The safehouse would have been called anything but by a more discerning team, but this team was professional, the best safehouse was one your opponents would not check. The concept of hiding in the last place one would look did not occur to them as that still left the possibility of being found. This safe house was perfect, not four doors down from an LPI blockhouse. They'd set up the anti-surveillance equipment and read the dossiers provided.
It was time to go to work.
"Nymph, find Maximillian Black, he's the architect who worked on this building in the first place I want to know everything he does. If he won't play ball with cash, extract that information with extreme prejudice."
One of the women, dark haired and slight of build, what most would have considered drop dead gorgeous in fact, stood up. Almost all of her gene structure was extensively tailored to be alluring; her pheromones were equally attractive to both sexes. Her body language and her poise, designed to give you all the invite needed to ask any question. She was a trained interrogator, seductress and torturer, everything required to find information from any human target. In other words, a first class bitch. Without a word she left the room, the dossier had included a last known address for Maximillian, this would be as good a place as any to start.
"Fastjack, get into the cortex, dig me out all information you can find on this facility, I want to know which companies service it, who delivers water to the water coolers, who cleans and who maintains the gardens. I want to know which branch of the Military runs security, I want everything."
The smaller man, blonde haired and blue eyed, almost innocent looking. Once again modified beyond human for quick and efficient data extraction from any system. There was not a firewall he could not hack, no system that was safe from his prying eyes, at least not one he'd found. Whilst small in stature this belied his ability to act when things got tough. No nerd this one, a fusion of combat and tech.
"Roger sir. I'll find me a trunk line I can access. Always gotta remember the first law of hacking. 'Thou shalt not hack over thine own lines.' Heading out."
The second woman, a lithe woman, athletic build, not exactly pretty, but then that wasn't her purpose, agility enhancements, increased bone strength, neural implants giving her grace and speed beyond what most could ever hope for. She was also an experienced counter security operative, trained to spot hidden cameras and override door locks. Above all else an intrusion specialist.
"What for me? Oh glorious leader?"
"Well, Silverfire, you're with me. We've got another place rented out, an office opposite from the service entrance of the facility. We have surveillance duties."
"Oh great. Fun, fun, fun. Well, suppose we better get to it then."
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
Nymph headed into town, the part of town she was headed for was a rich part, and the architecture alone lent an air of wealth and prominence to this sector of the great sprawl. Rent prices here bordered on the insane. Astronomical values that really pushed the point about the disparity in Liberty between the poor and the rich. Nymph hated it. It was all she despised and more, given the chance she would have levelled the lot. Just another example of Liberty's greed.
However she wasn't here for pleasantries, she was here for the job. Maximillian Black's offices were located in an ancient building nearly four centuries old. If they didn't represent the culture of greed, Nymph decided they might almost be pretty. As it was they stood for everything the Xenos detested.
She walked into the lobby, dressed as she was in expensive clothes now. She looked every bit the part of a wealthy woman. Walking up to the desk she put on her best smile, the smile to melt hearts and minds alike.
The desk clerk looked at her, she waited for him to finish, it was not like she was unused to this treatment after all.
"Can I help you ma'am?" He finally managed to get his words out.
Putting on her most silky voice, almost dripping sexual innuendo. She leant over the desk just far enough to tantalise the eyes.
"That depends," she purred, "On whether or not you can direct me to Max Black's offices."
The desk clerk made an audible gulp and without taking his eyes of her chest he stammered
"F...f...floor 41."
"Thank you." Nymph said abruptly. Standing up straight she turned back to the Clerk. "If I ever catch you looking at me like that again, I'll kill you. Understand?"
He nodded.
"Good." Walking over to the lift she allowed herself a small genuine smile.
The lift music was, as ever in these places, terrible. Horrible corporate nonsense almost like an advert for corporations. Once again Nymph decided it was detestable.
The lift pinged and the doors opened, showing her a hallway and opposite her the entrance to Maximillian Black and Associates. Once again she put on her best face, her sweetest smile, and the very best voice money could buy. She stepped through the door and up to the receptionist.
"Good morning, miss. How can I help?"
'Bitch.' Thought Nymph, but she contained her venom, at least outwardly.
"I would like to see Max; if I may I have a very interesting proposal for him."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but I assure you that Max will be very interested to hear this, and you wouldn't want to be the one who prevented him from accessing a potential goldmine, would you?" The question was put with all the sweetest Nymph could muster, which given her gene therapy was a lot more than this poor receptionist could take.
"Oh...no, of course not. Ill just make sure it's okay with him." It did not occur to the receptionist to even inquire as to Nymph's name, so off guard was she. She simply rang through and politely informed her boss that someone was here to see him.
Max Black stepped out of his office with a face like thunder, a tall lean man, dressed in a well tailored conservative suit. He looked every inch the businessman his reputation claimed him to be. As he walked into the reception area, he caught sight of Nymph and stopped for a few seconds, gathering his composure and all the charisma 30 years of trading favours and contracts had given him, he walked over to her.
"Greetings miss. What can I do for you?"
"Angelique Veron, Mr. Black. I have a very interesting proposal for you; perhaps we could discuss it in your office. Nymph smiled.
"Certainly, walk this way."
He walked her down a plush hallway, everything in this place cost more than her family on Pittsburgh had ever seen. She was going to enjoy every moment of this information gathering exercise.
As he walked her into his office, he moved over to his desk, motioning for her to sit down.
She did so. Making as much of a meal of it as possible whilst not attracting too much attention.
Max took it all in. Smiling he asked.
"So what is this proposal, my dear?"
Nymph reached into her bag and drew out a small gun like object; two darts graced its chambers.
"Do you know what this is Mr. Black?" he shook his head. "It's Cryer Pharmaceuticals XV-90 injector modified by the techs on Ouray to fire darts. Now before you reach for that panic button I'd like to inform you what is in these two darts. The first is a powerful truth serum; if I have to I will use it to get what I want. The second is a neurotoxin; its effects are undetectable on the human body. It will cause the heart to go into fatal cardiac arrest. Now you can give me the information I require or I can kill you and ensure I get the information anyway. So tell me what's it going to be?"
Max wiped sweat from his brow, he hoped the crazy bitch was bluffing but there was no way he was going to test her just in case her claims about Ouray were true, everyone knew the Xenos were mental.
"What do you want? I'm going to presume your name is not Angelique."
"I want the original plans for the Government Central Data Archive. I'm very certain you kept them, as are my informants. So do not try to pull any frakking crap with me."
Well that proved it, she was crazy. Obviously. It didn't matter if she had the plans, the Data archive was protected. Anything the Xenos might want had been under heavy security ever since the Lane Hackers had stolen the plans for the Spyglass. She could have them if it got her out of the office, and it wasn't like she'd ever leave the building.
He opened his terminal and found the data. Copying it on to a data crystal he handed it over to her.
"Thank you." She smiled and walked towards the door, at the last moment she turned around and fired the injector. The effects were near instantaneous. Black immediately began to suffer cardiac arrest. She walked over to his rapidly cooling corpse and withdrew the needle thin dart, ensuring it had left no marks in the process. Then she raised the alarm, slipping out in the confusion that it wrought.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
Fastjack sat in the public cortex access building, it annoyed him that hed had to pay to use the terminals, cortex access should be free to all, not cooped up in some capitalist monolith. Frankly hed rather have been doing this direct, jacking directly in to the cortex, not using some tortoise, but legwork needing doing first. He needed to find a way in so as not to raise the alarm before hed even started. Years of doing this had taught him that. The legwork saved lives.
He accessed the Data Archives public domain and looked at the information there, usual stuff but a few things to take back with him. He began to look at the source code, it was tough work to gain access to it, but the effort paid off. He found what he was looking for a minute flaw that would allow him access to the information he required. Tentatively he probed it, checking it for security features, anything that would give his game away. Surprisingly he found none, this was clearly an oversight but one he could use. It was time to do some real hacking. First, however, he would need somewhere to do it from.
After an hour of searching he found a place to access the cortex directly, a back alley. It had two inhabitants, sleeping beneath boxes. Most importantly it had a data line running down the external wall. Pulling out a pair of wire strippers from a small pouch at his waist, he set to work. First he stripped the insulation from the cable and then cut the wire beneath, reaching back into his pouch he pulled a small plastic device out and began to splice it into the cable. With that complete he rummaged around the alley for boxes with which to cover himself. Now came the important part, he reached back into the pouch and pulled out a wire with a plug at each end, one end was covered in a cellophane-like wrapper. He plugged the uncovered end into the device and then un-wrapped the other end, reaching round to the back of his neck he lifted a flap of skin away. He plugged the cable into an interface that connected to his nervous system; the interface featured a buffer that ensured his brain would not be hurt unless specifically attacked. The only way to defend against that was to ensure it didnt happen. Organising his active memory he loaded a number of programs into it. This would ensure they were readily available if needed. He was sure they would be. His preparations complete, he began his work.
The cortex appeared before him, electronic signals whizzing through the ether. Vast data trails criss-crossing a jet black backdrop. This was living, here his actions happened as he thought them, he didnt have to wait for synapses to communicate with neurons, with neurons to communicate the message to whatever part of his body was required, here it was just thought and effect.
He knew he was in the wrong local cortex grid, hell he was even in the wrong regional grid, which would have to be fixed first. He followed the data line to the local grid node, travelling faster than he could ever have walked, composed merely of electrical energy and light. His thought processes captured by the interface and converted into the most suitable vessel for this medium. He accessed the node and dialled the number for the RCG he needed. Instantly he was there. The cortex architecture here mirrored that of the real world, however here it was just data that composed the structures. It was not hard to find the building he was looking for, neither was it hard to find the data that represented the public access feeds. Finding his flaw he exploited it and gained entrance to the data beyond.
He followed the data trail to the nearest node, lightly secured it was easy to bypass, clearly unclassified and meant for low level employees. Browsing the data contained within it turned out to be a directory. It was very useful information to have. Especially as it allowed him to pick his next move carefully, he decided hed head for the security node that he would need for the actual run, he hoped this would contain the access codes required to maintain control of the security features required to remain undetected.
The node looked like any other within this construct, but the security was tighter, hed need a way past it and it would need to be quiet, he did not doubt that the system had noticed his intrusion by now, however the lack of a full alert status suggested it didnt quite know what to do with him, or whether he was actually a threat. Eventually that would change but there was no need to hasten that eventuality. Choosing his programs wisely he selected one that masked his presence, making it seem like he was just another data stream headed where it was meant to go. Once inside he browsed the node, looking for what he needed, 21 seconds in real time, what felt like an hour in here. He found it eventually downloading it directly into his memory. This would make the intrusions, this one and the real one, easier indeed. Exiting the node he chose his path to his next destination, Human Resources. Fastjack despised that term, as if people were just some commodity to be used up and discarded when finished with, but hed come to expect no less from the corporations.
Once again his path was blocked. The system would have detected his previous security bypass so that was out, and by now would have sent a probe to find out whether or not he was supposed to be here and not some Ageira corporate hacker testing security. He didnt have long, hot on the heels of that would be a trace countermeasure designed to find his location. He would have to deal with that one properly when the time came. He uploaded a simple program, with it he was able to sneak past the protocol and into the treasure trove within. However this program did not come without its disadvantages, it was not subtle. The system cancelled the probe and went to passive alert. Clearly this wasnt an employee per se, but it could still be a corporate sponsored hacker, so killing him was out until more data could be gathered. Just to be sure it scrambled all the data within a 10 second reach of that node. It bought itself more time to gather information.
Fastjack was annoyed, clearly this system was paranoid. Which meant it was semi-sentient at least, if it hadnt blown into a full AI by accident. If it was full AI he was in very deep trouble. As it was he was just in trouble. The entire node had been scrambled; meaning the data he needed could be anywhere. He could just download the lot but he doubted his headware memory could take that much data, and even if it could hed have to spend days sifting through it to find what he needed, days in real time. That would be almost terminally dull. Fastjack decided that it was better to sift now whilst the going was good rather than sift later when time might be short. The drawback was that he would not be able to stay one step ahead of the trace IC, which meant hed have to destroy it. He changed his programs and uploaded three attack programs into the active memory, at the same time he shifted all data downloaded so far into the storage portion of his headware. More room for more data. With that done he began to browse.
Sorting, sifting, browsing, all this took time, time Fastjack wasnt entirely sure he had. Precious seconds flowed past as he sought to recompile the data into something he could take with him, to find the pertinent data to the run. He began to panic, just a bit, but even that bit was too much. He stopped, took a deep mental breath more out of habit than necessity. It was at this point the trace found his cortex location. It had remained invisible blending into the background code until it was ready to strike; it was only because Fastjack had paused he was able to spot it in time. He launched an attack decompiling the trace as it leapt toward him. He knew know that the program would consider him hostile. If he hadnt been there would have been no need to destroy the program. This made his time short, and he still needed to erase the logs of the data downloaded. This was going to be close, very close indeed. He got back to work, sifting again. Another 20 seconds passed and he finally managed to compile the data he needed everything the boss had asked for and more. It was time to find the log files. Leaving the node he made for the data centre, a heavily secured node indeed even by the last ones standards. Fastjack didnt bother with subtlety, it was time for brute force and ignorance, the system knew he was here and knew where he was, it would take seconds for attack countermeasures to get here. Fastjack however had a few tricks up his sleeve yet. Smashing his way into the node he tripped every alarm going. The system was now on full active alert with all nodes going into lockdown, all systems were shutting down to ensure the threat could not steal anymore valuable data. This was fine by Fastjack he had what he needed, now he just needed to ensure they didnt know what he had. And he had just the tool for the job. Launching the last of his programs a custom made program designed to wipe data permanently from the node and every node within 4 connections. Anybody doing as he was right now would die. It didnt bother Fastjack; anybody doing what he was doing now was looking for him, probably with intent to cause serious mental damage. Frankly Fastjack liked his brain; he liked it rather a lot. He set the timer for two seconds and shut off the interface.
He vomited, a usual reaction when jacking out like that, however the nose bleed wasnt. He didnt have time to worry about that though. Chances were a trace had been launched anyway and the LPI were on their merry way to send him to Huntsville. He ripped the data-tap from the cable, detached the cable running to the interface. Dumping them back into the pouch, he stood up on shaky legs. Bracing himself against the wall he wiped the blood from his upper lip. It was time to leave.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
Silverfire was bored. Silverfire was, in fact, very bored. Surveillance was dull, incredibly dull, mind numbingly dull, so dull she was practically dying already and they hadnt even got into the building. So far all shed seen were guards changing shift, four every half an hour. They had been watching for three hours, so she had done some figures. Eight goons an hour for three hours worked out to be twenty-four goons changing shift so far, if that continued for twenty-four hours, and given they were only changing eight at a time, it was probable to assume that it was a twenty-four hour cycle, then that would mean one hundred and ninety-two goons were stationed off site. If this building was like the one they had hit on LA last month, which had guard quarters every fifty floors, it would have four such floors, presuming that the top guard floor was reserved for ubergoons that meant a potential ninety extra goons that had to be considered.
She turned away from the camera she had been watching and stood up, she walked over to where the Boss was sitting watching the screens that showed the same image as her camera.
"Um Tank. I was thinking about the goons. You know the ones coming in and out, so I did some figures, and I figured that there were potentially two hundred and eighty goons that we have to worry about so long as we dont have to go to the top fifty floors. If we do then theres three hundred goons including ubergoons. There are only four of us. Mathematically thats an unsound proposition if we have to start shooting. "
She was moving nervously every fibre of her being wanted to do something other than sit around. She hated Manhattan, so enclosed, so stifled. She would have preferred surveillance on Houston or LA where she could just run off all this energy, but she was stuck here in a crummy room, with Tank for company.
Tank didn't look up, "So? Whats your solution?"
Silverfire was momentarily confused. "Um I dont have one?"
"Then you weren't thinking you were worrying. Get back to the cam."
Silver fire trudged despondently toward the seat she had previously occupied. Before she sat down she turned back to Tank.
"Um... Why do I have to watch the cam if you're watching the screen that shows what the cam sees? I mean thats just a waste, isn't there somewhere I can break into?"
"No there isn't, and the reason I'm watching what you're watching is because I'm bored as well. In this instance its better if we have four eyes rather than none."
She sat down and began to think again, presuming that they didn't attract attention on the way up, and that they only attracted attention part way down she figure that they may only have to shoot their way past one hundred goons. If that was the case they had the heavy machine gun, although why it was called a machine gun she didn't know, it was pretty much a chain gun. Ageira should just have called it a chain gun instead of a heavy machine gun, but they hadn't, so a heavy machine gun it was. The HMG could account for thirty of them if Tank was using it, which he would be, so that left only seventy, they had SMGs which fixer had provided AP and Hi-Ex AP rounds for, and given that there were four of those that meant they could probably account for another fifty that left twenty. What to do with the twenty, well they could try the tried and tested method of punching but that would take time and could easily call down another fifty goons on top of them, but they had the snub pistols, those could take care of the last twenty they only needed to take out four each.
She stood up again.
"What now?" Tank asked with a sigh
"I've been thinking again, and I reckon if we do have to deal with goons we should shoot them." She smiled a self congratulatory smile.
"So if the shooting starts, we should shoot them? Thats your master plan? Go back to the cam."
She sat down once more, just as something interesting happened, well it wasn't as interesting as an explosion would have been or corp. sec goons running across the street to kick the door of this building in, but more interesting than watching goons come and go. A van had pulled into the buildings car park, well less of a van and more of a sled really
She zoomed the cam in to get a better look at the markings on its side and then she turned, once more, to Tank.
"See that? A sled or possibly a van. Markings suggest a gardening firm, here to trim the hedges and maintain the flowerbeds sort of thing."
"Yup, I see it. They waved it right through, must have known who it was."
"Yes, so it might be a way in, probably not probable but possible." She stopped. She had seen Fastjack walking up the road and he looked hurt. Before Tank could stop her she was already out the door.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
A week of surveillance had passed and now it was time to see what they had, Fastjack had set up the entire tech they would need to make this briefing as efficient as possible.
They were sat around a table that was almost transparent; cables ran from it to a monitor on the wall, and around that monitor Fastjack had set up a dizzying variety of tools and equipment. He had in fact emptied one entire crate of Fixers equipment just to set this meting up. Sometimes Tank hated him. When he was finally ready Fastjack turned and nodded to Tank.
Tank looked at his team, Nymph looking as cool as ever, Tank had read the obituary of Max Black, such a shame that an oppressor of the people had had such a massive coronary failure. Silverfire was sitting on a crate swinging her legs too and fro like a child waiting to go someplace. Fastjack was playing with his electronics the very embodiment of Cortex Geek. Well enough daydreaming, it was time to figure out how they were going to get this done.
"Nymph, you're up first. What did you get me?"
Nymph handed Fastjack a data crystal. "Plug that in. I got everything you asked for. Max played along nicely, and then the poor dear just couldn't take it anymore. Seems I got him all worked up over nothing." She smiled. She enjoyed her work, she enjoyed it a lot.
Fastjack plugged the crystal into one of his units and a holo of the architectural plans of the Archive sprouted from the table. Every corridor, every room, all glowing with a pale blue light. Fastjack looked at it.
"Okay, from what I found out in that system the room were looking for is on the 52nd floor. In order to get there well need to pass through twenty security checkpoints. All of them have scanners and all of them will pick up any weapons were carrying apart from the snub noses, as those weapons are ceramic. You gotta love the old SiN|Tech weapons catalogue. "
"Weapons wise all our gear breaks down into tools, or at least things that look like tools, including the HMG, SMGs have a set-up time of two minutes, and the HMG requires five." This was Tanks area of expertise, guns, demolitions; basically any way of making things die with the minimum of effort and the maximum visibility. Tank was not subtle. Tank was often referred to as Plan B. If it all went wrong, he was the man who dragged their asses out of the fire. On a good run he was never needed. Shots were never fired, it was in and out.
"I've set-up the explosives, all have remote detonators and all can be set for a timer. They are discreet, well as discreet as military grade explosives get."
Tank settled down again. It was getting near the time and they could all feel it, the legwork was done all they needed to do was put it all together and come up with a plan.
"Okay so whats our entrance strategy?"
Fastjack spoke again. "We've got three external companies that service this place, all local, all difficult to infiltrate at the source, the first is the gardening outfit we've seen three times this week, the Archive has living quarters for the folks who do the really top level stuff, so they also have arboretums so those folks can avoid getting too stressed out, this is the company that tends them. Its a family corp., just a tier 1 affair. Manhattan based. So not an appropriate target, they aren't a factor in Liberty's corruption, in fact I'd go so far as to say they are a prime example of what we are after, keeping the workers in Liberty. Even if I wanted to do them some damage, I'd say that this corp. is out on principle.
"The next corp. is an interesting one, took me a long time to find the info on the Cortex but it turns out to be a subsidiary corp. owned entirely, through ridiculous amounts of shell companies and other financial nonsense, by Bowex. However anyone from this company that goes into that archive is given a rigorous background check, its sourced out to some of the best corporate hackers so it's thorough. Theres no industrial espionage opportunity. Simply put we don't have three months to go through that, and I'm not sure I trust Fixers IDs to be that airtight.
So were left with one corporation, the local tech maintenance firm. A-Tech, at first glance its a tier 1 Liberty corporation, nice and simple. Dig deeper and you find that its run by Ageira, which makes sense. We can get to these guys but its tough work. Maintenance is done on the low security hosts once a week, A-Tech doesn't handle the higher level stuff, but thats okay because we aren't after that. Were after Gunboat specs. The fact is these guys are our only hope of getting in there without raising an alarm."
"So how do we get to them?" Silverfire was intrigued.
"Not easy but it can be done. The maintenance crew runs from a local building about 20 minutes from the Archive, theres four possible land routes between the two, and the crews choice is randomised the day before they go out, so as to minimise the possibility of them being intercepted. Simply put we need that route. We cant get in without it. The next maintenance is scheduled for this Wednesday which means the route will be generated on Tuesday, somebody needs to fetch it so we can intercept that team and get in that building."
Silverfire was getting even twitchier, rocking backwards and forwards in anticipation of what Tank would say next, she knew there was only one person who could get in and out undetected, and it was her. She decided she wasn't going to wait for Tank.
"I'll do it. I can get in there, and get out again. It'll be easy. I bet they haven't even got that great security, better to keep the illusion, but I bet they come down hard on folks they catch, so Ill have to make sure I don't get caught. But I can do it."
Tank smiled, her enthusiasm for the job could be annoying at times, but there wasn't anyone better.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
"How many guards on the Merrick?" Matthew Flax asked as they huddled in the mess hall, "does anyone know for certain"? The men were huddled around a long bench, leaning in and speaking quietly, in hushed tones. Each of them had been on board the Gunboat for stints of remedial incarceration, and each had had more than ample opportunity to gather more than enough information on the ship.
Adam was certain it was only four, one of the other men agreed; "A regular navy boat only has eight or ten crew; that things been stripped down, it cant be more then four, at most five."
"Definite information will come in from the outside", Adam interjected, "their figure will be inflated but if we plan for that then we will have no problem, the ship will not have more than they inform us."
Huntsville was a haven for Xeno recruitment; inmates would often go straight to the cause upon their release. And while it was rumoured there were Xeno operatives among the prison population, it was rare that prisoners made their break from the station itself.
This was going to be new.
"You were associated with the Xenos before you were brought on board", Adam said to Flax," Do you not know if there are operatives in the prison itself? It would make it easier to liaise directly, at least until the radio is more reliable". But Flax did not know. That kind of information was not shared out for obvious reasons, and while they were sure there must be operatives onboard for the moment, they were operating alone. So the plan was kept small, only a few close allies among Greerson's inner circles had a clue, and only the most senior knew their plans for the Merrick. The first step was knowing which guards were pliable, and which weren't.
That was not as difficult as it sounded; on one particular day, Adam got himself assigned to cleaning the landing area, the access point for Huntsville and not at all coincidentally where the Merrick was moored most of the time. On that particular day he was assigned loading duties; one of several prisoners loading moored freighters with the goods made by the inmates on the prison. There were usually two guards on each ships hold, a practice that was initiated as a measure of curbing corruption.
It didn't; guards often worked together, partnering up and splitting what they could get from the prisoners, or more often than not, people from outside the prison wanting to get things in.
The malleability of the LPI guards was crucial to the plan.
Adam watched and listened as the two guards nearest him slouched by the hatchway, guarding a ship was an easy job, you only had to make sure the prisoners that got on came off again. It was however a mindless task, allowing the officers a lot of time to reflect and to talk. These two guards were the same as every guard that was given such a mindless job, bored and restless, a combination that was infinitely flammable should the right spark be added. These particular guards though, had a slight but crucial difference to the other guards in the Huntsville docks: They had guard duty on the Merrick on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights.
"She wants the kitchen done, but cant make up her mind about how its supposed to go, I build one damned thing and she changes it."
"I hear you man, I went through the same thing last year, cost me 6 months pay just to get the building done, that was before I had to buy anything for it."
"You would think wearing the badge would cover that, but im only shaving 15% off what any guy on the street would pay."
Eavesdropping as he loaded goods on board the freighter, Adam noted each guard carefully, these were definitely the men they wanted.
"You know Rheinland wholesalers get 50% off their buy price right"?
One of the guards looked up, irritation plainly written on his chiseled features, "Who the hell asked you Greerson, shut the hell...." But the other guard slapped him on the shoulder, interrupting him. "Wait a minute Nate, hey... Greerson, you said 50%? How the hell do you know that? those discounts are never more than 30%!"
Still loading the boxes stacked by the ship Adam smiled, "I wasn't always locked up in here you know I was a dealer for a liberty trade firm, I dealt with Rheinlanders everyday."
The guard who had queried him looked perplexed, "50%?" he said to his colleague, "Thats off the cost of what this crap costs to buy, crap thats made here, sheesh, how much must they mark that up?"
"A lot", Adam added quickly, "don't ever go shopping in Rheinland, but you see why they always have credits to spend when they come through."
He could see the first guard mentally calculating the cost of his kitchen were he able to obtain a similarly discounted price, Adam could tell by his expression that the number crunching was hurting; from the actual process, or the result of it he did not know. But the pain on the guards face was exactly the expression he had hoped for.
"You can get it cheaper you know?" He said, dropping the statement like a stone into a millpond, waiting for the ripples to have their effect.
Both of the guards turned to him in the same moment: "How?" they said, almost in unison.
Adam smiled, only now pausing slightly from his loading duties. "Well, you don't think the warden pays full price? Or those guards up in manufacturing that are always taking vacations with Spa and Cruise?"
Now firmly holding their attention Adam continued - "those guys shop the smart way, they get the limbo stock."
"What the hells Limbo stock Greerson? What new bull**** is coming out of your mouth"? the first and definitely more oafish of the two guards snapped. Violence written across his face which Adam knew was never too far from a bored LPI guards mind.
Adam tread carefully, wanting the men to rope themselves into this so it seemed like their idea, he was concerned though that he had overestimated their intelligence and that he might have to spell it out
"Well, you see all that stock that comes back from dealers, for whatever reason? We load half as much off as we load on down here, you guys have noticed that right?"
He could see the wheels in the officers minds turning; he could almost hear the mice within, squeaking for cheese.
"Yeah" the second guard mused, "Yeah thats right, we send that down to ordering on the lower levels right, they resell it on from there."
Adam smiled and shook his head; thats right boys he thought, connect the dots...
The second guard creased his brow, "wait a minute, how much to we actually load here from ordering"?
"Er I dont know, I never read the manife...." He slapped his hand against his blaster, "Greerson, do something useful with that mouth of yours for once, whats on that manifest y'all got there, wheres it from"?
Grabbing the manifest quickly and pretending to be intimidated Adam answered "Er manufacturing" he said, adding; "they all come from manufacturing".
The guards were genuinely perplexed now; "Well, just a minute" the first one said, "I don't think Ive ever seen a manifest from ordering on here, never heard a driver saying hes had to take something to the same place twice neither!"
Adam smiled to himself, the display of intellectual Olympics happening before him was truly inspiring, he wondered if he should just cease the duplicity and ask the men if they could fly the Merrick out, they might agree.
Seeing the interest he had sparked he dropped his final nugget. "The stuff that comes in on a Friday afternoon isn't added back to stock until Monday morning, I heard the warden can be found down there after shift finish on Fridays, but I also heard that the manufacturing guys go down there on Saturday nights. Anything going out the door then would never be noticed, must be foolproof as everyone thats in the know is doing it."
The two guards looked at each other the same plan crossing both their minds at the same time. The oafish one turned on him suddenly, "Yeah well get back to it Greerson, not like you scumbags can help us out."
Adam lifted another crate onto the ship, the guards turning away and moving off conspiratorially. As they did so, Adam overheard a few words; "Saturday nights, it would be easy, no ones on the Merrick, prisoners in lock down."
Poetry Adam thought, pure poetry, they would go on a Saturday night.
The Next step was obtaining valid access codes for Huntsville's docking bay doors. These were not known among the prisoners and even the guards. Indeed the only persons on board who could recite them if asked were probably the warden himself and the department heads with finally the officers on duty in docking control being the other only likely candidates.
How to get them?
A low level tech from maintenance by an unwitting gaff gave them the solution. Whilst performing maintenance on the prisons library system he had jibed Matthew Flax as he sat at a computer.
"What you studyin fer?" he had asked Flax as he reset the terminal beside where the man was seated, "Its not like you boys need brains in here". Flax eyed him contemptuously, "I do have a brain, and unlike you people, I like to keep it working."
The tech snorted, "You keep it working as long as we let you" he said, "You cant see anything on that there machine without my say so, and anything you try to get off station is blocked and we log the attempts, then we trace it right back to you. Ever wondered how we knows what your pal Greerson is reading"?
The tech held up a small data pad with several connections on its base.
"Whats that"? Flax asked. The tech smiled with smug self satisfaction, "this little thing" - he said waving it in Flaxs face before tossing it back in his work bag - "Logs every thing done on anyone of these machines, I hook it in, and I know everything your little brain has tried to do, read, type up, you name it, you don't jump in here Flax without me knowin'".
A data miner. More specifically, a Data logging pad. Flax saw the solution to their docking door problem right before his eyes. As the tech worked beside him, he signaled one of his men on the other side of the bay, the wanted the tech distracted.
There was a flash and a snap, someone on the other side of the room cursed, "Stupid machine"! and hit the terminal in front of him with a loud bang.
The tech snapped up, "Hey"! he shouted, "What the hell do you think yer doin"? he darted across the room to the offending prisoner who was protesting the unreliability of the terminal he had just shorted out. With the tech suitably distracted, Flax reached into his bag and removed the Data Miner, tucking it into the small of his back held by his waist belt
.
Prisoners were not allowed in secure locations without guards. But prisoners were routinely sent to clean the non secure areas, one such area was room 27 in section D. Room 27 section D held clothing lockers, but behind one such locker, Locker 3 to be exact was a communications maintenance hatch used by techs to position and locate faults, check memory modules and to gain access to the comm line running through that part of the station.
One of the comm lines however, lead directly from docking control to the docking bay doors' control computer. Room 27 section D's small maintenance hatch had very little in terms of interface, allowing diagnostic tools only, diagnostic tools such as a Data mining Pad..
By the time the tech had realized that the pad was missing, the maintenance terminal in Room 27 section D had already given Adam and his men codes to the station doors. The tech didn't report its loss, knowing that if he did his superiors would find out he routinely used it to read his superiors private mail.
Adam would often say to his followers that any plan, no matter how well conceived and prepared for, was nevertheless still subject to random chance, coincidence and luck.
Matthew Flax discovering a way to access the door codes was one stroke of luck, discovering the general door control and lock down command codes for the station hidden among the tech managers private emails stored on the Data miner was another.
It hadn't been part of the plan, but having those codes now gave the planners a means of access and escape to any part of the station. Moreover, should they need to; they had the codes to lock down any part of the station as well.
Creeping quietly, not so quiet that she could not be heard, but simply moving quietly as the passing breeze, Silverfire crept toward her target. She had identified an entrance, well Fastjack had. Hed been able to do all the legwork through the Cortex.
The building was a two story warehouse affair with a large service door at the front and a second, smaller personnel door on the left side of the building. Neither of these were Silverfires entrance points. She was going in through the vents. A-Tech had not got around to installing piped vents, despite them being a common feature on most corporate facilities; Silverfire assumed that this was to maintain the illusion that A-Tech was a small firm, rather than a part of an interplanetary megacorporation.
Her first hurdle however was getting on to the roof, the A-tech facility as located in a small patch of open ground, fully thirty feet from the nearest building. Jumping was possible but a quiet landing would be next to impossible to guarantee. Quiet was the watchword here, if she aroused any alarms shed need to cause a distraction to prevent them realising her true goal, and she did not want to have to waste time on that.
She had however checked out the building to the rear of the facility which backed onto the compound it was secured but it could be scaled, and right now, that was what she was doing.
Climbing down the wall she eventually came to the bottom. Unseen and unheard she began to tread the ground ahead of here looking for the point she would scale the wall onto the roof of the warehouse. She found it easily enough a place where the windows aligned and she would be able to make the climb without issue, it was close to the vent she need to infiltrate which was also useful.
Once upon the roof she walked lightly to the vent and began the slow process of climbing down the vent. However one thing she had not counted on was the systems age, clearly it had not been serviced in some time and she began to wonder if Fastjacks information had been right. Every movement caused the system to creak a little and she wondered if it would hold her weight when the only thing keeping it up was the brackets attached to the ceiling. She decided that instead of climbing her way to the room she would have to exit early and find another method of getting there, equally she would need another exit strategy.
Her exit cam soon enough, she found a grating into a supply room and used it to enable her to actually stretch, any amount of time crawling through ducting was too much time crawling through ducting. She moved to the door and looked through its rather grubby window, seeing no-one outside she carefully opened the door and began the trek to the systems room.
She had to avoid a few people on the way but they were not looking for anyone and did not seem to spot her, nonetheless she continued as if passive alerts were in place.
It seemed to take forever, but here, in her element, Silverfire hardly noticed the time ticking by, for once her mind calm and serene rather than racing at one hundred miles an hour.
She found her way to the car pool, the room she required was off this one secured with a simple key lock, and she had the necessary tools to bypass it without it registering that fact. Checking for people she spotted none, late at night it was unlikely anyone was being too attentive to any tasks at hand she had only to hope that there was equally no presence in the systems room. She was in luck. She began to wonder if this whole endeavour was blessed in someway, whilst she did not doubt the talent involved, it was beginning to surprise her just how easy it was to access this supposedly secure archive, even if they were only going for specs of a system that was being phased out anyway. Pushing the thought aside she made her way to the room and went inside. Finding the required terminal was not hard, and she placed a device which Fastjack had given her. Information retrieval was not her forte, it was Fastjacks. She waited for what felt like too long before her comms device finally let her know that the download was complete and she should leave promptly, detaching the device, she began to walk to the door. Then she heard footsteps coming toward the room, she looked for a hiding place and found it.
Two men walked into the room, leaving the door open behind them, they walked up to the terminal she had just used and whilst their backs where turned Silverfire came down from her place just above the door and made her way outside. An alarm sounded and she figured shed been found out, that there was some telltale sign of her presence she had not accounted for, it was not to be however, the two men whod been in the room ran outside and into a van, powering it up they waited for the service door to open. This was her chance to leave unnoticed and she took it, stealthily moving out the door she began the long trek back to the building shed scald to begin with.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
It was time, all the preparations were complete. They had acquired everything they would need to acquired, including A-Tech uniforms and ID’s. Tank and Silverfire had gone to intercept the van, whilst Nymph and Fastjack stowed the last of the kit into holdalls.
“Ready?” Fastjack queried.
“Always. This is what we were designed for.” Nymph smiled.
Fastjack merely nodded his agreement, it was true. They had been modified, some of them to a genetic level, to do this, to prove to the common folk that Liberty was unable to protect them from a force it’s own government described as foolish and lunatic, to acquire information, to destroy the heart of corruption festering at Liberty’s core, for no greater purpose than the liberation of an entire populace.
“We’re here. Time to roll.” Tank’s voice over the short burst comms.
The van pulled into the compound; Fastjack presented the four IDs and hoped like hell they were good. The guard merely asked to check the back of the van, so Fastjack popped the doors whilst Tank allowed them easy entrance to the equipment. The guard thanked them and cleared them for entry. Fastjack was impressed, Fixer had come through. The ID’s were good.
Pulling up they grabbed their gear and entered the Archive. Approaching the reception desk Nymph stepped forward, flashing her most winning smile she politely enquired as to the location of central archive # 2. She was informed that she would have to go through the security checkpoint and on to the second floor, from here they could access an elevator that would take them to their destination, once there they should ask the security guard at the next checkpoint and he would lead them. Nymph thanked her and led the team to the first checkpoint.
As they headed through, no more than a cursory glance was given, Tank’s cyberware setting off the alarms, but that was attributed to his visible arm not anything else he might have been concealing. They found their way onto the next floor to find an elevator lobby with a display stand showing some of Ageira’s latest racing bikes, clearly designed to give the folks who lived here something to coo over. Everyone except Fastjack ignored them and the crew headed for the elevator that would take them to the 52nd floor. Fastjack activated his AR cortex interface, whilst not as quick as a full VR dive, it would enable him to fool the scanners and loop the video feeds whilst they were in the Archive room. This would make the job easier.
The elevator ride was calm and the team were prepared now, prepared in case things got unexpectedly hot. They exited the lift and headed for the room, two more checkpoints awaited them and they had as much trouble as they had had with the first, none.
They were escorted to the Archive room and left to their business. Each member headed to a terminal and proceeded to remove the tools that would enable them to pretend that they were doing the right job. In fact each of these tools was a shaped charge of military grade explosive, to be placed within each terminal. They would be detonated when the team was clear of the blast radius. Fastjack went to the terminal he needed and immediately set to work, plugging himself directly into the terminal he began the hunt for the specifications of the gunboat. He found them without issue; erasing the logs of his theft he found to be the first snag. The logs were designed to be read only; they could not be tampered with without setting off the alarms. This was an issue. He jacked out.
“Tank, I’ve got a problem, I can’t erase the logs without raising the alarm. I can’t fake the clearance necessary to do it. Phasing it out or not they still want to know who accessed what.”
Tank pondered for a moment. If the logs were not erased it was likely that the Liberty Navy would know what they stole, if they pieced two and two together they might figure out why. This was not a chance they could take. Greerson was too worthwhile to the cause to risk.
“Prep your weapons people, this is about to get hot. Fastjack, give us five minutes then do it.”
“Roger.”
The team began removing the components to their weapons, quickly and efficiently setting them up. Tank completed the HMG and hefted it, testing its weight. He turned to check that his team were ready. They were.
“Let’s roll folks. Fastjack, bring the noise.”
Fastjack smiled, jacking back in he found the logs and with a simple flick of his talent erased them. Then the alarms went off. Loud claxons blared in the room. Tank dropped an IR smoke grenade at his feet, and the room filled up quickly, shrouding them all in thick vapours. The sound of booted feet could be heard in the corridor outside. The doors burst open and guards entered the room. Tank wasted no time. He pulled the trigger on the HMG spraying laser fire. The sound of bodies hitting the floor was his only reply.
“Move!”
They complied, Tank leading the way into the corridor, ready to open fire at a moments notice. He was greeted with standard Liberty Navy weapons fire; a shot scorched his shoulder, where it burned away the clothing and flesh it revealed yet more chromed metalwork beneath, exposing his other cyberarm to view. He laughed, a deep throaty laugh as he opened fire with the monstrous weapon he held like some toy. The Navy died without a scream, although some were merely too injured to carry the fight to the madman. Tank stomped down the hall taking a moment to smash the scanners as he passed them. All hell had broken loose behind him as more guards had rushed into a blistering hail of fire from the other three team members. Tank stood by the elevator doors. Fastjack ran up to his side and re-activated the AR interface.
“They’ve got the elevators on lock-down but I can override it for this one. Not a problem.”
“Do it.”
Fastjack did as he was told and they re-entered the elevator they had come in by. Tank stabbed the button for the third floor, he expected them to gather on the second and he didn’t want his team cut down before they could exit. The lift stopped and Tank stepped out, he was somewhat surprised to find his idea had worked, but the effortless stupidity displayed by any branch of the Liberty armed forces was almost a tradition.
He motioned the others to follow him and made his way to the service stairs. He was unsurprised to find that they had however anticipated this. He reached inside his holdall and pulled out the detonator for the charges they had placed upstairs. He pressed the button.
The explosion ripped through the terminal room destroying all evidence of their crime. The explosion aside, it would be impossible for them to trace who had supplied the information and kit necessary to perform this run. The last cost of Fixer’s participation. It shook the building enough to give Tank the opening he needed, kicking open the door he threw a grenade into the stairwell. The door slammed shut as the grenade went off, then it was Silverfire’s turn, she burst through the door her reaction enhancers operating at full efficiency, she swung her SMG round to face her opponents and began to fire, her targeting software matching every shot to a vital component of each targets anatomy. When she was finished and the stairwell filled with the moans of the dying she motioned for the others to continue on. Carefully they navigated their way through the corpses and the injured; as Nymph passed each one she shot them with her pistol, to ensure they could not impede the team’s progress any further.
Silverfire reached the stairwells lowest door and checked, yes there were guards outside. She motioned Tank to take the lead. He stepped out and opened fire with the HMG; he wasn’t aiming at anything specific, just trying to buy the team time to take cover out in the lobby. They all dived for the cover of the display stand and readied themselves for a fire fight.
“Tank! These bikes are operational, buy me some time and I can get them running, it’s our way out.”
“Roger that, Plan B coming right up.”
The one feature of cyber-limbs that was exceptionally useful in this sort of environment was that they required no musculature to support, servos and electronics did the work of moving them, this left an awful lot of space within their frame, and a wise man used it well. Tank’s thighs opened at the sides and two cyber-holsters each with micro SMGs appeared. He removed the weapons and checked their ammo counts. 2000 shots in each. Standing up he aimed and pulled the triggers, the shots were exceptionally high velocity tearing through armour, flesh and anything else that got in the way. The return fire was equally brutal, smashing into Tank and revealing yet more chromed metal beneath his chest. Silverfire and Nymph did their best to keep Tank from getting shot too much, despite his frame he couldn’t withstand this for too long, someone would get the shots in that would kill him, professionally they picked off their targets and all the while Fastjack hacked the bikes on the display stand.
“Done, they’re operational. Keep them distracted!”
Fastjack ran over to one of the big glass windows that looked out onto the street below, he placed two charges at the base of the glass and hoped that these were only rocket proof from the outside. He ran back to the team.
“Fire in the Hole!”
The shockwave knocked Silverfire off her feet. Scrambling to get back in place she realised that there were just too many of them, she’d vastly underestimated the number of goons that this building had to offer. They must have been hiding, she thought, but no matter they had the data all they needed to do was get it back to Ouray, piece of cake. She cringed. Yeah, right.
“Get on the bikes and get out of here, now!”
Silverfire turned to him, not again, not this time. She wouldn’t allow it, she wouldn’t.
“No. If you’re staying we’re all staying.” She stomped her foot.
“This isn’t a discussion girl; right now the only important thing in this building is what’s in Fastjack’s head, now you get him to Ouray. I’ll buy you some time to escape.”
“But… no…” Silverfire looked distraught.
“What the hell is this, some group love in? We live for the cause, we die for the cause! Now get out of here.”
“Guys, seriously, we’re getting shot at.” Fastjack was getting nervous. Nymph unemotional as ever carried on firing at the guards.
Silverfire turned and glared at him, without looking, she shot one of the guards square between they eyes.
“I know.”
She turned back to Tank and reached up planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Kill them all. Fastjack, Nymph let’s get out of here.”
The three of them mounted the bikes and gunned the engines; with a tearing sound they detached themselves from their fastenings and speed off, heading for the now open window. Tank waited until he heard the loud thumps hitting the floor and the sound of engines roaring off.
Now he could really cut loose.
“Execute Program: Dot Increase.”
Suddenly all his systems came online, everything the best techs in Sirius could
implant was at his disposal. He stood up. A shot glanced his temple, once again showing more metal, he simply laughed.
“Will someone please kill this mother frakking son of a bitch!”
Tank’s full in body armaments were online selecting the most effective one for the job. His forearm cavities opened and a weapon arose out of each connected by a hose that went back into his arm. These were only good for a few seconds, but they were damn effective. He walked towards the knot of guards that had developed all firing at him, shots impacted on him burning away yet more synthetic flesh, revealing him for the metalwork monstrosity that he was. Great gouts of flame emerged from the weapons in his arms, setting fire to the floor and walls and the guards alike. Screams perforated the atmosphere as they were engulfed in flame. When the flamers had run out of fuel he closed into melee range and began to punch and kick, the ferocity of his blows doing incredible damage. The guards were almost powerless to resist his savagery but little by little they were doing damage to him.
The sound of attitude thrusters filled the air and Tank immediately recognised their sound, he dived for cover as huge laser bolts began to strike the walls of the area, gouging huge chunks from the plasterwork. Tank looked up from his position to see a fully armed Patriot light fighter, modified for long term atmospheric work. He gauged the distance and began to run. The pilot was unused to such a small target, and was unable to get an adequate lock. However as Tank prepared to launch himself at the vessel, the pilot took a chance. Tank was prepared, he knew he presented a target and he knew how to avoid the deadly weapons fire. As the next shots were fired he pushed himself off, they seared under him burning the clothing and flesh from his feet, his internal diagnostics registered monumental damage to his legs and shut them down for nano-repair work. It didn’t matter, the force of the laser fire impacts pushed him towards his target and he landed with a thump on the cockpit of the patriot. He began to pound on the cockpit, the force of his blows fracturing and perforating the glass, the pilot manoeuvred to shake the madman off, but it didn’t do any good. Tank crashed though the cockpit and grabbed the pilot by his neck, smashing his head against what remained of the canopy, smearing blood down the glass, the ship began to spiral out of control and Tank used his strength to push himself backwards, he was aiming for the building again, hoping that we could control his fall. The patriot hit the ground and exploded, carrying Tank into the building he was aiming for. However the impact form the ground damaged even more vital systems he was registering massive failures in all limbs, and the bioelectric energy fuelling his nano-repair units was fading fast. He was done for and he knew it. He laughed, so long as Fastjack was away it didn’t matter a bit.
The firing stopped and Tank could here the sound of approaching footsteps from behind his head. His vision was filled with two guards pointing their weapons at him before they were able to fire, Tank heard a voice.
“Negative, stand down, I want this one alive, if he’s no longer dangerous we can extract information.”
Tank just laughed more.
One of the guards jabbed the muzzle of his gun into Tanks face, or what remained of it.
“Stop laughing frakker, we’re gonna find out all about you and your friends, we’re going to find out everything you know.”
Tank laughed more, this would be amusing to say the least, damned idiots couldn’t even guess as to what was coming next.
“Why are you laughing?” The voice that had demanded he not be killed.
“Because….I…still have…one last present for you…” He chuckled
“Oh yes, and what would that be my terrorist friend?”
The command was a top priority one; it immediately activated the device hidden behind his heart, using that organic matter as the catalyst the micro fusion device in Tanks chest exploded.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
The bikes sped down the road, Fastjack in the lead, with Nymph following him and Silverfire bringing up the rear. They had no way of knowing what Tank was up to, and frankly Fastjack didn't care, if he stopped to worry then it would all be pointless anyway. He continued to ride as fast as possible, avoiding the ground based traffic.
"We've picked up a tail, two LSF assault skiffs incoming."
Fastjack kicked the bike around a sharp corner, taking to the pavement to actually manage the turn; the others followed him without mishap.
"Still with us. Fastjack can you control my bike from there?"
Fastjack considered Silverfires request. It was possible, how effective it would be he didn't know. He accessed his AR interface, full VR would be too dangerous at these speeds, not to control but to implement. He searched for the other two bikes signatures finding them he partially slaved them to his functions, allowing a manual override to take control.
"Done, now what are you up to?"
"I'm going to try something, keep my bike going straight. I need a stable platform"
Fastjack did as he was asked then it hit him as to why Silverfire would need a stable platform. Before he could stop her however she leaped onto one of the approaching skiffs, drawing a pistol she began to fire at the assembled LSF officers. Not wanting to die, they returned her fire, clipping her arm and nearly sending her flying off the skiff. She maintained her balance and took out two of the officers, climbing properly onto the skiff she backhanded the pilot and he slumped across the console. Kicking his unconscious body off the controls she managed to gain control before the skiff nose dived into the road. She set the controls to autopilot and turned her attention to the other skiff.
Fastjack and Nymph continued on, they were under fire from the last skiff, and it was hard to keep control of the bikes. Fastjack ditched the AR interface and went back to full manual control.
The explosion of Tanks device could be felt even from here, and Fastjack cursed. The mother funting ass frakking son of a smegging whore had done it again. Fastjack didn't have anymore time to ponder the implications though as the sound of thrusters filled his ears, five hundred metres down the road the Kushan Freighter had opened its doors to get them inside. Fastjack didn't waste the opportunity. He accelerated hard again and manoeuvred the bike into the cargo hold, Nymph did the same, Fastjack waited for the Silverfire but after 10 seconds he decided he could wait no longer, pushing the door control he told the pilot to get them out of here.
As the door closed Fastjack heard the sound of something impacting against it, just as it was finishing its action Silverfire came sliding down the ramp and landed badly on the holds floor.
"Ouch!" This seemed to Fastjack to be enough of an epithet. He helped her to her feet and carried her across to the bench seating.
"Folks this going to get rough, gotta clear that docking ring before they figure out I'm carrying you or were all screwed."
Fastjack sat down with Silverfire who hugged him.
"Why? Why did he have to do that?"
Fastjack swore in his mind, every time the frakker did this it hurt Silverfire, every time it killed a little bit more of her. It was different for the three on board the transport they'd been born talented and modified to be better, but Fastjack doubted Tank had ever been human, just organs cloned and then placed in a metallic shell. They'd make a new one, they had done so far. Each time though he'd find a way to die. Find a way to hurt Silverfire more, and Fastjack hated him for it.
"Were clear; I'm setting a course for home."
Fastjack sighed, he didn't know who theyd get to ferry this info to Greerson and he didn't care, all he wanted was a long shower and a good nights sleep.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.