DT 2023: Sinner Street

April 2558
“Hello, traveler! The Mombasa Transit Authority welcomes you to – Hope and Makupa stations – joint terminal. Please watch your step when exiting the train car.”
Daniele didn’t pay much attention to the Superintendent’s masculine machine voice announce his arrival. He knew this was his destination from the detailed Transit Authority map imposed on his visor Heads-Up Display (HUD). Instead, he felt elsewhere: more in tune with tonight’s agenda, the distinct clinks of his armored-titanium boots against the train’s aluminum floor, and against false marble as he stepped off into the joint terminal. He craned his head down to avoid the low door height and compensate for the extra eight-centimeters-height from his helmet.
At 4:23 AM local time, Daniele’s shoes alone touched the station floor. A quick glance down both ends of the terminal’s reception platform featured no lost souls – no drunks or vagabonds – not even at the historic witching hour when only bold and nefarious people still wandered New Mombasa’s low streets.
The train car chimed twice and flashed with a short flurry of yellow warning lights before the Maglev train doors sealed behind Daniele. “Train number seven, leaving Hope and Makupa stations – joint terminal. Next stop, Nairobi Road. City center to Old Mombasa, departing.”
Daniele wandered to the escalators without a sense of urgency but each step with deliberation, weighted with his many sins to come. Even surrounded by the squelching groan of the automated staircase under his half-ton Mjolnir powered assault armor, the Spartan could still distinguish the light hiss of rain on tarmac above him. The water would help minimize potential casualties and witnesses but nothing would stop the many cameras and listening devices dotting every street corner.
Well, to amend the statement, almost nothing. A disembodied female voice whispered into Daniele’s ears as he stepped into the open-air atrium of the joint terminal, “You’re tensing up. Anything I can help with?”
Daniele shook his helmet to the voice, joined by a video call widget containing the face of Cathedral, his cyan-haired Smart AI and partner-in-crime. “No thank you, Cathy. Just start on open-WAN domination.”
Cathedral’s face frowned in concern but continued, “Already on it. The blue bird plague is getting around now; going to be a lot of upset business owners come daylight.”
“And what about the police box? Two blocks from here, right?”
Cathedral nodded along as Daniele crossed left into a narrow alley filled with buzzing power boxes and blue screens of death. “I made sure to overwrite the Superintendent’s visitation schedule. They’re down to a single officer tonight and he got dumped via text by his two-month girlfriend. He’s passed out drunk in front of Kenya Vibe, he won’t be a problem.”
Daniele offered the AI a pointed look. “Your work? Or just lucky?”
“A little bit of both. I found some insecurities to tug on from my analysis.”
Daniele offered a weak chuckle to Cathedral’s shrug. “Mean.”
Cathedral waved away the accusation, “We have a job. Roxanne will handle the one guarding Commander Korn at the Annex black site. We just need to contain Spartan-D070 and get the goods. A few hurt feelings don’t matter in the face of what is coming.”
“Aren’t you concerned I might be compromised?”
“Not really, you’ve got a solid skull up there. But I did ask since you’re still tensing. You hesitating?”
Daniele paused at the question. His part of the operation was starting, but he hadn’t passed the point of no return. Not yet, but he did so much already for the AI. And in mere minutes he would cross the line of betrayal. “You’re doubting me? You should know what’s going through my head.”
“You respond well to challenge,” Cathedral pointed out. “It’s here in your personality assessment, but yeah, I am in your head. I ask for the purpose of socialization. Psychologists swear by it for stress: distractions, easement…”
“I get the idea but you’re running my mouth dry. And Marcellus’s waypoint is right there. Let’s cut the chatter.”
Cathedral’s face vanished without complaint. The AI was a chatterbox, but she was still professional. Considering what Lieutenant Commander Korn revealed to Daniele about her acquisition, the Spartan did feel a little surprise. Plucked from a dying girl’s skull on the outskirts of Brasilia City, Cathedral handled herself like an ONI AI as far as Daniele knew.
Turning a corner, Daniele came face to face with another suit of Mjolnir armor, resting against a shaded wall but well hidden by photo-reflective camo. “Hey Marc, did I keep you waiting?”
Marcellus-D070 shook his head and pushed off the wall where his armor left a faint imprint in the brick of a Russian-speaking establishment. “Not too long, but I did try to reach you. We’ve got a situation. The local grid is acting up, I’m getting junk connections across available terminals. Can’t raise anyone on the MARIAH network.”
Daniele faux-nodded, playing along. “I’m getting the same. Local services are still working but communications and grid functionality seems degraded. You think some Innie spotter saw us coming and got spooked?”
“Well, whoever it is, they’re impressive. My IFF tags are unreliable.”
Daniele quieted his microphone, “Cathy, warm my thrusters.”
A green acknowledgment wink from the AI flickered on Daniele’s visor as a subtle warmth began to shiver along his shoulder blades. Despite the space-grade containment of Mjolnir armor’s micro-fusion reactor, the notion of radiation as invisible, microscopic razor-sharp needles shaving years off his life made him shiver a little. Looking back at Marcellus, Daniele asked, “Got a battle plan? I don’t recall Delta Company ever addressing EW threats other than eliminating infrastructure responsible for it.”
Marcellus thumped his armored shoulder briefly, “Yeah, the curriculum was a little short on that front. I do have an idea. Did you learn how to ping trace with Mjolnir?”
Daniele shook his head, “No, first I’ve heard of it?”
“He’s a smart one,” Cathedral complimented their foe. “I can do something about that. Just say the word.”
Danny said nothing. A wireless transfer request flashed on Daniele’s HUD from Marcellus.
“Try that. The ATS. Artemis Tracking System, automated tactical analysis suite developed by Ohana. You can piggyback mine.”
Accepting the connection, Daniele could help blowing an impressed low whistle. “This thing is almost the size of a dumb AI. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Marcellus nodded, “It’s technically a dumb AI but lighter under the hood without the personality interface. Like having a mission handler’s intel at your fingertips.”
“Daniele, this is a bad idea.” Cathedral muttered in warning.
Her Spartan whispered back, “You worried about the datalink, or this tracking system going to sniff you out?”
“Both!” Cathedral hissed.
“Can you offload yourself into the Mombasa grid and lead us on a false trail?”
“Not without exposing your armor as the source of the domination attack.”
Daniele squinted, “What do we do then?”
Cathedral didn’t get a chance to answer, Marcellus repeated himself to a distracted Daniele. “Hey Danny boy, you alright there?”
Looking up, Daniele shrugged as he played with the augmented reality hologram interface superimposed on his wrist. “Sorry, just getting acquainted with the holo. When did you get access to this thing? My team has nothing like it.”
“Cleaning house for Internal Affairs has its perks,” Marcellus shrugged but spoke with a grin on his lips and words.
“Recommend me after we’re both done with our next tours,” Daniele wistfully asked, pounding his childhood friend’s shoulder.
“Of course, you and I deserve only the best.”
Cathedral whispered in concern, “Daniele. We need to do something or he’s going to start noticing things in the next thirty seconds.”
“Thanks again, Marc. But give me a moment to get acquainted,” Daniele waved his friend off before addressing his AI. “Fine, anything. Don’t blow my cover. Not yet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, but you’re going to have to start shooting.”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you a distraction.”
Daniele squinted. “Korn’s people?”
“Of course not. Local muscle.”
An abrupt whine and screech of turbines throughout the streetway came to a crashing halt. Lamps and interior lights flickered before collapsing into a blackout. Daniele and Marcellus paused in their armor preparations to look up as the entire subdivision was extinguished into darkness.
Dogs started barking in the distance as Daniele looked on, noting the only lights left in the sky were the stars and glow off Mombasa skyscrapers and the mid-repair space elevator two miles away.
“I can’t find any local terminals anymore.” Marcellus announced, playing with his own Artemis system.
“It’s not an EMP, our shields didn’t flash.” Daniele added.
“Hold on, bringing the power back on now.” Cathedral announced, “You will want to raise your battle rifle though. I brought some friends.”
Cathedral flagged part of Daniele’s HUD, pointing a waypoint marker up a sharp tarmac incline. In the darkness, shadows shimmered. Not the telltale sign of active camouflage preceding an alien threat, these shadows were physical and concrete. Light from the towers above didn’t absorb or bend around them. Humanoid shapes, around 1.5 meters in height. Average humans, carrying long and large metal objects. Firearms.
“Marc, contact nine o’clock. Unknown humans.” Daniele called out, raising his BR85 battle rifle and feathering his finger against the trigger.
“I see them, I count fifteen, twenty outlines. Small arms.” Marcellus confirmed.
Daniele tightened his finger slack against the trigger, dialing on an unknown individual with a long tube object raised over his shoulder. “I see a tube,” he warned.
“Two or one?”
“One, maybe a Pilum.”
Cathedral returned, butting in. “Power’s back. Pretty sure I grabbed the Mombasa Liberty Union.”
Turbines and power systems hummed back to life in a massive warble across the subdivision as the area was bathed in light once again. The unknown adversaries up the ramp threw up their arms in surprise, flinching against the sudden blindness and brilliance of their neighborhood.
In the light, Daniele could see them clearly. A Pilum rocket launcher. M79 light machine guns. A jogger frame-clad man wielding a jerry-rigged M274 heavy machine gun.
“Did you have to grab a militia outfitted for anti-Spartan combat?” Daniele growled at Cathedral. He didn’t wait for an answer, he yanked his BR85 trigger. Three shots rang out, the upper torso of the rocket launcher-wielding militiaman vanished in a maroon mist, splattered his allies who dove for nearby walls in a panic.
“They already knew we were coming! I just gave them a tip off to get over here,” Cathedral exclaimed.
Marcellus raised his sixty round MA5B assault rifle, spraying the crowd without needing to acknowledge Daniele’s next move. It was all instinct, after years together at Camp Ambrose – they moved and the rest came naturally. Daniele leaped into action, firing off his thruster pack module to accelerate and close the distance with the militia.
“Careful, I only warmed up three thrusters!” Cathedral warned.
“You can charge it again later, the militia first. We deal with Marcellus after that.”
“Danny, the Jogger Frame! I don’t have a shot!” Marcellus called out as he bounded right, freeing himself from a dumpster as it went up in flames with a napalm grenade.
“I got him,” Daniele confirmed, leaping through the air, his plans to betray his friend set aside for a little bit. His scope dialed in on the head of the armored, heavy machine gunner and let loose with another spray of burning lead.
Category:The Weekly
Category:Short stories