Evyn smiled as Michelle shut the door to her office. Fleet Admiral Frasier had just been reinstated into his old position despite the disgrace of his resignation just three months prior. This was in large part due to the low numbers of capable ranking officers in the Armed Forces after five years of fighting. The Queen had personally requested he return and make make himself useful. His return, and the brash new policies he was putting into place had left the Admiralty in a state of disarray and a cloud of confusion hanging over the Armed Forces. But it wasn't the state of the Admiralty which amused her, even though it was as fortunate a turn of events as she could ask for.
Rather, it was the introduction of a new personality into the once tight-knit Admiralty corps that had her attention. Michelle Garibaldi had been a high-ranking Intelligence officer before being recently promoted to Admiral in the latest round of sweeping reforms intended to revitalize the Bretonian war effort. Evyn had been regularly tutoring her as to the current state of affairs in the war, as well as the diplomatic and political climate Bretonia was in. It was no short task.
Garibaldi had been originally assigned as a member of her staff, supposedly during one of Bretonia's many manpower reshuffles. The truth, however, was far more interesting, and gave Evyn the chance to have a bit of fun. Garibaldi had been assigned to her staff under an Intelligence project to keep Evyn under surveillance. Unfortunately for Ms. Garibaldi, the directors in the BIS hadn't given her full access to the scant information on her still retained by the agency. Garibaldi was being told to catch a mouse she didn't know existed in a room with no light. It was rather silly of Intelligence to assume she didn't still have methods of access into classified files and information. When a puppeteer tugs enough strings for long enough, the puppet is going to learn his habits and his methods.
She fished out the small crucifix hanging from the necklace she wore. With her induction into the noble cast of Bretonia, she had been expected to follow the traditions of the royal family in being a follower of the Church of England. Despite the name of the country since its arrival in Sirius, the royal Church never abandoned its original name, and remained one of the rare holdovers from the world humans had abandoned. The crucifix was not just a decorative piece of metal, as many people wore. It was actually a disguised datadisc. One that likely held more information on her than the central databases of the Bretonian Intelligence Service.
She twirled it through her fingers as she spun the plan through her head again. This small piece of hardware would play a central part in its conclusion. All of the information on her since the Spring of 817 A.S. and her first step into Bretonia since the ill-faited attempt on Admiral Nelles' life...
It was rare for the sun to shine in New London's capital. The event was usually marked by celebration as the population rushed into the surrounding country and wilderness to enjoy a day without the constant rain that plagued the birthplace of Bretonia. It was shining now, and now a single drop of rain or cloud in sight. But it wasn't the rain that had dampened the mood of the city's residents. Another storm altogether had conspired to strike their spirits. The last week had brought the Kusari Navy's enormously successful push into the Leeds system, the first real loss of Bretonian territory they had ever experienced. A nation that successfully repelled the Nomad-controlled and enhanced Rheinland armada of the centennial war had finally been forced to take a step back by the Kusarians. The loss of Bretonia's purity and the accompanying maiming of a decorated Fleet Admiral, Percy Nelles, in the same battle had drained the last bit of cheer from a war-weary populace.
It had been five months since Evyn Hunter had last laid eyes upon the citadel at New London's heart. The name Bretonia still emblazoned boldly down the length of it, a daily reminder to the history of tyranny and death humanity had fled from in Sol. It had been a monument to their new chance at life, now it only served to remind them that humanity could never change its ways and never live free of war.
This thought was the first to run through her mind as she stepped foot on the landing pad, further eroding her own spirits from the already-dismal blackness that so well represented them. The only thing that motivated her to continue on was the cold and clinching anger and thirst for vengeance that griped her ever since the events on Malta. She waved to the pilot of the freighter that had delivered her, a Zoner from Freeport Ten heading to the Omegas, then approached the waiting customs officer and handed him her Armed Forces ID. At the sight of it he offered her a sympathetic smile, assuming of course, that she had been in Bretonia during the past two weeks' events.
However, when he slid the ID through the reader on his tablet, the smile turned into a frown, and a confused look spread across his face. "Uhh, Lieutenant Hunter?" She nodded. "I'm sorry, but there is a watch on your ID, I have to keep hold of you until someone from MI5 comes to get you." She nodded again, slightly confused herself, but keeping it from showing in her expression. Holding her she had expected. But she was expecting an arrest, not a simple requirement to wait to be "picked up." The only reason she could think of was that they wanted to keep what happened in November quiet. Not hard to understand considering the state of morale in Bretonia.
The officer seated her in a waiting room in the landing pad's adjoining customs building where he could watch her and still continue working people through customs. Neither of them had to wait long. Ten minutes into it, three men in dark colored military-esque uniforms into the room. Two of them immediately approached her while the third went to the customs officer and began speaking to him quietly. Of the two who came Evyn's way, one had his hand resting on the butt of a pistol while the other ordered her to her feet. The latter then grasped her arm and led her back out onto the landing pad, the two others following close behind. An unmarked aircar had been parked just outside the door. Never taking his hand from her arm, the agent opened the back door and pushed her into the car, following her in.
Once all three were in and it had begun taking off from the pad's surface, the men to both sides of her started moving in tandem, in a sequence that was obviously familiar. One plunged a needle into her arm, pumping a clear liquid into the vein, while the other unfurled a black cloth bag. It went over her head as the tingling sensation spread into her chest.
Ancient stories say that looking into Medusa's eyes turns you into stone, and her hair writhes with the movement of a dozen snakes. A temptress and demon, she was thought of in equal parts awe and fear. Standing two hundred meters above the floor on a rickety catwalk might bring the petrification aspect of Medusa's story real. The mass of twisting cables covering it certainly resembled the iconic hair made of snakes. But it wasn't awe, or fear, that Evyn felt as she gazed on the bloated metal construct bearing her name. It was a seething rage that rose in her.
The hundred-meter diameter sphere suspended in the center of the BIS facility was the culmination of years of Bretonian Intelligence technological and counter-intelligence effort. The Medusa Project, aptly named for the remarkable physical resemblance the massive supercomputer had to the mythical creature, was the epitome of surveillance and intelligence capability. The project had been one of the best kept secrets in Bretonia.
It had taken her years to find the location of the facility, and she had spent the last nine months getting access inside. The last two of which had been spent in intensive preparation and infiltration. She had been "missing" for those two months, and the news networks were abuzz with rumors about her disappearance combined with the recent row she had had with newly-returned Fleet Admiral Frasier.
Obviously, she was not at the facility under the identity of Evyn Hunter, Admiral of the Armed Forces. Instead she had assumed the role of a scientist, a technical analyst assigned to the project to assist in final checks and the first live tests of the system. She had taken to her role in earnest, not only to keep cover, but to collect as much data on Medusa as possible.
It was vital to her that this project were never recreated - and that she punish its creators in the way it'd hurt the most.
The blaring of sirens and the flashing of red lights jolted her from her thoughts. For a few seconds, she panicked, the sudden sound surprising her, before getting control of herself. This was planned, everything was prepared. She rushed off the catwalk and took the lift back to the ground floor, covered in as many serpents as Medusa's head. She picked her way across the chamber to the single entrance, and exit, where she joined the throng of scientists being herded out. Once outside, half of the scientists were taken away, still flanked by guards, to be taken out a separate exit from the facility to a secure location. All procedure.
She was left with three scientists, two men, herself, and another woman. Evyn moved closer to her as the entire group went down a second corridor. The woman was the chief security technician for Medusa, responsible for developing the software protocols protecting the computer's systems, and had been doing so for six years. Following the project's secrecy guidelines, she had also been assigned to design the facility's security system. From the viewpoint of the BIS Directorship, less people meant better secrecy, and it had proven to be an astonishingly good policy.
Fortunately, it also meant that a single woman held the keys to Medusa and the facility that held it.
As the group arrived at the door to the second escape tunnel, Evyn stiffened. This would be the first obstacle to her plan. She stood just inches from Kathryn, the security technician, as one of the guards tried to unlock the door. The four scientists, herself included, were huddled against the wall with two guards shielding them as they covered the corridor they had come through. The third was at the door, and the last, the commander, was standing with the scientists, coordinating the facility's security teams via a headset.
Finally the third guard made the announcement she was waiting for. "The door is locked, the access codes are being rejected." This marked the first stage of her plan. She glanced at the guard commander as he stepped towards the door. He returned her glance and nodded, almost imperceptibly. For just a moment everyone around them was looking away, the scientists towards the door, the guards down the corridor. They had only seconds in their window to act. She stepped right up behind Kathryn, covering her mouth with one hand and wrapping her other around the woman's abdomen as she dragged the woman to the floor. As she did, she clinched her eyes as tightly as possible.
Even with her eyes shut and her face buried into the crook of her arm, it didn't prevent the piercing blast of light from completely blinding her. She blindly struggled with the technician as the sound of bullets whizzed over her, keeping her pinned to the ground as she could only imagine what was happening around her. She felt very vulnerable.
It had only been about twenty seconds before her vision began to return, but it had felt like an hour. As the shock and blindness wore off, Kathryn began screaming and struggling even harder against her. Concerned that Shaw had not come to help her secure the woman, she shifted her hand to the woman's throat, and squeezed hard. Hard enough to hurt and cut off some breathing, but not to kill. A standard technique taught to soldiers to subdue a struggling opponent temporarily. She followed it with smacking the woman's head into the metal flooring. Her struggling ceased as she lay, wheezing and concussed, on the floor.
Evyn let go of her and pushed herself to her feet. She was surprised to find how dizzy she was, as her surroundings began to wave and roll. As the ground beneath her began to lean she slumped against the wall, clinging to it until the fit passed. She came back to full awareness and looked down the corridor. She saw both of the guards, face down, streams of blood trickling away from them. The other direction painted a very different picture. The third guard, who was at the door, had moved much quicker than anticipated. That guard had been part of the facility's more heavily armed security force, outfitted with the same armor and helmet that had protected Shaw from the flash.
Both men were holding tightly to the rifle between them, grappling for control of it. Meanwhile, the two scientists had regained their senses as well. The older one was at the door, madly pressing keys in an attempt to open it and get away. The other, a younger, intelligence-trained operative, had stumbled over to the rifle dropped by the last guard. His expression clearly showed he didn't know which of the soldiers was friend or foe and he hesitated, sweeping the gun from one to the other. From his position, he could see the soldiers but not her. Before he could choose a target, she ran at him, slamming her shoulder into his back as hard as she could. She didn't hold back, and fell with him to the floor, landing on top of him.
She couldn't hope to beat him in a wrestling match. He was as well trained as she, and considerably stronger. Lastly, he had the gun. That meant playing dirty. Reaching her hands around him, she began to claw at his eyes. Eventually one of her fingers found its target, and she felt a squishy substance only a moment before a scream and his arm jerked back on impulse, his elbow slamming into the side of her face. She was pumped so full of adrenaline that the blow barely slowed her down, the pain feeling like some distant throb of pressure. She grabbed at his arm, yanking it back with both hands, and dug one of her knees into his lower back when he tried to roll over. After she secured his right arm she began to smack his head into the floor. Doing it again, and again, and again, until he stopped moving.
Exhausted, she rolled off his back and half-walked, half-crawled to the rifle he had been holding. She sat herself upright, and carefully lined up her shot on the last guard, making sure not to hit Shaw as they scuffled. A final burst ended the struggle.