Dick’s plan was simple… simple like a knife driven into flesh: go in fast, stay on task, and keep moving.
Galatea had provided them with all the information she could glean about the movements of the security forces and the casino’s defenses. This information was being relayed to Cicada’s ocular implants and to a monocular reticule Dick wore over his eye, giving them a head’s up view of a simplified security map showing the location of all personnel, and most direct route to their goal.
Cicada led the way in. Not just because she was the one with the metal skeleton and well-shielded cybernetic organs, but because she was the only one of them not on the Rebellion’s crew manifest. With three crew members in custody, the casino’s security forces would be on high alert for any of the rest of them. The visual response scanners in the guards’ visors would be keyed to their profiles. So, as Dick had explained to the others, this was the only situation in which a hulking cyborg carrying a handheld minirocket launcher would result in a less definitive response from security.
It would probably only be a moment’s hesitation, but when you had a hulking cyborg carrying a handheld minirocket launcher on your side, a moment could last a surprisingly long time.
Behind Cicada came Dick and then the Nick Bradley, though Handy was technically immediately behind Cicada in the single file.
“We’ll mostly encounter stunner beams at first,” Dick reminded them as they moved in towards one of the smaller entrances of The Meadows. “When the shooting starts in earnest, I’ll do as much damage as I can before they switch to something more damaging, but then I’ll be obliged to take cover.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay back on the ship, Unger?” Cicada asked mockingly.
“I assure you, I’ll find a way to make myself useful no matter the circumstances,” Dick said. “Now remember what I said… the outer layers of security will be in ‘public interface’ mode, not ’shoot to kill’ mode.
“Hi, I’m looking for the buffet,” Cicada said as herself, Dick, and a third of Nick Bradley approached a checkpoint with four armored Hospitality Ambassadors
“The Meadows is closed for emergency renovations,” one of the guards said. “Please return to the hub you came from and…”
That was all he got out, as Cicada raised her GSMR pistol and moved it in a quick, spasmodic seeming gesture. Four bullet-sized projectiles zipped out of it, each of them exploding in the air in front of one of the guards… a painful but non-lethal application of force that left all four of them knocked down, stunned, and in need of both armor repairs and medical attention.
“Grab that,” Dick said, pointing to the one stun rifle that had escaped destruction as he stepped over its owner. Nick Bradley scooped it up. “Don’t try to use it,” Dick said. “Ditch it somewhere. I just don’t want to have to deal with it on the way back out.”
“We might have had a surer fix for that,” Cicada said. “When we start taking return fire, mercy’s going to be a luxury we can ill-afford.”
“Don’t think of it as a luxury,” Dick said. “Think of it as an expensive investment that will pay off in the long run… the earlier we resort to lethal force, the sooner they’ll realize just how much of a threat we are.”
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