Chapter 53: The Stinger Directive
The directive from the Comms Tower lay on the council table like a live grenade. It was the first real test of the Consortium's military framework—a logical, coordinated response to a verified threat. But its origin, Courier's coldly efficient signature, made the logic feel like a trap.
Kaeli's warning echoed in the silent room. He'll try to control it again.
"We have to respond," Uche said, breaking the tension. "The Garage is under our protection now. If we let their supply lines get shredded, the Consortium dies before it's born."
"It's a good plan," Ngozi admitted, tracing the projected Stinger migration path on the map. Her voice was clinical, but her eyes were sharp. "Aerial distraction exploits their sensory aggression. Ground suppression with the Lances is the most efficient way to neutralize a swarm. It's exactly what the Consortium was designed to do."
"Or it's a way for Courier to see the Lance in action on his terms," Emeka countered, his gaze fixed on the map. "To study its weaknesses. To put our people and his in a joint operation where he can assess our coordination, our discipline."
"Does it matter?" Ngozi asked, looking up. "If the threat is real, and the solution is sound, his motives are secondary. The system works or it doesn't."
It was Sade's philosophy, now living in his sister's mouth. Emeka felt a surge of frustration. They were becoming what they had fought—people who saw actions and outcomes, not hearts and loyalties.
"Kaeli," Emeka said, turning to where she stood by the window, apart from the table. "Your people have seen these Stingers. Can the Tower's drones really distract them?"
Kaeli's expression was unreadable. "Yes. They're drawn to high-pitched noise and rapid movement. Drones would be perfect bait. The plan is tactically solid." She paused, her eyes meeting his. "Which is what makes it dangerous. Courier doesn't make moves that only accomplish one thing. While you're watching the Stingers, he'll be watching you. Every order you give, every hesitation your teams show. This isn't just a defense. It's an audit."
Her assessment confirmed his fear. But she'd also just validated the plan's tactical merit. They were trapped between necessary action and strategic vulnerability.
"We do it," Emeka decided, the weight of command settling like stone in his gut. "But we run our own audit. Ngozi, I want you to monitor the Comms Tower's data feed during the op. Look for any secondary signals, any scanning frequencies aimed at our Lances that aren't part of the coordination protocol. Uche, you're on comms with the Garage, make sure their leaders feel supported, not just managed. Kaeli," he said, finally addressing her directly. "Your team has mobility and experience. I want you running independent reconnaissance on the periphery. Watch the watchers. If Courier has any assets in the field he hasn't declared, I want to know."
It was a plan of layered distrust, a reflection of their new reality. They would cooperate, but they would not be blind.
The Comms Tower – The Audit Begins
In the Tower, Courier reviewed the Athenaeum's confirmed response. It was prompt and professional. But the appended notes—the assignment of Ngozi to data monitoring, the deployment of the Watch for "perimeter security"—were telling. They were expecting his treachery.
A flicker of something like respect crossed his face. Okafor was learning. Not to be a warrior, but to be a statesman. A paranoid, capable one.
"Proceed with Operation Windfall," he said to Hacker. "Full sensor suite on the Athenaeum field units. I want stress levels, comms latency, target acquisition speed. And keep a channel open to Sade. I want her analysis of their operational cohesion in real time."
Sade, now nominally a "neutral systems architect," observed from her isolated terminal. The dance was beginning. The Consortium was not a static entity; it was a dynamic system of checks, balances, and perpetual suspicion. It was, in its own way, beautifully efficient.
The operation unfolded with a chilling, precise rhythm. As dusk painted the sky, the Comms Tower's modified drones shot into the air over the scrubland, their rotors screaming at a frequency that set teeth on edge. From the east, a dark, shimmering cloud rose to meet them—the Stinger swarm, each creature the size of a large bird, with iridescent wings and a needle-like proboscis that could punch through leather.
As the drones led the shrieking swarm on a twisting chase, the Athenaeum's ground team moved in. Two Lance projectors, mounted on heavy trucks, powered up. There was no cheering this time, only grim focus. The pearlescent beams lanced out, not in continuous streams, but in rapid, pulsed bursts. Where they struck, Stingers didn't freeze and crumble like the Reaper; they simply dropped from the sky like stones, their intricate flight systems permanently nullified.
It was a brutal, efficient slaughter.
From her scout bike a kilometer away, Kaeli watched through binoculars. She saw the lethal efficiency of the Lances. She also saw what Emeka had feared: a second, smaller drone, unmarked, hovering at the edge of the conflict, its sensor array clearly trained not on the Stingers, but on the Athenaeum's trucks.
"Emeka, confirm," her voice crackled over the secure channel. "You have an uninvited guest. One small eye in the sky, watching your people work. Not a Tower drone. Something… older. Military grade."
In the Athenaeum command truck, Emeka's jaw tightened. He'd expected Courier to use Tower assets. This was something else. A private tool.
"Ngozi, can you tag it? Jam it?"
"Jamming it would disrupt the whole operation," Ngozi's voice came back, tight with concentration. "But I've piggybacked a tracer on its signal. It's feeding data back to a relay point… not the Tower. A mobile location. Northwest."
Courier wasn't just auditing. He was running a side operation. Keeping secrets already.
"Leave it," Emeka ordered, his voice cold. "Let him watch. And let him see that we see him." He opened the Consortium command channel. "Courier. Our perimeter scouts have identified an unregistered surveillance asset in the operational zone. Please advise. We wouldn't want any… friendly fire incidents."
There was a deliberate pause on the line, long enough to be an admission. Then Courier's voice, utterly calm: "Acknowledged. A legacy drone from a previous patrol. It must have reactivated autonomously. We'll deactivate it. Good work on the Stingers. Swarm is 80% neutralized."
The lie was smooth, insulting in its transparency. The operation was a tactical success. The Stinger threat was ended. But the real battle, the silent war of audits and hidden drones, had just scored its first, unambiguous point. There were no allies in the Consortium. Only temporary collaborators with separate ledgers. As the last Stingers fell, Emeka knew Kaeli had been right. The fragile peace was just a more complex kind of war.