Burning Suns: Conflagration, Issue 3 - Prior Planning Prevents...

 

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JENNIFER

999 ATA - Berlin, Earth, Modeus System, Assembly Space

“Mind if I join you?”

Jen looked up from her breakfast to see Thaddeus Jones standing beside the table. “Not at all,” she replied, nudging the chair opposite her out with one foot.

Thud eased himself gingerly down into the seat, as though he was afraid the flimsy furniture would collapse under his heavily muscled bulk. “You picked a real classy place for us, Skipper,” he teased.

Jen snorted. “I’m on a budget. We don’t get paid till the job’s done. Next time, we can stay at the Ritz. Until then, low key and low cost are my watchwords. If you don’t like it, you can bankroll your own upgrade.”

“I don’t dislike it that much. And the Ritz is in Paris, dumbass.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” Jen retorted, but she found herself smiling in spite of the insult. “So did you come down here to eat, or just to piss me off?”

“I can multitask,” Thud shrugged, signalling the waitress. “Yeah, can I get a coffee and some of those little white sausages with the pretzels? Hold the mustard, though—that shit is nasty.”

The waitress nodded curtly. “One Bavarian breakfast, no mustard, and one coffee. Anything more for you?” she asked Jen sourly.

“Just some more coffee, thanks,” Jen requested. Once the woman had gone, she leaned back in her chair, studying her companion in more detail. Since making contact with him yesterday she hadn’t had much opportunity to get reacquainted between putting the Fortune into long-stay docking, meeting up with Wai-Mei Xox in Hong Kong, and then getting to Berlin and doing a few hours private recon in the evening.

He’d put on a little weight from what she remembered, once-hard muscle starting to run to fat around his waist, and his haircut was distinctly scruffier than the high-and-tight he’d worn in the Corps, the tight black curls making him look a little fuzzy around the edges. He still favoured sleeveless t-shirts that showed off the sculpted muscles of his arms, and the definition there remained sharp, proclaiming loudly that even unfrocked, Master Sergeant Thaddeus Jones was not a man to cross lightly.

He let her look for a moment, then favoured her with his best shit-eating grin, teeth flashing white against his dark skin. “Like what you see, Bronwen?”

“I liked the view better when it had a little less sag round the belly, fella,” Jen remarked. “You better lay off the beer and the donuts or you’re gonna have a gut the size of Ganymede before you hit thirty.”

Thud affected a pained wince. “Damn, that’s cold. Three years no see, and all you’ve got for me is a food plan?”

Jen chuckled softly, spread her hands to concede the point. “Yeah, I’m sorry, that was a low blow. And I like what I see just fine. It’s good to see you again, Thud. I’ve missed you.”

She had missed him, missed having a kindred spirit to share her thoughts with, missed the bull sessions and the drinking and the laughs, missed having someone at her back who’d really have her back without an angle or a price tag. For all that she’d met and worked with a lot of people since leaving the military, Thud remained perhaps the only person she really considered a friend.

Jones smiled, a more genuine, pleased expression. “I missed you too, kiddo. The Corps was boring without you, and…” He broke off as the waitress returned with their order, banging the plate and the mugs down with a minimum of grace and stalking off again before they could even respond. “What put the bug up her ass?”

Jen shrugged. “Hard to tell. Maybe her daddy makes the mustard.”

Thud snorted with laughter. “Be about my luck,” he noted. “Anyway, this job…”

“Yeah?”

“You got a plan?”

Jennifer did her best to look offended. “Please. Of course I have a plan. When have you known me not to have a plan?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Thud mugged. “I seem to recall any number of wild-ass improvisations back in the day. Mostly involving getting drunk or making booty calls.”

“Fair point,” Jen conceded wryly, “but I try not to do that in my professional life. It’s not generally helpful for getting contracts completed.”

“Damn, Jen. Did you go and get all respectable on me?”

“Hardly. I just don’t have the fall-back of free chow and an assigned bunk these days. Can’t afford to screw up.”

“Yeah.” Thud looked away for a moment, and Jen cursed her thoughtlessness.

“Aw, shit, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

“Forget it,” Thud cut her off brusquely. “It’s my problem, not yours.”

Jen opened her mouth to protest but he shook his head to forestall her, bullishly stubborn as ever. “Just leave it, Bronwen. I ain’t in the mood for a post-mortem of my fuck-ups, OK?”

Jen nodded reluctantly. “OK. It’s your business, I’m not gonna stick my nose in it. But if you want to talk about it, I’m around.”

Thud’s irritation dissipated slightly, and he relaxed a little. “Yeah, shit, I know. I just… I’m still a little mad at myself. I’ll get over it eventually, I suppose.” He nodded decisively. “So, there’s a plan,” he recapped. “I take it that it’s more sophisticated than walk in with guns blazing, blow the safe, and walk out again with the swag?”

“A bit,” Jen agreed. “C’mon, eat up, then we can get the others and brainstorm a little.”

“I thought you said you had a plan?”

“I do, but there’s no reason to assume it can’t be improved upon.”

“I knew it,” Thud sighed theatrically. “You’re gonna just make this up as you go, aren’t you?”

“Trust me, Thud,” Jen grinned. “Trust me.”

***

Jen had called the crew in as they walked back to her room, and by the time the two of them arrived the rest of the team were waiting for them. Solinas was lounging on the bed, Honold and Wai-Mei were chatting quietly by the window, and Dolos was sitting at the desk, her expression almost vacant as she ran some internal process or other.

“All right, boys and girls, let’s get to work,” Jen called the room to order, beckoning them to gather round as she placed her portable holoemitter on the cheap aluminium desk in front of the cyborg.

Wai-Mei jerked the curtains closed before crossing the room, shrugging wryly as Jen cocked an eyebrow. “Can’t hurt,” she offered, running her hand through her spiky shock of purple-dyed hair.

Jen nodded. “Whatever makes you comfortable. All right, we’ve been contracted to acquire an archaeological artefact of significant value for a private collector. The value of the job in terms of payment for the contract is two million credits, and there’s a cut of three hundred grand for each of you, as agreed.”

“Nice work if you can get it,” Honold said with a grin.

“Sure is,” Thud agreed.

“What is the target?” Dolos enquired crisply.

Jen activated the holoemitter and brought up an image of the artefact, a dull, blueish-grey object about the size of a basketball that resembled a blunt, three-taloned claw. “This thing. It’s an ancient templar weapon of some kind.”

“What does it do?” Solinas asked, frowning thoughtfully at the display.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask, and frankly, I’m not sure our employer would have known even if I had.” Jen shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. We’re not being paid to figure out how it works or what it does, just to acquire it.”

“And you’re really comfortable with doing that?”

Jen scowled at him. “Yes, I am. And if you’re not, there’s the fucking door.” Jen pointed for emphasis. “I don’t have the time or the inclination to indulge in an ethics discussion of every single decision I make. That’s the third time you’ve questioned my motives, pal, and it’ll be the last. We are stealing this templar weapon and delivering it to my contact. Either you are on board with that, right here and right now, or you can piss off home.”

“Cool your thrusters, Bronwen,” Solinas retorted irritably. “I’ve got no problem with the ethics, I just want to know if the fucking thing is going to blow up in our faces if we move it.”

“That is extremely unlikely,” Dolos offered. “It is a well-known fact that templar weaponry can only be operated by templars. It is a failsafe that has eluded all attempts to override it in the combined history of the Assembly. It is doubtful that any one of us possesses the ability to activate it, or that the act of moving it from a secure storage location would have any negative repercussions for your health and safety.”

“Well, I’m reassured, seeing as I didn’t know that well-known fact,” Thud mugged with a grin. “Thanks, Dolos.”

The cyborg didn’t deign to reply, and Solinas rolled his eyes in exasperation, but nodded. “OK, fine. But for the record, don’t ever question my commitment again, Bronwen.”

“As long as you don’t give me cause to,” Jen shot back, meeting his glare with a glower of her own.

Wai-Mei cleared her throat pointedly. “We are planning to steal this thing rather than just argue about stealing it, right?”

Jen nodded shortly. “Right. Thank you.” She pulled up an image of the floor plan of the museum alongside the one of the artefact. “This is where it’s kept: the Pergamon Museum. It’s on an island in the middle of the city, close to lots of public transport, and always busy with tourists, so there’s plenty of cover and potential for escape routes.”

“I like the sound of that,” Wai-Mei approved.

Jen highlighted a few of the exits. “These main exits are probably our best bet in the event that we abort,” she suggested. “Lots of people milling around, looking in the gift shops and so on.”

“You anticipating a fuck-up?” Thud asked.

“No, but you know what they say—prior planning prevents piss-poor performance. I want all our bases covered and everyone familiar with their exit strategies before we even think about rolling with this.”

“That seems prudent,” Dolos remarked dryly, “given the legality of our endeavour.”

“Indeed,” Jen agreed. “OK, so…” she zoomed in on the main hall at the back of the building, “this is the usual display location for the artefact—the hall of the Altar of Zeus, the central room on the main floor. While all of the halls are monitored, that one is where the showpieces are displayed, so the security measures there are pretty much airtight.”

“What are we dealing with?” Wai-Mei asked intently, leaning in to get a closer look at the layout.

“Surveillance cameras, bag checks, alarms on all the service doors, uniformed and plainclothes patrols.” Jen ticked off the points on her fingers. “Motion and vibration sensors: the entire floor is rigged at night, and proximity triggers are active when the museum’s open.”

“Airtight is definitely the word,” Wai-Mei noted, eyes narrowed as she studied the blueprints.

“And this is all public knowledge?” Honold queried, scratching at the scar on his cheek.

“A deterrent, no doubt,” Dolos observed. “Faced with such a daunting list of security precautions, most thieves would likely seek easier targets.”

“Is this thing really that valuable?” Thud asked sceptically. “I mean, it looks like something I’d make in pottery class.”

“I gotta say, I didn’t figure you for an artist, Jones,” Honold chuckled.

“I’m not. That’s my point.” Thud peered at the holograph. “It’s a real ugly piece of shit.”

“Everything is worth what some schmuck with more money than sense will pay for it,” Wai-Mei noted dryly. “All you have to do is convince them that it’s cool. And in the rich and shameless percentiles of the galactic population, it doesn’t get much cooler than templar tech.” She nodded to Thud. “So no, in absolute terms, it isn’t that valuable. The security will be there primarily for the other pieces in the room. This one just gets the benefit of added safekeeping.”

“And you can get it out of there?” Honold asked.

“Not without help,” Wai-Mei judged. “I’m good, but not that good.”

“Well, as it happens, you won’t need to. We’re in luck with our timing,” Jen continued. “I went for a look around yesterday, and got chatting to a friendly clerk. The museum runs routine maintenance on all of its artefacts, and this one’s scheduled for its annual checks this week, so the item currently on display is a replica. Our target is in storage in the maintenance complex in the basement, waiting to be processed.”

“That’s excellent,” Wai-Mei observed thoughtfully. “Getting into the museum’s maintenance complex during the day will be a lot easier than cracking the lockdown at night.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jen concurred.

“I assume that’s where I come in?” Solinas piped up.

“Exactly. That area is secured for personnel only. Fingerprints, voice and facial recognition, and passwords.”

“Well then, I’ll need a candidate skin.” Solinas rested one of his inner hands on the tip of his beak for a moment. “Someone high ranking, with top-level clearances would be best. But not so high-ranking that it would be remarkable to see them in the maintenance area.”

“Got it.” Jen looked over at their infiltrator. “Dolos, can you crack their mainframe security via pubnet?”

The cyborg cocked her head to one side, her gaze going vacant for a moment as she concentrated, then she nodded. “Done. I have accessed their intranet only at present. Do you require further infiltration?”

“Nope, that’s fine for now,” Jen replied. “We need to find someone for Solinas to become. Can you show us the staff roster?”

Dolos nodded. She pulled an eyepiece from a pouch on her belt, and set it over her left eye, projecting a datascreen beside the building schematic. “The display is haptic,” Dolos told them. “You may interact with it as needed.”

“That’s a neat little toy, Dolos, thanks,” Jen said. “OK, let’s see… How about the museum’s chief of security, Logan Baines?”

Solinas clicked his beak. “I like it. Someone like that has the perfect cover to wander in and out of any part of the museum he feels like.”

“That’s what I was thinking. And it’ll give you override privileges on the security systems—we can always implicate him in the job to add an extra layer of smokescreen.” Jen expanded the record to access his personnel file. “Here’s his home address and contact details.” She looked over at the changeling. “What other info do you need?”

Solinas activated his own interface. “Not much, actually. Name, contact details, and location give me a pinpoint. I’ll pick him up on his way home tonight, shadow him for a day or so, find out his routine, then get closer and pick up a sample from him. Big city like this, with a rush-hour commute on mass transit—should be child’s play.”

“Great.” Jen turned to their cyborg companion. “Dolos, can you tight-beam that data to Solinas?”

“Already done.”

“Good. And if you can track his network activity from his office, we can build a more complete picture—passwords, access codes, that kind of thing.”

“I can remotely trace that data and download it,” Dolos confirmed. “Shall I forward it directly to Solinas, or would you prefer to be included?”

Jen shook her head. “Keep it compartmentalized,” she instructed. “I don’t need to know. The only thing I care about is Solinas being in position, with the right access codes, when the time comes.”

The changeling nodded. “I will be,” he promised.

“So Solinas goes to work as this Baines guy,” Thud recapped, “and then what? Opens all the doors for us?”

“Something like that,” Jen agreed. “He can use Baines’ access credentials to authorize movement of the artefact from the maintenance store to the prep room. And since the prep room is right in the centre of the secured complex, it has minimal security.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Wai-Mei guessed.

“Yep. That said, getting to the prep room won’t be without its challenges.” Jen lifted the main floor diagram away, moving it out of the main display, and pulled up the basement level, zooming in to expand the view of the maintenance complex on the lower level and highlighting the prep room. “We have two options. Either we hack you into the security records as a member of staff, or we make use of the ventilation system to get in and out without being seen at all.”

Wai-Mei chuckled. “The classics never go out of style. I don’t have a particular preference; which one works better for us?”

“A combination would likely be optimal,” Dolos offered. “The easy access to the facility that staff credentials provide would reduce the risk in accessing the preparation room. Xox could then depart with the artefact via the ventilation shafts, in order to not be seen leaving with it. That would reduce the time window in which we would need to scramble the security system, and minimize the risk of the infiltration being detected.”

“Good idea,” Jen agreed. “I was going to say the vents are the least risky option—we’d only need to disable a couple of motion sensors and cameras—but the more things we can do that are system normal, the safer we are.”

Wai-Mei nodded emphatically. “And the less crawling through vents I have to do, the happier I’ll be.”

“All right.” Jen gave a decisive nod. “Let’s review this, then. Solinas will acquire the identity of Logan Baines, the museum’s security chief. On the day, he’ll go to work as normal, and at an agreed time, he will authorize the transfer of the artefact from secure storage to the prep room. Once he’s authorized the transfer, he signals the team, then he can monitor the security channels for any problems and give us an early warning if anything unexpected occurs.”

Solinas clicked his beak in confirmation.

“Dolos will hack the staff records and add Wai-Mei with the appropriate credentials. On the day, she will also scramble the cameras in the prep room and de-activate the security systems monitoring the ventilation shafts. Once Wai-Mei signals the all-clear, she will reactivate the security and scrub any trace of the hack.”

“Affirmative,” the cyborg said.

“Wai-Mei, when you get Solinas’ signal, you’re good to go. Get into the maintenance area, access the prep room and retrieve the package. The central vent leads straight into the main ventilation network—you’ll need to know the route like the back of your hand.”

“No sweat. I have a VR visor and some sweet simulation software. If Dolos can get me the blueprints, I can get some practice,” the thief replied confidently.

“That will not be a problem,” Dolos stated.

“OK. Once you’re out, “Jen continued, “Honold will be your hand-off man. Additionally, he’ll be our lookout for any external interference. You’ll rendezvous with him here,” Jen brought up a city map, and highlighted the spot, “at the landward side of the bridge. Pass over the package, then you both go your separate ways. Honold, you’ll drop the package at the First United Terran bank on Friedrichstrasse. I’ll give you the number and credentials for a safe deposit box. And a contact number for our employer in case anything goes south in the museum.”

“Right,” Honold agreed, rubbing at his beard. “So what are you going to be doing?”

Jen gestured to Thud. “We’re gonna be causing trouble. While Wai-Mei’s working, we want security’s attention to be focused elsewhere, so we’ll provide some street theatre to keep them entertained. We’re going to start a little ruckus in the main hall.”

“I’m good at causing a ruckus,” Thud grinned.

“Oh, I know,” Jen chuckled. “I’m definitely playing to the team’s strengths, here, believe me. All right, everyone clear?”

There were nods all round.

“Great. We’ll hit the place just after opening in three days’ time. We’ll do a final go/no-go briefing that morning at oh six hundred, so that we don’t interfere with Solinas’ work routine. I’ll also rig an abort warning for our comms at that time. Everyone should visit the museum before we roll, and make sure you’ve got a solid handle on whatever escape route you choose. Try and pick up some normal tourist or office job clothing, and leave your regular gear stashed if it’s memorable in any way. Oh, and in case it needs to be said, no weapons. I don’t want this turning into a hostage situation or worse if everything goes tits up.”

“Right. I’ll be off the grid for a while,” Solinas offered. “I need to get immersed—the more local colour I can pick up, the more convincing I’ll be. I’ll be at the briefing the morning we go, don’t expect to hear from me before then.”

Jen nodded slowly, somewhat unhappy with the idea, but unable to marshal any argument that didn’t look like total paranoia. “All right. Be careful out there.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet? Later, Bronwen.” The changeling slipped out the door.

Thud grunted. “I don’t like that guy.”

“He seems a bit highly strung for this line of work,” Wai-Mei observed, “but I suppose being a con-man is all about performance and drama, right?”

“If we do this properly, there shouldn’t be any drama,” Jen replied. “Well, aside from the distraction that we provoke. His employment history with Shan is rock solid, and his abilities are going to make this whole job a lot easier. As long as he gets it done, he can be as highly strung and disagreeable as he likes.”

Wai-Mei shrugged. “You’re the boss.” Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand, she collected her jacket. “I’m gonna hole up in my room, catch up my sleep, and then start studying. Dolos, how long will you need to get me those detailed blueprints?”

“Would you like me to round up my estimate to the nearest whole second?” the cyborg replied.

Wai-Mei blinked. “What?”

Dolos shook her head. “It no longer matters. The blueprints have now been downloaded to your comm account. Let me know if you require further data.”

“Jesus, you don’t mess around, do you?”

“I am not sure what gain there would be in procrastination.”

The slender thief shook her head in amused exasperation. “It was a figure of… never mind. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

“All right, we’re done,” Jen announced. “Everyone enjoy the sights of Earth’s most important city. I’ll be available in the hotel bar each evening for anyone who needs face time, and I’ll contact each of you individually to walkthrough details over the next few days. Thanks, and keep out of trouble.”

***

That evening, Jen invited Thud down to the hotel bar, keen to catch up properly. Sitting at a small table near the window, she ordered two beers, and smiled a greeting to her friend as he arrived just as the bartender delivered the order. “Perfect timing.”

“I’m still good for something, it seems,” Thud replied somewhat morosely, settling into the armchair opposite and raising the glass. “Cheers, Jen.”

“Cheers.” Jen tapped her glass against his. “Something bothering you?”

Thud shrugged, taking a gulp from his drink. “You’re paying me a lot of money to just be the comic relief. Feels like maybe you’re humouring me, doing an old friend a favour?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jen chided, sipping at her own beer. “I’d have a hard time staging an effective diversion on my own. This wasn’t the plan I started with, but it’s a lot better than what I was originally gonna do. It’s less risky all round, thanks to the timing of the maintenance work and with Solinas on the crew. And if it goes wrong, we still might be in need of your more combat-oriented abilities, as well as Honold’s. Call it insurance, if you like. But for now, let’s be happy with the idea that if everything goes according to plan, this will be easy money for both of us.”

Thud looked sceptical, but he nodded agreement after a moment. “OK, Jen. Shit, I’m sorry, I guess… seeing you again has me thinking of better days.”

Jen reached out to squeeze his hand. “I figured. So come on, talk to me, buddy. How are you doing, really?”

“I’m still angry,” Thud admitted. “Doesn’t feel like a year already. I screwed it up.”

“Who did you hit? Anyone I know?”

“Nah. Jumped-up little prick called McCulloch. Butter-bar who’d barely got his ass through OCS but thought he knew everything.”

“Why’d you swing for him?”

“He landed two of his platoon—my platoon—in hospital by being a careless bastard. I felt a degree of chastisement was in order. They were my kids, and he got them hurt. Broke-dick little shitbag. He was completely useless, and everyone knew it.” Thud snorted derisively. “Hell, Captain Bell even bought me a drink afterward. She said it was the least I deserved for doing what the entire battalion had been itching to do for weeks.”

Captain Bell? As in, Gina Bell?” Jen tried for casual, but failed miserably. Thud chuckled.

“The very same. She was bucking for Major when I got my BCD, looking at the Ops slot on battalion staff. Going places.”

“How’d she look?” Jen asked wistfully.

“Still hot as all hell. Damn, if that woman’s legs don’t go all the way up.” Thud’s grin widened as he studied Jen’s expression. “I thought you said it wasn’t love?”

“It wasn’t,” Jen protested, “but boy, she was ever good in bed. And I do kind of regret using her the way I did, but… I was getting desperate.”

“Was it worth it?” Thud asked softly. “You’re smart, and you had potential. They would have officered you up after another year or so, and you would have been good at it. But here you are, six years later, just as broke as me, pinning your hopes on a big score to put your life back on track…”

“It was worth it,” Jen assured him immediately. “I’ve had a bad year, I won’t deny that, and sure, this job has a high pucker factor because if we mess it up I’ll have to sell my ship, but I do own a ship. I’m hardly destitute. And I’ve had six years of freedom, going where I want, taking jobs I want, seeing the galaxy in my own time, and at my own pace…”

“And losing your ship will eat you alive, the same way as losing the Corps eats at me,” Thud noted astutely.

“Which is why I’m not gonna let that happen,” Jen swore. “We’ve got a good crew and a good plan. This will work.”

“I don’t doubt it. The plan’s solid, even a grunt like me can see that. So once we have our fortune and glory, then what?”

“I spend most of that fortune and glory on refits, upgrades, and fuel stocks, and then take a few completely legal, very respectable, and utterly boring cargo runs to cool my profile off a little. After that…” Jen shrugged. “Who knows? Pick a direction, see what I can find.”

“You sticking with this crew?”

“Nope. I don’t run with a crew very often. Only when I get work I can’t handle on my own. It’s cheaper—when the contracts dry up I don’t have extra mouths to worry about.”

Thud nodded, too quickly. “That’s understandable. No baggage to tie you down.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Jen snorted. “Just ask already, would you?”

“I don’t want to be a burden, Bronwen. Least of all to my friends.”

“You won’t be.” Jen smiled reassuringly. “I’ll make sure you pull your weight. Listen, you’re not going to get good work in Modeus. Everyone here is too tight-assed and too respectable. Ditto Sol Deuterion, Oceanhill, Bronwen, or anywhere else in Assembly space. At least come out to Asgard with me. The Market’s a good spot to get adapted to the outer systems. Shan’Chael’s always got work, and being local, being visible, you’re far more likely to pick up contracts. And that’s assuming I don’t keep you on.” She gave Thud an encouraging smile. “Lately I’ve been wondering if it might be better to have someone riding shotgun, and who’d be better than you? I mean,” she leaned across the table to punch him in the shoulder companionably, “I already know I can live in a confined space with you for months on end without wanting to kill you—that’s a big plus point.”

Thud chuckled softly, hope lighting in the depths of his eyes. “Maybe,” he hedged.

Jen clapped him on the shoulder. “Think about it, OK? The offer’s there.”

“I will. And Jen?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

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KEERA

Berlin, Earth, Modeus System, Assembly Space

The shrill, insistent beep of Keera’s incoming call alert dragged her from her sleep.

She sat bolt upright, staring around the shadowed bedroom, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. Rubbing her eyes blearily, she relaxed as details began to present themselves and her memory kicked in, then she rolled over to grab her console wristband from the nightstand. “Naraymis.”

“Keera?” Mendieta’s voice rang through the room, uncharacteristically worried. “Is that you?”

“Yes, sir. What’s going on?” The question trailed off into a yawn, and she cursed herself silently.

“Oh, were you sleeping?”“Yes, sir, it’s…” Keera checked the bedside clock, “four fifteen in the morning.”

“Ah. I’d forgotten about the time difference.” Mendieta sighed. “I’m sorry to have woken you, but I thought you’d want to know straightaway. Haroun Mahmoud died a few hours ago.”

“What?” Stunned, Keera dropped the wristband to the bedclothes and rubbed her hands over her face. “Oh, no… what… what happened?”

“I gather it was a hovercar accident of some kind. I didn’t get many details from his brother; he was still in shock.”

“How’s Rebecca?”

“I haven’t spoken to her yet, but I imagine she’s devastated. Listen, I’m sending Dev Chanderpaul out to relieve you temporarily, and you can come on home. The work on the Changeling treaty needs to be completed and you’re the best placed to do that. Besides which, I know you’ll want to attend the funeral. I know you were close friends.”

“I… thank you, sir,” Keera said gratefully, touched by the odd show of thoughtfulness. “I appreciate that very much.” She took a deep breath. “My God, I can’t believe it.”

“Nobody can.” Mendieta sounded tired. “He was a good man, had a real talent for the work. He’ll be hard to replace. But we can talk about that more when I see you.” He paused, and Keera could hear him tapping at his keyboard. “Chanderpaul’s finishing up some work with the Ercineans. There’s no point in leaving that unfinished as well, so I’ll send him along once he’s done. He should be on Earth in four days or so. In the meantime, keep working with Lawinson. I’ll let Minister Solta know to expect a delay in the paperwork.”

“Understood,” Keera acknowledged. “I’ll check in with you as soon as I’m home.”

“All right. Have a safe trip and I’ll see you in a few days. Mendieta out.”

Keera retrieved her wristband and replaced it on the bedside table, then got up and padded over to the window, looking out over the darkened avenue below. Mahmoud had been about the closest thing she had to a friend on Geonova, a close colleague she’d permitted herself to see socially on occasion. Initially, she’d only agreed to go out in order to keep up the pretence that she was settling into a social life, but things had escalated from there. He’d been a gregarious man, generous with his friendship—he’d quickly introduced her to his wife Rebecca and children, and their personal rapport had developed from there, with dinner parties and theatre trips and drinks after work where Rebecca would invariably try and matchmake for her. They were about the only people she’d thought she would miss, when the time came to end her assignment.

It hardly matters, her rational side noted coldly. You would never have been able to maintain the friendship anyway. The only difference is he should be mourning you.

He was my friend. Regardless of what would have happened, her compassionate side countered vehemently, winning out as tears began to sting her eyes. Blinking rapidly, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sucked in a deep breath. Focus.

A hovercar accident. That was an unsettling coincidence; it was a popular choice of extraction cover for changeling agents. They were easy enough to manufacture, and commonplace enough to be overlooked as simple tragedy. It was the way she was expecting Assistant Secretary Naraymis’ meteoric career to come to a close. Had Mahmoud been an agent too? A back-up, perhaps?

She dismissed the thought as soon as it occurred. If he’d been her back-up, he wouldn’t have been withdrawn before the mission was completed. And as the mission principal, she would have expected to have been made aware of his true identity.

A chill settled in her gut as a new possibility presented itself: what if he had been targeted by the Sentinels? If the terrorist group had learned of the new legislation, learned who in the Marauder government was dealing with it, they might well have taken action to stop the amendments from being enacted, protecting their agents in Marauder space. And if they knew about Mahmoud, they knew about her. Not necessarily her true identity, of course, but if the nature of the work she was doing was worth killing for, then she was an obvious target.

If it was the Sentinels, it was a sloppy sort of operation, though, she reflected. They could have replaced him rather than disposing of him in such a public fashion. Then they could have disrupted the bureaucratic process in a dozen different ways without stooping to anything so crass or obvious as murder. Unless, of course, they were getting desperate.

The more she thought about it, the more wound up she became—while the odds where overwhelming that it had simply been an accident, it was the kind of fluke happenstance that she’d been taught never to just ignore. Setting up her terminal, she placed a call to Estris.

Her handler sounded less than pleased to hear from her when he picked up. “Naraymis, you’re not due to check in for another week. What’s going on now?”

“I just got word that my deputy at the Marauder Exterior department was killed in a hovercar accident.”

“Yeah, so?”

The callous indifference in his tone grated on her. “Well, it’s put the treaty work on hold till I can get back to New Lagos, so it’s a setback for the mission.”

“Not one you can’t deal with, I trust?”

“Of course not,” Keera protested, “but it’s awfully similar to an extraction op.”

Estris huffed an impatient sigh. “Most accidents are, Naraymis. That’s the general idea, remember? Don’t go looking for connections where there are none.”

“So you’re telling me you don’t know anything about it?”

“No I don’t know anything about it,” Estris replied coldly. “Think it through: it would hardly be a logical move for us, would it? Slowing down the treaty isn’t in our interests, it’d be counter to everything you’ve been doing. And more to the point,” his tone chilled further and took on an edge of rebuke, “it’s not your concern. Even if it was a step that was deemed necessary, what do you care and why is it your business?”

“It’s my concern if it compromises my exit strategy, Estris,” Keera retorted sharply, irritated by his condescending attitude. “If I have an “accident” so soon after one of my colleagues and we were both working on the same project, even the stupidest intelligence officer in Assembly space is going to make some sort of connection and look closer. To say nothing of potentially putting the entire Marauder government on guard.” Keera grimaced. “I agree it’s unlikely to have been part of our operation, and if it is, sure, I don’t need to know, but I’m not prepared to ignore the possibility that he was targeted by the Sentinels. If they knew what we were trying to do, it makes sense that they’d try and stop us. And if they know how to get to him, they know how to get to me. So cut me a little slack, would you? I’m not an idiot. I wouldn’t call in without a good reason.”

Estris snorted, but his tone was more conciliatory when he spoke again. “Maybe you’ve got a point there.” There was a brief pause as he typed something, then he sighed. “All right, sit tight and keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll look into it and see what’s going on, see if I can get you a sit-rep. If I find anything, I’ll contact you—don’t call in again before your next scheduled check. Let’s try to keep a little tradecraft, shall we? The next time you pull this amateur crap, you might not be as lucky with who answers your call. You don’t want to end up being this year’s object lesson in necessary termination, do you?”

Keera shook her head, even though Estris couldn’t see her. It was uncommon for the Service to terminate its own agents for jeopardizing operations, but it happened regularly enough to be a real risk. No one is irreplaceable, as their unofficial motto had it. “No, of course not. Understood. And, Estris…”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for checking–I just want to be sure everything’s on the level. Call me paranoid, but…”

“Sometimes the bastards really are after you,” Estris completed the old saw gruffly. “Don’t worry, kid. I’ll be in touch if there really is an issue. Otherwise, just stay safe.”

“Will do. Naraymis out.” Keera cut the call, sighing as she noticed the time was now well after four-thirty. She was wide awake, and there wasn’t much point in going back to bed if she was getting up at six anyway. Opening her terminal’s main menu, she pinged a room service request for coffee and breakfast to the hotel’s auto-concierge, and settled down to make a painful comm call to Rebecca.

***

By the time she got back to her room that evening, Keera was exhausted. Her meeting with Lawinson had been fairly brief—the congressman had taken pity on her when he’d heard her news, and had kindly advised her to take some time to collect herself—but even so, she’d spent most of the day in a bit of a funk. She’d used the unexpected free time to indulge in a guided tour of the city, but she’d hardly taken anything in, her thoughts returning to Mahmoud’s fate any time there was a moment of quiet.

She wanted to believe it was an accident, as Estris seemed to, but the instilled scepticism of her training combined with emotional shock had her analysing and re-analysing every potential scenario, a thought process that continued to grumble in the back of her mind as she took a shower and changed into her sleepwear.

She forced herself to her desk, determined to try and get herself back on track, and succeeded in getting a little work done, some minor correspondence issues and housekeeping that she’d been putting off to focus on the terran negotiations. None of it was massively important, to be sure, but they were things that were easily dealt with even with her fractured concentration.

She was making headway on wading through an ancillary document for part of the changeling treaty when her door chime rang, startling her out of her efforts to focus on mundane matters and back into a state of mild wariness. She wasn’t expecting company and she hadn’t ordered room service. Perturbed, she crossed to the security panel on the wall and activated the vid feed to reveal a tall, dark-haired human male she’d never seen before. He was dressed in a dark suit and wore the gold badge of a hotel staff member on his lapel. He offered a pleasant smile. “Miss Naraymis?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“No need for concern, ma’am. Hotel security. I’m sorry to bother you, but we had a report of a breach in your suite’s systems a few minutes ago, and I just need to verify it’s a false alarm.”

Keera frowned. “I’ve been here for the past two hours and nothing’s happened. I’d prefer that you check it tomorrow when I’m out, if you don’t mind. I was about to go to bed.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but our security protocols dictate we have to verify alarms when they occur. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it will only take a moment.” He smiled winningly. “After all, there’s no such thing as too careful, in my line of work.”

Keera sighed. “All right,” she relented, thumbing the lock release, “but make it quick, please.”

“Bet your top dollar,” the man replied easily, flashing another smile as she opened the door. “Thank you for your cooperation, ma’am.”

“Bet my top dollar?” Keera said suspiciously. “Don’t you mean bottom…”

He kicked the door toward her, hard.

Keera was already stepping back on instinct, and that backwards motion was the only thing that saved her from being stunned as the door hit her solidly in the chest. As it was, the impact still knocked her halfway across the room. She just missed hitting her head on the coffee table, but landing flat on her back knocked the wind out of her momentarily.

Her assailant walked calmly across the room to stand astride her, pulling a small, low-powered energy pistol from his pocket. “Sorry about this,” he said conversationally, “but I have my orders. It’s nothing personal.”

The adrenaline of panic came to Keera’s aid just in time. As her attacker lowered the gun to aim, she jerked her leg up, catching him square in the crotch with her shin. As he doubled over with a yell of pain, she wriggled out from underneath him. She clawed the gun desperately from his grasp as she drove herself to her feet, kicking it clear across the room before he had a chance to retrieve it. Then she leapt back out of range, guard up, waiting for his next move.

He straightened up, far more quickly than she would have expected, face twisted in a grimace of rage and pain. “You’re going to pay for that,” he promised.

“Oh please,” Keera goaded, “shut up and take your best shot.”

He charged at her without warning, but she was ready. She sidestepped, letting him bull past, then pivoted, kicking him in the back to drive him into the wall. He caught himself with his shoulder, using the rebound to launch himself back toward her, again with a speed she wasn’t anticipating, and this time he connected, wrapping her in a bear-hug as he tried to wrestle her down.

Squirming and kicking, Keera tried to break his grip, but to no avail. If he got her on the ground again, the fight would be over fast. Frantic, she ducked her chin and clenched her teeth, then reared back and smashed her forehead into her assailant’s nose. He dropped her with a howl of agony, clapping his hands to his face as he staggered backwards. Grimacing at the pain pounding through her own head, Keera made a break for the dropped gun. Physically outmatched, the weapon was now her best chance of controlling the situation. Stooping, she scooped it up and turned to aim it at her attacker.

He was gone.

Shivering with adrenaline, panting with a mix of panic and exertion, Keera checked the entire suite to make sure he really had left, then locked the door before sinking to the floor, heart pounding in rhythm with her head. Massaging her aching forehead gingerly with her fingertips, she sat for a few moments, too shocked by the encounter to think straight, but as her heart rate calmed and the throbbing in her skull subsided slightly, she was able to take stock of the situation.

Luckily, nothing seemed to have been damaged or broken in the brief scuffle. Keera herself was more or less unharmed beyond a stinging carpet burn on her back from her first fall and the throb in her head from the butt.

Looking at the desk, she could see all of her gear appeared to be there—he hadn’t had a chance to take anything. She swept her gaze across the room, pausing when she spotted a metallic wristband lying on the carpet near the coffee table.

Her breath caught. He’d dropped his comm unit.

Replaying the fight in her mind, she realized that she must have pulled it off his wrist when she’d clawed away the gun. Stooping, she picked it up and activated it, surprised to see it had no security protocols enabled.

Opening the main menu interface, she soon saw why. The unit was almost completely blank, with no net traffic, no calls, no community chats, none of the activity or applications she would expect on a personal module. All it had stored was her own personnel record from her work, a pinned map of the hotel location, one encrypted file package, and a list of five contacts: Bronwen, Dolos, Honold, Jones, Xox. Far too short a list to be someone’s complete social network. It had to be a disposable unit, a pay-for-usage metered device that would allow him to stay in touch with a specific group of contacts but keep them segregated from his regular network while he carried out his attack on Keera.

Cold fear slithered unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach, crawling up her throat and making it difficult to breathe again. All the evidence was pointing her to an unpleasant but irrefutable conclusion, one that made her heart hammer against her ribs.

Her attacker had been a changeling.

And he’d been sent to kill her.

It all added up with frightening ease. The idiom confusion, his quick recovery from a blow that should have incapacitated a human male, and the speed of his reflexes pointed to his species. The disposable comms device and the masquerade as a member of the hotel staff marked him as practiced in deception and undercover work. And his tactics had all the hallmarks of classic changeling training—create an opening, strike hard and fast, and if compromised, disengage. Which meant that she hadn’t seen the last of him. Well, likely she’d seen the last of that skin, but if he had her targeted, she could expect another attack in due course.

She might have been compromised, she realized next, her fear redoubling. Somehow, somewhere, she’d slipped up, tipped someone off. Or, perhaps more likely, it was what she had initially feared: the Sentinels had marked her for execution, regardless of her true identity. This had been a premeditated attack intended to take her out, implemented by an agent operating with a back-up crew. Which would mean Mahmoud’s death hadn’t been an accident, either…

She pushed herself to her feet and hurried over to her computer. The protocol for these situations was clear: if she had reason to believe she was compromised, she should call in and then go to ground until she could be extracted by the Service, or until she received further orders. Under no circumstances should she try to continue her mission while there was a risk of it being blown.

She was about to call Estris when she remembered he had ordered her not to call. Was it conceivable that he was in on what had just happened? Or that he had been replaced by a Sentinel?

… Don’t call in again before your next scheduled check.

Had his order been genuine pedantic observation of procedure, or an attempt to freeze her out so that she wouldn’t get in touch with someone else and expose him before his associates had a chance to deal with her? She didn’t want to believe that—she’d known Estris for years, he’d been her handler for her entire assignment to the Marauder capital. He’d been her anchor back to her real life, the only contact she had who knew who she really was.

You don’t want to end up being this year’s object lesson… do you?

That thought drove a spike of panic clean through her chest. Had Estris been trying to warn her, or had he made the call himself? Had the Service decided to terminate her before she was exposed, or… Don’t be ridiculous, she scolded herself. You only broke tradecraft once to check in—they don’t wipe agents for that.

But if I have been compromised…

“Get a grip, Keera,” she said out loud, sucking in a few deep breaths to try and slow her racing heartbeat, control the fear scrabbling at her throat. “Get a grip. Calm down and think this through. Don’t do anything hasty. Act, don’t react.”

She forced herself to regulate her breathing, tried to get a plan together. She needed to relocate, at the very least. If she wasn’t going to call for back-up right now, she was dangerously exposed, since her enemies knew exactly where she was. Trying to keep calm, she threw on some casual clothes and made her way down to the bar, accessing the complimentary comm network to book a new room at a much smaller, cheaper hotel a few blocks away. Then she went back to her suite and packed up most of her belongings, leaving only a few easily replaced items to make it appear as though she was still in residence. She set the suite’s communications console to forward any calls to her directly so she wouldn’t miss them, set the privacy status on the security system to “do not disturb,” grabbed her bags and headed to her new hotel, doubling back on her route twice to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Once locked in her windowless, mid-floor room, she shoved the cheap office chair in front of the door to provide advance warning of any intrusions, and settled on the floor behind the bed with her would-be killer’s weapon close at hand.

It was a long time before she got any sleep that night.

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JENNIFER

Pergamon Museum, Berlin, Earth, Modeus System, Assembly Space

The museum was busy.

So much the better, Jennifer reminded herself as she and Thud walked arm in arm toward the entrance. With more traffic underfoot, there was inherently more distraction for the security staff. She noted several queues of school children snaking toward the group entrance, brightly coloured shirts making them easy to spot in a crowd. Once inside, each group would be a vibrant little pool of chaos. Better and better.

All right, here we go, she told herself as they joined the security search queue, taking a deep breath to calm the butterflies fluttering around in her belly.

“Performance jitters?” Thud cracked as he heard her exhale.

“Every time,” Jen agreed. “You?”“Hell, yeah. You remember how much I used to shake before combat drops?”

“You weren’t the only one,” Jen recalled. “Man, I hated doing those. Hated to be in the hands of another pilot.”

“I always said you had trust issues.”

“And you were totally right,” Jen admitted as she stepped through the detector with a smile for the youthful uniformed guard. He smiled back, a full-on grin that had less to do with professional courtesy than it did with appreciation of Jen’s figure.

“Enjoy your day with us, ma’am,” he offered.

“Aw, thanks, hon,” Jen drawled, blowing him a kiss. Thud scowled, shoving her in the back to keep her moving and keeping a possessive hand on her backside as they headed into the vestibule.

“You’re incorrigible,” he grumbled.

“Just keeping in practice,” Jen shrugged impishly. “Besides, I’m trying to be distracting, remember?”

“You’re succeeding admirably,” Thud observed. “You’re enough to make a good dog break his leash, particularly dressed like that.”

“Well, if you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?” Jen grinned back. It wasn’t that she particularly cared about her appearance; she considered herself pretty low maintenance, and most of the time aboard ship she could be found dressed in cargo pants and a vest, donning her more practical light armour, boots, and duster combo when out and about in town. She rarely wore make-up (except when she wanted to hide her tattoo to be more inconspicuous, like now) and owned nothing even remotely approaching formal wear. For the op, she was casually dressed in typical summer tourist style, skin-tight fitness shorts, trainers and a fitted souvenir t-shirt she’d bought the previous day—hardly model or movie-star chic. That said, she was rigorous with her fitness regime, and she knew her body was in pretty good shape, and that confidence let her indulge her flirtatious side. And besides, if people were enjoying looking at the Checkpoint Charlie stencil across her tits, then they weren’t going to remember her face.

Thud had similarly decked himself out in tourist civvies, and the two of them had spent some time over the past few days practicing the gestures and touches peculiar to intimate couples. They were planning to pass themselves off as colony-born honeymooners, and for such a ruse to work they needed to be comfortable with the physical contact. It was weird for both of them—although they were good friends, they’d never even been remotely attracted to one another. Their shared background camaraderie was a big help in lieu of the required romantic allure, however, and Jen had found herself enjoying Thud’s company more and more as the time slipped by. It boded well for any future co-operation.

“All right,” she said softly as she pulled her ear-jack from her pocket and slipped it in, tuning her comm wristband to the agreed team frequency. “Dolos, come in?”

“Receiving you, Bronwen,” the cyborg answered promptly.

“Great. Thud and I are in the museum, starting to make our way to the main hall. Status report, all positions.”

“Standing by,” Wai-Mei responded. “Waiting for my go.”

“Working on it,” Solinas offered, his voice sounding somewhat thick, as though he had a blocked nose. “Should be in the next five minutes.”

“Did you catch a cold or something?” Jen queried. “You sound all bunged up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bronwen,” Solinas retorted. “I can’t catch your human diseases. It’s just a lousy mike.”

“Fair enough.” Jen rolled her eyes at Thud in exasperation. “Dolos, status?”

“I am hacking in the credentials for Xox now,” Dolos reported. “I require two minutes to complete activities.”

“I’m in position,” Honold replied. “It’s a lovely day out, ain’t it?”

“Sure is,” Jen agreed. “OK, stay sharp. We are go on Solinas’ signal. We’ll check-in again after the signal. Stay off the freak till then.” She clicked the comms off and took a moment to centre herself. This was going to be the worst part. The waiting. She took a few deep, slow breaths and then nodded to Thud. “Ready, buddy?”

“Yeah, reckon so. I came prepared for all eventualities.” He opened the bag he was carrying and beckoned her closer.

Jen peered into the backpack, and cursed as she saw the outline of a handgun. “Thud, what the fuck?” she whispered harshly, stunned. The job was going to be risky as it was, and adding weapons to the mix would do nothing but provoke an uncontrollable escalation if things went wrong. While she rarely went unarmed in the rough and tumble systems beyond the Assembly’s control, in systems controlled by the governing council’s member races and obedient to the rule of law, there was no need to carry. There was almost zero risk of being assaulted, kidnapped, raped, or otherwise enduring any of the more unsavoury blood sports crime meccas like Hel’s Market tended to encourage.

“You like it?” Thud was grinning like a kid with a new Christmas present.

“No, I… how did you even get that through the security scans?”

“It’s got a polymould body and mechanism, and it’s kinetically charged,” he explained. “It uses a solid ammo block—the charge shatters the block and spits out the shards as rounds. Neat little bit of kit, they’re all the rage on Ganymede. It’s just a holdout, not meant for more than about ten shots. You buy them in packs of five. Disposable. I got the whole pack there, you want one?”

“No!” Jen hissed, scowling. “I explicitly said no weapons.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t feel like taking the risk.”

“Taking the risk?” Jen repeated incredulously. “This is Earth, not some backwater moon in the Lazarus Depth! Concealed carry is illegal.”

Thud arched an astonished eyebrow. “You’re worried about breaking the law?”

Jen glared at him. “We’re not doing anything illegal yet,” she ground out from between clenched teeth. “In point of fact, if we do this right you and I won’t be breaking any laws until we pick the package up from the bank. But if you get caught with that before then you’re gonna do a century or so in the deep freeze.”

“Then let’s make sure we don’t get caught, babe.” Thud winked at her, shouldered the bag, and pulled her by the hand down the corridor toward the main display.

“Asshole,” Jen growled under her breath, but she let him lead her along the gallery. “Wait up, honey,” she pleaded more loudly as they reached a large knot of people clustered around some ancient Greek statues. Time to test their assumptions about crowd reaction before the big show. “C’mon, slow down, I wanna see all these things. They’re cool. Y’know, some of them are even older than the dirt we got on Erebus.”

Thud sighed ostentatiously, but he slowed his pace. “Well, I want to see the alien stuff. Templars and Guardians and all that neat galactic warfare shit. This old schoolbook crap is boring as hell,” he retorted, drawing a few disapproving glances from passers-by.

“We’ve got all day, baby,” Jen pointed out in a plaintive whine.

Thud sighed again. “All right, if it’ll stop you bitchin’. Though I’m pretty sure you only want to look at the statues of naked dudes.”

“Aw, baby,” Jen purred, patting the front of his pants suggestively, “you know me so well.” She bounded over to one such statue and pointed at the crotch with a leering grin. “Good job you’re bigger than that, stud, or I’d never feel a thing.” Flicking a glance around, she caught the gaze of an elderly woman staring at her with an expression of rigid disapproval, and favoured her with a scowl. “Fuck you lookin’ at, Grandma?” she demanded belligerently.

The woman looked away hastily, and Jen smirked at Thud as she sashayed back over to him and draped her arms around his neck. “Looks like that works pretty well,” she murmured as he pulled her in for a hug.

“Shit, Jen, you keep this up, you’re gonna make me laugh. And then the gig’ll be up,” Thud protested, giving her ass a firm squeeze that was part play-acting, part rebuke.

She nipped at his earlobe with her teeth in response. “Focus, Sarge. Focus. You’re supposed to be a pro, remember?” Releasing him, she jerked her head toward the back of the building. “C’mon, let’s get into position. So to speak.”

***

Ten interminable minutes later, a muted chirp sounded three times across the team’s comm frequency. Jen tore her gaze away from the section of the Altar of Zeus she had actually become engrossed in—the thing really was impressive up close—and ambled over to where Thud was perving over some of the well-endowed female statues. Taking his arm, she leaned in. “That’s the signal.”

Thud kept looking at the statues. “Showtime, huh?”

“Yep. Let’s get to it,” Jen muttered. “Wai-Mei, Honold, you in position?”

“Confirmed.”

“Good to go.”

“Dolos, you ready?”

“Affirmative. Xox’s credentials are loaded to the system.”

“Solinas, we’re good to go. Keep an eye on things for us, OK?”

“I’ve got your back, Bronwen. You’re all clear, and everything looks good from my end.”

“Then I’m rolling,” Wai-Mei said. “Heading in now.”

“All right, we’ll get in position to make some noise.” Jen nodded to Thud. “Ready?”

Thud nodded, and the two of them made their way slowly over to a point where they were in full view of most of the milling visitors, and well within earshot of one of the school groups. She couldn’t have asked for a better audience—the teachers were certain to react badly when they realised what was happening. All we need to really be juicing the afterburners are some nuns and a couple of Ercineans, she thought wryly.

Time dragged, the seconds stretching out into endless minutes as Jen firmly resisted the urge to check her chronometer. She couldn’t afford to look nervous. Thud stood close to her, muttering occasionally, as though they were deep in conversation, and for the first few moments she forced some sporadic smiles and nods, then as the minutes crawled past, she eased through a neutral expression to a slight frown.

“What are you frowning for?” Thud asked eventually.

“I’m reacting badly to what you’re telling me,” she replied. “I want to start warming up anyone who’s actually watching us.”

Thud frowned back. “Right. Shit, how long is Xox gonna take?”

“As long as she needs to.” Jen shifted her weight, the closest she’d allow herself to come to fidgeting. The thief did seem to be taking her time, but it was hard to judge. “This is the toughest bit of what we’re doing,” she reminded Thud. And herself. “Once we get into action, the time will run quicker.”

“Routine check-in, fifteen-minute mark,” Dolos’ voice murmured in her ear before Thud could respond.

“Solinas, check.”

“Xox, check. I’m in the maintenance complex, the hack worked like a charm.”

“Bronwen, check,” Jen added softly.

“Jones, check.”

“Honold, check. I’ve got an ice cream, it’s real tasty.”

Jen bit back a grin.

“Aw, I hope you got me one?” Wai-Mei asked.

“Uh, no. Sorry.”

“Damn. Could you be a friend and get one for me? I like raspberry ripple.” She chuckled, then her mike clicked. “I’m moving in. I’ll check in when I have the package. You can start making a spectacle of yourself whenever you like, Jen. Don’t get arrested, though, OK?”

“Good tip, thanks.” Jen looked up at Thud, and he winked.

“Let’s do this.”

Jen took a deep breath and adopted an angry scowl. “You son of a bitch,” she said, not too loudly, but clearly enough to be overheard, overemphasizing her Bronwen system accent. She stepped back, bumping into the man behind her, but not bothering to apologise.

“Aw, baby come on,” Thud countered, letting his naturally loud voice ring out as he reached for her. She slapped his hand away, circling left and colliding with a second person. She had no idea who, her gaze was locked on Thud. The big man circled with her, keeping her opposite him as he reached out again.

“Don’t you touch me!” she spat, much more stridently this time.

“I wasn’t… I was only… I didn’t lay a hand on you!” Thud protested.

“You did!” Jen retorted. “You pushed me. You ain’t got no right to be pushing me around!”

Thud rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jenny…”“Don’t fucking call me that!”

‘Jeez, would you listen to me for just one damn minute?” Thud snarled, grabbing her by the arm. She shook him loose with an angry hiss.

“Don’t you touch me!” she repeated shrilly. “Keep your goddamn hands off me.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t you baby me!” Jen risked a quick glance around, and firmly resisted the urge to grin. The teachers were already trying to hustle their charges out of earshot, while the children didn’t seem to want to be hustled, eager to hear more rude words and creating eddies in the crowd as people found their paths blocked. Most of the patrons in the room were now either openly staring or trying to watch without appearing to. Whether they were entertained or horrified was hard to say.

“You’re making people stare,” Thud growled at her.

“Oh, that bothers you? You lily-livered piece of shit. Christ, you are such a loser.”

“I’m a loser?” Thud yelped indignantly. “That’s rich, coming from the girl whose only support in life is sucking the credits out of the men she screws!”

“Why you…” Jen pulled her hand back to deliver a slap, but had her arm caught by a very uncomfortable-looking security guard. “Oh, that’s just fuckin’ perfect,” she bit out, jerking her arm free and stalking a few paces clear.

“Sir, what seems to be the problem?” the guard asked uneasily, clearly wary of confronting Jen and electing to try his luck with Thud first.

Thud scowled and threw his hands in the air. “I’ve got no fucking idea,” he growled. “Why don’t you ask her?”

“I will,” the guard replied, eyeing Jen apprehensively, “but, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice and watch your language. This is a museum, not a public bar.”

“Right… right.” Thud lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry man, she just… well, you know how it is when someone yanks your chain.”

“I sympathise, sir, but…”

“Oh, you sympathise with him?” Jen spat. “You two got some sort of bromance going now? Of course, this whole fucking situation must be my fault, right?”

“Ma’am, I…”

“Don’t you ma’am me, you haven’t the first fucking idea what this creep said!”

“And I don’t care,” the guard cut her off irritably, holding up a hand to forestall her as she drew breath. “Ma’am, sir, I’m sorry that you’re having a disagreement, but you’re going to have to take it outside.”

“You…” Jen gaped at him, “wait… you’re throwing us out?”

“Aw, sh…shoot,” Thud groaned. “C’mon man, don’t do that. We came all the way from Shackleton to see this stuff. It’s our honeymoon. Listen, I’m real sorry, we’ll be as good as gold if we can just stay.” He gave Jen a pleading look. “Right, babe?”

Jen did her best to look chagrined. “Right.” She tried an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, sir. I… like he said, we came all this way. We saved for, like, ever. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, and I didn’t mean to offend anyone.” She looked out over the milling crowd. “I’m sorry, folks!” she called. “Really sorry.”

The guard blushed. “Ah, damn, just… wait a second.” He tapped his ear jack, murmuring a report to his control office, and Jen hoped fervently that Solinas was paying attention. The guard cocked his head to one side as he listened, then he nodded. “OK, you’re on a warning. I hear either one of you raise your voice again and you’re out of here, am I clear?”

“Crystal. Sorry, officer,” Jen muttered sincerely. “It won’t happen again.”

The young man fixed her with his best attempt at a stern glare. “See that it doesn’t,” he said gruffly. “We’ll be watching you.” And with that portentous declaration, he marched off.

“Out-fucking-standing, Bronwen,” Solinas chuckled over the comm. “I think you’ve missed your true calling.”

“Stay off the channel,” Jen ordered tersely. “You can critique my performance later.”

“Touchy, touchy.”

“That guy is a real dickhead,” Thud muttered. “I can’t wait to see the back of him.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jen admitted wryly. She’d fought her initial impression as long as she could, but she just couldn’t warm to the changeling. “Couple more days and he’ll be out of our hair.”

They wandered over to the replica of their target, and Thud snorted. “I say again. Ugly piece of shit. Though I’m kind with Shifty on one thing—I do wonder what it does.”

“It’s a weapon of some kind, but…”Jen cut off as her comm chirped.

“Jen, this is Wai-Mei. I have the package. Nice and easy.”

“Great work. Are you heading out?”

“Yes. I’m opening the vent now, and… fuck!”

“Wai-Mei? Wai-Mei, come in.”

No response.

Oh, shit.

Jen chewed her lip as she traded a nervous glance with Thud. “That didn’t sound good,” he muttered.

“Yeah, no kidding… wait, what the hell?”

The security alarm had begun to wail, and the museum’s public announcement system suddenly blared to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to an electrical fault in the museum’s systems, we regret that the exhibitions are now closed until further notice. Please make your way to your nearest exit. We apologise for the inconvenience. I repeat, the exhibitions are now closed. Please make your way to the nearest exit.”

“What do you want to do?” Thud asked tersely.

“Go with it for now,” Jen replied. “Slowly. If Wai-Mei’s been caught, we’ll need to abort, but she might just have slipped or lost her comms. We’ll give her a few more minutes to update.”

“If you say so,” Thud agreed uneasily.

“Relax, Thud,” Jen murmured, as much for her own benefit as for his. “We can still pull this off if we’re quick and careful.” Taking his arm, she snuggled against him as they began to follow the crowd back toward the main exit. As long as they didn’t panic, Jen reasoned, they would be fine. Tapping her ear jack, she opened her comms. “Solinas, what’s going on? We lost Wai-Mei, and there’s an evacuation notice. Have we been made?”

The changeling didn’t respond.

“Solinas?”

Nothing.

Shit.

Jen felt the first stirrings of real fear in her belly as they reached the foyer. The guards were making everyone pass through the security screening again rather than letting the crowd flow through to the exit undisturbed, and they were more interested in people’s faces than in whether they triggered the alarms.

Shit.

Jen pulled Thud to one side, getting them out of the main flow of the crowd. “OK, now we’ve got a problem,” she muttered. “They’re looking for someone specific. Cents to credits that’ll be us.” There was only one explanation. “Someone sold us out.”

“That rat-bastard shifter,” Thud snarled in reply. “I’d bet my last credit.”

Jen nodded agreement, nausea rising rapidly. Solinas was the most likely candidate, but what possible reason could he have for betraying them?

“Fuck!” Thud swore, pulling her attention back to the moment. “What do we do, Jen?”

“Well, subterfuge is out the window, but we’ve still got a little time, at least until they clear the crowd. Let’s see if we can get to Wai-Mei and give her a hand.” As Thud hesitated, she grabbed him by the arm. “Thud, come on!”

“Right,” he acknowledged as they headed back into the museum, pulling the polymould gun from his bag as they walked and shaking it violently to build up the charge.

“Put that fucking thing away,” Jen ordered. “We are not shooting our way out. I’m not getting killed for nothing, and I’m not going to upgrade to murder and kidnapping charges.”

“Not for people,” Thud agreed shortly, “but I can maybe fuck up a door lock or two, or break open a window.”

“Fine, just don’t point it at anyone.”

“Gotcha.”

Jen led the way to the service exit in the main hall, activating the comm network as she walked. “Dolos, switch to a private channel.”

“You’re secure, Bronwen.”

“I think Solinas has sold us out.”

“There is ample evidence to support that assumption.” The cyborg sounded somewhat irritated. “I was about to warn you. The security system is on full alert, and its anti-hacking protocols have been enabled, on the authority of Security Chief Baines.”

“Fuck,” Jen breathed. “What the hell is he playing at?”

“I assume that was a rhetorical question.”

“Yeah. Can you still access the system remotely?”

“I have spent the last five minutes rerouting my access. I can circumvent some but not all of the firewalls, and I cannot guarantee continued access, so whatever you have in mind is best done quickly. Nothing in the maintenance suite is accessible. Xox is inside somewhere, but I have been unable to ascertain her location.”

“Do you have a GPS fix on my position?”

“I do.”

“The door in front of me—can you open it?”

“Standby.”

The door lock clicked, and Jen kicked it open and darted through into the service corridor. “Dolos, can you scramble the camera feeds?”

“Done. Proceed down two levels, then take the door on the left-hand side in the middle of the corridor. That should bring you out across the hall from the prep room.”

“Got it,” Jen acknowledged.

Thud led the way, and in less than a minute they were outside the prep room. There was a small window set high in the door, and the big ex-marine risked a quick look inside. “Two guards, armed with stunners,” he whispered, indicating their locations in front and to the right of the door. “They’ve got her covered.”

“Can we jump them?”

“Sure. It’s a slide door. You hit the control, I’ll take the guy dead ahead, and you hold up the one on the right.”

“Roger that.” Jen raised her hand and placed it over the control. “Ready?”

Thud nodded, mouthed the count, and on three she slapped the interface. The big man bulled through, then there was the solid sound of flesh smacking flesh and a pained yelp. Jen stepped into the room in time to catch the second guard with a knee to the stomach as he tried to flank Thud. He folded around her knee with a wheezing gasp, and she caught his chin and bashed his head against the wall. He flailed like a gaffed fish and went limp, sliding out of her grip into a tangle of limbs on the floor. Thud threw his unconscious partner on top of him and dusted his hands off ostentatiously. “Now I feel like I’m earning my keep,” he noted with a satisfied nod.

Wai-Mei looked up from where she was kneeling on the floor with her hands behind her head. “You goddamn idiots,” she snapped, “you should have run while you could.” She looked furious. “I don’t know what the fuck I tripped, I swear. It was smooth sailing, and then…”

“You didn’t trip anything,” Jen interrupted. “Solinas fucked us over. No point in leaving you holding the bag, when they know who we all are anyway.”

Wai-Mei got to her feet. “So what’s the plan?”

“Let’s get out of the building first, then take it from there. If we can get out of maintenance, we can get back in touch with Dolos.”

“Right. The vents are a no go—I can see the sensor web is still active.”

“Fuck.” Jen grimaced. “All right, back out to the service corridor, then we’ll see if Dolos can help us out. Let’s move!”

They retraced their steps with Jen leading Wai-Mei and Thud bringing up the rear. The door into the service corridor had re-sealed, but Thud’s hold-out pistol shattered the lock on the third attempt. “Go up three levels, Bronwen,” Dolos instructed. “There is a fire escape on the top floor, a hatch to the roof that should allow you to exit the building unobserved, but only if you can reach it before it is sealed off. The systems are being locked with new protocols. I will not have time to reinitiate a hack…” the cyborg paused, then continued, “I have now been locked out. I cannot assist any further.”

“It’s OK, you got us a shot,” Jen replied, launching herself up the stairs, taking them three at a time. “Standby.”

As they reached the top floor, Wai-Mei gave a shout and pointed down the corridor. “There! Dolos was right.”

“Run for it!” Jen ordered, breaking into a sprint. She was halfway there when the door from the stairwell burst open behind them.

“Armed police, freeze!”

Jen stopped dead, fear roiling in her stomach. Thud turned back, quickly moving between Wai-Mei, Jen, and the two advancing police officers. The corridor was narrow enough that he could screen them both.

“I said freeze!” The command was more forceful this time.

Thud looked over his shoulder at Jen. “Go!” he shouted. “Get through the door, I’ll hold them off.”

Jen started to shake her head, horrified by the idea, but Wai-Mei took her chance, bolting for the exit without a backward glance.

“Jen, go!” Thud begged. “Don’t screw yourself on my account. Get out of here!”

Tears stinging her eyes, Jen nodded and turned to run, but even as she did, Wai-Mei halted, then began to back away from the hatch as two more police officers dropped through, cutting off their access and bringing their weapons to bear.

Thud, ignorant of the development, started forward and as he did, Jen heard the words she’d dreaded ever since he’d shown her the contents of his backpack.

“Gun! Gun! Suspect is armed!”

“Drop your weapon!” the lead officer ordered, the tone edged now with steel. “Drop it, right now. We’ve got the drop on you, you are out of options. Put it the fuck down, or we will open fire.”

There was a moment of perfect stillness, and then, almost in slow motion, Jen watched as Thud began to lift the muzzle of his weapon, a prelude to aiming it. Too late, she realised what he was planning.

“Thud, no!” she screamed. “Don’t, they’ve got us…”

A single shot echoed through the hall.

The back of Thud’s head exploded in a fountain of blood.

Too shocked to even cry out, Jen could only gape as his body collapsed to the floor, spraying her with blood.

“You, Checkpoint Charlie—down on your fucking knees, right now!” a harsh voice commanded, and Jen turned slowly to see the four police officers closing in, weapons levelled. Shit, shit, shit!

“I said on your fucking knees!” the nearest one repeated aggressively. “Last warning!”

Jen dropped to the floor, spreading her arms wide and showing her palms. “I’m not armed!” she shouted back.

“Hands on your head,” the officer instructed, thumbing a slide on his pistol. “Slowly. Any sudden moves and I’ll plug you.”

Jen nodded slowly, lifting her hands carefully. She had them level with her shoulders when her comm interface pinged, the bright red pre-programmed abort command winking to life. She had this one chance to let Honold and Dolos get clear.

On the floor, Thud’s ear jack pinged in sync with her own, and Dolos began speaking, clearly audible in the sudden silence. “Bronwen, Jones, you missed the thirty-minute check-in. Xox is also failing to respond to her comms.”

Jen looked up, met the gaze of the cop. She wasn’t going to let the others get picked up. If she couldn’t pay them, she could do that much for them.

The cop’s eyes narrowed as he saw her make the decision. “Don’t even…” he began.

Jen swung her right arm across her body, smacking her palm down on the abort button.

Dolos’ communication died in a storm of static.

Something smacked into Jen’s left shoulder with stunning force, knocking her backwards. Pain erupted through her chest and arm, and then through her head as the back of her skull made contact with the hard marble floor. The world spun crazily for a moment, and then everything went dark.

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