the palms of his hands.

          “Leave the hood on until you’re told to remove it,” the large man who’d met him at the old fountain growled.  “If you do anything I don’t like you’ll be able to meet you counterpart in the afterlife, comprendo?”

          Dusty grunted his understanding.

          The door shut and Dusty knew he was alone.

          It’d been a rough two months. He’d been fully briefed on what the other Joe’s had found on this world but the situation he encountered was even worse. A world ravaged by years of civil war and chaos. Once he’d been sufficiently oriented to the situation, Dusty had planted the buoys, destroyed the carriage, and then headed out to see what he could see.

          There’d been a few close calls but eventually he’d hooked up with a minor resistance cell in Carson City. After a dozen missions he’d been summoned to meet with people higher in the tight organization. He arrived in the ruins of Las Vegas three hours earlier. The man he met addressed him not by his assumed name but by his GI Joe codename. His attempts to explain ended only with Dusty being hooded and driven to god-only-knew-where to wait.

          The door behind him opened and then closed.

          “You can take the hood off Dusty,” a very familiar voice he couldn’t place said.

          Reaching up Dusty slipped the hot fabric from his sweaty face. A single bare light bulb burned from a socket in the ceiling above illuminating an empty room. Turning his head he took in the man speaking to him.

          He was tall, well over six feet, his skin was sun browned and covered in a labyrinth of scars. One bright blue eye gazed at him while the other was covered in a leather patch. Grey hair on his head and face was trimmed short.

          “Sparks?” Dusty said in shock. He’d been told all of the Joes on this world were dead but here was one of the staring at him.

          “It’s good to see you Dusty,” Sparks said offering him a hand.

          Wordlessly Dusty took the thickly callused hand and stood.

          “Sorry about the hood but we can’t be too careful—not after what happened to Anastasia,” Sparks said a sad look on his face. “By the way, people here don’t call me Sparks anymore.”

          “Then what do I call you?” Dusty asked.

          “Well, I usually go by Alex,” he said grinning, “but my Joes call me Professor.”

GI Joe HQ

Nevada Wasteland

          “Dusty!” Clutch cried taking his friend in a tight bear hug. “Holy smokes it’s really you. They said it was but I didn’t believe it!” He hugged him harder and swung the other man around.

          “Clutch,” Dusty gasped, “I’d like to breathe now buddy.”

          “Sorry. Grunt is gonna be so pissed he wasn’t here to great you. He’s on an op with the Russkies in Alaska,” Clutch laughed releasing Dusty and patting him hard on the back. The man seemed to be convinced that if he stopped touching Dusty he’d disappear. “I just can’t believe you’re here. Did you talk to Steeler, is that why you came through?”

          “Um, what?” Dusty asked perplexed.

          “Steeler, he went back home two months ago to throw up a flag,” Clutch said. “Is that why you’re here, to assess the situation and report back to HQ?” he asked hopefully.

          “I’ve been over here for two months myself,” Dusty answered. “Steeler and I must have crossed paths without knowing it,” he finished.

          Silence filled the space. Neither man wanted to openly contemplate the possibility Steeler might not have made it.

          “Well you made it here,” the Professor said joining the conversation. “That means you people have been taking all of this seriously and working toward a solution.”

          “Yes, sir,” Dusty replied relieved to have a different direction of conversation. “The project has been up and running almost since the day our people returned from this side. Actually your counterpart is in charge of things over there.”

          “See Professor,” Clutch laughed, “Steeler was right. He knew our Sparks would be on the problem like a dog on a bone.”

          “What’s your mission son?” the Professor asked.

          Dusty started speaking and didn’t stop for a long time.

Chapter 20

G.I. Joe Headquarters

West Virginia

          Since the missile attack on the HQ, Joes had trickled in. They came in singles and small groups. With communications sundered and the loss of life at their command center, the Joes all threw in to the salvage and rescue effort. So far none of the skeleton staff who had been on station when the missiles arrived had been found alive. But more than half, including Ripcord and Dial Tone, were unaccounted for.

          “Only a few more feet and we’ll be to the bunker,” Roadblock said. “I just hope our teammates were able to make it there and hunker down.”

          They would have already reached the shelter at the foundation of the Joe HQ if not for the inclement weather. When the rain started falling in the hours after the attack it’d been unexpected but not a real issue. In the time since the attack the rain had yet to lighten, let alone abate. The constant rain was liquefying the land around the base.

          “There is something really wrong with this weather,” Breaker said. The communications wizard was at the bottom of the trench working with four other Joes to fashion supports before continuing. “Roadblock, doesn’t all of this remind you of something?”

          “The weather is against us and we’re running out of time,” Roadblock said bringing the plasma cutter past the newly reinforced section of the trench and knelt to begin cutting. “Not realizing somebody has the old Weather Dominator back in action makes me feel like I’ve committed a crime.”

          “The last transmission from the FLAGG made it sound like they were headed into battle,” Blowtorch said joining the duo in the trench. “We need to be ready when the call comes in to move.”

          The man’s Irish brogue sounded exhausted. When he’d arrived at the HQ the fiery redhead had taken it upon himself to organize the men and women trickling in, to help salvage everything they could from the partially gutted complex.

          “Where do we stand on the muster, Irish?” Breaker asked.

          “Seventy percent of Joe’s not already accounted for at other locations have arrived here,” Blowtorch said handing Breaker a cold bottle of Yo-Joe Cola. “Despite the exterior damage to HQ the damage is minimal. Whoever targeted us knew exactly where the computer core was located and they nailed it.”

          “We all know it was the Snakes that kicked us square in the jakes,” Roadblock chimed in playing the plasma cutter across the warped frame of the shelter’s main hatch. “They got us with a sucker punch and now they think we’re on the sidelines and out to lunch.”

          “Thank God, Falcon is here now,” Blowtorch continued. “He’s getting everyone ready to fight when the word comes. They just launched a squadron of jets to do an ariel survey of the region.”

          “You were doing a great job, Irish,” Breaker said before loosing a loud belch and grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I was really thirsty.”

          Everyone in the trench stopped and stared at the men then broke out in fits of laughter. It was a break in the tension they all needed. The cracking of thunder far overhead was drowned out by the intensity of the laughter.

          That was when the pounding from inside the shelter started.

Chapter 21

Siberia

Gulag #429

          Snake Eyes watched the guards at the front gates. They were supposed to rotate outside of the heated shack every fifteen minutes but in the hour he’d been observing through the nearly blinding snow they’d all remained bundled up inside.

          Having changed his normal black for arctic camouflage he glided silently across the space between the tree line and camp perimeter. The optics in his visor gave Snake Eyes vision far beyond the human spectrum allowing him to avoid invisible means of detection. This wasn’t a mission requiring overwhelming firepower or numerical superiority—all he had to do was get over the wall undetected. Then came the hard part…

          A flick of the wrists extended the climbing claws in his gauntlets.

          Speed was the key. In the years he’d lived and trained with the Arashikage clan he’d faced many hurtles but the ability to move fast had never been a challenge. Without breaking stride the lithe muscular man crouched and leapt at the perimeter wall. Time stood still and in that minuscule moment between heartbeats anything and everything was possible.

          The claws dug into the upper lip of the wall. Corresponding spikes extended from his boots and the Joe known only as Snake Eyes, climbed up and over the crude barrier.

          Dropping to the snow covered yard on the other side he stopped and scanned the area before him. It was not what many in the west expected a gulag to be. There were a dozen log buildings. They all looked old being that they were made from old growth timber and would probably last another hundred years barring any unforeseen incident. The interior was supposed to be patrolled by teams of two guards and one arrack dog, but in the blizzard conditions the compound was as silent and as empty as a crypt. If the intelligence was accurate he wanted the large round building in the middle of the yard resembling a yurt.

          Moving quietly and with purpose Snake Eyes crossed the yard in the blink of the eye. He knew the buildings he passed were occupied—many of them with people unfairly imprisoned by the Russian government. He was forced to fight his normal impulse to free all of the prisoners. The fate of the human race was more important than a few individuals, that was what he had to keep telling himself.

          He knew he’d dream of them for a long time.

          Two living, breathing, guards stood in front of the building. He had one chance to eliminate the guards before they could raise any alarm and empty the guard barracks. If he succeeded there was still going to be the problem of their extraction from the region. The operation had been put together in minutes and with shoestring resources. But Snake Eyes was one of the best in the world at what he did.

          In one motion he launched himself toward the guards while simultaneously drawing the dual suppressed pistols from their holsters on his thighs. Like a ghost he moved through he blinding snow squeezing the triggers and pumping rounds into the figures on either side of the door. Between the sleek silencers and the sounds of the storm even Snake Eyes had trouble hearing the pistols in his gloved hands fire.

          The heavily bundled guards crumpled to the ground before they knew they were under attack. Their bodies fell against the building with a pair of solid thumps.

Inside the Building

          “Did you hear that?” Daina asked springing into readiness.

          The inside of the building was warm and smoke filled. The central open fire pit provided all of the heat and most of the light in the buildings dim interior.

          “Da,” General Vaskovia replied rising and picking up a large chunk of firewood. “I believe either one or both of our guards have been incapacitated.”

          From other areas of the large open space Wong, Red Star, and Big Bear prepared for an assault. The members of the former Oktober Guard, now known as the Winter Legion, may have been stripped of armaments but they were battle hardened warriors and not easily frightened.

          “Comrades,” Dragonsky, the oldest member of the team said from his place by the fire pit. “By all means be ready for a fight but I think this may be the opportunity we’ve been looking and waiting for.”

          “It’s either the Calvary or desperados,” Wong said, his Chinese face contrasting the American cowboy slang and Russian language.

          The sounds of the door locks being disengaged reverberated around the room.

          The members of the Winter Legion tensed for battle.

          The door opened.

          Daina leapt at the figure standing in the doorway.

          “Daina, nyet!” General Vaskovia yelled a fraction of a second too late.

          Snake Eyes stood still till just before the woman made contact with him. Any other man, no matter how well trained, would not have been able to stop her attack. But Snake Eyes was far from any other man. In a blurring of arms the Russian warrior was thrown to the ground unharmed, save for her pride.

          “Comrade Snake Eyes is that you partner?” Wong said hurrying to Dania’s side. He studied the white and grey clad man grinning. “Well I’ll be dipped, it is you!”

          Snake Eyes gestured for the members of the Winter Legion to get ready to move out. The men and one woman didn’t need to be told twice. Quickly they put on the thick winter clothing they’d been issued by the Gulag guards for when they we’re forced to work outside.

          “Comrade Snake Eyes,” General Vaskovia said belting his heavy fur coat. “Do you have an extraction plan?”

          Snake Eyes nodded and pointed to his watch indicating the need to hurry.

          Outside Russian voices broke through the sound of the storm.

          “Chert!” Daina said looking out the between the window shutters. “We need to move, the guards are being relieved.”

          Snake Eyes tossed the Russian woman one of his pistols and gestured for her to join him. Daina nodded, clicked the safety off, worked the slide to chamber a round, and headed out into the snow with the mute warrior.

          “Things must be worse than we thought,” Dragonsky whispered helping one of his teammates after another cinch up their cold weather gear. “If the Joes are sending their best operator to spring us from one of Uncle Joe’s summer camps it speaks volumes.”

          “Da,” General Vaskovia agreed. “We need to contact the President and warn him, that is if the same bastards who imprisoned us haven’t already killed him.”

          The sounds of suppressed gunfire wafted into the building. Then all was silent save for the wind and snow.

Chapter 22

Cobra Island

The Palace

          Alarms screamed inside and outside of the palace. On the main screen twenty missiles streaked high into the sky and once they reached apogee arced back down toward the island and the waters surrounding it.

          “Do something!” Cobra Commander screamed. “Do something you fools or we’re all dead!”

          Below his perch high above, the rows of technicians and associated operations personnel scrambled. Despite their leaders frantic orders the men and women who made sure the island and associated forces operated smoothly kept their cool.

          “Father,” Billy said soundlessly slipping next to the man who was not actually his father. “Be calm, the systems I’ve installed can handle this and your personnel know their jobs.”

          “Yes of course,” the Commander said then did something he’d never done in living memory. He addressed the control staff without venom, “You are the best and brightest Cobra has to offer. I know you will do your jobs and be exemplary.”

          A murmur of surprise raced around the chamber. That was followed by the men and women who were so used the mercurial and acerbic nature of their leader, stood straighter and held their heads higher.

          The view on the main screen changed. Instead of the satellite feed showing the trajectory of the nuclear tipped missiles, everyone was now looking at the heavily armored Terror Drome Billy, and his crew of engineers had erected. The top of the building slid open to reveal a dozen weapon clusters. Mini missile launchers, rail guns, and directed energy weapons all were aimed skyward.

          “There is no need to worry,” Billy added nodding toward the screen. “We’ve been dealing with things like this for a long time.”

          The antimissile mini missiles launched first, followed by the roar of the rail gun which threw solid metal slugs heavenward at several times the speed of sound. Moments before the initial volley struck the incoming nuclear weapons the directed energy system engaged. Moving at the speed of light the high intensity coherent laser beams impacted simultaneously with the mini missiles and rail gun rounds.

          The sky high above the island was filled with light, fury, and fire.

          “See Father,” Billy said placing a hand on the Commanders shoulder, “I told you there was nothing to fear.”

          “Excellent,” Cobra Commander hissed. He stared at the sight of missile debris falling into the ocean. The sight was beautiful in the clearness of the night sky. He continued in a hushed tone, “I believe it is time to proceed to the next phase of the operation Son.”

          “Agreed,” Billy replied then hesitated before continuing, “And the other issue we discussed?”

          “That as well,” Cobra Commander replied. “When this is over son we’ll have everything we’ve ever dreamed of.” Then to the shock and amazement of the men and women in the control room, Cobra Commander turned and embraced the man who wore the face of his deceased son.

          It was a brand new day for Cobra.

Chapter 23

New York City

The United Nations Security Council

          In the hours following the failed American missile attack on Cobra island the global situation had gone from bad to worse. The first indication that the board had again been changed was when the Hoover Dam in Nevada, Three Gorges Dam in China, and the Sayano–Shushenskaya Dam in Russia, were destroyed sending hundreds of millions of gallons of water rushing downstream killing millions in a handful of heartbeats.

          The destructions of the dams were followed by bridges, railheads, airports, and transportation hubs across the world. The combined effect was to bring an already partially crippled world infrastructure to its knees. That was followed by mass invasion of all land adjacent to the Gulf of Mexico and by the awakening of sleeper cells across the world that seized key areas and installations.

          “They are pounding us from all sides!” the Russian President yelled over the din of voices. He’d been in New York when the crisis began and had removed the Russian representative from the council and filled the slot himself. He was the only world leader present at the meeting, he found that strange but didn’t have time to consider it. “Bridges, rail lines, airports, dams—it doesn’t matter what it is. If it has any kind of strategic significance Cobra hits it. We have to hit them back and hit them hard!”

          “Easy enough for you to say Vladimir,” the American representative responded icily. “Their slimy boots aren’t on your ground.”

          “Surrender is not an option,” the ex KGB man turned global leader yelled slamming a fist onto his desk. “We will die before surrendering.”

          “Then you will die,” the Chinese representative answered.

          “What is wrong with you Gouwei?” Vladimir asked shocked. Of all the world leaders and representatives gathered in the room he’d been confident the small Chinese man would have his back. “How can you even consider this? I want to talk to your President!”

          “I am afraid the President has suffered an unfortunate accident,” Gouwei replied.

          That was when the President of the Russian Federation, one of the strongest nations on the globe, realized he was in trouble. The eyes of the other representatives stared at him coldly.

          “Where is the American President?” Vladimir asked rising from his seat and backing away from the group. “Where are the British and Canadian Prime Ministers? Where are the leaders of the European Union?”

          “Just calm down Vladimir,” Gouwei said rising from his seat and walking toward him. “Sit back down and we’ll explain everything to you.”

          “No thank you,” Vladimir responded. “I’ll be heading back to the embassy.”

          “We can’t let you do that,” Gouwei replied.

          “I’d like to see you stop me,” Vladimir laughed. Then the President of the largest country on the earth thrust his hand inside his jacket and withdrew the battered Tokarev pistol he’s carried since his days in the Red Army.

          Gouwei sprang.

          Vladimir opened fire and didn’t stop until he was out of bullets.

Chapter 24

Cobra Earth

Imperial Palace, Cobra Island

          The small, dark, cold, and wet room echoed with screams of pain.

          Despite the claims to the contrary it is possible to resist interrogation. What is not possible to forever resist is the need to react to pain. The human body is programmed to react to stimulus and no matter how hard a person fights, unless they are already dead, they will react.

          “All you have to do is tell me what I want to know and this can all stop,” Storm Shadow said. The slim Japanese man sounded bored as he drove another foot long needle into Dusty’s shoulder.

          “When are the rebels going to strike?”

          “Are there other people from your world here?”

          “What is your real mission?”

          The restrained man hung from a hook in the ceiling by his wrists. Blood tricked across his exposed flesh mixing with the sweat and grime coating him.

          “I already said I don’t know the resistances plans and I have no idea if anyone else from my world is here,” Dusty grunted through gritted teeth. Pain filled every inch of his body radiating from the more than two dozen needles inserted into strategic spots on his naked body. “And when it comes to my mission, you can go to hell.”

          “Why must you try my patience?” Storm Shadow continued turning to look in the black leather bag containing his interrogation tools. “I do not enjoy hurting you. You have been a worthy opponent and I would prefer to grant you a warrior’s release.”

          “Tommy, why are you like this?” Dusty asked. “This isn’t you.”

          Storm Shadow stopped looking in his case and turned to look at Dusty. His head was cocked to the side and there was a quizzical expression on his face. It was the first emotion Dusty had seen on the man face and it was the first time he truly recognized him.

          One thing Dusty had figured out pretty quick was that on this world the personalities of the people were pretty much the same as on his own Earth. Some of them had been shaped by circumstances unimaginable on his world, the Baroness falling in love with Steeler being the largest example of that, but they were still the same people. For the first time since being captured Dusty saw his friend in the face of his torturer.

          “How do you know my name?” Storm Shadow asked quietly.

          “We’re friends,” Dusty said looking the man straight in his piercing dark eyes. “On my world you’re a good guy, you’re a trusted friend, you’re a mentor, and you’re a Joe.”

          Shock filled Storm Shadows’ face.

          “When my wife and kids were killed you came to me and offered me the hand of friendship,” Dusty continued sensing he was on the right path and building momentum. “Thomas Arashikage, you’re my friend and I trust you with my life.”

          There was a sharp knocking on the chamber door.

          Storm Shadow walked to the door and opened it. A tall Crimson Guard armed only with a sidearm entered the chamber. Dusty thought, for the millionth time since arriving on this bizzaro world, that the Cobra uniforms on this Earth were considerably more imposing than the ones on his own world.

          “The Emperor demands an update,” the guard said. His voice was filled with derision and contempt.

          It still amazed Dusty that Storm Shadow, who’d been so high in his own world’s Cobra infrastructure before he defected, was looked upon as someone of little to no worth here on this one where Cobra held all of the power.

          Faster than the human eye could track Storm Shadow moved. One second he was stock still in front of the guardsman and the next he was a blur of motion as his bare hands sized the sides of the unsuspecting man’s head.

          A sharp snapping sound filled the chamber.

          The Crimson Guardsman fell to the ground, his head turned at an impossible angel.

          “What the hell?” Dusty whispered in shock.

          Storm Shadow didn’t answer. Instead he withdrew a short sharp knife from his bag and slashed the ropes binding Dusty’s wrists together. Then he deftly caught the weakened man with his one free arm before he could hit the floor.

          “We have to hurry,” Storm Shadow said. “It won’t be long before that one is missed.”

          “What are you doing?” Dusty asked struggling to gain his own legs and hissing as Storm Shadow began removing the needles.

          “I have lived under the thumb of Cobra for a long time,” Storm Shadow whispered as he withdrew the last needle. “Never have I seen a true opportunity to make things better. Only lateral changes in the status quo.” Storm Shadow reached under the table and brought out the clothes he’d removed from Dusty when this nightmare had begun. “Now, with you here, I see a real chance to end this.”

          “How do I know I can trust you?” Dusty asked struggling to clothe himself. “You’ve spent the last couple of days torturing me, after all.”

          Storm Shadow removed the side arm from the dead Crimson Guard and handed it to Dusty. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to give me a chance.”

          Dusty checked the power levels on the plasma based weapon, he was still amazed by some of the tech on this world, and nodded when he saw it was fully charged. He wanted to trust him on his world there were few he trusted as much and none he trusted more.

          “Alright,” Dusty said, “I’ll give you a chance.”

          Storm Shadow nodded and held out a bare hand.

          Hesitating only for a second Dusty took it.