by Chris Hechtl
“You and your hints,” she said, giving off her version of a sigh. “Very well, Chief, dismissed.”
“Aye aye, ma'am,” the gorilla replied, coming to attention briefly before he walked off.
<===@^{:::}{<
Mister Black, aka King, didn't bother to nod to his fellow teammates as they gathered. Mister Brown and Miss White knew the routine; they'd take their parties to a couple of coffee shops to lay low while he and Miss Red started the ball rolling with establishing their local contacts.
A long time ago he'd been young and dumb enough to call his first team Baker's Dozen. Blake Baker shook his head at such youth. He'd even created a tag line and broadcast a victory over radio channels as a great big raspberry when they'd finished a job. That had advertised them, helped the team gain notoriety, but he'd quickly learned that it was a bad thing. Mister Brown had made it clear to him when he'd visited and then stayed on as his XO and chief of security. Nonentity was a gift to them, one best not squandered. Now like many of his teammates he thought of himself as his code name while in public or his handle when they were on the job.
Twelve human team members and one ace in the hole. He like each of his teammates had implants, though many of the older members had crude implants compared to their newest members.
They'd worked their way through the Pi sector, but when things had gotten a bit too hot, he'd been looking to pull up stakes and find a better hunting ground. Then they'd gotten word of all sorts of goings-on in their home sector. He'd convinced the others to fall back, and they'd resisted the urge to just steal their transportation all the way back.
Along the way they'd picked up all sorts of news. Stuff that had been seemingly impossible. When they'd hit Syntia's World seven months ago, they'd gotten a full download from the local contact there. It had been beyond the worst case scenario Horath's intelligence departments had ever envisioned.
Sure, they'd assumed somewhere that a remnant of the old Federation had still existed. Wherever possible they'd stomped out any sort of growth, any sort of return to the old democratic ways. Through hook or by crook, they'd done what needed to be done. Then this bastard … this traitor to their race had shown up in their own backyard. He'd somehow defied the odds and beaten off more than his fair share of fleets, turning many good Horathian ships to scrap. Some of those ships may have been jacked by Mister Black's team years ago. But … he shook his head.
It hadn't seemed possible, yet it was. It hadn't seemed like someone could come along and upset seven centuries of planning … and yet he had. The closer they'd gotten to Antigua, the grimmer the news was, at least for them.
Which was where he'd hatched a plan. It was scary stupid, but if it worked it wasn't stupid, right? It would be a blow, one that could be the death knell to the newborn Federation before it got its feet under it. At the least it would strike a blow for his cause.
Not that he was sure he believed in the cause that much anymore. The thrill of the hunt was upon him. He knew Mister Brown and Miss White would try to temper his eagerness, his zest, and that was fine. They served their purpose by being the voices of caution, the ones who pulled him back from the edge of a cliff he couldn't survive falling off.
But he also knew one couldn't take complete stock in one's fears. That sometimes you just had to get in and do the dance and take the risks. No risk, no reward, he thought.
He used the codes embedded in a chip to tell him what to say. A quick add in the personal columns of the three biggest papers would get things moving he thought. Though it might take a couple days to get a response.
Accordingly, he went and found a couple seedy motels near the spaceport, then rounded up his team. He handed off the keys to the hotel rooms to his two execs. They didn't need the usual cautionary word; they were all a bit cautious about being in the belly of the beast.
“We're set?” Miss White asked, eying him as she took the key and chain with the room number attached.
“We'll see,” he said. He'd used the papers to set out feelers to contact the Fifth Column groups on Antigua. Every planet known to Horath had them; Intelligence had seeded at least one team on each over the centuries. That team would then build up a network on the ground for people like him to tap when they needed the additional support.
To pull off what he had in mind he knew he'd need all the support and personnel he could get. His audacious plan to hit the Federation Navy hard and “where it hurts the most” was going to be breathtakingly ballsy. His finest and most likely final achievement since they'd have to sail their catch back to Horath or the nearest friendly base.
“You've got Temperance Row. Don't bollix it. Brown, you've got Chambers. There are some pimps there; some might be ours but be careful who you talk to,” he warned casually. He waited until a bug passed them and then looked significantly at Brown.
“Disgusting,” the assassin murmured.
“Put it away,” the team leader murmured, taking Miss White's cup and taking a sip. He grimaced; she liked her coffee entirely too sugary for his tastes. He shot her a glower and then set the cup down. She pushed it away from her. Now that it had graced his lips, she had no further interest in it.
“Fine,” the assassin sulked. They heard a soft snick. Most likely a knife, though it might have been his small pistol he kept up his left sleeve.
“Look at me,” Mister Black said. He locked eyes with the black-eyed assassin. “Now, look over my shoulder. See the things attached to the walls? Cameras. They are everywhere that new construction is. The common areas especially, but also the banks, spaceport, industrial centers, and the like. Antigua was an industrial world before it got bootstrapped to where it is now. We can't afford to make a scene. You were the one who lectured me on that. Don't blow it before the game has started,” he said.
“I won't lose my cool,” the assassin said.
“Better not,” Miss Red murmured. The red head shook her long curly locks out and then smiled as a human waitress curtseyed and put her order down. The woman smiled and then nibbled on the scone. “What? I was hungry!” she said as the waitress retreated.
Mister Black snorted.
“Stay frosty. Facial recognition might be used with the software. We're not in any databases yet as long as we keep our noses clean. Changing disguises will be important,” Mister Gray said. The others nodded or grunted. “Don't frack up my prosthetics. It took me a while to make them.”
“You've got the printer for that,” Miss White reminded him. He grimaced but then nodded in agreement.
Mister Black smiled slightly. His professional Horathian hijack team was the best. That wasn't ego speaking; it was fact. Each of the team members had implants and skills beyond the basic shooter set. They complimented each other's skill sets nicely with enough overlap to handle any unforeseen problems or complications. Mister Gray and his “partner” were a large reason why they were so successful at turning ships into pirate enclaves like clockwork. Not only did they both have the tools and skills needed to get the job done, but since they were sleepers, they also knew how to make the tools and old tricks and back doors that made their job stupid easy sometimes.
“The resolution on the cameras may not be all that great. They can do a lot with enhancement. I picked up some images of the hardware in the spaceport,” Mister Gray nattered on quietly. “We'll have to look it over carefully. Undoubtedly the stuff we'll be up against in the docks will be better. Military grade,” he said.
Miss White nodded.
The team lived in each other's pockets on various missions. Mister Black was aware that several of them had liaisons, but they had kept it strictly as casual sex, nothing long lasting. He liked it that way. The same for any dalliances with the local women.
“Don't go picking up anyone. We don't need the added complications. Go shopping, get the food, and check out the gear we'll need. Our credit situation I'll handle.”
“Or I'll handle,” Miss White said. “Get me in a bank, and I can hack it.”
“Or I can depending on their security,” Mister Gray said.
“You have other duties,” Mister Black said, touching his big luggage meaningfully. The thin man frowned then his eyes widened. “Yeah, let's do that soon,” he said, ready to get up.
“In a bit. Fuel up first. We may be busy soon enough,” the boss said, waving an expansive hand. Fuel up had many meanings beyond food and caffeine. It also meant soak in the ambiance and culture of the planet, their methods, and any means they used to speak with. Not that he thought that would be a problem. According to his intel, people were coming from all over to join this New Federation. They'd even had a couple eager beaver kids on the freighter that had brought them in. They'd been all set and eager to sign up with the navy.
<===@^{:::}{<
Mister Black set his duffel on the bed and then pulled his hefty bag into the room. Mister Gray anxiously hovered behind him. “Careful, don't jostle her,” the bone thin man said. He danced through the door before Mister Black could shut it. Mister Black sighed, palm on the door as Miss White hesitated. “Coming?”
“No, I'm good. She's going to be pissed anyway. Might as well let her vent on you two,” Miss White said, shaking her head. “I need to go check on the others anyway,” she said.
“Yeah, you do that,” Mister Black said as Mister Gray pounced on the bag and opened it.
“Careful,” Mister Gray said to himself. It was like he was defusing a bomb. Even the soft click of the latch when the door closed made him wince. “She's good. Yellow lights, she needs a recharge. But no red,” the thin man said.
“Good. Hook her up but keep her volume and power consumption down,” Mister Black ordered. “We'll need her online if we're going to do this right,” he said.
“Right,” Mister Gray said, flipping up the cover and hitting the start switch before his boss could stop him.
The box sputtered to life as fans spun up. He pulled out an extension cord out of a pocket then ran it to a wall outlet. They'd been fortunate to find a new motel near the spaceport, one that had power and even Wi-Fi. “Power is surprisingly good.” Mister Gray knelt and stuck his right index and middle finger over the outlet slots. He unlike the others was a sleeper. Emphasis on was. He'd been a ship thief long before any of the others had, well, all but Queen. He'd pissed some powerful people off due to some of his antics and had been sentenced to a stint in a cryo prison instead of being mind wiped, left to rot in a prison, or executed. All they'd really done was kick the can down the road. He'd been found by Horathian Intelligence and given the choice of signing up.
He'd seen an offer he couldn't refuse and had signed on to ply his trade.
“And I'm awake. What hovel have you woken me up in now? Wait, Antigua?” Queen said, projecting an image of a black woman in 1920s Earth era dress. “You are not serious!” the woman said scowling.
Stephanie St. Clair had been a ship thief. She liked to say that she'd also been a thief of hearts in her youth among other things. She'd been named after an ancient Terran Harlem gangster. Mister Black wasn't certain if that was true or not, nor did he care. She was his ace in the hole, the primary reason he was certain they could pull the job off.
The woman had been human over a thousand years ago. She'd died, and her brain had been sliced and encoded into a computer according to her last will. She, White, and Gray were his cybernetic team, though Mister Tan and Mister Blue also had comparable skills. But they also had skills in other things he needed.
“Yes we're on Antigua. Don't bitch.”
“I see I can't. You've got my volume down. Presumably so I can't scream bloody murder and alert the neighborhood,” the cybernetic woman said.
“Be nice,” Mister Gray said, attaching a converter device to the wall outlet and then to the extension cord. He ran it back to her.
“Shut it. If I wanted your opinion, I'd drag it out of you with a pair of pliers,” the woman said, turning to him. “You realize this is a bad deal, right? There is cybernetic security here, not to mention other A.I.”
“Have they noticed you?”
“Not yet. I'd like to keep it that way. So, how am I supposed to get what we need? Everything is firewalled I'm assuming.”
“That's going to be tricky,” Mister Black said. He was suddenly made aware that the target was a tough one, tougher than he'd assumed.
“What is the target?”
“Something big. Bigger than we'd ever done before. The biggest score we'll ever get,” Mister Gray said as he finished the connections. “We're going to need to get into the military net.”
“Shit,” Queen replied, checking the media feeds. She pulled up a bot, dusted off the script and then let it go as a spider to crawl through the web and get her what she wanted. It had a self-destruct so if anyone grabbed it the thing would self-destruct and not alert them to her.
“We're on the ground, not in space. Congratulations on getting past their security. Now... what is the target? And I presume you've got a plan?”
“The target is big. The plan is … let's call it a work in progress. But we've got a narrow window of opportunity I've identified,” Mister Black said. “A window when their defenses will be down, or at least lower than normal. The target will have a skeleton crew on board, the same for the docks.”
“You are presuming a lot,” Queen warned.
“Not when you look at how much they love Federation Day,” Mister Black said with a grin. “And wasn't it you who told me about how you ripped a few ships off in your time on a major holiday?”
The holographic avatar cocked her head and then sat on a virtual stool. She crossed her legs under her dress and then knitted her hands to rest on her propped up knee. “Do tell me more you wicked insane little man,” she said with a leer.
2
Two days later the team met for breakfast in the park. They each got something from a food vendor and then sat down in the picnic area to eat.
“How many local teams can we scare up?” Miss Red asked as she dusted off her fingers then picked up a linen napkin to finish the job. She had a sweet tooth for the easy energy. It was good in her case; she needed the extra energy the sugars gave her along with a very large dose of protein and exercise to keep her heavy worlder physic up. “We're going to need a lot more than us. I mean a small team has an easier chance of slipping in, but we're going to need to not only get in, but stay in, deal with anyone on the inside, and then break free,” she said.
“It looks like two,” Blake Baker, aka Mister Black, replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. He'd read the personal ads and the two “here I am messages” were definitely there, but that was all. He'd expected a lot more. Either the others were running dark or they'd been picked off.
Either way it didn't bode well for Horath long term or his mission in the short term. And if his mission was to be a success in the timetable he'd allotted for it to go down, he was going to burn at least one of them, possibly both. Burn them, their contacts, friends, and family. But it wasn't going to be his problem. Long term—someone in intelligence might be pissed, but they'd get over it when they saw the prize he'd brought in for the sacrifice.
“Two? With this sort of job? Are you serious?”
“That's it. We're lucky to get that many. Most aren't responding. They are either keeping a low profile, switched sides, or they are caught.”
“Great. So of the two teams, what's the head count?”
“Thirty give or take two or three. Some may hang back at the last minute.”
“Thirty. You want us to infiltrate a secure dockyard, infiltrate a ship, and then take her? With no intel, no plan, and no blueprints? With just thirty locals and us? And not just any ship but …”
“I want us to hit them hard—to let them and everyone know they've been hit. And besides, can you think of any other ship that can run the gauntlet? They've got defenses around the jump points. This ship will be able to weather them if we play our cards right.”
“And the ansible? They've got an ansible, so they can call ahead. Presumably to the forces in Protodon to lay a trap for us when we show up.”
Mister Black grimaced. Each of his teammates had a job to do scouting and prepping for the mission. Mister Brown provided overall security watch on them. The others had specialties and had to plan for them while also learning the other roles in case someone went down.
“If we go that route,” Mister Tan replied. He was their chief navigator and helmsman and third in command on the bridge of a ship due to his formidable ship handling skills. “Protodon has some serious defenses now as you mentioned. If we go to Triang, then we can swing up to Senka, and then into Pi sector or take the long chain to B95a3.”
“The long chain will let them cut in ahead of us.”
Miss White laughed. “What?” Mister Black demanded.
“You two are presuming a lot. We have to steal the damn ship first. One thing at a time,” she said, shaking her head.
Mister Black looked at Mister Tan sheepishly. Both stared at each other for a while, and then slowly nodded. “She's right.”
“Rare, but yeah, it happens,” Mister Tan replied with a slight smile.
“Hey!” Miss White protested indignantly, glaring at them. They grinned. “Very funny, ha ha,” she drawled in disgust.
“We do have one minor thing on our side, an “in” so to speak. Team One has a couple people working in space, and one of them got hired on as a janitor. She's even been on our primary target, though just to clear a spill up. We can use that. She's been gathering low level data for us. I assume they kept a log of some sort. Plus, she's got an ident implant. That means we can clone it and others.”
“Good. Yeah, get that data. We'll need it.”
<===@^{:::}{<
Yoshi shook his head as he contemplated the assignment. Roger's warning had done him good; he'd kept his business with Leopold strictly professional. It irked him a bit that the A.I. was his subordinate, if indirectly. He had to cut the A.I. a lot more slack than he would an organic.