“Looking for a place to have a moment of privacy.” She pressed herself up against Fred’s back and wrapped her arm around his waist. His breath caught and his entire body stiffened. “We both have roommates.”
The professor laughed and turned away. “Fine by me, but don’t go planting any bombs.” He waved and left the room having finished his self-medication.
Jayne released Fred. “So, where’s this optic board?” she asked. She graciously ignored his fumbling hands as he readjusted his pants.
“It’s back here.” They wound around a couple of old metal machines to their prize, which was in sorry shape. A crack marred the screen with spidering crevices and the projection light was incredibly dim, but it still worked. At least she hoped it did.
“Does that even work?” she asked. If they had wasted all that time tracking down a broken board, they could be in real trouble.
And so could a lot of other people.
Fred tapped the board with his hand and the screen brightened. “Still works.”
Jayne folded her arms and bit her lip in thought. Once she’d gathered the essentials together, she voiced her process aloud. “All right. Let’s think this through. We need to find the bombs—all of them—and deactivate them. Two have already been located, so that takes care of half the work. Can we disarm them remotely?”
Fred pulled his phone from his side pocket and tapped it. The optic board emitted a soft bing as it received the file transfer. “I’ve input the weapon IDs. If I can configure its systems right, I should be able to locate the remaining bombs based on their distinct selvanium imprint. Assuming they didn’t do anything to the cores when they refitted them, the signature should still be the same as my records.”
He cleared the board and brought up the weapon schematics from the file. “It won’t be easy to set up, though. And as for disarming them…well, we’ll have to do that in person.”
Damn it. Jayne swore inwardly. Deactivating the bombs in person meant blowing her cover. At the same time, though, lives were in danger. This wasn’t the time to worry about losing her funding. Jayne had to admit blowing her cover was almost worth it if her spy skills got to impress everyone. It played into her ego she had been getting better at controlling. But, she reminded herself, lives are at stake. Focus on the task at hand, she thought. At the very least, Fred could locate the other bombs and get that data to the police. Besides, it was also a matter of self-preservation. Everything would be moot if those goons decided to detonate before she and Fred could stop this. Part of her was surprised they hadn’t set them off already. Unless…
Of course! Jayne smacked her forehead. “Those idiots are probably still setting the other two bombs. That’s why they haven’t triggered the first two yet. They’re waiting to blow them all at once. They’re probably freaking out now that the first two have been discovered. And trying to rush arming a bomb? Always a bad move, my friend. As it stands, that gives us a limited timeline, so we’ll have to work fast.”
Fred turned away from the optic screen and smiled at her. “That’s what this is for.” He leaned over and pulled a small chrome gun from an ankle holster hidden under his pants. The center of the gun glowed green.
Selvanium.
Jayne’s heart rate rocketed. High-powered guns gave her a thrill that was almost erotic. “That gun is a beast, Fred. You could melt a wall with one blast.”
Fred smiled confidently. “I know. But do you know what else I can do with it?”
“Give it to the pretty girl in front of you?” Jayne asked coyly.
His smile spread into a massive grin and his eyes lit with excitement and adrenaline. He was clearly in his element when dealing with guns and it seemed the danger only strengthened his resolve. That taco girl definitely wouldn’t have rejected this Fred.
“No, it doesn’t matter how pretty the girl is or what she offers. Guns for money. That’s the rule. But what I can do is sync this bad boy…” Fred popped the central chamber of the weapon open and removed the square metal-framed glass chamber that housed the selvanium. He retrieved a cord from his pocket and inserted one end into the housing and the other into a port at the bottom of the optic board.
Another ding sounded and a file popped up. “All right, baby,” Fred cheered. “Now we’re in business.”
His fingers flew across the surface as he initiated a veritable tsunami of commands.
“How so? What does it mean?” Jayne asked.
“It means,” he began and zoned out briefly to input another line of code.
Jayne waited for him to finish. “Fred?”
“Yeah. Sorry. It means we can turn this selvanium box into a paired key. Since it came from the same cache, it has the ability to bond with the bombs’ cores on a quantum level. All we have to do is get the box close enough to the bombs. Then, we send a kill code to the control on the box to render the power source inert. The entanglement bond will pull the bombs’ cores along for the ride. At that point, even if the bombers trigger the device, nothing would happen. Selvanium’s biggest appeal can also be its biggest weakness if you write your codes right. ”
It all sounded a little slapdash to Jayne. “If that’s the case, why don’t the police do it?”
“Two reasons. One, it’s harder to do with a source that’s not from the same cache. Two, one miscalculation, one fuck up, and boom. So, unless dealing with selvanium quantum identification and entanglement bonding is something one is familiar with, stay away from it and stick to the traditional methods for deactivation. Besides,” Fred paused and looked up from the optic board, “when have the police not fucked something up?”
“Good point. But are you familiar with it?” she challenged.
“Mostly. Scuttling the quantum IDs of selvanium weapons is part of what I do. Otherwise, they’d be traceable. As for the optic bonding…well, I’ve got a good understanding of the theory.”
Jayne hummed her caution and patted his shoulder. “Well then, when the time comes, I’ll leave it to you to put that theory to the test. From three blocks away, of course.”
Fred smiled wanly. “That’s probably for the best.”
+++
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Tesla University of Technical Arts, Liberty Library
For new students, orientation week was all about getting familiar with the campus and the surrounding areas. It was also about partying and hooking up.
It wasn’t such a hot time for the library, though.
One mousy librarian and a sixth-year student convinced that this would be the year he passed theoretical analytics were the sole occupants. Well, them and the three bombers intent on blowing the school up.
“Push it farther under the table,” Brandon ordered. The distinctive hum of the school’s servers left the weasel of a man far too unnerved. If the librarian or a tech specialist were to pass through that door, they, and their plan, would be finished.
Terrance laid on his stomach and shoved the device under a table in the far corner.
They gained access to the server room and many other off-limits zones thanks to a digital skeleton key they had bought from Baggins weeks before. Wasn’t it amazing what a little intimidation and money could do?
The large man wriggled on his belly and pushed the case until it struck the wall with a muted thunk. “That’s it, boss,” he announced. He pushed out from under the table and rose to dust himself off.
“Okay.” Brandon shifted his gaze to Jonah and nodded decisively. “Activate it on the network and get those fail-safes operational. Nobody’s moving these bombs. Got it?”
His crony’s finger hovered hesitantly over the data pad he held in his hand.
“Brandon, I really think we should rethink what—”
Again. The same thing every time they set a bomb.
Brandon raised his hand in a command as old as civilization itself. Silence.
Jonah gritted his teeth.
“Jonah- It’s too fucking late now.”
�
��It’s not, though,” his accomplice argued. He shifted nervously from the ball of one foot to the other. “The bombs haven’t been triggered yet. We haven’t killed anyone. It’s not too late to walk away.”
Terrance looked innocently at Brandon with that habitual smile. “That’s true, boss.”
Brandon kicked the giant in the shin. “I know that, meathead. That’s not the point. These bombs need to go off. We’re already committed. Unless you’ve forgotten we’ve made certain promises to certain people. They won’t like it if we back out now. You think being shipped back to that little shit ice rock you call a home planet sounds bad? How about being cut into a hundred parts, stuffed inside a freezer, and then sold off as funkles?”
Terrance stammered, caught between his conscience and his fear of retribution. “I wasn’t saying to stop, boss, honest. It was Jonah. I was only pointing out-”
Brandon cut him off with a glare. The one was controlled with charisma and vision. The other obeyed him by…different means. “We’re finishing what we started. And I don’t want to hear one more word about ‘walking away’ or ‘maybe we shouldn’t do this.’ It isn’t ‘what party do we go to on Saturday night.’ This is shut the fuck up and do what I say. Got it?” he growled.
“Yeah. Sure thing, boss,” Terrance muttered. He nodded agreeably, having perfect confidence in his leader.
Jonah kept quiet.
Brandon cocked his head at him, sensing a challenge to his authority. “Really, Jonah? You’re going to pretend you won’t do as I say? Or have you forgotten—”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Jonah burst out through clenched teeth. “I’ll do what you fucking say, you twisted little shit.”
Brandon blinked in surprise. Jonah was usually sarcastic and challenging, but not outright insubordinate. “Terrance, punch Jonah in the stomach.”
Jonah’s mouth dropped open in dismay.
Terrance looked uncertainly at his boss. “But boss, he’s so lanky. I’ll break him in half.”
Brandon snapped his head to glare at Terrance. “What time did I say it was, Terrance?”
The thug pushed himself to his feet and answered, “Shut-the-fuck-up-and-do-what-you-say time.”
He nodded.
Terrance dragged his feet as he approached his friend. “Sorry about this, Jonah.”
He pulled his fist back. His other hand had locked onto Jonah’s shoulder to hold him in place. He was about to let the blow fly when Brandon suddenly called out.
“Wait.”
Jonah glanced at Brandon, hoping it was all a bluff. Just a warning.
“Take the optic pad out before Terrance punches you. I don’t want to have to replace it.”
Jonah felt the sinking reality of entrapment and disappointment. He moved stiffly to the table where the bomb lay and put down the optic pad. He forcefully suppressed his flight instinct as he returned to Terrance.
“Now,” Brandon ordered.
Terrance looked Jonah in the eye and tried to smile. A “someday we’ll laugh about this” smile. Then he looked away, unable to stare Jonah in the eyes anymore.
Jonah crumpled to the ground. Pain radiated from the point of impact in ever-increasing waves. He groaned and panted in short bursts, then gritted his teeth. It felt like Terrance had permanently dented his gut.
His friend looked on with a worried frown. He’d taken some power off the punch, as much as he could without Brandon noticing, but it still looked like he’d really fucked him up.
Brandon straddled his subordinate. “Next time, I’ll have him punch you in the face. Got it?”
Jonah writhed on the ground, doubled-over on his side, clutching his stomach.
“GOT IT?”
“Got it,” Jonah whispered. Tears filled his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Not in front of Brandon. He didn’t need any more fuel.
“Good. Now let’s get out of here. We have one more bomb to set.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Armaros, Theron Techcropolis, Tesla University of Technical Arts, Physics Building, Basement
Fred Baggins wiped the sweat off his brow with a trembling hand. They’d worked on the optic whiteboard all day, perfecting the binding program that would allow the selvanium chamber to bond with the bombs. For all intents and purposes, the little glass chamber had effectively been converted into the key they needed. But now, they had to plan around any potential fail-safes. The pressure increased with every passing second. At this point, Jayne knew she had to help. She tapped rapidly on her own data pad. Her coding skills might not be as advanced as some of the techies back at the academy, but they served admirably enough there in the basement.
She bit her lip, half expecting to hear the bombs going off at any moment. And yet they still hadn’t. The suspense was terrible. A darker part of her conscience told her it’d actually be a relief, in some way, to hear the explosions. To know there was no longer a way to help. But she pushed that thought out as she finished her snippet of the countermeasure and looked at Fred. She needed his reassurance now. “How much longer?” she asked for the fourteenth time that hour.
“Almost there,” he told her. His concentration remained fixed on the board. Beads of perspiration dripped onto his glasses, but time was too precious to waste on cleaning them. When the two pieces were effectively integrated, they would neutralize the emergency trigger when the pairing initialized.
“You said that an hour ago. Fred, if you aren’t close, you need to tell me.” Irritation overwhelmed suspense. Or perhaps it was simply amplified by it. If he was in over his head, she needed to find another way.
“I was almost there. Then I noticed an error in the code’s execution and had to trace back my steps. Fortunately I left what we call jellybeans, basically a subcode that’s like a shortcut through what I’ve written. If I hadn’t triple-checked, we’d be sky high and flash-fried.”
Jayne smacked her head back against the body of one of the old machines and groaned. “They’ve had enough time to set all the bombs. Why haven’t they been triggered?”
“What, do you want them to go off?”
“You know what I mean!”
“I don’t know,” he answered testily. “Look, I’m trying to focus. If you want this crazy plan of ours to succeed—the only one we’ve got, by the way—then please, shut up.”
Jayne’s eyes widened briefly. He had backbone, after all.
“I’m sorry for telling you to shut up, but I’m just really stressed right now and I’d appreciate some quiet so I can think. Thanks.”
Okay, he had a little backbone. But he was right, and even if she did take the idea to someone else, not only would Fred be ousted, but the expert would probably insist on starting everything from scratch. They didn’t have time for that.
Her stomach soon voiced its own complaint. She hadn’t eaten all day. Fred probably hadn’t either. High stress and no food was a surefire way to crash.
“I’m ordering food,” she told him. He responded with a dismissive wave.
Thirty minutes later, a stocky and muscular student wearing a white delivery apron under a red jacket wandered into the basement, laden with cartons of food.
“Hello?” he called as he walked into the maze of boxes, books, machines, and other debris.
“Over here,” Jayne called from the back.
A few moments and many grunts later, the delivery boy stepped into the eye of the storm that was their work area. He couldn’t have been more than in his early twenties. Long black hair streamed from under his moped helmet.
He smiled as he looked at all the junk. “This place is crazy,” he said in a relaxed tone.
He glanced at Fred and really looked at Jayne, then at the optic whiteboard. “What are you guys doing down here?”
She smiled at him and stood, pushing her chest out. “Fixing this optic whiteboard,” she lied glibly, thumbing at the board behind her. “We’ve got work study. Apparently, the physics department doesn’t care if we get bl
own up along with half the school. They want their precious equipment to work so they don’t have to buy new stuff.”
The delivery man laughed. “No surprise there. This is the fourth danger zone I’ve delivered to today. That’d be some shit, getting blown up by the carelessness of the school because of the shitty job I work to pay the school’s tuition.”
There was a lightness to the driver that Jayne found appealing. She wished he would stay there. It would certainly help alleviate the boredom, even if it did possibly drive Fred to the breaking point. On the other hand, having said driver figure out their true intentions would make things…complicated.
The driver nodded, his helmet bouncing up and down with him. “I’m not saying I don’t appreciate the irony. My degree’s philosophy, after all.”
Jayne would have loved to get philosophical with him, but there wasn’t time. Instead, she put her hands on top of his. She stroked them gently as she coaxed the bag from his fingers and smiled coyly.
His eyes widened and he gaped at her in surprise.
Jayne’s smile turned into a smirk. Seducing people was fun.
“I’d hate for you to get blown up,” she said. “Thanks for coming here. I’ll be sure to leave a good tip.”
The driver lit up like a load of selvanium. “Anytime. Maybe I’ll see you around campus.”
She turned but looked back over her shoulder. “Maybe you will.” She winked.
He smiled and nodded in excitement, then took a shortcut by jumping on each of the textbooks until he had made his way out. Jayne heard his moped start up and zoom off.
Soon Fatt Chinese. Jayne would have to remember to order from there again, even if the food turned out to be shit.
“I can’t believe you revealed my secret meeting location. What if he knew what I was working on? We’d have the cops on us so fast…” Fred’s mood was rapidly deteriorating.
Jayne hoped some food would help balance him. “What did you want me to do? I couldn’t go out myself in case you finished while I was gone. Every moment counts. Now, come on. Let’s eat while we work. You need to finish your program.”
Expelled (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 1) Page 8