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<blockquote data-quote="kroh" data-source="post: 2273499" data-attributes="member: 16768">Chapter 1: Phantoms&nbsp; &nbsp; Soft blue, it was everywhere in the large cavernous room.&nbsp; Several rows of desks set apart in a stadium-like array boasted computer screens being worshiped by their technicians.&nbsp; A screen for every seat and a body for every screen, the room resembled a giant amphitheater awash in the electronic glow of the many screens and monitors.&nbsp;&nbsp; A large wall many meters away boasted a stories tall screen that bestowed power readings and tracking data to any that cared to cast a glance upward.&nbsp; Dark, except for the lush blue light, the room spoke volumes of the activity that would soon be taking place. &nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; High above the hive, a command and control center floated amidst the catwalks in the shadows of the ceiling.&nbsp; High above the light, the presence of the center was heavenly, as everyone below knew that it was there though none of them could see it.&nbsp; Several coordinators tracked information from their sections and relayed instructions back as a conductor relays instructions to an orchestra.&nbsp; Stark still and taking in all around him, a lone figure stood motionless in the center.&nbsp; High above the action and surrounded by his administrators, the figure remained impassive.&nbsp; A wireless halo framed his head feeding a data stream directly into his brain.&nbsp; The signal transmitted all that was necessary for him to know so that he could see any event or hear any exchange as if he were standing where it was taking place.&nbsp; This man was the maestro and this was his masterpiece.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Sir,” one of his controllers placed a firm grip on his shoulder bringing him from his reverie.&nbsp; “We are ready to begin.”&nbsp; &nbsp; “Has Alpha 1-1 and Alpha 1-2 reported back yet?”&nbsp; &nbsp; “No Sir,” he replied dryly.&nbsp;&nbsp; Small oval glasses turned to regard the man and wonder at his tone.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “We lost contact at 18:30 hours and have yet to hear anything.&nbsp; The group pursuing them is not wearing any insignia and they didn’t believe that it was police or local militia.&nbsp; All we know at this point, Sir is that they are running for their life and 1-2 is hurt.&nbsp; Some one who knows what to look for is jamming their locator beacons.&nbsp; Who ever is doing this knows a little something about how we do business. “&nbsp; &nbsp; “What assets do we have available?” the Maestro was thinking it was time for the next movement of this “concert” and dramatic tones were needed. &nbsp; &nbsp; “Not much at the moment,” replied the Lieutenant.&nbsp; “We have a couple of crisis and crash teams but nothing as covert as what we need for this operation.&nbsp; We have a tool box full of hammers and hacksaws when what we really need is a scalpel.”&nbsp; &nbsp; The figure turned back to the darkness of the pit below and then regarded the giant display screen before him.&nbsp; Unfolding the arms that rested upon his chest, a small control in his palm conjured up “holo’s” of tracking data and mission reports of everything that had happened up to this point.&nbsp; The “music” of this mission had started innocently enough but was becoming increasingly complex.&nbsp; The figure risked a small smile.&nbsp; He loved to compare these missions to concerts.&nbsp; The analogy always lined up perfectly.&nbsp; In some of the greatest concerto’s that had ever been played, many conductors sought the simplistic freedom of a soloist when the need to change the pace of a peace became apparent.&nbsp; He needed a soloist now.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Get Echo-3 up and running.&nbsp; I want him ready to jump in 15.”&nbsp; &nbsp; The lieutenant took an involuntary step back and stared at his conductor.&nbsp; The halo on his balding head was still.&nbsp; The holo’s had faded and been replaced with his arms folded back across his chest.&nbsp; He stood as he always did, still.&nbsp; The other coordinators on the catwalk far above the floor looked up from their tasks to regard the lieutenant and then the conductor.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; “Something I said not working for you?&nbsp; Or should I promote one of your crew who will carry out my orders?”&nbsp; &nbsp; “No problem, Sir.&nbsp; Are you sure that you want send him out so early?&nbsp; I mean, you only just suspended him for the last time he went out.&nbsp; Not to mention the fact that the government of…”&nbsp; &nbsp; The figure turned and suddenly all other faces went back to worshiping their terminals and the lieutenant took another step back under the withering stare.&nbsp; “Just get him going.&nbsp; As you said…what we need is a scalpel.”&nbsp; &nbsp; Next: Heavy Breathing</blockquote>

[QUOTE="kroh, post: 2273499, member: 16768"] Chapter 1: Phantoms Soft blue, it was everywhere in the large cavernous room. Several rows of desks set apart in a stadium-like array boasted computer screens being worshiped by their technicians. A screen for every seat and a body for every screen, the room resembled a giant amphitheater awash in the electronic glow of the many screens and monitors. A large wall many meters away boasted a stories tall screen that bestowed power readings and tracking data to any that cared to cast a glance upward. Dark, except for the lush blue light, the room spoke volumes of the activity that would soon be taking place. High above the hive, a command and control center floated amidst the catwalks in the shadows of the ceiling. High above the light, the presence of the center was heavenly, as everyone below knew that it was there though none of them could see it. Several coordinators tracked information from their sections and relayed instructions back as a conductor relays instructions to an orchestra. Stark still and taking in all around him, a lone figure stood motionless in the center. High above the action and surrounded by his administrators, the figure remained impassive. A wireless halo framed his head feeding a data stream directly into his brain. The signal transmitted all that was necessary for him to know so that he could see any event or hear any exchange as if he were standing where it was taking place. This man was the [I]maestro[/I] and this was his masterpiece. “Sir,” one of his controllers placed a firm grip on his shoulder bringing him from his reverie. “We are ready to begin.” “Has Alpha 1-1 and Alpha 1-2 reported back yet?” “No Sir,” he replied dryly. Small oval glasses turned to regard the man and wonder at his tone. “We lost contact at 18:30 hours and have yet to hear anything. The group pursuing them is not wearing any insignia and they didn’t believe that it was police or local militia. All we know at this point, Sir is that they are running for their life and 1-2 is hurt. Some one who knows what to look for is jamming their locator beacons. Who ever is doing this knows a little something about how we do business. “ “What assets do we have available?” the Maestro was thinking it was time for the next movement of this “concert” and dramatic tones were needed. “Not much at the moment,” replied the Lieutenant. “We have a couple of crisis and crash teams but nothing as covert as what we need for this operation. We have a tool box full of hammers and hacksaws when what we really need is a scalpel.” The figure turned back to the darkness of the pit below and then regarded the giant display screen before him. Unfolding the arms that rested upon his chest, a small control in his palm conjured up “holo’s” of tracking data and mission reports of everything that had happened up to this point. The “music” of this mission had started innocently enough but was becoming increasingly complex. The figure risked a small smile. He loved to compare these missions to concerts. The analogy always lined up perfectly. In some of the greatest concerto’s that had ever been played, many conductors sought the simplistic freedom of a soloist when the need to change the pace of a peace became apparent. He needed a soloist now. “Get Echo-3 up and running. I want him ready to jump in 15.” The lieutenant took an involuntary step back and stared at his conductor. The halo on his balding head was still. The holo’s had faded and been replaced with his arms folded back across his chest. He stood as he always did, still. The other coordinators on the catwalk far above the floor looked up from their tasks to regard the lieutenant and then the conductor. “Something I said not working for you? Or should I promote one of your crew who [B]will[/B] carry out my orders?” “No problem, Sir. Are you sure that you want send him out so early? I mean, you only just suspended him for the last time he went out. Not to mention the fact that the government of…” The figure turned and suddenly all other faces went back to worshiping their terminals and the lieutenant took another step back under the withering stare. “Just get him going. As you said…what we need is a scalpel.” Next: Heavy Breathing [/QUOTE]

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