BtH35

==Chapter 35 - By the Horns==
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Shraplen Imports Warehouse #23B
Samantha City, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
November 9th, 3025
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Major Julius Riese examined the photographs taken by the Maskirovka agents and he frowned. “This is where they keeping the Core?” he demanded.
“It makes some sense, Major,” another of the Death Commandoes said with a shrug. “According to the briefing the University of Taurus is home to one of the most modern main-frame computers in existence—if they have to brute-force decrypt the Core, this is the place to do it.”
“Yes,” added one of the Mask agents—a man known to the Capellan covert operations troopers as Agent V. “Security on the grounds was dramatically increased immediately after that warship came into orbit—which matches up well with the Taurians bringing the Core planet-side. It may appear to be lightly defended, but look here and here,” he said pointing to other visual images. “Not only has the TDF provided 24/7 guard details from one of their best-trained and drilled infantry units to the actual facility itself, they reactivated these two old bases—Fort Snowden houses an entire Taurian hover armor battalion with a company of VTOLs, and all of their vehicles carry a maniple of infantry . . . ten troopers. Fifty-four tanks, eighteen VTOLs, and seven hundred twenty infantry just two kilometers away. Fort Gaines to the South houses an entire battalion of BattleMechs—the third battalion of their Taurian Velites, with forty-eight BattleMechs and eight Aerospace Fighters. It’s twice as far away, but . . .,” the agent’s voice trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders.
Riese nodded. Four kilometers was nothing to ‘Mechs—they could be on top of the facility in minutes at the most . . . and they would be.
He tapped the photographs again. “Getting in isn’t a problem, people—it’s grabbing the Core and getting out. The campus and this facility are outside of the city proper, so blending in with the crowds isn’t going to work. And with their external security perimeter of ‘Mechs and armor, we aren’t crowding in a van and speeding away to safety. The moment we take out the guards, their alarms will sound—and that leaves us just a minute, maybe less, to find the Core, grab it, deactivate their booby-traps,” Riese snorted, “and don’t think that the damn Taurians won’t have them on the device—they will. And make our exit. I hope one of you sees something I’ve missed—because right now, I don’t have a clue how the hell we can get in.”
“Grabbing the Core is good, boss, but the Chancellor himself said we could destroy it if we can’t move it.”
“Suicide team?” asked Riese. “You volunteering?”
“If I need to, Sir,” the commando answered. “I’ll carry the warhead myself if necessary.”
“Good—that is mission one, gentlemen. Now, that damned WarShip.”
“All civilian traffic to Station Three has been curtailed,” answered V. “Only personnel approved by the highest levels of government are allowed access—and only aboard TDF shuttles and buses. A full company of SASF has been embarked on both the station and WarShip—and ALL transport on a vector towards the station is escorted and visually inspected.” V shook his head. “They are even inspecting waste dumps on a vector that approaches Station Three.”
“Taking that ship was always going to be one feat too many,” Riese mused. “I believe that means we need to get our second special weapon up there in order to destroy her.”
“Good luck with that,” V said sourly. “Every cargo pod is searched—every single one. All searches are conducted by rotating teams of three that are randomly chosen each day to prevent a single team from being . . . influenced by people like us. Not to mention, all flights to and from the station originate in the heart of the military space-port—where none of us have access.”
“Actually, we do,” Riese said with a grim smile. “Our late, unlamented friend had friends of his own—some of whom are quick peeved at the sudden fatal turn their leader took. We will have access.”
“Not for long,” cautioned V. “And even if you can get that weapon aboard, there is a second check at the station itself—or aboard ship. It will be found.”
“As long as the shuttle docks with that WarShip, it’s close enough—I’ll need a volunteer to be triggerman on that detail as well,” he told his commandos . . . and all of them stepped forward.
He smiled again. “And after that, we pack up and go home.”
“The Taurians aren’t dumb, Major,” V warned. “They will run a full analysis of the bomb debris and when they find it came from Capellan weapon plants? I don’t want to be here on Taurus when that happens—and I don’t even look Capellan. Using sunshine-in-a-can on the Taurians doesn’t strike me as all that healthy a decision.”
Riese snorted. “We are using Davion fissile material, Agent V—not our own. Got our hands on enough for two warheads a few years back; so when the Taurians run their analysis . . . well . . .,” Riese shrugged.
“It will be their enemies of old striking at them—very nice,” finished V. Then he shook his head. “IDs and cash in the bag along with the safe houses you requested. Make sure you have everything you need, gentlemen, because after today you will never see me again.”
“You heard the man—I want a full check on everything before we move to a more secure location,” barked Riese. “And then we start on planning the exact details for Boom One and Boom Two.”
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