Miles stifled his frustration, thought better of the habit and released a hissing sigh.
These operations would go so much more smoothly if they had access to reliable transport. With the entirety of inner circle of The Order’s capsualers gone to ground or in hiding they just had to make do.
The worst part was not knowing, the communication blackout requirement for operational security takes an energetic toll on the imagination.
He could be here for some time, in a quite literal dark place, awaiting the arrival of operatives that he sent into harms way. If things go poorly they may not return and he might never know the precise reason why.
The shadows of the sodium-vapour lit interior resolved into features, the first of three silent figures all in dark clothing. The Amarian featured woman eyes were alive with urgency but not a word was uttered, she flashed a warning hand signal to inform him of imminent battle. He gestured his acknowledgment and eased out of the light.
A pair of security guards passed by with a negligent flair of their flashlights, their noisy footfalls proceeding to recede along their prescribed patrol route.
The figures that followed were quick, silent and just as intent to avoid detection by the patrol. Four gang members, individualistic, undisciplined yet seemingly intent on violence rushed their secluded space.
The scuffle was brief, with no need for him to intervene. The gang was laid low silently and in good order. No one on his team appeared to be injured.
He looked to Angeline for explanation.
She handed him a datachip, “That’s everything they’ve got.” we were only detected on the way back. Someone on the team shifted their weight uncomfortably.
“And the Cylable?” He asked palm still open. The module was added with a hint of reluctance. “Useful.” was her only comment. He nodded.
“Any injury’s?” He inquired of the rest of the group, each of which indicated a negative so he turned his attention to the four prone figures stripped of weaponry before him.
He activated the Cyable, feeling rather than hearing the tone it emitted. He guided the module over the victims one by one, sensing wounds old and new in the energetic field of their senseless state. This local creation worked just as well as the prototype back at headquarters. Good, because there was no way to smuggle such technology down to the surface. It had been a feet to get themselves here. The Curse was unforgiving.
The Winnower clan, one of many Lirsutton Six street gangs had no idea what they had constructed, no idea who their commissioner was and no idea that their facilities would be infiltrated with all data traces erased while the product was stolen.
You three go ahead. “I’ll finish up here.” They nodded and departed. Grimly Miles keyed the Cylable to a serrated emission and imploded the causal energy centres at the base of their skull one by one.