Glad you like it. And like I said - an early draft of the first few portions appeared elsewhere - on Aberrant’s forums, in fact. I was (still am I suppose ) a fan of Rezolution.
And the rudiments of the prelude/opening sequence appeared on the old Warzone forums quite a while back.
Major Eames shouted into her local net link, “Get them away from the north gate NOW or I’ll shoot every goddamn last one of them.” then turned back to the comms handset clenched in her fist. “I said, where’s my satellite cover! I need D-H Tactical to skywatch everything inside 200k - if it’s goddamn seagulls even. Ground the civilian flights if you have to.”
Every word made her head pound more. Her lip was split and bleeding, and the left side of her face swelled brown and purple from where it’d slammed into a support beam. She dry swallowed two pain-tabs. “I don’t care! You tell Madrid and Paris, D-H just invoked the Crisis & Cooperation Act. Special Deployment Bureau is in charge here - I’m making the rules. I’ll appraise them as to their status - their status is to shut up and give us what we need.” She paused and yelled out to a passing lieutenant, “Have Fury 1 & 2 refuel and stay on station for an intercept. And get me ground transport !” She turned back to the handset, “Why am I still talking with you? Get me my satellite cover. Now.” and slammed the unit back into the cradle.
She turned her back on the relay and looked up. The glimmer of dawn was starting in the east, drawing pale, drained colors into the scene before her. The flames had been doused, now poison trees of brown smoke billowed up into the air. Bodies stretched out before the smashed heap of her transport. A parade row of glossy rubber lumps on the black tarmac, their gray ident-tags troubled by the limp morning wind. The base was breeched, it’s security force neutralized, an Ultra asset snatched and vanished, two assault carriers down, half her men dead. Whoever did this should just shoot their selves now. She was hunting, and once she locked on - like a pit wolf - she wouldn’t let go until they were torn and broken at her feet.
It was an advanced model sneakship; a Mk 5, all low and sharp, and sexy. It nestled in the clearing, sucking light and sound out of the air like a sliver of black hole. It had its trademark sinuous twist of angles and curves, matt black carbon composites, wrapped around one huge, triple ram air engine. During the Taiwan Crisis in ‘23, a Japanese company designed the first ones for covert incursions into then deeply paranoid People’s Republic airspace. Gakis were totally revolutionary: incredibly fast, virtually silent and nearly invisible to airspace defense grids. Until the new Silkworm17 SAM systems started sprouting up that is. A-PAC had been selling to both sides; sort of a real life testing ground for their R & D. In fact, the first time I saw Tam, he’d been dragging himself out of one on a beach near Changhua.
He walked right up to this one and coded the entry lock. A panel slid back and the seven of us climbed in. I laid Poet9 out in the back and found an old autodoc case in an overhead. I flipped the dented top open, sticking the sensors on his head and chest. I stared as the small screens blipped to life, willing them read optimal.
Tam was over my shoulder. “Is he…?”
“Breathing? Barely. Heart’s weak. Cortical waves are barely rolling. Crap equipment like this, I can’t tell if his gear fused, or if the micro breakers tripped in time. We need to call the Doc.”
Tam pursed his lips. “We skip delivery, A-PAC might panic. Come after us.”
“This is Poet9, not some meat shield who took his chances. “
“I know who it is, Jace. A-PAC thinks we skipped out, they’ll take all of us down.”
“Look at the read-outs Tam!” my voice rose. The Triplets and Gibson turned to stare. “This gear isn’t even mil-spec!” I kicked at the faded yellow case. “It’s a disaster relief antique. A refugee handout - probably from India or the Paks ten years ago. He won’t last on this.” I cranked up the hypospray injector. “Stuff’s long past it’s expire date.” I glanced furiously around the Gakis’s sleek, lean cabin. “A giga-credit ship with obsolete medicals: real asset prioritizing there. Miserable bastards.”
“You know how it is Jace.” He looked at Poet9’s face, brown all drawn and waxy. “OK, we’ll get Doctor Kahalani first. You weasel around the autopilot and stick us to Barcelona. It’s the closest sprawl and we can disappear. I’ll wave Rao that we need to go to ground after a lift like this. A-PAC can wait.”
I spun around and headed for the front cabin. At least I’d get to rip something apart, even if it was only the flight panel. Gibson’s eyes followed me.
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
I stopped, something smart and tough on the tip of my tongue. A Ganymede merc line pulled straight out of the flicks. I looked back, full into those startling green eyes.
“Yeah. Me too.”
PARALLEL: SHARP JOLT
Avery Hsiang leaned forward in his seat. “What do you mean ‘gone’?
“They never made the rendezvous, Mr. Hsiang. We tracked the ship’s transponder as far as the Pyrenees, but the signal was lost in the mountains. Last heading indicated a south east track toward Barcelona.”
A sharp jolt of pain shot up Avery‘s neck into his clenched jaw. “Inform Colonel Otsu he is to retrieve the ship and it’s cargo, and attend to these mercenaries. I am … displeased with his performance. I expect someone of his rank to be more thorough. No more disappointments. Update me within the hour.” He snapped off the connection.
Avery Hsiang glanced out the Lear’s view port. At this height, soaring through lowspace, the sun’s rising crescent creased the blue black of the horizon.. His eyes tightened at the glare. The Chairmanship was nearly in his grasp. This acquisition would seal his selection conclusively. irrevocably. He would not, could not, let anything deter him. Not his rivals, not Dawson Hull, and least of all, not some filthy gang of gajin Zone scabs. How dare they. No. He will shatter them.
Tam and I were mopping up the last of our eggs when Alejo slid the small white box across the table to us. “Here. A good one, fresh from the factory. Nothing high profile, it’s out of a run designated for laborers, domestics - people like that. You still with Rao?” Tam, his mouth full, nodded.
“ Good! He was always smart at alternates. He can swirl up one for this chip and link it, then you should have no troubles for food and clothing while you stay.” He hunched forward over the scarred, peeling paint of the door table, and dropped his voice a notch. “You must be careful going out - things here are difficult - even more these days - and there are some who would sell their family for a corporate card. Always they offer rewards for dissenters, smugglers. It becomes tempting for many.” He gestured over to the Triplets, who were clustered around Gibson, helping the boy finish his breakfast, playing with the food on his plate. “The three must stay in. Too obvious - their size, color. What of the little one? You are bringing him to his family?”
Alejo figured Gibson for the child or relative of some corporate defector who wanted their family brought over with them, and we‘d run a snatch to reunite him with a mother or father. Any other time he’d have been right; it was a common enough job. Tam shook his head, “He was our target for this run, yes, but he’s the asset Alejo. Big time.”
Alejo looked at the boy through narrowed eyes for several long seconds. “And so little, he does… what?”
Tam & I just smiled at him.
“Oh - you’re right, of course.” He shrugged and leaned back, grinning back at us. “Most days, I’m happy to be here, to be old, to be with Carmen. Just to be alive. But some days I remember. I smell diesel, cordite… I hear them talk on the Newsnets, see what is happening all around and I wish I could go back. Run again. Carmen gets angry when I tell the boys about when I was their age - Greece, Turkey, the ‘Stans, even North Africa.“ He gestured toward us. “She says she is scared they might let something slip someday, but I know she does not want them to get ideas. I don’t blame her.“ He glanced over at his wife, who was actively defending Gibson against Flopsey and Mopsey’s predations on his breakfast plate. He dropped his eyes and swallowed. “And she is right, of course, of course.“ He looked slowly around the cellar room, then back at us, his large moustache now hiding a little smile. “But Curro over there,” He jutted with his chin at his son, who was still watching over the whole scene from the doorway. “My children are all capable, but that one… I’d wager that one, he has el tacto del fantasma. That one could run. And run well. With training, of course” He looked at me and Tam.
I nearly choked on my bread and eggs. “What, and have Carmen gunning for us? I’d rather be darkside on Luna.” The moment passed and we all broke up laughing, and all the noise and smells and chatter of the room rushed back in. We poured out the last of the strong black coffee, cleared the plates and started working on the details of our little Spanish vacation.
Still, later that morning I caught myself observing the dark haired Curro, watching the way he moved, spoke with Gibson or the Triplets, carried away the trays. And I saw Tam, several times, doing the same.
Jackson MacKinnon stood and stared out the window watching the sun creep into the new day. He heard the brisk tread of the sergeant major recede down the hall, and the elevator hum and descend. In the gaining light there were so many options, dangerous opportunities, potential moves and countermoves. Then his mind fastened on one particular item - a hinge - and with a start, he looked around his office. He moved deliberately to the head of the huge conference table and touched a recessed button underneath.
“Yvette.” he spoke into the air.
“Yes, Mr MacKinnon? The AI’s voice was all around him, full and British proper, with a hint of sensuality. “What can I do for you?”
“Lock all access & egress points for this floor. Secure the room, code blue three five, and engage SCIF protocol.”
Yes, Mr. MacKinnon. Sensitive Compartmentalized Information Facility protocols engaged.”
Immediately the large armor glass windows hazed opaque white and a low ambient hum filled the edges of his awareness. He waited a moment, then,
“Open a secure sat-link with channel 00597 Delta 4. Maximum encryption. Audio only.”
“Right away, Mr. MacKinnon. Sat link engaging….. Online.”
After a small static whine and hiss, another voice filled the air. Clipped, British as well, but very human.
“Brenton here. Jackson - I take it you met with Asian Pacific?
“Hsiang left less than an hour ago. Smarmy little toad. A-PAC denies complicity - but you knew that, yes?” A pause, “Was the prototype stolen?”
“Initial reports indicate the boy is missing. The Toulouse base was certainly breached, it’s security decimated and both rapid response teams neutralized. The two transports were shot down, and one platoon wiped out completely. Most of the casualties occurred when the infiltrators fought their way out. No one knew they were there, until then. Whoever A-PAC hired for this did extremely well. No losses on their account that we could determine. Very thorough, very professional.
“And the Major? Did she -”
“Eames is alive. Frothing mad, of course - out for blood. Seems the local air defense net picked up the echo of an un-id’ed transponder at one point, heading over the Pyrenees towards Barcelona. Looks like someone else was tracking it as well. Your dear Major has invoked C & C with Madrid. She intends to go jackbooting in there loaded for bear. It’s practically a general mobilization. She’d have the whole of Old B flex- cuffed and up against the wall if she had her way.”
That’s why we pay her, Brenton. She’s probably the best man we’ve got. One platoon wiped out, you say? Who performed the infiltration?
“Yes - an entire platoon. And half the base force as well. We’re still working on mercenaries’ identification. Not much to go by, I’m afraid. I’m not concerned about that however…” Brenton’s voice hesitated in the air all around MacKinnon. “The final trials were underway. The boy had made absolutely remarkable progress, better than anything else thus far, but it was obvious the technology had yet to develop into its final phase. From earlier versions, things cascade rather quickly once the critical point is reached.”
“You’re saying things were delicate, I understand. But you were going easy on him. Said you didn’t want to risk triggering an advanced state before the time. Reports indicate anything this early is still dormant, correct?.
“He wasn’t ready… For the boy to be taken now, it could ruin-”
“No matter. The thing’s in motion. We have a new variable introduced, that’s all. Barcelona, you say?”
“Yes, as best we can tell. Eames is sure; “Gut feeling” and all that. Intel division says it’s credible.”
“I want to contact Hester. Bring him in on this jumble. I’ll brief him personally; it’s a rather… diverse target package this time.”
“Hester…really? You want to risk bringing him to the surface? What about Buenos Aires? Terrible mess, that was.”
“Not his fault really. Self defense. And we did want a market shift.”
“Yes, well, we certainly got that, once the bloodletting ceased.”
“That was the cartel families. Not our concern. We were there to pick up the pieces, that’s all. Besides, this is the single most vital operation DH has undertaken in a decade. It will shift the balance of power completely in our favor. We can’t risk failure. The Board is well aware of the gravity of the situation. Hester is a necessity.”
“Very well. Hester it is. I’ll have the lads in the dark room locate him. And drop him off in Barcelona on the double. He’ll be in touch, no doubt.”
The two tone alarm chimed. Dr. Iso Shoei set down the data pad and peered over the top of his glasses. Across the desk, a pop-up warning flashed from red to green on his workstation monitor signaling the decryption algorithm had finished. He hunched over and keyed his password, allowing the one-time file to open in a secondary window. It was an order from Euro Division; clone unit requisition. He made a quick jot on his e-pad and read on, his brow furrowing as the final text slid past. It ended abruptly, the critical directive “immediate deployment for operations critical to corporate interests” bracketed by top discretionary sanction codes. Dr. Shoei scrolled back to re-read the main portion. No mistake, they wanted three units. Incredulous, he double checked the authorization. It was valid. He sat back in the chair staring at the screen. We made it clear in the last report. Don’t they realize…? He shook his head, then hit the com-link on his desk. “Dr. Hatsumi, meet me in Replication right away. We just received an order for three units. Tier Two approval.”
“I’m in the middle of a gene sequence here. Can Hiru take this one? I’m about to -”
“It’s for Type 5s. You’re the only one in this shift with proper clearance. Meet me at the tanks in 5 minutes. Shoei out.” He cut the link and stood up. A timer in the message window was counting down to auto-delete, so he noted the order details on his data pad and dropped it in his lab coat. He turned, grabbed his key card, and headed out the door for Genetics.
As he hurried down the central corridor, the distant throbbing of geo-thermal processors welled up around him. Their deep resonance only added to the apprehension. He fingered the data pad in his pocket. Three? Why in God’s name do they want three? The steel ribbed ceiling seemed suddenly low, the weight of the island pressing down. Carved deep underground in volcanic rock, the A-PAC Chishima Lab was a black facility. Classified, isolated, and heavily guarded, elite scientists culled from every university and sub-division in entire Asian consortium made up the staff here. The finest minds available and no expense spared for cutting edge bio-tech research and products. But the Type 5s are still too volatile. Their physiological capabilities are undeniable, yes, but the neural-restraints are tenuous. Released in society they would be utter sociopaths. A very high risk product. He stepped up to the elevator, heavy doors opening with a brisk hydraulic sigh as he absently waved his card. He entered, right hand in his pocket holding the data pad now. With the merest nudge he started down. Tier Two authority. What choice did he have? Really?
Seconds later the floating sensation ceased. “Yellow Section. Level 4, Unit 731.” the elevator announced. Dr. Shoei stepped out into Genetics and headed left to the clone banks. His mind raced. He’d overseen the design and production for the previous four gene-sets: medical testing, labor, comfort, and soldier units. All single purpose engineered. All stable, all perfect. He’d have thought they would listen to him. They aren’t finished yet. These Shinsengumi assassin units could be his finest work yet. They’d rank among the best combat clones ever manufactured; better than the albino series Praetoria spliced for the African civil wars. He just needed more time with this series. But with an immediate requisition, it didn’t look like he was going to get it. He pushed through the faded blue double doors into the Replication wing.
Dr. Hatsumi was already waiting for him, nervousness etched on his face as well. “Are you sure they want Type 5’s? Now? At this phase? They can’t be serious.”
Dr Shoei just stared for a moment, then pulled out the data pad and waved it in front of the younger scientist. “They are serious. The order’s green stamped for immediate deployment. I confirmed the authorization codes; they’re echelon two. A lead arbiter with the European offices. We have to comply and fill the order.”
“Yes. But three?”
“Three.”
“That’s… Doctor, your Q1 report stated their conditioning hadn’t rooted, and behavior patterns were still highly erratic. They’re strictly developmental phase and only activated in case of extreme necessity.”
“Well Dr. Hatsumi, someone feels this is an extreme necessity.” He paused, looked wearily at him and gestured with the data pad again. “Are you saying we refuse to perform this procedure? You know what that would mean, yes?”
“I - well, no. I mean… Dr. Shoei, it‘s just that they are. Dangerous. I was simply expressing some professional reservations. My apologies.” He bowed low to the older man.
“No, no, no. None of that. You are right. But we have an order. Once they leave the facility however, it is out of our hands. You start the de-tank process and I will switch on the automated defense systems for this area. As a precaution.” He bent over a security terminal and started logging in. “And we are not going to stimulate their tactical and combat enhancements until the pheno- imprint is stabilized. Even then, we will instruct Operations to only inject the neuro-chemical triggers when they’re deployed in the target environment. Agreed?”
“Fine. The less we handle the units the better I’ll feel. What are the gender and imprint requirements?”
“Two male, one female. Latin phenotype. Engagement area is Spain, the Catalonian region. Occupational covers are lower class laborers: a courier and dockworker for the males, medical orderly for the female. Initiate the pheno-imprint chemicals simultaneous with the thaw to speed up the process. I want them out of here as quickly as possible. Once they’re defined, you’ll have to forward their genetic prints to Operations so they can start on inserting cover profiles into the target‘s General Population Databank.”
“Of course Doctor. I’ll inform you when the thaw’s complete.”
Colonel Otsu winced inwardly at the sight of Lead Arbiter Hsiang on the vid link. 3,000 km away, and still the sneer of that small hard face was a slap and his tone was better suited for addressing insects. Nevertheless, the Colonel stood impassive, staring at a point just over the top of the screen and was glad at least for distance between them.
Arbiter Hsiang was speaking again. Otsu focused and resumed listening, “- derelict in your obligations Colonel. Consequently, I am remanding you to an assignment you can handle. I’ve ordered three clone units to Spain. They are Shinsengumi designation; highly valuable prototypes. Do not interfere with them in any fashion. They are there on my authority and answer to me alone. No need to inform the Board - this is merely a delay. They will not fail me Colonel, and I will present the technology within two weeks when the General Assembly convenes.”
Colonel Otsu’s mind stumbled and tumbled to a halt. Three of the prohibited replicants deployed in one area together? New prototypes at that? The last he‘d heard, two clones was the maximum permitted, short of unanimous Board approval. Too high a risk of exposure and censure if they were discovered. He understood this particular mission was important, but three clones? What had these Zone mercenaries stolen? Hsiang was still speaking. “ - and your men as the new security detail, upgrading safety measures at our Barcelona Port Complex interests. You will use this cover to support the Shinsengumi cell in any and every possible way. Do you think you can perform those duties adequately Colonel Otsu?”
He snapped to attention. “Of course Arbiter Hsiang!”
“I hope so. For your sake. These ronin completely disregarded the terms of our agreement, and headed toward the Barcelona Metropolitan Zone instead. I’ve been informed there was a message outlining their intention to disappear until they felt more secure. They are lying. They must be trying to sell the acquisition to another buyer, some other corporation. That cannot be allowed to happen. I must possess that technology in working order. That is the Shinsengumi’s primary objective: to gain control of the item. Consequently, it must be located at all costs. If possible, they will attend to the mercenary swine, but not at the risk of the asset. If they cannot finish matters, you and your men must terminate this crew of zone trash. The message must be clear that their sort cannot renege on an A-PAC contract. It would only encourage defiance.”
“But Arbiter Hsiang, the word will get around, and other left hand contractors will be reluctant to undertake future jobs with us. “
“Colonel, with this technology, we won’t need sprawl whores any more. See that this is done. Out.”
-------------------------
He was small, quiet. Nothing obvious - fit perhaps, with dark hair - but not out of the ordinary to make you remember him one way or the other. He smiled at the very pretty, very Spanish customs constable and she smiled back, scanning the back of his hand. She checked her screen. He waited. Just another tourist. Anglo, American or UK perhaps. No, not American, he was certainly a N.EU citizen. His scan said so. And the accompanying profile pop-up warranted no attention, raised no flags, suitably boring. A business traveler. Probably something with the Port Complex. She punched a few more keys on her computer console.
“Have a pleasant stay in Spain.”
“Thank you. “ He smiled again.
But she was already looking away as the next arrival stepped up to the gate.
The man called Hester walked slowly past the Lounge area, put on his sunglasses, and stepped out into the bright Mediterranean warmth of Barcelona, waving for a cab.
I’ll hold there for the moment. There’s a bit more to this first block and I’m into the next section - altho I just realized I need to add in a couple scenes prior to the next major conflict. I’ll keep at it tho.
Thanks for the kind words. Hope people are enjoying it.
