26

“One last thing,” I said. “Where is the rest of your team?”

He didn't answer.

We both knew he wouldn't be here without at least a squad to back him up. There wasn't a mission secret enough to violate that standard operating procedure. If I confirmed that it was only Briggs and Crank, then this was something completely different, a personal vendetta done off the books. They might even be AWOL.

The question was, did this make things better or worse? How desperate would these two bad-asses be if pushed into a corner? What incentive would cause them to go renegade when they had everything they could want in the Union military?

I almost hoped they were part of a larger strike force.

Briggs didn't seem like the type of man who would betray the people he saw as his rightful masters. Crank lacked the imagination to go rogue. So that brought me back to my original conclusion. He had a team tucked away somewhere and they were all Union lackeys.

“We both know you have a squad,” I said. “Keeping them in reserve is smart. Especially if you have them positioned for a coup de grace. But now is the time to call them in. We are assaulting a fortified building with well-armed and highly motivated guards.”

“You're saying that because you can't do this alone. You need our help,” Briggs said. “If you had your way, you would've already stolen the girl and disappeared.“

“All true,” I said, holding up one finger for him to stand by while I talked to someone else. “Start working on the location of their squad mates, X,” I said.

Briggs went pale. Crank made a sound of disgust and muttered swear words under his breath. They reacted differently to my being a Reaper. Crank was more dangerous in the short term. I hadn't forgot our sparring session before Dreadmax. He'd come at me with everything he had. I'd smashed him and damaged his ego. A lot of men would carry a grudge after that.

Briggs was the real danger, however.

He'd hunt me long after this was over for reasons I couldn't explain.

“Do you want to win or play games?” I asked.

Briggs turned away abruptly, consulting someone on his bone-mic radio. “Do you still have eyes on our position?” he asked.

I didn't hear everything he said, but I smiled. It was good to be right.

“Can you tap into their conversation?” I asked X-37.

“Unfortunately, no,” X-37 said. “They're using sixteen-digit encryption.”

“Can you determine if they are relying on line of sight or using remote surveillance?” I asked.

A few strides away, Crank glared at me. “Stop talking to your AI.”

“Limited AI,” I said reflexively, echoing all the times X-37 had chastised me on this point.

“Whatever,” Crank said.

“I believe the support team is very close,” X-37 said. “But not stationary. Possibly in a fast ground vehicle or dropship.”

I slipped around a parked vehicle to a better position, hoping to avoid any embarrassing sniper incident. I thought I was making progress with Commander Briggs, but that didn't mean he wouldn't order my death.

“While you're waiting, Reaper Cain, I've done some analysis on the work Tom the mechanic did on your arm,” X-37 said.

“Discover anything worthwhile?”

“Certainly, Reaper Cain. Tom's re-calibration of your micro servos have improved efficiency of your arm three percent. I am exceedingly curious to know where he learned his trade,” X-37 said. “It may not solve your most recent problems, but a small amount of relief should reduce the load on your neural network, and by proximity, your nerve-ware.”

Briggs finished his covert conversation and stepped back. “I'm bringing in the team. Don't get any ideas. I will consider your opinions and evaluate your observations of the assassins' guild headquarters, but these are my people. Keep your hands off of them. My team, my plan.”

“No problem,” I said. “What’s their ETA? I don’t have all night.”

“My ground element—“

“You mean your sniper team,” I interrupted.

“My ground element will hold an overwatch position until the freighter lands. We will meet them on the tarmac. There is a hangar where we can plan the mission,” Briggs said.

Crank led the way to the landing pad, casually pulling aside a section of fence to gain access to the facility. The place was a step up from the smugglers’ spaceport where I kept the Jellybird, but not by much. Apparently, the FISC planners had wanted to keep their overhead down. There wasn't a security guard or even a fake security sensor array.

“How do they keep people out of this place, X?” I asked.

“They have a very strong company charter,” X-37 said.

“What the hell does that mean?” It felt like the right answer. I assumed the main problem was commercial competitors and that they were better handled with contracts in court proceedings. It was a mystery for another day why common criminals didn't break in and rob the place.

The more I saw, the more I realized there was nothing someone could steal without a huge infrastructure and distribution network of their own. It was a great place for the Union to put down spies because there were no customs agents or other regulatory systems.

Briggs motioned for me to go next. I kept an eye on him and his partner. Ambushing me at this point would be pointless—unless there was more to the situation than I realized. In my experience, every situation had a hidden layer—a chance for everything to go horribly wrong.

I didn't think I was paranoid, just prepared to kill everyone I met.

Was that wrong? I didn't think so.

Once we were all inside the perimeter, we moved quietly across the tarmac and waited. A nondescript freighter made a tediously slow descent and touched down. The rest of Briggs's team filed down the ramp.

There were five men and one woman. Two of the men made up the heavy weapons team, one was the primary gunner and a second was a back-up and ammo mule. I wasn't sure what the woman sergeant’s job was, but suspected she was cross-trained as a rifleman and medic.

They looked me over but didn't speak. It was obvious they had encrypted radio comms I didn't have access to. Yet.

“I don't see your sniper team,” I said.

“You’ll never see my sniper or his partner,” Briggs said.

“Never’s a long time.” I respected snipers. Of all the types of enemies I could face, they were the most dangerous. Memories of what happened to Byron Thane proved my point.

Briggs ordered his team to set up a table inside the hangar. The building was simple, a large open space in the middle with two levels around the edges that contained workshops, offices, and windows to view the outside areas.

Crank pulled the door down and slid a crossbar through the latch.

“David, Holmes, set up security. No one in or out,” Briggs said.

The two soldiers went to opposite corners and stationed themselves on upper levels near windows with a commanding view of the tarmac and the access road to the building.

Briggs faced me, leaning on the table as though ready to get down to business. “Corporal David and Lance Corporal Holmes are good men. Your Reaper friend won't be able to get by us if that's what you're worried about.”

“He doesn't have a reason to attack us here,” I said. “So I'm not worried about it.”

“Good,” Briggs said, waving his team closer to the table. He moved a collection of tools around to represent buildings, intersections, and vehicles. “Gunnery Sergeant Samantha Bane is my second in command, an order from her can be considered an order for me. If I go down, she's in charge regardless of rank.”

“Zero fucks given,” I said, causing Crank to swear.

X-37 whispered in my ear, “This is actually very relevant information. I had assumed Sergeant Crank was his second.”

I didn't want to respond verbally, but I had assumed differently. Crank wasn't leadership material, he was a heavy—a bone breaker and enforcer, someone who could force open doors with various tools.

“You can drop the act here,” Briggs said. “We're professionals. If I tell my team to work with you despite your past, then they will.”

I looked over each member of his squad. “I believe you.”

For a second, I thought the man would throw my ‘zero fucks given’ comment back at me. He restrained himself and continued the briefing.

He lined up a series of wrenches to indicate his personnel. “Bane, Crank, Orlando, Jonji, Galen, David, and Holmes. Orlando and Jonji are my heavy gun team. Orlando carries the squad automatic weapon.”

“And I'm his ammo bitch,” Jonji said.

No one laughed, but I liked the guy already. If he was intimidated by my Reaper hardware, it didn't show.

“What about your sniper team, who are they?”

“You can call them sniper one and sniper two,” Briggs said. “Now we construct what you know about the assassins’ guild headquarters so we can plan this mission.”

“Are you also trained as a medic?” I asked Gunnery Sergeant Samantha Bane.

She narrowed her gaze. “How did you know that? My file is as secret as everyone else's on this unit. Your limited Reaper AI shouldn't be able to touch it.”

“Just a guess,” I said. “Your tactical first-aid kit is better positioned for quick use on your gear. Take Crank, for example. I'm sure he can reach his medical gear, but I'd bet money it's been a while since he actually did.”

“I told you to keep your hands off my team,” Briggs said. “Let's get started.”

I nodded, then stepped forward and scanned the planning board we treated more carefully. X-37 copied it and placed a wireframe version in my HUD where he manipulated elements such as personnel movements and expected defenses.

While Briggs and his team were pushing around tools and machine parts as map icons, I was getting detailed variations on the scene in three dimensions with annotated timelines we could expect.

X-37 and I kept it on the down low, with me talking to the limited AI as little as possible.

Briggs touched his ear, then adjusted the receiver box on his armor. “Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker. Okay, go.”

“I've got one pedestrian approaching from the south. Looks civilian. No weapon seen. Unknown intent. Subject looks to be in his 50s or 60s and dressed like a factory worker. I'm no fashion expert, but I'd say that jumpsuit he's wearing is his only outfit,” said the voice of Corporal Holmes.

“Anyone you know?” Briggs asked me.

“Can he send video?”

Briggs removed a panel from his armor and put it on the table. He touched the screen and a grainy image popped into view.

Tom walked hurriedly toward the industrial quarter. If I didn't know better, I'd almost assume he was a maintenance man for FISC.

“Well?”

My instinct was to offer complete denial and feign ignorance, but I had to admit there was a chance Briggs’ sniper team had seen more of my movements than I realized. Getting caught in a lie when I needed these people to trust me wouldn't be helpful.

“I've seen him a few times. I think he's a homeless machinist or something,” I admitted like it didn't matter.

“What's he doing here?” Briggs asked.

I shrugged. “Going to work? Union taxes ain't free. Someone's got to pay your salary.”

“Bane, Crank, check him out while our Reaper finishes explaining the layout of the target building,” Briggs said.

I complied, watching this scene unfold through video surveillance of Corporal Holmes. Gunny Bane and Sergeant Crank intercepted Tom, rousted him for information after a search for weapons, and sent him on his way.

I moved one of the wrenches closer to the box that represented the building we would be assaulting. “The approach shouldn't be a problem. We can have an overwatch here and here, covering the opposing corners. I'd like to take everyone inside but keeping a perimeter could be important if they tried to move the principal.”

“David and Holmes will handle that. They’re my most junior operators and they're good at that sort of thing,” Briggs said without sounding arrogant or condescending when he assigned them in their minor role. “I'll fill them in after the briefing.”

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