“You idiot!” he roared, gripping the cyborg by his neck. Not that he had the strength or leverage to actually hurt the moron, but it communicated his displeasure adequately.

“Do you have any idea what you have done?” he shouted, “Do you have even the slightest clue? That was my number one tester! He was the furthest along, the best chance we had of making actionable discoveries about the alien technology! Without him, we’re back to square one. Our arcology, the arcologies in general, cannot exist in a world where we aren’t at the top of the technology food chain!”

“If all that is true, sir,” the Enforcer spoke calmly, despite the situation, “then how much worse would it be if the enemy gained control of him instead?”

His rage simmered. He stepped away from the source of his anger. One insane raid, the most suicidally brazen thing he’s ever seen, and suddenly his only possible route to salvage this project was dead. He didn’t even know who the enemy was.

“I hope you know you’ve probably just completed their objective for them,” he said, nodding toward the chair which still held the body of his employee.

“Orders, sir,” said the obstinate cyborg. Rage and frustration fought for dominance. He could have probably saved his employee, if only he’d prioritized better when giving orders. The adrenaline was making him sloppy. Frustration and just a hint of grief welled up. Will had had such potential. A bit of a late bloomer, but definitely management material. What a pointless waste.

Another explosion rang through the walls, dousing his anger. If he didn’t get moving, he wasn’t going to make it through this either.

“Stay here and delay them,” he spat, “Guard this place with your life.”

The Enforcer nodded, removed something from his belt and tossed it. A cylinder with a grey tab. He caught it, his interface identifying it as a riot control foam grenade, along with a short bit of instruction text for using it to seal the escape passage.

A small, vicious part of him took some comfort knowing that the Enforcer would almost certainly be killed before the raid was over. Though it was questionable how human the militarized cyborgs were, after their conversion. He had heard rumors that they were linked to the Enforcer command and control AI in some fundamental way, more a hivemind than an organization.

Closing the hidden panel behind him, he set the grenade down, pulled the tab, and started up the stairs. He glanced back when he heard the hiss, seeing the foam expanding to seal the entryway with a solid plug of the rubbery foam.

As he climbed, he thought. By the time he caught up with the injured being helped up the stairs, a skeleton of a plan was coming together. Once the month was over, he’d lose all of his personnel with keys. He had a very small window to act. From now to the time his aircraft landed, he had de facto control of any and all surveillance records. He knew that his remaining people’s keys could still be removed, and it stood to reason that they’d have some way of transferring them. If there weren’t such a function, how would someone give away a key they found inside the game?

He mentally cataloged the wounded as he climbed. He picked out three that he knew had families. The payout to the next of kin for dying in a raid like this would set them up pretty well. Once R&D got its hands on them… Well, the less said about that, the better. This was a mercy, all things considered.

He’d be censured harshly for losing so many priceless assets in the retreat, but that was already in the cards, even without the extra three deaths. He should be able to cash in his remaining influence to get his pick of the ‘punishment postings’. Maybe the Cabo de Hornos outpost? That was about as far from civilization as it got. Or Greenland? It was nearer, but medical there was nearly up to arcology standards. And it’d be far easier to land that one. It was a notorious punishment posting, instead of just being obscure and remote. It would be the end of his family’s comfortable lifestyle. It would be the end for anyone else’s career.

But with three keys, totally off the books? In a posting far from interference? He could rebuild. Will had shown him how. Building something a second time was always easier, and he had all the blueprints.

He’d drag his nation, kicking and screaming, into this strange new future - even if he had to go rogue to do it.

And then? Then he’d punish everyone responsible for this day.