Sal-zÿr the blue
was different from Xier the
red. He was more careful,
more cunning, and in
many ways luckier.
Lucky that he didn't have
to fight VonGrippen.
F-120 "Arkangel" - Da Houg System -Taïrian Front
~~*~~
At least Masconi couldn't say she was bored.
Mine deployments should by all rights be tiresome affairs, and usually they were just that. Move so many meters, deploy a mine, move on another few meters, deploy another one, move off when she was finished and wait patiently for the other ships to drop their mines. Spending her time pointing out large gaps in the field which could be exploited.
As often as not however, mine deployment missions involved a race against time. Either a pilot finished first and got the hell out of there before the Amsus blew in, or the Amsus arrived first and used the slow fighter which had numerous high yield explosives strapped to it for target practice. That made such missions tense things at best.
Normally a destroyer or two would have been sent to help them. Their F-120s could carry roughly sixteen mines each, however since they had been outfitted with friend or foe missiles for defence purposes, Masconi's F-120's were carrying only eight mines apiece.
She wasn't sure how many mines a destroyer could carry, but it was undoubtedly much more then her bomber squadron could. Just one of them would have made the job go a lot faster.
However, considering what was likely to be coming into the system at any moment, and that any cap ships in the designated jump area would likely meet their demise if they stayed too close to the enemy's entry point, it had been decided that they'd have to do this the slow, safer way. Luck had provided them with an Amsus Jump computer, containing the pre-plotted jump areas for the next five systems. That meant they had a five hundred cubic area to mine, and pray that the Amsus didn't change their jump calculations.
Having said that, none of her pilots were optimistic about their chances of survival if the enemy came through whilst they were still working. Granted they stood a higher chance of getting back to the Hope of the Dawn with their lives, however F-120s were not renowned for their ability to outrun hostile ships. Enough Raptors or Predators on their tail and they wouldn't stand a chance.
She shook the thought from her head and brought her ship to a stop as she reached the new nav point. She spent a few seconds shifting the beast in order to get as close to the deployment point as possible before she deployed the sixth mine.
"Proceed to next waypoint." Uttered the insufferable computer voice for the sixth time. Why the person or persons who had designed this thing thought she needed to be reminded of such things as where to fly she did not know.
They weren't expecting any friendly ships to come through into the jump co-ordinates. Imperial fleet assets had all been given strict instructions not to enter anywhere close to the deployment area. So Masconi had ordered that the self-destruct on the mines be disabled. Each of those mines wouldn't explode until they a) collided with an Amsus ship, b) collided with a careless Imperial pilot, or c) malfunctioned.
The seventh nav point wasn't too far away. There were already a number of mines clustered n this area so she slowed to a snail's pace. The radar was no help, the yellow dots had all fused into a single yellow section that covered over half the radar. She had to rely on her eyes, and she couldn't see much to begin with.
Fortunately she didn't hit anything. She launched the seventh mine at the nav point.
"Proceed to next waypoint."
"Ah shut it." She snapped, making a note to order her plane captain to shut the annoying thing off once she got back to the hangar deck. Being a Highlady and the Group Captain had its perks.
The eighth waypoint was in a nicer location, several kilometres away from the jump point, there weren't too many mines around the area either. She'd half expected it to be right next to the jump buoy, along with fifty mines to contend with.
She increased speed once she was away from the largest clusters. Getting to the eighth waypoint wasn't a problem.
"Mission objectives achieved." The computer uttered pleasantly once she'd deployed the last mine.
"This is Arkangel", she said, trying to keep relief out of her voice, "I've finished here, your turn Puppy."
"About time, I thought the war might end before you got finished." Puppy called through the radio.
Maybe Masconi should have responded to that, but she was abruptly too weary to do anything except fly over to the four assembled F-120s and two F-175 escorts that were pointed at the navigation buoy. Waiting to hurl torpedoes at whatever came through the jump point, assuming something came through that is.
Her mind began to wander the second she took up a position near the jump point. Specifically it wandered towards the question that had been on everyone's mind recently, why was Darien still on Peligia, what happened to the Excalibur, and were they were all alone to fight a loosing war?
She remembered Prince Edward's promise, that they were never alone. It warmed her, knowing that the Immortal Emperor, her friend, was always close. She had never been the religious one, never understood why her cousins, especially Allie would turn to faith. But in the desperate darkness of the last few years, she was coming to understand that it was closely tied to hope.
She hoped Darien Taine would return and guide them. She hoped that Edward would come and smite the Amsus. She hoped that Allie was all right… Templar though he was, he was still her baby cousin, and she would always worry about him.
Most of all she hoped that Peligia, for all the blood that had been spilled for it, was worth it.
She shifted in her chair slightly, trying in vain to get comfortable. Despite the systems built in to the seats that massage the muscles or do something to prevent deep vein thrombosis, extended sits in a fighter had a habit of feeling like sitting on concrete.
"There's a film on tonight in the Rec room," Zulu said from the F-175 on her right, "You going?"
"What is it?" she asked pulling off her gloves and flexing her fingers to rid herself of the sweat.
"Something called Vengeance's fire. It's new, popular back home apparently."
"Let me guess, another riveting action movie designed to stir up patriotism among the civilian population." Masconi shook her head as she looked out at the other fighter.
"I think you're reading too much into it. It's the popular genre at the moment, plus it's Jared Verring who's playing the part of Darien Taine..."
"Maybe, still, I don't think it's for me. Maybe I'll sit this one out." Masconi said a note of bitterness in her voice. They didn't need movies of people playing Darien Taine, they needed Darien Taine.
"This one and every one, it wouldn't kill you to step outside your quarters for more then just meals."
She sighed and was on the verge of acquiescing when it happened.
Light erupted on her view screen; even with the protective visor it was a strain to see anything. At first she thought a cluster of mines had detonated, then, in the top left corner of her view screen she noticed a hint of swirling blue light.
"Oh my God." She breathed.
"Look at the size of that jump event." Uttered one pilot in disbelief, she couldn't see who. Whoever it was though, they were right. That wormhole was huge, as was what was about to come through it.
Although in reality it was probably only a few seconds, to them it felt like an eternity between the jump point opening, and the sight of the claw like bow of a Dreadnaught emerge from it.
"What the fark is that?" Screamed one pilot, the second F-175 pilot she thought, she didn't recognise the face. Clearly they hadn't read the latest edition of Joan's fighting spacecraft.
Disbelief was Masconi's first reaction. These ships were almost mythical, due partially to the newness of these new Amsus behemoths, but due mostly to the fact that almost no one had ever seen one and lived, no one human anyway. Just one of those had annihilated the Quinson carrier group. And the Group Captain could imagine how much more easily it could deal with them.
Intelligence reports, the ones that the Hope of the Dawn had managed to receive, stated that the Hegemony only had one of these things, rushed into production to counter the Lex Talionis threat. In terms of practicality however that made little sense, the Amsus never made anything 'unique.'
After the initial disbelief wore off, fear began to replace it. That ship was a monster. Gun turrets seemed to cover every square inch of the gigantic hull. The sizable docking bay in the centre of the bow looked ready and willing to spew forth God knows how many fighters at them.
"All ships," Masconi realized she was almost screaming at them, "Run! Fall back to the Hope, Puppy get the hell out of there!"
"Yes ma'am!"
It was surprisingly difficult to break eye contact with that beast. She couldn't fathom why, but some instinctive part of her felt it would be safer not to turn her back on it. Rationality soon set her straight and she soon found herself afterburning away from the dreadnought as fast as was possible.
She switched to her rear view display and noticed a number of explosions erupting on the hull, the mines detonating on the ship's shields. If they were having any affect she couldn't tell. The tactical display showed all four sections of the Dreadnaught's shields as blue, indicating that they were still at near full strength.
She shook her head in disbelief. Just a few of those mines could take out an Amsus light carrier, granted there was nothing light about what was following them, but still with the amount of mines they'd been piling up in the last three days, she'd expect that at least some damage would be done to the dreadnought.
A sudden flash of red caught her eye on the radar.
"Incoming fighters!" she shouted before switching her targeting display to show the new arrivals. "Predators, four of them."
She checked her fuel gauge; she seemed to be running out of fuel twice as quickly as normal.
"Make that eight." Zulu said after a few moments, "They've launched a new wing."
Shit!
She checked her display again, hoping that the mines might be wearing down the shields of the dreadnought. No such luck. They might as well have been throwing rocks at them.
Suddenly, something started to make sense. Sending that titanic monstrosity in first allowed them to clear way whatever defences the Imperial's may have left lurking around for them, be that fighters, capital ships or mines. That Dreadnaught was also clearing a nice path for the rest of the cockroaches to follow. Even if it did take some damage it would be superficial at best, easily repairable.
An unexpected Amsus scream then sounded on all their radios, the pilot presumably intending to spit out an insult but instead amusing them all with his dying howl after he blundered into a mine.
An unexpected grin broke out on her face, at least some of the mines were taking out enemy ships. First blood to them.
This momentary respite soon came to an end when she heard a familiar face over the TAC.
"They're all over me, I can't dodge…" Puppy's words degenerated into a scream as his fighter was gunned down by the Dreadnaught's flak fire. This scream was also cut off in an instant. Death it seemed didn't take long when one of those things was dishing it out.
In answer to any shock, sadness or further disbelief that might accompany the death, her mind forced itself to focus almost of its own accord. She spared one hating glance for the thing following them before she turned her attention back to the radar.
Two more red dots vanished. A savage laugh almost escaped her lips. True predators these weren't.
They were putting distance between themselves and the Dreadnaught; however the Predators were closing on them. They couldn't hope for the mines to take them all out, or that their rear turrets would be sufficient to take out their pursuers.
They continued their desperate flight for another two minutes before Masconi decided to hit her transmit button again, knowing they had no choice.
"Ninety-nine Fast Foxes, Knockers up," She ordered. "Alright, everyone arm two friend or foe missiles, on my mark, full stop and come about. Launch your missiles at the closest target and then keep running. Try and get a ship no one else is shooting at."
A round of 'understood's' and 'yes ma'am's' followed this. She prepped two missiles and selected a Predator that was little under nine kilometres away. It was wasteful, and there wasn't time to plan their attack and ensure that they didn't all take out the same target, but they didn't have a choice. They couldn't stick around for a dogfight.
"Now!" Masconi ordered. "Fox Two!"
Almost in unison they stopped, bow thrusters on the nose of her fighter swung her ship around and pointed it at the approaching Predators, waited, heard the lock confirmation, and fired.
The missiles sped away from her and towards her target that was already beginning to evade the missiles. She tracked them as best as she could on the radar as she swung back around and re-activated her afterburners.
The enemy fighter remained undamaged; she guessed that the missiles had impacted on a decoy. Other enemy ships weren't so lucky however.
Zulu's target died, as did Reed's as well as two other Amsus fighters. They were down to just two pursuers, and one of them had taken a fairly serious hit.
"They're falling back," said Flight Lieutenant Ryan Schneider after they'd been running again for another thirty seconds.
She grinned again as she imagined those two pilots trying to justify their failure to their C.O.
"I'm picking up more enemy contacts," Reed stated, "looks like two fleet carriers just jumped in behind the dreadnought. I'm also picking up four more Predators heading our way."
She should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
She resisted the urge to look at fuel gauge; she didn't want to know that she had about three seconds worth left. She also didn't want to give anxiety a foothold.
"New contacts," Masconi said, reading her instruments, "Amsus troop transports, at least five Raptors." She sighed, she could almost feel the sadness emanating from it, "This is it boys and girls. They're here. It is imperative that at least one of us gets this data back to the Hope. We can't let them be caught off guard by that thing."
Be that as it may, escape seemed doubtful at best. The Imperials had a fair lead on the enemy ships, but the gap was closing, on top of that we were running out of fuel, and the F-120 bombers were slowing everyone down.
"Stay alive all of you, that's an order." Masconi's wingman commanded, Squadron Leader Reed stated mechanically through her radio.
"What? What the hell are you talking about Squadron Leader?" Masconi demanded, arching her head to look out of the bubbled canopy trying to get a look at Reed.
It wasn't until she saw one of the blue dots on her radar head back towards the ever growing collection of red and orange dots that she knew what Reed was talking about.
"Are you insane?" Screamed Schneider.
"Get back here Squadron Leader," Masconi commanded, "Your dying won't slow them down."
"We don't have any other option, I'll buy you as much time as I can, and I'll take as many of these roach bastards with me."
Part of Masconi wanted to turn back and fight alongside her in a quasi-heroic death. That was pointless though, even if all but one of them turned back to fight, they wouldn't hold back the advancing fighters for long. Reed had made her choice, all Masconi could do was try to make it count for something.
A lot of yellow dots began to emerge from Squadron Leader Reed's F-120. Each heading towards a red dot.
Some veered away whereas others appeared to fly straight into the missiles. One of the red dots vanished. If the pilot had any thoughts about dying he kept them to himself.
Masconi wanted to pull her eyes away, to force herself to focus on something other then her wing mate's upcoming demise. Still, she was making the ultimate sacrifice for them, the least her Group Captain could do was pay attention as she did so.
Amsus fighters closed in around her, Masconi could picture it with unnerving clarity in her mind, Reed's bomber being smashed from all sides, her own weapon's fire becoming more sporadic, her shield's failing, segments of hull being torn away.
And then Reed was gone, the red dots moved away from each other to reveal the absence of a blue dot among them.
Masconi felt a stinging behind her eyes and tried, with limited success, to stop the tears before they arrived. This wasn't the time for mourning; not that her body seemed to care about that fact.
They were still heading towards them; Reed had given her life to slow them down for maybe twenty seconds. She could only hope it would be enough.
Camp David - Earth - Amsus Occupied Territory
~~*~~
James grunted, wondering again what the annoyingly short boyfriend of the Aga'khan had gotten him into now.
James let his eyes rove the inside of the dark cockpit. He checked his anti-gravity harness for any twists and gave his neck a couple of stretches so he'd be warmed up for the jump; as a Fida'i James was experienced, but not as young as he used to be. Satisfied, he let his mind wander to the chain of events that had formulated his current situation.
President Roger Hayes was a well-known and widely-acclaimed politician, famous for his rhetorical skill and striking presence. When he gave speeches even members of the opposition felt themselves drawn to the power that emanated off this man. However with popularity always comes problems. During one debate on various secondary policies, a member of the audience posing as one of the press had stood up and started to loudly heckle Hayes, accusing him of collaborating with the Amsus Occupation. They'd quickly hustled the men from the room, never to be heard from again.
Riley had taken that to mean it was open season on the President, and after the recent destruction of the White House, Hayes was on the ropes, it was time to finish the job.
The dim glimmer of LEDs gave James's black jumpsuit and oxygen helmet a green tinge. It was a little warm in the cramped space, but James knew that he'd soon be relieved.
"T-minus 30 seconds, James. You should land within 500 yards. Good luck."
Camp David lay nestled in the Eastern spur of the Blue Ridge Mountains. After the missile attack on the White House, the President and his family had been moved there permanently, TER-SEC believing that it was possible to protect their president from the threat of further Fifth Column terrorist attacks. They would all be there that night, but James was under strict orders not to alert them to his presence.
James quickly ran through the details on security in the half-minute before the jump.
"Seems Hayes hasn't held back on the old paranoia. In fact, that's reason to believe that he's hiding something. The lodge is surrounded by high walls, a few surprises at the top for the adept climber; glass and lots of it. There is an inordinate amount of cameras, we'd estimate 30 at the most. Luckily they are not infra-red, but you still have to take into account the many burglar lights. Hayes has employed a team of armed TER-SEC guards to patrol the grounds and deny access to the lodge itself. Try not to kill any of them, but I appreciate that it may be necessary. The lodge isn't open inside like most are. It has locked doors at every turn and motion sensors. No dogs, though, you're in luck there."
James rubbed an old scar; in his early days working for Zixor he'd run afoul of a guard dog and learned to loathe them.
"The documents are probably well-hidden, you'll need all the tools at your disposal. Take a picture of anything strange-looking. We'll have him in no time. I hate to put you back down to the level of house-breaking, James, but we need all the intel we can get about Amsus Operations."
The ship's door opened; an assistant held it steady and saluted James.
Then he dropped, gliding silently into the night like a dark ghost, spinning into the gloom while the ship blew noiselessly onwards.
Camp David - Earth - Amsus Occupied Territory
~~*~~
The anti-gravity harness fought tirelessly against the wind, James's descent slowed magnificently. He came in towards the ground fast, but training saw him through the landing, rolling on one shoulder until he came to a halt. The remains of the antigravity harness fluttered down around him. Flicking on his night vision, a dark green shape loomed up a little way off; the outer walls of the lodge. James moved quickly towards it.
It was a strange feeling, here on Earth. It wasn't like the dank, damp concrete and the icy air of Karin, or the stifling humidity of Eqyr-Ouso. Instead, the night was warm and an almost-full moon cast a shimmering shine upon the dry, hard soil and the scrubby vegetation. A few crickets chirped, and a lesser operative than James would've been distracted by the tranquil beauty of the rather unique American night. The mind was set to the job, though, and the scene went unappreciated. James was now at the base of the walls.
How to get over? Grappling hooks were not part of James's inventory, only a thin cord for abseiling downwards. Plus they made too much noise and left marks on masonry. Besides, James remembered the warning of glass. His suit was designed for silence in movement and camouflage in darkness, not for protection. He wasn't supposed to get shot at.
James continued to prowl the base of the outer wall, taking care to keep right up against it, well out of sight. The moon made it a lighter night than he would've liked. Then he looked round a corner, and saw two guards either side of a tall, ornate gate, shiny in the stark torchlight coming from the two men. They had PKD SMGs, complete with fitted silencers, and certainly looked like they had had good training. Riley was right; Hayes had really splashed out on the protection. There was a radius of about 5 metres around the men of dim light, cancelling out the possibility of getting close under cover of darkness. However they had no masks and were not patrolling. James's analytical Fida'i's brain was already calculating likely responses by them to his actions. They'd train their guns on any source of noise whatsoever, but would take a little time to respond, being bored Americans on the night-watch job.
James pulled out a weak smoke grenade, one with a concealment time of about 20 seconds. This would be more than ample. Tying in a coil of magnesium for added flare and wrapping it in an impact-absorbing roll of cloth, he aimed for the feet of the nearest guard, right in the middle of them. Leaning against the tiled, terracotta gateposts, the guards had a companionable silence going on. Not for long; soon their silence would be of the more involuntary variety.
The padded grenade erupted and sent thick white smoke furling into the lit area. James distinctly heard one of the guards shout some sort of confused oath, "What the---?!?" in true guard style. Smirking, James was on them in a matter of seconds, giving one of them a hefty palmstrike to the jaw, grabbing the other's wrist to stop the drawing of any weapons, then converting it into a figure-4 arm lock, manoeuvring behind him into the standard chokehold. Pressing his drawn blade against the guard's jugular, he quietly interrogated the poor man.
"What?!? Who--who are you?"
"In." James murmured.
The guard's breathing was harsh and panicked. Clearly he hadn't had much training in the way of being interrogated by invisible assassins.
"I---I----please, you don't need to hurt me! I have a key in my front pocket."
James stuck out his hand.
The guard complied, giving James the key. But as James took it, he struggled violently and went for an elbow to James's stomach. James's muscles had already been tensed though, as soon as he felt the rigidity in the guard's legs, preparing for a sudden movement. Disgusted, he lifted the man off the ground in a tight choke, letting the unconscious body eventually slide down next to the other's, still out cold.
He moved both limp forms to a darker patch, then unlocked the gate very quietly, surprised that it wasn't motorised or protected by keypad lock. An elementary mistake, but James was in.
Camp David - Earth - Amsus Occupied Territory
~~*~~
Inside the grounds, James took as many precautions as possible, knowing that at any point a camera might pick up his dark form hidden amongst all the shadows. He decided to have a stake-out and to determine his point of entry. A bush was nearby, silhouetted against the ground floodlights. James crawled right in underneath, feeling the scratchy, brittle twigs against him.
He took out a pair of high-definition binoculars and flicked on all the settings one by one and scanned. Night-vision told him that there was a heavily-guarded front door, ahead and to the right. The lodge's first corner was roughly at the centre of James's view, and he could see dancing lights coming from behind the next, probably reflections from water. He'd investigate in a second. Four windows spanned the front of the lodge, but they were all brightly lit, unlikely to be bedrooms. Thermal vision showed up a few patrolling guards, but they wouldn't be any problem unless he did something really stupid. Four or five at the most. Finally, the third setting, the electromagnetic pick-up, betrayed the presence of several cameras, dotted along the walls of the lodge. In the dark they were unlikely to spot him. James opted to investigate the water-reflections.
Keeping to the sides of the high outer wall, James rounded the corner and got a clear view of what was causing the reflections; namely a brightly-floodlit swimming pool. It shone out into the darkness, the water utterly still and immaculately maintained, not a floating leaf in sight. The calm waters added to the tranquil atmosphere, bright blue and smelling faintly of chlorine. Everything else around the water, even the rough brick lining the pool's edge, was in darkness. Above the pool area, a balcony jutted out from the side, with a sliding door leading into the main lodge. Near the balcony were more windows, these ones covered by drapes. These were the bedrooms. There were no guards in sight. James approached the base of the wall and looked for a way upwards.
There! A thick pipe going up to the roof, a few metres away. James gripped the pipe like a bear climbing a tree, and prepared to scale it, when he heard something coming from the area near the gates, where he had entered. A quiet little scuffling noise, probably footsteps. James quickly shinned up the pipe, then dropped and caught the edge of the balcony. Not wanting to be seen by whoever it was, he hoisted himself onto the balcony then crouched and drew out the long, slim metal lockpicks that he carried at all times. The sliding door-lock wasn't incredibly complicated; obviously someone accessing it was unlikely. Raking the lock to start with, James felt the tension-lever click four times. Four pins out was a good start. He inserted the hook for individual pins, and felt the last one blocking a full entry. Jiggling it up, he tightened his hold on the tension lever and felt the resistance give. The keyhole turned, James slid open the door and was inside.
The interior of the lodge was dark; clearly Hayes liked his sleep undisturbed by security lights. The floor was smooth and white-tiled in marble, in traditional French style having a hard shiny floor keeping the house nice and cool. A painting here and there hung up, but there wasn't too much pretentious luxury around the place. Most windows were uncovered by curtains, letting the moonlight reflect coldly off the floor, giving everything an eerie white shine. Keeping his night vision activated, James noted the absence of cameras inside. Very confident about his outside security was this President Hayes. Still, James conceded that any potential assassin would have to be good enough to take out two guards, be able to distribute your weight correctly on a vertical pipe and be able to pick locks.
Proceeding down the corridor, James could hear electronic sounds and recorded music. Peeking into an open room on his left, he saw the back of someone's head rising up above the back of a small sofa. It looked like a teenage boy, and he was getting in some good old-fashioned midnight gaming. The light from the TV threw a slightly sickly greenish glow across the whole scene, and the boy was clearly engrossed in his game, goggle-eyed and emotionless. James left him to it and trod softly past, hearing the game throwing out sounds as he went.
James's eyes narrowed slightly; however, he couldn't tell what was bothering him. Maybe it was the moonlight, making everything brighter than what was convenient. He ignored the boy and passed by behind. It took about five minutes for him to locate some stairs at the pace he was sneaking. He climbed them quietly, and got to an upstairs landing, with doors left and right stretching onwards down the corridor.
Suddenly Riley's voice pierced his eardrum, annoying and grumpy. James could even feel his hairs bristle on the back of his neck. That voice, it really pissed him off. He'd actually developed a physiological reaction to it.
"James, Hayes's family will be on this floor. Under no circumstances are you to interact with them."
"Of course, Riley..." James murmured. He detested wasted words, and if the Field Marshal would just let him get on with his job… "I've already come across little Hayes junior. Plugged into the trid."
"At this time? My God, James, be more careful. He could've seen you..." Riley sounded worried.
"Unlikely. He was staring at that thing like a new Amsus Trooper stares at his new Kalashnikov DT-09."
"Keep your eyes peeled for any signs of those documents. And remember, no interaction whatsoever."
James took the first door on the right. It certainly didn't look like a hiding place for any documents. There was a dark shape James took to be a bed, and a chest of drawers on which stood a collection of plastic ponies. James raised his eyebrows and turned to leave. He stopped dead, however, when he saw that the door was shut and that there was a little shadow up to somewhere around his knees. He glanced downwards. A little girl was standing there in a nightie, with big green eyes and long brown hair. James wondered how the hell she'd managed to be so quiet.
"Hello. Are you the tooth fairy?"
"I… uh... what? A fairy?" James said, looking bewildered.
"My mommy read me a story about the tooth fairy who comes and takes our teeth leaving money. Are you the tooth fairy?"
"Err...not entirely. Aren't fairies usually girls?" James was perplexed, he was pretty sure he'd seen some while stuck on that accursed Karin hell-hole, usually after a couple of stout knock to the head.
"Mommy said that it doesn't matter, boys can do anything girls can do. He's are allowed to be fairies too, the same as girls can be firefighters."
James wondered if she'd had a chance to meet Matt Elias… "I...see...well this is all a strange dream you're having, kid. You'd...uh...better go back to bed." James secretly wondered if other Fida'i ever had the kind of problems he had.
The little girl wordlessly got into bed and lay there watching him, her eyes open. James didn't move until her eyelids eventually drooped, and she started to breathe slowly and evenly.
Riley's voice beat into his ear again.
"Godammit, James! I thought I said no interaction! You're meant to be finding valuable intelligence, not chatting to kids about whether you are a fairy or whether you are not! For God's sake get moving!"
James decided he really disliked Riley, and vowed to do something particularly unpleasant to the man in the near future. He still had a pack of golf balls he'd been saving. He was still slightly bemused at how surreal the whole thing had been. On a mission and he had just had a conversation with a little girl. It was definitely the wrong room.
After exiting the kid's bedroom, James opted for a more stealthy way of picking the right room, inserting his optic cable under the doors to judge whether it was worth investigating or not. He ignored a bathroom and a small shower-room, then threaded the cable under the next door.
Another room, but this one was maturely decorated. The bed was a double one, and a large curtain covered the whole of one wall, completely lined with windows. From the looks of it, this was the room of the two adult Hayes. It wasn't locked, so James tilted the door ajar and looked in. Hayes and his wife were definitely in the four poster bed - the snores were bordering on cataclysmic. James entered and closed the door gently, then proceeded to search the room. With night vision on full power, he searched the wardrobe, the drawers and a desk. The only place worth looking next was the bedside table, a few centimetres away from Mr. Hayes's side of the bed. Great caution would be needed here.
"James, what's going on? It sounds like someone is dragging a walrus across a rubber mat..."
James didn't even honour the comment with a retort. He tried the drawer, which was locked. He drew out his lockpicks and set to work, this lock being rather more advanced than the previous one. The tension was high, meaning he needed to keep a permanently tight grip with his left hand. As he worked, Roger Hayes face was mere inches from James's, breathing steadily into his face. James thought about asking for a full mask on every mission. Then, Hayes stirred in his sleep, giving a few jerks and mutters. James held his own breath. After Hayes had settled, James closed his eyes, mouthed a prayer to Allah, and jinked the final pin, letting off a little click.
Laptop in hand, James flipped it over and inserted the TAC-link into an open port, booting the computer up and ready to flash download the contents of the hard drive to the Anger of Hades, and the team of Intelligence officers eagerly awaiting it.
TA-DAAA boomed the obnoxious trumpets of the Denver '12 operating system, welcoming him to the GUI.
James's shoulders sagged as he turned his head slightly; deciding that he'd also personally deliver another golf ball to the damnable creator of the computer operating system, express rectal delivery…
The President's eyes shot open as James's hand snaked out, pressing the contact patch to the other man's temple before the President could fully open his eyes. The toxin would ensure the President would wake up with a raging hangover and not remember his brief second of consciousness that night.
He glanced over at the First Lady, surprised at the fact that she continued to snore, oblivious to the plight of her husband's precious files. Which were in the process of uploading as she slumbered.
Task complete, James vanished back into the night, making his way to the EVAC sight, where the dropship was already waiting ready to bring him back to the Anger of Hades, triumphant.