Earth’s navy fleet. But at ten times the size. The attention to detail was complete, as it featured a periscope at the top of the vessel, and twin screws at its rear. Jaxon chuckled as he maneuvered his ship around and past the cruiser until it was situated between him and the chasing vessels.
Jaxon promptly reentered his destination into the navigation computer, and his revised ETA was 113 minutes. Accepting the delay instead of the remote possibility of being captured, he engaged the autopilot once again and leaned back for a short nap.
9
Eight years ago — Operation Bohemian Rapture, above Luna City.
Objective: Assassinate Kamil Marsalek and his elite entourage.
Timeframe: Immediate.
Threat level: Moderate.
Operatives: Saber, Gillette.
Method: Improvised.
“Robins Nest, to Saber. Do you read?” blasted in my ear. I accessed my environmental suit’s controls and lowered the volume.
“I copy. Go ahead?” I said, puzzled by the break in radio silence. I looked across the shaft at Gillette quizzically. He shrugged in wonder as well.
“Checking your status. Mother would like the flock to know that the bird is in flight. I repeat the bird is in flight. Over.”
I held two fingers up toward Gillette, then gave the thumbs-up. He nodded and returned the signal, indicating he was on schedule as well.
“This is Saber, over. Could you repeat? Did you say the bird is in flight? Have an ETA?” I asked, maintaining focus on my job at hand. I had already placed three charges along the support rail and had one more to go. Timing was crucial, and if the scenario was to be believable, everything needed to proceed as planned.
“This is Robins Nest, over. ETA: twenty-three minutes. Do you copy?”
Gillette nodded his head as he placed his last explosive charge on the far side of the elevator shaft.
“Copy that. We’ll be cutting it close, but should be done in fourteen. Over.”
I slid the last detonator into the explosive putty and strung the wire to the relay. I dialed up three minutes and checked my suit display for synchronization. Everything checked out.
I unlatched my safety tether and gently pushed off toward Gillette. As I floated through the airless environment, I pivoted and latched on next to him. Switching off my comms, I motioned for Gillette to do the same. He nodded.
“Timer set,” I said, annunciating my words clearly so that Gillette could read my lips.
“Same here. We’re actually going through with this?” he asked.
I nodded and unlatched from the safety hook. I slipped the tungsten carbine around the cable at the center of the elevator shaft and pushed off in the direction of Luna City. As I glided down, I turned on my comm’s channel and spoke: “This is Saber, over.” I waited.
“Ravens Nest here, go ahead.”
“Yeah, we’re having … can’t continue … trouble setting timer … abort, over,” I said, purposefully abbreviating my speech as I continued my descent toward the city.
“Saber, repeat. Your transmission is breaking up,” said Capt. Evans from his orbiting transport ship on the far side of the moon.
Evans received static in return.
“Director? It’s Evans,” he said into his secondary microphone. “It appears we have a problem.”
“Go ahead. What’s going on?” the director asked.
“I was in communication with Gillette and Saber up until about a minute ago when we lost their signal. The last clear transmission indicated they were on schedule, and—”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
“Their last communication was scrambled and fragmented, and Jaxon’s last word was abort. I’m not sure if it was a question or a comment,” Evans said. “What should we do?”
The director gave no response and Evans re-keyed the microphone. “Director? Did you copy that last—”
“I did,” the director said from behind Evans. “Precisely, what did the message say?”
Evans replayed the last transmission from Jaxon.
Jaxon promptly reentered his destination into the navigation computer, and his revised ETA was 113 minutes. Accepting the delay instead of the remote possibility of being captured, he engaged the autopilot once again and leaned back for a short nap.
9
Eight years ago — Operation Bohemian Rapture, above Luna City.
Objective: Assassinate Kamil Marsalek and his elite entourage.
Timeframe: Immediate.
Threat level: Moderate.
Operatives: Saber, Gillette.
Method: Improvised.
“Robins Nest, to Saber. Do you read?” blasted in my ear. I accessed my environmental suit’s controls and lowered the volume.
“I copy. Go ahead?” I said, puzzled by the break in radio silence. I looked across the shaft at Gillette quizzically. He shrugged in wonder as well.
“Checking your status. Mother would like the flock to know that the bird is in flight. I repeat the bird is in flight. Over.”
I held two fingers up toward Gillette, then gave the thumbs-up. He nodded and returned the signal, indicating he was on schedule as well.
“This is Saber, over. Could you repeat? Did you say the bird is in flight? Have an ETA?” I asked, maintaining focus on my job at hand. I had already placed three charges along the support rail and had one more to go. Timing was crucial, and if the scenario was to be believable, everything needed to proceed as planned.
“This is Robins Nest, over. ETA: twenty-three minutes. Do you copy?”
Gillette nodded his head as he placed his last explosive charge on the far side of the elevator shaft.
“Copy that. We’ll be cutting it close, but should be done in fourteen. Over.”
I slid the last detonator into the explosive putty and strung the wire to the relay. I dialed up three minutes and checked my suit display for synchronization. Everything checked out.
I unlatched my safety tether and gently pushed off toward Gillette. As I floated through the airless environment, I pivoted and latched on next to him. Switching off my comms, I motioned for Gillette to do the same. He nodded.
“Timer set,” I said, annunciating my words clearly so that Gillette could read my lips.
“Same here. We’re actually going through with this?” he asked.
I nodded and unlatched from the safety hook. I slipped the tungsten carbine around the cable at the center of the elevator shaft and pushed off in the direction of Luna City. As I glided down, I turned on my comm’s channel and spoke: “This is Saber, over.” I waited.
“Ravens Nest here, go ahead.”
“Yeah, we’re having … can’t continue … trouble setting timer … abort, over,” I said, purposefully abbreviating my speech as I continued my descent toward the city.
“Saber, repeat. Your transmission is breaking up,” said Capt. Evans from his orbiting transport ship on the far side of the moon.
Evans received static in return.
“Director? It’s Evans,” he said into his secondary microphone. “It appears we have a problem.”
“Go ahead. What’s going on?” the director asked.
“I was in communication with Gillette and Saber up until about a minute ago when we lost their signal. The last clear transmission indicated they were on schedule, and—”
“Then, what’s the problem?”
“Their last communication was scrambled and fragmented, and Jaxon’s last word was abort. I’m not sure if it was a question or a comment,” Evans said. “What should we do?”
The director gave no response and Evans re-keyed the microphone. “Director? Did you copy that last—”
“I did,” the director said from behind Evans. “Precisely, what did the message say?”
Evans replayed the last transmission from Jaxon.
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