by Chris Hechtl
Well, there were actually three things he thought with a slight frown, glancing over to the three Pawns with him. He didn't know them and didn't know if they'd hesitate or not. He had little knowledge of their training and was taking Knedson's word that they'd been trained and were ready. One or two had been a bit unsteady when they'd been briefed, and none of the Pawns had implants. They were relying on the chips embedded in their wrist devices to get them past security. A few of them also looked uncomfortable in their makeup. That was tough for them. They'd damn well better get over it, at least until they were on the station and secure enough to take it all out.
It was a gamble—thrilling, exciting and a gamble. One he intended to win or die trying at least.
<===@^{:::}{<
Every step had been planned for in the initial stages; they'd gotten enough data from Sharon and other contacts to plan for virtually every contingency. They only had to wing it later as long as everyone kept their cool. Jock felt the bump as the cargo shuttle docked. According to the plan, the ID chip in his wrist would get him through security. He hoped so. He wasn't sure how, something about cloning the chips and logging one in, then ghosting it out so someone else could log in with the same chip. He wasn't sure and obviously the techs involved weren't willing to share their secrets.
The boat bay wasn't very busy. He ducked his head as the others undogged the cargo pods, removed the straps, then got out of the way so he and Mo could power up the gravity push pull and get the first load off.
His back itched as they went through the scanner arcs embedded in the locks, but there were no alarms. He passed a bored security guard reading a tablet and then he was off into the interior of the station. His briefer had been right as long as he looked and played the part of someone who belonged there, they'd be fine.
The docks were practically a ghost town due to the holiday. Robot cleaners were puttering around with various tasks. There were a couple bored and sullen maintenance teams, but no one else of note Jock thought as he followed the map to their intended destination. That's good and bad; it meant they couldn't blend in with large groups easily. Once he got to the first stop, a storage locker, he went in. A guard was behind him, walking along. Through the open door, the guard saw a small group playing poker and snorted. Jock saw him out of the corner of his eye. The dog shook his head in amusement and then kept going.
“Not enough room,” Mo muttered, maneuvering the push pullout into the corridor.
“There is enough, just …,” Mister Blue moved in and moved the push pullout to one side. Miss White, the tech who had set them up with the chips and things on their wrists, caught Jock's wrist and jacked in.
“What …”
“I need to ghost you out of the system,” she said. She pulled the chip, handed it to the cyborg, and then he did something with it and then handed it to the scary guy with brown hair and black eyes. The guy took it and the others and walked out.
“Where …”
“Don't ask stupid questions, Mo,” Jock said in exasperation. He picked up a transparent mask and handed it to Mo and then put another in his pocket. Then he picked up the pieces of a pistol, a couple clips of ammunition and went over to start putting the thing together with a screwdriver and a lot of patience.
“Oh.”
“There aren't stupid questions. If you need help, better to ask than screw something up. But there is a time and place for questions,” Miss White said as one of the guys casually set down a quartet of aces and grinned at the groans of the other players. “Just stay cool, follow our lead, and do what you were told.”
“Okay.”
Jock looked over to the slip of a girl in the corner. He knew that Sharon would be there, but she was clearly nervous and unhappy about the situation. “I'm not sure about this,” the girl mumbled, rubbing her biceps as she hugged herself.
“Relax. It'll go smooth as long as you don't freak,” the woman with her said, waving a hand. “You play your part and we'll let Shren know. If you don't, he'll be pissed,” she warned. “You don't want that, right?”
The girl instantly shook her head, eyes wide in fright. “Okay then,” the woman said, nodding. “Why don't you relax? I'll brush your hair, and you can tell me about what else you do here.”
“But I already …,” the girl saw the stubborn look and ducked her head, biting her lip. “Okay,” she said meekly.
The other woman took out her brush and had the girl turn her back to her so she could brush the locks. “See? You need to be pretty for Shren.”
“Yes,” the girl said, head down.
Jock shook his head and looked away.
<===@^{:::}{<
Once the teams were all in place, they received the first go signal. That cooled the air with tension as the second phase started.
Twenty team members of Team Two, called Black Pawns for some reason were sent out from their jumping-off points. They were in groups of twos and were led by Siam Najid. They knew they were the distraction, that all they had to do was to set their charges or packages and then take the next shuttle down to the surface.
They had been briefed that the mission was terrorist in nature, that the plan was to get in and blow stuff up to disrupt the docks and make a statement. Some carried chips that they plugged in. The chips had viruses and Wi-Fi nodes built in. “This had better work,” Mister Gray murmured. “We're using the entire kit here. Everything we've got and then some. We won't be able to pull another job after this,” he said, monitoring the Black Pawn's progress as they spread out.
“All or nothing. All in, just like in the best poker games,” Mister Black said. “Those are the one you remember the best,” he said with a grin. “Win or lose.”
“Right. I'd rather win small then lose big in this case,” Mister Blue said.
“I'm not planning on loosing at all,” the team leader said. “Let's move to our jump-off points people,” he said over his shoulder to his crew.
The veterans nodded and immediately packed up. Quietly the others followed suit.
<===@^{:::}{<
Commander Vestri Sindri was unhappy about time off for Federation day but knew that the time off was necessary. Not only did his people deserve the time off for their herculean efforts, but they deserved to celebrate everything they'd achieved so far. The time to unwind was a pain, but he'd deal with it.
He hadn't like Admiral Irons' order to rotate everyone down and keep a skeleton watch. That meant just about everything had been shut down; even the damn robots had time off, if only to get some much overdue maintenance done. Not that a lot could be done since no one was around to do it.
It sucked. That was what he thought, but there was nothing he could do about it. The workers and crew would come back hung over, happy, but unfocused for the first day. It'd take nearly all week to whip them into shape.
He'd noticed they'd started to get sloppy and slip up on marks the closer they got to the holiday weekend. Fortunately, they didn't have many holidays. He made another mental note to ride Irons and anyone else who got their bright idea into celebrating another.
He'd heard stories of the time before the A.I. war when just about everything had a day. Some things had multiple holidays. Seriously annoying, they had to focus.
He shook his head. Well, he for one knew where his duty was. He'd cover for them and hit the beer when he was off shift.
But he was counting down the minutes until they could put all the pageantry and nonsense behind them and really buckle down and get back to work. They still had a war to win, and they were a long way from winning it.
<===@^{:::}{<
Sharon frowned. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she didn't like it. But she didn't want to disappoint Shren. She shivered a little. She also needed a hit of Bliss. They'd only given her a half dose the other day, and it'd already worn off. She was going to get the shakes soon.
Miss Red saw the girl's indecision and knew she needed to be distracted. “So, you and Shren. He sa
id you two will be together for three whole days. Wow,” she said.
“Yeah, I hope I can survive it,” Sharon giggled. “Last time I walked funny for days. The guy is hung like an ox and has incredible stamina!” she said shaking her head. She blushed, making Miss White and Miss Red giggle like school girls.
The guys ignored the byplay, just kept on mission.
“Well, as soon as we deliver the package, we'll leave, and you can go see Shren for your reward. I wonder if he's looking forward to it as much as you are? I know he's going to happy if we pull this off without any trouble,” Miss Red said.
“Kinda laying it on thick, isn't she?” Mo murmured to Jock in passing.
“The slip of a girl is getting the jitters. She's distracting her to get over her fear. Live with it,” Jock replied softly as he pushed the load of crates.
“Hey, where are you folks going with that?” an officer demanded.
“Parts for the bridge,” Mister Gray said smoothly, intersecting himself between the officer and the team to avoid unwanted bloodshed too early.
“Seems a bit off to be doing repair work and deliveries,” the officer said, shaking his head.
“We drew the short straw. I don't know what the others did. I swapped one too many shifts and well …” Mister Gray shrugged.
“I pissed a couple people off,” Jock admitted wryly. “Wish I hadn't, but it was funny at the time.”
“Oh,” the officer said.
“Chief Young, you are running late for the meeting,” a voice said from the overhead.
The officer looked up with a scowl then shrugged. “So I am. I'll be there in a minute,” he grumbled, moving out. He brushed past the group and kept moving on his way.
“Chief Young …,” Mister Gray murmured. He scanned the list of personnel in his implants then nodded. “I've got a face to go with the name. Chief engineer,” he murmured.
“Good to know,” Miss White agreed.
“He was our contact?” Sharon demanded.
“One of them. We're working for security on a drill. Just play along; we don't want them to realize the prank we're playing,” Miss White said over her shoulder to the girl in an ad lib.
“Oh,” the girl said. She suddenly nodded. “That makes more sense. I wish you'd told me earlier though,” she said nodding. “This way,” she said, indicating the path they were to follow.
<===@^{:::}{<
At T minus fifteen minutes, punk kids hired by Knedson started to flood the police, fire, and rescue lines on Antigua with calls of bomb threats against parades, schools, buildings, the spaceport, and the docks. They even set off some fireworks and left suspicious packages behind to get security to “treat them seriously.” Others set off low level viruses into the network, most of them homegrown to also cause havoc. Mister Black knew the timber of the voices and the sudden calling would look like a group prank and hopefully throw security off, not have them go to a heightened state of alert.
Unfortunately, they hadn't had time to set off the security deliberately well ahead of time to map and gauge their response times and actions as routine dictated. There just hadn't been enough time, and there was the very real chance that they'd tip the target off. Tip them off into changing their routine or add an additional unseen net to their security. It was bad enough that the damn A.I. were involved, watching everywhere.
<===@^{:::}{<
At T minus six minutes to go time, the team managed to make their stop at the broom closet. There were too many of them to fit inside, so they stashed most of the gear and Miss White and Mister Gray inside to work their magic with the computer terminal while the others took up stations around the area and looked as casual as they could.
Mister Black loitered near the open door. “SITREP,” he asked, bending over to scratch at his ankle then adjust the cufflink there.
“We've got the package in. Ready for delivery,” Miss White said as she finished checking her entry. She'd jacked in with the small computer strapped to her wrist like the one each of them had. She pulled her jack and then replaced it with the chip she'd reprogrammed on the fly for the job. “It'll trigger when the fire alarms go off.”
“That'll give us some cover. But it won't be long before they notice they have a cyber intrusion,” Mister Gray warned.
“How long?”
“With A.I.? Ten seconds is pushing it. Ten seconds is a lifetime,” the cyborg warned. Mister Black opened his mouth to protest but then closed it. There was no point; the deed was already done. Mister Gray shrugged.
“Phase Three. Time to board the ship,” Mister Black said simply. The others nodded, all but Sharon who was thoroughly confused.
<===@^{:::}{<
The Black Pawns had set up more than just virus chips with delayed triggers. They had carried trinary explosives with simple triggers. The chemical bombs were broken into three components, two of them easily and readily available on the station so they could pass through the explosive detectors. Four of the bombs were pure sodium coated in sugar in a water bottle. Once the sodium pills were inserted, the sugar would start to break down, acting as a fuse. These were placed in strategic places in the docks.
What the Black Pawns didn't know was that many of the bombs had hair triggers with no means to delay them. Even the slightest delay in placing them and getting clear had consequences as Siam Najid found out.
Mister Gray ducked his head and started to count down until one of the others poked him. “Right about ….” They felt a shudder as the most distant bombs went off. The explosions triggered the alarms and for the doors to seal, cutting off the bays to Bismark.
Klaxon alarms warbled throughout the station. The rumble and explosions made them rush the security at the lock. The lone marine there waved them in. “Get in!” the Veraxin said as the air began to be sucked out of the compartment.
He didn't notice the flick of a plastic blade from Miss Red until it was too late. His exposed neck was armored by his chitin at everywhere but the joints. With well-practiced ease, the woman got the blade into the joint under his head and severed his neck from his head. His body froze like a male praying mantis that had just mated, and then seemed to crumple before the vacuum sucked his head and body away from his post.
“We're in,” Miss Red said unnecessarily as she closed the hatch behind her and dogged it. She pulled out a pocket welder and tacked a few points around the hatch, then in the control mechanism to slow any pursuit down.
<===@^{:::}{<
Meanwhile, SAR and fire teams rushed to the scene along with dockside security. Damage control came online bringing with it the robots strategically placed in the area for such an event. But the computer viruses were triggered by the fire alarms. Some blocked the fire control efforts while others quickly disabled the data and comm systems of the docks, adding to the chaos.
<===@^{:::}{<
Vestri Sindri had just bedded down when the shit hit the fan. He woke, but it took him precious time for his mind to fully awaken and realize something was going on. He kicked off the blanket and stumbled out of bed. The blanket tangled around his legs, making him curse and trip until his outstretched hand caught himself. “What the hell's going on?” he demanded, looking up as he felt another shiver. “Are we under attack?”
When no one answered, he reached through his implants and found chaos. He got the gist of it quickly; something bad had happened in the docks near Bismark. Bad enough that the docks were shivering with explosions.
A small part of his mind considered that it might be sabotage or a pirate attack, but the thought was set aside for the moment. They had to get on top of the situation and fast.
<===@^{:::}{<
The explosions in the docks were the signal to Team One and hijackers to begin their opening moves. Team One was compromised of shooters who would sweep the ship. They would enter at the personnel boarding ramp.
“Usually we say gloves off, but in this case,” Mister Black said, “game on, gloves on. Suit up peopl
e,” he ordered. “No more muggle names. We're on the clock. Mission names from here on out.”
“Hot diggity,” Mister Blue, aka Rook One, said with a grin. Mo grinned as well. Jock just shook his head, pulled his black gloves out of his breast pocket and put them on. The name confusion would be a pain in the ass and might cost them some time and cause problems. But they were running the show; they supposedly knew what they were doing.
He did admit secretly that he wasn't happy with being tagged White Pawn Four. He'd played chess; he knew it meant he was just cannon fodder.
“Seal the seams. Get set people. Assemble your gear and lock and load,” Mister Black murmured, putting words to his own action as demonstration. “Rook One, take your team and go.” He frowned then pulled out his lead and plugged it into his jack. He now had access to their encrypted radio network through his implants.
“I'm on it,” Rook One said, waving his team forward. Two of the Knights and ten Pawns from Team Two moved out with him.
“King to Pawn One. Go. I say again, sweep is go.”
“Pawn One. Already moving,” Knedson replied before he severed the circuit. He had twenty-seven people including himself. They were to break up into five fire teams of five to six people with Knedson attached to one of them as an HQ and roving reserve force. They were going to be thin and lightly armed, but they'd have surprise on their side. As long as they moved fast, they'd get a lot done. They were supposed to tack weld doors shut as they went to cover their rears.
“You boys waiting for an engraved invitation?” Mister Black, aka King, said mildly, looking at Jock and Mo. “Time to man up.”
Jock and Mo were late as the other professionals had already followed the assassin's lead and began to suit up. “Get with the program or get left behind,” Miss Red growled.