10: Door Knockers

This is chapter ten (Part 2: Exhaustive Search), in which we learn more about Elena's deployment on Forge

If it’s your first time here, check out the Table of Contents. You’ll probably want to start with the Prologue.

10: Door Knockers

Elena was leading Task Force Bravo, “Door Knockers.” Vanguard. Lieutenant Darius Eze was leading Task Force Charlie, “Brainiacs”—field digital specialists. Task Force Charlie wasn’t Vanguard, they were a different elite unit trained in digital warfare. When the deployed military troops started getting brain hacked, they had to react or risk getting decimated. They were well prepared for direct action on the ground but weren’t expecting such vicious attacks in the digital. Task Force Charlie got called in.

Forensics found a signature to the brain hacks, attributed them to an enemy digital specialist they nicknamed Joker. The innovative attack used a small flaw in the deep implants to bypass fail-safes and deliver a fatal electric shock to the brain via a poisoned signal. They had to find Joker fast. Rumor spread that Joker wasn’t really a person, it was an Omega AI. Corporate. But these were just rumors, Omega AIs had a code of ethics, there were laws against direct use of digital force against humans.

The two task forces ignored the rumors and worked in tandem, drafting plans. They would descend on suspected enemy positions, have Door Knockers secure the perimeter, and Brainiacs secure the digital realm. They were going to take Joker down by any means necessary.

Ground operations on Forge were a delicate business. The population consisted almost exclusively of corporate citizens. Several ongoing legal battles were being fought to determine the bounds within which the military could intervene in such situations. Both Titanforge and Abyssal Mining argued that their contracts gave them sole rights over their citizens. Elena thought they weren’t that far from the truth. Mining was a dangerous endeavor, with risks of maiming and death ranging from cave-ins, equipment malfunctions at low depths or too high gravity, to radiation exposure, exotic cancers, and an array of other lifelong illnesses. Struggling with high turnover, unions, and other business-impeding nonsense, the corporate legal departments came up with a novel system inspired by none other than the military. Employees would sign up for a tour of duty, which could be anywhere between a year and a couple of decades, effectively giving up most of their rights to their employer. Guaranteed pay, housing, food, healthcare. Free cancer repair if provably contracted on the job. Generous reenlistment bonuses. Enough people found this acceptable.

To sweeten the deal, mega-corporations had a no-questions-asked policy. Candidates could apply with a criminal record, a fake name, a dark past. One of the advertised perks was legal council to help employees out of their troubles once their tour ended and they resumed their previous lives.

The AI Council argued it was their responsibility to protect the most basic human right to life. The Omega AIs steering Titanforge and Abyssal Mining disagreed. The boards of the two companies, while literally at war, provided a detailed joint breakdown of their employee agreements, arguing it wasn’t their problem and pointing to the fine print in their contracts.

The same way employees couldn’t be prosecuted for past misdeeds while on site, they couldn’t be “rescued” (emphasis on the intentional exaggeration, for the record) from the “evil” (emphasis on the sarcasm, for the record) corporations. The employees volunteered out of regular life to become corporate citizens, and corporate would take care of them (emphasis on the empathic care, for the record).

While the court cases dragged on, Elena’s job was to hunt Joker. They were waiting for intel to pinpoint their target. The wait was torturous. No matter how many defenses they put up in the digital, every once in a while one of them would fall victim to a brain hack, have their frontal lobe fried remotely. Nothing they could do about it. Elena was safe due to her NSRS, but nobody else was. Morale was low. They were already short-staffed, before even putting boots on the ground.

Finally, word arrived. They had a hive, they had a handful of possible locations. Intel guaranteed they would find Joker in one of them, likely with heavy backup. It was go time.

She jumped off her chair as soon as she got word.

“Let’s go get the fucker!”

They were all itching for action. After waiting around and being picked off one by one, they could finally take the fight to the enemy.

Less than an hour later, the Door Knockers and Brainiacs were crammed inside two vertibirds, loaded for bear, dropping two floors per second. Elena could feel blood pulsing in her temples. The tension in the vertibird was palpable. They were very well trained, but this was their first real direct action. Someone made a nervous joke over the racket of the engines. Someone responded with a creaky laugh, trying to sound nonchalant. A bead of sweat traced across her graft, sliding down to plop onto her gun hand. She wondered how many more floors deep they needed to go.

Hives are deep underground complexes, the preferred layout for mining operations. Marginally cheaper to set up than terraforming, way cheaper to operate. Rather than trying to tame a whole planet, you dig a very deep hole. Set up living quarters all around, a few cafeterias, a handful of shops. Big savings on commute too, elevators rather than a sprawling metro system. The mine tunnels branch outwards from the hive, like gnarled roots. And, of course, hexagonal units to optimize in-hive logistics. Units with tiny walkways between them. The center shaft is used to lift up ore and bring down heavy equipment. State of the art engineering.

Sunlight dimmed, then disappeared completely as they dropped deeper into the bowels of the hive. Now it was just artificial lights flashing as they passed each level. And still they kept going. She looked up and around. Everyone seemed to her just as young, inexperienced, and nervous as she was. No amount of sims, regardless of how realistic, prepared them for this. But they all lost friends, they were resolute. And she was their leader. After an endless descent, the vertibirds began to decelerate, then stop.

“Doors need knocking, hooyah!” she yelled while jumping out of the vertibird, hearing her voice crack just a little bit, hating herself for it. Could the others tell? No matter. They all followed. Everyone was nervous before getting on stage. It wasn’t about removing the nerves, it was about performing regardless.

“Hooyah!” they replied with one voice.

Nav overlaid directions on top of her field of vision. The units they were looking for were a ways away from the central shaft of the hive, where the vertibirds came in. The walkways were narrow, ceilings low. She started feeling trapped as soon as she stepped off the bird. The industrial smell of chemicals deep in the hive was repulsive. She comforted herself thinking it was just a sweep operation. In and out. She couldn’t fathom how people would spend years down here. She was already looking forward to getting back on the Ironclad.

They were walking fast, in tactical formations, weapons at low-ready. Civilians scattered to give them room, some retreating inside their units, others running the opposite way.

Left. Right. Left again. Almost there. They didn’t encounter any opposition yet, which was good.

She raised her fist up as they reached the first target. Used hand signals to get everyone into position. She counted down with her fingers: three, two, one. Chief Petty Officer Cooper, “Hammer,” whose nickname had nothing to do with the big hammer he was carrying that day, knocked the first door off its hinges. They streamed in, tacticals lit up, weapons covering every inch of the small room. Nothing in there. First one was a dud. Nobody home, no electronics inside.

“Move out, move out,” she called. They knew they were on the clock. The element of surprise has a very short half-life.

Another quick advance, another round of hand signals, and Cooper blew out a second door. It was her turn to be point on this one. She jumped through the breach first. This time, not a dud. There was someone there. In much less than a second, she turned left, glimpsed chrome, pulled the trigger. Close quarters point went in with the shotgun, standard procedure. The tango’s upper half turned instantly into ribbons of flesh, the wall painted dark red. She saw the very top of his scalp, miraculously still in one piece, falling on top of the carnage.

“Tango down!” she called. She was a machine by this point, executing her training. She did what was drilled into her without hesitation.

She winced at another blast coming from the other side of the room. “Tango down!” she heard Cooper say. Then, “Clear! We’re clear!”

She turned to look around. Hive units were very small, easy to clear. No hiding places. Their whole team couldn’t fit inside a standard one. Two out of the six walls of the unit were now covered in gore, two Eclipse Corps mercenaries, or what was left of them, slumped on the floor. They were both armed.

In the center of the room was a terminal. They must’ve been guarding it.

“Brainiacs, move in!” she called.

Lieutenant Eze stepped in. He was focused on the terminal, didn’t seem to even register the two downed tangos. He embedded, eyes closed, frowning. He was fighting an intense battle in the digital. Maybe with less blood splatter, risking life nevertheless. Another Brainiac stepped in, started picking up equipment for analysis back at the base. The unit was getting crowded. She and Cooper stepped out, making room.

It hit her, as she was walking out through the blown out door, that she’d just shot someone. Her first kill.

“Digital secure,” called Lieutenant Eze.

No Joker here.

“Let’s keep moving,” she called. Another quick nav across walkways, and they were in front of the third unit. They blew out the door on two civilians. Both women, both screaming as Cooper stepped in pointing a shotgun at them.

“Sorry,” he said, lowering the weapon, raising his left hand palm up in conciliatory fashion.

“Fucking intel guys,” cussed Elena. “Let’s keep moving. One more to go.”

This wasn’t looking promising. One out of three, no prize. What were the odds intel got it right on the fourth one?

They moved fast, got into position around the last door, went through. Elena point again. The room was empty, lights off. Nobody home. They looked for any clues that the target evac’d recently but couldn’t find any. Fucking intel guys.

“OK, that’s a wrap,” she called. “Back to the birds.”

They didn’t encounter any resistance on the way back. This was the first drop, before the fighting intensified. They had the element of surprise, and the two corporate factions were too busy killing each other to intercept them. This time around.

All in all it was a good drop. Less action than they expected, and they didn’t come close to hitting Joker, but a victory nevertheless. They took over a node and managed to establish a beachhead in the enemy network thanks to the Brainiacs. They now had a way to hit back in the digital too, just as they did on the ground. The equipment they confiscated would get them a large amount of useful intel and open up opportunities for future actions. But most importantly, they had no casualties.

The teams celebrated loudly that night. The drop was a first for all of them, and it went well. After being powerless for so long, they needed a win badly. They finally got one. A small win, they never got close to Joker, but a win was a win. The mess hall aboard the heavy cruiser Ironclad turned into a party room, the PA system into a boombox. They all had to blow off some steam. After an intense day, once the adrenaline wore off, life felt exquisite. Chief Petty Officer Cooper stayed true to his moniker, they had to carry him to his quarters. Elena joined in on the fun, drank, laughed.

Images of the tango vaporizing at her hand threatened to creep up, but she was determined to not let them ruin the moment. She promised herself to process those feelings later. Carpe diem.

As the night grew long and the party began to taper off, she followed Lieutenant Eze to his quarters. They were both glowing. They had sex. They fucked. It wasn’t lovemaking, nor sleeping together. Not that first time. It was deeply satisfying. It was about life and death that night, not love. It was primal and felt magical and left her sore. It took some time after for her feelings to develop, and by then it was too late.