Leela's Safehouse
Undisclosed Location
21:10 1-8 YC115
Leela leaned back in her seat down in the familiar confines of her safehouse. Ryven insisted that she remain here, but, she had finally gotten out for an evening the night before. He wasn't exactly around to stop her, and frankly, she deserved a little outing every now and then.
Tonight, however, she had more work to do. In order for Ryven's operation to succeed, it was crucial that his records, tarnished as they were, be replaced with cleaner ones. She had been busy for roughly six hours building a history, a false history, of Ryven's relationship with the Caldari State. She wondered why he hadn't just done this in the first place rather than entangle himself in a system of blackmail and extortion. Probably because Ryven doesn't think that way.
Her fingers flew over her data terminal as she put the finishing touches on his file. The tricky part, she knew, was coming. Well, relatively speaking. It actually wouldn't be that difficult. After the main network defenses were breached, accessing and overwriting his file would be quite quick and easy.
As she went about the task of overcoming the network security, she began thinking about the events of the past year. It had been a long year. She had lost her first and only love, Ryven, to his unfortunate obsession with Shalee. She had been kidnapped and tortured by her own brother, and then rescued by Ryven. She had been shut away in this little hidey hole for months, because of Ryven and his obsession with Shalee. Seriously, she needed to move on with her life, didn't she? But, what should she do with herself? The bar scene seemed like a bad idea, though it could be fun. Maybe she could go with Shalee? She scowled in disgust at herself. Here she was considering hanging out with the woman she lost her husband to.
She definitely needed to get back out into the world, though. The only way to do that would be to redefine her relationship with Ryven, and actually get over him for real. She had always clung to the hope that he would one day come back to her. She was realizing that this just wasn't going to happen, and honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted it to. She didn't want to be second place. She wanted a man who put her first.
A comms terminal next to her chirped. She had an incoming call. This puzzled her. She identified the caller and smiled. It was Zhou Liang. She liked Zhou. He was a friendly guy for a spook. Well, she thought so anyway, though it's hard to tell with double agents. When a person builds two lives of lies it's impossible to really be sure you know anything about them. Even for a snoop like Leela, sorting fact from bullshit would be nearly impossible. Still, he had been very friendly the few times she had spoken with him. Maybe he could be a friend. She decided to answer the call.
"Hello." She answered.
"Hey, Leela. Thought I'd call and check in on the progress." Zhou sounded cheerful, but tired.
"About 90% complete. New file should be in place in the next thirty minutes." She replied, her voice sounding exhausted, even to her.
"You're doing a good thing, Leela. Ryven appreciates it, even if he doesn't seem like it."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he does." She thought for a moment before adding. "How are you holding up?"
Zhou looked surprised on the video display. "Nice of you to ask. I'm worried about him, a little. And you. I'm going to have a talk with him soon about the current arrangement. I'll ask if I can stay there with you for a while. It's not good to be shut in like that. You need some company."
Leela was very surprised by the offer. Her cheeks flushed a little, but she fought it down. "I'm perfectly alright. You guys shouldn't worry about me so much."
"Leela, I spent five months locked in a tiny hole in the dark. I nearly went mad. I kept myself sane by reliving conversations from my past. People need other people."
Leela had to agree with the logic. "Okay. I'll admit I could use some company." She smiled a little bit. "Do you think Ry will go for it?"
Zhou shrugged. "Can't see why not. He's supposed to be protecting both of us. Seems like what's safe for you would be safe for me."
Leela nodded, suddenly excited by the idea of having a roommate. An attractive roommate at that. True, his looks were the result of extensive genetic and surgical modifications, but aesthetics were always manufactured, were they not? "Alright. Here's hoping." She looked back at her terminal, seeing that she had broken through the security programs. "I gotta let you go, Zhou. It's game time."
Zhou nodded. "Take care, Leela. See you soon."
She nodded and waved and ended the call, turning back to her work, beginning the overwrite process. From here it was fire and forget, so she leaned back and locked her fingers together behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Maybe this year will be different... she thought as she drifted off.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
Retribution, Part VIII: Awakening
Unisclosed Location
Zhou Liang's safehouse
09:45 1-8 YC115
Ryven awoke drenched in sweat and blood. His eyes slowly gained focus and his mind fumbled, struggling to discern where he was. A face appeared in his field of vision, at first a gray blur. The face slowly coalesced, gaining more and more detail until he recognized Zhou Liang. He could tell Zhou was speaking, but his mind was still addled. The words came as through a murk, each taking what seemed hours for him to decipher. Then, suddenly, they were coming at him at normal speed. He shook his head, clearing the remaining cobwebs. He raised himself up on his elbows and realized he was shirtless, his wounds dressed, but the surrounding skin was bruised and discoloured. The pain of his movement forced him to wince and suck in a shallow breath between clenched teeth.
Zhou's voice was that of a concerned parent. "You have to take it slow, Ryven. The damage to this clone was quite severe. If you'd taken another hit like these..." He gestured to the massive bandaged region of Ryven's abdomen.
Ryven grunted. "I've taken worse."
"Respectfully, no, sir, you're full of shit." He pointed emphatically to the bandage. "There was nothing there. That was just one big missing chunk of you, filled with biofoam. That's all there was, Ryven. Just foam."
Ryven searched for his cigarettes. He glared at Zhou. "Where'd my cigarettes go?"
Zhou pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Ryven. "Here. Knock yourself out." He stood up and walked a few paces away, staring at the wall, arms crossed. He worried about this stubborn man to whom he owed his life.
Ryven lit up a cigarette, the burning smoke agitating his lungs, and he coughed fiercely. Still, it was just what the doctor ordered. He looked over to Zhou, wondering what had gotten into him. "Hey, Zhou? How soon can I get out of here? I got a girl to go see."
Zhou turned around, stroking his chin in thought. "I would say two or three days."
Ryven laughed. "That's not going to happen." He sat up and began putting on his boots.
Zhou looked exasperated. "You're an idiot, you know that, right? You're in no condition to fly."
Ryven gave him an amused look. "I'll be fine."
Zhou stared at him in angered disbelief before he turned around and walked out, shaking his head. "One of these days, you're going to find yourself in a situation you can't fight your way out of or bullshit your way through. I hope I'm wrong, but, I'm fairly certain I'm not."
Ryven nodded, alone again in the dark. He whispered to no one. "I know. But, I made a promise that I'd come home. I've lost enough time."
Zhou Liang's safehouse
09:45 1-8 YC115
Ryven awoke drenched in sweat and blood. His eyes slowly gained focus and his mind fumbled, struggling to discern where he was. A face appeared in his field of vision, at first a gray blur. The face slowly coalesced, gaining more and more detail until he recognized Zhou Liang. He could tell Zhou was speaking, but his mind was still addled. The words came as through a murk, each taking what seemed hours for him to decipher. Then, suddenly, they were coming at him at normal speed. He shook his head, clearing the remaining cobwebs. He raised himself up on his elbows and realized he was shirtless, his wounds dressed, but the surrounding skin was bruised and discoloured. The pain of his movement forced him to wince and suck in a shallow breath between clenched teeth.
Zhou's voice was that of a concerned parent. "You have to take it slow, Ryven. The damage to this clone was quite severe. If you'd taken another hit like these..." He gestured to the massive bandaged region of Ryven's abdomen.
Ryven grunted. "I've taken worse."
"Respectfully, no, sir, you're full of shit." He pointed emphatically to the bandage. "There was nothing there. That was just one big missing chunk of you, filled with biofoam. That's all there was, Ryven. Just foam."
Ryven searched for his cigarettes. He glared at Zhou. "Where'd my cigarettes go?"
Zhou pulled a pack out of his shirt pocket and handed it to Ryven. "Here. Knock yourself out." He stood up and walked a few paces away, staring at the wall, arms crossed. He worried about this stubborn man to whom he owed his life.
Ryven lit up a cigarette, the burning smoke agitating his lungs, and he coughed fiercely. Still, it was just what the doctor ordered. He looked over to Zhou, wondering what had gotten into him. "Hey, Zhou? How soon can I get out of here? I got a girl to go see."
Zhou turned around, stroking his chin in thought. "I would say two or three days."
Ryven laughed. "That's not going to happen." He sat up and began putting on his boots.
Zhou looked exasperated. "You're an idiot, you know that, right? You're in no condition to fly."
Ryven gave him an amused look. "I'll be fine."
Zhou stared at him in angered disbelief before he turned around and walked out, shaking his head. "One of these days, you're going to find yourself in a situation you can't fight your way out of or bullshit your way through. I hope I'm wrong, but, I'm fairly certain I'm not."
Ryven nodded, alone again in the dark. He whispered to no one. "I know. But, I made a promise that I'd come home. I've lost enough time."
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Retribution, Part VII: Die Walkure
Sky over Caldari Prime
23:15-00:25 1-7/1-8 YC115
He was a meteor. A streak of light bursting through an atmosphere, utterly tranquil to the billions of inhabitants below but buffeting and scorching at him high above. His helmet blacked out to protect his eyes from the brilliant flare of the air superheated into a haze of flames around him. His dropsuit's shields were protecting him valiantly, but he knew that even the slightest variation from his current trajectory could cause the shields to overload and he would burn to a cinder miles above the planet surface. His mind drifted back to Shalee. Always Shalee.
"Target update." Leela's voice chimed in his ears.
"Go ahead."
"Target is located second floor from the top, illuminating on your HUD."
"Thank you." He replied, even though his target was still at least a thousand kilometers away.
He was about to enter the night side of the planet, the terminator still visible ahead, a hazy line between dark and light, with the darkness approaching. He slipped into the planet's shadow, the ground becoming closer, the planet filling the entirety of his view. Below him, he was greeted by the sight of millions of specks of light on a blanket of deep sable. The air around him was a cacophany, but still, he held on course. The lights grew closer, and with it, the ground.
He saw he was nearing the last couple hundred kilometers. His speed was decreasing, and with it, his lateral angle. His trajectory was parabolic, and soon, he would begin to descend much more rapidly. He could already see the spaces between lights growing. The edge of the Capitol city was nearing ahead.
One hundred kilometers to go. His speed began to decrease much more rapidly, the air thicker at these lower altitudes. He could see the tops of buildings below him. 30 km. 20 km. 10 km.
He prepped himself. He would pass by a tall skyscraper approximately 300 meters before his target. At that point, he must be ready to react without thought. This was going to be very razor edge.
He saw the skyscraper ahead, and 300m past it, his target. As the skyscraper passed, he flipped over and fired a device from each arm, one into the skyscraper behind, and one into the target building. Between the two stretched a cable, which he quickly looped an ultra-strong piece of nanofilament with handles. He had just created a zipline while moving over 100km/h. He fired his thrusters to quickly shed speed while acquiring his target on his HUD. What happened next took less than three seconds.
Hilen Ashenokka was standing in his parlor, enjoying a drink, watching a newsfeed on the wall. His penthouse apartment was a large and opulent one. One of the major features was his parlor, which sported windows floor to ceiling on three sides. He enjoyed the view of the capitol city's skyline from two thousand feet up. He never thought they would be his demise. As he turned, drink in hand, to look out on the night skyline, his death came crashing through the glass at high speed.
Ryven rolled to brake his momentum and shot out his arm to grab hold of Ashenokka's throat. Without missing a beat, he took five rapid strides at full sprint and dove out the opposite window, tossing Ashenokka as he went hurtling out into the night, two thousand feet above the crowded sleepless streets, shards of glass falling along with him, Ashenokka screaming, arms flailing. Ryven wasted no time, spinning to fire a second zipline.
This one deposited him ten blocks away in a crowded city street. He keyed up his ex-fil comms circuit.
"So far so good. I need an exit, currently set for plan A." He spoke tersely.
"Copy. Ex-fil inbound to point alfa. ETA ten minutes."
He sprinted down the crowded thoroughfare, knowing he would be pursued at any moment. A man running down the street in a combat dropsuit draws attention, and not the kind Ryven needed. Still, this was expected. Which is why he managed to dodge the first few gunshots fired by pursuing police drones. His dropsuit armor would protect him from the majority of small arms fire, but incendiary rounds or armor piercing ones would put a damper in his survival plans for sure. His best defense was speed.
He ran as though the devil pursued him, pushing aside civilians, leaping over kiosks and personal vehicles. Ahead, he saw the flash of blue lights, and he knew a roadblock had been set up for him. He swore. He had hoped to limit casualties as much as possible. He sighed and drew out a pair of sub machine guns he had stowed in his suit's weapons holds. He jumped, using his suit's muscle amplification and minute jump thruster maneuvering to evade the security forces' opening salvos, his HUD placing reticles on each of the men. He fired bursts at each of them, watching as they flickered out. He felt the impacts of small arms fire on his suit, and he thanked God they weren't armor piercing. He had promised Shalee he would come home from this, and damnit, he intended to.
An explosion knocked him off balance as he landed from his jump on the other side of the roadblock. A Caldari main battle tank stood a hundred meters off, smoke trailing from the barrel of its rail gun turret. Ryven rolled to dampen the blast, his sensors flaring from the superheated and ionized air.
"Damn. That shit showed up fast." He bounded toward the tank, zigging and zagging, using vehicles as cover. He prepped a satchel charge, one of three he had stowed in his suit's backpack. Running as fast as his suit would allow, he charged the tank, closing the last fifty meters in mere seconds. The tank's gun fired, but he slid on his back, the 155mm round skimming a mere inches from his helmet's visor as he ducked under it. He placed the charge as he slid past the tank's left side and leapt to his feet, running down the street away from the blast that demolished the Caldari armor.
He had five minutes to make it to extraction a mere eight blocks away. He had chosen this spot because it was a cliff that overlooked a subterranean section of the city.
He closed the distance as quickly as he could, knowing he was bound to encounter more resistance, and soon. He keyed his comms.
"1 klick from ex-fil point Alfa. Status of ex-fil?"
"En route, ETA three minutes."
"Roger, proceed. Extraction is green."
He could see the extraction point ahead. He was nearly free and clear. That's when he felt a searing pain in his back as the first large bore incendiary round burned through his dropsuit's armor and into his flesh, cauterizing, thankfully, but causing massive trauma in the surrounding tissue. The dropsuit responded by injecting biofoam and painkillers, along with nanites to control the damage. Still, the painkillers didn't do a damn thing for the initial trauma, and Ryven's vision flared into bright white. His instincts kicked in and he quickly spun and dropped, drawing his large caliber assault rifle. Two aerial intercept craft were approaching at high speed, firing their blasters. He felt another impact in his lower torso, and he buckled under the force, but still, he maintained his aim, opening fire on the lead intercept. His rounds were aimed at the pilot, and he was gratified by the craft's sudden loss of control. It careened into one of the many high-rise buildings along the busy street. He was thankful most of the civilian traffic had cleared out. These were his countrymen once, after all. They shared the same blood, even if he no longer followed their flag.
The second intercept jinked out of his line of fire, sending another wildly aimed shots his way. He knew the slender gunmetal blue craft, designed to resemble a mantis, would return shortly, and Ryven resumed his sprint to the extraction point. The dropsuit's damage control measures were helping, but he had lost a good deal of speed. His abdomen was stiff, and he could tell there was a monstrous amount of damage. He had to take care to limit any more incoming.
One hundred meters to go and that's when things got nasty. Five more intercept craft, two tanks, and a host of ground security forces were closing in. Fire was incoming from everywhere. He put on all the speed he could manage, a trickle of blood running from his lips, hidden behind his visor. He ran, though every fiber in his being was being torn apart by pain that had outstripped the ability of painkillers to control. His lungs ached. His vision tunneled into a black corridor, and all he could see was the approaching cliff. Everywhere projectiles careened and impacted the road and vehicles around him. The world seemed to move in slow motion, every step an eternity.
10 meters. Where's the damn dropship? Had they left him? Was he going to break his promise to Shalee and face capture, torture, and the failure of all his planning? The distance closed rapidly.
"Jump." A voice echoed in his headset.
Why not?
Ryven hurled himself over the edge of the cliff, city lights below, above, and all around him. Most importantly, though, was the dropship, tilted so its side doors were open to him as he dropped through.
Ryven screamed into his helmet's comms. "Get us the hell out of here, Zhou."
The voice of Zhou Liang chuckled to him over his helmet's comms. "Like I want to die here, either, man."
The dropship's nose pointed upward at a steep incline as the side door came closed. Ryven was thrown violently into the aft end of the craft as Zhou ignited the ship's rockets. The air around the ship exploded violently under the explosive force of thrusters that weren't meant to be used at such low altitudes, the atmosphere's denser oxygen ignited by it. The security forces within 100 meters were instantly vaporized, the tanks melting under the heat, the intercept craft thrown violently to the street, rendered useless. The dropship accelerated rapidly into the upper atmosphere, carrying them away from pursuit.
The last thing Ryven remembered seeing was the dwindling speck of Caldari Prime from the viewports of Zhou Liang's stealth bomber.
23:15-00:25 1-7/1-8 YC115
He was a meteor. A streak of light bursting through an atmosphere, utterly tranquil to the billions of inhabitants below but buffeting and scorching at him high above. His helmet blacked out to protect his eyes from the brilliant flare of the air superheated into a haze of flames around him. His dropsuit's shields were protecting him valiantly, but he knew that even the slightest variation from his current trajectory could cause the shields to overload and he would burn to a cinder miles above the planet surface. His mind drifted back to Shalee. Always Shalee.
"Target update." Leela's voice chimed in his ears.
"Go ahead."
"Target is located second floor from the top, illuminating on your HUD."
"Thank you." He replied, even though his target was still at least a thousand kilometers away.
He was about to enter the night side of the planet, the terminator still visible ahead, a hazy line between dark and light, with the darkness approaching. He slipped into the planet's shadow, the ground becoming closer, the planet filling the entirety of his view. Below him, he was greeted by the sight of millions of specks of light on a blanket of deep sable. The air around him was a cacophany, but still, he held on course. The lights grew closer, and with it, the ground.
He saw he was nearing the last couple hundred kilometers. His speed was decreasing, and with it, his lateral angle. His trajectory was parabolic, and soon, he would begin to descend much more rapidly. He could already see the spaces between lights growing. The edge of the Capitol city was nearing ahead.
One hundred kilometers to go. His speed began to decrease much more rapidly, the air thicker at these lower altitudes. He could see the tops of buildings below him. 30 km. 20 km. 10 km.
He prepped himself. He would pass by a tall skyscraper approximately 300 meters before his target. At that point, he must be ready to react without thought. This was going to be very razor edge.
He saw the skyscraper ahead, and 300m past it, his target. As the skyscraper passed, he flipped over and fired a device from each arm, one into the skyscraper behind, and one into the target building. Between the two stretched a cable, which he quickly looped an ultra-strong piece of nanofilament with handles. He had just created a zipline while moving over 100km/h. He fired his thrusters to quickly shed speed while acquiring his target on his HUD. What happened next took less than three seconds.
Hilen Ashenokka was standing in his parlor, enjoying a drink, watching a newsfeed on the wall. His penthouse apartment was a large and opulent one. One of the major features was his parlor, which sported windows floor to ceiling on three sides. He enjoyed the view of the capitol city's skyline from two thousand feet up. He never thought they would be his demise. As he turned, drink in hand, to look out on the night skyline, his death came crashing through the glass at high speed.
Ryven rolled to brake his momentum and shot out his arm to grab hold of Ashenokka's throat. Without missing a beat, he took five rapid strides at full sprint and dove out the opposite window, tossing Ashenokka as he went hurtling out into the night, two thousand feet above the crowded sleepless streets, shards of glass falling along with him, Ashenokka screaming, arms flailing. Ryven wasted no time, spinning to fire a second zipline.
This one deposited him ten blocks away in a crowded city street. He keyed up his ex-fil comms circuit.
"So far so good. I need an exit, currently set for plan A." He spoke tersely.
"Copy. Ex-fil inbound to point alfa. ETA ten minutes."
He sprinted down the crowded thoroughfare, knowing he would be pursued at any moment. A man running down the street in a combat dropsuit draws attention, and not the kind Ryven needed. Still, this was expected. Which is why he managed to dodge the first few gunshots fired by pursuing police drones. His dropsuit armor would protect him from the majority of small arms fire, but incendiary rounds or armor piercing ones would put a damper in his survival plans for sure. His best defense was speed.
He ran as though the devil pursued him, pushing aside civilians, leaping over kiosks and personal vehicles. Ahead, he saw the flash of blue lights, and he knew a roadblock had been set up for him. He swore. He had hoped to limit casualties as much as possible. He sighed and drew out a pair of sub machine guns he had stowed in his suit's weapons holds. He jumped, using his suit's muscle amplification and minute jump thruster maneuvering to evade the security forces' opening salvos, his HUD placing reticles on each of the men. He fired bursts at each of them, watching as they flickered out. He felt the impacts of small arms fire on his suit, and he thanked God they weren't armor piercing. He had promised Shalee he would come home from this, and damnit, he intended to.
An explosion knocked him off balance as he landed from his jump on the other side of the roadblock. A Caldari main battle tank stood a hundred meters off, smoke trailing from the barrel of its rail gun turret. Ryven rolled to dampen the blast, his sensors flaring from the superheated and ionized air.
"Damn. That shit showed up fast." He bounded toward the tank, zigging and zagging, using vehicles as cover. He prepped a satchel charge, one of three he had stowed in his suit's backpack. Running as fast as his suit would allow, he charged the tank, closing the last fifty meters in mere seconds. The tank's gun fired, but he slid on his back, the 155mm round skimming a mere inches from his helmet's visor as he ducked under it. He placed the charge as he slid past the tank's left side and leapt to his feet, running down the street away from the blast that demolished the Caldari armor.
He had five minutes to make it to extraction a mere eight blocks away. He had chosen this spot because it was a cliff that overlooked a subterranean section of the city.
He closed the distance as quickly as he could, knowing he was bound to encounter more resistance, and soon. He keyed his comms.
"1 klick from ex-fil point Alfa. Status of ex-fil?"
"En route, ETA three minutes."
"Roger, proceed. Extraction is green."
He could see the extraction point ahead. He was nearly free and clear. That's when he felt a searing pain in his back as the first large bore incendiary round burned through his dropsuit's armor and into his flesh, cauterizing, thankfully, but causing massive trauma in the surrounding tissue. The dropsuit responded by injecting biofoam and painkillers, along with nanites to control the damage. Still, the painkillers didn't do a damn thing for the initial trauma, and Ryven's vision flared into bright white. His instincts kicked in and he quickly spun and dropped, drawing his large caliber assault rifle. Two aerial intercept craft were approaching at high speed, firing their blasters. He felt another impact in his lower torso, and he buckled under the force, but still, he maintained his aim, opening fire on the lead intercept. His rounds were aimed at the pilot, and he was gratified by the craft's sudden loss of control. It careened into one of the many high-rise buildings along the busy street. He was thankful most of the civilian traffic had cleared out. These were his countrymen once, after all. They shared the same blood, even if he no longer followed their flag.
The second intercept jinked out of his line of fire, sending another wildly aimed shots his way. He knew the slender gunmetal blue craft, designed to resemble a mantis, would return shortly, and Ryven resumed his sprint to the extraction point. The dropsuit's damage control measures were helping, but he had lost a good deal of speed. His abdomen was stiff, and he could tell there was a monstrous amount of damage. He had to take care to limit any more incoming.
One hundred meters to go and that's when things got nasty. Five more intercept craft, two tanks, and a host of ground security forces were closing in. Fire was incoming from everywhere. He put on all the speed he could manage, a trickle of blood running from his lips, hidden behind his visor. He ran, though every fiber in his being was being torn apart by pain that had outstripped the ability of painkillers to control. His lungs ached. His vision tunneled into a black corridor, and all he could see was the approaching cliff. Everywhere projectiles careened and impacted the road and vehicles around him. The world seemed to move in slow motion, every step an eternity.
10 meters. Where's the damn dropship? Had they left him? Was he going to break his promise to Shalee and face capture, torture, and the failure of all his planning? The distance closed rapidly.
"Jump." A voice echoed in his headset.
Why not?
Ryven hurled himself over the edge of the cliff, city lights below, above, and all around him. Most importantly, though, was the dropship, tilted so its side doors were open to him as he dropped through.
Ryven screamed into his helmet's comms. "Get us the hell out of here, Zhou."
The voice of Zhou Liang chuckled to him over his helmet's comms. "Like I want to die here, either, man."
The dropship's nose pointed upward at a steep incline as the side door came closed. Ryven was thrown violently into the aft end of the craft as Zhou ignited the ship's rockets. The air around the ship exploded violently under the explosive force of thrusters that weren't meant to be used at such low altitudes, the atmosphere's denser oxygen ignited by it. The security forces within 100 meters were instantly vaporized, the tanks melting under the heat, the intercept craft thrown violently to the street, rendered useless. The dropship accelerated rapidly into the upper atmosphere, carrying them away from pursuit.
The last thing Ryven remembered seeing was the dwindling speck of Caldari Prime from the viewports of Zhou Liang's stealth bomber.
Retribution, Part VI: Prelude
Caldari Prime
Orbit
22:37 1-7 YC115
Ryven waited. The airlock was depressurized, utter silence broken only by the sound of his breathing in his sealed dropsuit. A red flashing warning light indicated the impending opening of the external doors. Each flash was reflected in the slick black of his helmet's faceplate, and he was crouched, poised to propel himself toward the target.
His mind drifted to the past few days of preparation. He had awoken on the 9th and made his departure as Huola's star was rising over the manor. He had glanced back mournfully, reluctant to leave Shalee behind, but knowing he had to see this through. Even Tiger had agreed with him on that. Although, that was likely because Tiger wanted Ryven gone, and the possibility of Ryven suffering extreme bodily harm was not something Tiger was likely averse to.
He had made the trip to Leela's safehouse, careful to cover his tracks. With her assistance, the code was extracted from the nanochip he had retrieved rather messily from General Ikaren's neck. Leela had fabricated a transponder for his dropsuit and programmed the defense codes into it. Ryven wondered if this operation would have even been possible without her assistance. He decided it would have, but the risk would have been multiplied to a ludicrous degree. He would have to get her a thank you gift.
The rest of the preparations had been largely moving assets into place. Leela would be his source of intel. She was patched into a fluid router comms channel routed through a series of nearby comms satellites, automated orbital installations, and into his helmet. His ex-fil was set to pick him up at one of a series of sites that could be chosen on the fly. He had the comms for that set up on a seperate circuit.
He was carrying only a small arsenal of weaponry and equipment. The dropsuit had built in stealth technology, motorized joints and muscle amplification tech, and combat optics and mapping that interfaced with his capsuleer implants. Considering all that, he was remarkably lightweight at only 450 lbs and 6'7" tall.
His reverie was broken by the sudden opening of the external doors. The space between the doors widened and the bustling surface of Caldari Prime loomed ahead of him. However, his target, a Charon class freighter, the [i]Lysander[/i] loomed even closer, a mere 10 km away. The tiny shuttle was on a parallel course and speed with the freighter, thankfully.
Ryven pushed off the airlock wall with a powerful kick, firing a set of twin thrusters in his suit's backpack to accelerate. As he hurtled through the space between the two vessels, he considered how tiny he was. Just a speck, black against black, traversing the gulf in absolute silence. He was utterly alone, isolated from the universe and yet at once an integral piece of it. Everywhere he looked silent behemoths went gliding through the void. He wondered if this is what it was like to be lost overboard at sea with dark shapes circling and gliding above and beneath. He shivered involuntarily, thankful the distance was closing.
At the last hundred meters, he flipped so his feet were facing the Charon and fired his thrusters to decelerate. His feet touched the blue gunmetal hull of the freighter and Ryven activated electromagnets in the soles of his boots.
The walk to the external maintenance hatch was a short one, only 50 meters or so. Freighters are largely unmanned, and as such, he was unhindered in his efforts to open the hatch and float, weightless, into the shaft that went the length of the cargo bay. Ryven glided half the length of the bay before he reached his target.
Ryven had chosen this freighter due to its highly explosive cargo of rocket fuel and munitions, namely 100,000 torpedoes. He intended to use an explosive to set off the fuel, which would detonate the massive cargo of missiles. This would provide a very effective diversion.
"Leela."
Her voice replied crisp and clear in his helmet. "Target is in the building. His family is not present. Mission is green."
Ryven nodded, then rolled his eyes at the pointlessness of such a gesture. "Thank you, Leela. Apprise of any changes."
"Good luck."
Ryven placed the explosive, a small device less than half a meter square. He pushed off and glided back out of the shaft, again magnetizing to the hull of the ship. He began the long silent trek to the other side of the freighter.
When making reentry into a planet's atmosphere, care must be taken to do so at the proper angle. Too steep and the dropsuit's thermal shields flare out and the wearer burns up into ash miles above the planet surface. Too shallow and the poor bastard goes skipping like a rock off into space. Thankfully Ryven's suit was able to display the correct glide path on his helmet's HUD.
Ryven reached his drop point. His target coordinates were entered in to his glide path navigation program. A countdown to drop was ticking in the corner of his HUD. He crouched, deactivating the magnets as the timer reached one. He pushed off at an angle, firing his thrusters to line up with the markers on his HUD. He watched his velocity indicator, and checked the distance to the freighter. 22km. He pulled out the detonator. 24 km. He flipped off the safety. 26 km. He pressed the button.
The sky above Caldari's capitol erupted into brilliant bluish white and an assassin sailed unobserved toward his target.
Orbit
22:37 1-7 YC115
Ryven waited. The airlock was depressurized, utter silence broken only by the sound of his breathing in his sealed dropsuit. A red flashing warning light indicated the impending opening of the external doors. Each flash was reflected in the slick black of his helmet's faceplate, and he was crouched, poised to propel himself toward the target.
His mind drifted to the past few days of preparation. He had awoken on the 9th and made his departure as Huola's star was rising over the manor. He had glanced back mournfully, reluctant to leave Shalee behind, but knowing he had to see this through. Even Tiger had agreed with him on that. Although, that was likely because Tiger wanted Ryven gone, and the possibility of Ryven suffering extreme bodily harm was not something Tiger was likely averse to.
He had made the trip to Leela's safehouse, careful to cover his tracks. With her assistance, the code was extracted from the nanochip he had retrieved rather messily from General Ikaren's neck. Leela had fabricated a transponder for his dropsuit and programmed the defense codes into it. Ryven wondered if this operation would have even been possible without her assistance. He decided it would have, but the risk would have been multiplied to a ludicrous degree. He would have to get her a thank you gift.
The rest of the preparations had been largely moving assets into place. Leela would be his source of intel. She was patched into a fluid router comms channel routed through a series of nearby comms satellites, automated orbital installations, and into his helmet. His ex-fil was set to pick him up at one of a series of sites that could be chosen on the fly. He had the comms for that set up on a seperate circuit.
He was carrying only a small arsenal of weaponry and equipment. The dropsuit had built in stealth technology, motorized joints and muscle amplification tech, and combat optics and mapping that interfaced with his capsuleer implants. Considering all that, he was remarkably lightweight at only 450 lbs and 6'7" tall.
His reverie was broken by the sudden opening of the external doors. The space between the doors widened and the bustling surface of Caldari Prime loomed ahead of him. However, his target, a Charon class freighter, the [i]Lysander[/i] loomed even closer, a mere 10 km away. The tiny shuttle was on a parallel course and speed with the freighter, thankfully.
Ryven pushed off the airlock wall with a powerful kick, firing a set of twin thrusters in his suit's backpack to accelerate. As he hurtled through the space between the two vessels, he considered how tiny he was. Just a speck, black against black, traversing the gulf in absolute silence. He was utterly alone, isolated from the universe and yet at once an integral piece of it. Everywhere he looked silent behemoths went gliding through the void. He wondered if this is what it was like to be lost overboard at sea with dark shapes circling and gliding above and beneath. He shivered involuntarily, thankful the distance was closing.
At the last hundred meters, he flipped so his feet were facing the Charon and fired his thrusters to decelerate. His feet touched the blue gunmetal hull of the freighter and Ryven activated electromagnets in the soles of his boots.
The walk to the external maintenance hatch was a short one, only 50 meters or so. Freighters are largely unmanned, and as such, he was unhindered in his efforts to open the hatch and float, weightless, into the shaft that went the length of the cargo bay. Ryven glided half the length of the bay before he reached his target.
Ryven had chosen this freighter due to its highly explosive cargo of rocket fuel and munitions, namely 100,000 torpedoes. He intended to use an explosive to set off the fuel, which would detonate the massive cargo of missiles. This would provide a very effective diversion.
"Leela."
Her voice replied crisp and clear in his helmet. "Target is in the building. His family is not present. Mission is green."
Ryven nodded, then rolled his eyes at the pointlessness of such a gesture. "Thank you, Leela. Apprise of any changes."
"Good luck."
Ryven placed the explosive, a small device less than half a meter square. He pushed off and glided back out of the shaft, again magnetizing to the hull of the ship. He began the long silent trek to the other side of the freighter.
When making reentry into a planet's atmosphere, care must be taken to do so at the proper angle. Too steep and the dropsuit's thermal shields flare out and the wearer burns up into ash miles above the planet surface. Too shallow and the poor bastard goes skipping like a rock off into space. Thankfully Ryven's suit was able to display the correct glide path on his helmet's HUD.
Ryven reached his drop point. His target coordinates were entered in to his glide path navigation program. A countdown to drop was ticking in the corner of his HUD. He crouched, deactivating the magnets as the timer reached one. He pushed off at an angle, firing his thrusters to line up with the markers on his HUD. He watched his velocity indicator, and checked the distance to the freighter. 22km. He pulled out the detonator. 24 km. He flipped off the safety. 26 km. He pressed the button.
The sky above Caldari's capitol erupted into brilliant bluish white and an assassin sailed unobserved toward his target.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Retribution, Part V: Recovery
Ibura System
Undisclosed Location
11:23 1-3 YC 115
Ryven awoke disoriented. His last memory was a dark alley in the Perimeter system and immense pain. He had flashes of an image of Shalee, and immediately was filled with a sense of despair. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, his vision becoming focused, his surroundings emerging from the haze.
He was in a bed. It was the sort of bed found in a hospital. Okay, so he was in a hospital. That explained why he was in a white gown. He wasn't strapped down, so he rose up off the bed, and quickly became dizzy. He calmed himself, forcing his breathing to slow, his pulse to ease. He pulled his legs off the bed and set his feet on the floor. The cool metal was painfully chill, and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine. He swore. He heard a door slide open behind him.
"Ah, so, you've decided to finally return to the land of the living." A rather jovial voice greeted him from behind.
Ryven turned his head to see a woman of medium height and athletic build with dark brown hair and a touch of gray. She appeared to be late forties and was of obvious Caldari blood, most likely Deteis. He managed a halfass grin. "I try to die as little as possible these days." He glanced about. "Where am I?"
The doctor smiled. "You're back in the loving arms of your new best friends." She laughed. "The Falcon Brotherhood are big fans of your work."
Ryven barely kept from making a face. He hated the name those terrorist jackasses had chosen for themselves. Falcon Brotherhood. Still, he had to assume they were the reason he wasn't captured/cloned. "They were the ones who came in all commando deus ex machina style to save me, huh?"
She laughed. "Pretty much. You apparently succeeded in a manner beyond their expectations. So much so, they've decided to make you an honorary member. They gave you their tattoo." She gestured toward his right shoulder.
He looked down and winced. There it was, the stupid falcon with its angry looking eyes, tearing its talons into who knows what. He rolled his eyes. "It was only a matter of time till I got a tattoo, I guess." He shook his head. "So, when can I get out of here?"
The doctor shrugged. "I imagine whenever you wish. You immortals can take a hell of a beating. I'm actually surprised you didn't wake up sooner."
Ryven blinked. "How long have I been out?"
"Well, today is the third."
Ryven swore. He stood up from the bed, still a little woozy. "Where are my things?"
The doctor gestured to a bag by the doorway. "You'll find all of your personal effects in there. Your ship is docked where you left it, and all of the items you requested are loaded onboard." She paused for a moment. "I'm actually a little sad to see you go. You've done great things for our cause."
Ryven just shook his head. He pulled his clothes from the bag and quickly donned them. He turned to the doctor. "What's your name?"
She seemed surprised. "Elizabeth Garuda."
He nodded. "Well, Doctor Garuda, thanks for everything, but, believe me when I say, you want me gone as soon as I can be."
She frowned. "Why do you say that?"
He sighed deeply and turned as he was walking out the door. "Where I go, death seems to follow after."
Undisclosed Location
11:23 1-3 YC 115
Ryven awoke disoriented. His last memory was a dark alley in the Perimeter system and immense pain. He had flashes of an image of Shalee, and immediately was filled with a sense of despair. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, his vision becoming focused, his surroundings emerging from the haze.
He was in a bed. It was the sort of bed found in a hospital. Okay, so he was in a hospital. That explained why he was in a white gown. He wasn't strapped down, so he rose up off the bed, and quickly became dizzy. He calmed himself, forcing his breathing to slow, his pulse to ease. He pulled his legs off the bed and set his feet on the floor. The cool metal was painfully chill, and an involuntary shiver ran down his spine. He swore. He heard a door slide open behind him.
"Ah, so, you've decided to finally return to the land of the living." A rather jovial voice greeted him from behind.
Ryven turned his head to see a woman of medium height and athletic build with dark brown hair and a touch of gray. She appeared to be late forties and was of obvious Caldari blood, most likely Deteis. He managed a halfass grin. "I try to die as little as possible these days." He glanced about. "Where am I?"
The doctor smiled. "You're back in the loving arms of your new best friends." She laughed. "The Falcon Brotherhood are big fans of your work."
Ryven barely kept from making a face. He hated the name those terrorist jackasses had chosen for themselves. Falcon Brotherhood. Still, he had to assume they were the reason he wasn't captured/cloned. "They were the ones who came in all commando deus ex machina style to save me, huh?"
She laughed. "Pretty much. You apparently succeeded in a manner beyond their expectations. So much so, they've decided to make you an honorary member. They gave you their tattoo." She gestured toward his right shoulder.
He looked down and winced. There it was, the stupid falcon with its angry looking eyes, tearing its talons into who knows what. He rolled his eyes. "It was only a matter of time till I got a tattoo, I guess." He shook his head. "So, when can I get out of here?"
The doctor shrugged. "I imagine whenever you wish. You immortals can take a hell of a beating. I'm actually surprised you didn't wake up sooner."
Ryven blinked. "How long have I been out?"
"Well, today is the third."
Ryven swore. He stood up from the bed, still a little woozy. "Where are my things?"
The doctor gestured to a bag by the doorway. "You'll find all of your personal effects in there. Your ship is docked where you left it, and all of the items you requested are loaded onboard." She paused for a moment. "I'm actually a little sad to see you go. You've done great things for our cause."
Ryven just shook his head. He pulled his clothes from the bag and quickly donned them. He turned to the doctor. "What's your name?"
She seemed surprised. "Elizabeth Garuda."
He nodded. "Well, Doctor Garuda, thanks for everything, but, believe me when I say, you want me gone as soon as I can be."
She frowned. "Why do you say that?"
He sighed deeply and turned as he was walking out the door. "Where I go, death seems to follow after."
Retribution, Part IV: A Messier Exit
General Soren Ikaren's Residence
Perimeter II19:36 12-29 YC 114
Ryven spun in a crouch, his eyes scanning the small courtyard, the main entrance to General Ikaren's private home lay some ten meters away. Though dwarfed by some other skyscrapers in the vicinity, the building was not unimpressive. Ryven knew the General's actual home would be the top three floors, some hundred meters above him. He also knew that he had roughly three minutes to get there before the commotion in the courtyard would be reported, assessed, and a lockdown of the building's lifts would be in effect. With that in mind, Ryven sprinted across to the entrance.
He vaguely knew that he was bleeding. He knew he had been hit, more than once, and he felt his right side beginning to grow stiff. His vision hadn't begun to blur yet, but he knew it would soon. He reckoned he had around five minutes until his effectiveness was absolutely shot unless he could get some nanos. Not friggin likely.
The door slid open and Ryven slid through, his eyes and his rifle barrel sweeping the lobby. There was a man stationed at a desk, and Ryven placed two rounds through his forehead before the man could even rise from his chair. Without stopping, he spun the barrel to face the door to the building's main lift. With his left hand, he pressed the call button on the control panel and waited, his ears pricked for approaching footsteps. The lift seemed to take forever, and he was acutely aware of every pulse of his heart. He could feel it in his ears, his fingers, and running down his right side. He shivered slightly. His body heat was dropping. Blood loss. He didn't have time to check the damage, but he could tell it was worse than he had expected. He may have as little as three minutes. DING. The lift doors opened.
Ryven instinctively dove backward, the black outlines of weapon muzzles visible as the doors parted. He saw the flash of light, but no sound, and he felt the familiar pressure of an assault rifle buttstock recoiling tightly into his shoulder as he returned fire. He felt a searing heat in his left shoulder as a round tore through the muscle and out his back. Another impacted in his left thigh, tearing a gouge through the outer muscle. He heard a man screaming, and the sound echoed in his own head, seeming as though it were coming to him from both inside and far away. He had crashed onto the floor before he realized it was his own voice. He lay there, realizing, largely due to the silence, aside from the ringing in his ears, and the mess of crimson carnage in the lift in front of him, that he was alone again. Smoke hung low in the air, and the floor around him was pocked with holes from gunshots. His eyes stung from sweat and blood from a knick in his forehead from a slug fragment. The three security personnel in the main lift were dead, their corpses riddled with holes. Ryven lay there, his eyes closed, desperately willing the room to stop spinning. He slowly pulled himself up, using his rifle as a prop. He limped over to the lift and slumped against the wall in the corner after using the control panel to send it to the suite at the top of the building.
Floors flashed by quickly, covering the height in only about thirty seconds. Ryven willed himself to stand erect, rifle at the ready, as the lift came to a stop and the doors slowly opened. He stepped out into the hallway.
Opulence is not the Caldari aesthetic. The General's residence was barely decorated at all, consisting of the most utilitarian of furnishings, a few austere portraits of family members, and marble busts of self-same. There was a large portrait of Tibus Heth located over a faux fireplace. Ryven stalked through the rooms, his rifle shouldered, looking for Ikaren. The suite was empty, no sign of life to be found. Ryven was beginning to grow faint, the corners of his vision darkening. He needed those defense codes. He knew, though, without even having to search, that they were literally on Ikaren's person, or rather, in his person. Those codes would be surgically implanted, likely at the base of his skull, in a nanochip, likely shielded to prevent detection. A special device would be necessary in order to read the data. A device Leela would have. Ryven managed a smile. He could go visit Shalee. His leg buckled under him. He swore. Okay, he could visit Shalee, if he found the General, if he killed him, and if the chip happened to be where he thought it would be. That was a big if.
Sometimes, God looks out for those who fight for Him. Ryven heard the DING of the lift and quickly dashed to a position with line of sight to the entryway. He saw that there were three men, and one was wearing a very impressive looking blue uniform. The other two were at the ready, rifles sweeping the room. Ryven knew he had little time to waste. Wincing, he aimed as best he could, his arms trembling, his vision blurred. He squeezed the trigger and cringed with each impact of the buttstock against his wounded shoulder. His rounds were sloppy, peppering the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, but still, he managed to take out the two guards, and wound the General.
He slowly limped his way to the lift, the General's form slumped against the wall of the lift, his eyes glassy, two large holes in his chest, a pink bubble forming at one. The bullet had punctured the man's lung, and bubbles oozed out with every breath. A trickle of blood formed at the corner of the man's mouth, his speech labored. "Who are you?"
Ryven sighed. "Someone your government should have just forgotten."
The General seemed to accept that. He glanced down at his wounds, realizing his fate. He looked Ryven in the eyes. "Why?"
Ryven's eyes softened. This man had done nothing to deserve this. He simply happened to be in Ryven's path. "The codes. Where are they?"
The General sighed, seeming to understand the look in Ryven's eyes. Nodding, he tilted his head to the side. "Left side, a quarter inch behind the jaw." His eyes showed a quiet resolve. "Make it quick."
Ryven nodded and grabbed a combat knife from one of the dead guards laying nearby. He raised his rifle and fired a round into the General's forehead, killing him instantly. He stood there silently for a moment, a measure of respect for his former countryman. It saddened him, this whole business. Still, it had to be done. He knelt down and quickly dug the chip out of the General's skull with the knife, pocketing it. He glanced around, and wordlessly walked into the lift and rode it back to ground level.
He knew there would be a force waiting for him. What he encountered, however, was beyond anything he ever could have prepared himself for.
As the doors to the lift slid open, his eyes took in no less than thirty armed men, three mechanized combat powersuits, and an armored vehicle. The officer in charge of the Home Guard defense personnel, a young Captain, shouted to him.
"Drop your weapons and come out, hands above your head."
Ryven, his strength waning, leaning against the wall of the lift just to remain upright, managed a laugh. He let his rifle hang by the sling and dug into his coat pocket for a cigarette, quickly lighting it and coughing as he took a drag. He shouted back. "I'm afraid I can't do that, kid."
The Captain, somewhat surprised, called back. "We have you outnumbered, outgunned, and surrounded. If you do not come quietly, we will be forced to kill you."
Ryven wondered about that possibility. He had an updated clone nearby. If he died, he would simply wake up, brand new. This seemed appealing. However, part of his deal with those nasty bastards in Ibura was to make it seem like one of their operations. If his corpse were collected, he could hardly pass off as a crap freedom fighter. He was obviously an immortal, and that just wouldn't do. However, no reason to rush. He took another drag of his cigarette before replying. "I can't really roll with that option either."
The Captain seemed puzzled. His orders weren't terribly clear on what to do. Home Guard command had made it clear he was to take prisoners if possible. While the man in the lift hadn't really made that impossible, he wasn't really coming quietly either. He was just smoking, really. The gall of this man was staggering, actually. The Captain saw the four bodies in the courtyard, and he knew there were other men stationed here as well. The man in the lift was obviously wounded, but he was still standing, and that meant he was not to be underestimated. This moment of indecision proved to be the Captain's undoing. He turned to issue a command and his head simply evaporated.
Ryven blinked, surprised. He hadn't fired. He quickly raised his rifle in defense as all hell broke loose.
Shots rang out from every direction. Everywhere, men ducked, scrambled, and returned fire. The courtyard turned into a killing field as men took hits and spun or dropped where they were standing. Ryven watched as a dozen satchels flew into the mass of men near the armored and mechanized units. Knowing them for what they were, Ryven was still blown backward into the back wall of the lift by the force of the blast as they detonated, spattering the ground and walls with gore and mechanical pieces. Smoking wreckage lay where the mechs had been, and the front end of the armored vehicle was smashed in, smoke roiling from cracks in its plating. Ryven knew it was his only chance.
He bolted across the courtyard, firing shots at whatever targets presented themselves. He leapt over the wreckage of one of the mechs as rounds whizzed by him. A few landed nearby, throwing up plumes of dust or careening off of metal plate. His vision narrowed, the effects of multiple gunshot wounds, massive blood loss, and shock having taken their toll. He ran out into the street, and without thought or plan, weaved and hurled himself through traffic and past onlookers, running at his best speed, until the sounds of gunfire and sirens were far behind him. He found an empty alley, ran down into it, and behind the shelter of a garbage bin, he finally crashed to the ground, the darkness sweeping over him.
Retribution, Part III: A Messy Entrance
Abandoned alleyway
Perimeter II
20:05 12-29 YC 114
Ryven lay, gasping, clutching the gaping wound in his right side. The bleeding had slowed, and he hoped this was because he had applied steady pressure, rather than because of a lack of remaining supply. His eyes took in the narrow strip of night sky he could observe between the two skyscrapers he lay between. He was lying in something wet and warm, and he vaguely wondered if it were his own blood. As he drifted out of consciousness, he thought only of Shalee, her eyes full of rage and his lips mouthing a silent apology. "I'm sorry, Shalee."
Perimeter II
20:05 12-29 YC 114
Ryven lay, gasping, clutching the gaping wound in his right side. The bleeding had slowed, and he hoped this was because he had applied steady pressure, rather than because of a lack of remaining supply. His eyes took in the narrow strip of night sky he could observe between the two skyscrapers he lay between. He was lying in something wet and warm, and he vaguely wondered if it were his own blood. As he drifted out of consciousness, he thought only of Shalee, her eyes full of rage and his lips mouthing a silent apology. "I'm sorry, Shalee."
********************
General Soren Ikaren's Residence
Perimeter II
19:30 12-29 YC 114
General Ikaren, a mid-level commander at the Home Guard's atmospheric defense department, lived in a small compound in the middle of a large metropolis. Perimeter, as part of the Caldari State's core systems, was a bustling place. Ryven's main concern was that, as part of the Caldari State's home systems, it was a higher presence of security than he was used to. He only managed entry by hitching a ride under a falsified identity, courtesy of Leela. He said a quiet prayer of thanks for her willingness to assist him in his current operation. Her understanding of security systems was far superior to his own, and frankly, this operation required that understanding.
Ryven stood across the main thoroughfare from the main entrance to General Ikaren's compound. He leaned casually against the smooth wall of an office building, smoking his own personal brand of cigarettes, dressed in a long coat and generic street clothes. He was unarmed, aside from his decades of hand to hand combat training, capsuleer implant technology, and a short ceramic knife hidden in his coat sleeve. The ceramic wouldn't appear on any scan technology, and thus, was preferable to most other weapons options available. Ryven had considered a stealthy entrance, but, honestly, there wasn't much chance of success on that front. The walls were considerably higher than he would like to climb, there were guards posted at all times, and the frontal approach would make it look like an attack by his terrorist friends, which was what they wanted anyway. With this in mind, he flicked away his cigarette and strode across the street.
He stepped up to the gate and pressed the buzzer. A screen popped open, the display showing a uniformed guard's face. The guard spoke tersely, "State your business."
Ryven looked about shiftily, as though he were in extreme fear. "I've got intel. Terrorists, man. They've got some serious shit planned. I mean, fuckin Rouvenor big, man! I need to talk to the General, right fuckin now."
The guard looked extremely skeptical but the gate slid open anyway. Ryven stepped through into a security checkpoint. As he expected, there was the usual security scan, which he passed easily. He continued the act, though, his eyes darting about, his shoulders hunched, his hood drawn. He was nearly through security, though, and he was hopeful he could drop the act soon enough. That's when the plan started to fall apart.
A guard stood in front of him, his slate blue uniform starched and impeccable. His voice was gruff, but utilitarian. "Spread your arms and legs for a pat down, sir."
Ryven blinked, playing dumb. "Huh?"
The guard's voice became more firm. "Spread your arms and legs for a pat down, sir."
Ryven rolled his eyes and swore to himself, but complied. The guards hands patted down his waist, and legs, and Ryven's mind kicked into survival mode.
He scanned his surroundings quickly, using his peripheral vision, he identified four guards in the immediate vicinity: the one patting him down, one directly behind him watching the pat down, and the two manning the scanner equipment roughly five meters behind him and to his left. He took a deep breath, his heart rate quickly amping up, but time seemingly slowing as his adrenaline increased to fight or flight levels. He sprung into action.
The guard performing the pat down never knew what hit him. He simply felt a sharp sting in his neck and a warm splash. Bright red blood spurted through his fingers as he tried desperately to stop the outpour from his neck, but he was doomed. Ryven had slit his throat in a ragged line with his ceramic knife and thrown the blade into the eye socket of the man behind him before the first guard had hit the ground. The two guards by the security scanner were stunned, but reacted as quickly as they were able, raising their weapons as Ryven closed the distance. He rammed his fist into the first man's throat. Using his momentum, he grabbed hold of the man's rifle, breaking the guard's nose with the rifle butt and quickly looping the rifle's sling over his head, threw him to the ground, breaking his neck in the process. The last guard, now with a clear line of fire, opened fire, the assault rifle deafeningly loud in the confines of the security checkpoint. Ryven winced as he felt the first rounds tear through him, but he gritted his teeth and rolled quickly forward and to the left, lining up a shot to the guard's head as he came up and rapidly squeezing off three shots in quick succession. He didn't need to assess. The smacking sound of brain matter on metal walls was highly distinctive.
TO BE CONTINUED
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Retribution, Part II: Preparations
Ibura System - Hidden location
19:24 12-26 YC 114
These men were terrorists, or perhaps freedom fighters, or even bloodthirsty murderers. It depended on who you were asking. In Ryven's experience, this was always the case with such men, driven as they were by their whatever causes they held as just. When adamant will met with rigid ideology, ultra-violence often followed. Luckily for Ryven, ultra-violence was his agenda. He watched closely as a small gaggle of these men prepared his "care package." He had been held here, virtually a prisoner, for the past two days after arriving on this orbital installation. It felt like it had been far longer than that since he had said goodbye and hopped onto his shuttle away from the Manor and Shalee and all of his friends. He had been sitting in his dark cell when one of the men had delivered the message that his corporation was no more, and of the birth of the new corporation, In Exile. While this news was troubling, and certainly fanned the flames of old hatreds between him and his former comrade Sab0tag3, it was secondary to his current mission. With that in mind, he filed the news of his corp's demise in the back of his brain and instead focused on running the mission over and over mentally until it was flawless.
Step One: Meet with terrorists and get supplies. Check. He would be leaving in the next day or so, God willing.
Step Two: Gain atmospheric entry defense codes in order to fool the defense patrols and automated defenses on Caldari Prime. This would likely require him to kill someone. Or torture. He was leaning toward kill. In fact, it was part of his bargain with the terrorists. They had a particular member of the Caldari State's Home Guard's boardroom in mind. Ryven saw no reason not to acquiesce to these demands.
Step Three: Create a diversion. This would be most easily achieved by detonating an explosive on a ship in orbit around Caldari Prime. With the defense forces reacting to that action, it would grant Ryven a window of opportunity to perform an exoatmospheric re-entry using a stealth combat dropsuit.
Step Four: Do an exoatmospheric re-entry using a stealth combat dropsuit.
Step Five: Enter Hilen Ashenokka's penthouse apartment.
Step Six: Kill Hilen Ashenokka.
Step Seven: Escape.
Step Eight: Rendezvous with Leela and erase his records.
Step Nine: Return to Shalee and the Manor.
Step Ten: Drink copiously.
It was an easy enough plan.
19:24 12-26 YC 114
These men were terrorists, or perhaps freedom fighters, or even bloodthirsty murderers. It depended on who you were asking. In Ryven's experience, this was always the case with such men, driven as they were by their whatever causes they held as just. When adamant will met with rigid ideology, ultra-violence often followed. Luckily for Ryven, ultra-violence was his agenda. He watched closely as a small gaggle of these men prepared his "care package." He had been held here, virtually a prisoner, for the past two days after arriving on this orbital installation. It felt like it had been far longer than that since he had said goodbye and hopped onto his shuttle away from the Manor and Shalee and all of his friends. He had been sitting in his dark cell when one of the men had delivered the message that his corporation was no more, and of the birth of the new corporation, In Exile. While this news was troubling, and certainly fanned the flames of old hatreds between him and his former comrade Sab0tag3, it was secondary to his current mission. With that in mind, he filed the news of his corp's demise in the back of his brain and instead focused on running the mission over and over mentally until it was flawless.
Step One: Meet with terrorists and get supplies. Check. He would be leaving in the next day or so, God willing.
Step Two: Gain atmospheric entry defense codes in order to fool the defense patrols and automated defenses on Caldari Prime. This would likely require him to kill someone. Or torture. He was leaning toward kill. In fact, it was part of his bargain with the terrorists. They had a particular member of the Caldari State's Home Guard's boardroom in mind. Ryven saw no reason not to acquiesce to these demands.
Step Three: Create a diversion. This would be most easily achieved by detonating an explosive on a ship in orbit around Caldari Prime. With the defense forces reacting to that action, it would grant Ryven a window of opportunity to perform an exoatmospheric re-entry using a stealth combat dropsuit.
Step Four: Do an exoatmospheric re-entry using a stealth combat dropsuit.
Step Five: Enter Hilen Ashenokka's penthouse apartment.
Step Six: Kill Hilen Ashenokka.
Step Seven: Escape.
Step Eight: Rendezvous with Leela and erase his records.
Step Nine: Return to Shalee and the Manor.
Step Ten: Drink copiously.
It was an easy enough plan.
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