by Ken Lozito
The Ark—humanity’s valiant effort to reach beyond the confines of our solar system to establish the first interstellar colony out among the stars. We’re now just weeks away from the Ark’s christening, Earth’s first interstellar colony ship will begin the longest journey ever embarked upon by mankind—a journey that began over a hundred years ago in 2105 when the star XPA6 was first observed among a group that held our best hope of an Earth-sized planet. Probes were sent out to see if any of these stars could support life as we experience it here on Earth. In 2182 we finally got our answer and the Ark program was born. Now, in 2217, three hundred thousand people will embark on a journey that will take eighty-four years to complete…
Connor stopped listening and glanced at the info-terminal beneath the wallscreen. The train was approaching their stop. “You have twenty-five seconds to get it fixed,” he whispered.
The boy returned with a teenage girl who was probably his older sister, followed by his parents. The boy was gesturing toward them.
Connor stopped himself from shaking his head. He hadn’t come all this way to be pestered by an overprivileged eleven-year-old brat. Connor faced them and put as much stern into his stance as he could while the others stood poised to knock out the family with stunners if they became a problem.
Just look away, kid, Connor pleaded in his mind.
The train came to a stop and Connor felt someone tap his shoulder.
“I’m feeling much better now. Thank you,” Samson said, but his voice sounded like that of a woman.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Connor replied.
The boy rubbed the back of his head as if he wasn’t quite sure what he’d seen while his father ushered him off the train. Connor motioned for his squad to wait a few seconds and then they exited the train as well.
“Commander, I bypassed a bad processor branch, but the hologram’s gonna overload it if we can’t find cover in a few minutes,” Reisman said.
“Understood,” Connor replied.
They quickly left the platform and headed toward a nearby service tunnel. His nav computer noted the change in their path and updated the time-to-destination on his helmet’s heads-up display.
With Reisman close behind, Samson went ahead to the maintenance tunnels, where they overrode the locking mechanism and went inside. They locked the door behind them and Connor hoped the unauthorized access hadn’t been detected. One by one they disengaged the holograms and their combat suits returned to a deep gunmetal-gray color.
Connor retrieved his M32 from his storage compartment and the others did the same. Now was the time for speed, so they blazed a path through the maintenance tunnels that were normally frequented by maintenance bots. The bots hardly registered that they were in the tunnel with them, most likely due to the bots’ rudimentary recognition systems determining the Ghosts’ combat suits were just more bots on maintenance duty.
The Syndicate’s stronghold was in the middle level of the station toward the interior. This was the part of the station that would be least vulnerable to attack. Connor had studied the station’s schematics and knew all the ins and outs for this section. He’d seen enough military installations to recognize the design, even with the lavish furnishings. According to the schematics, they were on the premises of a luxurious hotel.
They came to a stop outside a maintenance door. Connor was certain it was being monitored, so he gestured for Reisman.
The tech specialist moved forward. “Nothing to see here. Just another lowly maintenance bot trudging along,” Reisman muttered.
The door retracted into the ceiling, and the Ghosts went through to a nearby station where two guards were posted. The guards glanced over toward the open door, and when no maintenance bot came through, one of them went over to investigate.
The guard peered through the door and activated his comlink. “Central, we have a maintenance door open on Deck 19, but no bot has come through. Do you have any bots on sensors?”
The guard stepped through the doorway. The door shut, and he turned and banged at it from the other side.
Connor engaged the charge they’d placed and the banging stopped. The Ghosts then waited while the second guard came out of the station to investigate. As he stepped away, Connor fired a stunner dart into the guard’s exposed neck, the shock of which caused the guard to drop to the ground, unconscious.
“Station 19, do you copy?”
Connor glanced at Reisman, who nodded that he was okay to speak.
“We’re here, Central. That door is shut now and won’t open. We’ll need to schedule a repair crew to come check it out,” Connor said. The hacked signal disguised his voice based on the speech patterns recorded from when the guard had spoken earlier.
“Confirm. Repair crew will be sent out. Carry on.”
The comlink signal deactivated, and Connor looked at Reisman. “Good work,” he said and looked over at Kasey. “Any word from Bravo Squad?”
Kasey shook his head. “Negative, sir.”
“Alright, we go on. You’re cleared to only engage hostiles, so if you don’t see a weapon, we can’t use ours. Clear?” Connor said.
The squad replied that they understood.
“Okay, Samson, you’re on point with Jefferson and Oslo,” Connor said. “Reisman, you’re with me. Kasey, you’re with the others.”
Samson was six feet eight inches tall and a bear of man. Connor had seen him fire a T49 assault rifle in each hand while maintaining accuracy.
Samson led them forward, and Jefferson covered him. Oslo was just behind. The trio moved forward on point, and the rest of the squad followed in pairs. They left the maintenance tunnels behind and made their way through the lower levels of the hotel, stopping at a service elevator and waiting while Reisman overrode the controls so they could get to the sixtieth floor.
Reisman stopped what he was doing and looked at Connor. “Special access required, even to put in the floor number. If I override it, they’ll likely detect it.”
Connor’s brows pulled together in thought. “What about the fifty-ninth floor? Can you get us close?”
Reisman checked. “Ah, there it is. Fifty-eighth floor is still under construction.”
“Perfect,” Connor said.
Reisman punched in the new destination and the service elevator began its ascent. Connor would have preferred to break the squads up into six-man teams lest one of them got pinned down, but he chose speed over caution for this op. He checked the comms status for Bravo Squad, which was being led by Denton, but there was nothing. He had doubled up for this op, breaking their platoon into two squads. They had separate ships and approach vectors, but even with comms blackout there still should have been at least an encoded check-in. Connor frowned and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end—a feeling he’d get when an op was about to go south.
The service elevator stopped and the Ghosts readied their weapons. When the doors pulled apart, a dark, half-finished floor could be seen beyond. Samson checked his corner while Jefferson checked the other. Both men ducked out of the elevator with two more Ghosts behind them. The rest of them followed, and Connor scanned the area ahead. There were large stacks of construction materials amid offline machinery. Connor narrowed his gaze and switched to enhanced view, cycling through different bands until the area came alive with soldiers wearing combat suits just like theirs.
“Take cover!” Connor cried and lunged behind the nearest construction vehicle.
The rest of the Ghosts scattered toward cover as the Syndicate soldiers opened fire. The head of the Syndicate had known they were coming for them. This whole op had been a trap.
2
Blistering weapons fire tore into the machine Connor hid behind. The Ghosts were seasoned professionals who were at home on any battlefield, whether on a ship, on a space station, or in the jungles of South America. They spread out and took cover, returning fire while they evaluated the battlefield.
Connor set his ammo to frag grenades, stu
ck his M32 rifle around the corner, and saw where two enemy soldiers huddled behind a stack of metal beams. He angled the rifle up and his targeting computer identified the proper angle. Connor fired a grenade.
The Syndicate was down two soldiers.
Samson unleashed his T49 at full auto, and Jefferson did the same. Connor moved to the other end of the machinery he was using for cover, and Kasey came to his side. Across from them was a crane. He needed to get over to it so he could flank their attackers.
“I’ll cover you,” Kasey said and brought up his pulse rifle.
Connor sprinted across amidst a hailstorm of deadly fire from Syndicate mercenaries while Kasey provided covering fire as promised. Connor felt several shots glance off his armor as he slammed into the crane and circled around, flanking the four-man firing team that kept Kasey pinned. Connor aimed and fired his M32, taking out two Syndicate soldiers, then ducked back behind the crane as the remaining two soldiers fired their weapons at him and Kasey seized the opportunity to take them out.
Connor opened a storage compartment in the leg of his suit and pulled out two drone spheres, flinging them up into the air and activating them. The drones split apart. One zoomed directly over the enemy while the other went across the battlefield. The active drones sent data back to Connor’s combat suit.
“This was a trap, but I think we got here sooner than they expected,” Kasey said.
“We’ll continue to flank them and stay out of the choke points,” Connor said.
He sent his orders over the secure comlink and the Ghosts moved forward. The Syndicate soldiers were likely ex-military, and their tactics might have worked on a different platoon.
“Jefferson’s down,” Oslo shouted.
“I’m coming,” Malarkey said over the comlink.
Connor watched as his medic hugged the ground and crawled toward Jefferson. Samson bellowed as he provided covering fire. Connor and Kasey continued up the side, using massive metal girders for cover. They’d flanked the soldiers that had Samson and others pinned down, and the two groups ping-ponged the Syndicate soldiers. Agility was essential for blazing through the battlefield.
Malarkey opened a comlink to Connor. “Jefferson’s gone, sir. They hit him with something that ate through his armor—”
Malarkey stopped speaking and started screaming.
“Commander, Malarkey and Woods are down,” Sawyer said.
Connor swore, hating what he was about to do. “Bring out the NESS and avoid Malarkey and Woods.”
The nano-robotic explosive seeker swarm, NESS, was a last-resort weapon that could level the whole floor. Oslo pulled out a metal canister and keyed in the activation code on the panel, then hurled the canister past the Syndicate soldiers and tumbled away. A weaponized nano-robotic swarm burst from the canister.
“I’ve sent the clean-and-sweep protocol, sir,” Kasey said.
There was a bright flash, and the bodies of their fallen soldiers disintegrated. There could be no trace of the Ghosts having been here. Connor heard Samson growl as he kept firing his weapon at full auto. There were more reinforcements bolstering the Syndicate ranks.
“Damn it! Where is the NESS?” Connor demanded.
“Online now, sir. It’ll be in position in twenty seconds,” Tiegan replied.
The NESS interface came online, and as commanding officer, Connor had to be the one to authorize its use. But the Syndicate soldiers had stopped firing their weapons, so Connor brought up the drone feeds. A woman stood in the middle of an open area and stared defiantly at the drones.
Connor sent out the cease-fire signal to his team.
“The fabled Ghost Platoon. I must admit I’m impressed with your performance. You did much better than that other team,” the woman said.
Connor ignored the bait and stayed behind cover. “Then you know it’s hopeless. We’ve got you. The Syndicate is finished,” he said and peeked around the corner.
The woman looked to be in her mid-forties and wore a blue business suit, but due to the possibility of prolonging, there was no way for Connor to tell how old she was. She could have been anywhere from a hundred to two hundred years old, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear in her cold gaze hidden under a mask of amusement.
“Did you really think that if you came here and destroyed this place the Syndicate would just disappear? That I have no contingency plans?”
“I’d call it a good start. I’ll find whoever your successor is and take them out as well. You see, your operations at Sandy Springs got the attention of some pretty powerful people, and I’m authorized to take you out,” Connor said.
The minimum time required for the NESS to move the pieces into position was twenty seconds, but this conversation was allowing it to probe deeper into the structure of the building.
The woman smiled. “Tell me, Connor, which R&D company do you think came up with the NESS?”
Kasey glanced at him and Connor’s eyes widened. She knew his name.
“Are you saying you invented the NESS?” Connor asked.
He stayed focused but also kept wondering how the hell this bitch knew his name.
“Connor Gates, rank colonel, commanding officer of the Ghosts Special Forces Platoon in service of the North American Union Alliance. Believe me when I tell you that there isn’t a member of your platoon we don’t have detailed files on,” the woman said.
Connor took a shot, aiming a foot above the woman’s head. The woman’s form wavered for a moment and the hologram vanished. In her place was a large mech that dropped its stealth field.
“You know an awful lot about me,” Connor said.
“Indeed we do. You can call me RJ,” the same woman’s voice said from the mech’s speakers.
“Okay, RJ, you must know there’s no way you’re walking out of here alive,” Connor said.
RJ laughed. “You’ve been at a disadvantage since you started hunting the Syndicate because your small mind cannot grasp what the Syndicate actually is. We’re everywhere. There isn’t a part of your world that isn’t touched by us.”
“I think you have an over-bloated sense of self-worth, pretty common in megalomaniacs. I’ve taken a few down in my career, and I’m ready to add you to the list,” Connor said.
He brought the NESS interface up on his suit computers and was about to activate the device. The rest of the Ghosts continued to identify targets and escape routes.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” RJ said.
“You’re not me,” Connor replied.
“If you engage the NESS, you’ll destroy this entire station, not just this floor as you were expecting. I know the rules of engagement, Colonel, and your authorization to take me out doesn’t include the wholesale slaughter of millions of people,” RJ said.
The NESS they’d brought with them didn’t have anywhere near the ordnance to destroy the station.
“Some might consider the price worth it,” Connor bluffed.
“Your military record says otherwise.”
“If you were willing to destroy this station, you would have done it already, unless we really did catch you off guard and you’re stalling for time,” Connor said.
He opened up a comlink to Reisman. “Can you confirm what she’s saying?”
“I’ve been trying since she first mentioned it, sir. I’ve got nothing. The NESS has been deployed and has converged on the support structure of this floor.”
“Why don’t you come out from where you’re hiding?” RJ said. “I’ve ordered my forces not to fire on you.”
Connor shook his head. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.”
He checked the status of the other Ghosts. They’d all lined up shots on the large mech. If he gave the order, that mech would be taken out in seconds.
“You’re still trying to figure out whether I’m telling you the truth. I will admit you’ve been a thorn in my side for longer than most. I’ll tell you what. I know your tech specialist is trying to de
termine whether my threat to the station is real or not. I’ll save him the trouble,” RJ said.
Connor glanced over at Reisman and his eyes became as wide as saucers. “There’s a NESS deployed station wide. It’s on every level!”
Connor’s gut clenched. They were in a stalemate. His mind raced, trying to find some way he could achieve their objective and not lose the station. The NESS required specialized encrypted protocols that couldn’t be copied. Reisman was good, but no one could break it. RJ’s thumb was on the trigger to take out the entire station.
“We walk away and—” Connor began.
“Not quite as ruthless as your reputation says you are. You’re the first person in a hundred years to be in my presence and able to inflict physical harm, and the thought of killing millions of people shatters your resolve? This encounter hasn’t been as illuminating as I’d hoped it would be,” RJ said.
The large mech took several steps back.
“Why? Because I won’t play your game?” Connor asked.
The mech stopped. “You’ve been playing my game, Colonel, for the past five years. Granted, your presence here denotes a hole in our security that will soon be rectified.”
“Sir, the NESS field is being activated,” Reisman said.
“What are you doing! I already said I’d let you go,” Connor shouted.
He came out from cover and pointed his weapon at the head of the Syndicate. The mech kept moving backward and Connor fired his weapon. “Is that all this was? A way for you to test your security?”
“Goodbye, Colonel. We won’t be meeting again,” RJ said.
Syndicate troops resumed firing on them and Connor scrambled behind cover. He emptied his mag of frag grenades, laying fiery waste to the Syndicate troops, and then pulled back toward Reisman.
“Can you block the signal?” Connor asked.
Reisman shook his head. “According to this, the signal was sent before we even got to the station. It’s been on a timer . . .” His voice trailed off as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.