Chapter 47: Infiltration
"Remember the mission," Maine urged over the comms. "We're not here for revenge against the Wraiths. We're here for the eight hundred K eddies!"
He continued, "So, if Rhys can ghost in, grab the cargo, and get out clean, that's delta. But if things go sideways... we prepare for a breach."
"Lucy, you got a headcount yet?"
"Can't confirm yet. Give me a minute," Lucy replied, unplugging the cable from her wrist and jacking into a portable deck. She closed her eyes, diving into cyberspace.
Every netrunner builds their own virtual world, their personal corner of the Net. Different styles for different deckheads. Kiwi's cold, steel cityscape; Sasha's cute, glitchy cat fantasyland.
In Lucy's cyberspace, data flowed like a river, forming a virtual, rainbow bridge across a void. She stood on the bridge, nude in her avatar form, swiping a hand through the air. Streams of data followed her gesture, flowing past her eyes. She scanned the torrent, searching for the intel she needed. After a moment, she reached out. A string of data coalesced into a large, red virtual button. She slammed her hand down on it.
"I'm in the camera feeds. Rhys's vicinity... twelve hostiles within a few dozen meters. Let me get a wider sweep."
"Priority is locating the cargo. Rhys, hold position. See if Lucy can pinpoint it," Maine instructed.
"Copy," Rhys replied, staying hidden behind the wall, waiting.
Infiltration required careful prep, especially without prior intel. Every blind entry was a massive gamble. But Lucy didn't keep him waiting long.
"Based on camera placement, the cargo is likely in one of three locations," she reported moments later. "First, west side, second floor, third room from the left—that's the security monitoring room. Second, Pilar's wrecked car in the underground garage. Third, an office on the third floor, deepest room, no camera coverage."
"But just so we're clear, I can't guarantee this intel is 100% accurate," Lucy added quickly.
"Good, that's enough," Maine acknowledged. It was better than going in completely blind. "Rhys, you got that?"
"Copy."
...
Crouching low, holding his breath, Rhys leaped silently, fingers finding purchase on a protrusion nearly three meters up the factory wall. He traversed horizontally, reaching the ventilation window.
He carefully pushed aside the rusty fan blades and peered inside, quickly assessing the layout based on the intel. The abandoned factory was huge, hundreds of square meters, three stories plus the underground garage. His first thought was the garage, but getting there... looked tough. He'd have to bypass a dozen Wraiths, and the confined space, likely used for storage, would be crawling with cameras.
Okay, scratch the garage. The Wraiths knew what was in the container; they wouldn't just leave it in the wrecked car. Besides, this wasn't a game with predictable patrol paths and vision cones. In reality, the slightest noise could trigger an alert. He needed a plan.
After a moment, he decided. His enhanced physique gave him speed few could track, and his reflexes allowed him to react before being spotted. Maybe... circle around to the main entrance? Other routes seemed riskier. The main gate only had two guards, standing close together by the four-meter wide entrance, leaving over a meter of space on either side. Plenty of room to maneuver.
He dropped silently from the window ledge. Rhys: "Lucy, disable the cameras covering the main entrance up to the second-floor monitoring room. Can you do it?"
Lucy: "Affirmative. Working on it now."
No hesitation. Rhys melted into the shadows, hugging the factory wall, avoiding the pools of light cast by flickering lamps. He became a fleeting shadow, reaching the edge of the main gate.
He went prone, waiting. Seconds later, the old-style camera mounted above the gate swiveled upwards, its lens now pointed uselessly at the ceiling. Rhys locked onto one of the guards who turned away, fumbling with a synth-drug inhaler. In that instant, Rhys surged forward, a silent blur crossing the threshold.
"Fuck, wind's picking up," one guard muttered behind him.
"When isn't it windy out here? Forget that dust storm last week already?" the other replied.
"How could I forget? That storm's the reason those idiots stumbled onto our turf."
"That thing is worth a fortune. Fuck, I don't get what those corpo psychos are thinking, paying so much for a dead animal. Shit, I could work my whole life and not be worth as much as that carcass."
The voices faded behind him as Rhys slipped inside, quickly finding cover behind some large machinery. The stairs to the second floor... One Wraith stood near the entrance, smoking. Two more were talking further up.
Rhys narrowed his eyes. He secured his katana tighter on his back and moved silently towards the lone Wraith by the stairs. Lucy's intel showed the guards were spread out. And from what he could see, they were complacent. Makes sense. This was the Badlands, deep in Wraith territory. Who would be crazy enough to attack them here? They were usually the ones doing the attacking.
Exploiting their carelessness, Rhys closed the distance, stopping three meters behind the smoking Wraith. His muscles tensed, legs coiling like springs. He launched himself forward.
"Huh?"
The Wraith heard the faint whisper of movement in the cavernous factory and started to turn, cigarette still dangling from his lips. But a hand clamped over his mouth, and a powerful arm locked around his throat, cutting off his air. He saw a face—baseball cap pulled low, eyes cold and impassive. The lips moved, forming a silent word.
"One..."
Gurgle—
Rhys caught the body before it fell, gently lowering it behind a large piece of derelict machinery. He looked up towards the second floor.