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He leaned against the workstation now, taking a few breaths, and then he started to make a call on his phone, but before he could, a buzzing in his ear meant he was receiving one. “Yeah?”
“Sir! It’s Cruz, security leader for ground floor. I can’t reach Señor Wren. We are under attack!”
The New Zealand native was confused. “You are security where? La Finca or the lab?”
“No, sir. I’m in the Lourdes building. Two Greyhounds and six Hornets passed me about two minutes ago, heading for the northwest rear loading door, and there has been shooting and explosions from that direction, but now it has stopped.”
“Okay, stay where you are and let us know what you see.”
“But…if they are coming this way…there are only four of us here.”
“Then you will just have to do your best.” Anton disconnected the call, and then Gareth Wren came stumbling through the cage door, running all alone. His left eye and part of his forehead were deeply bruised, his lower lip fat and bleeding, his face covered in sweat.
His black polo shirt had been ripped at the right shoulder.
Before the man could speak, Anton yelled at him. “They’re upstairs! Here, in the building!”
“Shit! That’s a different force than the one we encountered in the tunnel. Has Cyrus deployed the new platforms?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Wren made a call to the Assembly Room. “What’s happening down there?”
The technician, an Argentine programmer on the platform integration team, replied, “Three teams have left assembly via the east stairwell. Another twenty ground units and twice that many Hornets are ready and preparing to be deployed, and the rest are still in fabrication.”
Anton looked to Wren. “We don’t know how many enemy we’re up against, do we?”
Gareth Wren shook his head. “The Cuban military hasn’t reported seeing anything outside, so it couldn’t have been too many forces that snuck in the buildings.”
“Good,” Anton said. “Our platforms in the buildings will handle it, we just have to keep them out of the Cluster Room.”
Wren nodded and looked around. There were only two Sentries here and they were the older models, built by Massachusetts Automation and carrying only pistols. The Chinese-manufactured models that had just arrived were far superior. “We need more security.” He brought his phone to his face and tapped a button. A man answered immediately, and Wren heard gunfire over the line.
“Yes?”
“It’s Wren.”
“Wren,” the man said; his accent was Hispanic. “There are three of us left up here.”
“How many enemy?”
“A lot!”
“How many, damn you?”
“More than twelve.” Wren thought a moment. Two forces were converging on his position. One below, from the tunnel to La Finca, and the other from above, at ground level. “Retreat to the Cluster Room.”
The man sounded as if he’d been handed a chance at salvation. “Thank you, sir!” Wren hung up and now looked to Anton. “You can direct Cyrus, right?”
“I…I can override mission parameters, change his rules of engagement. But why?”
“How do you do it?”
“Via voice interface. I just talk into my earpiece.”
“We need a dozen Greyhounds in here, protecting the cluster.”
Anton shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. A firefight inside the Cluster Room could destroy everything!”
