Welcome

Hello. Welcome.

For those coming from my other blog, or those who know my other blog, or those who don’t know me at all… This will be different.

Allow me to explain. I’m a really bad blogger. I never post anything.

In an attempt to be a better blogger I have prepared a collection of posts to, um, post. What will follow for the next 8 or so months is a series of weekly posts. I guarantee this.

“But Jonathan, how can you guarantee that. You said yourself that you are a really bad blogger.” You ask.

I guarantee it because I have written all the posts already. Moreover I am letting wordpress publish them. Sure, it took me 9 months to do it, but at least you get constant content from me.

“What kind of content are we talking about here?” You ask.

Fiction. What will follow is a collection of 30 short stories. One a week, every week. (Two week break in the middle, just to tease you.)

“What kind of fiction?” You ask.

Mostly science fiction. All of the stories eventually tie in together, and all take place in the same continuum. That said, the stories do not necessarily happen in chronological order. My goal was to write for all audiences. I would say that Young Adult is probably the best category to put it in.

“What?” You ask.

Think of it as one story told in a really poor manner. (Don’t worry, I tried pretty hard to complete stories in a manner that makes sense.) Each story has a title that somewhat outlines where things belong as far as chronological order goes.  Language is kept to PG (some possible Pg-13 acronyms, but no harsh language.)  The content does occasionally get a little violent, probably again around a PG-13 level.

What I have is 30 stories: 32 weeks of content. I also have 7 supplemental articles explaining things. Think of it as a companion encyclopedia. These will be spread through the content as I feel they fit best. (Please note: I define “best” however I like. I’m a bad blogger after all.) These articles will tend to state facts that exist in my mind but did not make it into any story. I will try to not repeat facts. Said supplemental content will be posted 3 days after a normal post.

“Thirty stories.” You state.

Yep. The plan is to start writing another batch immediately. If all works out, I should start another batch of stories one year from the date the first one goes up.

“And what is that date?”

Please refer to the timeline below.

09/27/2011 A Journal Part One

10/04/2011 The Mission Part One

10/11/2011 A Journal Part Two

10/18/2011 The Mission Part Two

10/25/2011 The Mission Part Three

10/28/2011 Supplemental 1

11/01/2011 A Journal Part Three

11/08/2011 The Mission Part Four

11/15/2011 The Mission Part Five
11/18/2011 Supplemental 2

11/22/2011 The Mission Part Six

11/25/2011 Supplemental 3

11/29/2011 The AI

12/06/2011 The Mission Part Seven

12/09/2011 Supplemental 4

12/13/2011 A Strange Visit

12/20/2011 The FBI (Part 1)

12/27/2011 The FBI (Part 2)

01/03/2012 Break

01/10/2012 Break

01/17/2012 The Mission Part Eight

01/24/2012 The Mission Part Nine

01/27/2012 Supplemental 5

01/31/2012 The Mission Part Ten

02/07/2012 The Mission Part Eleven

02/14/2012 The FBI (Part 3)

02/17/2012 Supplemental 6

02/21/2012 The Corrupt One (Part 1)

02/28/2012 The Corrupt One (Part 2)

03/02/2012 Supplemental 7

03/06/2012 <Spoiler>

03/13/2012 <Spoiler>

03/20/2012 <Spoiler>

03/27/2012 <Spoiler>

04/03/2012 <Spoiler>

04/10/2012 <Spoiler>

04/17/2012 <Spoiler>

04/24/2012 <Spoiler>

05/01/2012 <Spoiler>

05/08/2012 <Spoiler>

The Corrupt One (Part 1)

“Alright Gentlemen. Welcome back. I trust that you enjoyed your leave?”

“It was .. .. ..”

“Glad to hear it. Now. Down to business. We have a new assignment for you. This one should be smaller in scale, and quicker to complete than your last one was. That said, if you take three months to complete this assignment then we will have an issue on our hands.”

“A full briefing will be made available to you shortly. In the meantime I will give a rundown on the facts and answer any questions that you may have at this time.”

“As you may or may not be aware, tensions have been on the rise with the Korvan Union for the last several years. War is coming, and we can only hope to be the better prepared for it. In light of these facts, several years back we installed several orbital facilities inside Union Space.”

“These bases are well hidden, and to date none have been discovered. However, last night we lost contact with our forward most base. Our camera systems are still online within the base, and we have concluded that a small Korvan Strike Force has infiltrated the base. For the moment this is only a mild concern. While multiple bases exist, they operate independently of each other, and do not contain information of the other bases.”

“Your mission is to infiltrate the base and prevent the Strike Force from returning to Korvan. Moreover, we need to ensure that any tech aboard the base does not fall into Korvan hands. Now. At this time do you have any questions?”

“Admiral: How many Alliance personnel were on the base?”

“The base was staffed by roughly 70 personnel. We are unaware if they were killed or taken as prisoners.”

“Who was the head of operations at this base?”

“Admiral Titus Kenen was in charge of the base.”

“What is the size of the Korvan Strike Force?”

“We do not have an exact count at this time, but our best estimates range from 70 to 100 men.”

“How deep within Korvan Space is this base?”

“Unfortunately this is our forward most base. It orbits the same star as the planet Korvan does. Much like the Sol system, the Korvan system has an asteroid belt, in this case it lies between the 6th and 7th planets. The base is buried deep within one of the larger asteroids.”

“And how do you propose that we cross the majority of hostile space without provoking conflict?”

“In most cases I would leave these details up to you. However, in this case such issues were considered during the construction of the base. The MISAT Offices were kind enough to share their portal technology with us. There is a remote activated unit inside an unmapped room inside the base. Furthermore, through the use of your MPAD technology this room does not have a door. A section of wall is controlled by a MPAD system. Personnel need to carry a small transmitter in order to phase through the wall. Of course you will not need the transmitters due to the MPAD technology built into your suit.”

“Can we have access to the video footage?”

“Not at this time. We do not want it falling into civilian hands or reaching the press.”

“Shall we bring back prisoners?”

“Preferably not.”

“Kill them all?”

“I will opt to not answer that question. The base is rigged with a self destruct mechanism. Feel free to use it. I do ask that personally see to it that the leader of the Strike Force dies.”

“Assuming that there are no more questions at this time, I will dismiss you to discuss your battle plans. A complete map of the station has been transferred to your AI as well as an outline of our meeting.”

Supplemental: Planets and Systems

An exert from “A guide to the 27th Century” Chapter 5: Planets and Systems.

To best understand the planetary systems and naming schemes of the 27th Century, it is best to start at the beginning.

Start: 23rd Century.

The discovery of FTL travel, development of effective sublight engines, shielding technologies, etc. allowed for the first colonies to be built within the Sol System.

First the Moon, then Mars, Venus, Titan, Ganymede and Pluto.

From here it became necessary to travel outside our solar system. A number of planets were know to exist, and therefore one was chosen. Trinity as it was named, turned out to be a poor choice. Nevertheless, a colony was built. Nothing else in the Trinity System was worth the time, therefore we moved on.

Our second planet turned out much better. Grace had a breathable atmosphere and plant and animal life. On Grace it was not necessary to build domed cities. Grace quickly overtook the moon as far as population is concerned.

With two large population centers, the speed of expansion increase dramatically. Some 300 planets now have colonies on them, some with thriving populations, some with automated mining equipment.

Most notably are the following:

Gorjabn *

At some point someone discovered Gorjabn. Gorjabn is the second closest Earth thus discovered. It was not however selected for colonization. Instead a religious branch broke off from humanity and built their home there. Today, Gorjabn is a thriving population center.  The Gorjabnian stance is one of absolute minimal contact with the outside universe.  As far as much of the universe is concerned, Gorjabn is a no travel zone.

Trabak, Iapetus IV, Bэbujcni and Warra IX

Trabak, Iapetus IV, Bэbujcni and Warra IX are a few planets that were deemed suitable for Terraforming. These planets are a part of the Terran Alliance and sustains a breathable atmosphere and Earth-like flora and fauna.

It should be noted that the tradition of taking your planet name as a last name originated on Trabak. Trabak originally housed a single colony, and therefor names such as Fletcher of Trabak, the Terran Alliance Prime Minister, would indicate that he was born in the colony of Trabak. Now that Trabak is a planet of 9.5 million humans, the name is indicative of what city a person was born in. In the case of the Prime Minister: Trabak City, Trabak.

Vineyard

Vineyard was actually nothing more than a rock floating in space. The planet had no redeeming qualities. It was noted in the initial scouting that the planet orbits within the “life zone” around O’Donogh. It was also noted that the planet has a healthy stable orbit and has no moons.

Silias Bastion, a millionaire from MarsColIV, filed a claim for the planet and reportedly paid some ridiculous sum of $.001 per acre, a sum of some one hundred and twenty million dollars. Bastion was apparently a large scale planner. He traveled to the planet, bringing with him some 12 million tons of manure and compost. Initially he activated a single atmosphere shield and began the hard work of reshaping the surface of the planet. After twenty years he planted his first vineyard on the planet. The first bottles of wine shipped out five years later.

Unfortunately, Bastion never got to enjoy the fruits of his labor, passing away shortly before the first crop. In his will he left explicit instructions to his children, grandchildren and on down the line. Since then, his descendants have continued to ship in compost and manure and expand the extent of the atmosphere shields. Sixty years ago they stopped importing compost and manure, and instead started to export the very goods they had consumed for the last 160 years.

Within the last decade the atmospheric shields have extended to the point where the completely enclose the planet. Currently the shields are expanding higher and higher from the surface of the planet. The goal is to have an atmosphere fully held in place by the planets gravity within the next decade.

Vineyard is now currently the most Terraformed planet in the known universe, and holds the record for lowest cost. Silias Bastion proved that it is possible to Terraform a planet at low cost, albeit at the cost of time. Rumors exist that the governments of the Korvan Union and the Terran Alliance are currently researching possible planets to try a similar process on.

Vineyard holds records for wine production, compost production, manure production, and numerous awards for the amazing wine they produce on a yearly basis.

The Vineyard Planetary Council is governed by a descendant of Silias Bastion, and the planet is ruled using his will as a constitution. The planet operates completely independent of all other governments as an independent government. Special arrangements have been made with all major governments to limit import and export taxes in exchange for access to the many resources that the planet produces each year.

Korvan

Planet Grace was renamed following the Succession of 2531.

*Please note that this information is no longer accurate following the terrorist incidents and political restructuring of 2613-2614.

The FBI (Part 3)

December 07, 2093 22:04

I felt the bullet go clean through my heart. I felt it get stuck between two ribs. Then the pain hit me. I fell to the ground, blood oozing from the new hole in my chest. As I lay there I felt the wound start to close over. My heart started up again and my blood pressure returned to normal. Near normal anyway. After such a major injury it would take several days for my body to balance out. Not bad compared to how many people die from getting shot.

After a minute I slowly rose. When no more gunshots came I moved over to the Agent I had come with. He had taken a round to the shoulder and had passed out. I looked around, searching for some cover to use. He needed first aid. We both needed a beer. His needs came first. In a case such as this it is necessary to move quickly, and so I carefully grab him under both armpits and drag him across the floor behind some metal crates.

Unfortunately we are both carrying guns, not first aid kits. I use my knife and my already blood soaked jacket to make some bandages. I have two problems here. He is seriously injured, and I am not. Not anymore, but my shirt and jacket are already covered in blood. My blood. I move quickly and efficiently to get his wound covered and pressure on it. Feeling around his shoulder and back I search for an exit wound. Not finding one I sit him up and lean him against the crate. I don’t see any blood on his back. My hands are now covered with his blood. I wipe it off on my shirt, making a point to spread mine around trying to make it look like it was all his. It’s not as convincing as I would like.

The sudden movement brings him back to consciousness. I see a grimace of pain echo across his face. Time is running out. Shock will shut him down any minute now. By the look on his face he knows it too. He reaches up and grabs the wad of cloth over the shoulder wound and then lies back down. I grab a small box and use it to elevate his feet. As I turn back I see him pull his cell phone out and dial.

“This is agent Peter Golden. We found the kidnappers, one agent down.” He listens for a moment and then hangs up. “Help is on the way.” I nod. Unfortunately we don’t have time to wait. Moving in a crouch I go over to where both of our guns are and grab them. I give Agent Golden his gun back and then carefully peer around our crate.

“You going again?” He asks. I nod in reply, and carefully move around the crate. “You hurt?” I shake my head no, lying of course. I was dead after all.

I have a pretty good idea as to where the gunshots came from, so I move in that direction. As soon as I am out of sight from Agent Golden I stop. My adrenaline is pumping, but so is my anger. If I am not careful I will lash out in anger and leave too many bodies behind. I need to bring the culprits in alive. I take a moment and cool down before moving on again.

Just as before I hear gunfire. This time I get lucky and do not get hit. Their mistake is missing me. I now know where they are. I sprint forward, again hearing bullets whiz around me. I finally see the gunman and leap at him just as his gun clicks on empty. I fall short if tackling him, but I do land a good solid punch to his jaw. He sags to the ground unconscious. And then I stop. I listen very carefully. I can hear someone screaming off in the distance. I bend over and slap my handcuffs on the unconscious man. He is now our main suspect, we would not want him to be escaping. At the very least we can arrest him for shooting an Agent.

It is the aunt. She is tied to a chair. The missing little girl was tied to another chair. She is yelling too, not much sound escaping from around the gag.

“Quickly! Untie me!” The aunt is yelling.

I look at her for a moment before signing to the little girl: “You ok?” Her father is deaf, she is the one who knows sign language.

She nods. “I’m FBI, I’m here to help you.” I sign. I walk around behind her chair and gently peel the tape off of her hands. She quickly frees herself and then moves to place herself between me and the aunt.

“What are you waiting for, unite me!!” The aunt yells. I do nothing except give her a blank look.

22:47

Support arrived fifteen minutes after Agent Golden made the call. An ambulance not long after. The loaded Agent Golden up and moved him to the hospital. Another ambulance arrived and did a quick check up on the girl. The uncle was taken into custody. Then they came to me to find out why I had left the aunt tied up.

“She was in on it.” I signed to Emily as she translated. I didn’t have to say much else for them to take her into custody as well. This of course was just a theory. My fellow agents tend to trust my theories. If I suspect someone, then it is for good reason, and I am usually correct.

Tonight I will record all of this in my journal. Just another one of those days that I should have died. C’est la vie.

The Mission (Part 11)

~~Six weeks later~~

We are sitting around a nice wooden table. We are back on Earth. There are twelve chairs. One remains empty. Admiral Tarnsforth is late. This is usual. Our other guest is a representative from MISAT. You could call him our handler. We call him Captain Freeman. Captain Joseph Freeman has been our representative between the Military and MISAT for the last four years.

Captain Freeman was a PIAQ candidate once. We even trained with him for a while. His dreams of PIAQ service ended when an explosion tore his leg off. Sure, they grew him a new one, but it would never be functional enough. He walks with a cane and a limp to this day.

The other PIAQ have handlers too. Each one a washout from the PIAQ program. They serve two purposes. The keep us in line and they keep the Military in line. We are a powerful force. We are exceptionally effective and we are very good at carrying out our orders regardless of who we need to kill.

An hour later the Admiral shows up. He gives some lame excuse for his lateness. We ignore it. Everyone has a debrief report sitting in front of them. None of us have looked at them. The MicroAI generated it for us.

“Gentlemen. Welcome home.” Try as he may, we don’t feel welcomed by this statement. As much as he is trying to be gracious, we can hear the frustration in his voice. All eleven of us keep a stoic expression on our face. We can feel a chewing out coming. “Now. Down to business. Gentlemen, are you aware that this operation took over eleven weeks to complete? Moreover, what prompted you to kill over 300 of your fellow servicemen?”

Our facial expressions have not changed. Captain Freeman speaks for the group. “Admiral, if I may refer to the specifics that you gave to PIAQ Seven 81 days ago. ‘Through whatever means you deem needed force the Gorjabnian Government to pursue diplomatic relations with the Terran Alliance, in a manner that does not point back to the Terran Alliance.’” He pauses to let it sink in. “Now, there are two parts that I see to these orders. Have the Gorjabnian’s pursued diplomatic relations with the Terran Alliance?”

“Yes.” The Admiral replies.

“And has any suspicion been place on you or any other members of the Terran Alliance Military?”

“No.”

“Then I believe that PIAQ has completed its assignment within the specified bounds.”

“No. They took over eleven weeks to do it.” We play this game after every mission. Admiral Tarnsforth always finds something to complain about, and we always kindly tell him “Deal with it.” I can feel it coming on very quickly.

“Mr. Tarnsforth.” Unit 2 says. Now he is just pushing buttons. “You could at least thank us.” He says before rising and walking out of the room. The rest of us follow. Captain Freeman remains behind. He is, unfortunately, bound to Military Protocols and cannot leave until dismissed.

An hour later he joins us. “Stephen,” he says, addressing Unit 2, “That was brilliant.” We all smile and agree. “Gentlemen, I’ll see you in three weeks. Enjoy your leave.”

Finally. Three weeks of leave. Unfortunately I will not be starting it yet. I seem to have forgotten something on Gorjabn.

~~The next day~~

Now leave can begin. I join my PIAQ mates Earthside. Unit 9 is hosting a party of sorts. We all feel a spot of sorrow over this mission. We cannot celebrate to a job well done with how many bodies we left in our wake. I personally have a body count at 510 for this mission. The rest have similar stories, and no one wants to tell them.

So tonight we will raise a glass to Gorjabn. We will raise a glass to the dead. And we will raise a glass to our friendship.

Unit 0 makes good on the bet and brings a case of 2600 Vineyard Merlot. Unit 9 make good on my part in the bet and gives me a bottle of it. A $600 bottle of wine is a large bet. A case of them is huge. Unit 9 then proceeds to share with the rest of us.

“Now this is good wine.” Unit 1 says. He was born on Vineyard, he was raised with good wine. He would be the one to know.

Planet Vineyard is not actually a part of the Terran Alliance. It lies as a separate faction. The planet is covered with biodomes, each dedicated to creating the perfect environment for grape growth. It is commonly known that the best wine in the universe comes from Vineyard.

And so PIAQ 7 came to a rest.

~FIN.

The Mission (Part 10)

We spend the evening watching the news. The reporters are frantic. The population is frantic. Everyone is confused and scared. We crippled the military. We crippled the government. We crippled law enforcement. People have figured out who of the survivors is now in charge, and for the moment they are trying to restore order.

I casually pull out my tablet and bring up an intergalactic news feed. News of the attack has spread quickly. The Alliance has offered to help, but so far the Gorjabnian’s are declining. The Korvan Union has expressed their sorrow over the attacks, but due to border restrictions are unable to offer assistance.

We pay close attention to who is taking charge. They will be tomorrows victims. Tonight we watch and wait.

December 4, 2613 3:01 Local Time

We head out early. It is still dark. We each have a target. I head towards the makeshift police station that has been set up. I go alone. I like working alone. I don’t have my sniper rifle with me today. Two pistols and two knifes. More than enough. If I do need it, it is only a portal away.

I work my way to the roof of the building quickly and quietly. I can hear voices inside the building. People are still frantic. They are throwing ideas around as to who may be responsible for the attack. Time to show them. The techs back at our crate are working to disable the cameras in the room, and by the time I find my point of ingress they have the cameras down.

The MicroAI flicks the MPAD on for just a second, barely long enough for me to drop through the floor and down into the room. My sidearm already drawn it barks out once on the way down. His head disappears in a cloud of red. My landing is cushioned nicely by the officer standing below me. He crumples to the floor also dead. My actions are fluid, the gun comes up quickly and barks again and again. Three shots, four dead. I turn in place and crouch down, raising the gun as I do. Another shot, this one destroys the camera. While utterly unnecessary, this will keep them guessing. I rise and level the gun at the only other living person in the room.

He looks right at me and I right at him. He cowers a little. “Please let me live.” He says weakly. With that I lower the gun. I casually rack the slide on it, catching the round as it falls out. Eleven rounds left. I toss the bullet to him.

“I’ll be back for that.” I say before sprinting out the door. Two officers try and stop me. They fail. Nine shots remaining. I can hear more officers moving around, actions cycling on guns, and yelling for someone to stop me. I round a corner, fire another shot, and in the sudden privacy plant a portal and escape. The plan was to leave him alive. We’re playing a lot of mind games with the remnants of their government.

Back in the crate I pop the mag out of my sidearm and quickly mash 7 fresh rounds into the gun. Seconds after I slide the firearm into its holster a notice appears on my visor. Units 4 and 6 have run into some resistance. They are in need of any help they can get. I grab my sniper rifle and plant a portal on the wall of the crate. A second later Unit 4 places the other half and I step through.

The portal does not close behind me. Instead Unit 0 replants the one I used and joins us. Barely a second after he steps through he rips off a short burst of shot and fires a grenade. He moves forward and slides under the cover that the rest of us are using. We are in the Gorjabnian’s Third Battalion barracks. It was one of the buildings that survived yesterday. We’re going to change that today. However, we were not expecting company.

Unit 0 reloads his grenade launcher and tosses a spare to Unit 4. As I start to connect the sniper rifle to the back of my suit I turn and look at Unit 6. He has pulled two grenades out of his gear and gestures that I take them. I have a feeling that I am about to become a distraction.

We are in what appears to be a cafeteria. A metal table is serving as cover from the weapons fire that is coming down a hallway towards us. They have managed to pile up some sand bags, and have pinned us down. While we cannot see it, we know that somewhere some more servicemen are working to flank us.

Unit 6 quickly outlines his plan to us. When he is finished, the MicroAI places a countdown on our visors. We have thirty seconds to get in place. I have the two grenades, but the plan does not call for me to use them. Yet. The countdown reaches zero. Units 0, 4 and myself rise from behind our barricade. The two of them open fire while I level my sidearm at the wall near the sandbag wall that has been made. I plant a portal. At the same time Unit 6 plants a portal on the wall near us. He tosses two satchel charges through and the portals close. We duck back down and move away from the hallway. And the hallway explodes.

“Hmmm. Looks like one would have done.” Unit 6 says as he surveys the blown out remains of the hallway. We’re moving as a group. Units 0 and 4 are taking the lead, Unit 6 is planting more explosives and I’m watching our rear. We take nearly an hour to finish up. We avoid getting cornered again, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t get into a couple small fire fights, and use a couple grenades. Once we are done we portal home, Unit 6 triggers the detonators, and we are done. All in a day’s work.

Supplemental: The Tragedy on Gorjabn

An exert from the “Korvan Daily News” written by Kamarth of Bluetilt:

News today from within Alliance Space: A brutal terrorist attack on Gorjabn.

News of this attack is shocking. Reports indicate that some 70% of elected officials were killed in the attack. These reports have not yet been confirmed, but in the coming days a clearer picture will emerge.

The terrorists struck fast and hard. Reports indicate that a virus was released that crippled the Planetary AI. Within moments of this a massive DDOS (Distributed Denial of Service) attack was launched. Concurrently large explosions tore through the main server clusters that powered the AI. An unknown number of gunmen later executed the technical staff that helps maintain the AI.

Concurrent to this, the Gorjabnian capital building was engulfed in an explosion. The Gorjabnian President was assassinated by a sniper within seconds of the bombings. Military bases and law enforcement offices around the planet were bombed at the same time.

The Vice President’s motorcade was disabled while transporting him to safety. The subsequent explosion of a police station destroyed the motorcade. Needless to say, the Gorjabnian government is in chaos. An unknown number of gunmen assassinated a majority of the planetary congress.

Thus far no terrorist organization has taken responsibility for these actions. No one can yet speculate as to why these attacks took place. Current estimates place the number of armed terrorists involved in this attack around three hundred.

Korvan Union President Harold Cope had this to say: “We are appalled by the display of aggression that the Gorjabnian Government has witnessed today. It is my deepest wish to provide any assistance, should the Alliance permit our vessels to travel to Gorjabn.”

Terran Alliance Prime Minister Fletcher of Trabak declined to comment, but reports indicate that the Alliance has offered Military and medical support.

The Hospitality Colony is in the process of preparing a shipment of medical goods to send to Gorjabn.

The Mission (Part 9)

~~Three weeks later~~

T-6 minutes.

I am lying on a table in a factory, the comfortable weight of a sniper rifle (albeit Gorjabnian) pressing against my shoulder. My breathing is controlled, precise, slow. My finger rests against the trigger guard, occasionally flexing and stretching. I stare, both eyes open down the scope on the gun. My target lined up in the crosshairs. Six minutes and the Gorjabnian government will fall to pieces. Everything is in place. Bombs, computer viruses, loaded magazines, rounds in the chamber, presidents in the crosshairs, everything. Yes kids, I get to kill the Gorjabnian President. Units 0-2 are ready to swarm into his office and take out everyone else.

My first target is actually one of the bodyguards standing by the door. Second kill will be the other bodyguard. Third is the president. After my third shot my three squad mates will swarm into the room and remove the rest of the presidential staff.

Units 3 and 4 are seeing to the heads of the military. Units 5 and 6 are in different places to watch the bombs go off. Units 8 and 9 are first hand dealing with crashing the Gorjabnian’s AI. Many of the servers that run the AI will get blown up, but combining crashed hardware with a DDOS and numerous viruses guarantees that the AI will go down.

T-30 seconds.

I watch the countdown in the corner of my visor. It is crucial that I don’t fire until the bombs go off. If I fire too soon their AI could calculate the bullet path, and triangulate my position. If I fire too late then panic will have set in. Both of these things are bad. Most importantly, I cannot fire until the window is gone. We placed a thin explosive coating on the window, and will detonate it just before I fire.

When the counter hits 3 I stop watching and breathing. Deep breath in. Let it out slow. Two. Stop. Hold. Squeeze. One. Tighter. Tighter. Zero. CRACK. Slide to the left. Squeeze. Acquire target. Tighter. Tighter. CRACK. Slide to the right. Squeeze. Moving target. Track. Tighter. Compensate for movement. CRACK. Time to complete goal: 2.7 seconds. Not bad. Three shots, three kills, 2.7 seconds, 530 meters. It is not my best ever but it certainly is far from my worst. Shane Smith would be angry. Smith was my coach when I went through sniper training several lifetimes ago. I would be doing 300 push-ups for every shot fired from the same place.

In the distance I hear blaring sirens and the rumble of collapsing buildings. The clock is running. I have 7 minutes to be at my next destination. I drop the magazine from the gun, rack the slide back catching the bullet as it falls, and leave the gun behind. Next to it a smoldering pile of burnt gloves.

Our final target for the morning is the Vice President. We know that he will be escorted from the building and placed into one of three motorcades. We are going to destroy all three. Units 5 and 6 are moving to new locations to deal with one of the motorcades each. I will take the third.

I am on the seventh floor. It will take me 45 seconds to run down the stairs. On the third floor I encounter a security guard. He sees me coming down the stairs and starts to draw his sidearm. Poor choice. I am closing on him too quickly for him to have any chance of taking me out. He should have ducked back and called for backup. I’m on him, knife in hand, before the gun clears the holster. Apply knife to throat. Push. Collapse. He goes down quick, jugular cleaved in two, windpipe severed, spinal column destroyed. I leave the knife behind. It will only be more evidence against the Gorjabnian Fifth Battalion.

As I come to the ground level I see the swarms of confused citizens gathered outside watching their world fall to pieces. Their confusion is my escape. I am wearing my full combat armor with a second sniper rifle across my back. Anyone who sees me will be scared and should be able to connect the dots. Not wanting this I duck down an alleyway.

Six minutes remaining:

As I come to the middle of the alley I draw my sidearm and plant two portals, one in front of me, and the other next to a fire escape. Shortly after I pass through they close. Holstering my sidearm and drawing my rifle in one quick motion I take aim and plant another portal 3 miles away inside an office building. This second sniper rifle is another one of the Gorjabnian’s, equipped with a small portal generator. I remove the generator and place it in a pouch on my suit. Again, I switch weapons. I am about to burst into an occupied office building. Deep breath. Plant portal. Bolt through. Gun raised. Acquire target. Fire. Wash, rinse, repeat. Four seconds later the room is quiet. I have seven rounds left in my gun. Nine shots, nine kills, 4 seconds, nine for nine, shot in the left eye. This is my trademark move. I run for the stairs and head for the roof.

Four minutes remaining:

I run to the edge of the roof and unsling my second sniper rifle. Setting it down I pull a second set of gloves from my armor. Ten seconds with a torch and they are just the same as the first pair.

Lying down I again feel the comfortable weight of a sniper rifle pressing against my shoulder, this time lying on a rough gravel roof.

Two minutes remaining:

I take a moment to glance at my squad mates vitals. The system would notify all of us if something was even slightly wrong. In any case I always keep a close eye on them, and I am sure that they do the same.

Everyone has a slightly elevated heart rate. Nothing dangerous, I’ve seen worse in people after walking up a flight of stairs. Breathing is near normal as well. Slight presence of adrenaline which is actually quite welcome. A little can give you an edge, a lot kills you or gets you killed, and if a doctor gives you adrenaline, it probably saves your life.

Having seen what I looked for I again focus down the barrel on my rifle.

Thirty seconds remaining:

My job is to stop the motorcade as it passes the local police station. The building is already rigged to explode, I just need to make sure that they are around when it does. I see the line of police cars start to come around a corner. I run the math in my head real quick. They will be past the explosion unless I stop them.

My first shot should take out the driver of the lead car. In the event that the windshield is bullet proof I will drop my aim and put several rounds through the engine on the car. A fifty caliber round does an amazing amount of damage to an engine. I will work my way down the line stopping each car as they come. My only concern is ammunition. I have nine rounds in the magazine plus one in the chamber. I carry two extra magazines on my arm, as well as ten loose rounds, but reloading takes time. There are less than ten cars, but if I can’t shoot the drivers out then I will need to put multiple rounds into the car itself. Things get dicey at that point.

Ten seconds to explosion:

The motorcade had reached the stop point. I gently squeeze the trigger on my gun. My breath is locked, held steady. My visor is perfectly clear. No distractions, no alerts, nothing. The system goes so far as to alert the rest of the squad to not distract me.

The gun barks out, the bullet flies towards its target spinning as it does. A lifetime of shooting has taught me perfection. I am shocked every time the gun goes off. This is the way it should be. Find that perfect calm, relax, squeeze, hold the sights on target, squeeze. Keep squeezing until the gun fires. It should come as a shock. When it startles you then you didn’t know it was coming, and therefore did not try to compensate.

I see a puff of red as the driver’s head disintegrates. I adjust my aim am squeeze off another round this time taking out the passenger. I fire six more times, stopping the first four cars in place. The rest come to a stop. One of the drivers gets out to see what is going on. He is suddenly engulfed in a massive ball of flame.

I hold my rooftop post for another five minutes. When I don’t see any survivors walking out of the fire I rise and draw my sidearm. Walking quietly back into the building I search for a smooth patch of wall to plant a portal. Within seconds of entering the building I encounter another security guard. Like the first one he reaches for his gun. Again, a poor choice. I am much quicker than he is. My gun is already raised, and quickly lines up for the kill. A single round of burning lead flies out of the barrel and ruins the guards day. Six rounds left. Half a second later I plant a portal on the smooth section of wall that was behind the security guard.

The MicroAI instantly activates a portal in our “home”. I step through and both close behind me. I holster my sidearm and press one of the small buttons on my wrist, releasing the lock on the set of portals I was using. Units 0, 1 and 2 are already back, standing behind Units 8 and 9 who are seated in front of their computers.

Unit 1 turns and says: “Well done Icarus.” Of all the squad, Unit 1 and I are the closest, and yet the most distant. We are both men of few words, and we both think carefully before we speak. Unit 1, Wynann Gott of Vineyard is a very skilled fighter, and he knows exactly when and how to encourage people the best. His statement is referring to my twenty-one direct kills and the indirect kills in the explosion. Units 0 and 9 look at each other and Unit 9 smiles. Looks like Unit 9 won the bet.

“What was it this time?” I ask looking at Unit 9.

“A case of 2600 Vineyard Merlot that you would leave one alive.” He responds, referring the last 4 missions when a hostile backed down and was accordingly spared.

Very early on they learned that betting on my shooting was a poor choice. Most of the time they bet on other members of the squad, or on anything at all. They do it for the fun. The bets are on things that neither own, but something that they both would not mind having. In this case, they will most likely share the wine anyway.

“You’re gonna give me a bottle, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you one when we get back to Earth.” It is an unspoken rule that when you are betting against someone in the squad then the winner shares the spoils with them.

The Mission (Part 8)

I am wearing my lightweight armor for the time being. I need to blend into the local population for a while until we strike. Over the armor goes a business suit. The jacket conceals the two side arms and the rest of my gear nicely.

The Gorjabnians, like the rest of the known galaxy are human. It was 400 years ago that man again set out into the vast unknown of space, and left our small Solar System. The crucial technologies for high speed space flight, power generation and long range communication all came into existence all about the same time.

Our first planet, Trinity was probably not the best choice for a first colony. A dead planet with no atmosphere and to date no natural resources of any kind. The only thing of “value” to come from Trinity is large quantities of the toxic metal Osmium.

Our second planet turned out to be quite different. When the long range sensors picked up the planet we though the sensors were malfunctioning. At the time I was nothing more than a Lieutenant serving on-board the exploratory vessel. The sensors showed breathable atmosphere, flora and fauna, everything. A near replica of Earth. Planet Grace became our second colony. And third. And fourth. And soon Grace was a thriving population center.

We have yet to find another planet that is such a perfect place. Gorjabn is the closest match. Sure it has some flaws: the oceans contain a high presence of Mercuric Cyanide making them highly toxic to humans and the atmosphere is 3ppm Chlorine gas. Compared to some of the other planets I have seen, this is beautiful. Nothing is going to be a perfect Earth. Terraforming can only do a little and the cost is astronomical. As a whole, domed cities and colonies work moderately well, but it is still not quite perfect.

I am standing in the armory of the Gorjabnian’s Fifth Battalion. They have the unfortunate honor of being the victim of my plans.

I traveled nearly 160km to get here, and for the last hour I have been working my way through walls and past security systems to get to the armory. I grab three sniper rifles from the wall. Beneath the rack are convenient break down cases. I break the guns down quickly and reassess the other equipment on the shelves. I grab eight pairs of shooting gloves. As an avid weapons collector I also take three combat knives. One for my collection two to leave in bodies. My final touch is to plant 80 small incendiary charges beneath the shelves in the room. Three weeks from now we will detonate them.

I give the room one last assessment before drawing my sidearm and placing a portal on the wall. I currently have a reserve on set three, and as soon as my portal goes active the MicroAI activates a gateway in our crate. I casually step through and bring my newly acquired gear with me.

Units 1 and 5 are currently in the crate. They spent the evening scouting out the capital building.

“Ic, you have the time to create a distraction for us?” Several members of the squad have taken to calling me Ic instead of Icarus.

“Yeah, what do you need?”

The next day I found myself taking a tour of the Capital Building. I was not what I had expected when I agreed to help, but it certainly is welcome. Don’t take this the wrong way, I am a team player. In every way I am a team player. I am not however a politician, and I do not enjoy being used as their scalpel. Much of the squad feels the same way. We enjoy the opportunity to travel across the known galaxy and see the different cultures and sites. It is a pity we are going to destroy this one.

I was career military. That is to say: when I created this life, it was my intention to pursue a military career, again. I enlisted in the Navy and slowly but steadily advanced to the rank of Chief Petty Officer. I was a couple weeks after my promotion that the ship I was assigned to came into hostile contact with a KUV Frigate. They got the drop on us, and before we could open fire they had managed to board our ship. In the course of the battle I “stepped out of line”. I disobeyed direct orders to rescue a fellow soldier. We both lived, he returned to duty and I was court-martialed. An hour into the proceedings six men wearing uniforms from several different branches interrupted and assigned me new orders.

The way it was described to me is that I was now an Commissioned officer in the Marine Corps with the rank of Captain. I was then handed a sheet of paper that upon signing, I would be retired. Upon retiring I was immediately hired by MISAT and placed into their PIAQ training program. From the start it was not my intention to end up in a PIAQ. My intentions were to serve the Terran Alliance to the best of my abilities and preserve human life when possible. Apparently my actions drew the attention of MISAT.

All of my squad mates have identical stories. All PIAQmen have near identical stories. That is why the PIAQ as a collective have more than a 97% survival rate.

Before going on the tour I hang my wool cloak up on a coat rack. After the tour I deliberately hold back and ask some questions. I take just long enough for the next tour to come in and hang their jackets. Finished with my questions I grab my coat. As I do I casually drop a small incendiary device into the coat of the jacket next to mine. Then I “accidentally” drop a key ring on the ground. Bending over I place several more of the devices on other jackets. While not much larger than the head of a match, and just barely as powerful the devices are incredibly useful. They have a remote detonator and a small hook. Ideal for setting clothing on fire. I casually walk out of the capital building and click the small button on my wrist.

Twenty minutes later I have joined Units 1 and 5. We are sitting in the basement of the building next door to the capital building. Unit 5 pulls out a small remote. He flips the safety cover open and mashes the button in. He has a thing for drama. Inside the capital the devices I planted light. Within seconds the fire alarms are going off and the building is being evacuated. We wait another minute before walking through the wall. There are only twenty feet of dirt separating us from the basement of the capital. We are carrying three cases filled with various explosives. I am taking point, sidearm drawn. I slowly emerge into the basement. The only light comes from the sirens that are still blaring the need to leave the building. The basement is empty.

We spend the next hour moving quietly and planting explosives. Unit 5 quickly builds us a map of what needs to go where and as a group we build it. The building will be leveled, and no one will see a thing out of the ordinary should the come down into the basement between now and when we set it off.

The FBI (Part 2)

December 07, 2093 21:46

Agent Maxwell looked up from the stack of papers sitting in front of him. He reached forward and tapped the table in front of him. Emily Colfax also looked up from her stack of papers.

“I’m going for a walk. Send Agent Golden with me. You may need to give him the talk.” He signed.

Emily nodded and turned around to get Agent Golden’s attention. He was sitting at a different table with Agent Jilette and Agent Colcord. Both of whom had fallen asleep. The kidnappers had made their demand, and the family was scrambling to meet it. In the mean time the agents were digging deeper and deeper into the information they had at hand. They had gone over the house several times and had come up with nothing. Whoever had planned this kidnapping had put considerable effort into planning and executing it.

“Agent Golden.” She said. “Thomas is going out to stretch his legs. He asks that you join him.”

“Ok. Could use a stretch myself.” He said as he stood.

“Thomas also asked that I explain: communication is rough between him and most people. Ask ‘yes’ or ‘no’ questions and questions that involve numbers.”

“Alright.”

They both walked outside. It was brisk out, the early December weather had put a nip in the air. The two agents walked out into the parking lot, every breath visible as it vacated their lungs. Agent Maxwell walked to the SUV and started to get in.

“I thought we were going for a walk?”

Agent Maxwell gave a slight smile and slid a small piece of paper across the hood of the SUV.

“I have a hunch. Keep it quiet.” It read. It was the same note he had showed Emily before walking out. The two of them did enough work together that they trusted each other pretty well. That trust ran deep enough that they would lie for each other, especially to help with the current case. Agent Golden read the note and got in the car.

“You know who it is.”

A head shake. No.

“You think you know.”

A nod.

“And you think there is a mole of some kind in there.”

Another nod.

“The family?”

A shrug. Unsure.

They drove for ten minutes in silence before pulling into a parking lot. Agent Maxwell grabbed a pad of paper and started to write on it.

“I think the aunt did it. She owns the warehouse across the street. Her finances are a mess.” It was a slow way to communicate, but it was better than yes or no questions.

“She called just before the demands came in.” Agent Golden said. Agent Maxwell nodded in reply.

“You armed?” He wrote on the paper.

“Yeah.”

Agent Maxwell set the pad of paper down and gestured for Agent Golden to follow. They both got out of the car. Agent Maxwell drew his sidearm, a M1911, from the IWB holster hidden behind his shirt and checked that there was a round in the chamber. He preferred the M1911 to the Glocks that were standard issue. Apparently Agent Golden agreed. The options for firearms were limited, most people went with the standard issue Glock. Apparently both of these men opted to buy their own service pistol. They nodded at each other, concealing their sidearm’s as they did and walked across the street to the warehouse.

December 07, 2093 22:03

Carefully and quietly Agent Maxwell slid one of the doors open and slid in sweeping side to side as he did. Agent Golden followed close behind doing the same thing. Seconds later they both heard the sharp retort of gunfire and felt the hot sting of bullets hitting them. They both went down, blood pouring from the bullet holes. One was dead, the other severely injured.

The FBI (Part 1)

December 07, 2093 08:30

Agent Wallace was sitting at his desk when the phone rang. Agent Wallace was the Man. In this case he was the man in charge of the Denver Colorado Division of the FBI.

“Wallace.” He said after smacking the speakerphone button. He knew what the voice on the other end was going to say and he didn’t want to hear it.

“Sir, financial has finished with the new agents. They are on their way up now.”

“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” He replied. New agents. One of his least favorite things on the planet. In his world new agents were only slightly better than doing your taxes. Agent Wallace hated paying his taxes. This batch was especially bad. When he first heard of Agent Golden, Wallace knew that he would be assigned to this office. He knew it just as much as he knew he had ten fingers. Agent Golden was a hazard, but the higher ups disagreed and that was the end of it. Wallace’s wife always told him to be careful when judging people before meeting them. Well, she hadn’t spent the last twenty years in the FBI. He knew that Agent Golden would be an issue.

Agent Wallace walked out of his office and was greeted with the overly energetic faces of seven new agents.

“I am Agent Wallace. I am in charge of the Denver Field Office. You report to me. You will quickly learn that what I say goes, and that is final. For the next three weeks you new agents will paired with one of our more senior agents. After that I will start assigning you cases as I do with the rest of my agents.”

Agent Wallace was a hard man. He was as close to his telephone as he is to any of his coworkers. His voice always carries a hint of a bad mood to it. He didn’t like interacting with people, especially new agents. He got his work done. He got his work done exceptionally well. And now, two months before retirement he got slapped in the face with a boatload of fresh agents. The DC office hadn’t announced who they would be sending to replace him, and he didn’t care. Being two months from retirement was no excuse to get lazy about your job. He had two months to whip these new agents into shape, and even if it killed him, he was going to do it.

Having said his peace he turned and walked back into his office.

~~~~

Agent Peter Golden was solid well build man. He had just retired from 14 years of Army service. He carried way too many awards on his uniform and too many scars on his body for any normal person. Standing over 2 meters tall, he was so broad across the shoulder that he had to turn sideways to go through single door. He was an impressive sight, and certainly not the kind of person you want to come kicking down your door.

There were rumors running around the office about Agent Golden. People said he carried 4 bullets still inside his body, and had 6 purple hearts to speak for the ones that were no longer a part of him.

He was assigned to shadow Agent Clarence Jilette. Agent Jilette, on the other hand was a smaller woman. You couldn’t call her tiny, but standing next to Agent Golden she fit the description just fine. While not the shortest person she had earned a reputation for having the shortest cases. She was frequently able to connect the dots that other agents tended to look over. Agent Wallace had once told her that he wished he had several more agents just like her. It was probably the nicest thing she had ever heard her boss say.

“I’m Clarence Jilette.” She said extending her hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Peter Golden.” He replied, carefully shaking her hand as to not rip her arm off. “If you don’t mind my asking, what are you working on?” This is how he was. Friendly as necessary and then down to business.

“Oh, no. Not at all. Besides, we’re both working on it now. We just got notice from the Casper Wyoming Police Dept. They had a kidnapping last night. I’m one of our experts on kidnappings, so we’re going to be headed up there real soon here.”

“We?”

“You, me, and Agent Colcord, he is an expert with hostage situations. One of our other experts got called in early and is already on her way up.”

“When do we leave?” Agent Golden asked.

“Ten minutes. It’s a four an’ a half hour drive. Hope you packed an extra set of clothes!”

“I’ll get them from my car.”

Agent Wallace had warned Agent Jilette about Peter Golden. He spoke of how young military brats tend to make poor agents, at least for the first couple months. Agent Jilette almost got the impression that Agent Wallace was referring to his own career. Rumor was that Agent Golden was somewhat of a war hero. Something about saving the life of a General. Agent Wallace knew these rumors as well as the rest of the office, and Agent Wallace didn’t like it.

While Agent Jilette respected her boss, and always welcomed his opinions, she made it a point to make her own opinions on new people. That said, she found Agent Golden to be respectful and almost quiet. The exact opposite of what she had expected. “Time will tell I guess.” she thought.

13:02

The black SUV came to a stop in the parking lot of a local hotel. The drive up went smoothly. For the most part they traveled in silence. Agent Golden was unsure as to whether his companions were being shy, or were more focused on the case they would soon be working on. They made excellent time on the drive. What was normally a four and a half hour drive they managed to accomplish in just four hours and a quick stop at a fast food joint.

Agent Jilette and Colcord hopped out while Agent Golden carefully unfolded himself from the seat. While it was a large car, it was not well sized for such a large man. No car was. He needed a tank. A large one.

They quickly went into the hotel and checked in. The desk clerk told them that one of the rooms had already been checked into by a Miss Emily Colfax.

“She is the expert that we sent up early.” Agent Jilette explained turning to face Agent Golden as she did: “By the way, she is deaf. She can talk and lipread, but she needs to be looking at you.”

“Ok.”

Check in went smoothly. The hotel clerk was a kind gentlemen with a good sense of humor. Unfortunately the three agents were not in a humorous mindset. They had two rooms, one for the men and one for the ladies. Needing to get to the police station they quickly moved their bags into the rooms, casually tossing them in before heading back to their car.

Ten minutes later they arrived at the Casper Police Department.

“Maxwell?” Agent Jilette asked seconds after walking through the door. The man looked up from the monitor and smiled. Again turning to Agent Golden she explained: “Agent Thomas Maxwell, he is one of our agents. He usually works with Colfax. He’s mute, she’s deaf. They work well together. I should have figured that he would have come up.”

“Mute?” Agent Golden replied in what appeared to be his short and to the point manner of speech. In fact, it was the way he preferred to communicate.

“Can’t speak a word. Perfect hearing though. Brilliant tactician too.”

“Isn’t that dangerous, you know, when the need for force arrives.”

“No, he tends to lead tactical insertions. Non verbal communication is so important to him that leading a tactical insertion is just an extension of his day to day life. It had me confused too. Until I saw him in action.”

Agent Maxwell turned around in his seat and tapped on the shoulder of the woman sitting behind him. Turning she saw the three newcomers.

“Clarence! Bruce, good to see you guys.” She said with a smile. “New agent?” She asked looking at Agent Golden.

“Yeah, I got a shadow. This is Agent Peter Golden.” After Agent Jilette said the name, Emily turned and looked at Thomas. He quickly signed the letters for her.

Emily Colfax was an impressive lip reader, however she almost always missed names the first time around. Especially last names. Agent Golden watched as Agent Maxwell signed the name. He made a mental note to start learning sign language immediately. During his time in the army he had learned the importance of communication. He had learned French and Spanish while overseas. Now he would learn the language that his coworkers spoke. But it would have to wait. First, the case.

Emily quickly introduced them to the Police Chief and the two detectives assigned to the case.

“Why did they send you two up? Deaf family member?” Agent Jilette asked.

“Yeah.” Emily replied. “The father is deaf. Doesn’t lip-read either. I’ve been playing translator all day. The mom is pretty hysterical.”

“Time on the clock?” Agent Jilette asked.

“Her parents noticed her missing around 7 this morning” the Chief replied. “Near as we can tell she was taken some time during the night.”

“Best guess is between 12 and 14 hours ago.” Emily explained. Agent Jilette had asked a very specific question, and the Police Chief had answered a completely different one. As an expert on kidnappings Agent Jilette knew the importance of finding the missing person within 48 hours.

“Any communication from whoever took her?”

“No. We’ve been running background checks on the family and checking finances, but nothing has come up.”

“Show me.”

Agent Jilette, the Chief and Emily spend the next twenty minutes going over the details from the girl’s bedroom and looking at all the evidence they had so far. And then the phone rang. It was the mothers cell phone. It was her sister calling. For a second they all hoped it was that kidnappers, and feared that they would be unable to hear the conversation. As soon as it became clear that it was not the kidnappers, Agent Colcord went out to the SUV and brought a hard sided black case in with him. He quickly setup a wiretap on the phone and gave it back to the mother.

They had just returned to looking at the evidence when the phone rang again.

“Hello?” The mother answered in a weak exhausted voice.

“WE HAVE YOUR DAUGHTER.” The voice on the line said. It was a mechanical voice. A text to speech program. “IF YOU WANT TO SEE HER AGAIN YOU WILL DO EXACTLY AS WE SPECIFY.”