| Chapter Twenty-Three: Reconnaissance They called him the Breaker. He’d never told anyone what his real name was, and he planned to keep it that way. His nickname had come from his size, mainly. The Breaker was a big, olive green Reploid with solid limbs and a barrel chest. He appeared to be just another brute, but all you really needed to see were his eyes. They were as green as the rest of him, and you could almost see the intelligence behind them. The Breaker was a crafty one, passerby would think. He was not someone who could be misled easily, though countless officers had tried to do just that. Officers, the Breaker scoffed. As if he were really a part of the Maverick army. Sure, he considered himself to be a Maverick in principle, but he’d never actually joined up with their ranks. The Breaker had no problem with killing humans, since killing was a regular part of his job. He didn’t like the overgrown monkeys, anyway. Too high on their thrones, he thought. Besides, Reploids usually paid better for his services. He took jobs for both humans and Reploids, and even a few Maverick officers. The problem with that was that the Mavericks could get pretty high on their thrones, too. The Breaker would calmly explain that he was not a soldier—he was a businessman. He would then demand his pay and leave. No one ever denied him his salary…men like the Breaker were not men you wanted angry with you. It wasn’t that he was especially powerful compared to some of his other fellow Reploids, he knew. It was his demeanor, always calm, cool, and composed, and the way he made his demands that scared the hell out of those who were giving him a hard time. He didn’t consider himself to be a brigand or a brute, just a professional. This job, however, was the closest he’d ever come to full time Maverick service. The Breaker walked down the path—actually it wasn’t a path at all, just a route through trees that he and his “comrades” had been forced to memorize—towards the location of his newest home. He never stayed in one place long, though he generally kept his services limited to South America. He had found that he liked this jungle setting, and that he worked well in it. He certainly wasn’t having much trouble fulfilling this particular jungle assignment, but that could change at any moment, he knew. He was playing with fire, more so than ever before. All of them were, but the rest of them were Mavericks and didn’t care. They had some Grand Goal that they had to achieve. The Breaker’s goal was a paycheck, preferably wired to his Swiss account. Even this far in the future, the Swiss were the best in that particular area. His employer, a rather curious little Maverick, was terribly unorthodox in his methods, even annoyingly so, but he was proving to be very effective, and the Breaker figured he could live with that. That Maverick was in charge of all the more technical aspects of construction. All that the Breaker had to do was manage security. That was, after all, his specialty. He could develop nearly foolproof security measures, but most of the really good ones were only temporary. That was all right, the Maverick had assured him. All they needed was some help in keeping the Hunters away from this particular spot of the Amazon until the complex became operational. They still had a long way to go, the Breaker thought as he pushed some wet tropical foliage out of his way. As they snapped back he caught some of the cool droplets of morning dew as they flew from the leaves. It was vaguely refreshing; this was a rather hot place. The base—for that was what the “complex” had to be, the Breaker knew—was barely out of the beginning stages. The foundation had been laid and the walls were up, but there was still a lot of structural work to be done, and the construction crew that the Mavericks had working for them wasn’t moving quite fast enough. But that wasn’t fair, was it? They were working as fast as they could, considering the reward they’d been promised. None of the construction workers really had any idea who they were working for, and they were breaking several laws by keeping this project a secret, but money was still money, the Breaker thought with a smirk as he casually squashed a rather huge spider that had been unfortunate enough to stop in the Reploid’s path. The Breaker had no idea what the Mavericks wanted to do here in Brazil. They weren’t building a base for the fun of it, and judging by the way that the commanding Maverick was acting lately, time for the project was running short. The Breaker had heard on the news that Sigma had been killed again, way, way up in New York…or Megacity 5, as it was called now. The Breaker had mixed feelings about the Megacity System. For one thing, it was a rather effective way for countries to live and coexist, and it also kept the countries that weren’t a part of the system in bad shape, something that the Breaker could exploit. On the other hand, the System was constantly expanding its reach across the globe. The Megacity Council ran the Megacity System’s legislative body, and the Breaker was somewhat skeptical about the thought of a single panel of men controlling the entire world. But, really, that was hardly his concern. His concern, he thought as he entered the perimeter of the Brazilian complex, was guarding this area and keeping the project a secret. That involved clandestine business sometimes. If there were ever a breach in security, it would be up to him to find and neutralize the leak. That was also something that the Breaker was particularly good at. He blessed the wet jungle ground and the humid jungle air. It allowed him to walk in near silence, despite his size, except for the squishing of leaves underneath his heavy feet, since the wetness in the air absorbed noise like a sponge. He was slow and methodical, taking in every sight and scanning for abnormalities. There were none, nor did he expect there to be. It was just a habit, and one that was good to have, he thought. His trained ears heard the approach from a mile away, but he did not react in any other way but to sigh and turn slightly to his right. He was within eyeshot of the construction site, and one of the Mavericks was running up to meet him. The Breaker didn’t really like this one. Tekki, was that his name? Maybe that was it. At any rate, the Maverick was no good at stealth, and it almost pained the Breaker to see how carelessly he was being approached. Were he a Hunter, he knew, he could probably take out most of the Mavericks present before any of them noticed what was going on. He probably wouldn’t be able to defeat them all, he conceded, since he wasn’t exactly omnipotent. But if he single handedly could launch a guerilla attack on this place, he shuddered to think what an organized Hunter assault team might be able to do. The Hunter HQ in Brazil wasn’t notably effective, but when had they ever needed to be? X and Zero always turned up around the world when things got really bad. It was a bad idea, the Breaker thought, to rely on two men to save the world. But, again, that wasn’t his concern. His concern was keeping this place safe for a few more days until the Maverick in charge could bring down a more heavily armed defensive team. The Maverick named Tekki came to a halt before the Breaker and nodded his head respectfully. It was only wise to be respectful towards a big guy like the Breaker, after all. “The commander wants a word with you, sir.” The sir wasn’t necessary, since the Breaker wasn’t an officer, but he wasn’t a regular soldier either, so Tekki played it safe. “Does he,” the Breaker responded evenly. “He’s in the control room?” “What’s finished of it,” Tekki affirmed with a nod. The Breaker’s eyes flashed with disapproval, but Tekki didn’t catch it. “Fine. See if you can get back to your post without alerting anyone.” “Sir…?” He didn’t get it, the Breaker saw, but then, he never did. The big Reploid walked off towards the control center leaving a confused Tekki in his wake. He wiped the dampness off his forehead as he frowned. He didn’t have the ability to sweat, but the condensation caused by the jungle’s humidity more than negated that fact. How many times did he have to tell that commander? The control room was full of extremely heavy pieces of equipment, and it wasn’t stable yet. Even a Reploid’s body wouldn’t be able to handle several tons of weight crashing down on top of it, especially a tiny guy like that. The Breaker sighed and shook his head as he entered the beginnings of a Maverick base. The competency of the Mavericks wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself. ____________________ Tekki heard the slight buzzing around the usual hour. Sometimes, in the early morning or at night, there came the buzzing of insects around the complex. It was the same group of insects each time, Tekki thought, since the noise never really changed. He didn’t know much of anything about entomology, and just assumed, like his colleagues, that a nearby nest of insects rose and buzzed about around certain times of day. Insects had circadian rhythms, too, didn’t they? Circadian was even named after the circada bug, Tekki thought, badly mangling the bug’s name. Even the Breaker would have probably laughed in his face if he’d presented that poor theory. Simple ignorance was really a great thing sometimes. Not twelve feet away from Tekki, a spy moved through the foliage. It wasn’t a very conspicuous spy, and if one of the Mavericks had seen it from afar they wouldn’t have paid it much attention at all, for it perfectly resembled a small dragonfly. Closer inspection would have exposed it for the drone it was, and an alert would be raised, but that wasn’t a problem, was it? The pilot of the dragonfly knew very well how to use his toys, and had never once been caught in the act by the enemy. Still, there was a first time for everything, and he knew it. The dragonfly’s “mouth” was a combination of things. Usually it was a blaster that fired orbs of plasma at a target, but now it was fitted with a camera that sent images to a remote computer screen that really wasn’t far away. Actually, the images passed through the mind of the pilot, but since he’d figured that his comrades would want to see what was going on too, he’d set up the computer linkup. This wasn’t the only dragonfly in motion this morning. Five others buzzed around the ends of the construction site, gathering information in a way no manual reconnaissance could ever hope to better. A hundred and fifty feet away, safely nestled away from the patrolling Mavericks yet dangerously close to the perimeter at the same time, two men were huddled around one of the computers. Both were humans, and were coated in camouflage paint and sported army field uniforms to blend in with the scenery. They had practiced their craft to the point of perfection, and were virtually invisible. Even the computer was hidden well. “What’re you thinking, Julio?” one man all but whispered without moving his eyes from the screen. “I’m thinkin’ something’s going down here,” responded Julio Gomez, a former sergeant in the Brazilian army. He’d retired three years ago, but not to sit around. He’d met an agent during his service, an agent who worked with a guy up north. Gomez had been tired of working for the army anyway, and jumped at the chance to do jungle recon with the agent, who was monitoring the area for a scientist named Gate, who worked with the Megacity System. Apparently the Megacity System was a little nervous about the political situation in Brazil; their army had been a little aggressive lately. Gate had taken it upon himself to see if something was really going on, and Gomez was fine with helping out. Besides, the company was good and the pay was surprisingly decent. “Maybe my old pals are up to something after all, eh?” “Pricks,” Manny Rodriguez observed. He was not an army man; rather, he was a mercenary trained by the Old Guard, a term used to identify a former right wing group that had been popular in Brazil a few years ago. Rodriguez had become thoroughly disillusioned with government service and saw Gate’s position as very appealing. Gate was loyal to peace, not the Megacities, and the government of Brazil more or less recognized Gate’s neutrality, as did most other civilized nations. The man really got around, Rodriguez thought. “So what do you think they’re building?” “Sure as hell ain’t a McDonalds,” Gomez responded. Those were literally everywhere, too. “Well, what have we here…” He tapped a button on the computer keypad. A hundred feet ahead, one of the dragonflies moved in a little closer. The camera focused in on a big Reploid headed towards the largest area of the building. “Big son of a bitch, ain’t he?” “Probably a puss,” Rodriguez grinned. The big ones were always the easiest targets for guerillas. “Where do you think he’s off to in such a hurry?” “Take a piss,” Gomez shrugged. They both found that amusing. They didn’t have anything big against Reploids—they hated Mavericks, of course, but the other Reploids weren’t any better or worse than humans in their eyes—but they were both annoyed by the silent arrogance most Reploids displayed. “Gomez, Rodriguez, what do you got?” The voice came from Gomez’s radio. “Side shots, boss,” Gomez replied. “We snapped one of a big Reploid too. Doesn’t ring any bells, but who knows?” “Got it,” the boss replied. “I’m coming over there.” “That’s a roger,” Rodriguez affirmed. It didn’t take long at all. They heard Gate’s agent approach due to the buzzing of his wings—it wasn’t loud, but any noise seemed like a scream to these men. Commander Yammark emerged from the foliage behind Rodriguez and Gomez, hovering low to the ground. Yammark strongly resembled a larger version of the dragonfly drones he controlled. He was one of those Reploids who would never be able to pass as a human. His armor was green and white, and he didn’t have hands, really. Instead, long thin prongs that resembled lances extended from his forearms, and his face was hidden behind a mask with giant red globes around the eyes, perfecting the dragonfly image. Yammark had been assembled in Brazil, working for the reconnaissance wing of their intelligence service until he’d been approached by Gate. Gate’s efforts to stabilize Brazil had gained him the government’s trust, and since all the data Yammark sent to his boss first went through the Brazilian government, no one really minded one way or another what the reconnaissance expert did for Gate. Rodriguez and Gomez both worked for the money, but they also believed in the cause that Yammark represented, if nothing else because the Maverick threat had not been terribly strong in Brazil, but sooner or later it would have to happen, and if this Gate guy could maybe put a stop to it all, more power to him. “Show me the big one,” Commander Yammark said immediately. “Here we go,” Gomez said as he pulled up an image on the screen. Commander Yammark got his first view of the Breaker, a man who would become a giant menace to his operation, though Yammark couldn’t have known that yet. “He’s big all right,” Yammark observed. “Knows what he’s doing, from the looks of his movements. Probably a security puke,” the dragonfly Reploid concluded quickly. “Where’s he headed?” “Large central structure,” Gomez pointed out, switching back to the live feed offered by the dragonfly drones. “How ‘bout it, boss? What is this place supposed to be?” “I don’t know,” Yammark replied truthfully. “That’s what we’re here to find out, though.” The Reploid’s eyes became almost vacant, but his two comrades knew that he was only reverting to the gaze of his drones, which were linked to and controlled by his CPU. “Think we got some black op going?” Rodriguez mused; looking ahead with his binoculars to make sure no one was in the immediate area. “Think the gov’s got something going here?” “No clue,” Yammark said distractedly. He snapped out of it and looked back at his two guerillas. “I think I’d have heard something by now…and at any rate, there’s not a whole lot the government can do this far out in the rainforest. I think it’s secluded for a reason.” “Of course,” Rodriguez agreed, “but who’s doing the secluding?” “Yo,” Gomez slapped Yammark’s arm and motioned around the screen. “Take a look at the sentries, and then at the construction crews.” He looked to Rodriguez. “You see what I see?” “What do you see?” Rodriguez asked, not feeling up to a guessing game. “I get it,” Yammark said, becoming distant again. When he stopped manual surveillance he scratched the spot on his helmet where his chin would be with one of his pronged arms and frowned. “A few of the construction workers are humans, but aside from that…” “Oh,” Rodriguez realized. “Every other person here is a Reploid.” “Mavericks?” Gomez spoke the word very quietly, as though its mere mention might bring forth the said evildoers. “It’s not like the army to send specific units like that…all-Reploid or all-human, I mean.” Yammark frowned again, even though no one could see it. “Even the local Hunter units don’t have specific Reploid teams.” “So, Mavericks, then?” Rodriguez wondered. “Maybe,” Yammark allowed. He looked through the eyes of the dragonfly closest to the compound that the Breaker had just entered. No guards were patrolling in the immediate vicinity, and even if they saw the drone from afar, who’d care about a simple little dragonfly? “I’m going to see if I can bring a bug close to one of those holes in the wall,” Yammark announced, referring to the slits of open space where steel beams would soon be fitted in order to support the coming ceiling. A hundred feet in front of the guerillas, a dragonfly fluttered out of the foliage and buzzed about dumbly for a little while before heading up and landing in one of the cracks looking into the center of the complex. Tekki noticed it from his post, but didn’t even commit the sight to memory. It was, after all, just a bug. ____________________ The Breaker stared down in quiet amusement at the small Maverick before him. The Brazilian commander was a bit odd and certainly unimposing at first glance, but then, when had mushrooms ever struck terror into people’s hearts? The Breaker of course knew something about the biological weapons that this Maverick had developed during the Repliforce Uprising—tried to develop, anyway. The Hunters had defeated him before his plans could come to fruitation…twice, actually, the Breaker realized. Somehow, though, Split Mushroom had managed to survive even his supposed final battle with X inside the Final Weapon, and was for whatever reason here in Brazil, working for commanders up north. And now, this little Maverick was finally asking the Breaker questions that mattered. “So what, then? We’re looking at two weeks?” “Probably less than that,” Split Mushroom replied to his temporary security chief. He was little more than four feet tall, decked out in orange armor shaped to perfectly resemble a bipedal mushroom, complete with a funnily shaped head. He was an amusing Reploid, with the voice and impatience of an adolescent. Split eschewed things like proper military order and cared only about getting the job done as quickly as possible, and that, the Breaker decided, was perfectly fine with him. “A squad from up north is coming over to handle security. Leave it to northerners to drag their feet!” Split had only been in the southern hemisphere for a year, but already considered himself a “southerner”. He must have had some bad experiences up north, the Breaker thought, to make him resent northerners so much. “After that, some stuff will happen in the Megacity System, and we’ll be getting some VIPs.” “VIPs?” the Breaker asked quizzically. Split’s voice carried the hints of a grin—he had no real mouth, just a green gas mask type thing below his eyes. “You don’t need to know that, at least not now. I need you to keep this place secure for a little more than a week, and that’s all. If you do good, I might want to keep you on.” “I’m not a part of the Maverick forces,” the Breaker pointed out. “I’m a businessman.” “Right, a businessman,” Split waved it off. “Well, the Mavericks can pay our businessmen well! We have special assets.” “I’m sure,” the Breaker said, hoping to get onto more important matters. He spent the next five minutes laying out a perimeter plan that required aerial surveillance drones among other things, and heavy machine gun encampments at strategic points. He’d prefer to set up an electric alarm system, he said, but didn’t know if it would be possible. Split Mushroom took everything in with his usual bored expressions, even though the Breaker knew that the Maverick was going to do everything that was suggested to him. Split, who got his name from his ability to produce clones of himself, was good at taking advice, even if he did make it his personal goal never to let anyone else in the world know that. “You can get to work, then,” Split said when the Breaker had finished. “Go wherever you need to. In the meantime I’ll see what I can do about these supplies you want.” Victory, the Breaker thought. Now, things would only get easier. “Thank you. Oh, and one more thing,” he added as he headed for the door. “What’s that?” “This place,” the Breaker waved a hand to indicate the entire chamber, “isn’t safe. At any moment it could come crashing down, and then you’re screwed.” “Got it,” Mushroom replied in a different sort of boredom that let the Breaker know that this time his employer didn’t care what he thought. Mushrooms, the Breaker thought as he left. You just could never get through to them. It took him a full minute to begin chuckling at that thought. ____________________ “Jesucristo!” Rodriguez breathed. “This is serious shit!” “It’s dangerous, like,” Yammark agreed. Gomez simply stared at the screen in quiet disbelief. He’d never actually seen a Maverick boss before, and while Split Mushroom wasn’t the most prominent Maverick in the world, Gomez still knew him by sight. Most people in the world could easily recollect the names and faces of all thirty-two Maverick bosses who’d served as the vassals for the big barons during the four wars. Commander Yammark was really frowning now. The presence of Split Mushroom not only meant that this was indeed a Maverick project, but a fairly important one at that, unless Split was just setting up his own base of operations. That was unlikely, Yammark decided. Mushroom wouldn’t have the funds for a place this big. “How many shots did we get of that overgrown fungus?” Rodriguez asked. “Enough,” Yammark promised. “What now?” Gomez said, scanning the area with his own binoculars. All that needed to happen was for one sentry to move into the wrong place at the wrong time, and Yammark’s guerillas would be exposed. “A few more passes,” Yammark decided. “And then we go home. This place is getting more dangerous with each passing second, I think.” He breathed a curse. “Gate will want to see this right away. And not just him.” “Right,” Rodriguez agreed. “Shit, what the hell have we just found?” ____________________ The Breaker didn’t see a dragonfly leave the top of a wall behind him and fly back into the foliage. What he did see, however, was a different dragonfly buzzing harmlessly in front of him, directly in his line of travel. In the shock caused by the discovery of Split Mushroom’s presence, Yammark had mistakenly left his other drones idle, and the Breaker came upon the bug just as Yammark realized his mistake. The big Reploid caught the annoying insect in his hand and squashed it, and immediately stopped dead in his tracks. ____________________ “Shit!” Gomez nearly gagged on the word. “God damn it!!!” Next to him, Commander Yammark froze, drowning in a pool of real horror. ____________________ “What in the hell…?” the Breaker asked himself as he opened his hand and observed its new contents. He’d known right away that the bug he’d crushed wasn’t an insect at all. Insects just didn’t have that many mechanical parts. Insects didn’t have ANY mechanical parts. There were some droids that replaced animal life in some parts of the world, the Breaker recalled, but he didn’t know of any in Brazil, or at least not this part of it. “What are you?” the security boss asked the clutter of parts in his hand. It all became clear when he saw the camera. It was mostly intact, the Breaker saw, and suddenly he was able to identify the various parts that composed what had been an insanely clever reconnaissance device. They were being watched, at this very moment. The Breaker’s professional skills kicked in immediately. His first thought was to notify Split Mushroom, but on further reflection he wondered whether or not the Maverick would overreact. The enemy would probably be fleeing right now anyway, he reasoned, but a blind rush into the forest wouldn’t make them turn up, not now. He took out his radio and dialed the frequency for the patrol chief manning the perimeter. “Breaker,” he said immediately. He thought his nickname was silly, especially when he had to say it, but it wasn’t that bad when others were doing the talking. “What is it?” the chief replied, somewhat tiredly. “Wake the hell up, you fool! Have your perimeter guards spread out into the jungle.” “What…?” “Do as I say. This is an order from Split Mushroom,” he lied. Now he really would have to call in to the commander, he realized. “All right,” the chief responded reluctantly. “May I ask why?” “I believe we’re being watched,” the Breaker responded. “I’ve intercepted a surveillance device. Have your guards spread out, but keep them well organized. The enemy party probably is already on their way out, but see if you can’t get an ID on them.” “Got it,” the chief replied, and cut his radio. The Breaker dialed another frequency. Split Mushroom was annoyed at first, but that soon changed. ____________________ “EZ 1,” Commander Yammark hissed into his radio, contacting all his squad members at once, telling them to follow the path to Evacuation Zone 1. “Scramble! We are compromised!” Rodriguez and Gomez were already moving, the latter carrying the computer underneath his right arm. They both had assault rifles, but knew that if they were forced to use them, they were in a losing situation anyway. If there was one thing Yammark was known for, it was his ability to disappear quickly and without a trace. The guerillas moved like lightning, heading through the foliage down a path they’d already memorized. Yammark himself was worried. If the Mavericks mobilized quickly, things could get ugly. If they took their time, however, then things wouldn’t be so bad. They could probably reach the evacuation point without incident. Yammark darted through the trees with expert skill. The buzzing of his wings would alert the enemy, so he didn’t use them. He ran just as fast as his comrades, and soon EZ-1 was in sight. It was just a patch of clear land where four small hovercrafts awaited. Yammark and his crew boarded them, and the propulsion engines lifted the craft off the ground relatively silently, and the black shapes sped off into the sky. Gomez breathed heavily from inside the transport. He’d twisted an ankle during the run—one of those damned holes in the ground that the mud concealed. Even during his soldier days, he’d never had a real enemy charging after him with killing on their mind, and the experience was jolting, as could be expected. He started shaking without knowing it, but actually was able to conquer the feeling rather quickly. Rodriguez noticed nonetheless. “Easy, man. That wasn’t so bad.” “Yeah,” Gomez replied overdramatically, “biggest scare of my life, almost pissed myself, but it wasn’t THAT bad.” “You did not almost piss yourself,” Rodriguez chuckled. “It takes more than that to get to you, man.” “Yeah, whatever…I’ll repay the bastards next time, is all.” “Next time?” Rodriguez frowned. “Of course,” Commander Yammark said from the pilot’s seat. The only reason he rode inside was because he didn’t fly as fast as the hover-transports did, and he’d be a sitting duck for the enemies below. “People need to know about this. We’re the ones who saw the building from the ground…we’ll volunteer to go back in when the time comes to finish the job. We’ll have help, of course, but still…” “We get the fun part,” Rodriguez finished with a grin. Gomez nodded, staring down at the rainforest below. “I wonder what this place is for…?” he asked himself, mainly. He’d find out soon, he knew. That much was for sure. ____________________ Tekki saw the shapes as he leapt over a log, and the sight startled him enough that he tripped on the log and sprawled himself out on the ground. His weapon jarred on the ground and fired a three round burst that killed an unfortunate frog. The sound of the gun scared the hell out of some of the other sentries. One raised his gun and fired a few useless rounds up at the retreating shapes. He would have continued to shoot had the patrol chief not grabbed his arm. Ammo was expensive, after all. The Breaker listened to their story when they returned with quiet acceptance. So, someone was interested in their little project, eh? Mushroom demanded that he find out what was going on, and that suited him just fine. This was, after all, another one of his specialties. |