Chapter 17 - The Closing Net

  Darius was bored.

  Turns out that between all the action and missions, Freeholders sort of just… sat around, chatting. Strictly speaking, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise – while there were a few members who seemed to have day jobs or civilian lives to get back to, the rest were wanted by or known to the Empire. It meant that every time they left the base, there was a risk of being arrested, so sorties were kept to a minimum.

  If nothing else, he was starting to understand why Lena talked to her VI. When the other options were Tarek, who was still a bit of a jerk even at the best of times, Corin, who was pleasant enough for a few minutes but slowly started to look like he was thinking up ways to escape the conversation, and Harlan, who was a little too serious to just casually chat with, well…

  Even a machine would start to look like good company.

  It had also meant that Lena had sort of… latched onto him as the exciting ‘new guy’. Darius didn’t mind a bit of conversation, but he’d always been the sort to enjoy his own company as well.

  As such, it was almost a relief when Harlan strode into the room and clapped sharply to get their attention.

  “Boss lady is calling a meeting. Sounds important,” he said shortly, turning on his heel and striding back out towards Voss’s office.

  Everybody shared a curious glance before scrambling to follow. As they filed into the office, it became immediately clear that this wasn’t just another casual briefing. Voss was already waiting for them, expression severe.

  The room settled into a tense silence as Voss cleared her throat and began speaking.

  “First, I want to thank everyone for their work on the last operation,” she started, her tone brisk and to the point. “We’ve gained some valuable intelligence, but we’ve also potentially uncovered a new complication. Lena,” she turned to the young woman, who straightened, clearly not expecting to be called on. “When that alarm went off at the records building, was it because you missed something bypassing the door? Doesn’t matter if it was – hell, I’d almost prefer that.”

  “Uh, no?” Lena said nervously. “I didn’t even get the chance to start trying to open it. I hadn’t even touched the door yet.”

  Voss clenched her hand into a fist and let out a slow breath. “Damn. Well, that’s confirmation, I suppose.” Before anyone could ask what she was talking about, she continued. “The Empire has been implementing a facial recognition network throughout Caldera IV. The existing camera systems aren’t set up for something like that, so it’s not perfect, but it’s functional enough to pose a risk. While the industrial sector isn’t saturated with cameras like the residential and commercial zones, there are enough active nodes to compromise our safety here.”

  “Wait, what?” Darius asked before he could stop himself. “Isn’t that illegal? I thought they outlawed it decades ago. There were riots about the Empire becoming a ‘surveillance state’ and everything; we covered it in school.”

  “The Empire breaks its own rules,” drawled Tarek. “Shocking.”

  “This isn’t the first time we’ve seen it,” Voss explained. “The Empire doesn’t like to deploy that kind of network unless they have to, and they certainly don’t advertise it. Generally, we don’t see this kind of thing until much later on in the process.”

  “The process?” Darius asked sharply.

  “Ask your squad later; we don’t have time to cover that now,” Voss said dismissively, already moving on. “The important thing is that it’s very likely this location is already known to the Empire, and if it isn’t, it will be soon. We’re lucky that the power grid failed when it did – Imperial forces are busy restoring order to that sector, which gives us a chance to act.”

  A heavy silence followed her words, broken by Lena a moment later. “So… what’s the plan?”

  “We’re leaving,” Voss said simply. “We’ll split into smaller groups and scatter. Each team or squad will be operating independently from here on out. Your squad leader has been informed of some general objectives to work towards. Our goal is to make it impossible for the Empire to pin down more than a fraction of us at once.”

  Tarek, who had been leaning against a wall, straightened with a sceptical look. “And what happens if they catch one of those fractions?”

  “Then they get a fraction,” Voss shot back, her tone sharp. “Not the whole operation. That’s the point, Tarek. This isn’t up for debate.”

  Corin raised a hand slightly, earning a quirked brow from Voss. “And communication? How are we supposed to coordinate if we’re all flying blind?”

  Voss pulled a bulky device out from behind her desk. It had straps attached to the back, and Darius realised it was meant to be worn like a backpack. “Encrypted relays. Each cell will have one. They’re pre-programmed with a dead drop frequency for emergencies only. You will occasionally receive instructions or objectives. Otherwise, assume radio silence.”

  Voss set the device on the desk with a firm thud, her eyes scanning the room. “I need everyone to understand that this isn’t just a precaution. It’s survival. If you don’t trust the process, trust me – this is the best way to keep us all out of prison. Or, if the Empire is escalating as quickly as they seem to be, keep us all alive.”

  “What about supplies?” Lena asked, her voice tentative. “I mean, if we’re all split up, what happens if we run out of food or medical stuff? Who do we even go to?”

  Voss nodded as if she’d been waiting for the question. “Each cell will have a supply cache. Your leaders know where they’re located. Resupply runs will be done on a rotation to avoid patterns the Empire could track. If things get dire, you use the relay for an emergency request, but understand that every transmission is a risk. Keep your needs simple, and plan for the long haul.”

  “How long do we have to prepare?” Corin asked calmly.

  “As soon as possible.” Voss replied, brooking no argument. “You’ll have an hour to gather your personal belongings and anything portable from the armoury or supply rooms. After that, each team will leave through separate exits and scatter. Coordinates for your fallback locations will be given to your leaders.”

  “What’s to stop them from tracking us to the new locations?” Darius asked. “Even if they don’t have many cameras around this sector, I’d imagine there are a few. Not to mention any time we have to travel through other sectors.”

  Voss nodded in acknowledgement. “You’ll be covering your faces. It’s low-tech and sounds a little stupid, but whatever VI they have running the system won’t be smart enough to flag anything and everything. It’ll be set up to send out an alert whenever it detects specific people. It won’t work forever, and as soon as they get actual people to look through the footage they’ll spot it, but it’ll last long enough for us to start using other methods.”

  She raised a hand to forestall any other questions. “Ask Harlan for the specifics – I have to sort out every other squad we have on the station, so I really don’t have the time.”

  And with that, they were unceremoniously shuffled out of the office, lingering outside in the corridor uncertainly. Darius could relate – he hadn’t been here long enough to really put down roots, but his whole life had been upended a little over two days ago, so he was in a similar boat.

  Harlan cleared his throat, stepping forward to take over. “Alright, you heard her. We’ve got less than an hour to get our things together and make sure we’re ready to move. Grab only what you absolutely need and meet back here in forty-five.”

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  The squad scattered quickly, their expressions a mix of grim determination and urgency. With a sigh, Darius made his way to the small room they’d assigned him. Not that there was much to pack. His belongings consisted of a beat-up bypass kit, his trusty pistol, and a jacket that had seen better days. He didn’t even need to carry everything – his pockets were enough.

  He stepped back into the main hall, his boots echoing against the grated floor. Lena was already there, clutching a large canvas bag and fiddling with the straps nervously. Her gaze flicked up as he approached, and she offered a faint smile.

  “All packed?” she asked.

  “Not much to pack,” he replied with a shrug, holding out his empty hands. “You?”

  “I, uh, don’t have a lot of stuff either,” she shrugged. “Oh, if you don’t have anything else, do you mind giving me a hand with the spare guns and ammo?”

  Darius resisted the urge to point out he wasn’t qualified. This wasn’t the scrapyards where they cared about liability, not to mention he wasn’t explicitly trying to get out of work. It was an odd feeling.

  “Yeah, no worries,” he said, following her over to the kitchen where the guns were stored, suppressing a grin as he did so. As convenient as the drawers were, he didn’t think he would ever get used to the idea of deadly weapons being stored next to the cutlery.

  As they worked, Corin emerged from another corridor, his arms loaded with neatly organised gear. He didn’t say anything as he passed, just gave Darius a quick nod before setting everything down in the staging area.

  It wasn’t long before the others filtered back, each weighed down by bags or cases. Darius didn’t fail to notice that despite the short notice, they all seemed well prepared. The perils of the lifestyle, he supposed.

  Harlan returned a few minutes later, a bundle of face coverings slung under one arm. He dropped the pile on the nearest table, gesturing for everyone to take one.

  “These should do the trick,” he said briskly. “Nothing fancy, just enough to keep the system from tagging you. Grab what fits and make it quick.”

  Darius picked through the pile, pulling out a plain grey scarf. He wound it loosely around the lower half of his face, pulling the ends up high enough to obscure his nose. He grabbed a pair of cheap sunglasses from the edge of the stack, slipping them on to complete the look. The effect was effective, if not particularly flattering.

  “Do I look as ridiculous as I feel?” Lena asked, adjusting a cheap medical mask. Her wide-framed sunglasses gave her a bug-eyed look that almost made Darius laugh.

  “You’re good,” he said, biting back a grin. “Very incognito. Nobody’s going to recognise you.”

  “Yeah, because they’ll be too busy wondering why I look like I’m about to rob a bank.”

  “Better that than the alternative,” Harlan interjected, his tone making it clear there was no room for debate. “You can ditch the disguises later when we’re clear of the area, but for now, keep them on.”

  The squad finished gearing up in silence, checking straps and securing weapons with practised ease. Darius snagged the duffel bag full of assorted weapons and ammunition from Lena, swinging it over his shoulder and shooting her a quick smile.

  “Alright,” Harlan said, pulling a thin cloth over his own face. “We move out now. Follow me, and stay close. Keep your heads down, and don’t look back.”

  Darius glanced to his left as they passed the open doors to a large common area. Inside, he spotted several other squads going through the same routine: packing supplies, handing out face coverings, and giving each other quiet nods of encouragement.

  “Keep moving,” Harlan murmured, glancing over his shoulder. “The less we know about what they’re doing, the better.”

  – – –

  They left the base on foot, sticking to the maintenance tunnels and avoiding cameras as much as possible. As one of the smaller squads, they had few enough things to carry that it was viable to move without the use of a transport. Darius also secretly thought that Voss might view him as something of a ‘high-risk asset’ and was arranging things so that when he was eventually captured, the Freeholders would lose as few resources as possible.

  It might have just been his paranoia, but somehow he didn’t think so.

  Things got a little trickier once they had travelled a few miles out from the base. Darius realised that the Freeholders must have mapped out the cameras nearby so Harlan knew the route to take that let them avoid being seen, but now they were forced to take things slower, carefully checking around each corner before they moved.

  The caution – not to mention pace – was untenable in the long term, especially because as they got closer to the busier sectors the number of cameras would increase until it was impossible to avoid them all. Still, the further they got, the harder it would be for the Empire to pick up their trail.

  Or so Darius assumed, anyway. There wasn’t much talking going on.

  With little better to do, he found himself taking in their surroundings as they walked. It was funny – he’d been living in Exeter Station for most of three years now, but he’d never spent much time actually looking at the place. Every time he left his tiny apartment, it was with a destination in mind, and usually, that meant keeping his head down and music pumping as he sought the quickest route.

  Now, though, he could take in the towering factories and production facilities that dominated the skyline, their smokestacks belching plumes of greyish vapour into the thin, corrosive atmosphere. The streets were wide, but every surface—walls, roads, even the occasional scraps of fencing—seemed worn down by time and use. It wasn’t hard to see why; Caldera IV’s atmosphere had a reputation for chewing through anything that wasn’t properly treated.

  Their path led them deeper into the sector, weaving between shadowed alleys and narrow access roads. The shift to the Residential Zone was subtle at first—the occasional apartment building breaking up the rows of factories—but the change became more apparent the farther they went. The roads grew narrower, the air slightly less oppressive. The buildings here were packed closer together, many of them towering high above, their exteriors a patchwork of repairs and mismatched materials.

  Even within the Residential Zone, Darius noticed distinctions. They passed through a medical subsector, identifiable by the faded signs pointing toward a cluster of clinics and supply depots. A short detour brought them near an engineering hub, where towering scaffolds and tangled piles of parts marked a maintenance depot for the station’s infrastructure. Sub-sectors like these dotted the main sectors, providing specialised services but blending into the station’s chaotic layout.

  The streets grew busier the closer they got to the heart of the Residential Zone. Darius kept his head down, tugging his scarf a little tighter around his face. It wasn’t unusual to see people wearing face coverings – Exeter Station’s air quality wasn’t the best… well, anywhere really, though it was especially bad in the denser zones – but paired with the large bags each of them carried, it made him feel like they stood out more than they should.

  “Relax,” Lena murmured, walking beside him. She had adjusted her scarf to sit looser around her neck, though it still covered her face well enough. She glanced around with the casual ease of someone entirely at home here. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”

  “Do I?” he asked, shifting his bag on his shoulder. It wasn’t terribly heavy, but the thought of what he was carrying made him a little nervous. He couldn’t shake the mental image of tripping over a crack in the street and having guns and ammunition spill out everywhere.

  “You’re fine,” she said. “Just don’t start running, and you’ll blend in. Trust me, no one’s paying attention.”

  It was a hard thing to believe, but as Darius forced himself to look up, he saw what she meant. The people around them weren’t sparing the squad a second glance. A woman in a heavy jacket pushed a stroller past, her attention fixed on the small child playing with a battered toy inside. A group of men in worn coveralls laughed as they shared a meal near the entrance to a side alley. Two teenagers zipped by on battered hoverboards, their voices raised in excitement as one narrowly avoided a fruit vendor’s stall.

  Normal people, living normal lives.

  The further they went, the more Darius started to see the little details of life in this sector. Murals painted on the sides of buildings, bright and vibrant despite the grime that tried to dull their colours. Neon signs advertising everything from medical implants to late-night karaoke. The steady thrum of music spilled from a bar as a man in an apron swept its entrance clean. It was a patchwork of activity and personality, the kind of thing that felt distinctly frontier—resourceful, self-reliant, but still alive with small bursts of creativity.

  Harlan led them unerringly to a thoroughly unremarkable building; a mid-rise apartment block squeezed between a barbershop and what looked like an automated laundromat. Its exterior was patched and worn but sturdy, the kind of place no one paid much attention to.

  They avoided the front door, moving around to a narrow service entrance tucked between a row of garbage bins. He punched in a code on the worn keypad, and the heavy door creaked open to reveal a dimly lit stairwell. The air inside was cooler, tinged with the faint smell of cleaning solvent.

  “We’re on the fourth floor,” Harlan said quietly, gesturing for them to follow. “Keep it quiet until we’re inside.”

  The stairs were narrow and steep, and Darius’s legs ached by the time they reached the landing. The door to their apartment was a standard metal slab, its edges chipped where the paint had worn away. Harlan unlocked it with another code, pushing it open to reveal their new safe-house.

  It wasn’t much, but it was functional. The main room was open-plan, with a small kitchenette tucked into one corner and a mismatched assortment of furniture scattered around. A couch with faded upholstery sat in the centre, flanked by a low table covered in faint burn marks. The walls were bare except for a single, lopsided shelf holding a few empty cups and a battered clock. Two narrow hallways branched off, leading to what Darius assumed were the bedrooms and the bathroom.

  “Could be worse,” Lena said, setting her bag down near the couch. She glanced toward one of the hallways. “Dibs on a top bunk, if there are any.”

  “No neighbours on this floor,” Harlan said, ignoring her. “I picked this place for a reason. Keep your noise to a minimum anyway. The last thing we need is attention.”

  Darius set his bag down near the wall, taking a moment to survey the room. It was quiet, the faint hum of the building’s systems the only sound. Outside the window, the lights of the city blinked faintly, casting long shadows across the floor.

  “Alright,” Harlan said, clapping his hands together softly. “Get settled. We’ll debrief in an hour.”