The Early Days.
"In position," Chris reported to his wrist-watch. One of the middle-aged customers of the busy café raised an eyebrow at him, and the two regarded each for a long moment before the man turned back to his meal. It wasn’t the first time today that the older man given him that irritated glare. The irritation was edged with fear, though, as Chris’s appearance set him apart from the regular customers of the little restaurant. He looked younger than the youngest there, appearing to be about 18, and wore completely black attire: black jeans, a black T-shirt, and black combat boots, all covered with a long black trench-coat. His physical appearance was also dark; his skin had the look of a permanent deep tan that was associated with his race, and his race also answered for his dark eyes and the blackness of his hair which fell in unkempt curls just beyond his shoulders.
An amused smile tugging at his lips at the other customer’s reaction, Chris lifted his eyes to the building beyond the businessman – a small electronics store squeezed between an office building and a row of equally-squeezed storefronts. The run-down brick building reportedly had two entrances: the dusty glass door at the top of a cement staircase that Chris was now looking at, and a small metal door opening from the rear supply room into the alley-way behind. The store front also had a large window to the left of the front door through which he could see the narrow isles of products with the service desk creating a dim backdrop. Chris modified the list of exits, which previously had only contained the two entrances, to include this window as well.
There was a brief crackle of static in his ear followed by a young male voice. "I’m in position, too, Chris. No action in the alleys."
"Looks like we’re about as ready as we’re gonna be, Paul," Chris told his wrist, softly this time, but still eliciting a nervously annoyed look from the older man a table away. "What do you think, Chief? Is it a go?"
Almost immediately, the deep, steady voice of the Chief responded. "We don’t have a lock on the security for this sector yet. If you go in now, we can’t guarantee you won’t be followed, and we won’t be able to warn you."
"Aw, come on, Chief," the young voice broke in from the alley-way. "We’re covering ‘em. Anyone goes in and we hit the ‘abort’ buzzer."
"By that point, it will be too late for Chris to abort," the Chief pointed out calmly. "We don’t have to finish the job right this minute. Wait for your back-up to finish scanning. Once we’ve picked out the guards, we’ll be able to ensure a safe trip. If we rush at this point, we could very easily end up making a simple run into a very bad situation."
"But, Chief, you said it: it’s a simple run. There shouldn’t be security guards for a little shack like this place. We’ve done this kinda thing a dozen times in the past week. Why should this one be any different?" The whining annoyance that echoed in the boy’s voice made Chris more than a little nervous. Not only was Paul pretty green in field work, but he was also impatient and didn’t think much before acting. Chris contemplated the value of this sort of back-up as he reached into his coat to check the power level on his blaster. The power light indicated "Full-Power", so he settled it back into it’s hiding place with a half-satisfied sigh.
"I’ve got an initial report from the scanners," the Chief said, his voice breaking the pause that had followed Paul’s comment as well as indicating that he had completely ignored the comment. "Nothing has shown up, street-side, but the scanner wants to check the nearby stores, as well. Too many hiding places around there to be certain yet."
"Geez, it’s only Internet!" Paul’s frustrated voice exploded into Chris’s ear, causing him to wince slightly and grab for the volume controls on his watch. "You just get done telling me about how they’re soooo lax in their guard and clueless about us, and now you’re turning into a paranoid freak."
Chris struggled to keep from opening comm-lines and yelling back at the boy, but he knew that too much comm activity on his part could endanger the mission. And he doubted that the man across from him would sit still through to many more antics before reporting to the management and asking for them to remove the insane teenager that was disturbing his peaceful lunch break. Before Chris felt compelled to seek a private room from which to vent his feelings to (and about) Paul, the Chief took away the necessity of doing so.
"Paul, the reason I see this mission as potentially more dangerous than the previous dozen is the fact that we have carried out the previous dozen. We can maybe pull off the same act 12 times before they catch on, but by the 13th, they may have begun to catch on. We’ve seen signs all across this sector of security tightening a bit. There’s even a chance that they’re trying to lull us into a trap. Instead of relaxing our guard as we go along, we have to match them move for move and tighten our own security as we force them to tighten theirs. Now, the scanners have finished enough area around the store that it’s safe to begin, but keep your eyes open. They might have an alarm system to call for back-up from further away. Paul, like you said: if anyone goes in, signal us immediately. Chris, have your burst-audio-link open to send us recordings every few seconds. That way, we’ll know if anything happens inside. Transmit the encryption and band-sequence before going in. I’ll inform the floaters and scanners that you’re going in. If they see anything coming, they’ll signal as well. Be careful. Cutting link now."
There was a brief burst of static followed by dead silence. Chris sighed, pursed his lips, re-settled his blaster, and headed for the door. The businessman seemed happy enough to be rid of him, glaring over the screen of his datapad at the tall, dark teen as he walked past. Upon exiting, Chris meandered through the light foot traffic on the sidewalk down to the corner and crossed to the side of the target store, being very thorough in looking both ways before he crossed. He made his way to the cement stairway and glanced up and down the street casually before climbing the three steps and pulling open the grimy door.
A tarnished bell hung from the hinge at the top of the door, and it gave off a weak tinkling as Chris entered. The door itself creaked loudly and slammed hard enough that the bell’s warning was completely unnecessary. The interior of the store was dim, since it had been designed to allow natural lighting from the large window which was now covered in a layer of oily dirt. Straight ahead from the front door, Chris could see the service desk. The wall behind it was lined with shelves and hooks from which hung extra merchandise and several of the more expensive pieces of equipment that were on sale. The isles were barely wide enough to allow a broad-shouldered man like Chris passage between them, and, though the ceiling was not extremely low, the lack of lighting made it seem as though the top of his head might brush the cobwebs from the wires and pipes that hung loose at odd intervals. The darkness and closeness of everything combined itself with the thick, moist air to create a slightly suffocating sensation. Chris looked around, scanning the rows of items as though trying to locate some obscure piece of equipment. He turned slowly to the left and made his way among the racks glancing over their contents, allowing his face to take on a thoughtful and slightly frustrated look.
"Can I help you?" Chris feigned surprise at the sudden appearance of a gawky teenaged boy behind the high counter.
"Just looking," Chris replied. "I’m in the middle of some projects, and keep running up short on parts." He slowly approached the desk as he spoke, still looking at the racks and allowing his voice to be distracted by his search. "I hate having to go out for pieces right in the middle of building. Usually end up tearing half the contraption apart because I didn’t have enough of whatever." As he droned the words out, he continued his motion to the desk, and closer to the true destination of his journey.
The clerk looked slightly annoyed by Chris’s rambling, but didn’t leave the counter. He fidgeted with a pencil and stared as Chris rounded the corner of the end isle. "Maybe I can tell you where to find what you’re looking for." He suggested, heading for the door that sealed the storage room and area behind the counter from the store.
"Oh, I’m not really looking for a specific piece," Chris countered. He hoped he hadn’t sounded to eager to dissuade the clerk. "I’m pretty much just looking for pieces that might be able to fill in the holes. I haven’t entirely finished the design. I usually just add what looks right." He grinned at the clerk, hoping to rouse some amusement and make the boy relax. Someone as up-tight as this kid made it hard to carry out plans on these missions. He’d be watching too closely for Chris to be able to get away with his goals. Chris came up to the counter and leaned his elbows on it, looking over the back wall, scanning for anything useful. His leg brushed against a short table on his right which held an old computer that emitted sounds of spinning drives and data transferal. He glanced down at it briefly when he bumped it, acting annoyed with it’s presence.
It was as they’d suspected… The computer scrolled a stream of numbers matching the layout that Chris had been shown earlier that day. The stream consisted of columns of 3 sets of 4-digit numbers connected by hyphens and followed immediately by two capital letters. They matched the layout of the code that Chris had imprinted on his own OutWorld ID card. And with each ID code came a corresponding set of access codes.
So. Internet was aware of the danger OutWorld represented. And now they were trying to reduce that threat. Well, no matter. All that was left now was to disable the machine beyond recovery of its memory. Odd, that they would leave this computer unattended and out in the open during the data transferal. Strangely enough, the age of the computer contributed to its ability to break into the newer systems more easily. But to leave it out in the open like this... He’d been expecting it to be on the counter, facing inward. Well, he’d best take advantage of the situation and then get out as quickly as possible.
These thoughts had been passing through Chris’s mind as he viewed the back wall of the small store. He leaned back slightly and let one hand drop below the line of the counter, out of sight of the clerk, where it could play with the keyboard of the out-dated computer.
Frowning slightly, he said, "You don’t by any chance have any grounding bypass cables, do you?" Having studied the blueprints of the store in detail, he knew the cable was located at the far end of the storage area. Typing in the code for a self-destruct on the computer could be accomplished while the boy stood right where he was. But just because the boy was employed by Internet didn’t make Chris angry enough at him to want pieces of monitor permanently imbedded into the boy’s face.
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he heard the creak and tinkle of the door behind him opening. Simultaneously, there was a crackle and a keening in his ear, as the alarms started up.
Crap. I knew it. There goes this mission. AND this life, Chris thought. He moved away from the computer slightly, casually, and glanced over his shoulder at the entering trio of boys. How did the floaters miss these three? They’ve got "Security" written all over them. He refused to get angry, but he could feel his frustration building and a slight headache warning him of the approach of another Ageless. Maybe they don’t know…
The leader of the three, the Ageless, ended that hope instantly, however, producing a blaster aimed directly at Chris’s chest. "End of the road, kid. Good job, Sory," he nodded to the boy behind the counter. Turning his attention back to Chris, he waved the blaster muzzle to the left, away from the computer. "Move it. You’re not getting this place, baby."
Chris refused to glare back at the boy and moved calmly away from the computer.
"Search him," the first boy said. The other two moved closer, one with a scanner, the other with a blaster.
"Geez, he’s loaded," said the boy with the scanner. "You’re your own little army, ain’t ya?"
His comment was punctuated by the creak-tinkle-thud of the door, and all three boys hurried Chris to the corner and concealed their blaster out of sight, yet still carefully aimed.
Chris stood calmly, watching the boys, while the boys stood nervously watching Chris and the girl that wandered in through the doorway. Chris started a bit in surprise as he recognized the girl. Short, small and slightly tanned, she exuded an impression of youth. She was brightly garbed in blue, her clothing consisting of combat boots, blue jeans, a beige tank top, and blue flannel shirt, all topped unexpectedly with a beige leather cowboy hat from underneath which her long hair flowed. Much as Chris had done, she surveyed the whole room curiously, with an air of determined frustration, her nearly black eyes looking for something … something … ah, there it was. She moved down several isles, intent on her destination, and crouched to study an object near knee level that hung in the main isle. She stood with it, frowning with obvious irritation at the label. Walking toward the counter while still studying the item it, she jarred the table the old computer was sitting on, nearly knocking the monitor over.
"Ow!" she exclaimed abruptly. Tossing the item onto the counter, she shoved the monitor back up onto the table, facing the wrong way completely, but at least no longer precariously perched on the verge of crashing to the floor. She then turned to the startled clerk that glared at her from behind the counter. "Do these come longer?" she asked bluntly, indicating the object she’d carried up with her.
Obviously annoyed, he glanced at the package. "Yes. How long a cable do you need?" he asked.
"Oh, meters longer," she said, with a frustrated sigh. She snatched the package back up and turned it over and around several times before continuing. "The cables need to be probably 3 meters or so, and if you’ve got one with an adapter on it also, that’d make it perfect." She held out the package to him expectantly. He grudgingly took it from her and, after giving her a silent glare, disappeared into the storage room.
The girl watched him go, leaning on the counter and cocking her head impatiently. After a few seconds, she turned around and leaned against the counter, propping her elbows up and fidgeting with the edge of the plastic coating that was cracked and peeling off. Her gaze wandered up and down the isles in front of her, out the far window, and was finally drawn to the four boys standing in the corner. They all stared back at her. She held their gazes for a long moment before pushing away from the counter toward something she’d apparently seen a moment before and was just now deciding to look at. She moved down one of the isles and picked up another piece of equipment, studying it carefully. Looking slightly confused, she glanced up at the boys and directed her gaze at Chris.
"Do you know how to hook these up?" she asked.
The leader of the small band decided he should answer that question, and moved over to where she stood to see what she was holding. As he moved next to her, they all heard a new and unfamiliar sound from the corner the computer sat in.
Beep …………beep ………beeeep……BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP
The explosion blew a hole in the wall, and also flung the hollowed-out shell of the monitor flying into the boy that held the scanner, knocking him into oblivion against the wall. The other boy was completely caught off guard by Chris’s fist and lost his blaster and his consciousness quickly. Chris whirled to face the third boy who had been standing by the girl, only to see that he was already lying unconscious on the floor. He just managed to see a flash of blue that indicated the girl’s back as she raced out the door.
He sprinted out after her, dropping the blaster as he went, but by the time he got to the street, she was already out of sight.
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