“Don’t worry. I’m fine
with it. Besides, you have a lot more experience with all this
cyberware inside us.”
“Us? They augmented you?”
“Yep.” He held up a hand, showing the palm
contacts. “Amazing stuff. My cyberware is only set to ten percent
right now, to keep me from jumping off the ground and banging my
head on the ceiling by mistake. They’ll ramp it up over time as I
get trained. Takes some getting used to.”
Repeth laughed. “Welcome to another
transformation.” She looked over and waved at Jackson through the
window. “Might as well continue with the presentation.”
The tech nodded and came back in. “Of course.
Through here.” He let the way to the next room, a big place with
more bustling techs and many workbenches.
“Here’s your armor. With your increased
strength, it should be no problem to carry. It’s based on the Space
Marine design, but with no need to be airtight, we were able to add
a few things…”
-9-
The residence of the Prime Minister of Russia
was a relatively modest affair by international standards, but
then, that’s all it was – a residence, in a Moscow suburb
convenient to the Kremlin. Unlike the US White House – and more
like Britain’s 10 Downing Street – its basic purpose was simply to
provide living quarters for the country’s leader, rather than as a
seat of government.
Even so it was well protected. Its walls were
thick, its fences high and spiked. Sensors and cameras and guards
inside and out strengthened its defenses, and in a pinch, there was
a panic room and a separate tunnel system beneath, to reinforce or
escape. Special police parked on every corner of the neighborhood
and patrolled every street.
Its defenses seemed impenetrable.
At around midnight, a very large, hunchbacked
man in a high-collared trench coat walked down the sidewalk in
front of a stately mansion two blocks over, heading toward the
first checkpoint.
Idly the policeman on duty there watched as
he approached, then sighed with relief when the figure turned and
entered the large house’s grounds. He went back to watching the
football game carried live from South America, happy not to miss
one moment. After all, he had a hundred rubles riding on it.
Inside the mansion’s fence, the man in the
trench coat carefully pushed the iron gate back against its stop,
leaving it in a semblance of normalcy. The bit of squealing and
grinding as he had ripped its locking plate apart had gone
unnoticed beneath the rumble and whistle of a train passing half a
kilometer away.
Instead of walking up to the house’s well-lit
front door, he slipped around the side, shielded from the next
residence by high walls and abundant plants. The wealthy and
connected of Moscow liked their privacy and security, as evidenced
by the bars on the windows above his head.
A growling preceded scrabbling paws rounding
the house’s back corner, and two heavy dogs of uncertain breed
rushed at the intruder with coughing growls. Training them to
attack instead of alarm turned out to be a mistake on their owners’
part.
The man seized each dog by the throat and,
one-handed, lifted them up to half-dangle from his hands, their
hind paws touching the ground. Growling turned to pitiful whining
before both were rendered unconscious by the powerful grips cutting
off the blood supply to their brains.
It wasn’t mercy that saved the dogs’ lives;
rather, it was a desire for stealth. Dead animals might be
discovered later, and he only needed a moment to move through the
area.
Tossing them unconscious under some bushes,
the man continued onward along the side of the mansion. One window
above showed dim light, but its heavy curtains were drawn tight and
he ignored it. Soon he reached the rear garden and climbed its tall
back wall by the simple expedient of gripping its protruding stones
with his fingertips. Not even bothering to plant his toes, he
climbed up the four-meter barrier like a two-limbed
with it. Besides, you have a lot more experience with all this
cyberware inside us.”
“Us? They augmented you?”
“Yep.” He held up a hand, showing the palm
contacts. “Amazing stuff. My cyberware is only set to ten percent
right now, to keep me from jumping off the ground and banging my
head on the ceiling by mistake. They’ll ramp it up over time as I
get trained. Takes some getting used to.”
Repeth laughed. “Welcome to another
transformation.” She looked over and waved at Jackson through the
window. “Might as well continue with the presentation.”
The tech nodded and came back in. “Of course.
Through here.” He let the way to the next room, a big place with
more bustling techs and many workbenches.
“Here’s your armor. With your increased
strength, it should be no problem to carry. It’s based on the Space
Marine design, but with no need to be airtight, we were able to add
a few things…”
-9-
The residence of the Prime Minister of Russia
was a relatively modest affair by international standards, but
then, that’s all it was – a residence, in a Moscow suburb
convenient to the Kremlin. Unlike the US White House – and more
like Britain’s 10 Downing Street – its basic purpose was simply to
provide living quarters for the country’s leader, rather than as a
seat of government.
Even so it was well protected. Its walls were
thick, its fences high and spiked. Sensors and cameras and guards
inside and out strengthened its defenses, and in a pinch, there was
a panic room and a separate tunnel system beneath, to reinforce or
escape. Special police parked on every corner of the neighborhood
and patrolled every street.
Its defenses seemed impenetrable.
At around midnight, a very large, hunchbacked
man in a high-collared trench coat walked down the sidewalk in
front of a stately mansion two blocks over, heading toward the
first checkpoint.
Idly the policeman on duty there watched as
he approached, then sighed with relief when the figure turned and
entered the large house’s grounds. He went back to watching the
football game carried live from South America, happy not to miss
one moment. After all, he had a hundred rubles riding on it.
Inside the mansion’s fence, the man in the
trench coat carefully pushed the iron gate back against its stop,
leaving it in a semblance of normalcy. The bit of squealing and
grinding as he had ripped its locking plate apart had gone
unnoticed beneath the rumble and whistle of a train passing half a
kilometer away.
Instead of walking up to the house’s well-lit
front door, he slipped around the side, shielded from the next
residence by high walls and abundant plants. The wealthy and
connected of Moscow liked their privacy and security, as evidenced
by the bars on the windows above his head.
A growling preceded scrabbling paws rounding
the house’s back corner, and two heavy dogs of uncertain breed
rushed at the intruder with coughing growls. Training them to
attack instead of alarm turned out to be a mistake on their owners’
part.
The man seized each dog by the throat and,
one-handed, lifted them up to half-dangle from his hands, their
hind paws touching the ground. Growling turned to pitiful whining
before both were rendered unconscious by the powerful grips cutting
off the blood supply to their brains.
It wasn’t mercy that saved the dogs’ lives;
rather, it was a desire for stealth. Dead animals might be
discovered later, and he only needed a moment to move through the
area.
Tossing them unconscious under some bushes,
the man continued onward along the side of the mansion. One window
above showed dim light, but its heavy curtains were drawn tight and
he ignored it. Soon he reached the rear garden and climbed its tall
back wall by the simple expedient of gripping its protruding stones
with his fingertips. Not even bothering to plant his toes, he
climbed up the four-meter barrier like a two-limbed
Similar Books
