“Nova,” Aron called out.
[Yes, sir?]
“Can you reprogram the surveillance nanites to search for any explosive devices and disarm them?” he asked.
[Yes. They’ve already spread through the entire city, so detection will be easy. But they’ll have to gather to disarm, won’t that mean we don’t have real-time eyes on all of the targets?] Nova said.
“It depends on how many there are. If there’s just a few of them, we can call the bomb squad for disposal. If there are a lot, we’ll have to use the nanites.”
[Understood, sir. I’ve reprogrammed them to search for explosive devices, the new scan will take a little over four minutes.]
Aron nodded and turned over on his back, gazing up at the sky above him. It was daytime, so he couldn’t see the stars, but Nova helpfully overlaid them on his vision, knowing his habits as she did.
The next few minutes passed in silence, then Nova said, [The scan is complete. The nanites found four explosives—one on the I-40/I-27 interchange, one at the airport, one at Carver Elementary School, and one at Amarillo College.]
“Have you informed the police to send out disposal experts?”
[Yes, sir.]
“Good. Retask the nanites for surveillance and monitoring again.”
[Right away, sir.]
......
ARES Reaper Command.
Athena was rather satisfied with the empire’s armed forces. Not only was each and every trooper multiple cuts above any military ever created in the history of humanity, but she even had the best special forces under her. Every single reaper was trained to a high standard, and all of them could quite easily be called a one-man army. They were proficient in every aspect of warfare, from tactics and strategy all the way down to individual skills.
Thus, each and every one of them was a highly qualified sniper. The only thing that the official snipers in each team had that the others didn’t was a personality profile that fit being a sniping specialist. Just like the demolitions experts all enjoyed the spectacle of big booms, sniping specialists enjoyed the thrill of the hunt and taking down high-value targets unaware.
So when every single team—barring the one that was still on cleanup duty in Washington—got the same orders to pick up sniper kits and move out, they logged out of the simulation, moved to the quartermaster, and picked up rifles that were already set to their personal specifications. There was no hesitation or nervousness in their actions; it was clear that, to them, it was just another Tuesday.
The teams neatly filed down the station’s arms to the docking ring, jogging to their individual stealth shuttles in single file and peeling away from the group as each team reached their shuttle.
Once they were loaded into their shuttles, they leaned back in their seats and triggered the augmented reality briefing.
[There are over two thousand targets that require simultaneous precision takedowns currently incognito in Amarillo, Texas. Lethal means only, no saving heads for later headbagging. These targets are likely to be programmed by the progenitor cult and could take hostile actions at any time without warning. They are all awakened, and none of them are in the database, nor are they imperial citizens....]
The briefing continued for a few minutes before Athena asked, [Any questions?]
One of the reapers raised his hand, and the others in his team chuckled at him. He sheepishly put his hand down and said, “Yes, ma’am, I have a question.”
[Go ahead, corporal.]
“Since they’re all awakeners, doesn’t that mean our targets are... kids?”
[Technically, yes. But also no. They’re targets that have been programmed by the cult to attack innocent civilians. Will that be a problem for you, corporal?] Athena said.
“No, ma’am,” the corporal replied, though he was obviously in a shit mood at the thought of carrying out a wholesale slaughter on teenagers.
After that question was asked, every single reaper, all three thousand of them, felt the weight of what they were about to do settle on their shoulders. Taking down the targets in front of them today meant saving hundreds of thousands, if not millions of lives tomorrow.
It was the cruel calculus of war, a lesson that was only now being brought home in their minds.
......
Somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico.
The EV Beowulf was headed toward the coast of Texas at full speed, expecting to meet a cargo of stealth shuttles carrying reaper teams along the way.
The massive supercarriers were still fulfilling their duties as patrol craft for the empire, and the Beowulf was just the one that happened to be nearest to North America when the bell rang. Before the empire had taken its initial shape, the ten supercarriers had each been assigned a specific patrol area, but now all ten of them had the entire planet as their patrol areas, a measure that came about because the world had just gotten smaller, in a metaphorical sense.
“How long until we pick up our cargo, Wulf?” the captain asked.
[Eight minutes, thirty-seven seconds, captain,] Wulf, the ship’s AI, answered.
“Very well, maintain course and speed. Inform higher that we’re en route and on target.”
[Yes, captain.]
[Yes, captain.]
The landing operation a few minutes later went without issue, and soon, the Beowulf reached Amarillo and the reapers spread out over its flight deck. Each was assigned a target marked with tracking nanites. A few hundred of them had obscured, or otherwise unreachable targets, so they switched out their pulse rifles for charge pistols and monomolecular-edged combat knives, then leaped off the deck of the Beowulf, engaging their optical stealth systems as they fell to ground.
Their strikes would have to be done in a much more up close and personal fashion.
Within minutes, all of the reapers were in position and ready to strike. All they needed was the final go/no-go order from Aron himself.
......
[Everyone is in position, sir. They’re just waiting on your orders,] Nova informed Aron.
“Then I guess I shouldn’t disappoint them,” Aron said, then closed his eyes and fell from the sky. He oriented himself head down and fixed his eyes on the Fisk building, where Rick was currently in his penthouse office.
The freefall from the stratosphere took three minutes, during which time Aron split his focus and crafted two equally intricate runic circles. One of them, he called the ‘phasing’ rune. When activated, it would allow him, and anything within three inches of him, to phase through solid matter.
The other, he called the ‘disintegration’ rune. It would disintegrate anything and everything around it that wasn’t protected by a mana shield.
Aron reached the window of Rick’s office. “Begin the operation,” he ordered, then stepped through the sealed window.
Over two thousand gunshots rang out from kilometers away as he walked up behind Rick, whose consciousness was currently absent from his body, and said, “This is a much easier ending than you deserve, you terrorist scum.” Then he rested the palm of his hand on the top of Rick’s head and triggered the disintegration rune.
Rick’s body broke down layer by layer, from the top of his skull. His hair went first, followed by his skin, then what little fat he had on his body, his eyeballs.... Soon, Rick had completely been reduced to nothingness.
Aron nodded in satisfaction, then walked to the center of the building, a disintegration rune around him ensuring that everything vanished when he came into contact with it. Soon, he reached the center of the building and closed his eyes.
The disintegration rune around him rapidly grew until it overlapped the edges of the building itself, and Aron let himself freefall.
The Fisk building, and all of the people within, were reduced to complete nothingness in the time it took him to fall from the top floor to the bottommost subbasement.
[Sir, we have a problem,] Nova told him when he reached the ground.
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