by Lisa Wylie
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 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 pro
mised.
“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…”