Heist

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the bouncer said. “But passage to the fourth level is, as with others, by invitation only.”

  “Invitation, yes,” Svend nodded while maintaining eye contact with the man. “But from one specific individual. I believe his name is… Mordecai, yes?”

  The man looked surprised, mostly telegraphed by the pause he made during the puff he took from his cigar. But he exhaled. “No, sir, I’m sure nobody by that name would have invited you.”

  “Mister Mordecai,” Svend insisted. “I would love to engage in all the requisite passcodes and phrases we need in order to advance further, but I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He turned to look back at Bentley and took a bit of a step to the right so that the man, who Bentley slowly realized was called Mordecai, could get a better look at her. “You see, Miss Merriweather’s had a bit too much to drink, and I promised her father the Vice Treasurer I’d take her at least to see the gardens. He’s not a man to disappoint, as I’m sure you know. But I’m worried if we’re forced to remain on this level much longer she won’t be conscious enough to appreciate the lumine blossom.”

  Mordecai narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Svend and began to nod his head at timed intervals. Svend waited patiently, and Bentley realized the bouncer must have either been consulting the data that the hallway scanners had gathered or receiving detailed information from some kind of control room of analysts who were viewing the same.

  It was a long wait. Bentley couldn’t tell exactly how long, as the interference on her corteX in this area was so sophisticated that even the internal clock function was coming up static. But it was minutes, at least, and much more than a pair of wealthy partygoers ought to be expected to wait in silence. And that, Bentley assumed, was probably the point.

  Just as Bentley was wondering if she ought to complain or sit down or make some other kind of performance to assure him of her drunkenness, Mordecai broke the silence. “Very well,” he said, stepping aside for them to pass. “Enjoy the gardens, sir and madam.”

  “Much obliged,” Svend replied to him while he pulled Bentley past. Just a few paces from Mordecai’s post, there was a flight of metal stairs that they began to ascend. It went on quite a while.

  “How… How’d you know everything to say?” Bentley asked breathily between steps.

  Svend called back at her, his voice echoing down the staircase. “How would I have gotten us up here if I didn’t?”

  Bentley wasn’t sure if he answered so evasively because he was withholding information or because this staircase was as bugged as the hallway had been, but either way she decided it was better not to interrogate him further. Instead, she focused on getting herself to the top.

  The staircase led to a high glass wall that partitioned off a massive, dark body of water that seemed to go on forever. Affixed into this wall was a kind of crystalline gondola that Svend helped her into, and as soon as they’d taken their seats it was abruptly launched into the great artificial ocean that stood in front of them.

  Bentley knew something like this ought to be terrifying. She was deep in enemy territory, about to reach the climax of a dangerous covert mission, and now the pair of them were isolated in a bubble that moved so quickly into this caged sea that the staircase and any evidence of it had long since vanished.

  But, when the bubble began to rise, and the sparkle of bioluminescent algae and seaweed began to illuminate the area around them, Bentley could only take the moment as magical. She looked at Svend, who stared out into the water with a satisfied smile on his face. The smile was different from usual though. Somehow more determined. Bentley could see in this moment just how important this mission was to Svend.

  Then the bubble emerged to the surface, and then retracted, leaving them standing on the water.

  Bentley looked down at her feet. They were actually walking on water. At the casino’s entrance, they’d emulated that experience rather well, but it was obvious that it was all tech and tricks of light. This was actual water. She’d been through it. She kneeled down to test the ground and tried to dip her fingers into it. There was slight resistance, enough that she had to forcefully push down in order to feel the cool liquid. It was like there was some kind of unseen gas pocket, or some manner of interference field that prevented them from sinking or even getting wet.

  “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you,” Svend told her while he helped her back to her feet. “There are much better drinks at the bar.”

  Bentley looked around her now. Svend had alluded to this level as being a garden, and it was that, but an otherworldly one. The plants all grew to fantastic sizes, sprouting straight from the water to form a canopy over the area above. Their pale blue bioluminescence seemed to be the only thing that lit up this area. Directly ahead of them was a glass bar, filled with water, with bottles of expensive-looking liquor visibly free-floating inside of it.

  “This place must have cost a fucking planet’s ransom…” Bentley said, wanting to sound disgusted, but feeling only the awe that it was obviously designed to instill.

  “Let’s go,” Svend said, snapping her out of it. He led her over to the bar and leaned on it, but didn’t speak to the bartender. Instead, he locked eyes with a different server, carrying a drinks tray. Bentley recognized this server as the very same one they’d met on the first floor, the one who Ivor had so rudely accosted.

  “Your prize, high roller,” she said lowering the tray to present it to Svend. It didn’t have any drinks in it. Instead, it was a large data drive, about the size of Bentley’s fist, with circuitry that seemed to actively pulse even without being hooked up to anything.

  “Much obliged,” Svend responded, picking up the drive and casually placing it inside of his coat. He then put his thumb on the android woman’s reader to present identification, as if he were paying for a simple drink.

  Bentley looked past the two of them to try and take in the majesty of this floor while she still could. Instead, she saw something else: Mordecai, now flanked by two of those masked guards, pointing at their server. He had a small, but nonetheless deadly looking blaster pistol in his hand that he leveled at the artificial woman’s head.

  Even drunk, Bentley’s combat reflexes kicked in. She reached for the server’s now empty tray and yanked it from her hand. “Watch out!” she yelled. She flung the metal disc with deadly accuracy to collide with Mordecai’s gun-toting arm, the impact making his aim go wide.

  Svend pulled his android accomplice down to avoid the shots from the other two before she scurried behind the bar.

  “Fuck!” Bentley cursed, looking at Svend in a sobering panic. “What now?”

  Svend smiled at her, taking her hand again with his usual calm. “Now,” he said. “We run.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Aboard the Chesed, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector

  For the second time since the mission had begun, Jelly Bean was forced to pursue an unusually hot-tempered Jade from the bridge towards Shango’s quarters. This time, though, they’d left it secured against override and instead the girl was standing outside the door banging on it loudly.

  “Open up!” she yelled at them. “I know you’re in there. And I’m fucking serious. You want to hear this. Bentley’s fucked us for real this time. Like she was already, but now I’ve got proof!”

  Jelly Bean felt it necessary to back her up considering the circumstances. Accessing their room’s intercom, she said called through to them. “Unfortunately, Jade is not exaggerating or overreacting. There are complications involving Bentley and the mission that we need to discuss.”

  The doors slid open while Jade was still pounding on it. She stumbled in to see the three staring at her. Olofi moved forward as though to catch her in case she fell. Loco was leaning against the wall grinning. Shango, seated at his workbench, turned his head to look away from his open tools. “Report, then.”

  “Bentley ditched her earpiece!” Jade cried out. “Just like I said! She ignored the mission, she ig
nored me, she ignored Jelly. All because she wanted to get her fucking dick wet.”

  Olofi and Loco exchanged a look, more taken in by the expression she used than the actual information.

  “Her what?” Olofi said. “Wait, she did what?”

  Loco looked past Jade to Jelly Bean. “She has one of those? Medical officer question here.”

  Jelly Bean didn’t plan to dignify that with an answer, and fortunately Shango didn’t pursue this line of questioning. “Bean, is this true? Have they abandoned the mission?”

  “I can’t speak to the mission, but she has abandoned her earpiece,” Jelly Bean reported. “We’ve lost all—”

  Jade shouted over Jelly Bean’s sitrep. “Why do you have to ask her? You don’t believe me? You think I’d lie about something like this?!”

  Tears welled up in Jade’s eyes now, and her whole body quivered. Jelly Bean could see how difficult it was for someone like Jade to maintain her temper, even just physically, and she was clearly at her limit. “You know what? Fuck you guys. All of you!” Tears finally broke, streaking her mascara down her cheeks. She turned and ran out of Shango’s quarters in the direction of her own room.

  Nobody followed her. The three of them simply stared at Jelly Bean in expectation that she would continue her report.

  “I’m afraid it’s paired with some even more concerning news. The Odysseus has returned to Thralldom in a very direct, aggressive way. They bypassed the security matrix and blasted open the main port’s shield doors. They’re now taking evasive maneuvers against the casino’s security fleet.”

  Loco looked tentatively pleased. “Sounds like maybe mission accomplished? They need a forced extraction with the target tech?”

  “I wouldn’t be able to tell you,” Jelly Bean replied. “Since Bentley has removed her earpiece, we are without any way of tracking events on Thralldom. Furthermore, the Odysseus is not responding to any of my hails. They appear not to wish to share their rationale for attacking the station.”

  Loco groaned at this, glancing at Shango, then Olofi. “Great. Didn’t I tell you that was a dumb idea? Who thought it was okay to not put in our own surveillance besides that rickety piece of shit?”

  “It was mine,” Olofi readily admitted. “The androids assured me they had surveillance covered. I believed them, because honestly I didn’t think we could match their tech when it comes to that kind of thing. Didn’t want to risk detection.”

  Loco spat on Shango’s carpeted floor, to his visible disdain. “So in other words, you fucking trusted them,” he snarled at Olofi. “Always gotta be naïve as hell. Just expect the best in every goddamn lifeform in this galaxy, and when does that not come back to bite us all in the ass?”

  “We’re supposed to be a team on this,” Olofi answered defensively. “I’m not going to apologize for trusting my team to have my back on a mission.”

  “I don’t give two faradayed fucks whether or not you apologize!” Loco barked back. “Doesn’t change where we are now. Maybe they’re trying to rendezvous and make off with the tech on their own. We don’t have the tech, we don’t get paid. They take the whole share and leave us flat-broke sitting on our swords.”

  “I find that unlikely,” Shango said, turning back to his tool assembly.

  Olofi glared at Loco. “So that’s all you care about?” he asked him. “Whether or not we get paid? Not a damn though to whether or not Bentley needs our help again?”

  Loco made a brushing motion off his left shoulder plate with his right hand. “Hell with her,” he said. “For all we know she’s in on the deal. Collects her portion of the share and they get the rest?”

  “Also unlikely,” Shango said towards his workstation.

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Loco responded to Shango keeping his eyes squarely on Olofi. “Either way, she decided to get herself into this mess. And I’m through cleaning up that kid’s messes.”

  “They’re our messes, too!” Olofi insisted. “If you don’t feel even a little bit responsible for the run-ins with Amroth, that’s one thing. But she’s on our crew. And she was doing our job.”

  Loco remained flippant. “And if she does the job, great! Let her do the job. Drinks on me when she’s back. And if she doesn’t, then fuck it.”

  Olofi took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “Okay, I’m done, Loco. I’m not going to have another fake tough guy fight with you today. You and me both know this ends with us going back to rescue Bentley. And I don’t have the energy to let you pretend you’re doing it kicking and screaming.”

  Shango raised up a hand, still holding one of his nanopoint assembly tools between his forefinger and thumb. “Perhaps not,” he said. “I believe Loco may be correct in this instance. It may simply be more appropriate to let Bentley fend for herself.”

  Jelly Bean couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and from Olofi’s expression she knew he felt exactly the same. Loco gave a big, gloating smile, but said nothing. The whole room stood in silence, dumbfoundedly taking in the implications of their captain’s words.

  Shango lowered his hand and returned to the work on his tools.

  +++

  Thralldom Space Station, Edge of Klaunox-Orion Sector

  Bentley’s hair was soaked and still dripping. Fortunately the combat weave in her dress and shoes proved to have excellent water wicking abilities, leaving most of her dry in spite of having taken a long dive into what seemed like an endless ocean.

  She hadn’t realized she could swim, but it turned out she was surprisingly good at it, though she had a rather good motivator for being so in trying to escape the cascading blaster fire from casino security at the surface.

  The hard part was knowing where to go, but Svend seemed to know exactly. They hadn’t gone back to the third floor stairway, of course; that would have been an impossibly distant swim. Even if Bentley had been able to hold her breath indefinitely they would probably have had to contend with whatever security measures those walls had beyond their scanning functions. Instead, Svend had taken them on a strange, twisting route beneath one of the large glowing plants, and in the middle of its stem found an odd hatch with a glowing, rope-like strand on the inside of it that they were now descending.

  At the very least, the dip in cold water had sobered Bentley up where the gunfire hadn’t. And now she was using what strength was left in her arms to hold herself steady while they climbed. The ropes had a silk-like consistency to them, and to some extent they were able to slide down them.

  Once she’d finished gasping for air, Bentley yelled down to Svend below her. “What is this, some kind of secret escape route?”

  “Oh, I wish!” Svend answered, not sounding nearly as out of breath as she did. Or at all, really. “It’s a hydroponic service tunnel. They use them to keep these plants stable from the inside and make sure they don’t fall on customers. They have to feed in nutrients from the levels that take in cargo shipments, so it leads all the way down to level two.”

  “Convenient,” Bentley said. “But if you knew this was here, couldn’t we have just taken it from the start?”

  “It’s a service tunnel,” Svend repeated. “That means a lot of staff. And a lot of staff means a lot of security. And that means there’s a fight waiting for us once we get off this rope.”

  “Well, fuck. You couldn’t have led with that? How long before we reach the bottom, anyway?”

  “Ten seconds, I’d say.”

  Right after Svend had said it, Bentley could see artificial tunnel lights approaching them, and a ground growing more visible beneath them. About fifteen feet before they reached the floor, Svend let go and took a dive.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” Bentley yelled after him while she rappelled down further until she’d reached a height that wouldn’t almost definitely break her leg.

  By the time she was low enough, Svend was already in a considerable fray, and what Bentley could see was almost unreal. The combat skills of the Chesed’s crew were e
xceptional, even superhuman by their own accounts, but there was something to the way Svend moved that was qualitatively different. He fought with a fluid efficiency that could only be accurately described as beautiful. Even before Bentley could get a good view on what he’d been doing, her companion had already rendered three men unconscious. After a flourishing combination of kicks and elbows that felled another two coveralled tunnel workers, he was grappling with one of the masked, iron-handed guards and managed to twist his arm behind his back with a cracking noise. He kicked the guard away and fired into his back with a compact blaster pistol she didn’t know he’d had on him, until now.

  Bentley saw a suited host leveling a pair of pistols at Svend from behind. She let go of the rope, leaping down knee-first into the back of the man’s head. She picked up the two guns from his body and fired wildly ahead into the tunnel while Svend put another guard into a rear chokehold to use him as a living shield from any oncoming fire.