1145

​

Ringing rifle report. Squawks, frantic flapping wings in the canopies.

 

“Ah!” Skorpion exclaimed. “That’s M14!” Her arms folded behind her head. 

 

Two rifle reports.

 

“That’s Snow!”

 

False finger slackened its grip on the trigger. Picked up the radio, pressed its button. “Command to Team Snow. I heard rifle shots.”

 

Two seconds of silence. “Team Snow to Command, i-it’s nothing! False alarm!” The call ended abruptly.

 

“She’s lying. They’re hunting deer,” Skorpion speculated. “M14 must’ve missed her shot, and Snow covered for her.”

 

“You are making things up.” Makarov disputed. Her arms were taut; she had drawn her pistol and aimed it towards the direction of the shots. “They know better than to engage in recreational activities during an op. We must have missed some stragglers.”

 

Tapped on the command tablet. The darkened screen winked on, displaying the area’s topography. No red blips close to Snow’s and M14’s positions, two hundred metres northeast. 

 

They were alone, without dummies. 

 

“Why are they separated from the rest of their echelon? Where are their dummies?” Makarov, peering from behind the false arm, inquired. She sounded confused.

 

“They were hunting deer! Why would they bring their dummies? Bet you ten rubles. They are cutting up the deer right now.” Skorpion grinned at Makarov. Makarov frowned and folded her arms. 

 

“You’re bluffing. Twenty rubles.” 

 

The yellow doll’s grin turned into a confident smirk. “Bet!” 

“Kommandir!” Makarov spun around and barked. “Your orders!” Her tone conveyed her eagerness to investigate the scene and prove her peer wrong.

​

Inhaled. Counted to three. Sigh exhaled. Pulled the buttstock to the shoulder. “We will investigate.”

 

“Commander.” David, his rifle raised over MDR’s shoulder, also aimed towards the direction of the shot, intoned his caution, “I think MDR should send a drone to scout ahead. Make sure the area is clear.”

 

“Or catch SVD and M14 in a tryst.” MDR sounded enthusiastic. She wore the same impish grin as MP41’s. “What scandalous things are they hiding from us? Whatever it is, that’s got to be worth a thousand likes on Grifchan!”

 

“We are not using a drone!” Makarov scowled. “Tovarisch SVD is eagle-eyed enough to notice it! We will lose the element of surprise!” 

​

“Tch!” MDR’s expression soured immediately. David glanced at her and rapped his knuckles against her beret. “Ouch!”

 

Retrieved two BLTs and handed the backpack to MDR. “Take this to the waystation and distribute the brunch to 416 and the rest of Team Snow there. Do not enter the compound until we rejoin you.”

 

“Are we departing yet?” Makarov’s tone was impatient. She had glanced at Skorpion, whose machine pistols remained holstered. She was eager to prove Skorpion’s assumption wrong.

 

“...Yes.”

 

“Then get behind us.” The handgunner stepped off the dirt trail.

 

Cut through the woods, passing by fallen Jaegers and Vespids. Nature’s loamy odour mingled with a seeping metallic stench. Sporadic bird calls grew ever more sparse while the iron blood stench intensified. Caws in the canopies, black feathers fluttered downward like falling ash. 

 

“Hurry up!” Snow half-whispered hoarsely ahead. “If we take too long, Kommandir will send someone to find us.”

 

“But I can’t!” M14’s hushed voice cracked as though on the verge of tears.

 

Makarov frowned, holstered her gun, and lengthened her strides. Twigs snapped under her reckless stomps. 

 

Snow stared at Makarov wide-eyed. “Der’mo!” she muttered under her breath. Her hands were clasped around M14’s, pointing a knife at the deer’s belly. The pale markswoman grew paler still. M14 lowered her gaze and started shaking.

 

Makarov sucked in her frowning lips. She inhaled deeply, her torso swelled, and her woolly hair expanded. Hearing Skorpion’s snickering, she folded her arms and glared at her. 

​

​

​

1210

​

Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. Numbness in the true arm. Clenched. Unclenched. False eyes upon M14’s forehead; they still caught glimpses of her yellow eyes.

 

The markswoman lowered her head, hiding her yellow gaze beneath her bangs. “Understood, Commander,” she said. “Just don’t take too long.” She directed her gaze towards the deceased deer. “It’s looking at us. It’s going to curse us and haunt us tonight.” 

 

She let out a sudden yelp; Snow had slapped her shoulder. “Yerunda, M14! What’s dead is dead and cannot bother us anymore.” She hit her shoulder several more times while laughing heartily. “You are a big girl! You shouldn’t be believing in ghosts at your age!”

​

“We’re pretty sure we’re just children in human years!” M14 turned her gaze towards the pale sniper to protest. Some colour had returned to her cheeks; Snow’s provocation had dispelled the mortified mood. “How can you feel nothing at all? You looked into its eyes when you shot at it! Look!” She gestured at the carcass. “It’s looking at us right now!”

 

“Of course, it looked at us; it’s got keen ears. Besides, you missed!” 

 

M14, blushing furiously, pouted. “I missed because it was looking at us through the scope!” 

 

Skorpion smirked at Makarov again as she elbowed her ribs. 

 

“Come on, Tovarisch.” Snow still grinned cockily. “Don’t be mad. Here!” She removed a hip flask from her thigh pouch and shoved it into M14’s left hand. The black-haired markswoman stared at the bottle in disbelief. “If you feel like the deer’s staring at you again, take a swig. You will start thinking of something else after a few mouthfuls.” The pale sniper gave her a thumbs up. “I guarantee it!”

​

M14 blinked. She blushed again as she exclaimed, her taut arms stretched towards the ground. “Th-that’s-! You-!”

 

Snow had already gone before she could find her words.

 

Sigh exhaled. “Hold your ground. We will return for you and the deer.” Tightened the grip on the rifle sling, turned towards the waystation. Dried twigs crunched under the boots. Snow’s fur-lined shoulder cape fluttered as she led the way.

 

Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. Banished the phantasm from the mind. Yellow eyes, yet no steel-tinted mist. Sunlight streamed from the cracks between canopies like incandescent curtains. Once-silent birds sang again. Snapping of branches, rapid gallops heading towards the east. Snow had snapped her rifle towards its direction. She caught herself and lowered it again. 

 

Lifted the radio, pressed its button. “Command to Hawk. Copy.” 

 

The device crackled Lev’s reply. “Aye, Fox. I’m here.”

 

“We have a deer carcass for retrieval.”

 

“A deer? How…oh…That Snow…” He chuckled. “I’ll prepare a tarp. Coordinates?”

 

“That would not be necessary. M14 is guarding it. We will retrieve it on the way down to the fork.”

 

“Copy. The truck will be waiting. However, are you sure about this? M14’s squeamish when it comes to hunting.”

 

“She’ll be fine!” Skorpion interjected aloud; she had snuck up on me while I was distracted. “She’s scaring away ravens right now!”

 

“There you go with your assumptions again,” Makarov scowled; she had slowed her pace to match Skorpion’s. “How can you possibly….” 

 

Rifle report rang from where M14 waited, followed by terrified squawks ascending towards the treetops. Makarov slowly closed her mouth and frowned.

 

“She went and did it.” Skorpion shook her head. “She could have kept swinging her rifle at them.” 

 

“And how would you know she was swinging….” Makarov stopped. Her cheeks paled, then flared up into a crimson flush. Her exclamation came like a sudden gunshot in the dark, “You tricked me! You knew all along! You are her team leader! You have Zenner connection to her!” 

 

Skorpion’s grin widened, stretched ear to ear. “I didn’t trick you, I misled you!” 

 

Makarov’s nostrils flared. “You dirty cheat! I’m not paying you the twenty rubles!”

 

“There they go again,” Lev remarked over the radio. “Again, the truck will be waiting. Better settle that dispute before it gets out of hand.”

 

The radio fell silent. Sigh exhaled. “You gave Skorpion your word, Makarov.”

 

“Yea, Macky. You gave your word. Pay up!” 

 

The blue doll ground her teeth. Her cheeks flushed, her hair expanded with fury. “I can’t believe the both of you! I’ll remember this!” 

 

She stomped away, while Skorpion stuck her tongue out at her.

 

Sigh exhaled. The true palm tapped her head. “That was mean of you. Do not repeat this.” 

 

The yellow doll tucked her tongue behind her teeth. “Yea, yea.” She folded her arms behind her head and started whistling. She was unrepentant. 

 

“Kommandir.” Snow had slowed and matched her pace with ours. “That’s Kuznetsov, isn’t it?” 

​

“Yes.”

 

“I see.” She looked ahead, towards the distance. 

 

Skorpion had sped up, closing towards the fuming Makarov with skipping steps.

 

“So he got them good, huh?” Snow started after a moment of silence. “Hunter, I mean. I could hear the explosion from the waystation.” Her slight smile lacked its usual cocksureness. 

 

“The IEDs didn’t neutralise Hunter outright.”

 

“I see.” Her smile faded, then reignited again, though it was colder than previous. “Papasha messed up, I see.”

 

“They worked as intended, but we underestimated Hunter’s durability. Yet, they did incapacitate her, robbed her of her combat effectiveness.”

 

“And Svet must have ended her!” the pale sniper concluded. “That must be it.” She nodded. “Way to go, my junior.”

 

“...It was Mosin Nagant.”

Snow lagged behind. Looked over the shoulder. She had stopped, wearing a pale, mortified visage. She blinked, then swiftly caught up. “I can’t believe this! Babushka Mosin fired the kill-shot? What was Svet doing?” she began to rant. “First, two of the shells missed, and now she failed to deliver the killing blow to Hunter? I taught her better than this!”

​

“She was out of position, helping Lev with gunnery.”

 

“Then I expect Kuznetsov to give her a tongue lashing for the shells missing their targets! I would have done it myself!”

 

“...He absolved her of any fault and was kind to her.”

 

Snow slowed down, then sped up again. “What did he say to her?” she inquired demandingly.

 

“Tovarisch Kuznetsov told her there’s nothing wrong with her calculations and blamed the misses on an undetermined fault in Alyona or the shells.” Makarov had slowed down to listen in. Her expression was impassive; her cheeks, once flushed, had taken their usual pale hue. Yet, there was a glint of interest in her ruby eyes. 

​

“...His assessment of the situation is correct.”

 

“...Oh.” Snow looked ahead again. “I see…” She beamed. “That’s nice of him. Maybe I should treat him to drinks this evening.”

 

“He had also placed his finger where SV-98’s lips would have been if she was seated any closer to him.”

 

Sudden silence. Snow had halted in her tracks. Bird-chirps absent. Even Skorpion had stopped swinging her legs and turned to stare. Her silver eyes glowed with malevolence. “Charmed my junior, did he?” she muttered as she picked up her pace. “Merzavets. I will wring his ears when I get back.” She sped past us, her shoulders tensed.

​

Skorpion glided towards Makarov. “Macky. You said too much,” she criticised. 

 

“Nyet, Tovarisch Skorpion,” Makarov replied dismissively as she followed the sniper. “I said just enough.”

 

Arid, dusty scent intruded the nostrils, overlapping with the loamy odour of forest earth. Verdant greenery transitioned into grey concrete; golden sunlit curtains flared into radiant summer blaze.

 

“You took too long, Kommandir!” Sudaev cried, brandishing one hand while holding a BLT with another. She then pointed towards the door into the waystation. Beside it slumped David and MDR, facing 416.

 

“Tovarisch Keller and Tovarisch MDR were plotting to hack into the Sangvis servers while you were still gone!”

​

Skorpion passed her by, waving at the group by the door as she pitter-pattered towards them. “Hey, Sarge! Sorry, we took so long!” The silver-haired doll regarded the mono-eyed doll briefly, then turned her lime-green gaze towards the false eyes. “Commander,” she greeted. She then nudged her rifle-barrel at three rotorless drones piled up behind her. “Alles ist klar.” 

​

These were Scarecrow’s drones.

 

“You shot them all?” Skorpion sounded impressed. However, 416 did not honour her with a reply. 

 

“Seen Scarecrow?”

 

She shook her head. “Nein.” 

​

“Now that the Commander’s here,” David started, “Can we get started already?” 

 

MDR, sitting beside him, fiddled with her flip phone. She did not share in his enthusiasm.

 

416 glared at the both of them, then returned her attention to the false eyes. Her eyes softened, yet her expression remained impassive. 

 

“Let us not waste any more time.”

 

“Finally,” David exhaled as he got up, simultaneously fishing MDR’s phone off her grasp. “H-hey!” she cried as she rose after her device. “I was just about to save my draft!” The aux guard ducked the phone under the doll’s reaching grasp, clasped it shut and tucked it into his thigh pocket. Seeing her endeavour fail, she grumbled impotently at her handler. 

 

Walked through the threshold, greeted by a scorched stench. Coal-like powders by the feet, charred craters scythed across the walls, right and behind. Looked left. False eyes perceived empty ports pulsing eerie red, their shapes matching the shattered drones outside.

 

Shrapnel-scars. The port-bearing device by the left-side wall was most pock-marked and shredded by them, with some of the steel fragments were still embedded in its chassis. Bullet craters behind that device and the one directly ahead, tucked away behind the door frame. 

 

Anti-personnel grenades would have dealt the most damage to the drone mount on the right side of the walkway, not the one on the left. A wooden handle by the false foot; Sudaev’s fragmentation grenade. 

 

Query directed at 416, “Were you aware of the drones’ presence before you breached?” She nodded in affirmation. “Ja. They are all defended the same way.”

​

“I see. Sudaev.” 

 

The pink-braided doll perked up. 

 

Showed her the true fist. “Good work with the grenade.”

 

She blinked, then cocked her head.

 

“Tap his fist with your own, Sudaev,” said Skorpion. “Ura!” She raised her fist encouragingly. Sudaev blinked again, stared at the fist and balled up her left hand. “URA!” she cried. The true arm shook, the knuckles ached. 

 

“Oi!” Skorpion reprimanded. Raised the false hand, signalled her to stop. She fell silent.

 

Shook the ache from the hand, adjusted the rifle-sling, proceeded further into the waystation.

 

Another pried-open door. Blinking lights within, pulsing in the backdrop of dim red glow. Obsidian blocks similar to the ones in the manor’s cellar in Subsector Two; Sangvis servers.

 

David laid down his backpack and peeled back its flap. He then retrieved his laptop while gesturing at MDR to squat beside him. Frowning, she laid her rifle beside her feet as she did as instructed. 

 

“MDR can plug herself directly to the server,” he started as he retrieved and unwound a thick cable. “However, It’s generally not a good idea to do so. Especially when she is still a novice. Servers and computers these days are loaded with ICE.”

 

“ICE?” 

 

“Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics.” David plugged the cable into the right side of his laptop. “You know, firewalls, antiviruses, programs and protocols meant to keep people out of the system.” He plugged another cable into the left-side port. “Just imagine your Kasperskys, Nortons, Mcafees and AVGs way back in the day, except they have their own rudimentary AI and can initiate counter-hacking operations.” 

 

“FNC’s security system, which had denied you control over her dummy after a few seconds…is that ICE?”

 

Skorpion snickered softly. David frowned and sighed. “I rather you don’t remind me of that. Yes, that’s ICE.” He handed the cable to MDR, who had lifted her hair and unplugged the drone controller from her exoskeleton. “Basic ICE. All it does is boot the intruding script-kiddie out after a second, at most, and purge basic malware before it can do any lasting damage. More advanced ICE will go further. Backtrace your connection….”

 

“...cuts right through your shitty seven-proxy setup and flatlines ya,” MDR interjected as she plugged the cable into her exo’s port. “Scrambles your neural cloud, jellifies your digimind, melts your core. Bricked and junked!”

 

Skorpion paled, aghast. “That’s dangerous!” she cried in alarm. “Are you sure you will be okay?”

 

“Donmai, donmai! I’ll be just oki-dokey.” MDR grinned as she made an okay gesture. “If anything happens, the ICE will fry Hackagod’s laptop. It’s what this setup’s for.”

 

“Doesn’t mean you can be careless,” chided David harshly. “I spent a lot of time customising this rig, you know. If anything happens to it, you are paying for the replacement out of your own pocket.” 

 

“H-hey!” MDR exclaimed as she lay against the server. “Don’t touch my savings! I have things to buy!”

 

“Then be doubly careful!” David made one loud, final keystroke, like a period at the end of a sentence. “Alright, MDR, dive at one times acceleration. Do you still remember what to do?”

 

“Let’s see.” She raised her hand and started counting down her fingers. “Once I get in, I will be greeted by a ‘login’ window. It’s going to follow me around, but I must ignore it. Instead, I will go around the wall, scan it, find any weaknesses....” 

 

“Like an exposed or weakly encrypted port or a vulnerability or a loophole.” The aux guard turned his gaze to his lit-up monitor. He tapped on its touchpad and made several keystrokes. “I’ve pulled up the terminal and will scout with you. Reconnaissance only…” he glanced at the e-war doll. “Okay?”

 

“Oke!” MDR said as she plugged the cable into the exoskeleton port attached to her nape. “See you on the other side.” Her chirp trailed away as she slumped against the server.

 

“MDR? Are you in?” David spoke into his headset. “Can you see the ‘login’ window?” 

 

“Lessee…yep! It’s right there, following me around like a creepy stalker again. Shoo!”

 

“Don’t touch it.”

 

“I’m not!” 

 

“You better not!” the aux guard exhaled. “So far, so good. Begin reconnaissance.” 

 

“Oke dokey. Bringing up the scanner…Woah, what the heck? Hackagod! Are you seeing this?”

 

David’s fingers froze over his laptop; his breathing seemed to have stopped. He lifted his curled fingers to his mouth and furrowed his brow.

 

The screen’s window showed a mesh of crisscrossing scarlet wires behind a flickering transparent wall.

 

“...What the heck?” David murmured. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Alright, MDR, stay where you are and run a deep scan.”

 

“Hackagod? You meant to say you’ve never seen anything like this before?”

 

“I have seen tripwires before, but this is the first time I’ve seen it being deployed this densely. It’s like a secondary firewall.” He made several more taps. “Run a deep scan. I’ll see if I can figure something out….”

 

The screen went dark. David blinked, his fingers frozen over his keyboard. 

 

“Hackagod?” MDR spoke, sounding nervous. “David? Hello?”

 

“Screen just went blank,” David muttered. “Trying to regain visuals….” He paused, his fingers froze again. 

 

A single yellow block blinking on the top left corner of the blackened screen. Once…thrice…block drifted right, yellow pixel text followed after its wake.

 

STOP.

 

The room fell silent. Skorpion pursed her lips and blinked. Sudaev, curious of the sudden stillness, craned her neck, hoping to see the monitor from her perch by the corridor. 

 

“What the…” David’s jaw fell slack. “How did this….”

 

“What’s going on?” Skorpion inquired with a whisper.

 

Blinking yellow block skipped two lines and drifted leftwards. More texts emerged.

 

FURTHER PROGRESS WILL TRIGGER THE SERVER’S PURGE PROTOCOL.

 

“MDR!” The auxiliary guard barked. “The hacker’s returned!”

 

“What??” MDR cried her reply. “I thought your laptop’s not networked! Standard procedure! You said it’s standard procedure for wired hacking!”

 

“I know that!” A flurry of keystrokes on the keyboard, yet the screen remained as it had. “He’s not hacking my laptop through my network adaptor; he’s doing it through your Zenner router!”

 

“...What?!”

​

I’M DROPPING YOU THE SERVER’S MANUAL.

​

“MDR! Scan for anomalous data traffic in your router now! Pinpoint the open port he’s using for intrusion!”

 

READ-THROUGH. EXECUTE DRIVE EJECTION PROCEDURE PER INSTRUCTION. 

 

“Found it!”

 

“Ten times acceleration! Trace that hacker!” David’s fingers a blur across the keyboard; he was desperate to regain control over his laptop.

 

EXTRACT AND DELIVER ALL STORAGE DRIVES TO THE WHITE VAN AT WAYPOINT OMEGA.

 

The breathing stopped; the lungs seized up. 

​

“I’ve reached th-…no…this is just a proxy server!”

 

Sharp exhale. “David, how close are you to finding this hacker?”

 

“I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “MDR! Can you see how many proxies…”

 

“I’m at the fifth proxy! Maybe seven by the time you hear me!”

 

PAYMENT WILL BE REMITTED TO COMPANY ACCOUNT UPON GOOD RECEIPT CONFIRMATION.

 

The screen lit up, yet it did not return to how it used to be; an opened document in place of the terminal window. 

 

“OWW!” 

 

The heart skipped.

 

“MDR?!” David shouted panically, his typing stopped. “What happened?”

 

“I’m fine. Owowow Ow! I just got yanked back and…Where am I? Is this…this is my network router! I just got booted back to my network router! Dammit! I was so close to catching the perp! I almost had him!”

 

David sighed. “Okay…” He ran his trembling hand over his hair, frustrated and in disbelief. 

 

True hand trembled. Sweat drenched the brow. Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. Repeat. Rummaged through the pocket, retrieved the orange case. Unplugged the ampoule’s tip, jabbed it into the forearm. Numbness spread. The pulse slowed. Regular breaths. Sigh exhaled.

 

Skorpion looked wide-eyed over David’s shoulder. Sudaev gripped her weapon tightly. Only 416 seemed nonplussed. 

 

“Take five minutes, then we’ll get back to hacking the server,” David, having calmed down, instructed.

 

The jaw creaked. “Rescind that order and withdraw MDR. We must reassess the situation.”

 

​

​

​

1415

​

Waypoint Omega. 

 

Callsign assigned to the Sangvis Ferri Security motor pool during the Novum Sambir incursion. Location, northwestern corner of the designated AO. Uttered only once during Sop II’s extraction.

 

Only once, during Team 416, Team FAL, Team SVD and Team M4’s entrapment in the Telecoms Building. 

 

Where we lost FMG-9 to the hidden Jaegers, erroneously assumed neutralised. Where Ingram was mortally wounded.

 

Where she lost her prized scars.

 

Sigh exhaled. The bitter, grainy tea was lukewarm.

 

Waypoint designations were assigned during the planning stage of the op; they were never encoded into this Tactical Map. They were labelled on a paper map utilised for the pre-op briefing. Only the relevant ones were uttered there, the ones marking the path towards the Telecom Building from the LZ.

 

Waypoint Omega was not one of the uttered callsigns. 

 

Either the hacker eavesdropped on our transmissions during the operation, or he had intruded our archives and read the relevant combat reports.

 

Yet why make the effort? Why mention this specific callsign when conveying his instructions when he could have just said ‘the Sangvis Ferri Security motor pool’? This display of ability, along with the daemon attached to the contract email…Perhaps he meant to….

 

“He’s mocking us?!”

 

MDR’s expression of slighted disbelief was drenched in ghostly azure. She had looked away from her phone to gape at David. His brow furrowed deep; he glanced at her and nodded slowly in reply. He pinched his nose’s bridge and added, “Hate to say it, but yes. All of that was just malware. He never needed to maintain connection the entire time. Not to mention the proxies’ factory-standard port encryptions.”

 

“He’s looking down on me!” The doll tore out her nape cables and slumped against the azure-drenched canvas. “This sucks!” She emitted a discontented growl. “I’m going to vent on Grifchan!” She swung her head forward, took on a hunched posture and resumed tapping on her phone.

 

“That’s an opsec violation!” Makarov scolded suddenly. 

 

“After I filter out all the specifics, it’s not!” MDR retorted, her fingers tapping furiously, her eyes still glued to her screen.

 

“Even the vaguest hints are enough for diligent spies to piece together the larger picture, MDR.”

 

“Moreover, the posts contain metadata which can be traced back to the exact time and coordinate. That’s useful information for any hacker,” said David. “Metadata, GLONASS data, video surveillance data, chatter, rumours and hearsay from other primary, secondary and tertiary sources, any hacker can put them together and figure out exactly what your post is alluding to, even without any of the details.”

 

“Thus, I forbid you from posting anything pertaining to today’s events to this ‘Grifchan’.” 

 

Her fingers stopped; she glanced at the false eyes, then at David, before returning to her phone. Her flushed cheeks puffed as she tapped a single button rapidly. 

 

“I’ll make sure everything’s scrubbed.” David stared at her for a moment, exhaled sharply, then spoke, “Intruder’s going to be worse, you know. Can you take the lessons and exercises more seriously already?”

 

Her fingers paused. “Well, we aren’t taking the lessons or running the exercises right now, right?” she replied; her fingers resumed clicking. 

​

David sighed again. “You better be taking them seriously once we return to base.” 

 

Makarov slapped away Skorpion’s hand, which hovered over her keyboard. “Would you like more tea?” she offered. She waited, frowned and returned to her laptop; she had received no response. 

 

Again, Skorpion reached for the keyboard. Again, without looking away from the screen, Makarov swatted her hand.  

 

“Hey, Fox,” the radio sounded. “We are arriving at the motor pool.”

 

A line of blinking blue clusters gradually closed towards Waypoint Omega. Picked up the radio and replied, “I see. Command to Hawk. Prepare to stop the convoy.”

 

Skorpion drew back her hands suddenly; Makarov had slammed her laptop’s lid shut. MDR stopped clicking on her phone, put it down, then plugged her drone controller into her nape port. David increased the tempo of his typing.

 

The truck lurched back and forth, and the boots stamped cracked asphalt. Rifle slung over the shoulder, false hand clutched the knapsack, filled to the brim with the requested hard drives. 

 

Arid wind carried the rotors’ faint buzzes. Deuce and her dummies were tense; their machine guns pointed at the white van parked conspicuously by the entrance into the deserted garage. 

 

“Hummingbird to Command,” David spoke through the radio. “Nothing on the drone visuals. Not even a glitch.”

 

Cleared to proceed.

 

Makarov cut in front briskly, Skorpion close behind her, their weapons drawn. Springfield and M14, in their respective trucks, scanned the motor pool roofs for any traces of concealed snipers. Crunches on the cracked asphalt. Bent rusted pole gate, guard post vacant. Derelict BTRs and LAVs, stripped of armour and wheels, laid useless and abandoned behind raised shuttles.

 

White van, dirty and scratched with cracked tail-lights, out of place in this drab backdrop. Makarov and Skorpion circled around, peeked through windows and windshield, and then flanked the back door. 

 

Pulled the charging handle, took up position behind Skorpion, tapped on her shoulder. The dolls swung the double-door open, took aim, and shone their light. It was empty.

 

Knapsack stashed within, door slammed shut. Returned to the convoy. Micro-drones hovered overhead, still vigilant, watchful for the hacker’s return.

 

David’s keyboard still clacked incessantly as the boots scraped against the bed’s grainy surface. Beside him, MDR clicked away on her phone. “Never mind her playing around with her phone,” he informed, ignoring her brief scowl. “She’s still surveilling the area.” 

 

“Is she?” Makarov voiced her doubts as she returned to her seat. She refilled the emptied teacups. “Her reputation for procrastination is well known in HQ.”

 

“I can multitask!” MDR retorted. “In fact, I can describe what I’m seeing through the drones right now!” 

 

“Or I can show whatʼs on my screen instead,” David offered. 

 

“See? Even Hackagod’s backing me up!” 

 

Makarov rolled her eyes as she slid cups of fresh tea towards the hackers’ side of the Tactical Map. 

 

“Anyway,” David continued, “I have rerouted our connection to the micro-drones through the UAV. We will have eyes on the motor pool even from our base.” He sighed, then added, “There’s a risk the hacker will intercept the transmission, but hopefully, by having the micro-drones hover at a high enough altitude, he might not notice their presence.” He glanced at MDR. “You did set the micro-drones to hover at one hundred metres over the motor pool, right?”

 

MDR, her eyes still glued to her phone, flashed him an ‘okayʼ sign. He, in turn, narrowed his eyes at her, sighed, and then returned to his laptop.

 

Picked up the radio, spoke into it. “Command to Hawk, we are done here.” 

 

Makarov shot Skorpion a glare as she placed her hands on her laptop. She lifted its lid as the truck rumbled to life. 

 

The trip back to the base camp was uneasily silent, safe for Skorpion’s continuous attempts at inflating the numbers written in Makarov’s draft.