The Exodus Project’s massive production facility loomed on the black horizon. Having dropped the looter off at an earlier exit, Hector had politely commandeered his shuttle and headed toward the outskirts of New London. Since exiting the covered maglev highway, he had seen no sign of the XLS. Fortunately, his shuttle had a life support system, which meant he could leave the confines of the maglev tube and travel down the desolate highway toward the Exodus Project’s assembly center. As he approached the production facility he eased the shuttle over to the side of the road.
A single, manned security checkpoint stood on the outskirts of the property—one way in, one way out. On either side of the checkpoint’s entry gate a high chain link fence branched out to surround the facility. Barbed wire wound around the top of the fence. It was all old technology. Nothing flashy, but still effective as a ruse. A vital Union production facility disguised as a civilian operation.
Hector knew better. He searched the area above the assembly center. Slight variations in light patterns glided through space. Light from distant stars distorted as the cloaked aircraft flew circular patterns. The unpiloted drones were almost invisible, but not quite. On the ground, hidden under a thin layer of moon dust, heavy cannons mounted on turrets lay in waiting. At the main entrance, a lunar rover armed with a missile launcher and side-mounted turrets sat silent, but ready. Additional troops casually approached the gate and fanned out along the perimeter.
The fake civilian operation was increasing its security force.
“This is all wrong,” Hector muttered to himself, “It’s not gonna be an external assault…” grabbed his datapad, “…and they can’t do any molecular transfers into the facility itself…” and started flipping through the blueprints. “…so, how are they gonna get in?”
A knock on his window. An armed guard in an unmarked tactical suit stood outside. To anyone who had ever served in the Union, it was obvious that the guard was a trained soldier. His equipment was state of the art. He was not a civilian security guard. He motioned for Hector to engage the shuttle’s speaker system, and then spoke, “Some kind of trouble, sir?”
Hector peered through the rearview monitor. A lunar rover had parked behind him. Three more soldiers wielding assault rifles surrounded his shuttle. He tried a smile. “No, I, uh, I think I just made a wrong turn back there.”
The soldier’s hand moved to the assault rifle hanging from his shoulder. “Please place your hands on your head, Mr. Salazar.”
“What? I–”
“Hands on your head, now!”
Hector had no choice. Without a tactical suit he couldn’t exit the vehicle. He was trapped. As he placed his hands behind his head one of the soldiers slapped a circular device onto the side of the shuttle. All the vehicle’s power, except the life support system, shut off. The shuttle had just become a jail cell.
“Mr. Salazar, you’re under arrest.”
