by James Walker
Falsrain's penetrating gaze did not leave Koga's face “And?” he prompted.
“I did some pattern matching with records of known SLIC soldiers,” Koga said. “There was a hit. There's a high probability we're dealing with Pierson Cutter's unit. We don't know much about him except that he's a former Voc mercenary turned SLIC officer, and he was the commanding officer of the rebel unit that carried out the Halispont—”
“I know who he is,” Falsrain said. “So it's not that the augments aren't functioning properly, but rather than the caliber of the enemy forces is simply that high. Is that what you're saying?”
“It's the conclusion the computer came to after analyzing the battle data from Port Osgow, sir.”
Falsrain considered this. “Then there's little point in reassigning this mission to someone else.”
Falsrain finally took his eyes off Koga's face and turned his attention to his console. He brought up the details of the pursuit team's report and skimmed through them. “We've whittled their numbers down to almost nothing,” he observed. “But it's meaningless if we don't get Charlie back. Ensign Taggart, do we have a map of Chalice's transcontinental tunnels in the ship's database?”
“I'll check, sir.” Taggart tapped away at his console. After several moments, he reported, “We do, but the records are badly out of date. There hasn't been any attempt to update them since stage three of the terraforming enabled unprotected surface habitation.”
“Good enough,” Falsrain said. “Where does the tunnel from Gemdrop lead?”
“The colonial capital, Hongpan. And from there the tunnels branch out to Artair, Cablan, and Haiching.”
Falsrain tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I'll send the dropships down to pick up the pursuit team.” He glanced up at Koga. “Commander, you're going with them.”
Koga registered surprise. “Sir?”
“We don't have enough forces to cover all exits from the tunnels,” Falsrain explained. “After picking up the pursuit team, the dropships will transfer them to Hongpan. You are to meet with the governor and request her cooperation. With the P.S.A.'s help, it's only a matter of time until the rebels are found. Then our team will move in and secure the target. Is that clear?”
Koga considered this. “Are you sure we should involve the local peacekeepers in this mission?”
“Do you have a better suggestion?” Falsrain asked mildly.
“No, sir.”
Falsrain's eyes flashed. “Then don't question my orders.” He returned his gaze to the front of the bridge. “Prep the dropships. The commander departs in twenty minutes.”
*
The rebels hid their armor and all of their weapons except those arms which could be easily concealed, stuffed some rations in their pockets, then returned to the transcontinental tunnel and proceeded on foot. They soon reached a mag car station like the one at Gemdrop, only much larger. The station was unlit, but there were signs of recent use. The rebels drew their sidearms and proceeded cautiously.
The station connected to a sprawling subterranean settlement. Unlike Gemdrop, Hongpan's Undercity showed no signs of organized habitation. The streets and tunnels lay abandoned, many structures breaking apart from decades of neglect. Occasionally, the rebels glimpsed flickering lights in the distance, but these always vanished within seconds.
“Not completely abandoned after all,” Eliot observed. “Hopefully the sources of those lights decide to keep hiding from us. I don't think I'd want to meet anyone that makes their home in this miserable pit.”
Vic silently agreed. He didn't like the feeling that unseen eyes might be watching them from the depths of the wrecked buildings leering down at them on all sides. He swept his light along the dilapidated walls, alert for any sign of movement.
The rebels made their way through the sprawling ruins with nothing but intuition to guide them. More than once, they came to a dead-end or concluded that they were going the wrong way and had to double back. From time to time they glimpsed distant lights or heard the fading echoes of footsteps not their own. Despite navigational setbacks and the uncomfortable feeling of being watched, they made steady progress, ascending several levels through the multi-layered city.
At last, they found faded signs pointing the way toward the surface, warning of radiation and toxic atmosphere that had ceased to pose a danger decades ago. The rebels passed through a nonfunctional decontamination chamber and emerged in an airlock. At the far side, a shaft of pale blue light illuminated an open elevator shaft. To the right, a stairwell led upward.
“Looks like the lift is out of order,” Pierson said. “Let's take the stairs.”
The rebels proceeded up the stairwell in single file. The stairs terminated at the interior of a warehouse, empty save for scattered garbage that hinted at occasional habitation. Omnipresent darkness indicated nighttime, although the artificial glow of an urban environment seeped through the windows.
“Looks like we made it.” Guntar turned to address the troops. “We'll move in separate groups of four to six, so as not to attract attention. We'll chain our transmitters together via low-power encrypted signals so that we can follow each other without needing to stay within line of sight. But remember, we can't spread out too much or we'll lose each other's signals. After the first group moves out, each successive group will wait three minutes before following. My group will take point.”
“Contact team, you're with me,” Pierson said. “We'll be going second.”
Vic joined Pierson, Esther, and Eliot. They waited three full minutes after Guntar took five soldiers and departed, then they left the warehouse through a side door, using Pierson's pocket com to track Guntar's group.
They emerged on a deserted street, populated only by old warehouses and industrial structures. To the left, a forest of skyscrapers rose to kiss the stars, their blazing lights illuminating the interior of a partially dismantled dome, the remains of a colossal structure that once enclosed the core of the city.
“That would be the Golden Ward,” Pierson said. “Home of the wealthy and powerful, closely monitored by P.S.A. drones. We'll want to stay far away from that.”
They set off in the opposite direction from the city core. As they left the disused industrial sector and entered a commercial district, both street and foot traffic picked up. Multi-story buildings rose over their heads and dozens of notices and advertisements flashed down at them from massive holographic displays. Vic had trained himself to tune out the constant bombardment of noise and color, but the screens got his attention when they all began to display the same broadcast in perfect sync.
“Breaking news,” the broadcast announced through a legion of loudspeakers. “Rumors of a terrorist attack on Port Osgow were confirmed earlier today when Governor Song made an announcement providing information about the attack and reassuring citizens that security is being tightened. For the benefit of those who missed the announcement, we will now replay the relevant parts from the governor's statement.”
The image shifted to Liumei Song, dressed as usual in the flowing finery of traditional Theran Eastern fashion. “I can confirm that rumors of a terrorist attack on Port Osgow are true,” she said in her lightly accented Forth. “Details are still coming into my office, but it appears that a SLIC cell attempted to smuggle some sort of weapon through port security. When they were caught, they opened fire on security personnel and a battle quickly spread throughout the port as security forces attempted to subdue them. Fortunately, thanks to the port's well-equipped emergency shelters and efforts by the security forces to minimize collateral damage, initial casualty estimates are low. Traffic through the port has been temporarily suspended, but is expected to resume by 40:00 tomorrow.
“Rest assured that all possible measures are being taken to ensure that such incidents are not repeated on the surface. The Peace and Security Agency has entered a state of high alert and is on the lookout for any movement by the insurgents. Please help us keep our world s
afe by notifying the proper authorities immediately if you notice any suspicious activity. As always, you have my personal gratitude for your understanding and cooperation.”
The broadcast concluded and the holographic displays resumed transmitting the usual frivolities. Vic dropped his gaze and returned to ignoring them almost before they resumed broadcasting.
“Those damn terrorists,” a passing pedestrian murmured. “Whatever happened to that great Pirate Hunter, Admiral Maximillian? He cleaned out the insurgents around Scepter in no time. If they'd just bring him out here to Chalice, he'd take care of SLIC.”
Admiral Maximillian—Vic thought he'd heard that name before. As he tried to remember, Eliot began muttering angrily, disrupting his train of thought.
“That Song chick sure is the perfect mouthpiece for the Union's bullshit,” he growled. “She'll spout any shameless lie they feed her while smiling and batting her eyes at the camera. 'Efforts to minimize collateral damage,' my ass. Some women are just born manipulators.”
Esther smirked at him. “Sounds like the bitter voice of experience.”
Eliot's expression was defensive. “Hey, what are you implying? That I let some two-faced chick jerk me around? Don't be ridiculous.”
“Whatever you say.” The smile left Esther's face. “Regardless, it seems to be working. Colonists' approval of the Theran government has skyrocketed since Ms. Song took office.”
“Just goes to show what kinds of idiots we're fighting for,” Eliot snorted.
“All right, keep it down,” Pierson hissed. “We're right in the middle of their territory. Anyone could be listening.”
*
Following the signal from Guntar's group took Vic and the others out of the commercial district into a dilapidated residential region. There was little sign of activity in this area, and the deeper they ventured into the district, the more litter accumulated in the streets and the buildings fell into disrepair. Eventually, they left the pervasive holoscreens behind, entering a sphere of watchful silence. Vic was grateful for the quiet, although he had an uneasy feeling that dangerous elements walked the seemingly deserted streets, just out of sight.
Following Guntar's signal eventually took them to the ruins of an apartment complex. Cracks in the walls combined with gaping windows to turn the structure into a grinning face. Pierson led the others to a door in the back, drew his concealed sidearm, and darted inside. The others followed close behind.
They entered a crumbling foyer where Guntar and his group were waiting. They relaxed and holstered their weapons.
“We did a quick check of the building,” Guntar said. “Doesn't look like it's been used in a long time. This should make a good temporary hideout.”
They waited for the other groups to arrive. Once all the remaining members of the Quicksilvers were assembled, they split up and made a thorough search of the apartment complex. Guntar stationed guards at each entrance and in rooms on the top floor with commanding views of the surrounding area.
Having searched their surroundings and established a thin layer of security, the rebels took the opportunity to get a brief rest. Vic was fortunate enough to have escaped guard duty, so he searched for a secluded chamber where he could be alone for a while. Finding one was not difficult; the complex was nothing but old, abandoned rooms.
Comfort proved to be a scarcer luxury than solitude. Without interior illumination, every room was a well of shadows. The complex had no electricity or running water, and it had been emptied of every item and piece of furniture. Even parts of the architecture like faucets and light fixtures had been removed.
Without his bedroll, Vic had no solution for the lack of furniture. He sat down on the cold, hard floor, dug a pack of rations out of his pocket, and devoured the contents. With nowhere to dispose of the wrapper, he tossed it to the center of the room, then sat down in a corner, leaned his head against the wall, and closed his eyes.
The lack of comfort and his own tension made sleep elusive. Vic made a fitful attempt to rest for he knew not how long, but finally he accepted the futility of the attempt and got wearily to his feet. He left the room and wandered through the dusky hallways, deep in thought. He turned a corner and ran into a broad, well-muscled chest. He looked up and recognized the scruffy face of Eliot Harper, his teammate in the contact group.
“Whoa, careful there,” Eliot said. “Well, if it isn't Vic.”
“Sorry about that,” Vic replied. “Your name was Eliot, right?”
“It still is, but that's Sergeant to you,” Eliot said.
“Oh, right. Sorry, Sergeant.”
Eliot grinned. “I'm just messing with you, kid. I don't care about the formalities. So what are you doing wandering around?”
“Couldn't sleep.”
“Me either.” Eliot stuck his hands in his pockets and looked around at the dilapidated surroundings. “The quality of these accommodations is outrageous. We should file a complaint.”
“I'll sign.” Vic briefly hesitated, then decided to take the opportunity to probe his companion for information. “By the way, Sergeant...”
Eliot looked down and arched his eyebrows in surprise at the intensity in Vic's gaze. “Yeah? What's up?”
“I still don't really know much about the rebellion,” Vic said. “About SLIC, I mean.”
“Why not?” Eliot asked. “Hasn't anyone given you the orientation video?”
“Yeah, but I still have a lot of questions,” Vic said. “For example, what are the colonies going to do after gaining independence?”
Eliot looked confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you have some kind of unified vision for the new government you'll establish after the Theran Union is gone?”
“I'm not sure. That's a little over the head of a grunt like me, anyway.” Eliot grinned sheepishly. “Leave the heavy thinking to the big shots in charge, you know? Whatever we get, it's got to be better than the crap system the Union forces down our throats.”
“So it's up to the leaders,” Vic said. “Who's in charge, then? I know Colonel Artega and Major Cutter have command here, but the Quicksilvers are just one cell.”
“Well, the two biggest hotshots on Chalice are General Childers and General Demir,” Eliot explained. “Incidentally, General Childers is C.O. of the Greenwings, the group we're trying to meet up with. As for Demir, his outfit is the Rock Hammers. Never had much contact with them. They operate farther north of here. Heard some bad rumors about them. I guess Demir is pretty ruthless. He'll do anything to advance—it's how he's gotten as high up as he is.”
Vic frowned. “Then wouldn't it be a problem if someone like that dictated the peace that comes after the war?”
Eliot scratched at the side of his head. “Well, I guess so, now that you mention it. But don't worry about that. Almost everyone throws their support behind Childers, and that guy is a straight shooter. We'll be fine as long as we've got him to balance out Demir.”
“But what about popular support?” Vic pressed. “Among the colonists, Union loyalists have regained a majority in the years since Liumei Song took office. Won't that make it hard to form an effective government after the fighting is over?”
Eliot's expression grew irritated. “That's just because they're being deceived by the Union's media censorship.”
“I know that, but the fact remains that popular opinion isn't really on SLIC's side,” Vic said. “Rather than fighting against the Theran military, it seems like SLIC's time would be better spent orchestrating an information campaign so more people learn of the Union's abuses.”
“Well, obviously we do everything we can to fight the Union's information manipulation,” Eliot said. “But even once we get the people on our side, we'll still have to evict the Therans by force. It's not an either-or proposition. It's both-and.”
“Yeah, I see your point.” Vic put a hand to his chin, retreating even deeper into his own thoughts.
Eliot gave Vic a searching look. “Hey,�
� he ventured, “you're not having seconds thoughts about joining up with us, are you? I promise you, the tide will turn in our favor eventually, and life here will be better for everyone once we've won our freedom and—”
Before he could finish, a familiar voice interrupted the conversation. “Hey, you two. Major Cutter's back, and he wants the four of us to meet in the foyer.”
Vic and Eliot turned to see Esther approaching from the far end of the hallway.
“You say 'back,'” Vic said. “Where has he been?”
“I'm sure he'll explain,” Esther replied. “Come on.”
Vic and Eliot looked at each other. Eliot shrugged, then fell into step behind Esther. Vic followed the two of them to the foyer, where they found Pierson waiting. Several shopping bags lay on the floor at his feet.
“All right folks, we're on deck,” he said. “This place will do as a temporary shelter, but we're vulnerable the longer we stay here. We need to get in contact with the Greenwings. They've been in operation here for years, so they'll know all the ways of staying hidden.”
“If they're so good at hiding,” Vic asked, “how are we going to contact them?”
“There's a procedure for SLIC cells to contact each other in urban environments,” Pierson explained. “Each regional cell is supposed to have at least one agent active in the local cybersphere at all times. We'll enter the cybersphere and broadcast a special signal. The agent will be listening for the signal, so he'll come find us once he detects it. Once he locates you, he'll say a particular phrase so you know he's one of us.”
“What's the phrase?” Eliot asked.
“It's, 'Do you know why the ancient Therans revered Saris?' The correct response is, 'Because he overthrew the rule of the demon lords.' Lastly, the agent will reply, 'You know more about old myths than I thought.' Have you got all that?”
The others nodded. Vic asked, “With silence particles preventing wireless communication, how are we going to enter the cybersphere?”