Deejay's face appeared on one of the monitors. "Good job, Jinx. I'm familiar with the system. I had high-level administrative privileges when I worked with MI. Left behind a backdoor via a rootkit to get me back in undetected. The trick is reversing the XORing so your payload can operate nominally."
"Security has an autodetect on proxy chains."
"Saw that. I created a covert channel to bypass."
"Qué nítido, Deejay! I would have had problems doing all of this on my own."
Deejay smiled. "I told you we could help each other."
Cash stood on a dusty roadside just outside the Haven's force shield with Agent Hessler, listening to the chatter between Jinx and Deejay. He shook his head. "Hacker talk. Like another language. I don't even know what they're saying."
Hessler stared at the Haven. Just inside the shielding, drones were visible. Patrolling for intrusions, ready to unleash digitally-precise barrages of gunfire at anything perceived as a threat. That was only one degree of security. There were more. Much more.
"You know how may Nimrod crews showed up before you guys?"
"Nope."
"Fifteen. Fifteen crews showed up, and that's not counting the lone wolves who tried to get in on their own."
"Any of them make it?"
"Not one of them. Most lost their lives, and the rest limped off licking their wounds. Not many showed up after that. I think the word's gotten out."
"Well, none of them were us. Figured we'd be late to the party, though. We were in New Mexico when we got the word. Almost in Texas."
"It's not called New Mexico anymore. But it will be. As soon as we get it back."
"From who? The UH planning on going to war with Mexico?"
"We plan to negotiate with Mexico."
"Yeah, I bet. Probably the same way they negotiated with Mexico before. Or the Natives. Or whatever race or nationality got in their way. The government loves some good negotiation tactics, don't they? Manifest Destiny reborn, isn't that what the senators are screaming about in Haven DC?"
"It's… not like that anymore."
Cash snorted a laugh. "Who are you trying to kid? I was part of the program, bud. I know what it's like on the inside."
Hessler gave him a surprised look. "You were HSSC?"
"Hell no. I was a cop. A Detective in Amazon Haven, Washington. Busting bad guys, cleaning up the streets. But I know all about you HSSC suits. Infiltrating neutral Territories. Causing chaos, then taking over when everything goes to hell. Like the op you guys pulled in Chicago twenty-some years ago. Assassinating a civil rights leader to incite mass riots. Disgusting."
"That's just a conspiracy theory."
"Keep telling yourself that, Hessler. Either you're blind, or your superiors don't trust you enough to tell you the truth. You might be one of the good ones. If that's the case, you should get out when you have a chance. While you still have a soul."
"Like you did?"
Cash paused to light a cigarillo. "No. I didn't. My mistake. One I'm still paying for. Will be paying for it for the rest of my life."
"So, you went from detective to Nimrod? There's a lot of other occupations you could have went with. Why bounty hunting?"
"The work is more honest, for one. I'm my own boss, operate by my own rules."
Hessler glanced over. "And take on strays when you feel like it."
Cash followed his gaze. Happy leaned against the Battle-Cat on the other side of the road, frowning at Hessler and toying with her razor-edged knife as if more than happy to use it on him. Beside her, Mateo sat cross-legged on the ground, expertly juggling small rocks in complicated, interlocking circles.
Cash exhaled a stream of smoke through his nostrils. "Yeah, I guess so."
"You know you can't trust her, right? She's a seasoned killer. One of the best. And she doesn't have a good track record with the crews she's worked with. Maybe because she's assassinated most of them."
"Yeah, I'm sure they had it coming. You gonna take her in after this is over? Gonna retire her, or whatever euphemisms you suits use for killing your own?"
Hessler looked at him. "No, Cash. I'm not. Because I never met her. Or you. In fact, we're not having this conversation."
Cash chuckled. "You damned suits. You never change."
Deejay buzzed in his ear. "Okay. We've identified a back door. It's normally used to transport blood shards for storage in their depots. It's just inside the shield at the location I'm sending you. We can bypass the passcode and trick the system into opening the shield just long enough for us to get inside."
"We're on our way." Cash glanced at Hessler. "We're on."
"Fine. Let's do this."
Chapter 12
"Sir, we may have a problem."
Kirk sighed when Lieutenant Bryant entered the dining room, reluctantly looking up from his dinner of roasted duck, mashed pumpkin, and warm beet salad. "Nobody interrupts you unless you're eating or taking a shit."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Report, Lieutenant."
"Security outpost number three hasn't reported in, sir. Permission to take a team to investigate."
"That's the one disguised as a charging station."
"Yes, sir."
Kirk drummed his fingers across the tabletop, glancing at the timer on his holoband. Two hours left. "HSSC might be trying to breach. Take two squads. Report bask as soon as you find out something."
Bryant saluted and quickly left the room.
Kirk tapped his holoband. "Corporal Singleton."
Singleton's face flashed onscreen. "Sir."
"Has Kilgore reported in?"
"No, sir. Should I look for him?"
"No, Corporal. That will be all."
Kirk pushed away from the table, adrenaline pumping. This might be your only chance. You have to do it. He's going to get you and all your men killed.
He took a wary look around, walking the entire room. Stuck his head out the door, searching both directions. The guards outside snapped salutes.
"Anything you need, sir?"
"Nothing, soldier. Thank you."
"Sir."
Kirk eased back inside. You're acting like a child. A scared little boy looking for the monster in the closet. He looked at his reflection in the window. A phantom with haunted eyes stared back at him. Visible fear. Fear he hadn't felt in dozens of harrowing battles. Fear he hadn't felt even when captured by rebel forces on a planet so far from Earth that it may as well have ceased to exist.
He took a deep breath. Squared his shoulders. And tapping the sequence on his holoband, he made the call.
The massive window morphed into a monitor screen, projecting Director Lynch's profile with perfect clarity. Every wrinkle was carved as if for a purpose, lines mapping a face meant to intimidate and demand subservience. His cold, cybernetic eyes whirred and clicked as they focused on Kirk.
"General. I was wondering when you'd be in touch. Are you preparing your terms of surrender?"
"Has the UH met my demands?"
"Of course they haven't. You've seen their public responses. You're a famed commander fallen from grace, driven mad by PTSD, mentally unhinged. When you're taken out by some heroic sniper or overzealous Nimrod, you'll be mourned as a fallen hero. Used as a warning example of the effects of off-world warfare. But you know this already, don’t you? You had to know before undertaking this impressively foolish endeavor that it would lead to your death and the death of your New Legion. I can't believe you would do this when you could have easily found a hundred easier ways to resolve your quarrels with the UH and OWO peacefully. But you didn't. Why?"