by Sarah Stone
“Speaking of which, how’s the food over there? It’s getting worse over here, supplies tightening up again, so if you can promise something decent, I might be able to get the cooks to consider defecting as well."
“Nibiru. Forget the food,” he laughed, let it transition into a smile. She couldn’t see it but he knew that she could tell it was there all the same. “I’m gonna need you to build something. You know what’s happening here. The longer the resistance remains defiant the more steeply the escalation of force. It won't be long before there are tanks in the street and villages getting bombed. Once a corporate winner is established, and it doesn't matter which one it is, the people of these islands are forever screwed. You've seen firsthand what it was like when they found veridium crystals in Australia. Now Sydney is an industrial wasteland and everyone there is either a wage slave or an off-grid nomad. We owe a debt for our part in the state of things, maybe this makes us even. Are you game?”
Hayden’s mere presence in the code made it easier for Nibiru to breathe. She was conscious of Qais and the other slingers still close by as they spoke, but she’d been biting her tongue for almost a week now and was growing tired of being careful.
She’d had little chance to do anything but the same frantic searching for the pulse that she and Hayden had been up to before he switched sides, and most of her work had consisted of slowing Americana’s progress as covertly as she could.
Even that hadn’t been an easy decision to make. Mitchell and Laine watched her every move and Overdog was breathing down her neck. She’d grown more and more certain that she’d made the wrong choice in not walking out of the black site with Hayden that day.
But of course, if she’d did that, Qais and the others may have already locked onto the pulse without her careful sabotage.
When did things get so complicated?
She was a good person, wasn't she?
Nibiru had repeated to herself over and over that this was the job. It wasn't personal, just a paycheck, and yet those words rang ever more hollow.
The plan she’d stapled together in a matter of minutes for Hayden was not a complex one, but it didn’t need to be. They wove the blackout.exe together, Hayden’s skill with code and Nibiru’s affinity for building something from nothing melding into one talent until the trap software was ready to close its jaws around anything that wandered into its domain. Her drones were already on the right path and it was just a matter of doing nothing as the drones crossed the tripwire and their progress forward was stopped as the .exe knocked them out of the sky.
At her chair in the operations center, Nibiru grinned. It would have, perhaps, called attention to her had anyone noticed the odd reaction to something going horribly wrong, but her chair faced the wall and the other slingers were just as immersed in the code as she was. With a final look at Hayden still flickering in the Code, she began to disconnect her jack and ease out.
“See you soon,” she said to herself.
The code faded, and the operations center began to fall back into place, her vision adjusting to the change gradually. She blinked her strained, watery eyes—her hours in the code had only grown longer these past few days—and lay her cables carefully on the desk in front of her.
At the opposite side of the room, beyond the partial partition, she could see Qais’s body begin to flex with movement, legs shifting as he followed her out.
It was Overdog who jumped on her first. “We’ve got no movement from half your drones. What happened in there?”
She did her best to look rattled. “They hit a blackout, somebody broadcasting a shutdown or an override signal over the wireless,” she explained. “The drones went in, didn’t come out, cut right through the onboard firewalls. The drones are stuck out there in real time. I didn't even see anything in the code. Nothing in MassNet. Our drones are just hovering in mid-air out there.”
“Shit,” Overdog cursed.
There was the shuffle of tired feet behind them. Qais had pulled himself from the throne to see the repercussions of the disaster with his own eyes. They were bloodshot as Nibiru’s, but MassNet ate energy faster, and he looked far closer to collapse than she had any right to. She was tired, eyes burning and fingers cramping, but her stores of energy were by no means depleted.
“Those onboard systems are still functional, but we're locked out, aren't we?” Overdog questioned, "Goddamn capture nets are all over this city."
“Maybe the other corporations got tired of the slinger versus slinger approach so they tried something else,” Nibiru admitted, turning her head to Qais as if for support. “You've hit what, four of them on MassNet in the last week? The drones will need to be extracted manually, the onboard systems disabled, and we’ve got to move fast before whoever set the net comes around to pick them up.”
Overdog was shaking his head. “You’re still on my shit list, Nibiru. I know you haven’t forgotten that.”
She tried her best to keep a sense of urgency in her voice and on her face. If they truly believed that she was fearful of the drones being captured, that her plan was the only way, she saw no way they would shoot her down.
“If anyone gets that information, they’ll be able to rule out every search pattern we’ve failed at so far. They’ll get the pulse before we even start the next search grid, and that’s if they don’t use the tech inside the drones as an entry point to our systems,” she said, putting every ounce of sincerity into it she had.
Qais shook his head, looking back at the throne, the invisible tether between them pulled taut. She’d scarcely seen the man out of it since Hayden left and he looked vaguely uncomfortable with his feet on solid ground with no code flashing beneath the soles of his shoes. “I thought the drones were programmed to destroy any backlogged information right after they uploaded to your deck.”
There was an edge of accusation in his tone and her tone went icy in response. “The drones are frozen, look at the data logs. As long as their systems are frozen, their upload process is basically paused."
"Which means their purge protocols are paused," said Overdog, finally realizing the severity of the issue. "So the boards won't melt themselves if someone tampers with it, they could get those boards to a clean room and extract everything on the drones."
“I built these, I know I can recover them without us having to just shoot them out of the sky," said Nibiru, "Bascilica is pissed off enough as it is with our lack of progress and that's mostly heat that lands on me. Please let me try to fix this."
The both of them looked at her, but she’d put a worried, if angry tremor into her voice for that last bit, and it seemed to do the trick. Overdog shuffled off to secure her transport in real time.
“Someone may come along to check their nets,” Overdog said as he walked away. "Qais get on overwatch."
Qais nodded, wished Nibiru luck, and used a cup of coffee to wash down a few balance pills to quell the mess his head must have been in. That was the dangerous thing about Qais, thought Nibiru. He was young enough that his body could handle the abuse that his work ethic forced on it. He was borderline obsessive when it came to his slinging, and in a man with that kind of skill and vitality was dangerous.
Overdog returned soon after he had stepped out to make the call, told her that her escort would be waiting near the exit. He apologized that Laine was on a mission against Asia Prime military operatives at this time, so the engineer would be escorted by standard security. Overdog assured her that she'd be taken care of, and Nibiru actually felt a little guilty that the old, former slinger appeared to care the way he did. She grabbed her rig, gave a wave to the few slingers not currently buried in code, and walked away, all the while thinking of the multitude of ways that she could screw this up.
The only real wrinkle in the plan was if they sent Laine 2.0 along as her escort. The alpha augmented killer would see through her lies in an instant.
The enhancements that kept her so far from human would easily pick up on telltale twitches of N
ibiru’s facial muscles, each hesitation of her vocal cords. She was indescribably grateful for the reprieve.
She rounded the last corner, on her way to see Thompson. She didn’t really know him, though she did know that he had been on the mission with Hayden, the one in the marketplace that had gone so haywire. He had a good record with the Union, though he was known to have no aversion to the messier jobs.
As she left with him, climbing into a car from which she might not emerge, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of ploy they had pulled before. Overdog had put on a good show of emotion, but maybe he was a better actor than she realized. Giving her a chance to run so that they could be sure of her loyalties. Thompson would wait patiently for his chance to put a bullet in her back if he didn’t think hauling her back to the HQ to be hollowed was worth the trouble.
As the car crossed the crowded mega-city, she tried her best to clamp down on the wild thoughts before they could make her panic.
The only one who had set anything up was Hayden, with Union Americana being none the wiser, and while she knew her part of the plan, Hayden's was his own.
Nibiru was not a bad liar, but she knew how to read people better than manipulate them. Overdog had been skeptical at first, sure, but the quickness with which he’d overrode her revoked travel privileges had all but proven that he’d swallowed the bait.
She could play her part. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”
The operative didn’t look amused. “You may be in a hurry, but this is still a covert operation despite all the street action lately. I’ll get you there.”
And he did.
He was so silent and generally unfriendly, hard, dark eyes that let no light in, that Nibiru had convinced herself, by the time they covered the first mile, that he was simply an uncaring professional bastard and had no nefarious agenda that concerned her.
At least not yet.
She had little doubt that, given the order, he would kill her in a second while she worked. It took a certain kind of person to be a Union para-military security operative, and he certainly fit the bill.
She fiddled with her HUD, tracking their progress to where Hayden had laid the real trap and wondering if it would spring with her still inside it. Wondered what direction he could come from, if she would see him before the operative did. She wanted to feel bad for putting Thompson in the middle of things, but that was unavoidable, and his hard edge helped soothe her conscience.
The car eased to a stop and the operative gave her a pointed look.
She breathed out a shaky sigh, fingers tight around the strap of her rig, and gave the operative a smile she hoped looked real.
Here we fucking go.
They moved into the building complex that she and Hayden had picked out, had set the false anti-drone signal to emanate from. It was tall for the area, several floors, and several buildings wide from outside, but inside, there was a bar and a dance-floor, both of which would be empty given the time of day.
Hayden must have gotten up very early this morning to have created the drone mimic; she laughed grimly to herself as they moved across the street and around to a side entrance.
Thompson used some hand-held device to unfasten the crude lock, then he entered the building with his weapon at the ready.
Nibiru waited for something spectacular to happen, an explosion, an array of gunfire echoing through the high-ceilinged room, but there was no noise save for the operative asking from inside when she was planning to get on with it.
She entered and tapped her temple, signaling she was still localizing the signal, then slowly, began to back away from the man as he walked closer to the center of the room.
She fingered the strap that her rig hung from. It weighed several pounds, and though it was currently in use she could throw it if she had too.
Nibiru didn't actually need her mobile rig to secure the drones, just the handheld control module, but Thompson didn't know enough about her job to know that she'd come loaded with superfluous tech. That should have been a red flag, but the man was security force, not tech staff, and as she swept her device back and forth, then signaled him deeper into the room, he did not seem to suspect a thing.
In a few more moments Thompson would realize she was stalling. The drones were frozen near the multi-tiered roof of the building, so she hoped that whatever Hayden was going to do, it would be soon.
She was figuring out the best trajectory from her rig's position to his head when footsteps sounded on the floor at her back. Light shifted as the opposite doorway was opened and a shadow crossed in front of it.
Not expecting opposition so quickly or in such small, quiet numbers, Thompson only slid his pistol back into its holster and filled his hands with the short barreled sub-machine gun he had slung on his shoulder. He made the movement fluidly, without panic or sound, and Nibiru began to worry that he would not back down when the time came.
Hayden stood at the far end of the room, close to the opposite door. Nibiru stood at the other end, with the operative stuck in the middle and a shadow behind her that she was afraid to turn and look at.
Her eyes wouldn’t leave Thompson. His cold, professional gaze seemed to pierce her and see through to the person standing in the doorway behind her.
It had to be one of the Akiaten, she thought, as Thompson seemed to ignore Hayden's presence, his eyes narrowing slightly as his fingers tightened around the grip and stock of the weapon.
Maybe she could look behind her, pretend she didn't know what was happening, maybe she’d have time, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the operative would shoot her if she moved.
She kept her eyes and her head locked forward.
And waited.
“We’re here for the drones,” Hayden said, then smiled. “And for her.”
A breath that sounded more like a growl forced its way from Thompson’s throat.
“Just for her?” he seethed, his eyes on Nibiru then.
Their gazes met and in his eyes, she could read the promise to ruin her plain as day. He wouldn’t even bother with hollowing her. He wanted to watch her blood leak out himself.
Hayden shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He stepped aside, indicating the doorway behind him with a sweep of his hand. “We don’t want to kill anybody today if that's okay with you, Thompson. So, if you don’t want to die, I suggest you take the out.”
He moved further away from the door as he spoke, making certain that he wouldn’t be close enough for the operative to easily attempt anything should he choose to take Hayden’s offered way out.
Nibiru, no matter which angle she looked at it from, couldn’t quite see why he wouldn’t.
To leave was to admit defeat, but it would also allow him the chance to report back to his superiors, to give them a shorter response time than they would have if Nibiru simply disappeared with no follow-up report. No context, either, which might lead them to believe that she had been captured rather than left willingly, even with her reputation for wavering loyalty growing.
Thompson was a mercenary, just like the rest of him, and the hope was that he'd prefer to survive long enough to spend his paycheck than die for it in some empty building thousands of miles from home.
The operative didn’t move in either direction, his gun unwavering even if it wasn't pointing directly at any single target. Behind her, Nibiru heard the shifting of armor, the creak of it moving to accommodate a new position assumed by whoever wore it, accompanied by a soft sound that made her think of the movement of a blade against a leather sheath.
“Go now,” Hayden reiterated, “Or we won’t have any choice.”
Thompson chuckled, the sound so low that it was barely perceptible in the large space.
Nibiru saw the gun shift, turn toward her as the operative squeezed the trigger, and she cursed.
This is it, you stupid girl.
Faster than anything she'd imagined possible the shadow at her back was suddenly in front of her, the armor
ed form shielding her from the hail of bullets as Thompson went for a full mag dump.
Her living shield had a hooded cloak or poncho of some kind, with black and red armor peeking through the shifting folds as he moved, his body going so fast, so fluid, that he was surely Akiaten. His arm was already rising in response to the gunfire.
She saw the flash of light catch on the knife's blade, the sunlight streaming in through the high windows that seemed better suited to showcase the moon. The knife flipped once as it flew across the room and there was a tiny part of her that feared for Hayden as she watched it move.
Betrayal could come from anyone. She was learning that.
Nibiru did not see the knife reach its target, as the armored warrior swept her off her feet with his other arm and drew her to his chest while he turned his back to the gun-wielding operative. The engineer felt the warrior's body shudder from the impact of several bullets, the armor seeming to deflect the projectiles, though the mesh did little to absorb the kinetic force of the rounds.
The warrior forced her down to her knees as he crouched over her, reducing the size of their collective target as the gunfire continued for a few more seconds. Then all was quiet, save the gurgling sound of Thompson's voice as it struggled to form words for a moment before going silent.
The warrior then released his hold on Nibiru and stood up as he stepped back. The last of the rounds that had embedded themselves in the folds of mesh armor clinking to the ground.
Nibiru turned and saw the masked warrior in the fullness of the light for the first time. The mask was such that it covered the entirety of his face, no mouth or eyes or distinguishing features. Tall, but not unusually wide through the shoulders.
The stranger headed for the body, bent to draw his blade from the neck of the corpse he’d just made before stripping Thompson of weapons and armor.
“I’m fine by the way,” she said to herself more than anyone. Then, to Hayden, who was moving across the room towards her with a deep look of concern on his face. Clearly, he'd been just as surprised by Thompson's reaction as she had been, only the warrior seemed to have anticipated the attack. “Who’s your friend?”