[Planetkiller II]

Somewhere near Metallis, USA

“All right, what have we got?”

The Falcon was less than ten minutes from Metallis city, the gleaming metropolis of towering spires looming over the horizon. The supposed Crisis Team was having a crisis. After the initial takeoff, they had unbuckled and begun a small council of war. Having a good plan was essential for this kind of operation, but with the limited reports that they did have it looked like this mission was rapidly descending into disaster.

“I’ve got a couple of paperclips and a tissue if it’ll help,”

John said, turning out his pockets. A vague s****** passed throughout the personnel bay, before Hannah, always the voice of reason, cut it short.

“John, do shut up, this isn’t the time.”

John, somewhat embarrassed at this rebuke, became serious.

“Oh alright. I’ve taken a quick peak in the armoury cabinet, we have a few options, but we won’t be able to equip everyone the same way, there simply isn’t enough of everything. The inventory is currently; one Long Tom sniper rifle, one Tribune shotgun and a Fireburst rapid repeater rifle, all electroylic of course. We also have various other smaller devices.”

“I call the Tribune!”

Nick had his hand in the air, the moment that he began uttering the words. He looked for all the world like a child wanting to be picked for the school team. James stared at him and blinked before replying.

“Err... sure Nick. It’s the best close quarters weapon we have so it will be invaluable in there, and I have faith in your abilities. We’ll leave the Long Tom here, it wouldn’t be much use to us inside a building, as for the Fireburst though, that’s definitely coming with us.”

“Ooh, ooh I want that!”

John was waving his arm around in a general, though exaggerated imitation of Dachi’s previous action. Pierce was unimpressed.

“Just for that, I’m putting you on comm.”

Saint groaned, but decided not to joke further. Instead, he dropped heavily into a seat at a station near the rear of the vehicle, touched a power button and watched the monitors shimmer to life. Nick smiled wryly at him, satisfied that justice had been served.

The comm, slang for commander, or the ‘top down man’ had access to satellite surveillance and many other hi tech trinkets. Their job was to help out U.O. officers from an off site location with tactical data about their position. It wasn’t a duty most officers relished, since it was usually quite boring. James began to address his team again.

“Hannah, you take the Fireburst. Bowman and I will stick with standard issue. Now, we need to decide strategy. John, give us a schematic of the target please.”

Saint complied, tapping a few keys. A 3D wire frame image of a building flashed up on every monitor, spinning silently. Parts of the diagram began to light up in various colours, signifying entrances, air ducts and other important information. The team found the biggest screen and crowded around it, pouring over the image. Bowman poked a finger at a duct on the representation of Raptor Industries headquarters, causing ripples in the flat surface of the screen.

“I think this could be a good entry point, through the vents.”

Nick however was sceptical at this assessment.

“Don’t be dumb, they’re only half a metre wide! They’re designed not to be used as people passages for a reason you know. What about through a window about half way up the building, gives us a good element of surprise. It also gives us options on where to go first, since we should be able to get into any other part of the building from there.”

James nodded slowly, apparently thinking this idea through before replying.

“Right, we’ll go with that. We don’t have the time to come up with anything better, so though the window it is. However, that’s some seriously reinforced glass; we won’t be able to simply break it by hand. I’ll have a think about that. Everyone should take a hands free headset while you can, as we could well be splitting up once we get inside.”

At this last sentence, James, Hannah, Bowman and Nick all took one of the tiny devices from the weapons locker and fastened it on their ears. John already had taken one as soon as he knew that he would be on comm duty. No sooner had they done this than the pilot, face veiled beneath a flight helmet turned round and called back to Pierce.

“We’re coming up on the target, sir. Just two minutes more by my estimate.”

It was then that James got an idea. This coincided with his face lighting up and a smile spreading across it. The others that had known him for some time knew what this meant. Generally it would be something insanely dangerous, but highly effective. Assuming it didn’t kill them of course, but then, none of them were dead so far. He walked towards the cockpit, explaining what his idea encompassed to the pilot.

“Now, this will take some careful flying, but I think that you’re probably up to it. We need you to use the rear jets to burn a hole in a window about twenty stories up. OK?”

The pilot might have said something incredulous, had Bowman not beat him to it.

“Are you mad?! He could crash us into the building or any building around there and kill us all!”

James was unfazed by this outburst.

“He’ll be fine. As long as we’re careful this will give us the speed advantage that we need. You will be careful, won’t you?”

He addressed this last comment to the pilot in a half reassuring, half worried tone.

“I… I’ll do my best sir.”

The pilot turned back to his controls, and began tilting the joystick slowly down. The rest of the vehicle followed flying lower and lower. The Falcon was over the city now, a forest of ultra modern glass enclosed buildings seeming to loom up and claw at the jetcopter. It descended amongst them, dancing nimbly between the towers, the forward speed ever decreasing. With another tap of a button, the two rear facing jet engines began to swivel ninety degrees in opposite directions, aligning to the vessel’s left and right. This allowed them to replace a tail rotor, stabilising the jetcopter while it hovered. As it flew sharply around a particularly gleaming building (its occupants jumping out of their office chairs in shock) the target zone came into view.

The Raptor Industries building was an imposing sight, fashioned in the shape of a giant golden bird of prey, wings outstretched. It seemed to be made of solid gold, but actually, it was surfaced with tinted, mirrored glass. The Falcon flew in closer to its gigantic counterpart, its new hovering configuration allowing precise navigation between the bird’s wingtips. It turned out that the pilot was indeed quite skilled, and managed to slow the vehicle to a halt just metres away from the windows in the ‘chest’ of the huge synthetic creature. In the Falcon itself, the atmosphere was tense.

“Steady, steady.”

Pierce encouraged the pilot, whilst simultaneously reassuring himself internally. The vehicle edged closer to the wall, the tail swinging towards the side of the building. The burning fire of the engines licked at the glass, which began to buckle and melt, dribbling down in large golden globules until a human sized circular hole had been scorched into it. The jetcopter moved back from the sheer mirrored surface, safe from what could have been explosive doom.

Inside, the agents were prepared for deployment, their equipment safely stowed on their belts and the larger weaponry in shoulder holsters. They looked the pinnacles of professionalism. Pierce moved away from the metal wall of the chopper and as he did so pulled out a baseball cap from his pocket. The black cap had a U.O. symbol at its forefront and glowing lines streaking back from it like tiny stars streaming past at high speed. He jammed it onto his head, struggling to keep normal balance while the Falcon jerked away from the structure.

Suddenly, the wall that he had retreated from gave out a hiss of escaping gas and slipped smoothly downwards, collapsing into the transport’s underside and providing an exit. An exit straight out to the empty sky below. The wind whistled past at high speed, a reminder of the dizzying height the aircraft was hovering. It was a good thing James had never been one for vertigo. James reached for the roof, right next to this doorway, and pulled out a thick wire, with a kind of grapple on its tip. This was a CDC, or Combat Drop Cable, designed for quick assaults from airborne vessels. He slotted the end into a corresponding cavity on the back of his body armour, where it clicked smartly into place. The other three followed James’ lead, pulling out their own lines. John, still at the comm station offered a few last words before they departed.

“Operation is a go in five... four... three... two... one... GO!”

They jumped. Simultaneously John tapped the face of his watch, which glowed for a second, then began to count upwards, showing elapsed mission time to a hundredth of a second. A similar timer started up on his display too. The CDCs carried them down the five or so metres required, then deposited the four officers through the liquefied gap with a stretchy jerk. The lines retracted, whirling back up to the Falcon by winches concealed inside the bodywork and they were in. Pierce tested the radio link the second he was disconnected from the Falcon. He had no desire to be cut off from the comm at an inopportune moment.

“John, radio test, come back.”

“Received and clear. Your location is free of targets and incidents.”

John used the slang word the U.O. often used for civilians in a danger zone, particularly those in danger of being hostages. James immediately began outlining tactics.

“Nick, Hannah, start working your way up the building. Bowman, you’re coming with me so that I can keep an eye on you, we'll move in the opposite direction. Comm, keep us covered please.”

There was a chorus of ‘Aye sir’ and similar from the other operatives. Saint spoke a little less concisely though.

“Sure thing, switching to thermal filter. I’ll keep you all appraised.”

They divided up, heading in the directions that James had indicated. Nick and Hannah were soon lost from James and Peter’s sight, as they passed through a doorway, heading towards a stairwell. However, it was just a few steps before they too reached a door. Pierce didn’t simply barge through though, that would have been far too risky. Besides, there was a far more elegant solution.

“Comm, spot for me.”

He reached slowly for the handle, awaiting John’s reply.

“Three targets. Positions are one left fifteen degrees, two right twenty degrees and three right thirty degrees.”

Armed with this information and a comm pistol cradled in his right hand, James threw the door violently open. He fired his first shot just as the door crashed upon its hinges, before twisting sharply to the right and squeezing off two more tags at their respective targets. The three, now familiarly garbed men didn’t even have time to react. The three criminals hit the ground almost simultaneously. The two men walked slowly into the office, checking the men for signs of identities or even consciousness. Both were absent. Bowman hadn’t bothered to draw a weapon before entering the room, and coolly walked across to the only other exit from the room, a fire escape staircase as it happened. He took care to step on the nearest body on his way. With hands in the deep pockets of his leather overcoat, he surveyed James’ handiwork, before commenting sardonically on it.

“Is there really any need for me to be here? You seem to have the situation well in hand.”

Pierce rolled his eyes, reminded somewhat of a child wanting to go home. John’s voice came crackling over the communications link.

“You might need him momentarily. There’s two more in the fire escape, one on each of the top flights of steps. I’m proceeding to thermally map the rest of the building, when it’s complete I’ll update you. Hannah and Nick have already cleared a floor, which makes it all the more likely that we will be discovered soon. I suggest you get moving.”

James nodded and turned towards Peter and the fire door, making his way between the office desks.

“Acknowledged. You got that Bowman? You take the top one, I’ll take the second.”

Bowman nodded in indifferent acceptance and jammed the silver fire escape bar down sharply. The door smashed open in a manner similar to its predecessor. The two men barrelled through the door into the stairwell, Bowman’s coat billowing behind him. James’ first stride took him a little to the right of the door and close to the shiny metal handrail that prevented falls to the stairs below. In a continuation of his motion he placed both of his palms upon the rail and cartwheeled over. The lackey that he already knew would be beneath crumpled to the floor as the combined force of gravity and Pierce’s weight crushed him into the corrugated shape of the steps. Without even pausing, James leapt the up the rest of the steps while the comatose form that he had landed on slid in the opposite direction. As James reached the landing he discovered that Bowman had used a far less elegant approach, simply shoulder barging his target into the wall on the landing below the top flight of stairs and forcibly relieving them of their weapon. He also discovered that the IAD man was not as predisposed to being non-lethal as other U.O. agents were. It was the nine millimetre Beretta pistol jammed up against the criminal’s right temple that gave him the first clue.

The formerly masked man looked far less imposing without his mask, and the bleeding nose certainly didn’t help. He even looked a bit scared.

So, probably not prepared to die for the cause then, James thought. That could make things easier. Peter was speaking in a low, malicious tone. The twinkle in his green staring eyes seemed convey enjoyment of his captive’s fear.

“Who are you working for and what are you here for?”

The weapon was pressed more forcefully into the prisoner’s forehead as the words were spat at him. The reply came shakily, but still with some defiance.

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

This comment brought a harder jab from the gun and a vaguely annoyed expression from Bowman. He continued with the questioning.

“I’m afraid that’s not good enough Mr. Hireling, if I don’t hear something better before I count to three I’m going to have to decorate this rather nice building with your inner thoughts. Now, I’m sure that you don’t want that, so...”

Peter left the sentence’s end to the man’s imagination and began counting. The word ‘one’ squeezed out a whimper. ‘Two’ made him cringe and shut his eyes. Bowman continued to smile like a crocodile. It was only when his finger began to tighten upon the cold metal of the trigger and his vocal chords worked themselves up for the final number that James realised that Peter would really do it. He would kill the man simply because he had said that he would. The second that this realisation hit, James was moving, attempting to twist the weapon away before Bowman could finish pulling the trigger.

A single shot went off. James had managed to bend the pistol away from the criminal’s cranium, but it had been a narrow escape. Bowman had been very close to fulfilling his previous words, but instead of pumping lead into the man’s head the slug was deflected, slamming into the roof and showering the three men with plaster. Pierce was livid.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! We do not do things that way. We never kill.”

The barbed venom of his words could have stunned a bull elephant at ten paces. The receiver barely even blinked though, despite the fact that James was still holding the pistol in the air and had now grabbed hold of his coat lapels. The angry stare didn’t seem to phase Bowman much either. Levelly matching the U.O. officer’s gaze, he began to speak.

“The good Lieutenant has morals. Wouldn’t your parents be proud.”

Pierce’s eyelid twitched momentarily before he responded.

“I wouldn’t know, I never knew them. I grew up in a orphanage.”

“Sorry to hear that.” There wasn’t a trace of apology in his voice. Pierce decided to take action before Bowman decided to start firing again. Pulling out a shock pole, he prodded the felon gently and watched the sparks play over his chest. The man looked almost relieved as he slumped to the ground. The piercing stare returned to Bowman. James was seriously contemplating giving him a jolt too, but decided against it since it would be far simpler to keep an eye on him personally. After all, he could be useful if the right occasion presented itself. Maybe.

“If you’re quite finished trying to kill defenceless prisoners, we should press on. That moronic manoeuvre means that they’re bound to know that we’re here.”

In his mind though he continued speaking.

“And now that I know what you’re like I’ll be watching you every step of the way.”

Bowman, oblivious to this, shrugged, and wandered off down the stairs leaving James to follow behind him. Then John was back, buzzing through the earpiece.

“Mapping is complete. It looks like going downward is a waste of time; there’s only targets on the lower levels, guarding key choke points. The personnel from the building have all been shepherded into a conference room on the hundred and seventeenth floor. Hannah and Nick are heading there now, I suggest that you do the same.”

James sighed, and headed back up the stairs.

Hannah and Nick were not having fun. Despite having been the best armed of the team the pair were meeting stiff resistance in the form of massed sub-machine fire. They had taken cover in a chemical lab and barricaded the door. Fortunately, their adversaries seemed to be lacking the explosive capacity necessary to reach them. There was no chance of them leaving without outside assistance. The only upside was that to keep them from leaving, several of the hostile forces had to be occupied stationed outside the door.

Nick pulled out a new magazine of shells for the tribune. Not that he expected to use them for a little while.

“Well, this is fun.”

The magazine slotted neatly into place under the barrel, and a shell loaded with tiny elecroylic tags automatically clicked snugly into the specially constructed breach of the firearm. Hannah, taking a cue from the young officer beside her, checked the ammunition of her own weapon. Satisfied that a reload was not necessary, she propped the Firestorm up against the barricade then settled down next to it, prepared for a long wait.

Outside, there was a shout, various crashing noises and two dull thuds. Somebody rapped sharply on the door.

Nick decided to stop looking mystified and give an inane response.

“Do you have an appointment?”

The voice that returned the greeting turned out to be a welcome one, as Lieutenant James Pierce yelled out.

“Open the blasted door Mr. Dachi!”

“Gladly Lieutenant sir!”

Nick grinned at Hannah, and they began dismantling the blockade.

Approximately ten minutes later, the barrier had been cleared, and the team stood together in the hallway, ready to move on the conference centre just a few corridors away. James outlined the situation.

“John reckons we’ve only got about five more to deal with, and a few more on the lower floors. This shouldn’t be too much of a problem, as long as we play it smart.”

Nick looked puzzled momentarily, then spoke.

“That can’t account for them all. There must have been more of these people, where did they all go to?”

In response, James frowned and began striding down the brightly-lit corridor, his expression not matching the jaunty mood of the lighting.

“Unfortunately, I agree. John?”

The radio crackled for a moment, as the message was relayed.

“Right, I’m taking us up to get a better picture of things. I’ll run a full sweep; sonic, x-ray, the whole lot to see if I can find our mystery guests.”

The channel remained open as John’s yells to the pilot relaying his plan echoed over the link, followed by an increased whirring from the rotors. James replied with a few words of acknowledgement, and continued walking.


“Why don’t we just kill them and be done?”

The mercenary’s voice resounded through the massive conference room, cramped due to the large quantity of hostages inside it. They shuffled about, some trying to look brave and failing, most not bothering to hide their fear, clinging to their equally frightened colleagues nearby. The previous statement caused a few of the office workers to become noticeably paler than they had been a few seconds before. A second mercenary, standing alongside his partner, cradling a new model M-46 auto-rifle lightly his gloved hands replied slowly, as if explaining something obvious.

“Because the Major says so. Because we don’t want mass murder added to the list of charges if we’re caught, like some of the last team were. Mostly because the Major says so though.”

The relief in the room could almost be heard.

“But still. It’s not like...”

The first soldier’s slow response was interrupted by a smashing noise outside followed by a sharp cry of pain. The pair of hired guns looked at each other. Though their eyes were concealed by their tinted visors, bolts of lightning shot between them, as realisation dawned. The second mercenary was the first to react, indicting two other black garbed troopers to follow. They wrenched open the door and charged through in an attempt to surprise whoever might be out there. That was when the strategically placed ETE mines (standing for Electroylic Tactical Explosives) detonated, showering the hapless soldiers with a hail of electroylic tags and causing instant unconsciousness.

Pierce heard this, grinned, and slammed the opposite door open. Two of the remaining enemies in the conference room did not recover from the shock of the concusive blast in time to even react to James’ dramatic entrance before joining their slumbering comrades on the cold steel of the floor. The third and final man was faster though, grabbing a hostage and jamming his weapon to the temple of the terrified looking office worker. He began to give a typical hostage taker’s speech,

“Right, you’re going to let me go and no one will have to...”
James kept his weapon trained, but did not fire. Instead, he indicated the array of windows behind them. The soldier took a quick glance and looked back. Then he realised what he’d seen the first time, and took a longer look. Outside the glass, the bulk of the Falcon hovered lightly, effortlessly. Join Saint sat at the open side hatch, Long Tom rifle cradled in his expert hands. John grinned and took careful aim. He fired twice, the first tag whistling through the air, and catching the captive in the shoulder, spinning him away after a slight slowing when it passed through the glass. The second hit the captor in the centre of his forehead. John gave a vague salute and the helicopter ascended back out of sight. The situation had been diffused faster than it had begun. The remaining agents wandered in a little more leisurely. It was Bowman who commented first, waving his pistol in the general direction of the two newly comatose people.

“Trained in the tactful art of negotiation I see. Guess stun rounds can have their uses.”

James scowled back, but didn’t bother with a riposte. Instead, he addressed everyone in the cramped conference room.

“I’m afraid that you can’t leave just yet. At least not until we’ve accounted for everyone in the building, including those who shouldn’t be here. So, bear with us please. John, you got that update yet?”

John, sounding very satisfied with himself crackled over the link.

“I found them. The building has a massive underground section. It’s not on the public plans, but when I realised that the x-ray scans weren’t penetrating I...”

Nick rolled his eyes silently, obviously expecting John to continue babbling for some time. James interrupted before he could get into full flow.

“All well and good, but what is it, how many are down there and why are they down there?”
Silence followed for a few seconds. Then, quietly;

“Err... I don’t know, sir.”

From the crowd of ex-hostages, a single slender hand was slowly raised.

“I think I do.”

The middle aged prim and proper manager-type woman spoke fairly calmly for what she’d just been through. From her words she seemed English, but the accent was leaning towards the American.

“It’s the datacore. A massive storage centre, containing all the company data and a lot more besides. It’s meant to be entirely secure, hence it being situated ten floors below sea level.”

“Clearly it isn’t.”

Unsurprisingly, it was Bowman who said this. Again, he was ignored as James took charge.

“Alright. How do we get down there?”

“There’s just the one way down; using the secure elevator. You need a pass and a thumbprint from someone authorised. Then in the core itself, the cameras check everyone’s faces against company records. If they don’t match, the security systems are activated. I can’t see how anyone could...”

James continued before the women could descend into babbling about the basement’s absolute immunity from any assault; time was of the essence.

“It seems someone has. Can you get us down there? I’m sure we can deal with whatever security might be still active when we come to it.”

Somewhat annoyed at being cut off like that, the lady snapped out,

“Oh alright, but I can’t see what you could do there. Normally I could give you proper access but with this weird security blackout all I can do is convince the lift to take you down. You’ll be unconscious before you get five metres.”

“You let us deal with that. Nick, toss me that Tribune, I’ll take it with me.”

Dachi grinned and did so.

“Sure thing Lieutenant. I take it I’m staying up here?”

Pierce nodded sagely while answering.

“Got it in one. Look after these people... and make sure Bowman doesn’t do anything stupid. Like start shooting people for instance. Hannah, let’s go.”

James walked up to the wall and tapped the lift call button...