Ghosts of the Last War

The Long Flight Back

The research station's helicopter was old, battered, and barely airworthy.

Xander stood in the freezing wind, watching the pilot run through the pre-flight checks. The man was Norwegian, middle-aged, with a face like weathered leather. He'd been stationed at the research station for three years and hadn't asked a single question about who they were or why they needed to leave in such a hurry.

Some people knew better than to ask.

"Fuel's good," the pilot said. "But we're pushing the weight limit with all four of you. We'll have to travel light."

"We'll travel however we need to," Xander said. "Just get us to the mainland."

"I can get you to Longyearbyen. After that, you're on your own."

Xander nodded. Longyearbyen was the main settlement on Svalbard. From there, they could catch a flight to mainland Norway, then on to the United States. It would take time, but it was the only way.

He turned to the others. Hawthorn was already in the helicopter, his weapons stowed, his face grim. Reyes was climbing in behind him, her shoulder bandaged, her expression unreadable. Anya was last, her face pale, her eyes distant.

Xander helped her into the helicopter, his hand on her arm. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Her voice was quiet, hollow. "I just need a minute."

"We don't have a minute."

"Then I'll take it later."

Xander climbed in beside her. The helicopter lifted off, the rotors thrumming, and they rose into the Arctic sky.

The compound was burning below them, a pillar of smoke rising against the white landscape. Xander watched it fade into the distance, his mind racing.

Webb was still out there. The copies were still out there. Thousands of soldiers, reprogrammed and controlled, scattered across the globe. The war was far from over.

But for now, they had a chance. A chance to regroup, to plan, to find a way to stop him.

---

The flight to Longyearbyen took three hours.

Xander spent most of it staring out the window, his thoughts churning. The events of the past few days had been a blur—the ambush, the escape, the compound, the processing room. He'd come so close to losing everything. So close to becoming one of Webb's puppets.

But he'd survived. They'd all survived.

Anya was asleep beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. She looked younger when she was asleep, her face relaxed, the fear and exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

Xander studied her. She was tougher than she looked. She'd been through hell, watched her mentor taken, been subjected to Webb's experiments, and she was still fighting. Still refusing to give up.

He respected that. He respected her.

"Cross." Hawthorn's voice broke through his thoughts. "We've got a problem."

Xander turned. "What kind of problem?"

"The pilot's been trying to raise Longyearbyen for the past hour. No response. The radio's dead."

Xander's blood went cold. "Webb?"

"Maybe. Or just bad luck." Hawthorn's face was grim. "But we can't land without clearance. They'll shoot us down."

"Then we find another way." Xander moved to the cockpit. "Pilot. We need to land somewhere else."

"There's nowhere else," the pilot said. "Longyearbyen is the only settlement on the island. We could try to make it to the mainland, but we don't have enough fuel."

Xander's mind raced. "What about the abandoned mining camp? The one to the north?"

The pilot's face went pale. "That's a ghost town. No one's been there for years. There's no runway, no fuel, no nothing."

"Then we improvise." Xander's voice was hard. "We need to get on the ground. We'll figure out the rest from there."

The pilot hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But if we crash, it's on you."

"It's always on me."

---

The abandoned mining camp was exactly as the pilot had described—a ghost town, empty and decaying. The buildings were half-collapsed, the streets overgrown with snow and ice. There was no runway, just a flat stretch of snow that the pilot used to land the helicopter.

They touched down hard, the skids digging into the snow. The helicopter shuddered, then went still.

Xander climbed out, his breath misting in the cold. The wind was brutal, cutting through his jacket like a knife. He scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of pursuit.

Nothing. Just snow and ice and silence.

He turned to the others. "We need to find shelter. Somewhere to regroup."

"There's a building over there," Reyes said, pointing to a structure on the edge of the camp. "Looks like it might still be standing."

They moved toward it, their feet crunching in the snow. The building was an old warehouse, its roof half-collapsed, its walls covered in ice. But the door was still intact, and the interior was relatively dry.

Xander pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The warehouse was empty, its floors covered in dust and debris. There were old crates stacked against the walls, their contents long since rotted or looted. But there was also a stove, rusted but intact, and a stack of firewood.

Hawthorn moved to the stove, lighting a fire. "This'll keep us warm for a few hours. But we need to figure out our next move."

Xander nodded. He pulled out the data stick that Thorne had given him, the one that held the location of the original data base. "Anya. Can you access this without a computer?"

Anya moved to his side, taking the data stick. "I need a terminal. But maybe I can use the helicopter's navigation system."

"Then go. Reyes, go with her. Keep her safe."

Reyes nodded and followed Anya out of the warehouse.

Xander turned to Hawthorn. "We need to talk."

"About what?"

"About Reyes. About what happens next." Xander's voice was quiet. "I don't trust her."

"Neither do I." Hawthorn's face was hard. "She's been using us from the beginning. She doesn't care about Thorne or your men. She just wants to destroy the Ghost Protocol for her own reasons."

"I know. But she's also our best asset. Without her, we wouldn't have gotten to the Arctic. We wouldn't have found the compound."

"So what do we do?"

"We keep her close. We watch her. And when the time comes, we make sure she can't betray us."

Hawthorn nodded. "And what about Anya?"

Xander was silent for a long moment. "I don't know. She's scared, but she's also brave. She wants to help. She wants to make things right."

"Can you trust her?"

"I don't trust anyone." Xander's voice was cold. "But she's earned the right to prove herself."

---

Anya returned an hour later, her face pale, her eyes bright with excitement.

"I found it," she said. "The original data base. It's at Fort Belvoir, in Virginia. It's buried deep in the base's network, encrypted and hidden. But I can access it. I can destroy it."

Xander's heart pounded. "How?"

"I need to get to the base. I need access to their mainframe. Once I'm in, I can upload a virus that will wipe everything clean."

"How long will it take?"

"Minutes. Maybe less. But I have to be on-site. I can't do it remotely."

Xander nodded. "Then that's what we'll do. We get to Virginia. We get you inside. And we destroy the data base once and for all."

Anya's face was determined. "I'll do it. I'll do whatever it takes."

Xander looked at her, seeing the steel beneath the fear. She was stronger than she knew.

"Then get some rest," he said. "We leave at dawn."

---

Dawn came slowly, the Arctic sun painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Xander stood outside the warehouse, watching the horizon.

His leg was aching, the old wound throbbing with the cold. He'd been pushing himself too hard, too long. His body was starting to give out.

But he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he was so close.

Anya appeared beside him, her eyes tired but alert. "You should be resting."

"So should you."

"I can't sleep." She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the processing room. I see Webb's face."

Xander moved closer, putting his arm around her. "You survived. That's what matters."

"Barely." Her voice was quiet. "If you hadn't come... I would be one of them. One of Webb's puppets."

"But you're not. And you're not going to be. I'm going to make sure of that."

Anya looked up at him, her eyes searching. "Why? Why do you care so much? You barely know me."

Xander was silent for a long moment. "Because you remind me of someone. Someone I couldn't save."

"Who?"

"A woman I knew. A long time ago." Xander's voice was soft. "She was a medic in my unit. She died in Karakum. I couldn't save her. I couldn't save any of them."

Anya was silent, her hand finding his. "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Xander's voice was hard. "But I'm not going to let that happen again. I'm going to save you. I'm going to save all of them."

---

They left the mining camp at dawn, hiking across the frozen tundra toward the coast. The pilot had given them coordinates for a fishing village fifty kilometers away, where they could find a boat to take them to the mainland.

The journey was brutal. The wind was relentless, the snow deep and treacherous. Xander pushed through it, his leg screaming, his body aching. Anya was struggling, her smaller frame less resistant to the cold. Hawthorn stayed close to her, shielding her from the wind.

Reyes walked ahead, her eyes fixed on the horizon. She hadn't spoken in hours, her face a mask of concentration.

Xander watched her, his suspicions growing. She was planning something. He could feel it.

But he didn't know what.

---

They reached the fishing village at dusk.

It was a small settlement, a cluster of buildings huddled against the coast. There were boats in the harbor, small and battered, but seaworthy.

Xander found an old fisherman who was willing to take them to the mainland for a price. The man didn't ask questions, just took the money and gestured to his boat.

They boarded the boat and set out across the sea.

The water was dark, the waves rough. Xander sat in the bow, staring out at the endless expanse of water. His mind was churning, trying to plan their next move.

They had to get to Virginia. They had to destroy the data base. But there were so many obstacles, so many ways it could go wrong.

And then there was Webb. He was out there, somewhere, planning his next move.

The boat rocked, and Xander's eyes grew heavy. He hadn't slept in days, and his body was finally giving out.

He let himself drift, just for a moment.

When he opened his eyes, they were approaching the mainland.

And Reyes was standing over him, a gun in her hand.

"Cross," she said. "We need to talk."