“Nothing.” They were speeding through the outside rank of dock buildings now. Yuri checked the map Boris was spraying over his tarsus lenses. The bioreactor complex and the airship hangars were positioned at opposite ends of the docks. A small purple star was shining in one of the reactor complex buildings—number seven, an old three-level warehouse and office block, which was registered to an independent maintenance company. Drones were orbiting it, keeping a safe half-kilometer distance. Through the heavy rain, their visual image was very low resolution. Normally they would release a flock of microdrones—biomechanical flies that would swarm through the target area, sending back detailed information via secure comlaser. But Lucius hadn’t launched them; this rain would knock them out of the air.
“They’ll know something’s wrong,” Jessika said. “Our Turing’s taken solnet offline across the complex.”
“She’s right,” Lucius said. “We can’t do a stealth insertion. This is entry by the front door, all alarms screaming.”
“Very likely,” Yuri said grimly. “So I’ll need some body armor.”
Lucius handed a bag over without comment. It contained a bulky jacket and thick overtrousers along with a lightweight helmet. “You as well,” Lucius said, holding another bag out to Jessika.
“I’m not going in there,” she said indignantly.
“Of course not; you don’t have any combat training, for one. But if we do wind up in a firefight, I’d like you to have some protection. We don’t know what sort of weapons Baptiste’s people are carrying.”
Jessika glanced suspiciously at Yuri, who was doing his best not to smirk. The bodywork of the vehicle they were riding in was practically nothing but kinetic armor.
“Thank you, Lucius,” she said dispassionately. “That’s very considerate.”
The tactical squad deployed in the same fashion as they had at Fedress Meadows, their vehicles encircling the building and coming to a halt. This time, when the paramilitaries climbed out, they were accompanied by a group of combat support drones: thick, dark disks with squat muzzles protruding from their rim, flying nimbly above the squad.
Yuri followed Lucius outside. Warm rain hit him full on, immediately soaking around the edge of his armor jacket. A thick unbroken layer of black clouds had closed off the sky, obscuring Thestias and its halo of golden sunlight.
“I guess God isn’t going to be watching over us,” Yuri muttered. He pulled down the enhanced vision visor. The squad’s tactical grid sprayed across it, highlighting the locations of individual team members in green. The interior of the building was laid out for him, with the ground floor divided into three large spaces and the upper two floors split into a maze of rooms.
“Are you in the network?” he asked Boris as they walked behind eight paramilitaries who closed on the front door.
“The G7Turing has acquired limited access.” A smattering of purple stars appeared, most of them on the first floor. “These are the heavy processing cores.” Yellow circles materialized. “And these are the main power drains.”
“Three overlaps,” Yuri said. “Okay, Lucius, those three are our primary targets. Take them first, lock them down. You are authorized to use appropriate force.”
“You heard the man,” Lucius said. He snapped out orders to individual four-man squads and assigned each a target.
The combat drones shot forward. A camera on one showed Yuri somebody racing away from the entrance lobby, sprinting deeper into the building.
“Take the doors out,” Lucius ordered.
A drone fired its scattergun at the glass doors, sending crystalline splinters slamming into the lobby. Twelve drones swooped in, followed by the paramilitaries.
“Yuri,” Poi Li said quietly. “Stay safe.”
“Working on that.”
Yuri had decided on checking the biggest power drain point first. Whatever creepy procedure Baptiste was performing on his snatched victims, it would need power. He pulled out his semiautomatic pistol and headed up the stairs behind Lucius. His visor was showing him an array of images as the rest of the team smashed their way into the building. Drones zoomed along corridors, scanning for gang members.
He’d almost reached the second-floor landing when the shooting started. Gang members armed with machine pistols came crashing out of rooms, raking the corridors with full-magazine discharges, then snapping in reloads to carry on the carnage. Whatever weapons they’d fabricated had an astonishing fire rate, shredding walls, floors, and ceilings in chaotic shrapnel clouds. Drones returned fire, sending out a barrage of thunderburst grenades. They exploded in incandescent blooms, the blast waves shattering windows and tearing doors off their hinges. The drones advanced, electromagnetic rifles slamming super-velocity rounds toward any hostile their sensors detected. Gang members reeled back, diving for cover. Paramilitaries crept after them, directing the drones’ fire, sometimes opening fire themselves.