“No mirror can reveal it,
no surgeon can remove it.
It is an invisible enemy, the worst kind.”
- Sixth Tome of Brother Jacob
In the briefing room, six agents sat at ease on their steel benches.
In front of them stood Commander Ali-Baba. His dark eyebrows sat flat across his eyes. His right hand had been replaced, after being lost in the Hanean war, by a crude cluster of actuators and sensors. He had been given the opportunity, on many occasions, to upgrade to a more sophisticated model, but he refused.
He missed his real hand. He missed the way he knew exactly what it would do, how it felt, how it gripped things. No matter how fancy the skin toning, or how realistic the articulation of a prosthetic, it would never replace his old hand. Any attempt would just be disrespectful.
He clutched a remote control roughly while he waited patiently for the crew to settle.
Ali-Baba cleared his throat loudly.
“If you've quite finished, we can begin,” he said, his gravelly voice hitting a tenor's timbre.
The background noise stopped abruptly and the agents sat straight. Ali-Baba clicked a button on the remote control, making a map appear on a board behind him.
“You will be deployed outside of Chicago, in the province of Illinois at twenty hundred hours local time. Insertion is here, on the outskirts of Wheaton, about thirty odd kilometers out. You are to make your way on foot to this structure here.”
A green indicator flashed over a building to the North West.
“This used to be a fire station. It is disused now, any locals are to be considered squatters. Agent Cassandra, you will attain access to the structure. Agent Lucas, you will set up in the tower and provide long range observation. Agents Norbert, Ottavio and Simon, you will provide cover and engage any hostiles that might be in or around the structure. Agent Emily, you will join Cassandra and scout for and disable any traps in or around the structure that may pose a threat.”
Ali-Baba clicked the remote again. The map widened to show a satellite view of the main town of Wheaton. It looked tight and clustered.
“Once you have established a base camp and secured the surrounding area, if the team leader deems it safe you will make your way to the eastern edge of the town.”
The map showed a wriggling path up and through the town, highlighting various buildings and landmarks along the way.
“The town itself is lightly inhabited. They won't trust outsiders yet. Houston's Hearts and Minds hasn't established itself here, so avoid any contact. Feel free to engage any hostile, but do not fire if you are not directly threatened. We aren't here to win friends, but we also don't need the media hounding us for perceived crimes against humanity. Your objective is located somewhere around here.”
Ali-Baba tapped the remote control. The map zoomed in on a section of the town, highlighting a series of buildings.
“One of these buildings holds what we believe to be a cache of drug manufacturing equipment and a functioning laboratory. We haven't got a perfect bead, but we've tracked energy usages and equipment being shipped into the area. Considering this place is supposed to be as dead as a doornail, there's definitely something fishy going on.”
Simon raised his hand, “So we blow it up?”
Ali shook his head, “Once you have determined the location the cache, agent Norbert will tap any network and record intelligence. You will then return to the base and await further instructions. While we definitely want to put a sting on any drug or weapons manufacturing being performed in this area, the site itself has been earmarked for peaceful industry. Hence, all equipment must remain intact. This last order is critical to mission success.”
Emily raised her hand, “Can we expect any traps, sentries or security around the laboratory site, sir?”
Ali-Baba checked his notes, “The laboratory is presumed to be automated and security light. Nothing is showing up on thermal satellite imagery except small motions in and around the area on a regular basis. The amount of activity around the area would only warrant a few cameras and possibly a robotic sentry or two to keep out nosy locals and scavengers. We expect the laboratory and cache to be hidden from plain view, but accessible. Still, keep on guard. Satellite imagery and intelligence can only provide so much.”
“Being close to the wasteland as it is, you can expect a mutant or two that may have wandered in. There's nothing of interest to attract any Rags, and no significant military presence has been seen nearby. Radiation and toxicity levels are within acceptable limits, but still, don't drink the water. Any further questions?”
Simon coughed. Nobody raised their hands.
“Good. Simon, special briefing in my office in two minutes. This should be a nice, easy mission, people. You've been training together for the past while, now let's see if we can't get you functioning out in the field. You leave in half an hour. Don't get hurt out there.”
The chatter renewed. Simon slapped Lucas on the back, “Here's hoping you get to try your toy out.”
Lucas shook his head, “It would be better if I never have a need to fire it.”
“Pfft! Mate. I'm not sure if I've ever seen you as a pacifist, Lucas.”
“I'm not a pacifist, Simon. If I were, I would not be in this role. It's more so that my shots are for a kill, not wounding or disabling. If I squeeze the trigger, the target is dead.”
“Of course, that's the idea...”
“The removing of a life from this world is a serious undertaking, and I'm convinced that many situations can be resolved without the need for death,” responded Lucas.
“Oh great,” said Simon, looking at him underneath lowered eyebrows, “I've got a bloody sniper with a conscience. Am I going to have issues with you out in the field, mate?”
Lucas shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, “I won't hesitate to make the shot if ordered. I only said it would be better never to need to fire it.”
“Whatever. You guys get your asses to the staging area, eh?” Simon called, trotting off to Ali-Baba's office.
Lucas scratched his head absently.
Ottavio turned talk to Cassandra but she was already half way out the room, heading to the staging area, so he turned to Norbert. He had a light stubble smeared across his face. Several scars raised the skin in patches, giving him an air of someone who narrowly missed out on the experience of dying on more than one occasion.
“Howdy,” said Ottavio, nodding slightly, “We haven't spoken much in training.”
Norbert looked him up and down.
“There's probably a reason,” he grunted.
Ottavio looked him square in the eye, unsure of exactly what to say. Norbert snorted, turned on his heels and headed off. Ottavio watched as he walked out the door.
“Did... what did I say?” he appealed.
“Don't pay him much attention,” said Emily, pushing Ottavio out the door as well, “You got more out of him than I have so far. All the mods must have made his brain a little strange. I think he spends his time in his dorm wearing a tinfoil hat. Come on, we'd better get suited up.”
Ottavio walked along the corridors with her and Lucas. She had a spring in every step, causing her light hair to bounce lightly off her forehead as she went.
“He can be a bit of a dick, I've heard,” she said, “But he's alright underneath, you know. That's what Natasha says, anyhow. I admire your attempt at small talk. If we're a team, we'd better get to know each other a bit better. Outside of training and all.”
Lucas nodded, “Considering we've all been modded in some way, that's at least a talking point.”
“I've been meaning to ask, where do you hail from?” Ottavio asked.
“Data Gathering under Industrial Intelligence,” said Emily.
“That's based in Seattle, isn't it?” said Lucas.
“Yup. Can't say I prefer the weather there to here.”
Ottavio ventured, “So I take it you're a specialist on security?”
Emily laughed, “Ha! Hardly. I mean, yeah, that's where I'm headed, you know. I mean, I can hack a standard camera based security system no problem. It's the higher grade ones with sentinel turrets that are still giving me the peeves. Still, with this new implant...”
Emily tapped her head knowingly.
Lucas asked, “Exactly what kind of an implant aids your ability to hack a system?”
“Oh, Doctor Jung could tell you all about it, but basically I find a hotspot on a terminal and use induction sensors on my fingers to get feedback based on the type of system I'm hacking. For example, on a Boswell numeric system I can see the effect of the keys as I press them,” said Emily, poking the air, “It's just a matter of finding out which response indicates a valid entry and which is invalid, and then following the pattern. It isn't as hard as it sounds, really, well, at least not as I see it. And it sure beats guesswork.”
“Boswells are getting a bit long in the tooth, but,” said Ottavio.
“Sure are. Doesn't mean there aren't a heck of a lot installed around the place. Besides, I don't just do the Boswells. The Indusafe ones are almost identical, except the feedback is a little harder to get going.”
The three walked into the staging area. Norbert was already getting his vest on. Cassandra was busy checking the contents of her belt. She smiled as they walked in. Ottavio smiled back. Lucas nodded.
“Help me out with my rifle, will you,” Lucas asked.
“Sure,” Ottavio grunted, fixated on Cassandra's frame.
Emily pushed him out of the way and bubbled, “Oh my God! Cass, I'm totally sorry about the dojo yesterday. I mean, I totally thought you were ready!”
Cassandra bundled up her dark hair from her shoulders and put on her helmet.
“Please, don't sweat it, Em,” she said, “I should have been ready. And you've apologized fifty million times.”
“No, girl, you had your hand up and you were looking away. Come on, I'll give you a freebie,” said Emily, holding her chin forward, “Don't be shy. I can take it. Just give me a bit of warning first, okay?”
Cassandra laughed.
“Stop that, Em! Come on, we're supposed to be getting ready,” she said, “Simon's going to get to play leader, so we'd better not piss him off.”
She looked at Ottavio, standing there like a lost puppy.
“Dust-off is in a few minutes,” she said, “You'd better get your gear.”
“I'm, um, I'm helping Lucas...” faltered Ottavio, looking over his shoulder. Lucas had already gone to the quartermaster store to retrieve his super-sniper rifle and was muttering to himself.
Ottavio reluctantly left the two of them to chat and went to check his gear.
***
The drop ship whistled and hummed under the clouds. Pilots Harvey and Oscar expertly guided it over the Allegheny Mountains, preferring to skim close to the tops of the trees than take it to a height.
Underneath them, Ohio, the ground alternated between wastes, scattered settlements and fully functioning cities.
Supersonic flight had replaced conventional travel for military institutions several years back since the development of a mass producible class of SioNef engines. Cheap, reliable and very fast, it allowed Entities like Houston to put Peace Enforcement Officers and Agents on the ground in record time.
Upon the approach the drop ship swerved gracefully around a flock of geese before bringing the ship down to rest next to an abandoned petrol station. Dust blustered around it as the engines whined and grunted.
A door at the rear opened and six figures dropped onto the ground. Two stood guard while the rest took cover by a nearby building. One of the two gave a thumbs up and the pilots whizzed back up into the black-gray sky.
Crickets, quietened by the onrush of dust and noise, resumed their chirruping.
“Right-oh mates,” said Simon, “Let's do this smooth, eh? First things first, switch to night vision. Lucas, do a thermal, Otto keep your peepers wide and your weapon up.”
Lucas obliged while the others switched on their night vision.
“I'm not getting much, sir. There's a hot spot or two over by the south, probably subterranean pockets of heat. The town appears pretty much quiet apart from a few houses, nothing immediate.”
“Lucas, you and Otto head over to that burnt out building over there,” ordered Simon, “The rest of you hang back with me.”
Lucas and Ottavio paced slowly over to the other building. Crickets scuttled away from their feet as they crunched quietly on the gravel. Ottavio held his assault rifle at the ready.
“Pretty much a ghost town,” said Lucas. His enormous rifle was strapped to his back, making his gait a little awkward.
“You need a hand with that thing?” asked Ottavio.
Lucas shook his head, “No, I'm just not used to carrying it in the field. That's something I'll have to learn. See anything?”
“No,” said Ottavio.
“All clear here, sir,” he said into his commlink.
“Roger. Otto, we'll advance to the tall building further on. Cover us,” said Simon, “Anything moves, shoot it.”
Ottavio scratched his head, “Ali said not to engage...”
“Ali's not here, Otto,” Simon snapped, “Move equals shoot, got it?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ottavio held his rifle firmly as he watched their shadows creep along the walls. The moon was bright but the clouds softened her glow, casting the road and buildings in a mellow, pale hue.
Simon called through, “Otto, Lucas, move forward along the side of the road. Over the crest is the fire station. Get into a covered position and tell me what you see.”
Ottavio patted Lucas on the shoulder and led the way up to the top of the crest before crouching behind a cluster of concrete that used to be a retaining wall for an office complex. Lucas crouched next to him, scanning.
“I've got three hot spots, sir. Confirmed movement. One by the eastern edge of the station, the other two over by the main door.”
“Roger that Lucas. Hold tight,” said Simon.
The pair stayed crouched. Ottavio's optical display placed yellow squares around two of the figures. The other he could not see. He looked closely at one of the silhouettes. Even after his visual display interpolated the image he had trouble making out features.
“Crabmen, I'll bet,” he said.
“Could be some locals scavenging,” suggested Lucas.
“At this time of night? Wouldn't be anything left to scavenge. Besides, I'm pretty sure that one's got four arms. Nah, I'll stick with crabbies.”
Norbert's voice came through the commlink, “Listen, man, if you've got crabs, man, I can recommend a good powder. Turn your damn commlink off when you're not talking to the crew!”
Even in the dark Lucas could feel Ottavio's face blush. A rookie mistake, harmless but embarrassing. The pair stayed silent for a while.
“What's he playing at?” whispered Ottavio, looking over at the others.
Lucas kept his eyes on the station, watching the heat signatures amble about.
“He's playing it safe,” he said, “I bet he's making sure this one goes off without a hitch.”
“What's going to go wrong? This place is dead.”
“Yes, perhaps. But that doesn't mean that stuff can't go sour.”
“Report in Lucas, any changes?” squealed Simon over the commlink.
“No sir, as before.”
“Right. Right. Lucas, do another quick sweep of our surrounds.”
Lucas did so.
“Nothing else sir, we're alone.”
The commlink went silent for thirty seconds. It sounded as if the crickets were holding a party.
“OK, here's the plan. Otto, Lucas, move forward to within twenty meters of the fence line on the side of the main door. Norbert, Cass, Em, head to the eastern side and hold tight. I'm going to be on the direct approach. Call when you're in position, and nobody fire unless fired upon.”
Ottavio looked to Lucas who nodded. The two moved forward slowly and settled in a ditch by the road, watching the main entrance. They could see the crabmen clearly now, night vision showing up their exaggerated features in a garish green.
Stumpy legs supported a stout torso, covered in shining gray armor. Several limbs protruded rudely, some hanging uselessly, others sweeping the air with agitation. At the end of each was a three digit hand, the nails warped and ending in a point. A flat head, tiny eyes and a mat of unkempt hair finished the monsters. The mouth, void of lips, salivated continuously.
The crabmen snatched at the air distractedly, unaware of the presence of the approaching crew.
“Ottavio and Lucas in position,” whispered Lucas, unhinging his pistol.
After a short while, Norbert called through, “We're in position, sir.”
“Sweet. Right-oh guys, hold tight,” said Simon, “I'll take out the one on the east, and then the two at the main gate. Nobody is to fire a weapon, eh? We're going to do this silently.”
Ottavio's heart rate started to climb as he watched Simon creep silently through over the fence and behind a crabman. It barely let out a scream before it crumpled to the floor.
The noise attracted the others by the gate.
“The other two are coming your way, sir,” warned Lucas.
Ottavio instinctively aimed his assault rifle. Lucas touched his shoulder and whispered, “No, these are Simon's.”
Ottavio lowered his gun.
Simon, like a leopard, moved to the edge of the building. Simon's blade severed the larynx of one before he ducked, twirled and rammed it home into the skull of the second. The two bodies crumpled to the floor uselessly in a pool of dark blood.
It was over in a second; at least, it would have been if Simon had not continued to desecrate the bodies. He hacked and sliced and sprayed juice all about. The macabre ritual went on, sickening those that watched.
“All targets have been neutralized, sir,” said Norbert cautiously.
Simon danced a little more and rammed his blade into what was left of a torso.
“Oh, yeah! Woo! Too easy,” he panted, smiling broadly and looking at his handiwork. Ottavio and Lucas scuttled over to join them, stepping gingerly over the pieces.
“Right, mates, move in and secure this building,” said a satisfied Simon, wiping the blood off his knife, “Damn, it's good to see some action again, even if it is just against some dirty crabs.”