It was year 6015 AD, which was 3010 years after the Seventh World War that made the human migration to Mars necessary. The settlements were originally scientific and the laboratories that were created at the end of 2030 were then expanded with residential and support sectors. Because of the harsh Martian environment and the limited expanse of the artificial atmosphere anchored at the Mars-base Science and Development Department (MaSceDD) buildings, most of the cities were built underground.
Many of the residential settlements were underground, yes. But there were also those who for the sake of convenience and proximity to their work stations aboveground lived on-surface. It meant that there were residential surface sectors exposed to the elements and insecurity from other threats. That was because than automated patrol droids going overhead every few days, there weren’t many security protocols that covered anyone outside the City, that underground Metropolis.
There were many who built families outside the rigid genes-based procreation rules of the City. And thus children born in the surface sectors grew knowing of more things than what science and order were taught inside the confines of the underground Metropolis. These children wished for more to be aware of the state of living outside the Cities and for the status quo to change. And so the emergence of a new revolution began.
__________Unmarked Van Interior__________
>>> Access Error 01-002: You are trying to access a public communications module.
>>> This is not a personal terminal, cease access attempt.
>>> Running introduced module… (100%)
>>> Rebooting Login Protocol… (ok)
…
>>> Access Granted. Welcome to R025S39 Public Communications Module.
>>> Please upload broadcast. If you don’t have a hologram video prepared, proceed to automate mode and enter text for the transmission. This sector’s automated communications voice-AI will broadcast your message.
>>> Upload complete… (100%)
>>> Broadcast start: 6012:MA3:23:12:08:34
“Hola, tinola!!! Welcome to another fun-filled broadcast from Mirage! Wait, let me adjust the mic… Yeah! If there is a red message flashing on your holo across our pretty faces, ignore it. The oldies are just jealous of our awesomeness, hahahaha!!!”
Seeing his freckled face covered with a mask over the eyes dominating the screen, the boy grinned with a combination of triumph and mischief. Still ways from his 16th turning, his young visage and voice would have fooled the viewers if not for the fact that he had just hacked into a well-protected broadcast terminal—remotely. He moved back from the camera and saw in the screen how his bright red hair flared in the dim lighting around him. He was comfortable in his retro clothes, despite being in the awkward gangly physique phase. Even though most of his friends liked to make their move outside, the boy was proud of the machines that were blinking around him. They were transmission devices and other knickknacks that took him (and his friends) so long to collect. He was from a low-resource settlement and had been fascinated with the equipment for most of his life and now he got to use the lot them for a pretty cool reason.
He looked at the camera again, giving a cheeky smile. His only regret was the warning message superimposed on the running video. The boy swore to get better just to trick the system out of recognizing the hacked broadcast.
“Since I’m sure you’re already burning your eyes on my fabulous ginger-ness, I’ll take you over to where the action is. Just as promised, we—the Mirage, will take over one particularly fortress-ish Department man’s house. Because hey, we do ask questions and today, the question is: What the heck does an archival manager need armed guards for? He was supposed to just deal with birth, death and population reports in his day job, right?”
“But the mystery will be no more! We’ll have it all out for you. Our rather sneaky little scouts found out that the said Department man houses some of the more recent documentation chips for active projects in his house. Are those the ones that required the guards? Why would these supposed public records need guardsmen? We’ll know in a bit. Just stay tuned!!!”
>>> Live Video Transmission… (online)
“Are we online yet, Rolf?”
Multiple profile monitoring screens were open in another screen in front of the boy, presumably called Rolf. Each one featured live footage as well as health status indicators for each members of what he called in the transmission as the Mirage.
“Yeah, stop yapping. I just finished the intro. All-green, guys. I’ve uploaded info packs into your comm sets as well, so please proceed as planned. Egbert John would chew us all out again if he had to deal with unplanned clean-up.”
A crackle signaled a transmission from another member and Rolf grinned. The neon pink and mint green-garbed female from the recent transmission rolled her eyes at the camera as a deep twanging voice joined the conversation.
“Stop saying shit about me, hacka-boy. Do that the day you people stop needing me to save your reckless asses from your own mistakes.”
“Let the kiddies have their fun E.J. They’re good at what they do, that’s all that matters.”
The footage with the active audio showed a large, athletic looking young man hefting a machine gun as he slinked along the shaded fences. He had numerous packs strapped on his body. There was even an over-large cylinder that was reminiscent of Earth-age bazookas. In one other camera footage of a darker location, a lean young man with sun-bleached brown hair was sprawled across concrete cradling a powerful-looking old-school rifle. Beside him was a blonde with pink highlights fiddling with a larger tube that was actually a spotter scope.
All the people that can be seen in Rolf’s screens were young, observably below twenty years of age. But their young faces and casual (and in the pink-highlights girl’s case, downright fashionable) clothes clashed with the military grade weapons that they carried with seemingly practiced ease. Just the fact that a fifteen-ish youngster like Rolf was hacking public broadcast terminals was already telling. It was obvious that they were a paramilitary group of some sort. And from the live transmission that they were streaming, it becomes apparent that they weren’t hiding anything from the world. In fact, it seemed they wanted every human in the Martian settlements to know what they were doing and whatever it was they find.
__________Outside, near target structure__________
“I need a downlink of the structure’s blueprints Rolf-boy.”
The mint-clothed girl spoke once again.
“Open up the third image file I have gotcha, Cam. It’s a bit old though so you’ll have to excuse discrepancies. If you can find me a switchboard and snick in a portable there, I could get you better directions, gorgeous.”
The girl hitched her cut-off automatic over her shoulder and checked her watch again. It had more hidden applications than just keeping time. But at the moment it was serving its purpose.
“Nope. No time for that, Rolf. We’re popping in, swiping the chips then getting out as fast as we can. You said so yourself. The security in this residence was too high and personnel are going to get in the way.”
“Just double-checking, Cam-cham.”
That’s when they heard the first explosion and a shouted, “Here we go!” from their comm terminals.
“Oh shit, Boomer!”
“Stop it, you old man!”
Every member can be seen scramble to a jog through the blasted fences. The buff young man from before was leading the way with an ecstatic look on his face. The girl, Cam, was grumbling about reckless guys just as the grumpy sniper and his spotter scrambled into position complaining about not following the plan—again.
The sniper, Egbert John, turned to the girl with him and sighed before turning to tip his head, putting his eye up to his rifle’s scope. His forefinger caressed the trigger as he sighted the first security personnel coming in to investigate the breach. His pulse elevated like every time he sighted a live target. But he had buzzer bullets in his rifle, used for raid control. They were designed to emit a short burst of high voltage that can incapacitate a large human for up to half an hour.
Used to his best friend’s antics involving explosives, E.J. murmured quietly as he began shooting.
“Just like usual. Remind me to smack him upside his head later, Sissy Mae.”
The girl, who had her eyes trained to her scopes and her mind whirring to calculate shots, giggled and reached out to give her companion’s arm a squeeze for affirmation.
“Fifty to your right, two degrees down and wind’s at thirty, if you please.”
Shots were ringing out. The footage continued to stream live. Mirage was confident of this operation’s success. Rolf was making live humorous commentary as he monitored everyone from the transport shuttle they hid from view near their target’s house. Bodies clambered on, shots still rang on.
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