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Unread 23 Jul 2004, 19:31   #1
Planetkiller II
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Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

The all one seems to have been deleted, so I'll make a new thread...

Chapter 1: Scorpian Sting

Harrison U.O. Airfield, Australia

Once they exorcise the goblins from this thing, it’ll run like a dream! These were the thoughts of a man moving at a speed of over 350 kilometres an hour, down the length of a strip of land barely wide enough for the aeroplanes it was intended for. The gleaming black motorcycle sped down the tarmac, engine roaring comfortingly as small hangars flew past in a blur. Its tyres threw up dust even from the artificial surface and a freshly painted Universal Operations logo glistened in the bright, shining light of the midday sun upon the super-bike’s streamlined frame. A serial number painted in a brilliant white adorned the saddle; Pierce – 00129. The vehicle reached the end of the runway, and slowed to a halt. The rider removed his helmet, revealing short jet-black hair, messed up from the heat and cramped conditions inside the helmet and startlingly blue eyes, which seemed like they could bore straight through to a person’s soul. The young man fit the navy blue and black uniform he was wearing perfectly.

Killing the engine, which rumbled away to nothingness, he dismounted, boots kicking up the sandy earth. He was tired from the vibrations caused on the ride and was still sweating, droplets running down his face. The more than warm Australian climate did not help matters. A second uniformed man walked up to the bike, a stopwatch in his hand. This man had been monitoring the bike’s high-speed trip down the runway, and as he spoke his voice betrayed his excitement.

“She’s one amazing machine, yes? That’s your best time yet James. This new model is definitely going to be the machine to replace the Lynx.”

The rider grinned before replying, flashing a jaunty smile.

“Agreed Matt, the Scorpion is really something; those guys at Raptor Industries certainly know their stuff. I wish they could get the bugs out of it though, the acceleration is still problematic, and it still hurts like hell at speed.”

James stretched his legs experimentally to prove his point. It still hurt, but only as the good kind of ache that comes from doing a strenuous activity well.

“Well, that’s our job isn’t it, test it out and report the kinks in the system? They’ll have it fixed soon enough,” replied Matt. His love of technology was well known to James, having worked together for over five years. Matthew Malone had always been technology mad since at the age of six when he took apart his father’s computer and reassembled it all by himself. It was what brought him to the Universal Operations academy years later; the promise of working on the forefront of technological achievement.

The two officers strode to a nearby truck, decorated in the same black liveries as the bike. As they entered through the rear doors of the high tech mobile monitoring station, banks of monitoring equipment automatically flicked on. The interior had obviously been expensive to outfit, since it no longer looked like the inside of a stock cargo container, but more like a plush office. The various screens pulsed and glowed, displaying the results of Officer James Pierce’s trial run on the Scorpion.

“I guess we’d best get back to the dull work now, and analyse the run.”

James flopped into a swivel chair as he spoke, spinning it around in a wearied fashion; it was bolted to the floor, so it failed to slide about under his bodyweight. Matthew Malone positioned himself upon another nearby chair with much less disappointment. His blonde hair lifted in the hot and dry local wind, as a gentle breeze began blowing through the truck’s open doors.

“Back to the dull work? I never stopped; you were the one that got to ride it. Last time too, if I recall.”

“So I get bored easily. Sue me,” retorted James, grinning, and with a last spin on his chair, he clipped on a tiny earpiece and mike and began to scan the readouts of the bike’s recent performance. He looked across to his partner, expecting to find him eagerly working on the new figures as usual. Instead though, Matt sat stiffly to attention, clearly listening intently. He hadn’t even clipped on his headset. Pierce frowned in confusion then asked a question in a puzzled tone.

“Should I ask?”

Matt simply hushed his comrade with a gesture. When he finally did reply, he spoke but a single word.

“Chopper.”

“Where? I can’t hear anything. Besides, there’s no drop scheduled, and we aren’t going to be picked up for a couple more days at least.”

James paused, cutting himself off as the rhythmic humming of a helicopter’s rotors became audible to him too. He continued, speaking quickly.

“Hang on, you’re right. I don’t like this, we’re supposed to be completely alone out here, and we would surely have been notified if the situation had changed. You reckon we should break out the weapons?”

“Yeah. Better safe.”

Pierce nodded at Malone’s concise statement of assent, and ducked under the computer desk he was working at, to grab a matte silver briefcase. The young officer, now the essence of professionalism, fluidly swung the case around and slammed it onto the table. He thumbed the two catches on the case’s exterior open and flipped the lid open, revealing a pair of black leather gun-belts, with U.O. logos for buckles. James tossed one to his partner who caught it deftly, and quickly strapped the other one on himself.

The current devices that the two officers had armed themselves with consisted firstly of one standard issue comm-pistol able to fire off its clip of twenty five variable intensity knock-out electroylic tags in less than ten seconds. It also incorporated a voice-activated videophone. The second device, known to all and sundry as a ‘shock pole’ was an extendable staff, with prongs at both ends able to deliver an electroylic charge to any exposed part of a human body. They weren’t taking any chances.

The whirring of the helicopter indicated that it was nearly overhead by now, and its dark shape was easily visible in the clear blue sky. James stared at the mechanical excuse for a bird, analysing the situation. It was a Chinook dual rotor troop helicopter, which could accommodate many people, indicating that a simple drop or pick-up seemed an unlikely event.

“I’m liking this less and less. How do you want to play this?” asked Matt.

This attitude did nothing to improve James’ original assessment.

“The hangar I think. It’s the only cover besides this monitoring station, and this is far too unprotected. We’d better move now, before our flying friends arrive.”

Both officers were immediately on the move, running the short distance towards the large metal structure of the hangar. They could only hope not to be spotted, but in sunny daylight, the prospect seemed unlikely. The helicopter began to descend as they did so, coming in to land nearby in a rushing of wind and a miniature tornado of dust. The blacked out windows betrayed nothing of the aircraft’s purpose at this near deserted airfield, and the rotor blade continued to spin at blurred high speed, implying that the occupants were intending a hasty operation, followed by a quick evacuation.

Matt and James reached the relative safety of the empty hangar, just as the rear access ramp of the Chinook lowered. From the dark depths of the interior, ominous figures began to file out. Masked men. Masked men with automatic weapons. Their green tinted visors revealed not a trace of their identity, but their military gait, the way they handled the machine guns grasped in their gloved hands, could only be that of professionals.

They fanned out, covering the expanse of the airfield quickly and efficiently. A few strode swiftly towards the monitoring truck, but others moved towards the hangar. Perhaps they had seen the two agent’s flight across the tarmac; perhaps they just wanted to make sure that there were no witnesses...

James and Matt drew their comm-pistols simultaneously. Pierce had holed himself up the tiny office near the hangar door, cutting the power in the process with the switchboard inside it. Malone was on the balcony, hidden in some dark recess. There were no windows, so there was near total darkness throughout the cavernous building. A small steel door creaked, and the barrel of a machine gun poked around the sheet metal frame. A black garbed figure followed it through the doorway, sweeping the empty hangar floor with a gun-mounted flashlight. The figure sneaked forward, the beam of light now swinging around the upper floor like some deranged lighthouse beacon. Several other shapeless shadows moved into the hangar after it. One stalked silently towards the office where James was hiding, searching for any sign of an occupant.

It was at this point that Pierce decided to act. As the figure stepped into the office he slammed the door straight into the man, stunning him and knocking the rifle out of his hands. It skittered across the smooth metal of the floor, flashlight still casting a flickering light on the scene. The suddenly disarmed man staggered a little, but before he could react further, Pierce fired three yellow-glowing electroylic tags into his chest. The target doubled over and collapsed with a satisfying thud, clearly unconscious. Two beams of blinding white light swung instantly to illuminate the scene in the office.

That was when Malone jumped from the catwalk. One of the remaining soldiers crashed to the ground under Matt’s boots, and something cracked unpleasantly. Again a gun barrel swivelled around, but Pierce was already striding forward, his shock pole quickly wrenched from its leg holster. With a quick flick of a button to extend it to its full length, its inner mechanisms complied with their customary whirr. He reached his enemy as the staff finished extending to about three-quarters of his own height, and with one deft movement he swept the feet out from under the hostile soldier. His gun blazed wildly as he fell, most of the bullets puncturing holes in the thin corrugated metal of the hangar walls and roof, allowing narrow rays of pierce the gloom. A single round however, flew directly forwards and struck Matt straight in the chest. The force of the bullet sent him reeling backwards, where he hit the ground with a grunt.

Pierce prodded the soldier with the butt of his shock pole, and electric sparks played across his still unidentifiable body, rendering him instantly unconscious. Without stopping for a second, he crossed back to the small side door through which they had entered. The sound of gunfire had no doubt attracted more unwelcome attention. He flattened himself against the wall, as the door opened once more, and another faceless trooper stepped inside.

James summoned his unarmed combat training from the dark caverns of his brain. The martial art of Kalinova, taught only to students of the U.O. Academy came easily to him and a single side on kick was all he needed to disarm his foe, before dropping into a combat stance. The soldier drew a pistol from some concealed holster, but Pierce twisted the weapon out of his opponent’s grip and dismantled it on the spot. The various pieces dropped to the floor, clattering over the concrete floor, useless. James grinned and gave a full fisted punch to the visor, cracking it and sending the man slumping to the floor.

Pierce turned around to face Matt who, surprisingly for someone who had just been shot, was getting up and brushing the dust off his uniform. He touched the severe dent in his flexi-polymer hard-jacket where the bullet had hit. Though his demeanour had not been improved by the fall, he was very much alive. He grinned ruefully and said,

“Let’s not do that again. Put a right dent in my hard-jacket. On the up side, I guess that’s a successful field test of the new body armour.”

Pierce laughed, and pulled out his comm-pistol again, as Malone paced over, drawing his own weapon.

“Do you think they will come after their comrades here?”

Matt asked, as he poked one of the fallen goons in the head with the toe of his boot, causing him to groan quietly behind the opaque faceplate. Opening the sheet metal door a crack and peering out through it, James replied,

“I doubt it. These guys are clearly professionals. Must be well paid too, by the looks of their gear. I think they’ll be more interested in their paycheques than their pals.”

“Assuming they aren’t after us.”

Pierce swung the door fully open, bathing the dark hangar in light and revealing the scene outside.

“Well, from the look of what they’re doing out there, I seriously doubt that.”

He was commenting on the group of masked troopers who were busily attaching cables from the Chinook to the bike. The Scorpion. His bike, he thought with a sudden flash of anger. They were stealing his bike! As one of the men made a gesture towards the helicopter; clearly signalling the completion of their task, Matt spoke urgently.

“I don’t think we can really stop them getting away with the Scorpion. There are too many guns and too much distance between us. If we could somehow get them all in here, it might be possible, but personally, I can’t see it working.”

“Agreed, they’re already leaving anyhow. However, I think we could give them a decent send-off and maybe add to our collection of reprobates back there.”

James nodded his head towards the various unconscious bodies behind him as he spoke. Those unwelcome visitors that remained had begun filing back towards their transport, its rotors working their way up to a high whine, ready for take-off. Matt couldn’t restrain a nervous laugh.

“True. Who knows, there’s a chance we might even stop them.”

“Let’s go.” called James and together they dived out of the hangar firing. The tags left bright lines of glowing yellow in the air as they found their targets in the backs of two of the rapidly retreating soldiers. They slammed down on to the hard runway tarmac. Their fellows didn’t even bother to look back, but instead increased their pace, breaking into a run towards the perceived safety of their Chinook. Pierce and Malone followed, keeping low in case anyone decided to take a pot shot at them.

The last man reached the ramp of the helicopter, just as it began rising from the ground. The two officers ran, attempting to get to the vehicle before it could leave, but knowing it was highly improbable. The wind generated by the two rotors increased to the proportion of a small hurricane and slowly, inexorably, the machine lifted out of reach. A figure stood by the ramp as it rose and sealed them inside. Pierce thought he saw it give a jaunty, sarcastic wave as the helicopter rose further into the sky. It could have been his imagination, or possibly the fact that the helicopter was by now far out of reach. The cables linking the chopper to the Scorpion grew taut, and just as the two agents reached the bike, its two high-grip rubber tyres left the ground. It dangled like a fly caught in a spider’s web, bobbing in the wind, ascending beyond the reach of either officer’s outstretched arms.

James fired off the rest of his comm-pistol’s ammunition clip at the under side of the metal beast escaping with the bike, the tags sparking uselessly off the armour. He sank to the ground, punching it with fingers curled into a fist, as the helicopter, now little more than a black shape in the sky, receded into the distance to the backdrop of the shining Australian sun. He brought his comm-pistol up and keyed for a call to headquarters. A second later, a tone signalled the connection, and the face of a senior officer appeared on the tiny plasma screen. Matt strode silently by, while Pierce spoke into the device with a clipped voice, unable to restrain his frustration.

“Sir, I think we have a problem.”
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Unread 23 Jul 2004, 19:32   #2
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Chapter 2: A Brief Debrief

Somewhere in Alaska, USA

Incom Warrick, a brilliant American computer hacker, he had an IQ more than a hundred and fifty, was seriously worried. He didn’t like screw ups, but somehow those lousy excuses for marines appeared to have made one. Of course, he didn’t much care for the plan in general, but his own survival, was something that he did very much care about. Well, perhaps that was a little melodramatic, but remaining a free man and avoiding criminal charges had been a serious concern of his since he had begun his more lucrative ventures. The U.O. now had captives and captives produced leads and leads, well, they lead to more captives. Warrick didn’t intend to be one of them. That was why he had contacted his current employer, in an attempt to terminate his contract. He hoped that it would not end up being an irreversible termination.

Usually he wouldn’t even have considered meeting in person, particularly with this person. He didn’t even know this person’s name. But there had been insistence on these arrangements, which was why he had come to this hideaway in this freezing cold place. He walked down the corridor that seemed to stretch; the lack of doors along its walls appeared more disconcerting than it had a minute before. Incom made his way down the hallway, his shoes echoing eerily in the otherwise silent atmosphere. He reached the door and turned its cold, metal handle. It opened soundlessly and Warrick stepped into the dark room before him. The door swung shut ominously behind him.

A voice addressed him from somewhere across the room. It was garbled, distorted by some electronic synthesiser. If there was a body attached to the voice, its face was shrouded in the darkness. More secrecy, even in the heart of the operation, Warrick thought. It might be funny, if he didn’t feel so scared of the people in charge.

“Mr. Warrick. What is so urgent that you required a meeting?”

The remark conveyed either mild amusement, or mild annoyance, the artificial nature of the sound made it hard to tell. Either way might mean trouble. Incom shuddered slightly before replying.

“I... err... wanted to... leave your employ.”

“Are you sure?”

The words were laced with understated menace. The hacker decided it was best not to push it, and just attempted to evade the question.

“Well...”

“Good. Glad you could see it our way. You’ll be leaving now.”

Incom sighed. He was resigned to being in for the duration. At least, resigned to allowing them to think he was. He might be scared, but he was still smart.

“I’ll be leaving now. I won’t bother you again.”

He backed slowly away from the source of the sound, thinking to beat a hasty retreat. Without turning round he felt around behind him for the door handle. He grabbed it and twisted it open before his employer had a change of plan and decided to do something unpleasantly painful to him. He darted through the crack of the doorway and shut it quickly. It barely made a thud. Leaning against the door, he realised that he was breathing heavily and his heart was beating at high speed. He counted himself lucky that there was nothing else wrong with him, and rapidly left the facility as quickly as was humanly possible.


U.O. Headquarters, San Santino, USA

Another man wasn’t too happy about having to talk to his superior. His name was James Henry Pierce and he was sitting in the waiting room at the high tech base of operations for the entire world-wide U.O. network.

The room was simple. Whitewashed walls betrayed nothing of their hidden security. The six inches of armour plating provided absolute safety. There were concealed cameras and remote control electroylic guns operated by the secretary who was seated at the plain wooden desk at one end of the room. Even she was as bland as was possible, with looks that could be instantly forgotten, hidden behind thick spectacles. There were just two doors, constructed in silver metal, spotless. The only real eye catching colour in the room was the large logo over one of the doors and the Universal Operations motto; Carpe Diem Per Omnia Res Aversae, displayed around it in a bold, striking font. The room’s lack of memorable features was not accidental, of course. The U.O. never did anything by accident. Pierce crossed his legs, bored and fidgety from being kept waiting. Something buzzed behind the desk, and the secretary looked up through her glasses.

“The Commander will see you now,” she stated officiously, in a crisp voice.

The officer made no reply, but instantly stood up and walked briskly over to the door with the emblem above it. Though somewhat apprehensive about the debrief that was to come (they had lost the Scorpion after all, despite their best efforts), he jerked the door open and stepped into the office. This room was a little more interesting. It too had but a single desk and a crest exhibited overhead it. The soft, carpeted floor seemed springy and new under the agent’s feet. The walls were lined with a light mahogany panelling and were decorated with photographs of famous enforcers of the law ranging throughout the ages of photographs. The most striking feature in the room though, was the desk itself, which was made of a dark, almost black wood. On it stood a single, flat screen computer and a few personal trinkets. A fading image of a smiling young woman holding a baby, a Newton’s cradle office toy, various bits of stationary.

A man sat behind the desk in a leather swivel chair. He looked fairly old, hair greying somewhat, but still in good shape. His arms rested lightly on the desk, fingertips gently touching each other. He seemed calm, almost serene save for his expression, which was curled into a frown. He looked up at James as he entered with cold, dark green eyes. This was Commander Alexander Nicholas, the head of the U.O. and he wasn’t too happy.

“You know, I should really lay into you. However, I’m not going to. Why, you may ask? Well, because unfortunately, the U.O. doesn’t need it right now, and I do need you. Things were set in motion before we ever sent you to Harrison. Our organisation is about to be put through a major reorganisation. This has been planned from the very beginning and it should help us establish a proper chain of command, something that our current partners system has always failed to do.”

“Well, that’s very nice sir, but how do I fit in?” inquired Pierce.

“I was getting to that,” he said, in an irritated tone.

“You will be... oh, you don’t know how it pains me to say this after recent events, but you will be promoted and put in command of one of the new sections. Here’s where we come to a problem though, as currently we don’t have enough people to fill out all the sections and also, the process will take some time to complete. So, in the interim, we’re setting up smaller units, under the command of their intended eventual leaders, which will be made up to full strength when possible. I’ve asked you here in order to introduce you to your unit, and to bestow on you the rank of Lieutenant.”

Pierce had not been expecting this, and was more than a little stunned by the news. The Commander took advantage of the pause in conversation to hit an intercom button set into the polished wood of his desk. He spoke up to be heard by the hidden microphone system that would carry is words to the reception room.

“Miss Robson, please send them in.”

The door opened once more, allowing the entry of a number of people, seven in all, including Matt Malone who waved nonchalantly at James. He recognised some of the others, particularly those who wore U.O. uniform, but the seventh, the only one that he had no clue about was in different garb. Everything from the swagger in his step to the flowing brown leather coat covering a rather obvious layer of body armour, and including his close cropped military style brown hair proved that he was no U.O. officer. Nicolas began to introduce them one by one, unnecessarily in some cases.

“Lieutenant you already know Matthew Malone, since he’s your current partner. These are officers Saint, Edwards...”

“...Williams and Dachi. We met at the academy. Good you see you lot! How have you been?”

James interrupted, smiling at seeing a few old friends in amongst those he did not know. The pale young woman who had been referred to as ‘Edwards’ got in a reply fastest.

“Oh, we’ve been holding up alright. Except you have no concept how painful it is to be partnered with John for years.”

Her words contained no malice, only warmth. She brushed a few wisps of her hazel brown hair out of her similarly coloured eyes. John Saint, the man standing next to her protested.

“Oh come on now Hannah, my jokes aren’t that bad!”

Everyone that knew John Saint laughed, and another of the six friends by the name of Jonas Williams smiled smugly and commented,

“If they haven’t improved since we left Marita Academy, yeah they are.”

Hannah Edwards quickly agreed with this statement.

“They haven’t.”

“Well never mind, we won’t use that as a measure of your skills, John.”

James was smiling too, for none of the exchange had been serious, merely normal banter between a few old friends. Commander Nicholas was getting rather frustrated with such a young interruption though, and chose that moment to cut in.

“While it is good you all know each other, can I be allowed to finish my briefing?”

Immediately there was silence.

“Thank you. These are two new team members that you definitely haven’t met before. Sarah Ledanex, a data analyst from the academy...”

The greying commander-in-chief gestured toward a blonde woman that seemed a little nervous at being put on the spot after the display of comradeship the old colleagues had produced just a few seconds before. James wasn’t surprised that she was an analyst instead of a field agent, as timidity didn’t tend to be a quality found in field officers. She managed a small nod to the others before looking down at the floor while Commander Nicholas continued his speech.

“...and this... is Peter Bowman, attaché from the IAD.”

As he said this and indicated the brown coated figure, the last member of the team, the rest of the agents cringed noticeably. The IAD or International Anti-Crime Division of the American law enforcement agencies was not viewed in a favourable light by the U.O. Both services had been created at the same time, at the insistence of the Americans that the U.O. not be the only organisation with world-wide jurisdiction. The main problem with this was that in general the IAD didn’t train their agents properly, and was often poorly equipped to deal as professionally or efficiently with the situations that the organisation was designed for. This meant that their involvement in an operation was not welcomed by all U.O. representatives. Pierce put up a questioning hand.

“Sir, forgive my impertinence, but what were you thinking?!” He turned briefly to the IAD man and apologised roughly.

“Sorry Bowman, but as you probably know your employers don’t have the best reputation around these parts.”

James wasn’t trying to be offensive, but the suddenness of the announcement coupled with discovering his first command would have a possibly incompetent member had sharpened his tone. The IAD man spoke for the first time, his voice and attitude matching his previous swagger.

“I believe he was thinking that I could add something to your ahem, team that another of your people could not.”

At this, Nick Dachi, the sixth and youngest of the agents James was already acquainted with, had vaguely oriental features and seemed clearly incredulous at the barely veiled disgust Bowman had just expressed. He chimed in,

“I seriously doubt that. I agree with James sir, there’s no way he’ll fit in with the rest of the team.”

“That’s enough!”

The Commander barked as he stood and slapped his hands down onto his desk. He had gone a vivid shade of red, furious at this arguing of his orders as if it were a democratic debate.

“You will accept this decision. It is out of my hands anyway, so none of us has any choice in the matter. The governmental types want more co-operation between the agencies, and this is how its been ‘suggested’ we increase contact. Now, get out of my office, and get to work! There is a room on the second floor with all the facilities you will need, and a dossier on your team’s first assignment will be delivered shortly. If you want to continue arguing there, that’s fine, but you won’t do it here!”

They left. Matt caught up with James as soon as the group had shuffled past the baleful stare of Miss Robson, the secretary, who clearly didn’t like anyone being allowed in to visit the Commander.

“Interesting bunch aren’t they James?”

Matt clapped his ex-partner, now senior officer on the shoulder. The other members of the team began to filter towards the lifts, catching up with each other in some cases, trying to get to know one another in others.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” James accused jovially.

“I must confess that I had heard rumblings.”

Despite wondering where Matt got his information from as always, James continued his questioning.

“And you didn’t tell me?

“I like knowing things other people don’t.”

James gave a short chuckle at Matt’s last comment and watched while the rest of the team took a fairly overcrowded lift down to the second floor. James and Matt wandered down the stairs more easily. They moved down the gleaming white stairwell, lightly holding on to the reflective aluminium handrail. Thoughtfully, Matt commented on the new arrangements.

“So then, we finally get a reorganisation.”

“Seems so. It was a deeply flawed system. We’ve only just got the numbers to sort it out though. It’s going to be interesting being in charge of a team rather than one of two partners.”

James agreed, boots echoing on the metal steps. Matt nodded and continued,

“Indeed it will. I’m looking forward to seeing how you’ll cope.”

“Not bitter about them choosing me over you to lead it?”

“Nah, you’ve always been the fearless leader type, I’ll stick to my computers.”

As Matt said this they arrived at the right floor and walked in tandem through the swinging double doors. Matt tracked down the correct room by walking around, peering through the small windows in the reinforced doors, then touched the release button when he found the correct one. They immediately discovered that Nicholas had made a mild understatement when he said that their accommodation would have had all the facilities that they would require. A huge plasma screen for briefings hung on one wall; fully functional workstations for each officer, an extensive armoury and more were fitted into the room. In fact, as John Saint noted when the two partners entered the room,

“The only thing it’s lacking is natural light. I feel like we’re in a bunker here. Oh, and I guess that we’re missing a kitchen sink too.”

Hannah swatted John round the back of the head as he said it in an attempt to put a stop to the poor jokes. The others all stood around among the gleaming metal furniture and artificial light, chatting and laughing. Only Bowman stood apart, leaning on the doorframe in a sullen silence. James walked into the room after Matt, took a position at the centre of the room and cleared his throat. As he spoke, the team’s chatter died away.

“OK, let’s have some calm.”

“Yes sir, Lieutenant, sir!”

John stood to attention and gave a mock salute.

“Quiet you. Do we have an assignment yet?”

Nick answered James’ question, eager to begin working as a full team.

“Yes, it just came onto my screen via the internal mail system. We are to locate and apprehend the people who managed to steal our prototype bike, the Scorpion.”

James was about to give out his first orders, but Bowman interjected before he could, still motionless in the doorway.

“Which you and your partner lost, if I recall the reports.”

“Are we going to have a problem here Mr. Bowman? Just because our organisations don’t get along doesn’t mean that we can’t, and since we don’t have much choice about working together, I suggest you take up this offer of friendship now.”

“Well, you certainly wouldn’t want me for an enemy now, would you Pierce.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Bowman?”

“Only if you want it to be, Pierce.”

James could usually see trouble coming a mile off, but he could see this trouble brewing without budging an inch. He knew that he would have to do something more permanent to rectify this later. For now though, all he could do was give him a sharp rebuke and hope that Bowman didn’t cause too much more stress for the team. Before he could do this Hannah Edwards, who had been relatively reserved up to that point began to speak.

“When you two boys have finished your testosterone driven verbal punch-up, could we get on with this briefing?”

James was thankful for an excuse not to start shouting on his first day of proper command and he smiled gratefully at her for a second before continuing.

“I’ll be glad to. However there isn’t that much more to say yet, other than those individuals we did manage to apprehend have refused to talk so far and there hasn’t been time to check where their gear came from yet. We applied for a Class A interrogation permit and got it. Jonas, I’ll ask you to conduct the interviews, since I know how much you like scaring them out of their skin.”

Jonas grinned in agreement and was about to reply, when a sharp tone emanated from the main screen and the Commander’s face appeared on the screen.

“Lieutenant. I ask that you come to my office, we have something to discuss...”
__________________
I am me.
Owner of Colonies: Alsar System , Universal Operations and Inumerable Others
Hofficial HrH Spanish Hinkwisitor and Hofficial HrH Webby Manijjer of the HrH Webby

Horseman of the Psy-Apocalypse - Famine, Psychic Weapons Divison Commander and Tutor of Telenullics at the Academy of Psychics
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Unread 23 Jul 2004, 19:33   #3
Planetkiller II
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Chapter 3: Traitorous Behaviour

U.O. Headquarters, San Santino, USA

“We have a traitor in our midst!”

The Commander’s words got Pierce’s attention. He had been standing smartly at attention in the office, but dropped his gaze to stare at his commanding officer when he heard this.

“Yes you heard me right. Somebody within the U.O. released the location of our Harrison test base, including what you were testing out there.”

Normally not one to be flustered, this time, James was almost lost for words.

“But... how could someone get past the loyalty test?”

“Don’t know, currently I don’t much care. I just want them caught.”

“Why me sir? Are there not people you... ah... like more that could do the job?”

Pierce questioned. Nicholas nodded, agreeing profusely.

“Yes. Many, many others. Unfortunately for me, you’re both the most qualified and most available to ferret out this traitor. Also, though I don’t particularly like you, I do trust you. After all, I saw what you did at Marita Academy, and throughout your career. You probably want to know why I say you’re most qualified. Well, whoever this traitor is, they’re on your team.”

James’ level of surprise rose to epic proportions, and he slammed his palms forcefully onto the official desk of the most powerful man in law enforcement.

“I can’t believe that anyone on my team would do that. Well... maybe Bowman... but still, how can you be so sure sir?”

“Because the message that contained the information came from the new offices of your team, and no one has had access to them besides your team and myself for the past two months. Now, I know I didn’t do it, so one of you must have. The reason I’m letting you handle this because you know them best. Don’t mess it up, and don’t trust any one.”

How cliché James thought.

“I suppose I should get to work then.”

“Yes, but that’s not to say that work on the current case should stop. You’ll have more chance of them slipping up if they’re under pressure.”

“Ok, I‘m going.”

He went, slamming the door behind him. That five-minute meeting had changed things completely. Assuming the commander was correct (and it seemed likely that he was), the entire group was compromised. James wasn’t even sure why Nicholas was trusting him, after all he still had to be a suspect too.

Miss Robson motioned him out, but James didn’t even notice or acknowledge her. Instead, he quickened his pace, moving on auto-pilot towards the team’s office. It took only a minute, but in his mind, thoughts stretched that threefold. He tapped the door release as he reached it, causing it to slide open easily. The scene that greeted him inside was a peaceful one; Hannah and Nick were chatting to Matt, discussing the case in gentle tones. Hannah was sitting on a desk, swinging her legs. She laughed with an innocence James truly hoped she had. Bowman stood at what was fast becoming a usual spot; leaning against the wall by the door. How he could just stand there, speaking to no one, eyes shut James just couldn’t understand. Jonas wasn’t in the room and Pierce had no idea where he had got to. Just another problem to add to a mounting stack of them.

“Alright everyone. Listen up. Matt, care to sum up what we have so far? We should have enough here to put us on the right track at least.”

Grinning, John looked up and interjected before a reply could arrive.

“Actually, I’ve heard most of it. The right track isn’t how I’d describe it.”

James glared in a half menacing, half-amused manner.

“Lies. Matt, ignore Saint’s usual moronic comments please and get on with it.”

Matt nodded and did so.

“Sure. I’ll start with what we got trying to trace the equipment we removed from those we detained at Harrison. There was nothing, no leads at all. Their gear had no serial numbers and nothing has gone missing in these quantities and types in the past five years. At least... nothing has shown up.”

“Frankly, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“Me neither James, but that wasn’t our only avenue of investigation. There are the interrogation reports from the people that you managed to apprehend. Jonas went to do it. The reason he isn’t back yet, well, you... don’t really want to know why. Since I don’t want yelling at, I’ll just say to ask at the cells. You’ll see why when we get to it.”

“Wonderful... I’ll guess I’ll have to find out what’s going on by my self. However, I’m going to wait an hour or two, it sounds like Jonas could do with time to cool off.”

“Sounds about right.”

Matt didn’t sound happy about this. It wasn’t a good sign. The agents got to work on what little information they had available, but there was so little to go on that they hadn’t managed to get anything useful in two hours. James decided that it was a good time to fetch Jonas, since they weren’t making any progress. He got up to tell the others where he was going.

“Alright, I’m going to find Jonas, and as I have a few other things to take care of too, I’ll be back in a while.”

Another sigh emanated from James’ lungs as he strode out of the door once more, sliding it shut with a little more force than was necessary. Long strides took him towards the lift at the end of the corridor, but he was intercepted by Sarah Ledanex, running up from the room he’d just left.

“Sir! Ah... Lieutenant!”

“Sarah, was there something else? You don’t have to call me Lieutenant by the way, only Nick calls me by my rank. Even that’s still going to take some getting used to.”

He continued to move towards the lift, Sarah now keeping step.

“Um... ok sir... ah... James, even. I had a thought about Harrison. There has to be a limited amount of people who knew where you and the Scorpion were, in order to steal it.”

She paused for a moment, as if considering whether to say her next sentence.

“What did you mean when you said you had some things to take care of?”

“Oh, nothing much. To be honest I wanted a bit of time out of the mad house in order to think. I was planning on going to the fifth floor then checking on what’s happening with Jonas. Feel free to tag along if you like.”

They entered the elevator.

“OK, I’ve been meaning to have a check up on our newest technology. That stuff has always fascinated me.”

James made to reach past Sarah to press the button for the fifth floor, but she stretched out a long finger and tapped it first, smiling. The doors shut with a dull thud, and the metal box fell down the elevator shaft in near free fall. It shuddered to a halt after a few seconds of this and its two occupants exited. The tech department took up the entirety of the fifth floor in a single massive workshop. There were no walls, merely worktops adorned the floor, in no particular arrangement. UO officers worked at them, in lab coats and safety glasses. A mass of wires, soldering irons, screwdrivers and various other items littered the place, in a chaotic mass of technology. James recognised some of the devices laid out on the slabs, but others were entirely new to him. The pair threaded their way through the random arrangement of furniture, occasionally flinching out of the way as a spark from some miswired connection crackled in the air. A technician mumbled a few words of apology before continuing to work. Their slow progress through the giant room continued to be hampered in this way until they reached the edge of the room, where they were met by a portly gentleman who just barely fit into his U.O. uniform. His somewhat unhealthy red complexion matched his flaming red hair. He had abstained from wearing a bullet-proof hard-jacket, which was probably just as well, since it was unlikely that he would have fit into one. His shoulders bore the emblem of the rank of Techmaster and the nametag stencilled onto his right chest read Piper – 00087.

“Ah, Senior Officer Pierce... or is it Lieutenant now? You should visit more often, perhaps I could give you more toys to play with that way.”

“Well, that’d be great. Like... err... this for example. What is it exactly?”

James picked up a small device with a speaker on one side and a few buttons on the other. He then proceeded to examine another of the items on the nearby desk, a band of plastic with what looked a like an IV needle attached to it. It was very sharp, and Pierce drew back quickly, a pinprick of blood of his finger. The band clattered to the floor. James mouthed a word of apology and Sarah rolled her eyes, though grinning.

“That’s a voice modulator and that needle you just dropped is a medical monitor. Look, was there something specific you wanted? Only I have to test out this new hard-jacket design.”

Piper nodded towards the wall where a thinner version of the normal armour hung, protected on three sides by some form of thick bullet-proof plastic. He picked up an M-46 from the table and put on a pair of protective goggles.

“Well actually yes, there is. I wanted to ask about the Scorpion. What could it be used for besides its intended purpose?”

“Hmm... besides going really fast? Can’t really think of anything off the top of my head. I’ll look into it for you. I suggest you cover your ears.”

He brought the weapon up to his shoulder and fired a few bursts at the body armour. The first couple of bullets impacted but caused no real damage, but the next ones ripped straight through, leaving neat, round holes and blasted into the plastic behind.

“Um... remind me not to wear that model, Hamish. The design still seems to have a few...ah... holes in it.”

“Oh very funny Mr. Pierce, now push off and do your job, so I can do mine.”

“OK, leaving.”
He did so, Sarah in tow. More gunfire from behind them hurried them out all the faster as the Techmaster took out his frustration on the useless design.

“He’s... ah... a happy fellow isn’t he?”

“Almost as joyful as our dear Commander.”

They both s******ed for a moment, knowing the Commander’s affinity for yelling.

“Smart though. Well anyway, on to Jonas and whatever the heck’s wrong with him.”

They returned to the elevator, upon which they headed for the sub-basement and the cells within. Past the datalabs and offices. Past the vehicle garage and generator room, down into the most secure section of the building. They chatted in a friendly manner all the way down until the lift arrived at its destination with a self-satisfied ping. They came to the reception desk outside the main cell area. A procedure fanatic Cell Sergeant then forced them to use the thumb print scanner, type in a code number and sign in before either could even get past the first security door. Once that was over with, the heavy barrier opened, leading to row upon row of doors that each looked like it could resist a small bomb.

Jonas had been sitting in a drab, undecorated cell for several hours and he was beginning to get very bored. He was also getting annoyed, but that was only secondary. He realised that it was his own fault, but it was none the less frustrating. This was why, when the door hissed open, he jumped to his feet, hoping to be released. He was greeted with the not so smiling face of his senior officer. James bent down and picked up Jonas’ hard-jacket, which had been thrown at the door earlier in anger.

“Jonas, I want to hear this from you, and I want it to be good. I have a feeling it won’t be though, so we’re going to take this somewhere else first. Put this back on and follow me.”

James threw the hard-jacket at Jonas’ chest and walked out of the cell without bothering to see Jonas clumsily catch the garment and slip it on. By the time he’d exited the room after James, he needed to run to catch up with the fast pace of the lieutenant. He hurriedly clipped the seams of the jacket together and tried to be happy at being out of the cell complex. The Cell Sergeant’s glare sucked that away as he was reminded of the grilling that would follow. Jonas left the prison block. He didn’t look back.

James didn’t like it. They wandered down to the canteen, a gleaming place of steel that exemplified the style of UO architecture. Long benches lined the floor from wall to wall. The room was mercifully empty, while Jonas told his tale. James mentioned for both of his subordinates to sit down before he did so.

“So then, explain what happened.”

“Well to begin with... I was doing as you asked, interrogating the prisoner. I just got a little... over enthusiastic.”

“So I gathered.”

And so it continued. It transpired that Jonas had indeed gone into the cells intending to discover the captive’s plans. Things had only got out of hand when the first one he interview flat out refused to respond to any of the questioning or threats. Jonas had thrown him bodily out into the main corridor, drawn his shock pole without powering the electroylic tips and beat him almost senseless. He then rounded out the whole fiasco by using the staff to hold the man a foot off the ground by the neck, nearly asphyxiating him. James frowned on completion of the story, considering the events for a moment before replying.

“You see, I kind of understand why you did it, but really, what kind of insanity convinced you to do it all in plain view of the Cell Sergeant?”

Sarah too was pensive about the account, but asked a more practical question instead.

“Was it worth it? Did you get anything out of him?”

“Not sure about whether it was worth it; I have this aversion to sitting alone in locked rooms, but I did get something, yes.”

Jonas paused for a moment, smiling for the first time since he had been locked in a few hours ago. James was in no mood to be kept waiting though.

“Well?”

“It looks like the terrorist organisation Shadow is involved here, at least in the finance department.”

“Them again. How do you know?”

Jonas’ grin grew.

“I believe his actual words were ‘Shadow will sort you lot, they have all the money, they can do anything they want’, only involving far more swearing. There was some choking interspersed there too.”

Jonas’ usual air of smugness was returning to him now he was free and kicking. He winked at Sarah and began to rise, having finished his account. James frowned, not convinced that Jonas was taking the whole affair seriously enough.

“Don’t be too happy, I’m still angry that you did it in the first place. You think we can do whatever we like to get what we want? We’re supposed to have the moral high ground here.”

He too got up from the long canteen table and Sarah followed.

“You two should get back to work, we still have lots of work to do. And Jonas? Don’t let me hear about this kind of thing again, or I’ll make sure that the Commander has you demoted to cadet.”

Jonas was already leaving, waving at James in a way that no onlooker would tell that he was his superior officer.

“Sure thing James, the subject will never pass my lips or fists again.”

Sarah followed, shrugging her shoulders at James and smiling in a way that clearly said ‘what can you do’.

Just as she reached the door, the loud, repeating whine of an alarm cut through the air from a concealed speaker. A clipped metallic voice, which those present recognised as Commander Nicolas’, yelled urgently over the alarm.

“Crisis Team to the embarkation room. I repeat, Crisis Team to the embarkation room on the double. That’s you and as many of your team that can be spared Pierce, get moving!”

James raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of role, then drew his comm-pistol in order to snap out orders to the rest of the team via the communications screen.

“OK. Since Commander Slavedriver up in his office says we have to attend to whatever this so called emergency is, we don’t have much choice in the matter. However, I’ll make sure that anyone I can make reasonable excuses for doesn’t get shunted off the task in hand. Matt, you’re in charge until I get back, since you’re the computing expert. Sarah use your analytical skills to study what evidence we have and Jonas is on probation, so Matt, do with him what you will. Therefore, that means Hannah, John, Nick and, against my better judgement, Bowman are all with me. Let’s move.”

He was moving before he finished the last sentence, clearly deciding that sooner they did as they were told, the sooner that damned alarm would be turned off. He ran past Sarah, who looked slightly dejected at being left behind, despite not being a field agent, then headed for the elevators. A quick ride in a nondescript lift took him to the embarkation room, a place designed for quick deployment of agents to vehicles, either to the underground garages below the facility or the helipads on the roof. The others had arrived there ahead of him. A large screen blinked into life, with the Commander’s face was displayed on it, looking troubled. His frown increased further as he spoke.

“Lieutenant, we have a serious situation in Metallis City. Your masked friends are causing problems at the headquarters of Raptor Industries; apparently they rammed a truck through the main entrance and took over the entire the building. Here’s the oddest thing though. An external signal overrode the security systems and shut them off, minutes before the attack began. We have no idea what is happening inside the building. I’m sending you in and I expect no civilian casualties. Do I make myself clear? Equip en route, we haven’t the time to waste.”

Well, perhaps this wouldn’t be such a waste of time after all. James realised that this would be a difficult mission, no real intelligence or backup had a way of making its own problems. The kind of problems that tended to get people killed. He’d just have to make sure that that didn’t happen.

“OK, you heard him, take your positions!”

The five agents swiftly walked over to the two rows of sling chairs located in the centre of the room. They strapped themselves in, tough bands securing them tightly in their seats. As soon as they had done so, James issued a verbal command.

“Roof access!”

Above them, the ceiling began to split down the centre, each half moving towards an opposite wall. Wind began to billow down from the hole that had been created. However, though the vertical passage clearly linked the room directly to the roof, the sky could not be seen, just blackness lay up there. Suddenly, the entire floor upon which the chairs were mounted shot smoothly upwards, causing the wind to intensify to gale force levels. The platform slowed as it neared the peak of the shaft, coming to an abrupt stop, not upon the exposed twenty storey high helipad, but in the belly of one of the vehicles located upon it. The interior of the Falcon dual jet engine helicopter that the officers had been deployed to was similar to its exterior; a shiny, reflective black covering a layer of hardened steel. Plasma screens lit up, beaming status of the aircraft from their backlit displays. Directly to the fore of the compartment they now found themselves in, a pilot flicked a switch and the engines hummed into life, as did the single rotor. Once again, the commander in chief of the U.O. flashed up on a monitor. He spoke simply and concisely, the words ringing out in the enclosed space.

“You have a green light. Mission is a go.”

The pilot touched a second switch as soon as Nicholas finished speaking. The hum instantly became a roar and from the rear of the jetcopter two engines burned a fiery blue. Somewhere below their feet, a shudder signified landing clamps being released. The aircraft began to move slowly forward, gradually accelerating up into the deep blue sky. Heading, no doubt, for trouble...
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Unread 23 Jul 2004, 19:34   #4
Planetkiller II
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Chapter 4: Green Light

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...
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Unread 23 Jul 2004, 19:35   #5
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Chapter 5: Into the Core

Raptor Industries Predator Building, Metallis, USA

The lift descended, humming gently as the floors flashed by. James and Hannah stood ready, weapons raised to deal with whatever threat awaited in the datacore. The digital display of the floors ticked by, reaching zero; ground floor then past. The lift dropped through the earth now, deep under the surface. Ever so slowly, it came to a halt. The counter read minus ten, ten floors below ground level. The rock above seemed to press in, ready to crush them the minute that they were unprotected by steel and foundations. The gleaming automatic doors did not open immediately, instead a computerised voice spoke pleasantly to the agents;

“Basement ten, Datacore. Only authorised representatives of Raptor Industries are cleared for access to this level. Non-legitimate personnel must clear the area immediately or security measures will be taken.”

This didn’t seem like a good sign. There wasn’t much choice though. Pressing the button marked ‘open’, James aimed the tribune. The double doors slid slowly open to reveal... nothing. It was just a hallway with a single door at the end. It was undecorated, featureless.

“Ever get the feeling that life is full of anticlimaxes?”

James commented, smiling wryly.

“Not in this job.”

Came the stern reply from Hannah. They moved forward, proceeding down the long room as it seemed to stretch out before them. Their booted feet clinked dully against the metal floor in the silence. Then the sentry popped down from the ceiling, and all hell broke loose.

The first stream of tags went wildly wide of their intended targets. The second came closer, and would have met them full on, had they not dived to one side. Hannah acted first, planting her left foot forward first, then the right about a quarter of a metre up the wall. She pushed off, and using this momentum to propel herself upward, made a grab for the ceiling mounted weapon. The device groaned as she connected with it with a weight that it was not meant to take. It careered madly, looking like it was trying to buck her off, when in actuality, it was just attempting to reacquire a targeting lock. Its low power servos couldn’t hope to measure up to the task, and it sagged in failure. Pierce put it out of its mechanical misery by jabbing his shock pole into its innards.

“I hope that there won’t be too many of these things, or we’ll be slowed down to a crawl.”

He pulled the weapon from the sentry and twirled it round, parallel to his body as it retracted. He holstered it and strode forward to the end of the corridor. Hannah swung forward and released her hold. She dropped gracefully onto her feet alongside James.

“I suspect this door will lead to something more interesting.”

She was correct. Even in their age of high technology, nether had seen something like the intelligence core of Raptor Industries. It was a mammoth pillar of cables and electricity, flashing and blinking, like a weird mechanical creature from a Japanese monster movie. It hummed and throbbed, pulsing power through its wiry veins, forcing thousands of digital requests through them in mere seconds. The pillar stood in the absolute centre of the room. Around the edge of this cavernous space was a circular balcony, upon which James and Hannah stood. Immediately the two officers dropped flat to the ground, for a number of black armoured goons milled around the base of the core. Strikingly, one of them remained unmasked, a stern and commanding figure with a bald head and glaring, fiery eyes. He was a large man, strong and leader-like. It was reasonable to extrapolate that this was the man referred to as ‘the Major’, for he was addressed as such a moment later by a subordinate.

“Major! Major Beron, there’s ultras in the building!”

This was a nickname that UO had been hearing often in recent times. Operatives were beginning to be known by their skills, hence the name. Beron didn’t even turn around, and spoke absolutely calmly with a barely recognisable French accent.

“Alright. We’ll be finished shortly, so it matters little.”

The addresser stood quietly for a moment, fidgeting and silently contemplating a response.

“But sir...”

“How much longer, Sergeant?”

Though cutting the man off in mid-sentence, the Major gave the impression of entirely ignoring him. The Sergeant in question was tapping away at a terminal directly jacked into the core. For security purposes, it was the only one.

“Maybe a minute. This code Warrick gave us works a treat, cuts straight past all the anti-hacker software they have. No way I could have done this on my own.”

“Excellent. But don’t tell him I said that. Troops! Make ready to leave! I do not want to have to deal with the U.O. if it’s not necessary.”

The various soldiers in defensive positions shouldered their weapons. James and Hannah looked on from the balcony. Hannah unclipped a device from her gunbelt; a scatter-bang, used for creating confusion and disorientation. Seconds later, that was exactly what it did. The small sphere arced overhead, bowled from Hannah’s nimble fingers and exploded ten metres from the ground in a shower of dancing lights and smoke, obliterating the clearness of the air, and shattering the quiet atmosphere. Before the sound had died away, they were up and moving, charging down the steel steps with rhythmic clanking footfalls. Somewhere in the fogginess there was the chatter of weapons fire.

“Careful with those firearms,” came the calm voice of Beron before a shuffling silence returned. Then the whispering began.

“Does anybody see them?”

“Hush.”

“Where are they?”

“Did someone get them?”

“Quiet!”

The thud-crack of a Tribune put pay to that and mass panic began to set in, people scuffling around, blind as rabbits in headlights. While Hannah busied herself with disabling the other threats, Pierce strained to find Beron in the greyness. The first he saw of him was the fist that cracked him in the chest, lifting him up and onto his back. The large man then stamped down a booted foot towards James’ prone form, aiming to knock the wind out of him, and with it, the fight. The UO man was better than that though, and twisted away, then flipped back to his feet, instantly with right arm raised and left arm in a vertical guard; the combat stance of the Kalinova.

Then, Beron did the same. This came as something of a surprise to James, who had previously believed that no one outside the ranks of the UO knew the art. He recovered quickly though.

“Let’s dance then.”

He started with a basic overhead jab, aimed at testing an opponent’s defences, discovering as much about them in barely an instant. The clandestine Major blocked it and turned it away from his body, again a basic manoeuvre.

James decided to cancel the pleasantries early, and went on the attack with a flurry of blows, ending with a sideways driving kick from his left leg. These were met with skilful blocks, which while not being without error, were enough to keep Beron unharmed. He too seemed to have stepped up a gear, adding his own assaults into the mix. They continued to exchange strikes, neither managing to land a hit. Such was Kalinova, dedicated as it was to keeping the wielder from being dealt harm rather than harming an opponent. They ducked, weaved and parried; flowing between the motions as gracefully as any dancer, but with intent that was far more dangerous.

The first real breakthrough came from Pierce with a scything full bodied kick that smashed through his opponent’s guard and threw him back into the steel handrail of the stairway that he had charged down a short while ago. By now, the smoke had faded from a thick fog into a light mist. Hannah stood nearby over several other slumbering figures. She readied her shock pole once more. The Major dragged himself upright and glanced around. His gaze settled on the tech Sergeant that had been using the terminal. The man was hiding behind the core, holding a computer disk.

“Time for a withdrawal methinks. Sergeant, the disk if you please.”

He vaulted onto the stairway and began running up it. His subordinate spun the disk through the air. It spun in a small tornado of glinting colours straight into Beron’s outstretched fingertips. He turned on his heel and strode off at a moderate pace but without seeming to hurry.

The enforcers of the law made to follow but were momentarily distracted when the tech sergeant attacked from behind. It took barely a second for them to deal with him, but it was enough. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, the lift doors were already closing. Beron gave a relaxed wave as he ascended out of their grasp. Pierce raced up to the metal doors and ineffectually hammered the lift call button. He stopped and gave a passionate shout of anguish.

“No! That’s twice now! We have to get up there.”

Hannah reached gently out and placed a calming hand on James’ shoulder.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get him yet.”

A little later, the pair stepped out into the ground level lobby. The large hole in the massive glass entrance of the reception area marked the point where the smash and grab raid had been launched. The truck that had made it was gone probably not more than a minute. James, much calmer now, raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll get them yet, eh?”

“Certainly. We’ll just notify Local, and they’ll pick our friends in black up before they get onto the skyway.”

The eyebrow went up just a little further.

“I wish I had your optimism. John, we’re above the surface again, come pick us up. While you’re at it I want you to get onto MSPD and get them to give chase to our raiders. I don’t really expect that they’ll catch anyone, but I’m prepared to let them have a try. Who knows, we might get lucky. Then call in the Crime Scene Team, and we can go over this place and see if we can finally discover who we’re dealing with.”

“Will do, boss.”

James suspected that Saint was giving a comedy salute to his comm station.

“Just do it please. Out. Hannah, tell Nick what’s happening, I want to give the computer system a once over.”
He wandered slowly across the golden marble floor of the reception area, making for the main desk, boots thudding dully on the polished surface. As he reached the horseshoe of the grandiose entrance hall, he ran a hand lightly over its stone covering, made of the same smooth shining material as the floor. Pushing the on button of the security computer, he dropped into the leather chair, vaguely wondering what had befallen the guard that must have been occupying it only an hour ago. The company bird of prey logo momentarily flashed up on the monitor before dissolving to a comprehensive options menu. Pierce tapped in a UO access code, and immediately the complicated security that protected the company files disappeared in a puff of ones and zeros. Still, the evidence didn’t exactly jump at him. James stretched out and clicked his fingers.

“Now I remember why I usually bring Matt along.”

He clicked the mouse on the security cameras icon, and the tiny image expanded to fill the flat screen. A few more clicks started the clock ticking backwards. With it, time seemed to move backwards in a truncated form. The image reversed into the depths of the computer’s hard drive, and a large black van arrived suddenly in the place where a gap had previously been. People extricated themselves from the squat vehicle. Even at the fast pace, Beron’s nonchalant gait was easily apparent. Pierce glowered at the digital Major and increased the rewind speed. It wasn’t long before the van reversed back out of the reception area and the glass leapt back into its frames. A touch of the mouse button froze the image a few seconds before the incident began. James was about to begin playing it through at a more acceptable speed and direction, when his headset buzzed again with John’s voice.

“Want me to stop the mission clock? It’s not like we’re in combat anymore.”

“Sure. You might as well find somewhere to land when you’ve finished the other stuff I asked you to do too. We’ll be done soon.”

“Right. Mission clock halted at twenty seven minutes, thirty two seconds.”

“Good good.”

He returned to the work at hand, lazily swinging his hand back over to the mouse and tapping the left button. The video resumed and the ominous dark vehicle came careening though the glass, shards crashing to the smooth floor in a sparkling rain. Much remained on the reinforced bumper of the van like a thick carpet of stardust. The side doors glided smoothly and noiselessly open along their rails and the now familiar black forms piled out, including Beron. The guard who had been working peacefully at the desk at which Pierce now sat looked momentarily shocked, then recovered long enough to slam a hand onto a large, dangerous looking red button. Nothing happened. From the look of shock the security guard had suddenly regained, James surmised that something serious should have happened. The guard then made a grab for a comm-pistol fastened underneath his desk. An approaching soldier brought up an autorifle and fired once. The security man crumpled.

It seemed that this was not in the plan, for the instant the shot was fired Beron punched the shooter in the face in a bout of pure fury.

“You utter moron! What did I tell you?! What was the one thing I told you not to do if we could help it?”

The man tried to answer, but due to what sounded like a broken nose, the words came out only with difficulty.

“Err... don’t shoot anyone?”

“Exactly! And what did you do? Don’t answer that.”

The Major motioned to another of his troops and spoke, still apparently unaware or uncaring that his voice was being recorded by the cameras.

“Get this idiot back in the vehicle then let’s continue. Get rid of that body too.”

The soldiers fanned out in what must have been their prearranged plan. It seemed there would not be any new information from this front, so James cut off the video.

“Team, get ready to move out, we’re leaving. Maybe we’ll have better luck unravelling this mess back at base when crime scene have pulled every print out of here with tweezers.”

James looked pensively at the comm-pistol that the guard had never managed to draw for a moment, then stood and walked towards the open air of the entrance, staring impassively into the distance as he did so.
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Unread 23 Jul 2004, 19:35   #6
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Chapter 6: Downtime

Commander Alexander Nicholas was red with outrage again. James decided that it must be his normal state of affairs. He suspected that when he went on holiday (though he couldn’t think of an occasion when the Commander had done so), instead of getting a tan, he simply became a deeper shade of red. James had zoned out somewhere around the words “Utter disaster!” or possibly, “You’d think we paid you to let criminals go!” There had been a bunch of expletives somewhere down the line too. James didn’t mind. He would wait until the tirade had finished, then explain his actions. Nicholas’ volume had increased to glass-shattering proportions, so James reasoned that he must be almost finished, and concluded that it would be a good time to listen back in. The yelling subsided, and a more reasonable level of sound returned.

“However, despite putting one hostage unconscious, you did manage to keep them all alive, so I suppose it could have been worse. Still, I think you need a break, nothing too extensive, just some downtime to wind down. To that end, your team is to take the rest of the day off, then come back rested and able to catch these people. No arguments, just do it.”

“If there’s no choice, I guess I’ll have to, sir. It might be nice to have a little time off.”

He left the Commander to a particularly large stack of paperwork that their recent mission had just produced and waved to a frowning Miss Robson. A short walk later, he entered the team’s office to find them all still busy. John was sat typing at a terminal with one hand, the other holding up his head. He looked decidedly bored, as would be expected from someone writing up a boring report about a boring task that he hadn’t even been interested in the first place. Sarah sat opposite at another terminal, in more than one sense of the word. She seemed highly absorbed in her work, eyes gleaming with anticipation of finding some hidden fact or piece of evidence. James resolved to get to know Sarah soon, after all, she seemed nice enough, and they could be working together for some time. He walked in to announce the news.

“We’ve been told to take a days leave after this afternoon’s excitement to cool off and come back refreshed. Our dear Commander didn’t put it in such nice terms, but I’m sure you’ll all be glad of a rest. However, before we go, you might as well fill us in on what you came up with while we were gone, Matt.”

Matt nodded and began to do as he had been asked.

“Well, Sarah has been researching those names you called in on your way back here. Damn good job she’s done too, from just ‘Major Beron’ and ‘Warrick’. I’d certainly have had trouble. Sarah?”

Sarah, who hadn’t even looked up from her work until that point, finished typing in a last command into her workstation and hit return. She smiled for a second, almost nervously, then spoke quickly without stopping to breathe.

“Well, both have... ah... large previous records. I’ll start with Beron. Err... wait a second...”

She ferreted among the stacks of papers and reports left untidy and unfiled on her desk and grabbed a remote control for the big screen. She stabbed a thumb down on it and an image of a bald, calm man’s face flashed up. Everyone in the room knew it. The head began to rotate slowly, giving
a full three dimensional view of the profile. She depressed the button again, and a text file popped up next to the face. A deep breath marked the start of her next river of words.

“This is Lysander Owen Beron, he used to hold the rank of Major in the special commando unit... err... what was it? Oh, I remember, Black Alpha Prime. That’s where he knew Kalinova from, it’s the only other place that it’s taught besides in the academy.”

From the wall, Bowman spoke in his slow, emotive fashion.

“And what is Black Alpha Prime?”

“Some sort of super-secret international hit squad, they... ah... remove problems that no one else can. I can’t find anything on what he did while with them, but as far as anyone can tell from the... ah... blurry accounts of events, Beron left the unit around five years ago. Not sure why. Since then he’s dropped in and out of our records. Recently he’s been suspected to be leading a mercenary unit known as the... err... Dragoon Core. They’ve mainly done work for the terrorist cell Shadow, but not exclusively. He’s wanted for questioning in pretty much every country, if we can catch him, there should be no problems... ah... convicting him.”

“That’s great, but where is he right now?”

Hannah’s practical comment seemed to stun Sarah for a moment, but it couldn’t have been unexpected. She tried to recover, but failed.

“We... ah... don’t know.”

Bowman opened his eyelids, just prove to everyone that he was rolling his eyes. Heavy sarcasm followed.

“Brilliant. Work of genius.”

James glared at the IAD operative.

“Bowman?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up. Sarah, do continue.”

“Anyway, Crime Scene confirmed his identity, so we are definitely on the right track. Warrick though, we... ah... can’t be as sure about. The mostly likely of our options is this man.”

The face seamlessly melted into that of another man, younger, somehow happier. Even his criminal record photo had a happy smile.

“Incom Warrick. He’s a hacker, as you may have gathered, and a good one. He was caught... ah... breaking into governmental systems at the age of thirteen. He was released into one of those plug-the-holes-in-our-security-and-we-won’t-throw-you-in-jail programs. Worked for them for five years, then... err... disappeared. No one bothered to look very hard for him as his sentence was almost over.”

“I’m beginning to see a pattern here.”

Matt’s comment brought a chorus of nodding from the watching agents. James agreed verbally though.

“As am I. I take it we don’t know where he’s been since then?”

“Not exactly. Warrick was found operating in Spain two years ago after attempting to cut past U.O. security. Local arrived too late and he probably skipped the country. Since then, there have been several... ah... incidents that bear his signature. But... err... yes, we don’t know where he is now.”

“Well, if that’s all we have, I think we might as well leave now.”

James sighed and stood up, making as if to leave, but Matt held up a hand, motioning for the Lieutenant to wait.

“Actually, that’s not everything. Sarah and I managed to discover what was pulled from the RI database. It was us they wanted, the U.O. They got as much as possible on our current projects, equipment, personnel, the lot.”

“Why?”

Came James’ quizzical reply.

“Not a clue. Well, no specific ones yet.”

“Well then, I want ideas by the time we get back; methods, motives, goals. We have some time to think out of the office, use it people.”

U.O. Headquarters Training Division, San Santino, USA

The squeak of training shoes cut painfully out through the air. A shuttle flew up into the air, whipped over the net by a supple racket. Matt followed the strike through and moved back into position for the shuttle to be returned across the high badminton net. He exclaimed a few words in time with the shot.

“So then, who do you think the traitor is?”

The passing remark caused James to miss the shuttle completely, racket swishing past quite some distance away from it. The feathered object dropped to the gym floor like a lead weight, bouncing erratically a few times.

“Matt... how do you know about that?”

“I do computers James, logic, reasoning and all that. Someone in the U.O. must have sent that security deactivation signal, and the fact that you haven’t told us means that you know something that we can’t be allowed to know. In turn that means that one of the team is, or is likely to be the traitor.”

Matt moved to stand just behind the serving line, and hit the shuttle with a precision that his physical fitness and years of playing badminton to stay that way provided. James continued the conversation even as he returned the shot, dropping it just over the net.

“Well deduced. To be honest, I don’t have much yet. Did you have any ideas?

The comments continued to fire back and forth in time with the action, ricocheting across the miniature sports hall.

“How’d you know I’m not the traitor?”

James met the quip with an over arm smash that sneaked past Matt’s guard, landing just within the court line and bringing the score to even.

“I don’t. However, let’s assume that I’m not and you’re not, else we’ll get nowhere.”

“If that’s the case, I would venture that we cannot make any logical conclusions yet. You should still suspect everyone, including myself, but not let it change the way you act or command the group.”

Matt moved back to receive the serve, then cleared the shuttle to the rear of the opposite side of the court.

“Sound advice. I shall remember it.”

James returned the shot, and the volley continued for several more shots until Matt finished it with another smash and took back the serve.

“I had Jonas conduct a proper interrogation while you were gone, meaning one where he doesn’t half kill anyone.”

Matt spoke in an off-hand manner as if this could not possibly be a problem. James thought otherwise.

“Was that wise?”

“He was under supervision.”

James frowned at this, but evidently wanted to hear the results, so Matt continued, serving with a quick, short flick of the wrist and continued to play as he talked.

“There wasn’t much more they had to say. I hate to say it, but Jonas’ method worked pretty well. Proper questioning gave us a few actual identities, but I don’t believe any of them are more than grunts, or that they know of the Major’s overall plan.”

Matt finished his speech by tapping the shuttle over the net, drawing a point ahead. James bent to pick it up, then threw it lightly over to Matt, who got ready to serve again.

“Assuming there is one.”

“There has to be. These have been surgical strikes, not random terrorist acts. They’re after something alright. Match point by the way.”

Matt served, but James was far to preoccupied to do anything but continue the conversation.

“You know Matt, I believe you’re right.”

James missed the shuttle again as he said this, since he was not concentrating fully on the game, but on thoughts bouncing around his skull like Ping-Pong balls instead.

“Good game James, but I prefer beating you when your mind’s on the task. Let’s get going, shall we?”

Matt hefted his racket in his hand and wandered away from the court, James following without seeming to have registered that he had lost. Behind them, the net sank into space beneath the floor, pulled down by hidden winches, leaving the court ready for whoever wanted to use it next, and whatever sport they might choose to play. The two friends made their way out of the small sports room, through a small adjoining door and into a larger gymnasium where an array of baby faced cadets practised quarterstaff drills with pretend shock poles. They were being led by an older woman, hair tied back in a ponytail and a super concentrated expression etched onto her face as she spoke to the assembled class who followed her motions with varying degrees of proficiency. She spoke to the class between masterly thrusts of her staff.

“Universal Operations weapons are never intentionally deadly. Most leave their target with long periods of unconsciousness and various minor symptoms for several hours, but nothing a box of headache tablets won’t cure. Their workings for the most part, hinge on the science of electroylics, the art of using electricity to incapacitate without causing massive lasting damage to the nervous system of the target. This allows us to capture criminals that would otherwise have required deadly force to subdue.”

James and Matt wandered surreptitiously through, trying not to be noticed by the class they were interrupting. They failed miserably.

“Mr. Pierce, Mr. Malone, care to join us?”

Both tried to smile, but only grimaces came out. They did not want to be roped into teaching a class. James waved off-handedly and continued through the gymnasium while speaking.
.
“No, that’s OK Captain Taylor, we’re happy letting you train the recruits on your own, thanks.”

Taylor frowned and retracted her shock pole in order to talk properly. The cadets all followed suit.

“I’m so tempted to kick your tail in the name of teaching.”

Having felt the butt of the Captain’s expert martial arts more than once during his own training, James was loathe to let it happen again. Despite having graduated with honours from his Kalinova class and having constantly improved as he continued through his U.O. career, James was still not convinced that he was a match for his old teacher. James nervously replied,

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.”

“Then push off and kindly don’t interrupt my training sessions any more.”

Both backed away towards the exit, stared at all the way by the Captain. She only looked away when they had gone out of her view into the changing rooms. Then she asked for volunteers to help her demonstrate techniques. All hands remained firmly down, and not one of the rookies would meet her sparkling grey eyes.

James shut his locker firmly, closing the door on the items within. None were personal. There were no mementoes of his family, for James had none. He looked somewhat out of place without his uniform, even though he had just swapped the navy blue body suit and black body armour for civilian clothes in the same colours. He pulled on a black leather jacket and smoothed the creases out.

“Same old Elizabeth Taylor, eh?”

Matt didn’t reply to this, but looked quizzically at James’ new attire while grabbing a more normal short sleeved white shirt to wear over the plain, unlabeled green T-shirt beneath.

“You really don’t like leisure time, do you?”

A crumpled photo fell from the pocket of the shirt. Two smiling brothers, a laughing sister and two proud parents. James saw it before Matt could stuff it back into his locker. James pointed at it and spoke in a low, heavy voice.

“That’s why. I don’t have people to go home to. Others do. I can make sure they keep their families when I’m working.”

Matt clicked the metal cupboard shut and spun the numbered dial, sealing it.

“You need a break once in a while. In five years, you’ve not once taken a holiday. You wouldn’t go home at all if they didn’t make you. One night can’t hurt.”

“I suppose not.”

They began to walk towards the way back into the main building. The talk had dried up, and they wandered past the rows of impersonal storage spaces in silence. James pushed the swinging door open and both threaded their way through. Outside, the manic John Saint greeted them, bedecked in a dazzling red Hawaiian shirt that actually hurt the eyes if looked at for too long. He hopped about for a few seconds, then rubbed his hands together.

“So then, now you’ve done all the badminton you can reasonably get away with, boss, where are we going now? Oh, almost forgot.”

He danced off around the corner and bounced back a moment later, dragging a reluctant looking Hannah Edwards by a sombre green shirtsleeve and simultaneously trying to convince her to join in.

“Don’t be such a spoilsport Hannah, it’ll be fun. I know this great little downtown place; they like our lot and the drinks are great. “

Hannah extricated her arm from John’s grasp

“John... I was quite happy in my room, do you have to drag me to a new bar every time we get reassigned?”

“Yes. It’s one of my new resolutions in life: finally manage to get Hannah Edwards, serious ultra-professional U.O. officer extraordinaire, drunk. So boss, willing to help out?”

James sighed; it had been a long day. Perhaps this would be a good way to wind down, but only if he could tone down John’s hyperactive mood.

“I guess so. Is anyone else coming?”

John started to count off on his fingers.
“Sarah’s taking the time to visit her family, they live here in San Santino you know. I don’t know where old brown-coat is, but he’s no fun anyway. Jonas and Nick are supposed to be coming though.”

He looked happy that he’d remembered this information correctly. Matt interjected before John’s bouncing could continue any further.

“You did remember to actually tell them, right?”

John’s blank face would have been enough to answer this simple question, but he spoke out loud despite this.

“Er... right. Anyone got a phone?”

James sighed again, but Matt was more practical, grabbing a slim silver mobile from his inside shirt pocket and beginning to dial a number.

“I’ll do it. They can meet us there. Jonas still has a car doesn’t he?”

“Yep, still has that black Jaguar. But we should save catch up until we get there. Call him on the way!”

John began to dance about once more. Hannah looked on at his prancing with an air of strained tolerance. She looked over at James and commented,

“How did someone with the mental age of an amoeba ever get through U.O. training?”

John pointed a finger upwards and said, sounding like he was revealing a great secret,

“Combination of boyish good looks, charm and comedic timing!”

Hannah snorted.

“And clearly modesty too.”

By this point, James had had enough. He began to walk off backwards down the corridor, motioning for the others to follow. He stopped for a moment to scramble in a pocket in his jeans that he was obviously not used to using and made to speak, but then hesitated until he could pull out a jingling set of keys.

“If we’re going then, let’s go. I’ll drive.”

They went. It only took a minute to get down the stairwell to the vehicle garage where the group burst out from a side passage, laughing and relaxed like they hadn’t been for some time. The voices echoed around in the enclosed concrete environment, bouncing off pillars and reverberating around the various vehicles parked about the place. The pursuit cars stayed silent in their quick-launch berths and not even a whisper came from the Lynxes in the bike racks. James swung his keys around a finger while they all walked away from the ‘company vehicles’ and towards the personal parking spaces where James’ custom-built ML14 Flash-fire saloon sat. It seemed to be waiting to be driven like some kind of dark sleeping animal. From the levels of dust on it, t seemed to be hibernating. John quickly commented on this, skipping over to the bonnet and rubbing off some of it with a hand.

“You do have nice taste in cars James, despite the thing being covered in about three years of grime. You really need to get out more. See the inside of a building that isn’t this one or a strike zone.”

“Thus why I’m driving. Now shift over, the doors open automatically.”

He tapped a button on his key ring and the car obligingly did as he had said it would, both front and rear doors soundlessly shifting outwards from the dark bodywork. The friends got in, James started the engine and the sleek saloon moved slowly towards the launch ramp. On a busy day, there would be a queue of patrol and pursuit cars lining up to be driven out into the street, past the watchful eye of the automated sentry. Its electronic card reader beckoned to all comers, sternly requesting their identification. Luckily, it seemed there would be no more emergencies on that day, and the Flash-fire was the only vehicle waiting to be released into the street. James drove slowly round the twisting passages of the garage, bringing the car to a halt next to the sentry. He wound the window down and inserted his ID. The computer instantly scanned the magnetic strip, extrapolated the data from it and matched his identity to those on file. Having confirmed that he was allowed to leave the building, the computer returned the card and instructed the heavy, sealed launch doors to open. The launch doors could withstand any existing commercial explosive, but their four segments were telescoped back into the roof, floor and walls easily by concealed motors. The loud grinding noise abated a few seconds after the doors disappeared into their respecting recesses. James gunned the engine, and in a burst of speed like nothing the car had shown inside the storage park the Flash-fire shot up the launch ramp. The sports saloon blasted through the open door, sliding into the mercifully empty side road the UO used to introduce their vehicles to the main traffic flow. Its tires screeched as James drove across both lanes and performed a tire-burning skid to turn in the right direction. Another sharp acceleration brought the car back in line with the road, heading into the centre of the sprawl of modern buildings that was San Santino city.
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Unread 3 Aug 2004, 19:35   #7
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

No one?
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Unread 3 Aug 2004, 20:00   #8
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

Will do once I've posted for ICE9 and Twelve and have read all of it. Will take me some time, sorry.
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Unread 3 Aug 2004, 21:03   #9
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

Yeah, give us a break, PK. I'm only on chapter 2 :P

Okay, read now. And I want the next chapter!! You can't just leave us like that. Suffice to say, I liked it. One thing that confused me somewhat...he is told the traitor is in his group because the message was transmitted from his group's offices (correct me if I am remembering this wrong), yet the message was the location of the Scorpion test area, and so his group hadn't been formed at that stage (as our Hero and his partner were at the aforementioned test area). Is this a conflict, or am I just being thick?

Also, and this is just me being curious, what does the motto Carpe Diem Per Omnia Res Aversae mean?
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Unread 4 Aug 2004, 11:54   #10
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

OK, sorry, I should have realised 90 pages takes a while to read

The group hadn't been formed at that stage, but his bosses were planning it, thus their offices had been chosen. No one from the group was suposed to know about it at that stage, but obviously SOMEONE did

The motto (as best as I can translate) means Sieze the Day Through All Adversity.

Did you have any other specific comments or critisisms? I like to know you see
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Unread 4 Aug 2004, 13:05   #11
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

Okay, so if one of the group had found out those were their offices before they were supposed to know, why transmit from there, thus giving away which group they were in? And how did they find out? That info must be rather securely held, therefore narrowing the number of people able to get that info even further. Surely one of those who were planning the team's formation is a more likely suspect, as then he knew he could pin it on that group, foster suspicion within it, etc. Again, correct me if I am being thick. This is not really a problem, just something I happened to notice in passing, but I have nothing else to argue on, so here I go. I achually really enjoyed reading it, and it's shaping itself into a really good story.
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Unread 4 Aug 2004, 14:54   #12
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

Thanks for the comments, after reading that I think I might agree with you that it needs a little more expanding. Some of your points will be answered later on in the story, but I realise that is does look as if the Commander has made a glaring assumption the way things stand.
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Unread 4 Sep 2004, 17:39   #13
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

This is just to inform PK that I've finally started reading.
Sorry I've been taking so long.
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Unread 6 Sep 2004, 14:53   #14
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

*Drops onto his back after reading all everything above this post*

Okay, that's a story... Actaully, that's a very big story. I'd love to see that story grow.
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Unread 7 Sep 2004, 20:45   #15
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

So then, any words of advice or critisism etc. ?
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Unread 7 Sep 2004, 21:18   #16
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

hmm, good advise, KEEP WRITING :P

not much else really, you've got pretty much everything you should have
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Unread 8 Sep 2004, 13:16   #17
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

*Starts a campaign for the next chapter.*
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Unread 9 Nov 2004, 07:55   #18
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

OK. All read. And I'm terribly sorry you had to wait 3 months for that. Yes, definately shame on me.
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Unread 6 Dec 2004, 20:08   #19
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

I haven't read it yet, and to be honest with my workload this week I probably won't, just pointing out (again) that 350kph is only about 217mph, very fast for a car, quite fast for a bike too, but not the massive wow you have it as, the world speed record on a bike is around 335mph which is nearer to 540kph.
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Unread 7 Dec 2004, 17:40   #20
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

A) I said over
B) He's not trying to break the land speed record
C) This is a PATROL bike, not for racing.
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Unread 7 Dec 2004, 23:40   #21
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

I think Richard may have a point. :P

A) You might have said over 10 km/h as well and it's still be a correct statement.
B & C) Then what's the point of measuring the speed of the bike with a stopwatch if nobody's really interested in the time he does on a lap or in his exact speed.
D) What's the problem with increasing to figure to like 550 km/h? It's just the maximum speed and not the speed they would usually be patrolling with. Besides, this is a futuristic sort of thread. Cars (especially those of the wealthier criminals) are expected to be a lot faster than present day cars and as such 350 km/h isn't that substantial on a police or international anti-terrorist vehicle. Also, I believe that even know there are cars being tested in the desert that are (successfully) breaking through the sound barrier. Cars like that have to attain a speed tha lies around 1200 km/h. So a futuristic bike that goes 350 km/h or a bit more doesn't exactly provide for that wanted "wow!"-effect when you start to think about it.
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Unread 17 Dec 2004, 01:53   #22
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

Ironically the fastest street legal bike available today caps out at around 213mph since the mainline producers stopped making ultra-fast bikes due to a lack of anywhere on the road you could ride them at top speed legally. Or, as one person put it "The 200-mph streetbike thing was an exercise in overkill, anyway. Like using a 1500-pound Kodiak bear for home protection: impressive, but potentially messy."

There is nothing technically difficult about 200/300mph velocities on a bike, there is just a lack of any reason anyone would want to go that fast or a normal road. 'Wow' factor is mostly subjective anyway, I know 150mph along the road seems faster than 1500mph does at 10,000 feet.

In the end it's your bike and your story, but the current velocity is a bit on the mundane side to be the main focal point of the design, which it currently appears to be.

Apart from that minor detail, very good story.
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Unread 17 Dec 2004, 11:15   #23
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Re: Universal Operations (Yeah, again, please read and review)

OK, I was kinda tired when I wrote that earlier reply, and I now do see your point. It's just that, it really doesn't make that much difference. I may change it, but overall it doesn't affect the story at all. I just feel I need to concentrate on improving the actual story rather than worrying about what speed I've written down. Thanks for the comments though.
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Unread 23 Dec 2004, 14:22   #24
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Perfect Blue

I'm not sure whether I like this chapter or not. There's a number of issues that may need a little work, but I'll see what you think before fiddling with it.


The Flash-fire sped through the traffic. The light was beginning to go, and the streetlights and headlamps were beginning to come on, cutting through the evening gloom. James skilfully threaded his car around a sports car trying to look far too flashy for its overpaid driver’s own good. He then slid the Flash-fire in front of a family hatchback, the parents in which were struggling with several screaming children and driving rather erratically. Of course his UO training meant that he did this far faster than other civilians would and indeed should do. From the several horns sounding about them and the shouts from John in the passenger seat, others obviously thought that it was too fast as well. At a junction, James slowed down due to the red stoplights enough for John to stop shouting incoherently, and start complaining. Loudly.

“I’ve changed my mind; you shouldn’t be allowed to drive. Ever.”

James laughed, and stamped on the accelerator once more, the instant the lights turned green. He continued the speedy path through the traffic, avoiding all the other automobiles through a combination of good driving and good timing.

“What, don’t you trust me? You said I should have more fun. I am. Just sit back and enjoy it.”

Matt held onto his armrest a little tighter, trying to prepare himself for further turnings and swerves. Hannah just smiled serenely. John did not agree and said so, albeit under his breath.

“Yeah, while we’re still alive.”

It was lucky it was a short trip, for while the manoeuvres James was making seemed more dangerous than they really were, it would have been quite embarrassing if UO officers had been pulled over by local police for speeding.

“Now then, where exactly is this place we’re going to?”

Hannah smiled some more as John said, rather surprised;

“You mean you’ve been driving this fast and you don’t know? Never mind. Take the first right off main street and go down there until you see...”

He was cut off as James weaved between two more cars, then dived right through two lanes of traffic to speed into the side road John had mentioned. Everyone was thrown to the right by the centrifugal force, except Matt, who had been holding on so tightly that he didn’t move at all. The car continued at breakneck speed down the smaller road, nipping easily around the only other car on the road, even though it was coming from the opposite direction.

“On the left, it’s just here!”

James seemed to ignore this instruction completely, and swung the steering wheel sharply to the right, causing the nimble vehicle to go into a spin. After a few seconds of smoking tyres, glowing brakes and general confusion, the car came to a halt, neatly parked between two others, nestling a few centimetres from the curb. It was a few moments before anyone spoke. It was Matt that finally managed it, undoing his safety belt and leaning forward so he could speak quietly.

“You’re a dangerous man, James.”

James didn’t reply, but just turned off the ignition and opened the driver’s door. The others followed suit, somewhat shakily.

“Did I get the right place?”

He pointed at the sign above the entrance to the building he’d parked in front of. Despite it being in large blue glowing neon lettering, the words ‘Perfect Blue’ seemed somehow more subtle than you might expect. Perhaps it was because they weren’t flashing. John nodded and pushed open the door. The atmosphere that radiated from the doorway was warm and inviting. James caught the sound of jaunty music, nothing too loud or pumping, but just catchy enough to be welcoming. The off-duty officers entered the place as people. There was the soft click of pool balls from a table in the corner and the low chatter of friends could be heard.

“Nice.”

James said, genuinely surprised. John grinned and clapped his hands together.

“Well then, grab us a table, and I’ll grab us some drinks. What’ll everyone have?”

The group sat down with multiple scrapings of chairs. It wasn’t long before John returned with their orders and they were deep in discussion about everything that had happened to them since their Marita Academy days. Matt and Hannah carefully steered the conversation away from talking about the current case. Just when they were beginning to collectively wonder where Nick and Jonas had got to, the front door opened and the both wandered in, looking about for their friends. Nick spotted the group and gesticulated in their direction, pulling Jonas over with him. Jonas in turn walked up to the table the others were sitting at and pointed a finger at Matt accusingly.

“Those directions were rubbish!”

Nick immediately stepped in to defend Matt’s guidance.

“To be fair, you were just rubbish at following them. Like on that turn, I must have said the third on the right at least three times, but would you listen? No, of course you...”

Jonas cut him off before he could finish.

“Well... never mind about that, the point is that it took ages to get here.”

“How about you just shut up and get a drink?”

James took a sip of his own as he gave this offhand remark. Jonas cocked his head to one side, as if thinking about it.

“You know what James? I like that idea.”

The conversation switched to focus on the two new arrivals. It was quite some time before any of them thought about anything more than how on their last assignment in Africa had led to Jonas and Nick hiding in a bunker for several days. The local militia tried to hunt down the people who had arrived from apparently nowhere and arrested their chief. The U.O. code of jurisdiction technically reached across the entire globe, but that didn’t mean that everyone appreciated the letter of the law being meted out to them, especially in less stable regions.

After a while, James went to the bar for another round of drinks. The entire length of it was elegantly styled in real mahogany. Unusual that, you didn’t see real wood often anymore, not with recent restrictions on logging. Mostly people went for the cheaper wood-reconstitutes, they didn’t look half as nice, or even last as long but they certainly had been one of the deciding factors in the regeneration of the planet’s natural world. Obviously, the owner of this bar valued quality, if he was prepared to spend this much. James picked up the tray of orders from the smartly dressed barman. Turning, James decided that upon reflection, John had made a good choice in Perfect Blue. It was, appropriately, a perfect place to discuss things quietly with friends. It was exactly what they needed. He walked back towards the table, noticing on the way that the people who had been using the pool tables had decided to leave. Placing the tray down, he addressed the group.

“Anyone want to play a few rounds?”

James expected Matt or John to volunteer, but unexpectedly, Hannah stood.

“I’ll take you on James. With John dragging me to a new place every time we go somewhere new, I’ve become pretty proficient with a cue.”

Though this was at odds with the all business Hannah James had known as a cadet a few years ago, he enjoyed her company enough to want to see just how much she had improved. At the time James had been very close to agreeing with her strict regime of denying herself fun in order to train and study, but now, he probably would not feel the same way. He was glad she had softened somewhat, it made for a better team, as well as simple personal interaction. James smiled, walked over to the pool table and began to rack up the balls. He noticed that the balls weren’t American spots and stripes, but British reds and yellows. It was unexpected, but to James it was a nice reminder of his home country. Hannah had chosen a cue from the wall by the time James finished racking up and walked over to the table, running a slim hand across the green baize as she took a sight along the cue’s length.

“You don’t mind if I break now do you?”

“Of course not, chivalry isn’t quite dead you know.”

James smiled. So did Hannah, as she poked him in the chest with the end of the cue. James reeled in mock pain, as Hannah placed the white ball carefully behind the line, sighted for a moment and hit it into the pack. The reds and yellows scattered, bouncing off the cushions randomly. A couple of balls sank into the pockets with dull thunks. Hannah smiled again, and began to chalk the cue.

After sinking several more reds, including a tricky pot into a side pocket, Hannah missed a long shot, watching as the balls came to a halt.

“Nice work, I’ll be struggling to catch up from here.”

James surveyed the table, noting how the white had ended up inconveniently behind a clutch of Hannah’s reds.

“I know I’m supposed to be keeping off the subject, but I can’t help thinking about what’s been going on. What’s your opinion on how the Dragoons got into the Raptor Industries building?”

“James...”

“Okay, okay.”

James hit the cue ball, deflecting off two cushions and into his yellow. It rolled towards the centre pocket, but went just wide, deflecting slightly off the rim. Hannah moved up to the table.

“Seriously though, if years with John as my partner has taught me anything, it’s that occasionally you need a break. Whatever you were going to ask, ask me again tomorrow, but for now, no work talk.”

“Alright, fair enough. Though, during that little speech, you seem to have forgotten that it’s your shot.”

Hannah smiled, satisfied that her message had got across, and settled into position to sink another ball. Just as the ball powered into the pocket, the door to the street banged open. The slam was enough to make most people look round to see who it was. In fact, it was several people. They looked like they had wandered in expecting something else, as their armbands attested. In recent times, most of the slowly dwindling gang population had taken to wearing armbands and other items with their personal symbols on, so they could identify one another. These wore the red hammer of the Soviets; nothing to do with communism, when first formed their leader at the time had simply liked the name. Perfect Blue did not seem like the kind of place these people would like, and with six U.O. officers inside, this was more or less guaranteed. For the moment at least though, it seemed they didn’t want trouble, as they just took seats. Admittedly, it was with a lot more rattling and loud voices than was necessary but James at least, knew that he could put up with that. Hannah frowned, lining up her next shot on her last red, while keeping half an eye on the newcomers. It seemed that half an eye wasn’t enough to remain concentrated on the game and she missed, motioning for James to continue. He was about to do so, when a gang member drunk his drink in about two seconds and strode over, with a look intended to menace on his face. The member didn’t look too intelligent, what with the hammer tattoo on his forehead and a near gorilla-like gait. James decided that Hannah could handle the modern-day Neanderthal with ease, and played his shot. The Soviet walked up to Hannah, who began to lean unconcernedly on her cue. The man spoke with an obviously practised sneer.

“You and your boyfriend should get lost. We want the table.”

“Sorry, we’re using it. Perhaps a bit later?”

Hannah didn’t really expect that to be it, but felt that the sensible approach had to be tried.

“Look, sweetheart don’t you know who we are? We’re the Hammers, you don’t want to mess with us.”

“And you don’t know who we are. Can you guess? I’ll tell you. We are the wrong people to pick on. So, are you going to take a hint, or is that hammer on your forehead digging into your brain? The table’s in use.”

The thug scowled for a moment, then as if suddenly getting an idea, leered at Hannah.

“And what about you girlie, are you in use?”

“Push off, low-life.”

After this to the point response, Hannah turned back towards the table. That was an error. As she looked away, there was a short sharp click, as a flick knife was opened. Hannah never got to find out quite how much trouble she was in, since as the Hammer was reaching for her, James broke his pool cue over the man’s head. Hannah swivelled to find James standing over the splayed out form of her attacker. As the other gang men saw what had happened, and pushed their chairs over in their hurry to get revenge, James looked at the splintered end of the cue, then at the approaching foes.

“Note to self: pool cues aren’t shock poles.”

“No, but this is!”

The exclamation came from Jonas, who was already standing at the opposite end of the pool table to James and Hannah. Too far away to reach them before the now inevitable fight began. From his leather coat, he pulled the short metal cylinder of a shock pole. Jonas threw his arm out, casting the unexpanded shock pole down the length of the pool table’s edge. It spun over and over, creating a swift grinding noise of metal on metal until it landed in James’ outstretched hand. James smiled as he pressed the activation stud, spinning it into a horizontal position, just in time to meet the two men trying to charge him down with the fully extended pole. He jammed the staff into their necks, ducked under it while still holding on to it, and side kicked a third man. As the shock pole began to fall, James spun around and caught it on the tip of his boot. He flicked the weapon up, grabbed it and whirled it into one last gang member, where it discharged yellow-gold sparks from its end prongs. The two he had clothes-lined to begin with were starting to get up, but James brought them back down again quickly. The first with an electroylic uppercut, and the second when James twisted round and drove the end of the shock pole into the man’s stomach. He deactivated the weapon and surveyed the wreckage as it collapsed into its compact form.

“Anyone got their badge with them?”

James referred to the U.O. logo usually attached to an officer’s gunbelt. It was able to keep a log of who was arrested by what officer. Everybody felt around in their pockets, but came up blank, all except Nick, who produced his badge and moved over to the group of bodies.

“Say cheese.”

He held the badge in front of the man’s face for a moment, squeezing a button on its side. With a photographic flash, the man’s likeness was taken and transferred to the U.O. database, ready to be logged in with his crimes when Nick returned to headquarters. The barman was looking on at the scene with an expression of utter amazement. Matt saw it, looked at the broken cue and decided to speak up.

“Don’t worry, we’ll pay for the damage.”

This didn’t seem to put the barman’s mind at rest though.

“Aren’t you going to read them their rights?”

Matt stared at him for a moment, but realised that even though that technically they didn’t have to tell them their rights, it was probably best to keep appearances up for the service’s sake.

“Fair enough. You have the right to remain unconscious. Anything you can’t say can’t really be used in evidence. Therefore, you’re nicked.”

Appearances didn’t have to be too officious looking after all. Hannah was looking at the shock pole as James gave it back to Jonas.

“You’re not supposed to have that.”

Jonas stowed the close combat weapon back in his inner coat pocket as he replied.

“You’d maybe prefer to have a knife in your back?”

“You exaggerate. And regulations clearly state...”

Hannah’s comments were cut off when James interjected.

“Enough. I think this would be a good point to call it a night. I think the powers that be might have been giving us a hint with these lot.”

That was enough. Though there were still a few more minutes while the group wound down, and Nick dragged the unconscious arrestees outside to wait for a transport wagon. It wasn’t long though before each of them left to go their separate ways, Nick to check in the prisoners, some to off-base apartments, some, like James to their quarters at U.O. central. They said their goodbyes and departed, not realising, as they found sleep quickly, how soon it would be before they would be wide awake once more.
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