One of the clues in Ruby Monday’s treasure hunt led to a group of ravers and an illegal rave out in the desert. An Haqqislam team clashed with Druze mercenaries over the information those ravers carried and emerged victorious.
Ilya felt lost. He was sitting on one of the many boom boxes scattered around the site, but the music was off, the lights were out, and dawn was creeping up the sky. Most of the ravers had fled and been replaced by medics and technicians, who were were tending to the wounded and broken. One of the techs had deactivated the antipersonnel mine that had been sitting malevolently close to Ilya for the last couple hours. He was grateful for that, but it also meant that Kleio was gone now. She had melted into the crowd of soldiers and professionals without so much as a goodbye, leaving Ilya alone, unsure what to do and where to go.
A tall man approached him. He was clad in army fatigues, sported a neatly trimmed black beard and had long hair pulled back into a knot at the back of his head. He didn’t show any insignia, but carried an unmistakable aura of authority.
“You are good, son?” He looked Ilya up and down and seemed satisfied that the Sāchā wasn’t hurt.
“Yes, sir, I’m fine. Who are you? What happened here?” Ilya couldn’t contain his curiosity.
“I am the commander of this task force. We’re here to track Ruby Monday and make sure that whatever she may have uncovered doesn’t fall into criminal hands and causes no harm to Shinju and the Human Sphere.” He paused and observed Ilya’s expression for a moment, who felt skeptical but tried not to show it.
“You are a Sāchā, right?” He continued. “You know your way around the ruins?”
Ilya nodded.
“Would you like a job? We need someone local, as we follow the trail that Ruby left behind.” Ilya’s Geist picked up details of an employment offer: Off the record, but well paid, good medical benefits, Cube insurance.
“I don’t know… ” Ilya looked around, scanning for any sign of Kleio.
The man smiled. “The operative you met earlier is with us as well. You’ll meet her again soon enough.”
The woman Ilya knew as Kleio hurried along the outer fringes of the xeno-ruins, which rose like a dark mass against the setting sun. It was still unnaturally hot, even for a Shinju desert day and storm clouds were gathering on the horizon. The data collected from the Kazureibu had pointed to several targets for further investigation, and the commander – non other than the legendary Salah ad-Din – had send her with a small detachment to this abandoned xeno-archaeological site. The The Druze mercenaries were not far behind.
Her task had been the same as at the rave: infiltrate the position, disrupt the enemy’s lines, eliminate any immediate threats. But what had been easy among a thumping crowd of ravers had proven impossible out here in the desert. The mercenaries were a tight-knit group and knew each other well. Despite donning a Brawler’s combat armor and flashing the appropriate IDs, she had been challenged. Knowing her short-term disguise wouldn’t hold up to a close visual inspection, she had no choice but to abort the infiltration. Kleio’s mood was accordingly foul.
She checked her tactical overlay. The rest of the team was already in position, a Zeybek aerial hovering close to the ground to provide air support when needed. The lieutenant, a cool Hafza professional, was already holo-masked, to avoid becoming a target for crazy Yuan Yuan paratroopers looking for an easy command kill. Kleio didn’t envy any of the team members who looked even vaguely like they were in charge.
She was going to be late to the engagement and that rankled her. Where was that inexperienced Sāchā they had picked up at the rave? He wasn’t showing up on her map readout. “Amal,” she pinged the Ghulam, who was pulling double duty as their quartermaster, switching to a private channel. “Where’s the kiddo?”
“The new guy? Ilya?” Amal answered promptly. He’d be hunkered down in a rearward position, likely praying he wouldn’t have to perform his primary role – serving as bait for anyone trying to decapitate the team’s command structure. “He’s been here before and gone forward into the ruins. Don’t worry, I gave him something to defend himself with. We had a spare HMG lying around. “
“You gave him WHAT!?” Kleio didn’t really know why, but a cold knot of worry formed in her gut. She quickened her pace to get to the site of impending battle.
Ilya peered into the inky darkness ahead of him. The weapon he had been given – a big, ugly automatic gun – was heavy on his shoulder. The sun was low, dipping behind the cyclopean walls of the alien ruins, which seemed to swallow the remaining light and render the interior darker than it had any right to be. Leftover equipment from the original archaeological dig lay scattered around – abandoned, forgotten, or perhaps waiting for a time, when other, more promising sites had been picked clean.
Suddenly a light, a small, blinking light back in the shadow of a half-collapsed building caught his eye. Ilya could see it clearly, and his curiosity was instantly piqued. He half-listened to the tactical chatter on the secure comm channel. The team’s sniper, a mercenary named Knauf, calmly warned of a enemy shooter to their right and shots rang out above Ilya’s head. “Enemy still in position, expect fire from 2 o’clock.” The words had the ring of professional frustration.
There was a large gap in the wall to Ilya’s right, opening out to the desert beyond. Was that 2 o’clock? He quickly dashed across the opening and saw movement on one of the rooftops from the corner of his eye. Phew, no shots fired. Safe for now.
The blinking light was on an inexplicably active console, that should have been decommissioned weeks, if not months ago. As Ilya got close, a familiar face appeared on the dust-coated screen. Ruby Monday smiled her enigmatic smile at him, and a prerecorded message began to play.
Ilya smiled. This was what he was good at, unraveling puzzles and finding hidden treasure. As he connected to the console, wary of any traps or hidden surprises, he quickly noticed an encrypted and obfuscated data stream within Ruby’s message.
As he tinkered with it, the quantronic puzzle box resolved itself into a 3d representation of the xeno site, with a marker pointing to the southwestern corner.
“I got something!” Excitedly, Ilya pushed the layout into the team’s data feed. For a moment he thought he heard the soft chuckle of Ruby Monday on the feed. Or behind him? He turned around, but the shadows were empty.
What now? He looked around, but nothing apart from the still-blinking console seemed of interest. There were orders in the comm channel about finding a safe spot and taking full cover, but Ilya was excited now, adrenaline pumping through his body. He was proving himself a real asset to this team! They had given him a powerful gun, he should probably be using it. Awkwardly, Ilya unlimbered the deadly weapon from his shoulder and hefted it in his hands. The ammunition counter read as full.
Recalling the the breach in the wall and the movement on the rooftop, Ilya carefully inched along the wall until he neared the opening.
“Careful, kid.” The steady voice of Knauf came over the comms channel. “The sniper is still scanning that lane.”
“I can take him,” Ilya answered, forcing as much bravado into his voice as he could muster. He swung the gun around into the opening, squeezed the trigger and sprayed the rooftop on the other side until the magazine spun empty will a metallic click.
“You got him, kid. Visual confirmation, tagret down.” Was there admiration in the voice? Or just disbelief? “Don’t do that again, you got lucky.”
“On your nine! TAG incoming!” Another voice cut in. Was that Kleio?
Ilya saw something move just beyond the outer ruin wall, something huge, but sleek, humanoid in shap, but much bigger.
“Get outta there!”
Ilya frantically fumbled with the heavy machine gun, his mind gone blank as he tried to remember how to reload. He dropped it and reached for his self-defense gun, a basic flash-pulse stunner, but suddenly the world around him exploded.
A hail of bullets from the TAG’s main gun ripped through the air, shattering the xeno-material of the ruins. Shrapnel was in the air like hail. Ilya desperately scrambled back into the darkness of the interior, but then something hit him hard, knocking him to the ground. He tasted blood. The darkness of the ruin got darker yet, the lights dimmed to nothingness and Ilya slipped into the soft embrace of oblivion.
Contine with Part 3: Lack of Intelligence