Mission Report Part (1/?)Hijinx on the Hank Reardon (Part One)Operators:
Primary: Nikita Taylor
Support: Erik Heller
Available Gear:
WhiteFalcon! Covert Entry Kit x1
All standard issue gear. If you think you need Plate carriers and shotguns though, you should reread this brief.
PIRs:
1) What security measures exist that prevent bringing operational gear onto the train?
2) What security measures may hinder operations on the train itself?
3) What are the SOPs for train crew in case of emergency?
4) When and where is each scheduled stop, and how common are delays/alterations to this schedule?
5) What is the layout of the train, and where can we expect the target to be?
The team have the budget cleared to book similar tickets to the target to travel on the days prior to the operation, so that first hand intelligence can be gathered and plans discreetly walked through. Similarly, a cautious green light is given for accessing non-public sections of the train or stations if this will help inform on the PIRs.
A potential plan follows. Operators are expected to modify/amend/discard as necessary.
The team acquires/clones a staff key to access private train carriages, and a suitable train steward uniform. The target is identified pre-boarding and covertly tailed to his seat. Nikita Taylor, dressed as a steward, distracts the target and attempts to pickpocket for the thumb drive. Simultaneously, Erik Heller will steal any baggage. Once possession of the thumb drive in confirmed, the team exfiltrates separately at the next available station. Yeet Cannons are conceal-carried by both Operators as a worst case backup.
Erik holds back a laugh as Nikita emerges in her stewardess uniform. She awkwardly twirls to show off the disguise, "Got it from the same uniform supplier. They said they usually don't go this small though?"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but it's cute in a uniform fetish kinda way."
Nikita scowls and points at the sidearm in her white leather shoulder holster, "Need I point out this feature of the stewardess uniform?"
"Hey, hey, boss lady. Just playing around. ...So how do you want to do this dry run?"
Having already rode one of the Transcontinental John Galt Lines from her brief time at the Cranbrook Academy, Nikita hopes this route isn't too different and lays out the situation thusly. The Hank Reardon is a commuter rail train connecting the various settlements on the planet of Rivendell. Per Charlie Lively, Junior Agent Tim Webster will be boarding at a spaceport station, and will be disembarking at the third stop, Crystal City. At Crystal City Station, he will be met by other AMR-aligned security agents who will escort him to the AMR vault.
Erik nods, "Too much security and surveillance at either station, and once he links up with his buds, it's game over... But there's still an upside."
"How?"
"We get to find out how good a lawyer Sam is."
***
In a cramped train restroom, Nikita stuffs her civilian clothes into a bag while trying not to bang her elbows any further. (She always had her doubts about people claiming to join the "200 Mile Per Hour Club" in one of these, and now she's certain such claims were total puffery.) After a lengthy talk with Erik the Blackbagger, they agreed trying to cross gate security in a crew uniform, but without supporting credentials was too risky. With neither of your operators looking particularly conspicuous, they both passed through the gate with concealed operational gear without triggering a secondary inspection.
Elsewhere aboard the speeding Hank Reardon, Erik ambles his way along, non-chalantly casing the layout and emergency procedures of the train. While he had never ridden on any of the Transcontinental John Galt Lines, Erik had expected more of an upscale experience. Despite being on Rivendell, Hank Reardon is a utilitarian mass transit system that wouldn't be too far out of place in the Bezos or Chung-Hwa Planetary Systems. Most of the train is cramped coach cars with "first-come, first-serve" seating shuttling working-class folks across the planet. Tired clerks, maids, and secretaries idly doom-scroll on their smartphones during their regular commute between the gilded districts of their employers and wherever else they could find an affordable studio apartment.
Despite what Mr. Thiel insists, this was not the original plan. Like a surprising amount of things in the New Worlds, the John Galt Lines started as a very public in-joke among the Founders. The Musk and Bezos families having heavily hyped dysfunctional transport systems back on the Old Earth, the John Galt Lines on Rivendell were a not too subtle attempt for Mr. Thiel to casually build something both of his old peers couldn't.
"Defeating traffic is the ultimate boss battle. Even the most powerful humans in the world cannot defeat traffic."--Elon Musk
But a train? Really? Not exactly the kind of disruptive moon shot the Founders Fund triumphed. But, no, the John Galt Lines wouldn't be the collectivist mass transit of yore. Instead, each passenger car would be privately owned, with individual passengers making short-term leasing arrangements via AirBnB.
This worked as intended, until owners realized just how unrestricted their rights were. With 24 hour access, owners began converting their cars into sleeper cars with extended "overnight" leasing. Consumer demand for affordable housing turned these cars into weekly rate motels. Some of the more enterprising owners even managed to convert their cars entirely into Japanese-stle coffin housing. With no formal policing on the private property, gangs organized on some of the more high density cars. "Slum tenements on rails" was not what Mr. Thiel had envisioned, and the property values around train stations fell, as no respectable property owner would want the unwashed masses merely a turnstile away.
But how to reboot the business? Private owners may have owned the cars, but Mr. Thiel still owned the rails. He raised "engine fees" by orders of magnitude, claiming the initial fee schedule was merely a trial rate. However, those owners who no longer wanted to ride his rails could sell back their cars at a depreciated valuation. With little alternative, the owners folded.
Thus the John Galt Lines of present day were re-engineered as a narrowly defined commuter rail, cleared of all passengers at the end of the line. Private cars do exist, but they're tightly regulated to stay within defined roles, and must allow full access to crew for "safety" purposes. In addition to armed crew on the train itself, each station was built-up as armed checkpoints to assuage property owner NIMBY fears. And as a final nail in the coffin, firearms were restricted to baggage only.
"Still, it ain't as bad as Chung-Hwa," Erik thinks to himself as he passes into a dining car. Knowing their customer well, Erik settles in with a surprisingly cheap coffee and a donut.
***
"Paging Emory G. Halliwell. Again, Emory G. Halliwell, on the courtesy phone, please.""Man, that's a WASPy name if I ever heard one," Nikita thinks to herself as she patrols the train in uniform. After an hour, the dry run is going well so far. She'd seen some other crew members in passing, and none of them pointed out her lack of a badge."
After a few minutes a 20-something male steward approaches her, "Hey, you're going in the wrong direction."
"Um, sorry?"
"Didn't you hear the page?"
"No? ...I was busy talking to a passenger."
"You didn't get the push notice to your phone? Or did IT screw that up again?"
"Gorram IT. Never get anything right."
"Anyhow, another accident to cleanup in one of the sleeper cabins. You can just follow me."
"Oh, thanks. I'm new here."
The steward eyes her up and down as they walk, "Oh hey, where'd your badge go?"
"My bad. I think I left it on my other uniform."
"Oh, gotta be careful with that. I once put my badge through the laundry and wrecked it. Management really got pissy about printing a new one, but what do you expect?"
"Management, they're the worst."
"Tell me about it... You probably saw my badge already, but my name is Kyle by the way..."
"Nikki. Nice to meet you, Kyle," your operator replies with a weak smile.
"You know, I'm kinda surprised security even let you on without your badge. I guess with a cute smile like that, you can get anywhere. Of course, I only say that if you're still allowed to compliment a pretty girl at work."
Nikita laughs awkwardly in response.
Kyle congratulates himself internally, "She laughed at my joke. I'm in."
***
"New girl, you get the legs," barks the female train conductor.
Your operator winces as she and Kyle lift a dead teenager into a bodybag.
"I tell ya, I've been working this Line so long, I got a sixth sense for trouble aboard. Knew there was something going on in this cabin. Sure enough, there was," she mutters.
After they finish zipping shut the bodybag, they grimly begin collecting up empty Green Owl cans.
"Gorram hophead teenagers. Think this is bad, though? Back in the day, they used to stick their damn heads out the window, hootin' and hollarin' on whatever trip they were on," she gripes.
As Kyle takes the wet vac to the chunky puddles of vomit, she comments further, "But with the windows screwed shut, at least we find these idiots in one piece now. Don't have to scavenge for skull fragments at the end of the day."
Wrapping up their work, she matter of factly congratulates her two employees, "Good job, looks like you got it all. Kyle, get that body down to the reefer car. New girl, get the ozone generator from Storage Container Charlie and bring it back here."
Kyle speaks for Nikita, "Sorry Doreen, but she left her badge at home."
She looks at your operator incredulously, "And security didn't sign you out a temp badge at the station?"
"No... were they supposed to?"
Doreen sighs in agony, "They have your biometrics. They could've ran your irises, and handed you a temp badge for the day. Would've taken them two gorram seconds. Those lazy sacks of shit."
"Security, they're the worst," your operator responds.
Doreen rolls her eyes, "Tell me about it. Here, take my badge for now. I'm going to be stuck here securing the cabin anyways. Try not to lose my badge between here and the container, okay?"
Your operator is sincerely grateful, "Thank you, Ma'am. I promise I'll take great care of your badge."
***
Erik the Blackbagger looks over the badge after he cracks open the WhiteFalcon! key cloner kit, "Doreen? Who the hell names their kid that?"
Nikita shrugs in the cramped container car, "Less talking, more key cloning. I'm on borrowed time here... literally."
"Fair enough, just making banter," Erik fumbles through the kit wishing to himself he had taken more time to familiarize himself with it.
Slotting the card, Erik blinks in disbelief, "Error Code 22? That mean anything to you?"
Nikita scoffs, "Why you asking me? I thought this was your thing?"
"Just asking... No worries, I got this."
"Good, because I have to find out what an ozone generator looks like."
"Oh, that's easy. Just look for a generator, but one that makes ozone."
"Man, that was so funny I forgot to laugh. Seriously though, any clue what I'm looking for?"
"Kinda busy here-"
"Knock, knock," Kyle calls out playfully. "Anybody home?"
***