User blog:Morhek/TYPHON

 JANUARY 13TH, 2533 (MILITARY CALENDAR) / TRIPLE ASPECT STUDIOS, HYDRA VIII, ALPHA HYDRAE SYSTEM   Night fell early on Hydra. The sun had set hours ago, and darkness had fallen upon the parking lot. The security guard shivered, pulling his coat tighter around him, sweeping the area with his flashlight. The lights in the studio were all off, and his little torch was the only source of light except for a few streetlamps outside the parking lot. The studio normally didn’t employ guards, Henry mused. Who would want to break into it? The most advanced recording equipment was already on the black market and the stock wardrobe…his sisters were fashion designers on Reach, and to say that they were behind the times was an understatement. But Hydra had seen a sudden surge in rebel activity, and the security department had been created to satisfy the few stockholders the company had left. Of course, Henry thought, a single security guard with a flashlight wouldn’t be much good against a truck packed with C12 explosives, or a cadre of terrorists wielding firearms of all sorts, especially since all he carried was a stun baton for defence. But it was the look of the thing that was important. Henry had been hired because saying they were employing an ex-Marine with combat experience sounded good, especially these days. What they hadn’t told the stockholders was that Henry was sixty, slightly balding, and had retired in 2507. He doubted he could carry one of the newer MA5 rifles, but at least he’d kept up with his CQC training – he took Taekwondo classes every Sunday, mostly because Mrs Elkman took them as well, and it involved a lot of bending. There was a small crunch of boots on gravel, and he whirled around, thoughts of gun-toting maniacs still fresh in his mind. “Who’s there? Show yourself!” There was a small pause, and then a figure emerged into the light. Henry relaxes, loosening his grip on the stun baton. “Oh, it’s you, miss.” Katherine Curric was slight, but tall, and certainly attractive. She had to be – as the lead announcer for “Hydra News at 20:00,” she was watched by thousands of colonists, and was the voice of the news. She smiled at him. “Sorry for scaring you, Henry. I just left some of my stuff in my office, and thought I’d get it tonight.” Henry frowned. “You couldn’t have waited until morning, Miss Curric?” “They’re files on current events – I need to read them to familiarise myself with the possible news headlines tomorrow. And, of course, there are always the updates.” “Still, it’s not safe at night these days – bloody Innies could blow up another building.” <p class="MsoNormal">She gave a small laugh. “Surely nobody would bother with us?” <p class="MsoNormal">Henry shrugged. “These days, they’ll go after anyone with UNSC ties, it seems. And we get the propaganda from Earth, same as the other stations.” <p class="MsoNormal">Henry moved closer, and saw that Katherine was carrying a laptop and a briefcase. He flashed his light on them, curious. <p class="MsoNormal">“I thought you were getting stuff? That case looks a bit heavy-” The last thing he heard before everything went black was “Sorry Henry.” <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal">The door was locked, but Katherine still swiped her card through the reader anyway. To her own surprise, the doors slid open – the executives must have really trusted her. <p class="MsoNormal">Her accomplices fanned out, sweeping the corridors for more guards. She had already told them that Henry, now lying in the car park in a pool of blood, was the only guard on staff, but they didn’t want to take that chance. She could respect that position – these men were professionals who did this for a living, and stayed alive by being very good at what they did. But she also felt slighted. <p class="MsoNormal">Maybe that was why she hadn’t told them what the laptop was for. <p class="MsoNormal">Eventually, she came to the one door that she knew wouldn’t open for her – the saferoom. She clicked open the briefcase, taking out a few small objects. An observer would have seen only a few fridge magnets, arranged in the alphabet – Katherine had bought them a few days ago, telling the cashier they were for a niece. <p class="MsoNormal">She attached them around left-hand side of the door, backed up around the corner again, and pulled out her phone. <p class="MsoNormal">They exploded. <p class="MsoNormal">It wasn’t a big explosion, but it was certainly enough that any security guards that were in the building would come rushing to investigate. Presumably, her “friends” would take care of them. She stepped daintily through the door, and looked around the room. <p class="MsoNormal">The saferoom was the one place she had never been in before – ostensibly, it was to keep the hard cash profits the studio executives made. <p class="MsoNormal">Profits. She sniggered quietly to herself. The studio was going under, and hadn’t been turning up a profit for years until she had joined. Suddenly, she was the life of the party – invited to all the top functions and events, known as the Face of Triple Aspect. She’d become a celebrity almost without trying. It had been so easy. Almost too easy. <p class="MsoNormal">They still weren’t doing well financially, though, and the profits they did make were all electronic, wired to a private account at Juno Securities Ltd. The Execs might have been planning to take it with them when they disappeared, or perhaps dump it into yet another scheme to return to their glory days, but they’d never get that chance. <p class="MsoNormal">The Insurrection needed funding. And that was Katherine’s job. She liked to think she was good at it, but the truth was she was very good at it. <p class="MsoNormal">She set the briefcase down as the lifted her laptop, setting it on the desk and plugging into the terminal. There was a brief scroll of data – a program someone had stolen from ONI, however they’d managed that feat of genius – and then she was in she grinned, and tapped on the small earpiece. <p class="MsoNormal">“I’m in. Transferring the money now.” <p class="MsoNormal"><i>“Great, luv. Do it quick and quiet and maybe you’ll get your cut.”</i> <p class="MsoNormal">“Don’t tell me how to do my job, and maybe you’ll get your cut,” she scoffed. <p class="MsoNormal">Someone laughed in the background, quickly silenced. She’d been smart to open the channel to a public frequency, then – the others weren’t as smart as their boss, a man by the name of Kenneth. They might do something stupid, like stand up for her. <p class="MsoNormal">Well, stupid was fine by her. She didn’t need smart. She needed money. <p class="MsoNormal">That was, strictly speaking, the limit of her involvement in the Hydra Liberation Front. She’d been asked to scout the job, get an idea of security and layout, and then hand it over to Mr. Kenneth and his associates. Not trusting them totally, like any smart girl, she had insisted that she be the one to get the money –she diverted a small amount to her own private account, while the rest went into one of the hundreds of front companies for the HLF. <p class="MsoNormal">There had been talk of secession – the Colonial Authority wasn’t popular out here, like the rest of the Outer Colonies. But after the bombing of parliament and attempted coup in 2499, public opinion had turned against the Insurrectionists too. It had been the UNSC swooping in, saving the day, while the Innies had looted and raped, and the public had never forgotten that. Neither had the Insurrection – the supposed United Rebel Front had become a little less united after that, leaving the Hydra rebels high and dry in the funding department. <p class="MsoNormal">Hence this little escapade. <p class="MsoNormal">It wouldn’t be much, not compared to some of the other jobs they had pulled in their time, but it would be enough to keep them going for a little while. And, of course, Katherine would be making a tidy little profit, enough to finally get off this rock and get to Reach, where the real jobs were. The Big Money, as they said in the trade. <p class="MsoNormal">There was a small beep as the process finished, and she tapped on her earpiece again. <p class="MsoNormal">“Done,” she said, a grin plastered across her face in the darkened room. “The money’s in your account. Let’s get out of here and count our ill-gotten gains.” <p class="MsoNormal">No reply. <p class="MsoNormal">She tapped the earpiece again, making sure the channel was open. It was – they just weren’t replying. She frowned, suddenly concerned. <p class="MsoNormal">“Tap the earpiece if you’re engaged.” <p class="MsoNormal">There were two muffled bursts of static – and then she panicked. <p class="MsoNormal">There wasn’t more security, was there? It had just been old Henry, who was no longer a problem. Wasn’t it? No. CEO Harrison would have told her – she’d asked, as a bit of pillow talk, and he’d been eager to share the details – any thing she wanted. He’d told her, it was hers ad long as she didn’t tell his wife. <p class="MsoNormal">If Mr. Kenneth’s team was “engaged,” that meant there was someone else, and that they were a threat. And that meant that Katherine was in trouble, too. <p class="MsoNormal">She closed the laptop, wiping its memory disk, and pulled the phone out of her pocket again, attaching it to the briefcase lid and punching in a few numbers. Fuck Kenneth. She was getting out of here. She pulled something else from her pocket – a small pistol with a handgrip and laser sight, former UNSC Marine Corps issue. <p class="MsoNormal">She poked her head out of the door, sweeping the corridor with the M6C, and made her way back through the building. The lights were still off, and shadows filled the building – she hadn’t expected it to be so creepy, but she stopped herself from getting jumpy. Maybe Kenneth was wrong? Maybe it was just a cat or something? Or maybe- <p class="MsoNormal">The hand came from behind her – how had she not heard them? She reacted instinctively – SING; sole, instep, nose, groin. She got as far as sole, trying to stab her attacker with her high heels, before swearing at the sound of metal ringing on metal, and an arm came up under her neck, pressing tightly. <p class="MsoNormal">“Izvineetye, miss,” she heard someone whisper, and then her world became a little darker. <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal">Andrew monitored the helmet-mounted display counter. Two hours in – someone’s Intel had been good. He couldn’t see the ONI van from the window, but he knew it could see him – he’d insisted they be far back. He didn’t want them scaring the Innie’s off. <p class="MsoNormal">It had been twenty minutes. He was sick of waiting. <p class="MsoNormal">“COM check. Report in.” <p class="MsoNormal">“I have Miss Curric on the cameras,” said a thick Russian-accented voice.<i> “Evidently she doesn’t know the security systems as well as she thought she did – or as well as her boss thought he did. She’s on her way out of the saferoom.”</i> <p class="MsoNormal">“Forget the other team, Jeremy. Neutralise her.” <p class="MsoNormal">“Da.” <p class="MsoNormal">A small section of the display flashed, and he opened a small text box. <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt">&lt;\ Tally six bandits, corridors thirteen-through-seventeen, second floor</b> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal">Andrew opened a second COM channel. <p class="MsoNormal">“Copy, Laura. Get me a live feed – the last thing I need is a blue-on-blue.” <p class="MsoNormal">The textbox expanded, linked to a camera, showing two of the men. They cradles M7 submachine guns in their arms, and M6 pistols strapped to thigh holsters – definitely not Triple Aspect Security issue. <p class="MsoNormal">The security guard outside was beyond their help. A shot to the head was generally lethal, but he’d clung on for a while, trying to crawl to the security booth. Another of the intruders had put another bullet into the man, stopping his attempt to call in backup. Andrew had watched from the security cameras – he knew they couldn’t interfere, not yet, but it made him feel a little helpless to see the old man murdered so brutally…and not be able to do something about it. <p class="MsoNormal">He consoled himself with the fact that afterwards, the future of these men was about as bright as the unlucky guard’s. <p class="MsoNormal">He checked his own weapon – normally, he would use a submachine gun for close quarters work, especially in these tight corridors, but he’d decided to go with a little less firepower. The M6D had been field stripped earlier and the barrel switched to fire nonlethal rounds. And, of course, there was always the other weapon, strapped to his thigh plate. <p class="MsoNormal">Indigo Team had been sent by ONI to deal with the planet’s Insurrectionist problem. Hydra was a built-up colony well behind the frontlines – or, at least, the current frontlines – and the last thing they needed was an Insurrectionist group stirring up discontent against the UNSC and forcing them to post a combat unit to keep the peace. There much worse things out there that needed fighting – like the Covenant. The UNSC just couldn’t spare anybody for the anti-insurgency operations, and that meant that the few rebel groups that were still functional had an almost free reign. <p class="MsoNormal">Most of them had collapsed when the glassing of Harvest by the Covenant had been announced – centuries of fractures, and the only uniting force had become xenophobia. It struck Andrew as ironic that humanity finally had justification for its most ancient trait. But there had been holdouts – some had decried the Covenant as an elaborate ONI conspiracy; others had decided that the war was the UNSC’s fault, and hoped the Covenant would simply pass them by. And others, such as on Hydra, had turned to a profitable life of terrorism and crime. <p class="MsoNormal">Indigo was here to stop that. <p class="MsoNormal">The audio speakers picked up sounds, forty meters south-west, and Andrew melted into the shadows. It should have been hard, in two meters of iridescent green MJOLNIR, but he’d always been good at making himself blend into the background. It didn’t matter what your eyes saw, if your mind insisted there was nothing there. And as the two men wandered past him, their minds must have been screaming “EMPTY SPACE.” He could have reached out and touched them <p class="MsoNormal">So he did. <p class="MsoNormal">The first one went down, knocked out by a blow to the head. The second whirled around, brought up his weapon – and then gaped, as Andrew reached out, took the weapon from him, and crumpled it like paper. He turned to run, but Andrew was too fast for him – a foot lashed out, and the rebel was down on the floor. His mouth opened to scream, and closed as his eyes bulged. Andrew pressed his foot tightly against the man’s neck – not tight enough to suffocate, but he’d be losing conscious right about…now. <p class="MsoNormal">And that was two. Just four more to go. <p class="MsoNormal">“I’ve got Miss Curric,” said Jeremy over the COM. <i> “She set up a briefcase of explosives – neutralised now. I also have a laptop – thorough job wiping it, but I’m sure ONI can extract something useful from it.”</i> <p class="MsoNormal">So much for honour among thieves, he thought. <p class="MsoNormal">“Tag it and bag it. ONI can recover it later. Where have you put Curric?” <p class="MsoNormal">“She’s currently passed out in a broom closet.” <p class="MsoNormal">“Tag that too. I don’t want to be burdened down by dead weight, in either sense of the word.” <p class="MsoNormal">“You think the Innies would eliminate her themselves?” <p class="MsoNormal">“If she’d told them about the bomb, they wouldn’t still be checking for guards. We’ll have to assume they’d think the same way as she did.” <p class="MsoNormal">The cameras had gone dark, now, with static replacing the images of the building. They’d found the secondary security hub after all – these Innies certainly were thorough. <p class="MsoNormal">“Scratch that. Get Curric out of the building. They’ve cut the cameras, so presumably they know we’re here – and they might try to get rid of liabilities.” <p class="MsoNormal">“Affirmative. Would you like any help?” <p class="MsoNormal">Andrew looked down at the two unconscious men at his fleet. He pulled out a length of fibre wire. <p class="MsoNormal">“No, I don’t think so.” <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal">“Tanner, Kentman, come in! Tanner, you sonuvabitch, come in!” <p class="MsoNormal">Harold Limburger didn’t like this. Not one bit. One old man, and a few electronic security checkpoints. That was all there was supposed to be – that was all the studio had bought. And then, when he’d found the camera, he’d gotten suspicious. Tracing it back to the control room, he’d found a sophisticated network of thermal sensors and cameras, some of them small. Very small. And they’d certainly passed through the field of vision of some, if not most, of them. <p class="MsoNormal">There was nobody there, but that didn’t mean anything. It all looked recent, way out of the studio’s budget – somebody else had been setting this up. <p class="MsoNormal">Somebody knew they were here. <p class="MsoNormal">Damn. <p class="MsoNormal">“Okay boys, we’re getting out of here. Pack the gear up and move out.” <p class="MsoNormal">One of them men had been gazing wide-eyed around them at the equipment. Now he looked panicked. <p class="MsoNormal">“’Arry, this doesn’t look like-” <p class="MsoNormal">“No lad. Just get out, quick and quiet. This job’s just turned FUBAR.” <p class="MsoNormal">The boy nodded, raised his pistol, and stepped out of the doorway. There was a muffled shout, a thud…and then silence. <p class="MsoNormal">Harold swore. <p class="MsoNormal">He dashed out of the door, firing blindly at whoever was out there. He didn’t stop to look – he just knew he had to get out of there. There were a few thuds as bullets slammed into walls, and then he was behind the corned, rifle still pointed at where young Jimmy had been. <p class="MsoNormal">There was nobody there. Nothing. <p class="MsoNormal">He frowned, confused. He’d expected a chase at least – had they really been intimidated by his little show of force? He started to relax – if they were, then whoever they were dealing with amateurs, and amateurs made mistakes. If he could get to the laptop, get it out of there, he could- <p class="MsoNormal">Later, he would wonder how he had let it happen – how he had been stupid enough to let it happen. He had passed the door. The one that led into a room that was now on the other side of the corner. Separated only by thin plaster even he could have broken through. But he had sat there, feeling smug about himself, right up to the point when an arm punched through the plaster. <p class="MsoNormal">Limburger watched in horror as…something forced its way through, bits of wood and rusted metal falling from it like a fine mist of snow. For a moment he thought it was a Covenant – nothing human could be<i> that</i> big, surely? – And fired his weapon almost instinctively. <p class="MsoNormal">The bullet deflected off the…things…chest plate and into the wall. Harold’s hands weren’t his own anymore – the gun fell to the floor with a clatter as the grasped his chest. And then he followed it, screaming. <p class="MsoNormal">The thing looked down at him, coldly, and then kicked the weapon aside. In one of his hands he held a taser, now switched off. Harold still convulsed, but less frequently – and out of some compartment, it pulled out a tranquiliser needle. <p class="MsoNormal">That was four down. Two left. <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal">Kenneth and the boy were scared now. The boy had been scared the whole night, but Kenneth had tried to keep his composure. He was the team leader, he was the one responsible for this op, and if he panicked now everyone else would too. <p class="MsoNormal">Except there was nobody else. It was just him and the boy. <p class="MsoNormal">He didn’t even know the kids name, but they were running now, running away from the thing that had got Harry. They didn’t even look at each other – they just ran. <p class="MsoNormal">They didn’t get far. <p class="MsoNormal">A line had been set down low, and the boy tripped face forward onto the floor. Kenneth managed to stop, turn and run – he ignored the kid's abruptly interrupted pleas for help. This was why he didn’t know names – you couldn’t mourn someone you didn’t know. <p class="MsoNormal">This was primal fear now. His gun on its sling was almost forgotten (almost) as he thundered through the corridor, desperately trying to get to the lobby. Anyone passing through it was open to attack, but it was also little more than glass – a couple of shots, and he’d be out of this asylum, maybe reach the truck, and then he’d be home free! <p class="MsoNormal">He was close now – why the hell had he insisted on checking the second floor too! He was almost at the elevator and then- <p class="MsoNormal">Something stepped into his path. It was big. It was green. And it looked like it could rip him apart with its bare hands. <p class="MsoNormal">Kenneth didn’t give it the chance. <p class="MsoNormal">His submachine gun came up, spraying the thing with bullets – a couple ricocheted, but it stepped back into cover. Some little part of his mind thought to itself, “interesting – so they’re not invulnerable?” But the rest of his mind told him to RUN! <p class="MsoNormal">He leaped into the elevator and slammed the button. The metal doors slid closed – and then two hands jammed themselves into the elevator doors, ripping them back bit by bit- <p class="MsoNormal">He reacted instantly. He’d bought it from the black-market a while ago, and had kept it as a souvenir, or to intimidate rookie Insurrectionists – but now it was the perfect weapon. He hefted the Brute Mauler and fired. <p class="MsoNormal">Metal fletchettes struck the thing and it staggered back momentarily – long enough for the elevator to slide down, out of its reach. <p class="MsoNormal">Kenneth sighed. And then the laughter started. <p class="MsoNormal">He was alive! He knew the stairs were too far for the thing to reach, and he could make it to the lobby. And by the time it got there, he’d be across the parking lot. If it had wanted to kill him, it would have – it hadn’t fired a shot. He didn’t think it would fire, and if he could reach the truck, he could get away! Survive! <p class="MsoNormal">The elevator door opened, and Kenneth stepped out, trying to regain his composure. He swept the area with his weapon, and stepped forward- <p class="MsoNormal">And then the ceiling crumbled. <p class="MsoNormal">To an extent all ceilings become floors, and a floor is only so much timber and steel cobbled together with screws and nails. It had been designed for normal people, and possible some heavy equipment on trolleys. It certainly hadn’t been designed for half a ton of powered armour. <p class="MsoNormal">It had taken one jump. That was all. And Andrew came crashing down through wood and steel girder, right on top of Kenneth. <p class="MsoNormal">And a human body is certainly more fragile than wood and steel. <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal">ADDENDUM \ AFTER ACTION REPORT \ UNSC-NAVSPECWEP-OPS, FILE: [REDACTED] <p class="MsoNormal">SUBJECT: HYDRA INSURRECTIONIST FRONT

<p class="MsoNormal"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:&quot;Courier New&quot;"> Information provided by informant proved to be accurate. Operation TYPHON resulted in the detention of six Insurrectionist personnel and the death of one Insurrectionist, with only one civilian casualty. Recommend cleanup crew dispatched to scene for structural repair and removal of human detritus. <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:&quot;Courier New&quot;"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:&quot;Courier New&quot;">Only one detainee (Subject 332A/KC) was a member of the Hydra Liberation Front. Other six members were hired mercenaries beyond the HLF’s ability to hire – two of the younger members were former UNSC soldiers, and team leader (CMA Service Number: 87677-34756-KO) was ex-CMA Marine Corps. Investigation is ongoing, but evidence exists that this was a joint operation by the HLF and external Insurrectionist forces at continuing funding. It may indicate a sudden popularity downturn on their part, as I expected, and a crumbling economic base. UNSC <i>Gaius Julius Caesar</i> s en route for pickup and transport to Reach for further interrogation. <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:&quot;Courier New&quot;"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:&quot;Courier New&quot;">Civilian security personnel was pronounced DOA by arriving paramedics, who were detained by my men for debriefing. Single Insurrectionist (CMA Service Number: 87677-34756-KO) was killed during attempts to detain him. Otherwise, mission was total success – we captured a high profile Insurrectionist, stopped a bombing, and captured some very valuable intelligence. Oracle is reconstructing the crystal data matrix – all data leaves a trace, and she is very good at finding it. I expect intelligence on local Insurrectionist infrastructure, and perhaps communications with external allied rebel forces. <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:&quot;Courier New&quot;"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:&quot;Courier New&quot;">Mission Status: SUCCESS