his partner. “Wynhod, you need to go in and close the situation.” He glanced over at the still weeping Matara Noma and sighed. “Get the Nobek alive if you can, both for his mother’s sake and because he might be a witness to the Delir gang’s activities. However, the hostages’ lives are your priority.”
Wynhod nodded. “Understood.” He addressed the squad, now under his authority. “The situation is believed to be at the front of the home. We will use the maintenance access to enter through the rear. We’re using plasma rifles.”
That got a few looks of gratitude. Plasma rifles required the men to be better shots than percussion blasters, a challenge Nobeks appreciated. However, Wynhod ordered them because their use meant less chance of killing the hostages.
He continued. “I will go in first, recon the situation, and you will follow under my direction. Suit up and try to keep your weapons out of the Matara’s sight as you go in.”
As the enforcers went to their shuttle to get additional armor and the rifles, Wynhod went to the waiting snipers. Keeping his voice low so Noma wouldn’t hear, he told the squad, “You’re needed to keep watch over the exits. You’ve got a visual I.D. on the suspect? Good. If he manages to get past us, shoot to kill. I won’t have a Delir-crazed Nobek with a blaster running loose among the population.”
The snipers dispersed to cover all avenues out of the complex. Wynhod turned to see Gelan coming out of their shuttle with Wynhod’s helmet and plasma rifle in his hand. The Nobek put his headset com on and took the rest of his gear from his partner.
He told Gelan, “I’ll report in as soon as we’re in position to enter. I’ll also leave my com open for you to monitor.”
The Dramok nodded. “Good luck.”
The enforcer squad got geared up and ready. With a nod, Wynhod led them to the maintenance service entrance, where the complex’s supervisor waited to let them in.
The supervisor, a Dramok old enough to be one of Wynhod’s great-great-grandparents, ushered them into the service entrance. “Come in and I’ll go over the access route to Clan Moli’s home unit.”
The room he brought the enforcers into was well-lit, a kind of office/storage area. The room was an efficient space, all of its metal furnishings gleaming in the illumination of the lit paneled walls and ceiling. Even the smooth rock flooring had an almost metallic sheen.
A damp scent tinged the otherwise clean-smelling air. No doubt humidity controls were in place to keep the cave system dry, but much like the earthy smell of mountain complexes, the aroma of the natural surroundings could never be completely mitigated.
All sorts of maintenance tools lined the shelves that took up half the room. Turning his back on that part of the space, the maintenance supervisor led them over to a long desk. On either side of it, work countertops stretched along the wall. A variety of components and machines, in various stages of repair, littered the work surfaces. As for the desk itself, it had a computer, which the supervisor commanded, “Show maintenance corridors plan, large view.”
A vid the length of the desk sprang into being, illustrating a simplified blueprint schematic. The supervisor pointed out a large square space on the readout. “Here’s where we’re standing now. You’re going to use this main corridor to get to that unit’s systems room.” He ran his finger along the narrow passage that apparently started from the third door on Wynhod’s right. “Clan Moli’s utility and power room is right here. Number 26-C-8. Straightforward. You can’t miss it.”
Wynhod asked, “And there’s access to the home itself from that point?”
“Right. Code to trigger access to 26-C-8, authorization Sneri. That’s my access.” The access number flashed over the blueprint, and Wynhod quickly memorized
Wynhod nodded. “Understood.” He addressed the squad, now under his authority. “The situation is believed to be at the front of the home. We will use the maintenance access to enter through the rear. We’re using plasma rifles.”
That got a few looks of gratitude. Plasma rifles required the men to be better shots than percussion blasters, a challenge Nobeks appreciated. However, Wynhod ordered them because their use meant less chance of killing the hostages.
He continued. “I will go in first, recon the situation, and you will follow under my direction. Suit up and try to keep your weapons out of the Matara’s sight as you go in.”
As the enforcers went to their shuttle to get additional armor and the rifles, Wynhod went to the waiting snipers. Keeping his voice low so Noma wouldn’t hear, he told the squad, “You’re needed to keep watch over the exits. You’ve got a visual I.D. on the suspect? Good. If he manages to get past us, shoot to kill. I won’t have a Delir-crazed Nobek with a blaster running loose among the population.”
The snipers dispersed to cover all avenues out of the complex. Wynhod turned to see Gelan coming out of their shuttle with Wynhod’s helmet and plasma rifle in his hand. The Nobek put his headset com on and took the rest of his gear from his partner.
He told Gelan, “I’ll report in as soon as we’re in position to enter. I’ll also leave my com open for you to monitor.”
The Dramok nodded. “Good luck.”
The enforcer squad got geared up and ready. With a nod, Wynhod led them to the maintenance service entrance, where the complex’s supervisor waited to let them in.
The supervisor, a Dramok old enough to be one of Wynhod’s great-great-grandparents, ushered them into the service entrance. “Come in and I’ll go over the access route to Clan Moli’s home unit.”
The room he brought the enforcers into was well-lit, a kind of office/storage area. The room was an efficient space, all of its metal furnishings gleaming in the illumination of the lit paneled walls and ceiling. Even the smooth rock flooring had an almost metallic sheen.
A damp scent tinged the otherwise clean-smelling air. No doubt humidity controls were in place to keep the cave system dry, but much like the earthy smell of mountain complexes, the aroma of the natural surroundings could never be completely mitigated.
All sorts of maintenance tools lined the shelves that took up half the room. Turning his back on that part of the space, the maintenance supervisor led them over to a long desk. On either side of it, work countertops stretched along the wall. A variety of components and machines, in various stages of repair, littered the work surfaces. As for the desk itself, it had a computer, which the supervisor commanded, “Show maintenance corridors plan, large view.”
A vid the length of the desk sprang into being, illustrating a simplified blueprint schematic. The supervisor pointed out a large square space on the readout. “Here’s where we’re standing now. You’re going to use this main corridor to get to that unit’s systems room.” He ran his finger along the narrow passage that apparently started from the third door on Wynhod’s right. “Clan Moli’s utility and power room is right here. Number 26-C-8. Straightforward. You can’t miss it.”
Wynhod asked, “And there’s access to the home itself from that point?”
“Right. Code to trigger access to 26-C-8, authorization Sneri. That’s my access.” The access number flashed over the blueprint, and Wynhod quickly memorized
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