by J. N. Chaney
The hostages were in a state of pandemonium while the thieves searched the balconies for my position. I figured I had one more shot before they discovered me. Unfortunately, Rommel and Silversmith had disappeared into the corridor. So I looked for a thug who was clear enough not to pose collateral damage from my weapon.
An enforcer stood beside a black marble column, covering the room with his assault rifle. He was looking up, but the wrong direction, his body tragically vulnerable to my line of sight. I laid the crosshairs on his ear and fired. Like the first target, the man’s head exploded from the kinetic energy the rifle generated.
Before the headless corpse hit the floor, bullets pinged off the metal railing above me.
“Third-level balcony!” a man yelled over comms. “South side!”
I rolled away from the barrage, bringing the sniper rifle with me, and then shoved back from the ledge. Once I was clear, I pushed up and made for the hallway door. “That’s my cue,” I said.
“To the terrorists currently occupying the Oragga Complex,” boomed a voice from outside the building. I slowed, turning toward the lights glaring in the windows. It was the police. They were initiating contact loudspeakers.
12
I wanted to look out and survey the scene, but my instincts told me at least one enforcer was on his way to search this floor. I needed to move. I rushed into the hallway, turned into the stairwell, and headed up two floors. I could hear footsteps below, as well as a voice blasting over the police’s loudspeaker system.
“It’s only one assailant, sir,” said Lars.
“Great, thanks, pal.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
“Let me know if he decides to get interested in floors four or five, would ya?” I asked.
“As you wish.”
By the time I emerged into the fifth-story balcony, the police negotiator was still blasting on his microphone. “Again, the communicator is clean, and the officer walking toward you is unarmed.”
I cautiously edged toward the balcony railing, careful to stay out of sight from any goons below. Outside, I watched as a single person approached the main doors. He was bathed in spotlights and wore a tactical vest and helmet. His hands were raised, but he carried a handheld comm unit in his right hand. It was a police issued ABET—alternating band encrypted transmitter. Basically, a really fancy two-way radio.
“Lars, do you see this?” I asked
“I do, sir.”
“Any chance you can hack that ABET?”
“Highly unlikely, sir.”
Way to piss on my parade, I thought. “Can you at least try?”
“I will attempt to as soon as the unit passes within range of my sensors array.”
“Great, thanks.”
“However, I would like to note that—”
“It’s highly unlikely,” I said, cutting him off. “I’ll consider myself prepared for disappointment.”
“Yes, sir, that is all.”
I watched as the cop edged closer to the building and made a show of slowly placing the ABET on the ground less than a meter from the front door.
“Oubrick, they’ve placed a radio outside the door,” someone said over the enemy comms.
“Use a hostage, get the radio,” Oubrick replied.
“Copy.”
People screamed as a thug grabbed a hostage from the crowd. I risked a glance down as a man forced a woman out the glass door nearest the police radio. He kept one hand on her while he bent down to retrieve the device, then retreated into the building. He tossed the radio to another man, who then moved around toward the stairwell doors.
“Sir,” Lars said. “I’m unable to break the encryption on that unit. However, assuming the device is used within proximity of someone using an in-ear comm, we should be able to monitor any conversations.”
“Well, that’s better than nothing,” I said.
Lars paused, then said, “You were hoping to transmit over the channel?”
“Damn straight, I was.”
“A salient thought, sir.”
“Whatever the hells that means.”
“It means—”
“I don’t care what it means.”
“But, sir, based on—”
“Can it, Lars. I need to think.”
If the cops were supplying a two-way-radio, it meant that the lockdown wasn’t as wide-reaching in terms of shutting down frequencies as I thought. Maybe the software engineers hadn’t completely screwed the system up. Maybe they’d allowed for a few bandwidths to remain usable, perhaps certain channels known only by local law enforcement.
“Lars, I thought the lockdown knocked out all transmissions,” I said.
“The term is subjective,” Lars replied. “It’s impossible to block access to all known energy waves.”
“Just the most common ones,” I suggested.
“The most important ones,” Lars corrected.
“Any chance you have access to more fancy tech that would allow us to communicate with the suits outside?”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have any records indicating any such devices in the complex.”
“What about cooking something up like we did in the kitchen?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I included improvised electronics in my database query. The tolerated frequencies require advanced transmission and reception technology that is not readily available.”
“It was worth checking,” I said with a shrug.
“It was, yes.”
“How about the thug on the third floor?” I asked. “Staying busy?”
“He is nineteen percent complete with searching the third floor and poses no immediate threat to you.”
“Well, that’s a plus.”
A moment later, Oubrick’s voice filled the comm in my left ear. “Hello, is someone there?”
I froze, momentarily thinking he was addressing me. But then another voice answered, more distant than Oubrick’s. Apparently, Oubrick was keeping the line open for the rest of his team to hear the conversation.
“This is Lieutenant Alvin Sanders with the Sellion City Police Department. Who am I speaking with?”
“Lieutenant Sanders,” replied Oubrick, “I’m so delighted that you called me.”
“Well, I’m glad we’re talking, then. How can I help you?”
“How can you help me? This is just what I was hoping would happen.”
“Sir,” Lars said softly, appearing only in my opposite ear.
“Go ahead,” I said.
“I detect traces of sarcasm in Oubrick’s voice pattern.”
A smile formed on my face. “I feel like a proud dad right now, Lars.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Sanders continued. “You might not have a lot of people who are going to listen to you right now, but I want you to know that I’m one of them. I want to help you.”
“That really means a lot, Lieutenant Sanders.” Oubrick sounded as though he’d just received a free vacation. “I’m sure you’ll help more than you know.”
“What’s your name?”
“You can call me Hal.”
“Alright, Hal. So what is it you want?”
There was a brief pause as Oubrick snickered. Was he actually laughing? The sick bastard really did see this as a giant game, didn’t he. He was either the most delusional, most arrogant son of a bitch I’d ever encountered, or he had a plan so airtight that nothing was going to punch a hole in it.
Damn.
“I’m here for the restoration of rights of all true Ti Beirians.”
“The restoration of rights?” Sanders echoed. By the tone of his voice, it didn’t sound like he was expecting that one. “What rights?”
“Well,” replied Oubrick, clearing his throat, “I’m glad you asked. You see, I was born and raised in the mines ten kilometers down. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”
“Yes, of course I—”
“My parents and siblings
died mining prodium for EnerTron—the bastards.” Oubrick released the channel lock, laughing to whoever stood beside him. Probably Rommel.
“Prodium?” I asked Lars, with no attempt to hide the surprise in my voice. But the AI didn’t reply.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Hal,” Sanders interjected.
“As am I,” Oubrick said, composing himself. “If you only knew.”
“So what is it you want, then? You said ‘rights.’ Is that reparations?”
“No!” Oubrick’s voice turned belligerent. “We are here to demand that the Union turn planetary refinery rights over from the EnerTron Corporation to the Ti Bier Liberation Front.”
There was a brief pause as I pictured the lieutenant covering his mic and ordering his team to start a search on the organization.
“The Ti Bier Liberation Front?” I asked Lars.
“Searching,” he replied. “Interesting…”
“Talk to me, Lars.”
“The Ti Bier Liberation Front, or TBLF, is a legitimate but extremely small rebel movement based in the tunnels beneath the planet’s surface. Hardly the type of organization capable of this kind of takeover, sir.”
“Just what I thought.” It was a cover.
“If I were a betting AI,” Lars continued, “my inclination would be to wager that Oubrick is playing the police crisis negotiator.”
“Then you’d be making a pretty good return on those odds, my logically astute sidekick.”
“Sidekick? As in the action holo-movies?”
“The very ones.”
“That is a privilege, sir. Thank you.”
“Not a problem.”
Sanders’s voice came back over comms. “Hal, I’m not sure we have the means to—”
“You’ll find the means!” Oubrick spat. “Or I’ll start killing hostages!”
“Whoa, there’s no need to kill any hostages, Hal. We’ll work this through.”
“Oh yeah? Well, until I get what I want, I’m going to kill a hostage every hour on the hour. And believe me, I have a big pool to work through before I reach the end of my bargaining power.”
“Okay, okay,” Sanders conceded. “We can get this in motion. But right now, I’m your only friend out here. There are a lot of people who aren’t taking kindly to what you’ve done. So I need you to give me something.”
Oubrick chuckled off-mic again, then composed himself and said, “And what would that be? Can’t you hear how upset I am right now?”
“I can, I can,” Sanders assured him. “But we need a show of good faith.”
“Good faith? Good faith? Where was good faith when I watched my parents suffocate in the mines when EnerTron forgot to turn on the ventilators? Where was good faith when my siblings and cousins were crushed under the weight of mining carts and jack hammers? Huh? Where was it, Lieutenant Sanders?”
“I feel bad for your losses, Hal. I do. But what matters most right now is what you choose to do next. Why don’t you release one of those hostages and let the world know that you’re a reasonable man. You are a reasonable man, aren’t you, Hal?”
Oubrick and his men laughed openly at this, making fun of the lieutenant’s attempts at empathy. For Sander’s sake, I sure hoped the man knew he was being played. But depending on how seasoned he was, that might not be the case.
“I’m a reasonable man, yes,” Oubrick replied. “So… I’ll do as you say.”
“Good, good. That’s excellent.”
“I’ll release a hostage now.”
“Thank you, Hal. And I’ve just received word that we have made contact with someone inside the TBLF as well as EnerTron’s CEO.”
“Okay,” Oubrick said. “The hostage is coming out now.” Then, over comms he said, “Send a hostage out. Give them four paces, then shoot them.”
Gods, no. I moved toward the balcony railing, much closer than I should have. An enforcer reached down and yanked a young woman to her feet who couldn’t have been more than twenty.
I pulled my sniper rifle up and took aim, but the woman was blocking my shot. Move out of the way!
The thug opened a door, now bathed in white light from the onlooking emergency vehicles, and shoved the woman out. She had taken four steps, when the man raised his assault rifle.
But I shot first.
The round punched a hole through his chest, slamming him to the floor so hard, I could hear his head crack from the fifth level. But his hand locked around his weapon’s grip, squeezing the trigger. The weapon, apparently set to full auto, danced around the floor, spraying bullets out the door, against it, and into the lobby.
“Fifth floor!” a voice yelled over comms.
“Report! Where’s the hostage?” Oubrick asked, his voice strained.
“She’s… she looks alive,” said another voice. I looked to confirm his assertion, seeing the woman outside crawl toward several officers who raced to meet her. Through my scope, I saw that she’d been shot at least twice in the lower leg, a red trail following her on the concrete. She’ll live.
“You incompetent fools,” Oubrick said. “What’s going on up there?”
“We have a shooter on the fifth floor, sir,” said the first voice. Then, in a commanding tone, he said, “Travis, Lundgren, back Whitey up.”
“Travis here. Copy that, sir,” Travis replied.
I had to move.
More bullets struck the railing in front of me, forcing me to leap back. I covered my head and headed toward the door into the hallway.
“I wouldn’t use that door, sir,” Lars cautioned. “An assailant is emerging through the fifth-level doorway, and two more have entered the stairwell on the ground floor.”
“Got it,” I replied, slinging my sniper rifle and pulling out my MX090. I stepped to the side of the door and waited for the assailant to approach, the one named Whitey. “Time to bring the hurt.”
When entering a building or a room, most combatants focused on the doorway itself, choosing to ram it or shoot through it in an attempt to catch the enemy off guard. The reality, however, was that most walls on either side of a door were far weaker. Knowing where the enemy was standing—even an educated guess—could turn the wall and not the door into a deadly advantage.
“Sir,” said Lars, “the assailant is now directly behind the door.”
“Then let’s give him something to shoot, shall we?” I used my rifle’s barrel to tap the door’s lever. No sooner had I pulled the weapon away than bullet holes peppered the wood, shooting splinters across the lobby.
Gotcha.
I turned and aimed at an angle through the wall, imagining the perp’s body a meter away from the door. Then I squeezed off three rounds, varying their placement by only a few centimeters.
“Gods!” Whitey shrieked. I took that as my cue to kick the shredded door in and enter the hall. A man lay on the floor, bleeding from the chest. He struggled to bring his rifle up, eyes wide as he saw the assault rifle in my hands.
“Not so fast,” I said. I pictured the innocent people this man had already helped murder, aimed at his face, and pulled the trigger. Blood shot across the floor in a wide arc.
“The next two men are passing the third-floor landing,” Lars notified me. “They appear to be heavily armed, wearing body armor, tactical helmets, and carrying riot shields.”
“Fantastic. I’ve got to get down to the vault level,” I replied.
“I understand, sir, but you’ll need to get past the assailants named Travis and Lundgren first.”
“You’re sure there’s no other way?”
“Of course there is,” Lars insisted. “There is always the descender on the elevator cable.”
“Any other way than that?”
“No, sir. My apologies.”
An open fire fight with these next two guys would be bloody. From the sounds of it, they were both ready for battle—they probably armed themselves from the extra crates they rolled in. I stood a chance, thanks to my new weapons, but I’d still lose witho
ut proper cover and a superior position. It would be better to avoid them altogether, if I could, than risk a confrontation. Still, they’d only continue to be a threat later on if I didn’t deal with them now. The whole idea of fighting them was compounded by the fact that I needed to get down to Mrs. Silversmith, as her life was in imminent danger—if she wasn’t dead already. But if I didn’t deal with Travis and Lundgren, they’d just find another way to pop up and wreak havoc.
“Travis and Lundgren are passing the fourth floor landing, sir,” Lars informed me.
“I’ve got to pick them off one at a time,” I said, more for my own benefit than Lars’s.
“That would be ideal, sir. At their current rate of ascent, you have eight seconds to formulate a sufficient plan.”
No sooner had Lars finished the sentence when I spotted a fire extinguisher on the wall adjacent to me. I looked further down the hall and saw a second one. I had my plan—well, at least the first part of one. I ripped the nearest canister off the wall and laid it on the floor, then started running away from it. Once I’d reached the second extinguisher, I turned toward the first that was pointed in the direction of the men emerging from the stairwell, and opened fire on it.
“They’re coming through the door now, sir.”
“I got it!”
The bullet struck the extinguisher and it exploded, filling the middle of the hallway with a thick cloud of white retardant. The canister spun wildly, creating a perfect diversion as it clattered between the walls.
“We have them!” Travis roared over comm.
I ducked left into a large office with dozens of workstations and cubicles. Then I turned on the fire extinguisher and fired on it. The first shot pierced the high-pressure canister and sent it clattering down the hall, shooting out its dense white contents.
Gunfire erupted as Travis and Lundgren fired into the haze. I stepped further into the office as the white cloud chased after me, but stopped short when a voice broke the silence over comms.
“Mr. Sanders?” asked Oubrick.
“What’s going on in there, Hal?” the negotiator asked.
“No, no, no. I get to ask the questions. Why’d you shoot my hostage?”
