December 17th, 2267. 09:35 Vosture Prime – John’s Homestead
Elias had paused retelling his side of the story and observed John. He couldn’t get a handle on the man. Outwardly he seemed rather normal. Or at least what appeared normal for a Confederate citizen. Yet he was an admitted murderer.
His brilliance and intelligence were clear as day. It was doubtful that Elias would win any debate against him. The same would apply to any physical altercation, John was substantially more muscular than he was. How could a man be so bright and yet be so callous when it comes to ending a life? Then the first loss of life their team experienced popped back into his mind.
“Initially when the first of my team died, we thought it was a random act of violence,” Elias said.
John grinned before interrupting Elias, “When did you suspect the murder was done by an agent?”
“Far, far too late. Though I’m not sure if we could have gone dark at that point,” Elias said.
“Wouldn’t have mattered, I already knew who all of you were at that point.”
Elias gulped. Had he heard that correctly? Wait, how could anyone have identified the truth of their existence so quickly? Their backstory was practiced and believable.
“Your mistake was entering as a singular group. That and your mannerisms. Your deep cover team wasn’t as good as they thought,” John paused before shrugging, “OK, I guess I was being overly harsh on them. They were good, but rank amateurs when compared to me. Truth be told, Paulus was the one that ultimately led me to your facility. Though it did take over a month after I killed him before I located y’all. When I found your headquarters I observed a rather heated argument.”
“How in the heavens could you have seen that? There was only one building that could even look into…”
“Because I was in that very building. In the shadows, observing, and waiting…”
“Why not just kill us all, right there and then?”
“I was tempted to do just that, but I wasn’t sent here just to eliminate the enemy,” John spoke without a care in the world, “At that point what you were doing wasn’t entirely clear. Obviously, I knew about you corrupting a colonial governor candidate.”
“Your gut said otherwise,” the words stung when Elias spoke.
“That it did. That it most certainly did.”
“Did you at least know his name when you killed him?”
John nodded, “His name was Paulus.”
Elias stared at John. He was resolved at that time to not take John with them. This psychopath, no sociopath, had no business with them. He would play the game a bit longer though and get as much intelligence from him as possible. But when he had his fill, this monster would die by his hands.
“Why kill him?”
“Simple, you are the enemy.”
“I don’t believe that it was just following orders, no soldier does that,” Elias responded indignantly.
“That is a fascinating statement. Did you know that I was given no operational oversight and a carte blanche permission to execute this mission in any way I see fit?”
“I did not,” Elias looked confused, “Explain that to me, what does it mean?”
“I wasn’t operating as a solider, I was sent here as an operative. The things soldiers would be expected to do are vastly different than what I was sent here to do.”
“You are a monster.
John smiled, “I could have killed every man, woman, and child on this planet. There were no conditions, no red lines. Any action I deemed necessary was pre-approved. Now that isn’t to say my leadership would be happy with me going on a murder spree mind you. Despite that, I did want to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.”
“Was there any in this case?” Elias asked curiously.
“Yes. There were, though none that I’d consider were truly innocent. As you were keenly aware the police pinned Paulus’ murder on some random drug user and dealer. He ran off into an abandoned building right next to the murder scene.”
“We were suspicious of the successful capture of the murderer by the police. It ticked all the boxes, but it just felt…”
John then interrupted him, “Somewhat forced? I wasn’t happy with the speed they took to pin the murder on him. I thought it would bring too much suspicion on me.”
“Sadly, those thoughts were buried for too long. I may regret asking this, but as you said you were an open book. How did you identify him?”
“Glad you asked, and yes, I’d be delighted to share,” John said with a smile.
6 Months Ago. June 14th, 2267. 02:35 John’s Homestead
John hated coffee. The smell of roasting coffee was to him disgusting, the taste was so much worse. But he had been up almost thirty-six hours straight, the caffeine was necessary. He lacked a cappuccino machine, which while that also smelled terrible, was at least acceptable to his palette.
“You should rest, you aren’t accomplishing anything positive at this moment,” Eve said over the speakers.
“Thanks, Mom,” John replied sarcastically, “What am I missing? I’ve gone over the immigration records. Nothing about this makes sense.”
John leaned back in his chair. He was well acquainted with Alliance and Mercantilist Intelligence operatives. He knew how they operated, and he knew how their teams were structured and how they behaved. There were no Alliance or Mercantilist teams on this planet.
The Alliance intelligence teams always numbered between four and seven. One agent always observed and never participated. They reported back home, always maintaining a distance from the action team. The remaining agents were part of the action team.
The Mercantilist Union always sent three teams of no more than four agents. One team carried out the mission with a second on standby. They were briefed on the mission but weren’t active participants. They were however near the target range typically. The third team was in effect a sleeper team, who stayed behind often to observe the effects of their mission.
Identifying those teams was of course problematic in most worlds of the Confederacy. Not here. Not on Vosture Prime. Immigrants and visitors rarely exceed three thousand to the world on a daily basis. It wasn’t unsurprising to have a day, or several days, in a row with little to no incoming traffic.
The problem John was struggling with was the arrival records. His own manufactured record on this world was unique amongst the immigrants to Vosture Prime. Families, specifically with children, made up over ninety-eight percent of the immigrants to this world.
“Fuck this noise, I’m gonna take a nap,” John sighed loudly as he set his hands on the desktop and pushed himself up.
Instead of walking upstairs John walked out of the office and stepped into the small bedroom on the main floor. He laid himself down over the covers and quickly fell asleep. It was readily apparent that he was well past the point of being ready for this rest.
John had a great many good qualities, but he had so many more bad qualities. Thankfully they didn’t appear all of the time. But he was far too focused on this task and was suffering from tunnel vision. A break was not only needed but long overdue.
Seven hours later he rolled over and rubbed his eyes. The sun shone brightly into the room and onto his face. A loud yawn and some stretching followed before he rolled himself out of bed.
As he walked out into the hallway and toward the kitchen he blurted out, “Eve, take a look at the larger groups that arrived. Collate and list any that appeared in the last twelve months. Separate those into two groups, with and without children.”
Eve responded immediately, “I will have the data prepared for you by the time you return to the office.”
John sauntered over to the fridge, opened it, and pulled out several ingredients. After they were set on the countertop next to the stove, he grabbed a couple of pans and ignited the burners. Moments later several slices of bacon were in the biggest pan while the smaller pan was having scrambled eggs poured over the bubbling butter within.
John slid the mass of cooked eggs onto his plate, and sprinkled chives, green onions, and cheese on top. He was more careful with the bacon, if only because he didn’t want to clean up a mess of bacon grease later. His method of dealing with the bacon grease was to walk outside and pour it all over the lump of charcoal in the grill. Obviously, this creates a problem for future John to deal with.
Eve spoke when he stepped into the office, “There were several groups of ten or more people. Displaying the matching results now.”
He picked up a piece of bacon and was eating it as he scrolled down the list, “Highlight the April entries.”
Four groups of people appeared before him. Three of them John ignored immediately. They were groups of two to four families with a ratio of nearly three children per adult. The likelihood of an intelligence operation occurring with children was remote. Ironically, John did make a note that perhaps they ought to think about having proper families as cover.
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No, the group of twenty religious immigrants caught his eye. Their appearance was, for lack of a better term, weird. Par for the course, John thought as he looked at their images. This group simply stood out, but not in a good way. There was something not right about them.
“How detailed were customs notes on their luggage?”
“Pulling that up now,” Eve said.
John then reviewed their manifest. They came with more credits than is normally expected for immigrants, but not an exceptionally high amount. It was within expectations for those escaping from a religious cult. Looking at the notes three of the male members were formerly higher-ranking members which the customs agents presumed gave them the ability to acquire more credits.
“They pooled their money together as they left the cult,” John read to himself out loud, “Eve, show me the location of where they are staying. Overlay where the former agents went in the colony.”
The screen then displayed the deceased agents’ movements. They had been in the district where these so-called immigrants settled. But that was before they had settled there. The agent based on the station’s last recorded location wasn’t far away from that location though.
“It’s them. Eve, is there any way to pull the colonial camera and traffic records without anyone knowing?”
“Yes, but it will take substantially longer to acquire the data through unofficial and unmonitored channels. To the order of a week or more,” Eve responded, “For brief snippets. Full days’ worth of data will be virtually impossible to pull at this time.”
“Trickle the data in, ideally pull the oldest information from the time they took ownership of that property,” John said as he stood up, “Find a back door into the vehicle registration system. I’m going to need a vehicle that doesn’t trip any sensors.”
“I will look into that.”
John stood up and left the office. He was headed to the bunker to acquire gear for his reconnaissance emission. If he was wrong, then he’d waste a day or two observing the religious nutjobs from the Alliance. But the potential for confirming his gut feeling was hard to ignore. If these were the enemy, then he needed to know who they were and what precisely they were here for.
06:55 Colonial City – Border Sector
John had been a busy boy that morning. He dropped off his truck at the general store on the other side of the colony. He, well more precisely Eve, made short work of the security lockout system of a motorcycle that was parked in a lot of a business behind the store.
Eve also made short work of eliminating the general tracking systems. She was quite insistent on warning him of the consequences if he got pulled over by a colonial cop with the tracking systems in the state they were in. That’s also ignoring the whole grand theft-auto he committed. Another argument arose between the VI and him when he broke the digital plate.
Her concerns were well warranted, but it seems the fourteen patrol cars he drove by either ignored him or couldn’t be bothered to do anything about him. John headed straight toward the address he had on file. When he got to it, he was surprised at the dilapidated structure.
“Well shit, this isn’t it,” John said as he set the kickstand and stepped off the bike, “What a pile of shit this building is…”
Every single window was broken. The benches in the waiting area were covered in trash and debris. John sighed as he reached into his leather jacket and pulled out a pistol with his right hand. His left was digging in a pocket and pulled out a suppressor.
John stepped into the building quietly as he screwed the suppressor onto the thread of the barrel. With his newly suppressed pistol held in his right hand, his eyes darted around the room. He could hear mumbled voices; they were oddly pitched though. At least those that he could make out were.
Slowly and quietly John crept down the dark hallway. He paused and pushed himself against a closed door as he heard footsteps. His heartbeat sped up slightly as a conflict appeared to be close at hand. He had a literal license to kill.
The footsteps got closer and closer. Then they stopped for a moment. A figure hopped out into the hallway and shouted.
“This is…” the child said before his eyes nearly bulged and their attitude began to change.
“Jesus fucking Christ kid,” John said as he pushed his visor up, “Fucking hell, I could’ve killed you, you fucking dumbass.”
“I don’t have any money!” the kid said with closed eyes as he looked to be in a sustained full-body flinch.
Just then three more kids came running down the hallway. Two had rocks in their hands and the lead one a rusty piece of iron. The cavalry had arrived.
“Don’t hurt Davie!” yelled the smallest one.
“We’ll beat you up, this is our home!” the other one with the rock said.
“Get away from him!” yelled the lead boy.
“Oh, for fucks sake, if I wanted him dead I’d have shot him already!” John hollered, “Why are you playing here and not at home?”
The question seemingly disarmed the kids. His openly shoving the suppressed pistol inside his coat helped diffuse the situation as well. The children stopped advancing toward him. Davie then relaxed and opened his eyes.
“I’m still alive!” he exclaimed with great glee.
“Yeah, no shit dumbass. I’m not going to kill kids,” John responded sarcastically.
Another voice shouted out from down the hallway, “This is our home in the summer. The academy is out for the next two months.”
“You all are orphans?” John asked.
Davie nodded, “I am, some of the rest of us have pretty neglectful parents so we all escape here.”
John reached into one of his pockets slowly pulled out a data slate and handed it to Davie, “Look at those faces, you ever see any of them?”
Davie quickly skimmed through the images, but he shook his head. The three amigos sauntered over to their pal and looked as well. From their reaction, those four hadn’t seen them, which effectively confirmed his suspicions.
“Davie bring that to the others and let them take a look,” the girlish voice said walking out of the shadows, “What will we get…”
John tossed a credit chit at the young girl, “I’ll make sure you’re clothed and fed this summer. And I’ll make sure that going forward you won’t worry about where you’ll sleep or eat in the future between school terms.”
Davie and his pals ran away into parts unknown. The girl picked up the chit and scanned it. She began shaking at seeing that much money. It was because of this that she didn’t seem to notice John moving towards her. He took a knee in front of her.
“What’s your name?”
“Deborah.”
“Deborah, you look like you are the oldest amongst your fellow children of neglect and unseen are you not?”
She nodded.
“Use that money for food and clothes only. How many kids are here?”
“Fifteen. In seven weeks, the academy opens up and we go back to staying there,” the girl paused and looked straight into his eyes, “You aren’t with the colony, are you?”
“I guess you could say that I work above the colony normally,” John was going to continue speaking when Davie and another boy were running back yelling loudly.
“Nathan’s seen this guy!” Davie proclaimed loudly.
Nathan tucked himself behind Davie. The data slate was handed back to John. He looked at the image.
“Paulus…” John said to himself, “What a dumb fucking name that is.”
That comment made Nathan giggle and come out of his shell, “He hangs out in this neighborhood a lot. Every now and then he starts to walk and talk funny.”
“Different language?” John asked.
The boy shook his head, “No, just talks funny. Not like you or everyone here.”
John nodded as he thought, “When was the last time you saw him?”
“This morning. He was walking on Billings Avenue down by the abandoned apartments.”
The girl’s eyes bulged, “Why the hell did you go there? I told you that area is dangerous.”
“I was hungry. I know the mill there still has food in some of its machines there,” Nathan said.
John smiled, “Keep that data slate. I can transmit data to it. You can send me messages if you connect your colonial com devices to it.”
“We were told we shouldn’t sync them with unapproved electronic devices,” Davie said.
John stood up to his full height, “I need some extra eyes on the ground. If you see any of them, make note of where you are and message me with that,” John paused and pointed at that credit chit the girl held tightly, “I’ll pay quite well for legitimate leads. Don’t follow them either though, I don’t need any of you getting captured and hurt by these assholes.”
Davie and Nathan both nodded and saluted John. The girl looked up at John and was not as convinced about the offer. She then spoke up.
“If I try to pay for anything with this chit, they will just reject me or accuse me of stealing it.”
John nodded, “Margie’s has several general stores throughout the capital. Go there to buy your food and clothing. You won’t run into problems paying there.”
“There’s a big Margie’s on the other side of the factory on sixteenth,” Davie said.
“What are you going to do to these people?” the girl asked.
John pulled out his pistol and unscrewed the suppressor in front of them, “Sometimes it’s better for children to be children and not be aware of what adults are doing.”
“Uh oh,” Davie said.
John turned and began leaving the building. Davie and Deborah understood that something was about to go down. The younger ones the presumption of violence was not an outcome they could imagine. Deborah was grateful for the strange man’s support though, but she wondered about the potential dangers of working with the man.
3 Days Later. June 17th, 2267. 09:55 6120 Billings Avenue
Three days of stalking his prey. Three days of missing his target. John was getting tired of driving into the city and making his way into this shithole. Not to mention sitting next to trash piles on the sidewalks.
To make matters worse, he still didn’t have his enemies’ location yet. Getting access to the camera systems was proving exceedingly difficult. Even for the advanced VI that Eve was, she couldn’t find a way to tap into the network without alerting anyone, or at least alerting the enemy that she was within the system too.
The children had turned into a boon though. They had sent confirmations of seeing six individuals. But they haven’t been able to locate their place of operation either.
John was in a positively foul mood. The plascrete was warm. His ass hurt. The stealth suit, even deactivated, was causing him to sweat profusely in the hot and humid weather. Worse of all the poncho and his surroundings smelled like moist ass. Which was ironic in a sense because his ass most definitely smelled of that in his suit.
Then, perhaps God had answered his prayers or random dumb luck fell into his lap. As John looked up from the poncho and down the street there was Paulus. No one was around either. John rolled over in a slovenly way and looked at the other side of the street. No one was coming.
He unsheathed a knife with his right hand under the poncho. This murder was going to be an intimate affair. If done right, his enemy wouldn’t know what happened to him until it was too late. His exit from the crime scene would be relatively easy too. An abandoned apartment building was to his right. He could dart in there, toss his clothes, and activate his stealth suit before exiting the area.
Paulus walked closer and closer as the seconds ticked by. He was oblivious to the danger he was walking towards. John observed the man closely. His mannerisms were much more like his, but there was something distinctly different about him. Paulus was moving unnaturally, it looked like the citizens of this colony, but his movements looked forced to John’s trained eye.
None of that mattered though, Paulus continued to walk closer. Thirty seconds later he was fifteen feet away. Paulus looked at John, then immediately looked away from him quickly. As if he were disgusted by John’s lot in life, but in that moment, he leaped into action.
He hopped to his feet and grabbed Paulus’ right shoulder. John then pulled back quickly with his left arm and violently stabbed Paulus. The blade bounced off his ribcage and dove up and knicked his heart. The poor bastard was caught completely unaware and had no reaction.
John ripped the blade out of his back spun Paulus around and quickly kneed Paulus in the gut before stabbing him again, this time the blade pierced through a rib and slashed his hard grievously. Paulus stumbled backward onto the building and clutched his chest. He looked down at his bloody hands before looking back up at John.
“Why?” Paulus said meekly.
No answer was given. A single shot was fired from John’s Sig Sauer 510 pistol. The ten-millimeter round struck Paulus between the eyes: blood, bits of skull, and brain matter splattered against the yellow building. Paulus slid down the building and leaned into the trash. John holstered his pistol and ran into the building behind him.
Cameras would no doubt have captured the murder. That of course was the hope, in fact, he needed some images or video of the crime to be captured for his plan to work. But how many and what cameras had seen it was an open question. This part of the colony was notorious for its safety systems being dysfunctional on the best of days.
The poncho was quickly pulled off of him and tossed into a corner in the abandoned and rundown apartment building. John then ran up to the second floor and ran down a long hallway. Twenty feet before he got to the end his mask was pulled over and the suit itself was activated.
The suit’s holographic stealth systems crackled and caused John to vanish from sight as leaped through the broken window and onto an apartment’s balcony. From there he hopped over the railing and landed deftly back on the ground floor. He was heading to the abandoned building where he hid his bike. It was several blocks away, but the day’s mission was considered a success.