Rogue Nemo, put down his Burst Transmitter. He knew he didn't have much time. The transmissions were
secure enough to not be able to be traced, but the Manhattan police and security forces had already proven
they could use other means at their disposal.
His instructions were clear. The voice on the other end of the BT had said, "DPL Terrorists activate Operation
Gopher." Nemo's face went grim, because he knew this was the start of it. What was coming, he did not know.
All he knew, was what he had to do.
Nemo looked around the room and packed up his gear. Slowly one by one, he put away the instruments he
had been using into his duffel bag. His binoculars, the Burst Transmitter, some expensive bits and ends from
the Lane Hackers. His hovering tea cup stabiliser. His personal tazer and .45 calibre pistol. His black leather
gloves made no mark on any of the equipment. He didn't like the gloves, but the boss had insisted.
Nemo looked around the room, looking to see any traces that he had been here, and satisfied that the room
was clean, he turned to the door, opened it and walked out, locking the door behind him as he went.
He walked down the street and turned a corner, grinning slightly as he heard the sound of sirens off in the distance.
Sovereign Wrote:Seek fun and you shall find it. Seek stuff to Q_Q about and you'll find that, too. I choose to have fun.
Roger sat at the end of a long conference table in his private compound on Padua, thinking about what he had just ordered his men to do.
So far the DPL had been passive, feeding off of the Rogues and spewing propaganda, not much more. The Libertonian government had the gall to put bounties on every one of his men and with that they had declared all out war on the unlawful factions of Liberty.
"Men, you know what this means."
Seven of his most trusted pilots sat at the table with him, all profound men in his mind.
"Liberty wants war, they'll have it. Leave nothing left in your path, the government refuses to bow to us when we're passive, so we're going to show them what it means to fight with the combined forces of the DPL and the Rogues."
"What are our orders sir?"
"We're moving in this week, I want hit and runs, the lot. You've got details uploaded to your personal net logs now."
This was it, the day he had been waiting for. Operation Gopher was a go...there would be no mercy for Liberty's citizens now.
Manhattan, being a democratic planet state, had certain opportunities for the public to gather in the
parliamentary buildings, specifically when there were elections, as well as at other times. Access to
the inner parliamentary chamber was restricted to ministers only by digital DNA scans, but there was
an open upper rotunda that people and press could sit and watch the proceedings. Elections were
every three years, to give the other parliamentary parties the opportunity to be elected as the Government.
There were guards on foot patrol, and various electronic devices designed to detect weapons.
Internal scanners were always on the lookout for various instruments of destruction. Projectile
and energy weapons were detected, knives, sharp instruments were confiscated, explosive drugs
and chemicals were sensed
The scanners didnt show up many low-tech ways and ingredients of making explosives however.
These methods were known to the various law security and military enforcement agencies, but the
method of assembling the explosives was largely untraceable.
Ben looked out the window, he was lying on the sofa in his quarters, looking over a set of planes he had been asked to draw up. Things seemed to be laying pretty well, but getting through the security grid was going to be tough. Having been up all night working on the plans, Ben's mind started to wander, looking at the starts he thought back to Houston, and his father... a flood of emotions Begin to run over him, the anger welled up in him yet again, and the emptiness that came inevitably came with it. Standing he walked over to the small breakfront bar on the wall. Pulling down a glass, he grabbed a bottle from the shelf and looked longingly at the label. Pulling the stopper out of the bottle, he slowly poured the brown liquid into the glass. Bringing the glass to his lips, he took a drink, and felt the liqueur burn it's way down his throat, lighting a fire in his belly. Looking back at the plans, he thought about a few last adjustments, but aside from that, it was done.
Ben took another drink, he would fly tomorrow to Ames in Keplar,where he would leave his Greyhound and board a transport to NY. He hoped his falsified documents would stand up to scrutiny, but the stop in NY was just to through off suspicion, he would board another transport for Houston. He would have to go back home for this one...and he wasn't looking forward to it........
New Chief of Police Matt Myers, after the early retirement and subsequent trip to Curacao of the old Chief, John Baxter, stood behind a technician that was at a computer terminal. Security breaches were blipping up then dying down all over, but there was no way to pin any of it down.
"Hey, you! I want as many flatfoots as we got on the beat the next few days. I'm not liking this, too much going on that we can't get a handle on. And get Quinn in my office."
With that Myers turned and stormed to his new office, rotund body still barely fitting through the door. He'd really have to look into that new diet. Sunbucks was losing stocks fast, what with the advent of the WFPFOOLPIP, the newest diet.
A few minutes later, Quinn walked in. He looked like a snake of a man, eyes never resting too long on one place, but he was the best. He was in his signature trench coat and crumpled fedora, as if he had been throttling it with his hands.
"Yeah Chief?"
"I want you on the streets, Quinn. I don't like the feels of this. Everyone's restless since we put out the blanket bounties, something is bound to crack."
"I'm on it sir."
With that he turned and walked out, already shouting orders through a two-way walkie-talkie. One of the best.