Chapter 40 - Towards the Brink

  Darius wondered if he’d ever been this nervous before.

  Asking out Kenzie Thomas had been pretty nerve-wracking at the time, and, in fairness, she’d turned him down very harshly in front of a crowd, but then he hadn’t been terribly smooth on the approach either, so…

  He blinked, wrenching his thoughts back to the present. Now was definitely not the time to be getting lost down memory lane. He focused on sticking close behind Tarek and Corin, trying to move as quietly and smoothly as they did.

  Darius had sort of expected a more complicated or impressive start to the night than ‘walk over to the garrison’. Maybe using the tunnels, or stealing a vehicle, or something. Instead, his calves were starting to ache, and they were just… walking. Well, sneaking might be a little more accurate – the curfew was still in effect, even if it had been relaxed a little for certain traffic.

  Getting stopped by a patrol would still be the end of them, so… sneaking it was.

  Around him, the mega-buildings and apartments of the residential sector loomed. The rain earlier in the evening had left the streets slick, the faint sheen reflecting the dim light of streetlamps. The lamps flickered intermittently, their bulbs poorly maintained, casting irregular pools of light that broke the otherwise deep shadows.

  He shivered, though not entirely from the cold, drawing his jacket closer around him as his hands strayed to the grip of his pistol. The knowledge that he may need to use it soon weighed heavily on his mind.

  Ahead, Corin reached a corner and paused, ducking back a moment before a beam of light swept across the street. He hurried back to where the rest of the squad was waiting, tension visible in his frame.

  “They’ve got spotlights set up,” he murmured in a low voice as he reached them. “One on every corner. Can’t see any other changes, but…” he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.

  Darius wasn’t aware of every little aspect of the plan – partially because he didn’t need to know, and partially because the Freeholders simply didn’t trust him – he had been made aware of the security they had expected to face. Spotlights were not on the list.

  It wasn’t a surprise that the garrison had spotlights – they were permanent fixtures, after all – it was that the garrison hadn’t been using the spotlights before tonight. It could be a coincidence, but… well, it strained credulity, to say the least.

  Darius looked to Harlan, along with the rest of the squad. The older man was clearly considering the matter deeply, turning over the viability of abandoning the plan and trying again another night. Could the Empire know, or suspect, about the raid? If they did, spotlights were not going to be the only change. Then again, if the Empire knew about the raid, why change anything at all? Why not lull the Freeholders into a false sense of security, and simply surround the building once they were inside?

  “We press on,” Harlan decided. “There shouldn’t be any way for the Empire to know we’re coming. I spoke to Contact a couple of hours ago, and he confirmed that the other cell is ready to go, which means they can’t have been captured. We’ll be careful, but… we press on.”

  Darius opened his mouth to point out the numerous flaws with that logic, but before he could, everybody was already moving. Grumbling – quietly – under his breath, he moved to follow.

  They crouched low, just shy of the corner, waiting for a break in the sweep of the spotlights. The beams moved methodically, slow arcs cutting through the rain-slick streets. The squad pressed themselves into the shadows, breaths shallow, tension humming through the air.

  Harlan motioned sharply with two fingers, signalling the advance. Darius followed, his boots scuffing softly against the wet pavement. Tarek was ahead, his silhouette a dark blur as he rushed across the open street into the shadow of the building opposite. Corin brought up the rear, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings.

  The garrison was still a good couple of hundred meters down the street, but the sightlines were completely open from here on out. They would have to move fast, keep low, and hope that the spotlights were automated. If a guard happened to be looking in the right – or wrong, depending on the perspective – direction, then…

  Well, Darius didn’t really know what would happen next. Hopefully, Harlan would have a plan.

  Fortunately, the streets were not totally open and bare – buildings were not always flush with each other, with shop openings and alleyways providing areas to hide. The beams created fleeting moments of blinding brightness, each followed by a heavy darkness that seemed even deeper by comparison. Darius felt the sweat on the back of his neck as they paused at another corner, waiting for one of the beams to pass.

  Their target was the pedestrian gate, a secondary entry rarely used and even more rarely guarded. It sat recessed into the wall, overlooked by the primary vehicle gates and their accompanying checkpoints. From their intel, the gate’s security was primarily handled by an access card reader, old enough to be vulnerable to even Lena’s tools, let alone Echo’s abilities. Ultimately, it was only there as a discouragement, not an actual obstacle.

  They moved fast, hugging the wall now as they closed the last few meters to the gate. The garrison compound spread out beyond it—a sprawl of utilitarian structures arranged with military precision. The largest building was unmistakable, a multi-level complex at the compound’s centre. Their target.

  Smaller outbuildings dotted the compound, workshops and maintenance buildings dwarfed by the main structure’s bulk. Floodlights mounted high above the carpark cast stark illumination across rows of nondescript vehicles, their shadows sharp and jagged against the concrete.

  There was a brief shuffle as they arrived at the gate’s access panel, and Darius was handed the bypass kit. He scarcely had time to plug it in before there was a soft beep and the gate clicked gently open.

  “Good work,” Lena whispered, patting him on the shoulder as they slipped through.

  The group moved quickly but quietly, keeping to the edges of the carpark as they closed the distance to the side door. The garrison compound stretched out in a grid of clean, sharp lines and deliberate, oppressive angles. Darius couldn’t help but feel exposed despite the shadows they clung to.

  Security cameras dotted the walls, each sweeping rhythmically, and he knew there was no real way to avoid them all. It was a gamble on how long it would take to be noticed – one they had to take.

  The side door was set into the far wall of the main building, recessed slightly and illuminated by a single overhead light. As they reached it, the squad pressed themselves flat against the cold concrete, each scanning a different direction for any signs of movement. Darius’s breathing was shallow, his heart pounding in his chest as the enormity of what they were doing settled over him.

  Harlan crouched near the group, his face partially lit by the faint glow of the nearby floodlights. His voice was low but steady, cutting through the tension like a knife.

  “The last patrol should have passed this area about five minutes ago. The next one won’t be through for at least an hour. That’s our window. We’ll move fast and quiet—no noise, no unnecessary risks,” he reminded everyone. They had already gone over the plan extensively, but Darius appreciated the reminder. His hands were shaking with adrenaline already and they hadn’t even entered the building yet.

  Harlan paused, his eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. “Remember, the plan is to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Temporary restraints first. Live ammo is last resort. That said, the Empire won’t hesitate to kill us the second this goes sideways, so stay sharp and be ready to pull that trigger if it comes to it.”

  Darius’s hand instinctively brushed the grip of his pistol, its weight both comforting and unnerving. He nodded along with the others, the unspoken agreement heavy in the air.

  Harlan gestured toward the access panel beside the door. “Darius, you’re up.”

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  Darius swallowed hard and stepped forward, pulling the bypass kit from his jacket. The security cameras above swept past again, the light from their lenses glinting faintly. His hands trembled slightly as he connected the device, plugging in the leads with practised motions. The kit’s small screen lit up, displaying lines of scrolling code as it worked to disable the lock.

  Seconds stretched out, each feeling heavier than the last. Finally, a soft beep signalled success. The door clicked open, revealing a dimly lit corridor beyond.

  Harlan was through first, his weapon raised, the soft tread of his boots barely audible against the tile. The others followed close behind, slipping through the doorway in tight formation. Darius brought up the rear, pausing only to tug the bypass kit free and shove it back into his jacket. The door swung shut behind them, sealing them inside the garrison.

  The air inside was cooler, carrying a faint metallic tang and the chemical sharpness of industrial cleaners. The corridor stretched ahead, empty save for the soft hum of overhead lights. The walls were the same sterile grey as the exterior—functional, impersonal, and entirely unwelcoming.

  From the blueprints they’d all been forced to memorise, Darius knew the garrison could be largely broken up into three distinct areas – public, low security, and high security. The public areas were at the front of the building and consisted of the reception area, some temporary holding cells, and a couple of offices for the more front-facing roles – detectives, officers, PR liaisons, that kind of thing. The parts of the job that the Empire wanted people to see, that looked good in photos and recruitment vids.

  By entering through the smaller side door, they’d managed to bypass this area – and a good thing, too. While the public areas didn’t have the best security, they were always manned, and would signal for help the instant anything went wrong.

  Instead, the Freeholders were currently making their way through the low-security areas. These were the more boring, administrative areas, taking care of the day-to-day minutia involved in running the garrison. While the curfew was in effect, these areas would be a lot emptier than usual overnight – though never fully empty.

  They encountered their first staffer just past the first turn. A lone civilian administrator, leaning against the wall with a dataslate in hand. He didn’t even look up until Harlan’s weapon was trained on him, and by then it was far too late. He gaped at the group of people in masks carrying weapons, dataslate slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers to clatter against the floor.

  “Hands up,” Harlan ordered in a low, firm voice.

  The man complied immediately, his face pale under the harsh lighting. Corin stepped forward, securing the man’s hands with a set of temporary restraints. The restraints themselves were basic, 3D-printed loops of reinforced polymer that tightened snugly around the wrists when engaged.

  Another small, printed contraption – a triangular piece designed to fit into the curve of the jaw – was placed over the man’s mouth. It forced his jaw shut just enough to muffle any attempts at yelling. Not as thorough as a full gag, but effective enough for their purposes.

  The restrained man was guided to the corner, seated against the wall with his back to the group. Lena crouched briefly to check the bindings before nodding to Harlan, signalling they were secure. Even an untrained man like this wouldn’t undoubtedly be able to wiggle his way free from the restraints eventually, but by then they should be long gone.

  Even if he was more creative than most and had, for some reason, set up the purely eye-movement-based interaction settings on whatever augs he had, they weren’t exactly expecting to get out of this without setting off the alarms. It was just a matter of timing.

  They moved on, the corridor widening as it led to the heart of the administrative section. The low-security area of the garrison was exactly what Darius had imagined: a drab, utilitarian cubicle farm. Rows of partitioned desks stretched out under harsh overhead lighting, each desk cluttered with dataslates, terminals, and the occasional personal trinket. The hum of air conditioning mingled with the faint clicking of keyboards and the muted voices of the few late-night workers still at their stations.

  As they emerged from the corridor, one of the workers turned in their direction with a smile. “Finally finished looking at—woah!” he cut off with a startled exclamation at the sight of the armed masked figures.

  Harlan didn’t hesitate. He raised his weapon and barked a single command, his voice sharp and authoritative.

  “Hands up! Don’t move!”

  The effect was immediate. The rest of the workers in the area froze, heads snapping toward the squad. One dropped the papers he’d been holding, and the faint rustle of documents hitting the floor echoed in the sudden silence. Darius idly wondered who even used paper anymore.

  “Uh, yeah, man, just- just don’t shoot,” the first man stammered, raising his hands shakily. Darius tried to ignore the guilt twisting in his stomach at the sight of the man’s obvious terror. This wasn’t personal. Without the processor cores from the drones at this garrison, he was going to die.

  The thoughts didn’t help with the guilt, but they did reassure him of the necessity of his actions. Besides, none of these people would be hurt – a couple of hours from now, they would be left with sore wrists and a cool story to tell their friends.

  The entire room was subdued in less than a minute. Darius felt the tight knot of tension in his chest ease slightly as the workers were secured without incident. Harlan gestured for the group to continue, and they slipped deeper into the administrative section. The hum of overhead lights and the faint rustle of their movements were the only sounds as they moved past rows of empty desks and terminals.

  By this point, Darius was starting to get nervous that something hadn’t gone wrong yet. Surely someone had been watching the cameras and had seen them restraining the workers? Wasn’t there some automated system blinking a red light somewhere?

  “Is it just me, or is this going too well?” he asked, finally unable to contain himself.

  “Don’t jinx things,” Harlan shot back, though the terseness in his voice indicated he was feeling the pressure as well. “Things are going to go wrong at some point, and the longer it takes, the better.”

  The next few hallways were quiet.

  The garrison’s nighttime staff was minimal, and with the curfew in effect, there wasn’t much reason for anyone to linger in the higher-security areas. Still, every corner felt like a potential ambush. The team moved in silence, their weapons drawn, their steps careful.

  They came to the first checkpoint—a locked security door with a scanner set into the wall beside it. Darius felt Harlan’s hand on his shoulder, a silent signal to step forward. He swallowed hard and crouched by the scanner, pulling out the bypass kit once again. Echo’s soft glow lit up the small space, lines of code flickering across the screen as it worked to override the system.

  “Come on,” Darius muttered under his breath, his fingers tapping impatiently against the kit. The AI didn’t respond to his urging, either concentrating or just flat-out ignoring him. Finally, the scanner let out a quiet beep, and the door slid open.

  “Good job,” Harlan murmured, clapping him briefly on the shoulder. The squad slipped through the doorway, weapons raised as they entered the next section, only to pull up short.

  A lone guard stood near the door, his back half-turned as he glanced down at something on his wrist-mounted device. He didn’t notice them at first, but as the door hissed shut behind the squad, his head snapped up.

  For a moment, there was only silence as the guard’s eyes widened, processing the armed intruders. Harlan didn’t give him time to act.

  “Hands up!” he barked, his weapon steady and trained on the man. “Now!”

  The guard froze for a fraction of a second, and for a moment Darius thought he might comply. But then his hand darted toward his holster, his mouth opening as if to shout. He never got the chance.

  Corin moved in a blur, closing the distance in two strides. Before the guard could draw his weapon or make a sound, Corin tackled him, one arm locking around the man’s neck in a fluid motion. The guard struggled, his movements jerky and desperate, but Corin held firm. Within seconds, the man’s struggles ceased, his body going limp.

  Darius blinked, still gripping his pistol tightly, his breath shallow. He hadn’t even registered what was happening until it was over. Corin lowered the unconscious guard to the floor with surprising care and reached for the restraints. The now-familiar polymer loops clicked into place around the guard’s wrists, and the jawpiece followed soon after.

  “Move,” Harlan ordered, his voice tighter now. They were running out of time. “We need to cut external alarms,” he said, rather pointlessly reminding them. “Darius, your AI friend better not screw us here.”

  Darius didn’t dignify that with a response, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything snappy.

  {Second left, there should be an office with a suitable access point.} Echo suddenly spoke up. Darius relayed the information to the squad. They were moving even faster now, almost running down the corridors. His heart pounded in time with his steps, grip tight on the bypass kit as they approached the door Echo had indicated.

  Harlan didn’t bother trying to be quiet, yanking the door open.

  The office was occupied. Another guard looked up sharply from behind his desk, already coming to his feet and drawing his weapons with a shout. While the man’s reflexes were impressive, they weren’t enough to save him.

  Before he could fire, Lena squeezed off a shot. The suppressed crack of her pistol was almost startling in the quiet. The guard went down with a stunned look on his face, wheezing as dark red stained his shirt.

  “Go,” Harlan barked, snapping Darius out of his shocked stillness. He hurried around the desk, leaning over the man… the body, as he tried to avoid touching it. His hands were shaking as he connected the bypass kit to the access point.

  A moment passed.

  Another.

  “Echo?” Darius asked nervously, pulse hammering in his ears. The others were tense as well, their weapons raised, eyes darting to every corner. The faint hum of the terminal seemed deafening in the stillness.

  {Higher encryption than anticipated,} Echo replied, the faint sense of strain bleeding through its usually calm tone. {I am adapting. Stand by.}

  It might have just been his imagination, but Darius could swear he could feel a weight pressing down on the edges of his mind, a vague sense of struggle he couldn’t name.

  Probably not a good sign.

  Finally, the terminal let out a soft chime. {External communications severed,} Echo announced. {However—}

  The alarms blared, a piercing, gut-punching sound that reverberated through the garrison. Red emergency lights snapped on, bathing the office in an eerie, pulsing glow.

  {—local alarms have been triggered,} Echo finished, almost apologetically.

  Harlan swore, his voice lost in the cacophony. Without waiting for Darius to explain, he motioned sharply for the squad to move, expression grim as they sprinted back out into the corridor and towards their objective, guns at the ready.