The space dock was a massive open area through which all ship traffic to the station was routed. Freighters like the one they’d stowed away on docked in a designated area away from civilian transports.
“Contact,” Denton said.
Connor looked over and saw a standard Bosheir Security Mech patrolling the dock. The large mech could either be piloted by a person or engaged in patrol mode, allowing the mech’s AI or pilot to remotely operate the machine. Large cannons gleamed on the mech’s metallic forearms, and its head swiveled in their direction.
“Hold. It’s a T-series 10-01 and can’t detect us,” Reisman said.
Connor waited. Samson had the mech in his sights, his heavy rocket launcher ready to go if needed, but the mech turned away from them and stalked off.
The Ghosts headed in the direction the mech had gone, watching as work drones went about unloading the shipping containers after transfer off the ship. The heavily armed soldiers systematically moved forward two by two, with the first group clearing the area before the next group came up and took point. Most of them were armed with a third generation M32 pulse rifle with grenade launcher. The compact firearm packed quite a punch for its size and was ideal for close-quarters combat.
The few actual dockworkers in the area didn’t notice them as they made their way across the docks and entered one of the large freight elevators.
“Reisman, we need those markings,” Connor said.
His intelligence officer worked through the options on his holo-interface while Connor kept a careful watch on the elevator’s progress toward one of Chronos Station’s many common areas. An empty elevator would certainly be noticed by the local security office.
“Okay, time to blend in with the locals,” Reisman said. He gestured with his hand as if flinging something at his squad mates. Within moments their combat suits produced a realistic-looking hologram of someone who lived on the station.
Samson growled. “Come on, man. You turned me into a pregnant woman.”
The others grinned. Connor glanced down at his own combat suit and saw that Reisman had assigned him the hologram of Chronos Station security force personnel—black armor and a helmet that only showed his jawline underneath the visor.
“That’s the way it goes, Samson. This time you drew the short straw. Congratulations! You’re about eight months pregnant,” Reisman said.
Samson turned toward Hank. “What are you laughing at? You got stuck with the grandma this time.”
Connor glanced around at all of them to be sure there were no abnormalities in anyone’s hologram. “Alright, by the numbers. Check each other out,” Connor said.
The disguises were preconfigured for operations that brought them among civilians, and they used forms that put the casual onlooker off guard. Not many people would look twice at a pregnant woman or an elderly couple.
Connor checked Kasey, whose outward appearance resembled a morbidly obese man. Maintaining the hologram was taxing on their combat suit computers and couldn’t be sustained for more than a few hours.
The elevator doors opened and the Ghosts exited. They followed a few corridors and were ushered through a security checkpoint. They didn’t carry any heavy ordnance, and the scanners wouldn’t be able to detect the ceramic composite that made up their combat suits. They did, however, need to store their weapons so they couldn’t be detected.
The squad divided as they made their way across an expansive common area. Chronos Station sported blue skies and a parklike setting for its patrons. Though Connor couldn’t smell the air, he imagined it was as fresh as if he were standing on a forested pathway back on Earth. Chronos Station was among the largest in the solar system and was restricted to the more affluent population. There was enough space for everyone and hardly any crowds, so the risk of someone accidentally brushing past the hologram and actually bumping into them was almost nonexistent.
The Ghosts converged on the platform for the maglev trains. Maglev trains didn’t make any noise, and the top-of-the-line inertia dampeners gave no indication that they were traveling nearly five hundred kilometers an hour. The train cars were luxurious, and Connor noticed a few squad members glance longingly toward the food stations. Being topside on an op was a rare treat. Usually, they traveled through the bowels of a location and stayed out of sight, but there was no doubt the Syndicate would have ample security monitors watching all those entry points. Connor was wagering that their unorthodox approach would get them close enough to where the head of the Syndicate kept himself that their surprise attack would make escape all but impossible.
A flickering of light caught Connor’s eye and he turned toward it. Samson’s hologram was slipping, and Connor’s mouth tightened. No one else on the train seemed to have noticed, so Connor walked over and gestured for Kasey to follow him. They were joined by two of the others as they circled around Samson. Reisman went over to Samson and swore.
Connor glanced behind him and saw Reisman working on Samson’s combat suit. The hologram was nowhere to be seen. Perfect. He just wanted this to run smoothly, and having a damn suit processor fail on them wasn’t that.
Kasey cleared his throat, and Connor turned back around. A small boy was looking at him, and his gaze narrowed suspiciously.
Connor waved. “Hello there, Citizen,” he said, using the deepest official voice he could muster.
The boy’s eyes widened and he backed away a few steps. Then he turned around and darted over to his family.
“Check this out,” Kasey said, gesturing toward the wallscreen.
The image of a massive spaceship under construction at the Martian shipyards was displayed and a commentator began to speak:
The Ark—humanity’s valiant effort to reach beyond the confines of our solar system to establish the first interstellar colony out among the stars. We’re now just weeks away from the Ark’s christening, Earth’s first interstellar colony ship will begin the longest journey ever embarked upon by mankind—a journey that began over a hundred years ago in 2105 when the star XPA6 was first observed among a group that held our best hope of an Earth-sized planet. Probes were sent out to see if any of these stars could support life as we experience it here on Earth. In 2182 we finally got our answer and the Ark program was born. Now, in 2217, three hundred thousand people will embark on a journey that will take eighty-four years to complete…
Connor stopped listening and glanced at the info-terminal beneath the wallscreen. The train was approaching their stop. “You have twenty-five seconds to get it fixed,” he whispered.
The boy returned with a teenage girl who was probably his older sister, followed by his parents. The boy was gesturing toward them.
Connor stopped himself from shaking his head. He hadn’t come all this way to be pestered by an overprivileged eleven-year-old brat. Connor faced them and put as much stern into his stance as he could while the others stood poised to knock out the family with stunners if they became a problem.
Just look away, kid, Connor pleaded in his mind.
The train came to a stop and Connor felt someone tap his shoulder.
“I’m feeling much better now. Thank you,” Samson said, but his voice sounded like that of a woman.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Connor replied.
The boy rubbed the back of his head as if he wasn’t quite sure what he’d seen while his father ushered him off the train. Connor motioned for his squad to wait a few seconds and then they exited the train as well.
“Commander, I bypassed a bad processor branch, but the hologram’s gonna overload it if we can’t find cover in a few minutes,” Reisman said.