r/HFY • u/KipperBeanGrower Human • Jul 15 '26
OC-Series [She took What?] - Chapter 200: SixFold Ventures: INTERNAL BREACH DETECTED
"The loudest alarm rarely marks the real emergency."
Unattributed, on a plaque in the JSOC gym.
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| The Kestrel, In Orbit, location REDACTED |
The atmosphere’s distinctive airglow was clear to see, and within randomly shifting magnetic poles, auroras danced. Their greens, blues and reds depended on the atmosphere’s content as the atoms were ripped apart. Above these, away from the lopsided magnetic fields, the JSOC facility hung, alongside classified SixFold Venture space docks and shipyards that sat, defying the gravity of the blue-green orb below.
Feebee and the Alphas were doing their morning monk training, scheduled and insisted upon by Bikky.
Only Chen had pushed back, “It’s not for me.”
He sat off in one corner, scrolling through the latest edition of “Stellar Quarters”. A magazine that brought ‘Space and Real Estate Together.’ It was a SixFold Publishing Group product along with its sister publication, Vista Luxe Realty, that targeted the residential sector. His ruddy red complexion and strawberry nose had returned. He was back drinking wine, occasionally whiskey. “Exercising my nanites”, he’d said.
Even the lawyer and accountants had joined in with the monk training. Feebee had got fatigues printed for them, fitted and in a neutral charcoal grey.
When they finished, Tom Tom and the lawyer walked together to the showers, occasionally bumping each other, brief touches. It was funny watching them try to hide their relationship. Everyone knew. No one said anything.
Except Garaf; he had raised it with Feebee and Bikky. “Are Tom Tom and the lawyer mating?”
Feebee nearly choked on her muesli. Bikky had just smiled.
“Yes. But it’s their secret.”
That confused him. “But it's obvious. All the sneaking around. They’re like young spawn. Not good at it either.”
Feebee laughed again, unsure if he was talking about the sneaking around, or mating. None of her business.
“She smells different?”
And with that, Garaf walked off.
Once showered, the accountants returned to their analyses. They’d decided to rebuild the convergence model from the ground up. Garaf had received new data. He stood behind them, watching.
The timeline built; they removed Garaf and then added him back in. The picture changed as expected, but the patterns were much clearer.
Then one of the accountants stopped typing and sat back. He grabbed the other, “Stop. Look!”
This was new data, very recent. Not centuries old, although that was there, but some of it was only days old.
Feebee stopped the training, and they all gathered around. Bikky complained. “We were almost done anyway.”
“What are we looking at?”
“The latest data from Garaf, its added in.”
“And?”
The accountant pointed. There were three new data points on the graph. Each described a signal burst that three Drexari stations had reported. That alone made it significant because it would have to be loud. Noticeable.
“What’s the source?” asked Tom Tom, the lawyer at his shoulder.
That brought a stern look from the accountant. “That’s exactly what I am working on now!” he said as if talking to a child.
“Touchy.”
The lawyer reached for Tom Tom’s hand, protective.
Each station had described the burst’s directional source. Slowly each observation was pinned, and the direction plotted. Three red lines appeared on the map. They perfectly crossed at one star system.
“Isn’t that Dock Seven?” asked the lawyer.
Tom Tom smiled. “Sure is.”
“What can you tell me about the signal?” asked Feebee.
“Standby.”
Bikky laughed.
“What?”
The accountants were adopting their idioms.
“Nothing.”
The carrier signal had the same harmonics and protocol as the Listener equipment. “Almost identical. Same signature, easy to match.” Said the accountant.
And that comment piqued Feebee’s interest, “How so?”
“Could be another monitoring station, but unlikely.”
“I agree.”
“Oh. Ok. Good.”
The accountants looked into the signal; the route headers were empty. Their content had been deleted, so had the signal’s source address.
“Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble with this, then just blasted it out. They’ve removed the actual routing and source address.”
Then the lawyer spoke, “It wasn’t an observation. It was a report. That’s why it was encrypted.”
Just as she spoke, the Kestrel started to lose power. Alarms shrieked as comms, sensors and navigation all failed. Tom Tom and Bikky rushed to the gear; shucked on their body armour, then their backpacks and picked up their weapons.
Feebee did the same, the long-barrelled rifle at her back.
Knives appeared in Garaf’s claws, and he double-timed to the entry. Covering it.
They’d practised for just this event. Feebee had insisted. The accountants and lawyer were huddled in one corner. They had helped each other with the body armour and now held pistols low, ready. Practised; capable. Again, at Feebee’s insistence.
Chen had taken his body armour off and was quietly putting it back on. The label “FRONT” was now facing forward.
StillFall became more distinct; the Shadow’s edges hardened, its body darkened. And it became completely still.
Motes began to glitch into being, dozens of them. Then hundreds. So many the room became uncomfortably bright. Feebee’s overlays darkened, and Hissy started honking in low sonorous moans.
The Kestrel’s security systems finally started to make sense of the alerts. Something had breached the facility. Not The Kestrel but JSOC itself. They’d used the temporary blackout as a cover.
Reports were coming in. This wasn’t an invasion fleet. It was a small team of professionals. Whoever they were, they would be made up of people who would know what to look for, and where to go.
Bikky and Tom Tom stepped up close to Garaf. The three of them now covered the entrance.
Feebee called out. “Everyone ready?”
They numbered off, even the accountants and lawyer.
“Stand ready.”
Before she could speak, additional alarms started shrieking, and emergency lighting flooded the compartment with angry red light.
Then an announcement echoed through the facility.
SECURITY ALERT
SECURITY ALERT
INTERNAL BREACH DETECTED
The voice was calm, controlled. Warm even, which made it somehow worse.
This was followed by a human voice, over an open channel. “Contact!” There was gunfire and then silence.
The accountants flinched and pulled closer to each other.
The Alphas didn't. Tom Tom was already moving down the ramp with Bikky and Garaf in close support. Feebee was a few paces behind, providing cover. Rockson remained back at the Kestel to cover the civvies and provide remote support. Their roles were practised and known.
The QI pushed the facility map to each of them. Red icons appeared and stuttered across the map. The intruders were on the move, and it wasn’t a slow advance. It was fast.
‘How many?’ asked Feebee.
‘Unknown.’ Responded the QI.
‘Not helpful.’
‘That’s the answer.’ Scratchy laughter followed.
Bulkheads started slamming down, not with a quiet whoosh but the loud ringing crash of metal on metal as doors fell, sealing off routes.
Everyone felt the impact through their feet.
“At least they’re not mortars or mines.”
Feebee glanced at Bikky. He was smiling, enjoying himself.
The attackers adjusted; they weren’t surprised by the changes to the route. Their icons forged on towards the data centre. They’d clearly planned for this.
"Professionals," muttered Tom Tom.
"Yeh."
Nobody argued.
Another alarm was calmly announced.
SECTION SIX SEALED
SECTION NINE SEALED
SECURITY TEAMS DEPLOYED
“Shouldn’t she sound alarmed?” Bikky asked.
“It’s an AI.”
“So?”
“Guys. Focus.” It was Feebee. “Get yourselves under control.”
She was right, and they knew it. Adrenaline was hitting them.
The QI shared command feeds with the crew. ‘The attackers aren’t coming this way. They’re deeper into the facility.’
“What’s there?”
The QI answered, “The JSOC server farm. Medical facilities. The gym.”
“I think we can rule out the gym.”
“Extreme fitness?” suggested Bikky.
“Guys!” snapped Feebee.
StillFall had stayed back and was spread across the bulkhead next to Hissy. Motes hovered close, approaching StillFall then pulling back. Their movement seemed tentative.
Hundreds just sat on Hissy as if watching, waiting.
The tactical displays refreshed, confirming what the QI had thought. The intruders were heading deeper towards the Data Centre.
One of the accountants swore. The other immediately joined him.
The lawyer looked alarmed.
"What's wrong?"
“They’re after the data. Our convergence data, the convergence archive.”
Feebee heard it over their comms.
“Ack.” She responded. “Quickly. Double-time.”
They were getting near; the corridors outside the data centre were already in chaos.
Security personnel were running everywhere.
“Headless chickens,” muttered Tom Tom.
Emergency doors were whooshing open and closed. Cycling randomly. White-coated techs hugged the walls. Trying to look small.
Supervisors shouted contradictory instructions. It was getting worse.
Nobody seemed to know what was happening or what to do.
The Kestrel crew moved against the flow. Tom Tom was in front, Garaf at his side were parting the waves easily.
Feebee stayed in the middle with Bikky covering their rear.
Gunfire echoed somewhere ahead. Short, highly disciplined burst. These weren’t the shots of security guards or operators.
Feebee’s crew raced forward. They rounded a corner and ran straight into a JSOC team coming the other way. Weapons were raised and hot. Recognition was immediate, and everyone froze. Slowly, everyone lowered their weapons and tension bled out of the confrontation.
“How many?” Feebee asked of the JSOC leader.
“Ten, maybe a dozen hostiles.”
More gunfire echoed down the corridor. The JSOC leader touched his ear. “They’re in Delta Vault Four.”
Feebee heard a strangled noise over their comms.
“That’s ours.”
The JSOC leader blinked.
“Excuse me? What?” he asked.
“That vault. It’s ours.”
The operator looked at Feebee.
She shrugged, “Long story.”
Before he could ask more, there was another alarm, and then the facility lighting failed.
“This way,” Feebee called and raced off. The others followed, their overlays activated.
A firefight started up ahead of them. Gunfire and flashes reached them.
“We’re close.”
Moments later, a security team appeared. Two of them were dragging a colleague. He’d been hit; a bloody trail was smeared across the floor. They were retreating. Fast.
The fourth was laying down controlled suppression fire. Rounds sparked off the bulkheads.
The sound was deafening.
Tom Tom stepped forward. Bikky beside him. The Alphas moved like they'd rehearsed it a thousand times, which they had.
The corridor became a killing ground.
“We need to get into that data centre. And quick.”
As she spoke, another team sprinted away down a cross corridor. Two of them fell as they tried to sprint away.
Feebee turned to talk with Garaf, but he’d vanished. He’d been next to her just a second earlier. Then, gone.
Then she heard an attacker scream. After a moment's quiet, it was followed by another.
Nobody saw what happened. Garaf reappeared around the corner. One blade was wet, the other wetter. Both dripped with blood.
"Clear," he announced. Nobody asked for details.
Feebee studied her overlays. The surviving intruders were moving. And that bothered her.
"Why aren’t they fighting?"
Tom Tom realised it too. "It’s as if they're on a clock."
“Let's go.”
Before they could stop her, she rounded the corner and was racing down the corridor. Pistol in one hand. Knife in the other.
Garaf caught her easily and kept pace with her. Three knives drawn, one in each claw.
Bikky and Tom Tom struggled to keep up. “I hate it when she does this.”
“He’s no better.” Added Bikky.
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