by Jay Posey
They pulled up to the excavation rig around Martian noon, and Lincoln was impressed by how professionally all the workers ignored their arrival and their preparation for departure. Whatever cover story the PCB boys had provided had apparently been highly effective. In under an hour, they were on a sleek, corporate aircraft headed for Basehead, with their gear loaded safely on board. From Basehead, there was a change of clothes and craft, and another jump over to Shukaku Station, where they arrived around 1900 hours local time. Just a little late for dinner.
An unmanned shuttle picked them up and dropped the whole party off at a mid-scale hotel nearby. Owen didn’t bother stopping at the front desk; he led the way to room 1911, and knocked.
“Yeah?” a voice said from inside.
“We’re friends of Ms Nadia van der Merwe,” Owen said, giving what Lincoln assumed was the proper phrase for initiating contact.
“Nadia? I haven’t talked to her in years,” came the reply. Clicks and snaps sounded from inside the room, locks being undone. The door opened a crack. “You read her book yet?”
“I’ve read them all,” Owen answered.
With the prearranged coded exchange apparently completed, the door opened wider, but didn’t reveal any more of the man on the other side. He shielded himself behind it, and waved them in with a single arm. Owen and Evan went first, followed by the rest of the team.
“Good grief. Brought the whole family, didn’t you?” he said, as Sahil passed by him, entering last. He closed the door and relocked it. “Guess it would have been too much to ask to keep it a small affair.”
“You know who we work for,” Lincoln said. “We’re lucky to do anything with less than a hundred.”
The man turned around; dark hair, quick eyes, steady hands, and, as far as Lincoln could tell, a genuine smile on his face. The infamous WHITEHALL, in the flesh.
“Elliot Goodkind,” WHITEHALL said, extending his hand. “Sounds like I’ll be your tour guide for the duration of your stay.”
“Goodkind?” Thumper said. “Is that your real name?”
“I get that a lot,” he answered. “And yes.” He gave it a moment, and then added, “At least as far as you’re concerned… But you can call me Elliot.”
Lincoln scanned the hotel room; it was a suite, nicely appointed, if a bit aged. He hoped they wouldn’t all be spending the night here, though.
“Sooo,” Elliot said. “You guys eat yet?”
Lincoln shook his head. “We’ve been on the move all day.”
“Ah, you’re the man in charge, then,” Elliot said with a smile. An innocuous question, with deeper intent. Lincoln had never considered how answering for the others made him conspicuous as a team leader.
“The one with the title, anyway,” Lincoln said, extending his hand. “Lincoln Suh.”
“I’ve seen the file, Lincoln,” Elliot answered, shaking hands. “What they were willing to share, anyway. Good to meet you.”
“We secure here?” Wright asked.
Elliot nodded. “Room’s clean. I’ve got a field running.”
“So you’re up to speed on what we’re here for?” Wright said.
“You’d probably be surprised at how little they actually tell me,” Elliot said. “But that’s OK, it works out for both of us. If I get caught, it makes me less of a liability to them. And if I make a mistake, I can claim I didn’t know any better.” He flashed a quick grin.
“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Lincoln said.
“This line of work, it helps to be an optimist,” Elliot replied. “When you can afford it, anyway. Though I guess most of the time, it’s just likely to get you killed.”
“Sounds familiar. How much did they give you?”
“Details were a little light, but I think I got the gist of it,” Elliot said. “NID asset dropped off the radar, parties believed responsible operating out of the Republic, possibly under government direction. You’re here looking for fingerprints.”
“Sounds about right,” Lincoln said. “Word on the street is you’re NID’s ace in the hole.”
“Well, they got the hole part right, for sure,” Elliot said. “Jury’s still out on the rest of it. But I should be able to grease the wheels for you a good bit. Get you in and around, and hopefully out soon enough. Let me get an order in for dinner, and we can talk through it. You guys all good with Chinese? There’s a place about a block over. Food’s not great, but they give you a lot of it.”
“That’s a big thumbs up from me,” Mike said. “I’m starving.”
“All right,” Elliot replied. “I’ve got a room here if somebody wants to bunk with me. And rooms 1917 and 1812. All suites. I’ll let you folks figure out who goes where for how long.” He pointed to Owen and Evan. “You fellas staying around?”
“We’ve got a place across town,” Evan answered. “But I could eat.”
Elliot nodded and disappeared into one of the bedrooms to place a dinner order, while the rest of the team sorted out living arrangements. Lincoln decided he’d stick with Elliot, and let the rest of the team pair off. Mike and Wright took room 1812, leaving the room just down the hall to Sahil and Thumper.
Dinner arrived close to 2000 hours, carried by a thin and sweaty young man who had somehow managed to wrangle the entire order up to their room on his own. Elliot gave him a big tip, but the young man seemed more grateful to be relieved of the burden than for the extra money.
They all gathered around the small table to unload boxes from the numerous bags.
“Uh oh,” Elliot said. “Tactical error.”
“What’s that?” Owen asked.
“Forgot I didn’t have any dishes,” Elliot answered. “We’ll have to eat like savages, out of the boxes.”
“Fine by me,” Mike said around a mouthful of something. He was already chowing down, straight out of a container.
The rest of them set to. Elliot hadn’t been kidding. None of it was great, and a lot of it tasted the same, but there were so many different dishes and so much of each, they could have practically opened their own buffet. By Lincoln’s estimation, Mike ate about half of the haul on his own.
They spread out to the various available seats around the room, some on chairs, three on the couch, a couple leaning on arm rests. Elliot perched on top of the desk in the corner of the room. They kept conversation light and on surface matters until the feeding frenzy was winding down.
“I never could get the hang of these things,” Elliot said, fumbling with a set of chopsticks while trying to fish the last few noodles out of a box. “But I always feel like using a fork would be dishonoring the culture.”
“Pretty sure this chicken is already doing that,” Thumper said. She held up a chunk of the meat for Elliot to see.
“I think that’s beef,” Mike answered. Thumper glanced at Mike, then back at the bite she’d been about to eat. Without another word, she let it fall back into the box and set the whole container down on the end table by the couch. Mike looked at her, then at the box, then back to her again. After a moment, she handed it to him, and he dug in.
“So,” Elliot said, apparently giving up on those last noodles. He set the container down next to him on the desk and rubbed his hands together. “To business?”
“Let’s do it,” Lincoln said.
“I’ve got a safehouse set up already, an apartment in the financial district. Might be a little tight for five, but should be more comfortable than your previous accommodations at least.”
“How much static are we going to have moving our gear in?” Wright asked.
“Weapons… we’ll have to ship in,” Elliot said. “Could be a little dicey.”
“What if we go local,” Sahil said. “You got access?”
Elliot nodded. “Yeah I can make that happen, if you don’t mind the downgrade. Nothing I come up with is going to be as high-speed as what you’re used to.”
“I’m the only picky one,” Mike said. “Sahil could do the job with a couple of
rocks if he had to.”
“Whatdya mean a couple?” Sahil said, mock offended at the implication he would need more than one.
“I’m hoping we won’t need any at all,” Lincoln said. “But we better count on it anyway. As long as whatever you can get us hits hard and doesn’t make too much noise, we’ll try our best not to need them.”
“That I can do,” Elliot said. “Other equipment should be a fair bit easier, depending on what we come up with for cover. Anybody set you up with a front yet?”
Lincoln shook his head. “I figured you’d want to weigh in on that.”
Elliot looked surprised. “Well… gee. That was courteous of you. I’m not quite sure how to respond.”
“With good recommendations would be great.”
“Sure, yeah. Just not used to getting to have input on these things. Usually the only time I have any say is after the mess is already made.”
“We’re hoping to skip that part,” Lincoln said.
“We have options?” Elliot asked.
“Sure,” Thumper said, holding up her personal datapad. “I’ve got like five hundred corporations on here.”
The corporations Thumper had access to were all one hundred percent legitimate companies, operating in the open. They were, however, also one hundred percent operated by National Intelligence Directorate-managed AI. Goods and services were bought and sold; money moved in, out, and around. Profitability was carefully controlled to balance gains and losses, keeping everything within statistical norms to avoid attracting too much market attention. Personnel were hired and fired, though employees were a mix of actual humans and hollow identities waiting to be filled whenever an operation required a well-established cover. The list automatically rotated and refreshed to prevent separate operations from using the same businesses. Only certain Special Access Programs could make use of the list, but fortunately, the Outriders were classified as one such program.
“How many do we need?” Thumper asked, already scanning the list.
“I’d say three, minimum,” Wright said. But Elliot shook his head.
“One will be enough,” he said. “MPCR is magnificent at determining connections between people. Like, scary black magic good at it. I’d guess it would take them about forty-eight hours to put you five together, once you’re all inside and working. Unless you want to spend all your time trying to manage your contact with one another, it’s going to be safer and more efficient to all go in together, under the same umbrella.”
“You’re sure that’s wise?” Wright said, and her tone clearly communicated she was sure it wasn’t.
“Wise?” Elliot said, shaking his head again. “No. Not at all. It’s not ideal, not by a long shot. If you had time on your side, I’d work it more organically, over three, maybe four weeks. But I got the sense you guys were on the clock on this one.”
“Time is of the essence, yes,” Lincoln said.
“Then that’s my recommendation. I do a lot of my hiding in plain sight these days. It’s been working so far.”
“I’m sure it appears that way, at least,” Wright said.
“Fair point,” Elliot admitted.
“I think we’ll let you folks work out the details,” Owen said, getting to his feet. “I’m smoked.”
“Oh yeah, sure,” Elliot said. “What’s the plan for you guys?”
“The Barton boys are supposed to be rolling in sometime in the morning. We’ll hook up with them, get them set up in town, and then we’ll be on standby. You need anything, give us a yell.”
They all exchanged the necessary contact credentials and ciphers.
“What’s your response time gonna be like?” Sahil asked. “Case we need somethin’ in a hurry.”
“Just depends on how much noise you allow us to make. Probably four to six hours to get to you quiet-like. Half that, if you don’t mind starting a war.”
Owen and Evan said their goodbyes, and left the team to their planning session.
“I think something technical is going to work best for us,” Elliot said, resuming their conversation. “Military adjacent.”
“Guidance systems?” Thumper asked.
“Maybe not that adjacent,” Elliot said. “You got anything in navigation?”
Thumper skimmed the list, while Lincoln started gathering up cartons of Chinese food, of various quantities. When she saw what he was doing, Wright wordlessly joined in.
“You want me to save any of this?” Lincoln asked.
“I don’t think you want to try it reheated,” Elliot said. But Mike’s eyebrows went up, like maybe he’d be willing to risk it.
“I’ll save you some, Mikey,” Lincoln said.
Elliot snapped his fingers. “Oh, there’s one… uh what was it? Did some work a few years ago for a couple of folks and used… Ready something. Ready Solutions? Something like that?”
“Ready Vector Solutions?” Thumper said, a few moments later. “Collision detection and avoidance?”
“That sounds right, yeah,” Elliot said. “Anybody used recently?”
“Not in the past couple of years, at least. Looks pretty clean.”
“Commercial?”
“Industrial,” Thumper answered. “But could be looking to expand maybe, if we needed it?”
Elliot thought it over for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I think that’ll work. Looking for partnerships, maybe. Yeah, I can work with that. That’ll make it a lot easier for me to stay in touch with you. Sort of a known-connection kind of deal. Making introductions, that sort of thing. How long you folks think you’ll need in town?”
“We’d be done in a couple of hours if it were up to us,” Mike said.
“Best case,” Wright said. “I’d say five, maybe seven days. We have two objectives, but we only know where one of them is. Need at least two days to recon that site. We were hoping you might be able to help us out with the second.”
“Understood,” Elliot said. “Happy to do whatever I can. Probably the less time you spend inside, the better it is for me. And I’m all about me, you know. What are you after?”
“Two pieces of a puzzle,” Lincoln said. It was going to be delicate, giving Elliot enough information to go on without risking compromising SUNGRAZER’s security any further. “The asset in question has some specific, specialized communications protocols. One objective is to handle command-and-control. That one we’ve got the location for. The second objective has to do with the method of communication. That one we have some ideas about, but not enough to go on.”
Elliot grunted. “Probably going to have to give me a little more than that, if you want me to be of any particular use.”
“Yeah,” Lincoln said. “Sorry. It’s a sensitive situation.”
“Obviously,” Elliot answered, smiling again. “When they send soldiers who don’t exist to talk to a spook who doesn’t exist, I guess we can’t expect all the cards to be on the table.”
“It’s more that if you don’t already know, it’s better to keep it that way,” said Lincoln.
“Oh, I understand. Pretty much everything is need-to-know in my line of work. I’m used to it,” Elliot replied. He grimaced, and then added, “Well, I don’t think you get used to it. But I get it, anyway… even if I’m the guy who got you here in the first place.” He threw the comment away, with a sly smile.
Lincoln looked at the NID agent for a moment, while his brain worked back through the chain of events that brought them all to this point. He found the connection.
“You didn’t happen to turn some NID techs onto a communications burst, by any chance?” Lincoln asked.
“I can neither confirm nor deny the Directorate’s sources or methods,” Elliot said. Then he smiled. “But yeah, I gave them the Ava Leyla. That’s why I wasn’t too surprised when they came back later and told me a team was looking to get in. I mean, obviously I didn’t know why they were asking, what they were looking for exactly. Still don’t. But I picked up on some business dealings betw
een a couple of shady types, moving high-spec commo hardware out of the Republic. Put two and two together and actually came up with four for once. Just one of those random right-place-right-time kinds of situations.”
“A lucky break,” Thumper said.
Elliot nodded. “Almost lucky enough to make me believe in a higher power.”
“You don’t?” Mike asked.
“Nah. I figure if there was one, he probably wouldn’t let people like me run around making a mess for so many others.” He tossed it off with a casual smile, but as he let it fade, Lincoln noticed him glance at the window and a brief shadow swept across his face. More truth to his words than he wanted to admit, maybe. A man in his position, operating in the grey for so long… Lincoln could only imagine the hard stories Elliot must have had.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lincoln saw Sahil stifle a yawn, barely. Lincoln couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen Sahil show any sign of weariness.
“Do we need the whole team to work the rest of the details?” Lincoln asked.
Elliot shook his head. “Don’t guess so. Pretty much just need to work out getting you in. I figure you need to get a lay of the land before you make too many plans, huh?”
“Absolutely right,” Lincoln answered. “Thumper, why don’t you hang out with Elliot and me for a little bit longer, and let’s get the cover worked out. Rest of you can knock off, get some sleep while you can.”
“I’m good,” Sahil said. Wright nodded.
“Me too, I’m fine, sir,” she said.
“I’m smoked,” said Mike.
“I know you’re anxious to get in,” Elliot said. “But I think we’ll hop an evening flight tomorrow. There’s always a good influx of business types around 1900 hours. Long lines tend to make the customs folks less curious. We can wrap things up for the night, finalize details in the morning.”
Lincoln managed to convince the rest of his team to call it a night, though he kept Thumper and Elliot up past midnight solidifying their cover stories and identities. When he finally went to bed his body was exhausted, but his brain kept him awake for another hour, trying to process all the details he had to keep in mind. No matter how much he trusted his teammates, Lincoln knew if anything went sideways, he would be the only one he could hold responsible. They were all counting on him to lead them, and to get it right. There were still so many unknowns, so much at stake, and so little margin for error. He drifted off to fitful sleep, dreaming of the ways it could all go wrong.
