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 Way of the Warrior  (20 ratings)by Igor Raffaele Page 6 of 10 As I wallk along in between the two rows of computers, open windows gaping into strange flickering lands, I notice that Yokonosa's terminal is reporting a disconcerning lack of activity. If you were inclined to a more simplistic view of life, you could say that I am the good guy and Yokonosa is one of the arch villains I have to fight. He is the Yakuza director in this block, and we know each other very well. Our paths crossed many a time before, and I received my first beating in this block at the hands of his hirelings. He acquired the scar crossing his forehead when I let him know I did not appreciate his welcome. I keep tabs on his headquarters' cybernet more out of affection than to really know what he's up to. He is going to be executed one day, and it's going to be my hand driving the blade, and I am going to be very put out with whoever tries to take that pleasure away from me. The readout flashes the "no intrusions" icon, and there is no log of any transactions. Two things make me very suspicions. To start with nothing has gone wrong all day down there. Yokonosa's headquarters are the butt of dozens of cyberintrusions a day, most of which fail against the state of the art hardware ammassed in that squat tower of his. And no transactions? This is the Yakuza's block director's site, and I rather doubt he sat looking at the holotrees in his parlour all day long, without swindling or killing at least a few hundred people. Just to confirm some of my growing suspicions, I start a manual search of today's business logs at the Yakuza main tower, and find more than enough to prove that there is something wrong with the monitor that's been keeping an eye on old Yokonosa's affairs. A very smooth intrusion in the tower's security systems, registered as no more than the closing of the business transactions for the day, about three hours ago. An incredibly sophisticated blanketing net cast around all of his house's external sensors, to make sure that the various security departments old Yoko's got scattered across the extensive grounds of his headquarters never get a hint of any physical intrusion. The principle is simple but of incredibly complex actuation at the same time. Completely blinding the old bat's human and cybernetic guards is a big job. The whole thing reminds me of an ancient movie we used to watch on our nights off at the Temple, where a very astute thief fed a pre-recorded tape of the location he was burglaring directly to the security's guard monitors. None of his actions showed on the tape, and he could timely have his way with various trasures, having effectively blinded the security of the place without actually making them aware of the fact that they were sitting ducks. Only I get the feeling that I am dealing with a very specialized kind of thief, the kind that takes something that cannot be replaced, not even by the most advanced technologies. I have come across that particular blanketing configuration before, and only one group can afford that kind of processor power and skill: the Demon Shadow, an ancient Japanese assassin sect. Swearing under my breath, I start to put my armour back on. Luckily I had not taken the chest plate nor the leg augmenters and plates off yet, and so it is only a matter of seconds before I can hop back into my hovercar's cockpit. Before the door hisses shut behind me, I have already typed the destination coordinates into the navigational computer. I activate all emergency codes, and terminate all security protocols. It means it only takes me four minutes, twenty years off whatever I have left to live, and a dozen near collisions with other vehicles to get to the park like grounds of Yokonosa's headquarters' outer perimeter. Resisting an urge to bomb the place from the air, I force myself to survey the blocky outer wall, with its regularly spaced guard towers and electified fence. The whole compound is big enough for five housing complexes. The trees and grass in its vast recreational gardens and the iridescent domes topping most buildings contrast with the crowded misery of its surroundings. I grind my teeth and keep my finger from the fusion bomb trigger as I silently correct myself: there would be misery and poverty if Jokonosa had left any people in the building surrounding his home. I still see red mist every time I think of the press gangs that vacated those buildings, often by murdering every family in each room, all for the old Japanese man's paranoid sense of security. He did not trust occupied buildings around him, and so he just vacated them. The empty houses left to slowly fall apart without any maintenance, and the only construction of any notice, apart from the guard houses scattered in the gardens, is his squat 300 storey tower, his home and the officious headquarters for the Yakuza operations in this block. After a few minutes, I still see no disturbances, and the guards are definitely not on any alert. My invisible friend has not made his move yet, and the security services are still obviously unaware of the fact that their electronic sensors and alarms have been blindfolded. I breathe a little more easily and decide it might be time to start thinking. Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Igor Raffaele, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines. |
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