The house would have caught no one's attention. One more ancient Victorian, with its porch sagging and paint peeling from the siding, it displayed the occasional plastic-and-tape windowpane as well. Pieces of its gingerbread were missing, giving it a gapped-toothed look. It was just one more house, in an area of old houses, providing cheap rooming near the university.
Inside, the people sprawled on couches, chairs and the floor in the main room of the house were as nondescript as the house. A mixture of nationalities, they blended into the university population easily. In fact, three of them were registered there as students, although under false names. In the past couple of weeks, they had moved easily about the university and the town, rarely drawing second glances from anyone.
At this time, their attention was focused on a whiteboard, bearing a number of abbreviations and names, with lines drawn between them in cross-reference. Beside it stood a woman. Of medium-height, she had brown hair and Caucasian features. There was a rigidity in both her posture and her expression, as though she tolerated no deviation or distraction from her goals, be it from outside or within her being.
Her expression was stern, as she looked over the group, engaged in a mental checklist of her own. There was Oden, her tall Nordic second-in-command. Their pilots, Elnoo, big and husky, his background a mystery; and Minette, a petite Frenchwoman with blatant blue and red streaks in her braided hair. Gaia, exotic and Gypsy-looking; and Rob, lanky and nervous, who–along with Oden–were their computer experts. Jorge, Mustaf, Chang, and Brad, their muscle, along with Elnoo. They all looked at her expectantly.
"We have been given a go," she said, "The mission will execute as planned." She paused, knowing they had all studied their parts, but wanting to ensure that nothing was left to chance. "Elnoo will dock at the Armed Services Platform, while Minette and Jorge dock at the International Space Station. Use the emergency access code to override the hatch controls." She looked at the others, each in turn. "Once in, Mustaf, Elnoo, Gaia, and I will secure the control center. Chang secures the armory, and Brad will round up any other personnel. There is a storage area on the lower level which can be used as a holding cell."
She paused, glancing around the room. "Gaia will use an EM pulse to disable the Orbital Systems Network." Her gaze returned to Minette and Jorge. "Wait for it. From there, Elnoo will take Oden and Rob to the broadcast satellite, and return himself. By then, we will have established our communications network."
"Vicky, are you sure we'll be able to start up our network?" asked Rob, brushing long straight hair out his eyes, a habit which had begun to irritate her, "We still haven't been able to gauge the strength of the pulse we'd get off ASP's system. It could disrupt systems longer than we anticipate."
"Why?" The woman's voice was heavy with suspicion as well as disapproval.
"ASP's system has a protected area that we haven't been able to break," said Oden. "It affects our calculations of exactly how strong a pulse we'll need."
"If the pulse is too strong, we won't be able to get our network up in time?" she frowned, her assessment of the problem quick and to the point.
"That's right."
"It is possible," said Gaia, in her low musical voice, "That once in ASP's systems, we can better identify the area in question, and finalize the calculations there." She shrugged expressively. "It is–how you say–our best shot."
"Our other option, Vickers," interjected Brad, in his flat Midwestern accent, "is to wait until we break that system." He shifted in his chair, unable to find a comfortable position for his big frame. "That way we'd be sure it'd work."
Vicky scowled, both at the suggestion and the nickname. The phone call last night had left her no options, not if she wanted to continue her career with this organization. The caller–a man she knew only as "General," had been quite specific with his instructions. "We will stay with the current time line," she said, "Timing for our takeover of ASP is critical, and our chances are better if most of their personnel are asleep."
The man shrugged. "Then we've got to go with Gaia's suggestion," he said. "Unless you have a better idea."
"Are you questioning me?" Vicky asked, impatiently.
Brad raised an eyebrow, his expression slightly mocking, but said nothing.
"Because if you are," she continued, irritation spilling out in her voice, "You can walk right now." Her hand dropped, feeling the weight of the small handgun she wore habitually. And the General's instructions last night had left her no option, even if she had wanted one.
The room's atmosphere thickened as they stared levelly at each other. The rest of the group remained still, watching. The only other movement was from Minette, playing nervously with her tri-coloured braid.
"Is questioning so bad?" Mustaf broke in, ever the peacemaker, "if we find weak areas before they are tested?"
Stomping down on her temper, Vicky responded automatically, "No." She collected herself, willing this irritation down. "No, of course not. If it identifies or strengthens weak points, questioning is not bad." She looked at Brad, her gaze slightly challenging. "But if it rips holes where there were none, it weakens the plan as a whole." She winced, hearing the pun in her words, but decided to ignore it. "Any further questions?" she asked the group.
There were none. "There we go at . . ." she consulted her watch, ". . . 1345."