Read Online Tears of Kerberos by Michael G. Thomas - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael G. Thomas
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It could even be a ship out there,” she said.
“Maybe the signal is routine?”
“Routine with a narrow band encoded transmission? I don’t think so, Sir. The only people with the equipment for that kind of long range transmission is the Confed Navy or one of the main government departments on Kerberos. If it was military traffic, it would be sealed with the standard ciphers so that only our own command staff could access it. I think it much more likely it was sent by someone else. It can’t be a coincidence that the encoding is much stronger than used for civilian traffic, yet is not using military ciphers. My opinion is that this is either important military data to somebody that doesn’t want to be found or, more likely that somebody on Kerberos is communicating with a group out on the Rim and they don’t want anybody else knowing about it.”
Commander Anderson checked the log as he examined the route taken by the beamed transmission. He was all too familiar with the Rim and the complexity of finding even a base or ship, let alone an individual person. It was known through the Proxima System that if you wanted to disappear or renege on a deal you would hide out in the Rim, as you would never be found. The downside was that it was crawling with unsavoury characters that were usually best avoided. Until he had more information it would be useless trying to investigate this further.
“Okay, good work, Lieutenant. Let me know when you have more data on the decryption. Keep this between us.”
As Lieutenant Nilsson continued her work on the encrypted data packet the damaged vessel continued its plodding course to the shipyards over Kerberos.
* * *
The light flashed on Johnson’s communicator, it was the signal that the target was in position. He took a deep breath and then gave the hand signal to move in. At first nothing happened, it was as if none of the men were ready, but in fact it was the adrenalin kicking in and slowing the burst of activity. His unit fanned out as the spotters and their snipers took out the guards in the street with tranquiliser slugs. The shots were accurate and in less than two seconds the street was clear and the entry team rushed across the street. Johnson was second at the door waiting to the side as two armoured ATU men moved into assault positions. With a flicker the fanned-out metal shields extended from their armour to provide additional protection. They stepped a small distance apart to give the third man space to wield his ram. It was a heavy tool and contained a built in pneumatic pump that could smash through almost any door. With a low thump it smashed the exterior door from its hinges and the way was clear.
“Go, go, go!” shouted Johnson.
The two at the front went in quickly, each carrying a thermal shotgun at the ready. The orders were to avoid hostilities if possible, but in these situations it could easily turn violent. These weapons were deadly at close range but wouldn’t break through the outer walls and possibly injure innocent bystanders. Johnson followed closely behind them with his pistol drawn and at the ready. The hallway was dark, the only lighting from red strip lights running along the ceiling. A loud throbbing beat from the sound system made normal discussion almost impossible. As they reached the end of the hallway they came to the door that led to the staircase. It went up to the second floor and into the main dance floor and club. Sat in a kiosk to the right was a scantily clad woman, presumably there to take cash from the patrons. She grabbed something from the wooden unit to her side and swung it around at the ATU officers. The first managed to dodge out of the way but the second took a direct blast from the firearm. Johnson jumped to grab her arm. With a hard pull he smashed her hand on the unit and the pistol dropped to the floor. More ATU officers arrived and one of them secured her with manacles escorting her out of the building.
Johnson
“Maybe the signal is routine?”
“Routine with a narrow band encoded transmission? I don’t think so, Sir. The only people with the equipment for that kind of long range transmission is the Confed Navy or one of the main government departments on Kerberos. If it was military traffic, it would be sealed with the standard ciphers so that only our own command staff could access it. I think it much more likely it was sent by someone else. It can’t be a coincidence that the encoding is much stronger than used for civilian traffic, yet is not using military ciphers. My opinion is that this is either important military data to somebody that doesn’t want to be found or, more likely that somebody on Kerberos is communicating with a group out on the Rim and they don’t want anybody else knowing about it.”
Commander Anderson checked the log as he examined the route taken by the beamed transmission. He was all too familiar with the Rim and the complexity of finding even a base or ship, let alone an individual person. It was known through the Proxima System that if you wanted to disappear or renege on a deal you would hide out in the Rim, as you would never be found. The downside was that it was crawling with unsavoury characters that were usually best avoided. Until he had more information it would be useless trying to investigate this further.
“Okay, good work, Lieutenant. Let me know when you have more data on the decryption. Keep this between us.”
As Lieutenant Nilsson continued her work on the encrypted data packet the damaged vessel continued its plodding course to the shipyards over Kerberos.
* * *
The light flashed on Johnson’s communicator, it was the signal that the target was in position. He took a deep breath and then gave the hand signal to move in. At first nothing happened, it was as if none of the men were ready, but in fact it was the adrenalin kicking in and slowing the burst of activity. His unit fanned out as the spotters and their snipers took out the guards in the street with tranquiliser slugs. The shots were accurate and in less than two seconds the street was clear and the entry team rushed across the street. Johnson was second at the door waiting to the side as two armoured ATU men moved into assault positions. With a flicker the fanned-out metal shields extended from their armour to provide additional protection. They stepped a small distance apart to give the third man space to wield his ram. It was a heavy tool and contained a built in pneumatic pump that could smash through almost any door. With a low thump it smashed the exterior door from its hinges and the way was clear.
“Go, go, go!” shouted Johnson.
The two at the front went in quickly, each carrying a thermal shotgun at the ready. The orders were to avoid hostilities if possible, but in these situations it could easily turn violent. These weapons were deadly at close range but wouldn’t break through the outer walls and possibly injure innocent bystanders. Johnson followed closely behind them with his pistol drawn and at the ready. The hallway was dark, the only lighting from red strip lights running along the ceiling. A loud throbbing beat from the sound system made normal discussion almost impossible. As they reached the end of the hallway they came to the door that led to the staircase. It went up to the second floor and into the main dance floor and club. Sat in a kiosk to the right was a scantily clad woman, presumably there to take cash from the patrons. She grabbed something from the wooden unit to her side and swung it around at the ATU officers. The first managed to dodge out of the way but the second took a direct blast from the firearm. Johnson jumped to grab her arm. With a hard pull he smashed her hand on the unit and the pistol dropped to the floor. More ATU officers arrived and one of them secured her with manacles escorting her out of the building.
Johnson
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