10:54:09 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lone Star Maximum Security Prison Complex Four, 8600 Hoover Parkway, Tacoma, Seattle, UCAS

Errand stood very still. He was in the center of a brilliant yellow circle a meter in diameter, painted on the floor. It showed the limit of his freedom. A millimeter beyond it, and the RFID triggers in the restraints he wore on his wrists and ankles would detonate the explosives sewn through them. It might not be enough to kill him, but it would make life damn unpleasant for a while. The cuffs themselves were carbon fiber composite with titanium reinforcements. Lone Star's answer to synthetically boosted musculature and reflexes that operated at fiber optic speeds. Given his usual arsenal of tools, Errand might have stood a chance of disabling the devices. But in the six weeks since his arrest he'd worn nothing but canvas slippers and a gray prison jumpsuit. His hands itched to hold a weapon again. But until that time happened, he remained standing very still.

The room itself was unremarkable, twenty meters on a side, with high ceilings covered by security gratings. The floor was concrete covered with grip-textured polymer, the kind that gave you a really nice abrasion when the guards threw you down on it. The walls were unmarked, blank slate gray impact plastic. In front of him, ten meters away, was a heavy blast door identical to the one that he was brought through. Black plastic domes in the corners covered security cameras, sophisticated units with multi-spectal imaging capabilities, full motion, zoom, and recorders. He knew they would be wired directly to the building's security servers, all data filed and indexed for later use. Someone, somewhere was undoubtedly watching the feed as well, sophisticated facial monitoring software running in real time, analyzing his every expression. Errand grimaced.

There's one for you, boys.

The reinforced blast door at the rear of the room opened. Booted footsteps filled the room, but Errand didn't look over until they moved abreast of him. Four Lone Star troopers in full body armor escorted a second prisoner to the yellow circle painted on the floor next to him. It was Tron. He was concerned, now. Whatever was going on, it wasn't good. Not if they had the two of them back together in the same room. The Lone Star troopers stepped back and the circle switched on. Errand watched Tron give an experimental tug on his restraints before resigning himself to the same enforced immobility.

"Hey," Tron said, "I thought you were in solitary?"

"Yeah, well, they let me out for my afternoon massage," replied Errand. The door in the back of the room slid shut behind the backs of the troopers. Tron checked the corners of the room, noting the cameras.

"Any ideas?" he asked.

"Only bad ones," replied Errand. Minutes passed.

"Man, I hope they hurry up. I've gotta piss like a racehorse." Tron shifted from foot to foot.

Errand couldn't help but laugh. Footsteps sounded from the rear of the room again, and the door hissed open once more. Errand and Tron craned their necks around to see the newcomer. The slim figure stumbling in the midst of the four Lone Star troopers wore a magemask, hiding his features until one of the guards snatched it off after the circle was powered up. The face revealed had the smooth olive complexion, and the dark, upswept eyes indicating an Asian heritage. The man tested his restraints before glancing around the mostly empty room. His gaze finally came to rest on his two fellow prisoners.

"Hey," said Tron.

"Hey," the man replied.

"Well, now that we're all acquainted," muttered Errand.

The door in the front wall of the room slid open. Seven men entered. The first four were soldiers, with corporate security written all over them. Instead of Lone Star issue Prison Riot armor, they wore heavy duty aramid jumpsuits with ceramic splinter plates. Integrated helmets were fed by filtered air from their backpacks, faceplates doubling as AR displays linked via a secure network among the squad, everything done in digital subdued urban camo. Errand hadn't seen stuff like it since Desert Wars, and even then that was a pale imitation of the sophisticated armor he was seeing here. The soldiers carried Ingram Smartguns in assault slings, and the weapons were already shouldered. He wondered what it was that would bring out a corporate tactical squad in full armor and kit. It also made him wonder about the man who walked among them, dressed only in a Tres Chic suit and a pair of designer sunglasses. The last two personnel through the door were the same as the first three, and they covered down on the blast door as if they expected an imminent breach. Apparently no one here was fragging around.

The suit stepped forward, glancing once around the room before removing his sunglasses and tucking them into the inner pocket of his jacket. He regarded the three prisoners standing motionless in front of him with frank appraisal. Errand noted that his step forward didn't obstruct the fields of fire from his bodyguards. The suit glanced at Errand.

"John...Smith. Aka Errand."

He looked over at Tron.

"And, Steve Smith, aka Tron. How appropriate. Which make you Jason Tzeng, or, as you're more popularly known, Mako. Gentlemen, among the three of you, you've been convicted of multiple counts of capital manslaughter, assault with a deadly weapon, armed robbery, grand theft auto, illegal possession of firearms, explosives, and illegally modified electronics, possession of stolen goods, trafficking in illegal substances, possession of unregistered magical spells, and performing magic without a license. Not to mention a host of smaller charges including trespassing, vandalism, discharging a firearm within city limits, et cetera. You've been given criminal SINs by Lone Star, your DNA profile complete and uploaded to all of the major law enforcement and security corporations around the globe."

As the suit spoke, a series of holographic displays flickered into life, hanging a meter in front of the three of them. On display were their criminal files, starting with vital statistics and flowing smoothly into the charges levied against them. Evidence, both still and full motion video, flickered past. Errand felt his jaw tighten as the last fateful firefight unfolded: Morwen and the Roadmaster going up in flames, Guidon and Mercury gunned down in the street, his arrest. Mako felt his lips pull back, exposing his teeth, as the cameras showed the brutal, no-hold's-barred brawl in the streets of Renton. The suit was still speaking, standing in front of Errand now.

"According to your court transcripts, you'll be eligible for parole in about fifteen to eighteen years, depending on your behavior. Once out, though, you'll find the world a much different place. Technology doesn't sleep, and there's a reason why they call state of the art 'cutting edge'. No one's going to have much use for a pair of washed up shadowrunners fresh out of prison."

The suit glanced over at Mako.

"Assuming you even survive, the long term psychological damage from magemasks has been well documented. Not to mention the natural suspicion the prison population views mages with. You might not even be functional when you're released. Even if you are, though, you'll find the world outside terribly unkind to ex-convicts. You might find work as a bouncer or some security guard on midwatch in the urban slums of Tacoma or maybe even overseas, in Kowloon or Cape Town, but no respectable company will hire you. And then, some night, a young, juiced up gillette is going to think you looked at him wrong, and put a pair of hollowpoints through your chest. And that'll be it. The end of the short, unhappy life of mister Smith."

The suit paused for a moment, glancing from face to face.

"Or, perhaps not."

He waved his hand through the holographic screens, and the data present there, the entire criminal identity associated with John Smith or Steve Smith, disappeared. Tron sucked in a breath at the kind of computing power necessary to eviscerate a Lone Star database that way, not to mention the corporate muscle required.

"A gilded cage is still a cage," he said calmly. "You'd have us serve out our sentence working for you instead of here."

"One time offer, limited availability. Twelve months working for me. Or as long as you survive." The suit's smile was momentarily shark-like. "After you're done, you're out, free and clear."

"What's the nature of the work?" asked Mako. The question had been on Errand's lips as well, but the slim Asian beat him to it.

"Whatever needs to be done," replied the suit.

"Figured as much," muttered Tron. "May I have a moment to confer with my colleagues?"

The suit gestured, turning his back to them, although there wasn't even the illusion of privacy.

"Still have to take a leak?" asked Errand.

"Naw, I'm too busy worrying about how badly this is going to turn out," replied Tron. Errand chuckled.

"So it's a yes then?"

Tron shrugged. "As much as I like the adventure of avoiding gang rape in the showers, I think I've had about enough of Lone Star's hospitality as I can stand."

He glanced over at Mako. "What about you, friend?"

The slim Asian man shrugged. "What choice is there, really? At least on the outside there's the illusion of freedom. Even if we are leashed in like corporate dogs."

"Sounds like a yes to me. Excuse me, mister?" Errand let his question drag out. The suit faced around, his expression so carefully neutral that it was almost believable he hadn't heard the conversation. His smile, though, was anything but friendly.

"de Medici. You may call me de Medici."

"Well, de Medici, it seems my friends and I find ourselves amenable to your business proposition."

"Excellent." de Medici pulled his sunglasses from his jacket pocket, flipping them open with a practiced gesture before slipping them on. "Welcome to Singularity."

Turning on his heel, he strode out, flanked by two of his soldiers. The three prisoners exchanged looks.

"Well, now what, boys?" asked Errand, glancing back at the soldiers still in their combat stances. His answer came in a hissing from the vents in the room, and although he couldn't see the gas, its effects were almost immediately noticeable. A part of him hoped that they turned off the circles before he passed out, but the darkness claimed him too quickly for him to even remember hitting the floor.

16:07:28 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

Tron rubbed his right shoulder absently as he stared out the window at the water far below. Late afternoon sunshine filtered through the heavily tinted Plexiglas, dimming slightly as the aircraft flirted with a low deck of cirrus clouds. The main cabin of the Lear was done in an executive transport layout, with four swiveling captain’s chairs forward, surrounding a pair of mahogany topped tables. When he, Errand and Mako woke from their chemical induced sleep, de Medici was seated in one of the forward ones, while they occupied the other three. Behind them were a series of small cabins, the galley, and the luggage compartment. An armored portal sealed off the cockpit from the main cabin.

“You seem pretty confident that we’re not going to kill you, take over the plane, and fly off to where ever we want to go,� said Errand, sipping from a bottle of water. de Medici smiled, and again Tron was struck by the vicious undertones of the gesture.

“We like to take precautions. As simple as it was to delete your criminal history from the databases, it will be only slightly more difficult to re-insert it. With a few embellishments. Say, for instance, that the two of you are convicted cop killers recently escaped from a transport convoy, that you should be considered armed and dangerous and shot on sight. How far do you think you’d make it when every security camera is looking for your face, every scanner for your DNA, every checkpoint for your fingerprints?�

He drank from the martini glass that rested on the table in front of him. Errand was willing to bet that if he’d had his gear, both he and Tron would have been able to make a clean getaway. He didn’t know the details of Mako’s abilities, but it never hurt to have a full mage backing you. But even with that, they still lacked Tron’s custom set of electronics, his weapons, not to mention a scrap of nuyen. Chances were pretty slim, and he had no doubt that in the end it would be a short and fatal freedom run. He sighed. de Medici smiled as if he’d been privy to Errand’s thoughts.

“Don’t get all twisted up about it now, we’re just starting our business relationship. It might be that you come to appreciate working for us.�

Tron snorted derisively. “Not bloody likely.�

de Medici shrugged. “That, too, could also be one of the end states. In any case, there are clothes waiting for you in the cabins as well as some…recreation.� Tron quirked an eyebrow at the leer obvious in de Medici’s voice, and turned to look behind him. The woman leaning against the doorway of the first cabin smiled at him. She wore a short navy blue jacket that left her entire midriff bare, and a matching skirt that came down just to the top of her thighs and was slit on the side all the way to her hip. And nothing else.

“I was wondering where the stewardesses were,� commented Mako dryly.

“Think there’s meal service, too?� asked Tron. de Medici laughed.

“Take your time, gentlemen, we still have another hour and a half before we reach our destination.�

16:15:00 to 16:30:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

Fraggin hell. Frag. Frag. More Frag.

Errand glanced over at his new "compatriat" Mako, trying hard not to look like he was scopeing the man out. If he had to kill him he needed to know as much about him as possible. In the whole world there were two people he trusted, one was himself, and the other was Tron, everyone else was a red dot away from death.

Lessons learned in fire.

He had long since gotten over the emotional pain of the betrayel, but the scar still burned. He had heard on the inside that Frost met a grissly end at the hands of his ex-girlfriend, or whatever she was. The message had been a little to convienent though and he wondered if Frost himself had'nt planted it to make sure that, if Errand ever did get out, he wouldn't be looking over his shoulder the rest of his life.

Errand snorted at the thought of Frost making such a complex plan. No, he was almost certain the man was dead. When such time came that they gave Tron access to the matrix again, and they would, he could make sure. As well as begin planning there eventual escape and or insurance against the inevitible betrayal that was comeing there way.

The two meter tall orc stood and stretched as well as he could in the cabin, no passenger aircraft ever made was of sufficient size to allow him to stretch all the way.


"If you'll excuse me, I'll freshen up before we get to our final destination."

That got a chuckle from somewhere. He walked toward the cabin, the girl was obvioulsy gorgeous, skinny, well proportioned, but she was human. And no human girl wanted to kiss tusks. Or be pawed by rough callused hands bigger than her head. He stopped next to her and breathed in deep.

"Been a long time since I smelled beautiful."

He left it at that and ducked into the cabin, he could feel the relief on her as he passed her up, instead chosing a solitary shower, tooth paste and a change of clothes. Fifteen minutes later he stepped out of the small shower feeling better than he had since the last day of freedom he had.

He felt almost like a man again, clean shave, teeth, and a hot shower, the only thing missing was the comforting weight of a heavy caliber pistol on his side. Some things would have to wait. As sure as he was that they would give Tron access to the net, they would put a gun in his hand again. How he used it was up to him, but there were few better than him to use it. If he hadn’t been so blindsided….



Fraggin hell slitch, you going to keep wining about that. She’s gone, he’s gone, 1 for 2 aint bad. To bad about Mercury though…

He pondered those toughts as he slipped into the body armor, suit, and tac boots his hoast left for him. They were tailored perfectly for his size. He looked every inch the combat professional. He slipped the glasses into his pocket, took a deep breath, and resumed his Samurai persona. If they wanted Errand the killer, they would get Errand the killer. The cabin door clicked has he opened it onto his new life. A life he hoped wouldn't end as quickly as the old one.

16:33:29 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

de Medici looks up with some surprise as Errand exits the cabin, but makes no comment. The main cabin is empty save for him and another of the women that were provided for the three of them. This one was a leggy black haired beauty, possibly of Amerind or polynesian stock. She slipped past him now carrying de Medici's empty martini glass, favoring him with a small smile before disappearing into the galley. Errand makes his way forward, seating himself in one of the plush captain's chairs across the table. He can see the flicker of de Medici's eyes, the unstable motion indicative of someone accessing information via AR.

"I am not altogether surprised that you elected not to enjoy Melissa's charms, your psych profile and operational history indicated a less than twenty three percent likelihood that you would engage in sex with an unknown female. If you change your mind, though, I can make Angela available to you." de Medici's voice was calm and matter of fact, but his gaze had focused onto Errand's face.

"If your hesitation as anything to do with the difference in your metatypes, please understand that it is no issue. I take a certain pride in the fact that when I offer a service, be it (meta)human or machine, that it will function in the manner that the consumer desires." He quirks something of a smile, though.

"But, I suppose it's too early to expect you to trust me on something like that. Hopefully, though, you will come to respect, if not trust, my word." Reaching down into the attache case at his feet, he withdrew half a dozen plastic flimsies, pushing them across the table towards Errand. The tall ork can see that they're aerial surveillance photographs of some part of the coastline, probably CalFree. A sliding scale on the left of the image responds to his touch, the digital paper zooming in to a one to fifty thousand scale. At this range Errand can clearly see the devastation so recently wrought on downtown Los Angeles. He glanced up at de Medici, who was sipping from another martini while Angela leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He laughed, patting one nicely rounded cheek.

"Maybe later, I believe that Errand and I have some business to discuss."

16:15:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

Mako glances at Errand and raises an eyebrow in surprise as the large ork brushes off the ‘stewardess’ who was offered to them. He’s tempted to read the man’s aura, find out exactly what he was thinking, pulling a move like that.

He seems like one of those types who takes the ‘samurai’ in ‘street samurai’ pretty damn seriously. I can respect that. Means he’s a professional. Professionalism is good. And right now, professionalism means I shouldn’t take the chance. If de Medici is offering her to us, who knows what his motives are?

He looks over at the woman, who winks at him in response. She’s gorgeous, and he hasn’t been around a woman since…well, since he checked into the Grey Bar Hotel. He looks at the closed cabin door Errand walked into, like a model of professionalism. Then he looks over at the woman, leaning against the doorway and eyeing him and the guy called Tron expectantly.

Frag professionalism. I’m sure de Medici already has a tissue sample, had a mage scan our auras, the works. If he’s going to double cross us, he’s not going to do it now, and not with the woman. There are too many other ways, not to mention more efficient and effective ones. Besides, he won’t do it until he’s got what he wants from us. So until then, I may as well get what I want. And I know what I want right now.

Rising to his feet, he nods to de Medici in thanks, and turns to the ‘stewardess’, a predatory smile their new employer would be proud of illuminating his features.

“Hey baby, what’s your name?� he asks as he strides towards her, a predator circling his prey.

She looks him up and down, changing her pose for maximum seductive effect, and smiles, licking her lips with her tongue. “Melis...�

Before she can finish, he’s already crossed the distance between the two of them and wrapped his arm around her waist. Yanking her body against his own, he pulls her hair back with his other hand, tilting her head so she can look up at him. She gasps, caught off guard by his unexpected forcefulness. Staring down at her, Mako holds her gaze for a moment, then kisses her forcefully, stifling her answer in her throat. After a moment, his tongue follows.

There’s nothing romantic or gentle in his actions. Just pure aggression and lust. At first she freezes, then her body relaxes and she responds, returning his kiss with equal intensity. Maybe it’s passion, maybe it’s just her training kicking in. He doesn't care. All he cares about is that she pleases him. And as her hand begins stroking him, warming him up, he grins as she begins doing exactly that.

Lowering his hand to her tight, firm ass, Mako squeezes it tightly, then breaks off the kiss and looks at Tron and de Medici. “You know where to find me if you want me.�

Without waiting for a reply, he turns back to Melissa (at least that’s what he thought she was about to say before he interrupted), and kisses her savagely again. Even as their lips touch, he’s already guiding her to another of the cabins. He pushes her back against the door, her body already grinding against his own, as she fumbles with the door latch.

Eventually, she manages to open it, and the door opens inward, the two of them tumbling inside. He turns and shuts the door, locking it. “So…what now?� she asks teasingly.

Apparently she’s quite skilled at raising a man’s blood, because the look she sends him makes him growl with anticipation. Then he pushes her onto the bed, where she lands with a soft cry of surprise at his forcefulness. He follows her to the bed, and after a few minutes, surprise turns to pleasure, growls turn to moans, and anticipation becomes reality.

16:36:00 to 16:40:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

"I like my women to be un-compelled Mr. de Medici", frag my tounge how the hell am I supposed to say that name every five minutes.

"Whatever your motives she's bought and paid for. And I only like that in guns and cars."

Errand picked up the pictures, considering the conversation over as he got down to business. L.A. Used to be a hole, now it was one literally. He had been stationed in Cal Free for two years so he had some familiarity with the local wildlife.

"I take this to mean we are operating in the 'zone?" The zone was the nckname for the area the quake destroyed. It was a lawless (or at least more lawless) area and not to be taken lightly. Good. Unrestricted operations would go a long way to lifting his mood, and his personal freedom.

16:50:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

Once again put into a position with no way out. They say sometimes you eat the dragon, but lately it seemed that the dragon has been eating Tron. Terms such as indentured servant, or disposable ran through his mind. and de Medici made him nervous. The only thing worse was the lack of matrix buzz. But, that would be taken care of soon enough.

Companionship is nice, but coming off the betrayal, Tron was not going to trust de Medici or his women. Errand was solid, Mako a wild card, but de Medici . . . well, at least it wasn't prison.

Hot shower, new cloths and a nap....that's what I need. Then, it will be time to sort this stuff out.

Tron brushed by the women without so much of a gaze in her direction. Showered and slipped into the clothing available.

Definitely a smooth operation, hopefully the equipment won't be substandard. Now for that nap.

16:41:08 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

“de Medici will do, no need to be exceedingly formal,� replied de Medici, ignoring the heat in Errand’s voice about the entertainment provided.

“And to answer your question, yes, our first operation takes us to Los Angeles. You’re looking at the Ares Macrotechnology SoCal headquarters complex. Cai and OpsDiv believe that there is an eighty four point one percent chance that the central building failed secure after the earthquake and flood. Which means that most, if not all, prototypes and research data would have been protected from the worst of the damage.�

He passed over another sheet of electronic paper to Errand.

“This supposition is reinforced by the presence of one of their LC-100 class patrol corvettes anchored close by. Ares has broadcast a notice indicating that it still claims corporate airspace above and around the building, and will interdict with lethal force if anything violates that airspace. So it’s going to have to be an underwater insertion.� de Medici’s voice takes on a speculative tone, different from the certainty with which he’s detailed the facts of the situation. Errand gets the impression that this operation is still in the planning stages, and de Medici is contemplating alternatives.

The image on the paper is an overhead shot of a sleek warship, probably taken from about five to seven thousand meters up from a reconnaissance drone. The slate gray tumblehome hull rose smoothly from the waters of the Pacific, sharkfin-like in the rake of its bow and superstructure. Zooming in, Errand could clearly make out the pair of turrets, fore and aft on the vessel, as well as the armored hatches covering the VLS cells. Data tags spangled the image at his request, indicating the vessel’s main armament was a 15cm gauss cannon, while the secondary turret mounted a Vanquisher autocannon. The launch cells probably contained a mix of supersonic ASCMs and SAMs. The LC-100s weren’t anything more than littoral combatants, so they lacked a serious shore bombardment capability.

“Three of us against this thing?� asked Errand. de Medici smiled.

“No, not this time. Like I said, you’ll go in underwater. Based on some preliminary reconnaissance, I think you’ll be able to enter via one of the secondary freight elevator shafts in the rear of the building.�

Errand set the image of the Ares warship aside and watched as the view on the original sheet morphed into the too-smooth texture of computer generated graphics. The viewpoint dove beneath the waves, circling the ruined and submerged structure of the Ares building before zooming in close to what used to be the rear loading dock. Now it appeared as a jumble of concrete slabs, rebar, and shards of construction plastic. But Errand could clearly see the set of three cargo elevators, double doors still closed and proof against the water.

“It’ll flood as soon as we cut through,� he said. “As long as what you want is waterproof, though, it won’t be a problem.�

“Actually, Cai believes that there is an eighty eight point seven percent likelihood that the shaft will not flood. Rather, the air trapped inside will act against the water flowing in from the bottom. Kind of like when you plunge an upside down empty glass into a tub of water? The air stays trapped and prevents the water from filling the glass. There will likely be some flooding until the pressure equalizes, but nothing more than five or ten meters of the shaft.� Again, the graphics shifted to display the course of events that de Medici briefed.

“So what, exactly, is it that we’re after?� Errand dropped the sheet back on the table.

“Project AM-4703-67M. Data and prototypes should be within lab complex two, on the twenty seventh floor. The building has no power, of course, so you’ll just have to pull the datacores from the lab computers.�

de Medici glances up sharply.

“Please understand that this is a preliminary briefing only, the intrusion plans have not been finalized yet. We’ll receive a full briefing once we’re on the ground. Right now, though, I’d like you to start drawing up a list of required and recommended gear that your team will need to complete this operation. There are AR glasses and gloves in the compartment attached to your seat.�

16:51:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

Errand glances over at Tron and sighs. Nothing was ever easy.

"Well it's totally doable, tactically speaking. But first things first, we need commlinks to plan this op. Tron is going to have some specifications for his that are more than mine. For me as long as it's high end off the shelf I'm good to go."

He pauses for a minute making calculations in his head...

"Whats our budget look like. I need to know what we can get and can't get, and what we have access to. I also need to know our jumping off point."

16:52:39 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

de Medici shook his head. "I don't have any equipment for you on board beyond what has already been provided. If you wish to submerge, I do have VR kits available, though. What I said about this being a preliminary briefing is true, we have not yet established the optimum insertion point for your team, although I suspect, based on mission parameters, that we can put you in via surface vessel at approximately five to seven hundred meters from the target. Assume an operational budget of approximately seventy five thousand nuyen. Once we receive our briefing from OpsDiv I will have a clearer picture of the resources that have been allocated to us."

16:58:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific


Errand nods.

"Fair enough. Is there any distuinguishment in the budget between mission specific gear, and general gear we will be using on a regular basis? Or are we going to have to start from scratch each mission?"

The tactical part of his mind, the part that enjoyed the complex problems of missions ops was kicked in now. All other concerns were sidetables, for the moment. Now Errand just wanted to put the team in the best place possible to complete the mission. If de Medici let him.

16:58:49 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

"For now, assume that it is mission specific gear. Whether or not you are issued personal equipment depends mostly on you."

de Medici set aside the image in his left hand, focusing solely on Errand.

"It's a matter of trust. If you demonstrate that my trust in you will not be misplaced, then I can equip you as you desire. You can live where you chose, travel the city as you chose, associate with whom you chose. If, however, I find that my trust has been misplaced, then I can just as easily confine you to the compound. You will remain alone in your rooms until briefing time, and then you will be injected into the mission, monitored throughout, and returned to your holding cells when the task is complete."

de Medici steeples his fingers in front of him, his voice calm and level, eyes impenetrable.

"This is not a threat. In my study of your profile I have come to understand that your decision making process is similar to mine, you prefer to have as much of the details as possible before deciding on a course of action. This is me giving you those details. What course we pursue from here is up to you."

17:05:49 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

Errand Nods at the words.

"Mr. de Medici, you have my profile, you know I was a Marine, and you know why I got thrown out. You also know what happened to the last guy that betrayed me. So far you've played it straight with us, I'm going to play it straight with you. Tell us the missions, give us the gear we need, and we will get it done. You give us the freedom we need to do the job you want us to do, and not feel like we are in another prison, you wont regret it. But don't expect me to use your whores or have dinner at your house, neither one of those actions is, in my mind, professional. You want us for 12 months, you got us. Soka?"

17:06:12 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Lear Platinum IV Business Jet, southbound at 8000m over the Pacific

de Medici smiles. “As long as we understand one another, then.�

Turning his chair forward, he folds his hands in his lap, tilts his head back and closes his eyes. Errand is left alone in the cabin.

17:42:51 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

The rest of the flight passed in silence, de Medici only glancing up once to inform Errand of their impending landing. By that time, both Mako and Tron had joined him in the main cabin, and he’d briefed them on the details of the upcoming operation. Both runners had added items to the gear list he’d compiled.

The Lear had flown a dizzying approach into the airfield, a maneuver that Errand remembered from the insertions he’d done into a hot LZ. He wondered momentarily at the necessity of it, given that they were landing at what de Medici characterized as Singularity’s base of operations. The fact that it was performed at all, much less routine, seemed to indicate that the people he was working for were used to the harsh realities of life at the sharp end.

The business jet taxied clear of the runway at a brisk pace, heading across the tarmac towards one of five massive hangars. All three runners kept their eyes outside, drinking in information that could be of immediate use.

“The field was built during the heyday of the cargo zeppelin, about ten years ago,� supplied de Medici, noting their interest.

“It never really lived up to its potential, by the time construction was done the zeppelins were once again out of favor. Most now are limited to other countries, traversing distances over harsh terrain where roads are poorly maintained. Our own infrastructure here was developed enough that they were never really economical. The hangars came cheap, Singularity owns 5A and 5B.�

As he spoke, the Lear approached the massive twin hangars. The doors to Hangar 5B opened ponderously, armored sections sliding aside to reveal the dim interior. Ground crew sprinted across the tarmac, the director already in position. Two other similar jets are parked inside, as well as a pair of Hughes Stallion utility helicopters. Both helicopters wore matte gunmetal camouflage, with bulbous turrets just forward of the sliding personnel hatches. None of the vehicles carried markings of any nature.

The Lear’s engines died, silence invading the cabin with a suddenness. Shadows, as well, as the hangar doors closed quickly behind them. The overhead lighting was just a shade dimmer than the setting sun outside. The cabin door opened and two of the armored corporate soldiers who’d escorted de Medici in Seattle stepped out. The aircraft’s exterior hatch unsealed, folding itself down into a set of stairs. The guards descended first, followed by de Medici, then Tron, Mako, and Errand.

Standing outside the aircraft, they were at last able to gauge the size of the hangar with true perspective. The arcs of the supporting steel girders met some fifty meters overhead, and apart from the numerous halogen arc floodlights, Tron can see the narrow rails for Ares Sentinel drones. An open hangar space like this is ideal for them: despite the vast scale, their height advantage and the lack of internal dividers would allow almost all of the rail drones in the system to engage a possible intruder.

The interior space is divided, though: four meter tall screens of metal mesh cloth hang from heavy construction plastic frames, obscuring the line of sight deeper into the hangar. A three story building juts out from the western wall of the hangar, stretching almost the entire length of the massive building.

As the three runners with him assimilate their new surroundings, de Medici approaches a pair of individuals obviously waiting for him. Unlike the slim corporate suit, these two radiate the quiet, predatory intensity of professional operators. It’s the woman who addresses de Medici.

“OpsDiv is ready to brief you immediately. There’s been movement on the building.�

de Medici nods, turning to glance over his shoulders at the three runners.

“Gentlemen, I’m afraid proper introductions will have to wait, our timeline is even more immediate than I first indicated. Follow me.� Without waiting to see if his instructions are obeyed, he sets off at a brisk pace towards the building. The two operators follow him, but the pair of guards wait until Tron, Mako, and Errand move before falling in behind.

The building’s doors slide open without de Medici presenting any apparent identification. Errand glances at Tron, who shrugs.

Could be RFID, could be a security hacker watching and running things behind the scenes.

The hallway revealed could have been straight out of the Lone Star prison: gray polymer sheathing on the deck, impact plastic walls, overheads protected by steel gratings. It doesn’t have the monolithic institutional feel to it, though, that the prison had. Instead, it strikes Errand as more militaristic in it’s drab uniformity, as if prefabricated building sections had been dovetailed together to produce the building.

They pass several groups of people in the hall, all of them moving with the same businesslike air that de Medici displays. They all move aside, though, as the group approaches, pressing themselves up against the walls to clear the way when necessary. After a five minute walk, with half a dozen turns, they arrive at their destination. A set of double doors slides open to reveal a large briefing room.

The central table is an elongated ellipsoid, with eight seats to a side. Each chair is equipped with a separate data display and interface, as well as jacks for VR equipment. On three of the walls were large smartscreen displays, fully holographic and AR equipped. de Medici gestures for people to sit, he himself takes a seat at the middle. Errand notes that the guards have not followed them inside the briefing room. The woman sits to his right, while the man sits next to her. de Medici glances up, then points to each in turn.

“This is Cyrenne,� the woman nods, “and Kiyonaga,� the man inclines his head. “They’ll be your handlers on most, if not all operations. In the field, Cyrenne speaks for me.�

He glances over towards the head of the table, then grimaces.

“Cai, please use the holographic transmitters for this briefing, we have not yet equipped all team members with the appropriate AR gear.�

In response to his request, the air near the head of the table flickers, resolving itself into the image of a young Japanese woman, perhaps in her mid twenties. Tron wonders for a moment if it is representative at all of the hacker who was obviously briefing them from some remote location.

“Of course, sir. On that note, we have processed the equipment request form you filed from the air and will have all items approved by OpsDiv for this operation ready by twenty one hundred hours.�

“What was the match?�

“Seventy eight point four percent. OpsDiv is confident that no vehicular or hardened security systems remain operational inside the building, thus the requisition for anti-vehicular ammunition and EMP grenades was reduced. Additionally, there was not enough time to complete any weapon modifications or additional armor modifications.�

de Medici glanced across the table at Errand.

“Sorry. I’ll check with OpsDiv again tomorrow morning to see what I can do about increasing the allocation, but they’re notoriously stingy. All right, Cai, let’s hear what you’ve got.�

The wall screens spring to life, showing the same image that the three of them reviewed on the plane. This one was a more recent surveillance shot, only six hours old.

“The target is the Ares Macrotechnology SoCal Headquarters Campus Building One. The building was constructed fifteen years ago, primarily out of reinforced concrete with steel and fiber reinforced composites for non-structural members. It was built to administer all of Ares’ operations in CalFreeState, as well as serve as a central research and development laboratory and storage depot. Due to the centralized nature of the building, it was decided at the time of construction to utilize the newest in security technologies and to set the system for ‘fail secure’. During the earthquake and subsequent flood, we believe that this ‘fail secure’ design would have protected most, if not all electronic information stored on-site, as well as most of the non-volatile organic research specimens.�

Information scrolled across all three screens: digital images and schematics of the building itself, old surveillance shots, similar security installations at other buildings. Sections of the building highlighted themselves in response to Cai’s briefing, seamlessly drawing attention to the points she was trying to make.

“Your target is here, lab complex two on the twenty seventh floor. This is the primary research lab for AM-4703-67M. OpsDiv expects that the data for the project will be contained within two to five holographic data cores or possibly burned onto high capacity optical memory discs stored in the lab. There should be no prototypes present. Based on our simulations of collapse and flood, we believe that the central structure of the building remains intact and sound. You should be able to access the twenty seventh floor via these series of cargo elevators here. The shafts will take you to within forty meters of the labs. With no power to the building, you will have to cut your way through doorways. On the non-lab deck floors, it may be more efficient to cut through the walls, as they are probably less structurally sound than the doorways. However, be aware that while we believe that the structure has survived intact, there is no way to tell what portions, if any, are flooded. If you cut through a doorway expecting to access the room beyond, you may instead find a stream of inrushing water.�

“Cyrenne mentioned activity?� prompted de Medici. In response, the main screen cleared to an overhead surveillance shot. Cai nodded.

“Yes, this was recorded four hours ago.�

The view zoomed in until the building as well as it’s warship guardian were onscreen. Errand had assumed that the ship was anchored next to the building, but the sudden bloom of white water at its stern proved him wrong. The vessel heeled over at the sudden acceleration, curving around the building. The aft turret slewed to the side at the same time that the surveillance picture jumped. It was an artifact of post-processing, the intel section had gone back over the feed and isolated the warship’s target. The drone’s sensors recorded the entire scene, not just the field of review. It appeared to have been a semi-submersible vessel, perhaps only eight or ten meters long. It didn’t so much explode as simply come apart under the hail of autocannon rounds. In a second the water was reduced to a boiling cauldron of white confetti amidst a swirling rainbow sheen of oil and diesel fuel.

“The real problem was this, though.� Cai’s voice was flat and emotionless.

The surveillance view jerks once again, focusing down on the wreckage of the small boat before panning to the right. It held for a moment, then the water churned. A head and arm appeared, covered in what appeared to be either a wetsuit or a dark jumpsuit. At first it looked like the swimmer was signaling, but the truth became clear when he was suddenly thrust head and torso out of the water. The dark gray wedge shaped head and triangular fin are unmistakable, and the water froths around the gray dappled flanks as the shark pulls its victim under.

“Based on post-attack imagery analysis we believe it to be one of the new Series Four biodrones.� Cai gestures to one of the side screens where the triple elevation view of the sleek predatory fish draws itself.

“First deployed last year, they’re based on the highly successful predator galeocerdo cuvier or tiger shark. Aggressive in nature, they have well developed senses that allow them to hunt in murky in-shore waters. Perfect for patrol and guard animals.�

18:05:51 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity AO HQ, Simi Valley, CFS
Errand grimaced as the drone methodically and viciously devoured the swimmer.

No drones huh, reduced the allocation for our AV and EMP weapons, right. Errand studied the image up, down, and sideways. Looking for the weakness in the system. Surface ships, drones, magic that they didn't see. Any nut could be cracked it just needed the right nut crackers.

"Before I propose a plan, I have a couple of questions. How deep is the water? And what floor is it estimated to have flooded the building to? Also, is the obvious addition of drones to the equation going to change the 'bean counters' mind about AV ammo and EMP grenades?"

Errand sat back in the over sised chair. Another thought occured to him.

"Cai, can you pull up the plans for the surrounding streets, sewer, electrical, etc? And can someone get Tron a commlink so we can succeed at this OP?"

18:08:03 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity AO HQ, Simi Valley, CFS

Cai obediently gestured to the left wall screen, and a pre-flood street map flashed to life. After a moment, storm drain lines overlaid themselves in blue.

de Medici glanced at Errand a small smile on his face.

"Unfortunately, you will not be able to engage the drone directly. To do so would alert Ares to our presence and rouse the full weaponry of the sentinel vessel against you. No, stealth remains our best option and I think we have just the ticket. Along with the concealment that Mako can generate, we're going to use our own biodrones to mask your approach."

He made a few gestures, apparently to empty air but it was clear that he was manipulating AR objects. Another triple elevation sprang to live next to the Ares biodrone.

"Sealions?" asked Tron skeptically.

"Exactly. They're fast, inquisitive, and prevalent in the area. We'll use two of them to mask your approach to the building."

Kiyonaga slid a pair of AR glasses and gloves across the table towards Tron. de Medici glanced over before focusing his attention back on the screen. Cai turned back to Errand.

"The water level here is eighty meters, give or take. We believe that the building is flooded perhaps to the second or third floor."

18:08:03 Monday, 13 October 2070 ��" Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity AO HQ, Simi Valley, CFS

"Ok, thanks Cai" he gave the woman a nod.

"Sea Lions, great. While they're keeping the drone occupied we can use the storm drains to approach the building. There shouldn't be more than... 10 meters of open ground that we hanve to risk it. Hopefull by that time our Lions will have them plenty busy. So, anything else we should know?"

18:10:26 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

"H-hour is midnight tonight. You'll leave by truck for Santa Barbara, board the boat there, and insert approximately eight hundred meters from the building. Hopefully your approach will be as uneventful as you plan. The exfiltration will have to be similar. The vessel will return to pick you up in three hours, or as soon as we receive your signal." Cai completed the rest of the briefing. de Medici glances at the three runners.

"You've got three hours before your gear is ready for inspection. Cyrenne will show you to your temporary quarters."

18:10:26 Monday, 13 October 2070 ��" Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Errand nods and rises, "well then Sir, we'll see you in 12 hours, with your data."

18:19:33 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Cyrenne rises smoothly to her feet and exits the room with the three in tow. This time the guards do not follow. The five minute journey that follows is enough to convince them that all of the Singularity headquarters building was made of the same stuff. The corridors never varied in width or height or construction. The rooms were all labeled with the same generic index code, the numbers rising or falling at regular intervals. At last they came to another armored blast panel. This one featured a card-reader maglock that accepted a thin silvery card from Cyrenne before opening. The room beyond is at total odds to everything demonstrated so far.

At first glance it could have been the living room of any middle lifestyle apartment that Errand has ever seen. A square table against the wall, a couple of chairs and a sofa around a trideo unit. To the side was a small kitchenette. Five rooms opened off the central one, three small bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small workout area, complete with a canvas mat on the floor and a nautilus machine.

"It's only temporary until we've completed your housing arrangements. I'm sorry we can't do better but we weren't anticipating such a quick turn around on this operation. Usually we have at least thirty six to forty eight hours to get you settled. If you need anything, you can use the house phone to call me, I'm speed dial one. Otherwise I'll see you at twenty one hundred?"

The rising tone in her voice indicates now would be the time to ask questions if they have any. Her demeanor is businesslike, but Errand can sense an underlying certainty about her, something that tells him her words aren't bland excuses for corporate mismanagement, but the data as she understands it. In the warm light of the room, he can see that she's actually very pretty, with high, curving cheekbones, bright eyes, and soft, full lips. Although the Actioneer business clothes are deliberately cut loose to permit a full range of movement as well as to assist in the concealment of weapons, he can tell from the way she moves that she's fit and athletic, probably skilled in some form of unarmed combat as well. Cyrenne turns to find Errand appraising her, and he sees her eyes darken for a moment before a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

18:30:01 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Temp Quarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Tron looks at both Errand and Mako.

"Well, guess better start thinking of some Standard Operating Procedures for our team."

This is going to be one hell of a run. Nothing too difficult, just Tiger Sharks. But, at least it isn't prison.

"Do we know what type of gear we are receiving yet...it doesn't sound like much prep time" Tron wondered aloud.

I sure hope they don't short change us too much. If only I could get access to the matrix...but that will come with time.

18:30:38 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Temp Quarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Mako flops down on the sofa and looks at the other two men. "You two have worked together before, right? Why don't you guys fill me in on your playbook, and how you want me to fit in. No point reinventing the wheel, right?"

18:32:38 Monday, 13 October 2070 ��" Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Temp Quarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Errand grins back at the girl. A genuine smile, the first he's had in six weeks. He watches her leave, admiring the view, then closes the door behind her.

"Ok, Mako right? As you know I'm Errand and this is Tron. He's our hacker extrodinare and I'm a trigger puller. And yeah, we worked together before... before all of this. Generally speaking pre mission we can hash out what we want to do, but when it comes to go time we do our plan, and I'm in charge."

He waits for the inevitble argument, and when it doesn't come.... Ok, he just went up a notch on the respect-o-meter.

"As for the mission lets go over it again, while were waiting for gear check."

He goes over to the small table andd grabs some supplies of the shelf, using it as a make shift map. Once he has it all in place, "it aint no holo tank but it wil do."

He places the salt shaker fairly far away from the pepper shacker (the building).

"The Salt shacker is us. We insert 800 meters from the Corvette, use the lampray to transport us to this storm drain, where we swim the rest of the way to the building here. At this point the Sea Lion drones will come in and occupy the Shark. We exit the drain here, hall ass to this back entrence, burn the door and were inside. Mako, the entire time were in the water you'll have a spirit concealing us and helping us move faster. Once inside you switch to having a combat spirit availible. From there we make our way to the 27th floor via the service elevator shaft. My thought is the shaft is probably going to have fire doors sealing it off every level. If this is the case we may need to exit on the fourth floor and burn through the floor/ceiling."

He paused for a second as if thining of something new.

"It stands to reason that if they are guarding the outside... they may be guarding the inside. Tron," Errand points at the erswhile hacker, "this is where your going to shine, scan constantly for other networks, and if you find any drones your gonna have to hack them or we are gonna have to deal with them. I would rather the former."

He rubbed his hand over his head, "man this is gonna be tough. Once we get the the 27th floor, locate the lab, and the package, we may not be able to go out the way we came in. So lets plan on exiting the wall, on the opposite side from the boat, and jumping into the water, just in case we need to. Ok, any questions, sugestions?"

18:32:38 Monday, 13 October 2070 ��" Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Temp Quarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

"Drones, I can handle the drones depending on the equipment. If the equipment is substandard....then we need to have a plan to smash and grab...because that is what this will become."

The professional atmosphere, the pre-staging, the planning...ah its good to be back in the game.

After looking at the plan on the table, Tron looks around in a thought full way.

"What if we blow a hole in the opposite side of the building right before we exit stage left? That could be an addition distraction...That boat moves pretty quick, and the bio drone isn't slow."

Errand nods.

"If we get detected we should do that. But they did say they didn't want Ares knowing we were there."

Grabs the phone and hits the button.

"Hey Cyrene, can we add some bricks of C-12 ready to bang to our Tee oh and E.?"

18:32:55 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

"I'm not sure if we'll have any success adding explosives to the requisition this late in the game, but I'll pass your request along to de Medici and OpsDiv."

Cyrenne's voice over the phone has the flat, atonal quality that tells Errand it's an electronic construct and she was either transceiver equipped or subvocalizing.

18:33:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

"Understood, thanks for trying. I think were good to go, the soonest we get to do EQ check the better. Also, I hate to bother you with such a mundaine request, but I haven't eaten in almost 24 hours, any chance we could get some chicken, pasta, and other high carb, high protien foods? Also something to drink with sugar in it, Coke would be great, thanks again."

18:33:16 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

A dry chuckle sounds over the transmission.

"Unfortunately, we can't simply order takeout here on the compound. You'll have to get by with what's in the kitchen until we can move you to your permanent quarters. Sorry. We're still on track for gear issue at twenty one hundred."

18:34:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Errand chuckles. "This is starting to sound like we'll have it on Tuesday. Ok, kitchen it is. Are we okay for wandering around looking for the Mess, or do we need a escort?"

18:34:27 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

There's a small silence on the line.

"No, I'm sorry, we don't have your corporate IDs ready yet. And I was referring to the kitchenette in your room. Is it empty? C8 reported that the temp quarters had been cleaned and stocked."

18:35:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

"Right, ok, soy food it is. Thanks."

"Multi million dollar corp you think they could spring for a pizza. Ok lets go over this again. I wanna make sure we get it right."

Errand talks as he moves into the kitchenette and starts making food.

18:35:30 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

"Errand, since you're up...please go light on the salt!" Tron said with the first smile in over six weeks....the last time he smiled, well Lone Star caught that one on tape....

18:35:59 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Mako sits silently, listening to Errand's plan. As the ork and the hacker start gathering food, he rubs his chin thoughtfully and says, "Question. How are we going to ascend twenty-seven floors? I'm not in the greatest physical condition ever, but even if I was, that'd probably take some time. Can we rely on being undetected that long? Same thing for the descent. Jump twenty-seven stories into the water? If this building used to be above ground, even if the water's three or four stories deep, isn't there a good chance we'll actually hit the ground if we jump in the water from that high up? And not in a good way either."

18:37:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Makeshift sandwich in mouth Errand stifle's a laugh.

"Yeah.." he swallows, "ahem, yeah that would not b good. Anything from above 80 meters is like hitting concrete. Less see, 5 meters a floor, thats uh..." he does some math in his head, "125 meters? Yeah. So that would be death. However, I threw on a grapple hook and 50 meters of line and climbing gear, so thats our descent. As for the floor by floor, shafts usually have access ladders you can climb up and down. If not we can use the stairs or the rope."

He finishes of his sandwich.

"It seems, from the intel, that once were inside were going to be good to go as far as detection. They don't seem to have anything active in the building, which I don't believe for a second. But we have to go in trying to be stealthy the whole time. That's why I want a plan for a fast exfiltration. Repelling down the side of the building seems alot faster than going back down the shaft. At the very least we can use a spirit to slow our fall.... " he looks to Mako for onfirmation.

18:37:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Mako raises an eyebrow. “Yes, we can use an Air spirit to slow our rate of fall. But did you just say we have 50 meters of rope for a 125 meter descent? What are we planning to do, rappel down those 50 meters and then just jumping? Because I don’t want to be falling 75 meters and then have my air spirit get banished or killed while we’re on the way down. That’ll end our year of servitude real quick, but not in a way I think any of us wants. It’s fine to have an air spirit as a backup plan for getting out, but if we’re already exposing it to danger by using it as our air cover/fire support, then I really don’t want to have it also be our Plan A for getting out alive. Maybe you want to ask for more rope?�

18:40:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

"Well it was an estimate, and that's a lot of rope to be swimming with. I'm not being cavalir about it, but we also have to carry gear into the place, added gear out of the place, weapons, armor etc. I don't think we can carry nearly 300 feet of line. Jumping off the building is plan B, not plan A. And no one says we have to exit from the 27th floor. Going out the window is if we get cornered or can't get back to the basement. Remember, when we leave the storm drain we have nearly 40 feet of murky, debris filled water to cross before we get eaten by a tiger shark. Not sure I want to carry so much gear that I am walking that distance, do you?"

20:55:42 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Temp Quarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Mako shrugged, unwilling to press the point. Errand seemed to have a handle on things, and, worse come to worse, they could always descend inside the building before blowing an exterior wall and rappelling out. Or jumping as the case may be. Silence descended on the room, broken only when Tron clicked on the trideo and started paging through the available shows.

Not really wanting to watch trid, Mako stepped into one of the three identical, anonymous rooms. The furnishings were utterly spartan and practical, different from just about every other place he’s ever lived in his life. He wondered at all the unanswered questions floating around, and how radically his situation had changed in less than twelve hours. Who was de Medici working for? What corporation did Singularity belong to? Why, if they had all these resources, did they need to take three runners out of jail in order to break into a flooded Ares building? He hoped after they got back from this run that he’d at least get a chance to get good and drunk. The whore on the airplane had gone a long way to satisfying the hungers of his body, but it had been far too long since he’d partied.

A soft chime sounds from the door. Tron, the closest, rose from the couch and touched the flat plate by the bank of light switches. The door slid aside to reveal Cyrenne, dressed now in a one piece matte gray jumpsuit and long coat.

“Gentlemen,� she announced, “it’s time. If you’ll follow me.�

The four of them take a different route through the building, emerging only minutes later into the interior of the hangar. Voices, indistinct through the mesh curtains, call back and forth nearby. Just outside the doorway are five long tables festooned with gear, neatly laid out and arranged.

The first table holds three dual tank cutting torches, bulkier than the standard miniwelder, but capable of operating underwater, three OXSYS artificial gill systems, three large waterproof duffle bags, each of them capable of holding 0.1 cubic meter. A grapple gun with two 100m spools of stealth line and three catalyst sticks. A box of twelve high intensity chemlights finishes up the first table.

The second table has three sets of diving gear: fins, facemask, snorkel, buoyancy compensator, weight belt, dive armor, lightweight tank and regulator. Each piece is done in a mottled gray/dark blue/black digital camouflage.

The third table holds weapons and tactical gear, with a Blackhawk Omega Elite tactical vest, a Serpatech Level II thigh holster, and a STRIKE left leg drop platform with a pair of magazine pouches and a dump pouch, Cougar Fineblade knife, long blade, AZ-150 stun baton, two Colt Manhunters, a Colt M-23 assault rifle, ten flash-bang grenades, four pistol magazines and six rife magazines.

The fourth table is full of electronics: four Transys Avalon commlinks, three sets of trode nets, a simrig still in its shrink wrapped plastic coating, an electronics kit, one set of goggles, a black plastic case labeled ‘contacts’, two briefcase sized black ABS plastic Pelican dry cases, two sets of plastic restraints, a maglock passkey in a slim plastic sleeve, miniwelder, squencer, a pair of wire clippers, two thermite burning bars sheathed in protective plastic, four one-meter long liner cutting charges and two detonators. An Ares Predator IV, AAC Evolution silencer, Serpatech level II holster, and four clips are the last things on the table.

The fifth table holds a neatly folded set of actioneer business clothes, as well as four boxes, each neatly stenciled with the number 4. Also on the fourth table, currently lying dormant, are two MCT Fly-Spies and two Cyberspace Designs Dragonflies.

Errand glances over the gear, frowning when he notices that only one of his rifle clips carries the blue/yellow banding of AV ammunition. All other clips carry the double black band of Ex-explosive, except for three of Tron’s pistol clips, which carry white bands.

“Like Cai said at the briefing, we don’t have enough time to modify all the gear as you requested. You’re going to have to work with COTS for the time being. When you return from this op, we’ll be able to make the desired changes to your equipment.� de Medici shrugs apologetically, clearly not happy with the upgraded time table.

“Check and make sure everything fits and is what you’d like. We have two and a half hours before you’re scheduled to depart here for the docks. Cyrenne and Kiyonaga will accompany you in the boat. Your commlinks have already been tuned to primary and secondary tactical frequencies, and encryption has been synched. Once clear of the building, just signal, and they’ll pick you up. The water sled has already been pre-positioned at the dock.�

He steps back to let his team check their gear.

21:00:12 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Gear Room, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Tron looks over toward the tables, puts his hands together and cracks his knuckles.

Short Timing on the op order, and they still manage to get almost everything. Better start checking!


Tron briefly looks at both Mako and Errand and makes a bee line toward the electronics table. He picks up the contacts, and puts them in.

Ah...to see again!

He then selects one of the trodes sets and a commlink and starts to check the programs, matrix access and other internal functions.

21:10:00 - 22:00 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Housing Bay Two, Gear Room, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Errand let out a whistle at the sight of the weapons. It wasn't what he wanted, but it was nice. He smiled as Tron shot off for the comlinks like a kid in a candy shop. Before Errand even made it to the weapons Tron tossed him his own comlink. He synched it up with his image link and it was old times again. He quickly went over the tac gear, harness, ropes. clothing, all seemed to be good. Once that was done he checked the weapons.

The Predator was first, it was Tron's, but he was busy with the electronics. It didn't take him long to make sure their were no factory defects. Then he loaded and un-loaded it 15 or 20 times to make sure the action was smooth. After he squared the Pred away he moved on to the more reliable (in his opinion) Colt made weapons.

After some time the assortement of gear had all been checked. Errand was dressed in tac gear head to toe. The dive armor was more combersome then he was used to, but considering the nature of the Op, the beter choice then bringing along normal clothes and switching out after the exited the water.

"Cyrenne, whats our time look like, and would it be possible to put some B-A-L rounds down range somewhere?"

22:01:16 Monday, 13 October 2070 – Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Range 2, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Cyrenne glances at de Medici who nods in response. She turns back to Errand.

"This way." Instead of heading back into the building, she opens a panel in one of the mesh screens, revealing a hallway in between the cordoned off areas. She glances back before stepping through, her eyes on Mako.

"We have weapons on stand-by even though you didn't request any. You're welcome to join us."

With that, she steps through. The hall seems to follow the center of the hangar, and Errand catches a glimpse through the screens as he passes. The cordoned off areas seem to be workspaces and storage areas, many of them full of shelving units with anonymous gray plastic cases stacked on them. One, though, is a motorpool, and he scans a dozen security vehicles, all wearing the same slate gray camouflage, all of them armed. At the end of the hall are a pair of pre-fab buildings again, one long and low, the other two story and a little more conventional. Cyrenne heads for the single story structure, but gestures towards the other.

"That's our shot house. Fully configured for live fire, it's modular so we can shift mock-ups based on target surveillance. This one's the basic range, though."

The soundlock is large enough to hold all four of them, and she waits until Tron closes the outside door before opening up the inner one. The room inside is well lit, with ten individual firing lanes. Vaguely (meta)human shaped silhouettes hung from tracks in the ceiling, each currently five meters from the benches.

"It's only twenty five meters, but the targets can mimic a (meta)human at three hundred meters. You've all got commlinks now, and access to the Singularity network. You can control the targets wirelessly, choosing the range they come up at, the length of time they're exposed, how much of the target is exposed. The computer will even vary the vulnerable locations on the target, requiring you to either hit head, center of mass, or left or right torso locations in order to score a kill. There's also diagrams for grouping and zeroing if necessary."

Cyrenne stepped to the range master's booth and exchanged a few words. She turned back to the group.

"How much ammo are you going to want? We've got non-lead frangible that makes it easy to clean up at the end of the day rather than letting you burn through the more expensive stuff."

22:05:31 - 22:32:04 , 13 October 2070 ��" Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Range 2, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Errand smiled at the magnificent range, it was better even then the Marine kill houses. "200 rounds each weapon will be fine. If there's anything wrong with them that will be enough to let us know."

He dialed into the range comm and put the tarets at 40 meters, the probable max range of any engagement in this Op. He sat all three of his weapons down, graciously excepting the ammo from the Range Master. He dropped out the current mags in teh Manhunters, replacing them with the frangible rounds. The weight felt right as he picked up the live weapon. His smartlink immediatly sprang to life in his eye, letting him know ammo, type, target, range, and a few other little details that came in handy.

Taking the traditional shooter stance Errand raised the weapon, lining up the front and rear sights in the perfect sillouhette. The large calibre hand gun roared 15 times in a row, sending the rounds down range. The targets danced as round after round penetrated them. His commlink linked to the Ranges computer told him exactly where each round went. He repeated the proccess with each Semi-auto untill all 200 rounds were gone. The weapons performed flawlessly.

Next he un-slung his M-23, loaded it, and braced it against his shoulder. It took only a minute of semi auto fire to "zero" the weapon to 40 meters. Normally he would have gone longer but the odds were that it was all going to be close combat. If he could have he would have gotten a shortened barrel for his Battle rifle. Another 200 rounds to break in the action, some semi, burst, and full auto. All of it seemed to go very well. His skills had atrophied little in the six weeks since he was imprisoned.

"Ok, I'm good to go."

22:05:31 - 22:32:04 , 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Range 2, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Tron follows Errand to the firing line. He expertly loads the non-lead frangible rounds, and proceeds to run 100 rounds through the barrel of the Predator.
Errand swears by Colt, but the Pred works fine for me!
At 25 m, Tron drills all the rounds straight through center of mass on the meta-human target.
Sure is nice to know the back-up weapon works! Now, the only thing left is to activate the drones.

While the comlink feels slow, Tron was able to download his program suite from the hidden node on the matrix. He sets about upgrading the firewalls in each unit to 6.
Never can be two careful. These will come in handy after I get this comlinks response upgraded to a professional rating.

The calm demeiner barely masks the excitement. After all the jail time, it was good to breath "semi-free" air, and at least it wasn't sitting in a cell doing nothing. Besides, it was just like a year long extend job...right?

22:05:31 - 22:32:04 , 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Range 2, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Mako shrugs in acceptance at Cyrenne's offer. He was far from even being considered proficient with a gun, but he knew how to use it. Besides, the practice couldn't hurt.

Taking the gun and ammo the range master offered him, he aimed the gun down the field at the targets and worked his way through the rounds, taking care to focus on the proper procedures, methods, stance, routine, etc.

He bared his teeth as the rounds tore into their targets haphazardly. I can't wait to let loose with some real power. Enough of this gun drek. First chance I get, I am absolutely FRYING someone with a spell. The only question is which one. Hmmm...

With that pleasant though bouncing around his mind, he passed the rest of the practice time at the range in relative quiet.

Once he was finished, he turned to Cyrenne and said, "Maybe it's not a bad idea for me to bring a gun, just in case. Should I keep this one or do you have a different one for me? And where can I go to start working on summoning some spirits?"

22:37:16 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Cyrenne shakes her head.

"That's a range weapon, I'll get you something else from stores."

Mako shrugs, handing over the Predator IV before following Kiyonaga out of the range and back down the wide hallway to another part of the hangar. The room is fenced off by the mesh screens, and is empty save for one long table against the wall and several folding chairs. The slim asian, who hasn't spoken in the entire time that Mako has known him, gestures to the room before stepping aside and heading back down the hall towards the staging area. Mako shrugs and sits down to work.

23:41:03 Monday, 13 October 2070 - Santa Susana Logistics Field, Singularity Headquarters, Hangar 5B, Simi Valley, CFS

Tron pokes his head through the door. "Ready?"

Mako shakes his head. "No, I've only bound one, I still have to do the other."

"You'll have to do it on the road, then."

"All right." Grimacing, the shaman followed Tron out the door. They passed through the staging area, down another wide hall, before coming out into another large open area of the hangar. This apparently served as Singularity's motorpool, as over twenty vehicles were parked in neat rows. Only one was fired up, though, a sleek black Ares SUV. Errand came around from in back, finished stowing all the gear. Kiyonaga slid into the front passenger seat, while Tron sat behind him. Cyrenne handed a web belt with a holster and set of pistol mag pouches to Mako.

"It's a Colt Manhunter," she explained. "It's got a laser sight since I know you don't have smartlink. The rounds are explosives, three full clips plus one in the weapon."

A faint smile slid across her lips before she strode around the front of the truck, climbing into the driver's seat. For a moment, Mako thought Errand would sit behind her, then realized that there was already someone in that position. In the end, he and the ork ended up sharing the rear bench seat.

"Who's that?" hissed Mako, indicating the stranger in the car with a lift of his chin.

"Driver," replied Errand out of the corner of his mouth. The slim shaman shrugged again, then got down to the business of binding his latest spirit.

04:27:11 Tuesday, 14 October 2070 - Singularity speedboat APOGEE, southbound, offshore LA, CFS

The semi-planing hull hit another wave, lifting clear of the water before bottoming back out with a thud that jarred Errand despite the padding of the jumpseat. Spray from the water misted back over him in a cold, clammy caress. The low cloud cover over the eastern horizon reflected the sodium orange streetlights of the greater Los Angeles sprawl. It was the only illumination; the moon had set nearly three hours ago. He could tell that Cyrenne hadn't been happy about the delay, she'd wanted the insertion to be well underway by this time. But Errand wasn't going in until Mako completed binding the last spirit.

He glanced over the side of the boat at the fast moving water and grimaced. It was dark, ink black, and he knew it was only going to get worse. While they'd waited, he'd checked the inertial nav system of the Sled to make sure it was aligned and tracking properly, but that did little to reassure him. They couldn't use the high power lights since it would surely attract the attention of the guardian bio-drone. So they'd be on minimal illumination the entire time until inside the building. He felt a tap at his shoulder. Kiyonaga flashed him a palms open sign, and he nodded. Tron and Mako caught the motion and started unbuckling before he could even pass the five minute call to them.

Carefully, the three of them made their way to the rear deck of the high-speed vessel, slipping their facemasks down and double checking their scuba gear. One by one they went over the side, maneuvering carefully into one of the seats of the sea sled. Errand was last over, glancing back in time to see Cyrenne flash him the two minute sign. He nodded. It was a long two minutes.

The sled came free with a jerk, its front wings catching the wake from the APOGEE and diving beneath the surface of the water. Errand twisted the hand throttle, pushing them deeper despite the desperate animal fear that clawed at the back of his mind as the darkness swallowed them. Silence. He exhaled harshly, clearing his regulator and feeling the flow of bubbles past his face as the sled descended. He shivered as the chill Pacific water slid through the interstices of his wetsuit. It would warm quickly, though. Dimly he could hear the deep bass thrum of the APOGEE's waterjet engine as the speedboat arrowed away. All he could see was the faint amber display from the sled's instrument cluster: the course and depth indicators and the small false 3-D display of their location based on what the sled's inertial nav system told it in comparison to the last good GPS fix it received. Errand drove them deeper, feeling the pressure of the water increase. Eighty meters was about the limit for the dive equipment they'd been given. Any deeper and he would have had to ask for full face helmets and double tanks. And decompressing from that dive would have taken a dangerously long time.

Silence and total darkness surrounded them. Errand couldn't see his hand when he reached up to touch his facemask. The only thing that told him it was there was the way the light dimmed from the instrument cluster as it passed over it. He had no idea how close or how far from the bottom they were. He about jumped out of his wetsuit when Tron grabbed his arm, immediately backing off the throttle, though. He glanced over at his compatriot, barely able to discern his outline. He could see him gesturing, pointing to his facemask with two fingers, then resting his hand on the joystick controller for the sled.

How can he see? wondered Errand, then almost immediately realized the answer. Reluctantly he gave up the controls, feeling the sled start forward again under Tron's guidance. They slipped forward slowly, rose, then fell deeper. After only a couple of minutes they stopped. Errand glanced at Tron, who motioned over the back of the sled. Leaning over, Errand risked the light, using the low-light flashlight he'd requested to illuminate the seafloor.

Or, as it turned out, the sidewalk. The sled hovered barely a meter off what was an intercity two lane artery, or had been before it dropped eighty meters below sea level. He could just see the large, twin covers that gave entrance to the storm drains. It was going to be tight, but it looked like the sled would just fit. All they had to do was get the hatches opened.

04:27:11 Tuesday, 14 October 2070 - Singularity speedboat APOGEE, southbound, offshore LA, CFS

Errand fished a chemical light, the special low light kind, cracked it and slipped it into the sewer. He could see maybe 5 meters with his low light mod kicked up to max. It looked clear, but the sewer cover still had to come off. Climbing opff the sled, movements slowed by the water, he knelt down and got a firm grip on one side of the storm drain, and pulled.

04:33:57 Tuesday, 14 October 2070 - Minus 80 meters, offshore LA, CFS

Even before being submerged in salt water for eighteen months, the twin hinged covers over the storm drain junction were subjected to twenty years of environmental abuse. Their action, once smooth on polished stainless hinge pins, was now jerky and corroded. Yet no match for Errand's strength. Using his buoyancy compensator to pin him to the bottom, he braced his feet against the cement and pulled. The cover opened with a tortured, nails-on-chalkboard squeal that was all the louder for being underwater.

04:33:57 Tuesday, 14 October 2070 - Minus 80 meters, offshore LA, CFS

It had been a relatively smooth insertion. Visibility wasn't totally poor, it was perfect for an insertion. Just as Errand grabs the sewer drain, Tron gets a sinking feeling.

Noooooooo The piercing scream of the steel giving way....stealth shed.

We got to move quickly..

Tron slips past Errand into the sewers, he motions for the other two to follow quickly...

That tiger shark is going to be a problem...

04:33:57 Tuesday, 14 October 2070 - Minus 80 meters, offshore LA, CFS

Mako scanned the ocean in the astral, knowing his spirits were helping them move faster and keeping them concealed from any prying eyes. He kept his senses alert, particularly for the tiger shark.

His lips curled underneath the mask in disdain. It was unworthy of its name. If it crossed them, he would show it the true meaning of the word.

04:35:00 Tuesday, 14 October 2070 - Minus 80 meters, offshore LA, CFS

Errand grimaced both from the exertion and the noise.

Damn fool, should have burned it. To late now.

He motioned for Tron to drive the sled in. Bracing himself he looked around carefully for the shark he knew would decend on them any second.

04:52:26 Tuesday, 14 October 2070 - Minus 80 meters, inside the storm drains, offshore LA, CFS

It was a tight fit all around. The storm drains were built from meter-wide sections of concrete pipe. The sled fit, but only in the widest part of the pipe, which meant the three of them ended up lying down on their bellies in order to squeeze through. And that was disregarding all of the accumulated detritus which floated in the drains, the leftover remains of years of pollution, now suspended in the inky waters of the Pacific. Bits of paper and plastic, leaves, grass clippings, empty plastic bottles, one shot drug ampules, slap patches, protective plastic sheathing for trode nets. You name it, it floated past as the sled zipped through the pipe, brushing past them in a swirl of water. A curtain of bubbles surrounded them, the manifest form of Mako's air spirit, using its powers to accelerate their journey. What should have taken almost an hour only took fifteen minutes. Or would have, if the tunnel had run true.

Luckily, the spirit's powers work on both steady state and dynamic state, killing their velocity quickly enough to prevent them from smashing into the smooth wall of rock which blocked the tunnel. Errand motioned, and Tron swam forward, pushing against it in several places, even knocking against it. He shook his head, putting his fist against his hand.

Drek, solid.

Errand sighed before backing the sled slowly. They would have to head back to the last junction which exited the tunnels. The nav display, if correct, said they would have fifty meters to cross until the safety of the building. He smiled grimly.

And this time, I'm cutting through the hinges.