StarDestroyer.Net BBS

This isn't really a fanfic. Just a fic, please tell me what you like, and what needs fixing thanks.





“It’s a simple job, go recover the items and bring them back to me. You’ll be well paid, half now, half later.”

Euphemisms I love ‘em ‘Recover’ is probably my favorite one. I’ve lost track of how many items I’ve ‘Recovered’. And before you ask it’s supposed to be capitalized. In this line of work there are jobs and then there are Jobs, nominally they’re the same thing. The difference though, is in the execution, yours. When you work Jobs there’s a much higher chance that some bounty hunter will collect that large sum associated with your name.

My Employer gave no sign of how incongruous his words were. He just sat there smiling his little smile and expecting agreement. Smug, self-satisfied, over-fed … That line of thinking wasn’t getting productive, and if I wasn’t careful some of my thoughts might show on my face, or in my body language, or as I reached for my gun. No, I need to learn to deal with men like this, especially when talking about money like this. Amend that, I need to learn to deal politely with men like this.

“A million is a lot of money, there must be some complication.” Maybe I can learn something valuable, or squeeze a little more fat our way. My Employer looks like he could stand a little squeezing.

“You’ve been given the internal layout, the specifications of the security system, as well as an appraisal of the guard force. I think most of the complications have been addressed, don’t you?” He gives me another smug smile. “The large sum will hopefully ensure your discretion in this matter.”

‘Discretion’ this one usually means that I fake my death, flee the planet, and spend several months on a monastery world contemplating Nirvana. Oh, and don’t talk about the Job. Ever. He’s worried the authorities will find me, and I’ll cough up the details of my sordid Recovery operation, like the instigator of said Job.

“For a million I can be very discrete.” This will mark four times I have been Very Discrete. Already I’m considering the most important part of moving. I’ll have to get a new mistress, the old (well not old, she’s only twenty-two) mistress doesn’t like switching time-zones, changing planets is completely out of the question. The crew isn’t going to be very happy either, but one million (minus expenses) split five ways will smooth over a lot of unhappiness. I suppose if they’re really upset they can just find a pharmacological solution to their misery.

“I can’t help thinking that there’s something you’re not telling me. Discretion is all well and good, but I’ve done jobs like this for a tenth that price. I can’t think that our tact is worth nine hundred thousand.”

He seemed surprised at this statement; maybe he was amazed that I could do sums in my head, or perhaps I didn’t look like the sort who used a thesaurus, or maybe he thought he was the only devious one in his office that day. <sigh> I get tired of being underestimated, it’s useful but annoying. Just once I would like a potential opponent who didn’t see me as just a goon.

“Ok two million” His porcine face started to sweat. “I think that’s more than fair, you have everything you need.”

Think fast. Take the money or push for more information, can’t do both. He’ll only take so much squeezing before he decides to get someone else. Besides I’ve got a good crew, we can do complicated, we specialize in it. <shrug> “Alright we’ll do your simple little job”

hmm, looks interesting so far. I want to see more.

I'll probably have a longer one up sometime today.

Meet and Greet


A million is very heavy. This wasn’t a problem I had planned for. Mr. Jowls was good enough to provide a car, the first half of the payment riding in the back. But our “hideout” wasn’t in a place that a hover-limo could reach. The fans began whirring over-time once the driver began trying to negotiate the dirt road. After two stalls he looked helplessly at me. Another mental sigh, I shouldn’t expect any help lugging the funds around. I doubt if the driver could tip the scales at 50 kilos, on a humid day, after eating a large turkey dinner. Maybe my Employer was compensating for something, whatever the reason it was more thoughtlessness, I guess he was just assuming a big strapping boy like myself could handle a little hardship. <sigh> I hate being stereotyped as the muscle.

“Well I’d better be off.” No point chit-chatting I’m sure the driver is a nice fellow, but there’s no way he can handle any of the loaded bags I’ve got.

“Can I be of any assistance?” It was a pro forma offer, but I like it when people observe common decency. I live in a brutal, cold, and impolite business, a little gentility every now and then makes it all livable.

“Thanks Monsieur Pneus, but I doubt our mutual employer counted on you wading through a muddy barnyard as part of the delivery service. I’ll be fine from here.”

I was actually a little touched when he made another offer of assistance. So it was more than pro-forma, it was actual honest-to-goodness… goodness. In this line of work that was as rare as hens (we’ve domesticated an alien bird that’s more prolific and productive than its Earth counterpart). I declined and sent him on his way, with a tip. Which leaves me here, lugging several large duffels jam-packed with currency. I’m currently cursing the lack of amenities on my “ranch”, no phone, no security cameras, no paved roads, I get to hike a full kilometer, through mud, uphill, to the house, Joy.

Twenty minutes of muddy, back-aching, fun finally saw me to stoop of the house. It’s time to meet the crew. I kick open the door and deposit my load of cash, and mud at the door.

“Captain, I just cleaned the floor, can’t you at least wipe your feet outside?” Meet Tess, medic and domestic goddess, we’ve been on this planet for two years running various jobs. She’s an idealist, a damn fine doc, and a dreamer. Her idealism has kept us from killing anyone in the course of our business. Her medic training has kept the seriously injured from expiring. Her day-dreaming has me pulling my hair out after each new scheme. As an example one of her first acts when we got here was to purchase the ranch, without consulting me, with My money, with My name on the mortgage: not an alias either, my Real name, I’m worried about the latter, mostly because credit companies can be ruthless, and they always find you, they’re better at it than the feds. Now she runs it like it's her ranch, and she makes a surprising profit on it too.

“Is something amiss Tess?” came a rumbling bass voice.

“Oh the captain is just being messy again.”

Heracles came around the corner into the kitchen. Readers meet Heracles, I’m not sure what species he is, and I’m personally convinced that two or three of him could take over the galaxy. He’s a carnivore, big needle teeth, claws that can rend metal, low-light vision, plus that tough scaly hide of his. “Captain, I do wish you’d show a little more respect for the effort Dr. Kareena puts into maintaining your home.” I turned to respond to his displeasure and looked up, and up, and up, I was greeted by 2.2 meters of muscle and bronze scales, and bike shorts, somehow Tess managed to convince him to wear bike shorts around the house (did I mention that she’s also persuasive?). I want to say something sarcastic, insulting, but it’s futile, his armor plated hide is proof against low caliber pistol rounds, my barbed whit wouldn't even make an impression. The man (he is male) is, amoral, stolid, dependable, hard-working, and as imaginative as a brick. He’s the practical side of Tess, her schemes work because she’s married to a reptilian demi-god. When we (by we I mean Tess) bought the ranch most of the work of renovating fell to Herc (he hates being called that, prefers the Greek form of his name). Unfortunately we didn’t have purpose built stables, just a barn, but the work of cleaning it was worthy of a Trial of Heracles.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that our employer sent a car that couldn’t handle mud. The bags were a little heavy.” Complaints about the mud seemed to vanish as they got a look at the large pile of currency. It’s amazing how a little cash can put things in perspective.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Captain, but that looks like twice what we originally agreed upon. Are there any complications in the original plan?” Damn, Heracles gets right to the point, practical as always.

“Did someone say complications?” There was a thunder of footsteps and another crew came downstairs looking tousled, and tired. “Ooh, it looks like we’re getting paid twice as much as normal. Should make for an interesting Job.” Pilot, Engineer, and “Technical Consultant” Frank Jindal fixes all the technical problems, alarms, cameras, bank vaults, spark plugs, plumbing, whatever seems to take his fancy. Unfortunately he’s hard to pin down, he likes new and interesting puzzles and invests huge amounts of energy into solving them, but if you give him a problem that he’s seen before and you won’t get his best work, you’re actually lucky to get any work at all from him. Once to keep him occupied and away from my car I gave him a book of those magic squares with the Japanese name. It didn’t go precisely as planned, he was bored after solving the first dozen or so, so he wrote an algorithm to solve the rest. Two weeks later I saw his name in the local paper for the submission of , “Solving NP-Complete problems using the Mandlebrot Fractal” apparently he had “revolutionized algorithmic design”. I don’t mind that he has a hobby, I just wish he could have an anonymous one.

“Did someone say we’re getting paid more?” Ah the last member of the crew his favorite things in order are, women, money, guns, cars, and Shakespeare. Don’t ask about the Shakespeare, as far as I can tell he misunderstands the concept of tragedy. Aaron think irony makes for good clean fun. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy, he’s the only employee who I can predict. He’s not going to rewire my speakers, or “improve” my gun, or spend my money without my permission, or eat a whole cow (Heracles likes to do that on occasion, I’ll leave you to match the other misdeeds to their respective reprobate).

“Well it seems we have a quorum. That’s good because we have a Job.” Silence, I can tell when things aren’t as simple as they appear, and they trust my judgement. Even the normally effervescent Tess sobers up. “There are some complications, El Grando did not want to give any more info about the Recovery so instead he doubled our pay. And we’re going to have to be discreet.”

Protests:

Tess didn’t want to leave, the Mare just had twin foals, we’ve almost paid off the farm, the weather is perfect here. Plus Monastery worlds are boooring.

Frank was busy upgrading something or other, plus the local University was offering him tenure (How did he arrange that? He didn’t even have the patience to finish High School)

Heracles “I’m with Tess” which explained everything nicely.

Aaron wasn’t exactly keen on leaving, he had three or four local girls, and apparently he didn’t like starting over. Plus this planet has polygamy laws, it’s a rare thing to be able to legally settle down with four women, not something you’re keen to throw away.

And of course the complications, only Frank likes complications, they want to cancel the job, stay here <sigh>. Time for some persuasion. I pick up the duffels lug them over to the table and drop. It’s not a very sturdy table and the results are predictable. I believe I mentioned “A million is very heavy”.

“Moving has lots of problems associate with it. Money can solve most of them. Tess we can ship your horse, or buy a new one. Frank, there are other non-podunk Universities where you can get tenure, maybe you can even get your GED somewhere. Heracles, you’re with Tess. Aaron, do you really want to be married? Do you really want to be married to four women?”

“It’s actually five” he interjected.

“Well, however many.” I knew he was good, but five!?!? “The point for all of us is, that this money represents a big opportunity. This big of a score can do a lot for us. With something like this we can retire if we want.” I’d said it, the dream that every crook has, make the big one, go legit, stop looking over our shoulders, and live the good life. I had them, whatever protests they had now would not be insurmountable, we could deal with them later, for now it was time to plan.


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If you notice stuff you think I should change, please post and let me know, this is my first attempt at a fic, I'd like to improve as a I go.

Thanks for reading

This is an awesomely irreverent story. I especially like that Frank solved P/NP out of boredom.

Thanks, Its my first attempt, I'm glad someone likes it

Ego++

Its good. I like the Motley crew.

I apologize for the delay, and the slightly slipshod feeling on this section. I don't think my editing was very good this time around, if you notice obvious mistakes please note it. And If you would be good enough to note areas that I could improve I'd appreciate it. Thanks for reading.




Part III

“We’ll figure it out as we go” is NOT a plan.


I don’t think anyone truly considered the magnitude of the score we were about to make. The pile in front of them was an elegant and succinct reminder of what you could do with a million, for starters you could crush a rickety kitchen table under its weight. This method of persuasion had its drawbacks. Our crew suddenly found itself short of a vital commodity: large horizontal surfaces around which the planning of a caper might take place. This was only a temporary setback, and I was feeling expansive.

“Heracles, would you be good enough to bring me a wall?”

“Which one?” asked Heracles. Did I mention that he was strong? Well he’s very strong, and literal, so if someone were to ask him for a wall he wouldn’t even bat a hypothetical eyelash (he’s also reptilian, the only eyelashes he possesses are hypothetical, or worn as part of some thing he does with Tess-which I won’t spend any time contemplating thank you very much).

“Something white, with as much surface area as you can find, we’ll replace it later.”

A short while later we were seated around a six foot square section of wallboard and two by fours. Since I’m the boss, I’ll begin. “First a recap, the target is in a private museum. We have its dimensions provided by our employer. His Eminence has also seen fit to provide us the numbers of guards, the types of security systems, and the floor plan. This is where I’ll need you Frank. I’ll need you to get us the floor plans to confirm what we have is correct.”

“That sounds easy.” If anyone but Frank said that it would be just another observation but coming from Frank it’s a whining complaint. I need to head this off quickly. If he gets bored, he gets petulant and then we don’t get his best work, if we get any work at all.

“That’s not all, you need to make sure that no one knows we’ve stolen the plans.” Frank’s still looking sullen and rebellious, I need something else to occupy him. “I’d also like it if you could get some views from the internal cameras so we can see the guards’ routes.” Now the unhappiness in his face is warring with excitement at the prospect of getting new toys to crack security. Hmm, I need to make this job more challenging. “Our target can hire good private security, they’re certain to have the best in computer security, and you need to crack it without letting them know we’re coming.” He’s sold, we’ll get good work from him.

“We can’t plan how to avoid the guards until we know where they are in the building. But we can still do a general plan on how to “Recover” the item.” Eyes roll over this, five years of this business have dampened everyone’s reaction to the usual euphemisms. Even Herc seems to be growing tired of them, which is odd when you consider how normally patient he is. Perhaps I’ve overused that phrase? I suppose that the novelty wears off after it’s been used a time or two or... three or four ... thousand. Oh well I can’t help it if my crew has no appreciation for tried and true comedy.

“I’d personally like to avoid doing anything serious to any of the guards.” I direct a pointed look at Aaron and Herc, I’d say Herc looks sheepish, but nothing with three inch needle teeth ever looks sheepish. I’ll settle for compliant, which is what I’m getting. “I’d personally like to leave no traces of the theft, no drugged guards, no broken cameras, no fingerprints. I don’t want them to know anything happened until they crack the safe.”

“That’s a tall order boss. You’re talking about twenty guards who are covering three floors and there are IR sensors everywhere. If we didn’t mind leaving a trace, we’d just gas the rental cops and be done with it.” Aaron is about as subtle as a hand-grenade, sometimes that’s a good thing, but not today.

“The grandee who hired us would probably be upset by the attention. He’s made no mention of what he intends to do with the item, but if we attract a great deal of attention His Profundity may have trouble moving it off-world. Discretion is also part of the deal, if we gas twenty guards then there has obviously been a theft by outside parties, if something disappears from a safe with no obvious signs of violence then it’s an accounting error, or someone on the inside. Either way, we can leave without worrying about too much scrutiny from the authorities.”

“Boss, I’m sure this is very interesting, but if you want me to deal with the computers I’m going to need the security system specs, and then I’ll draw up a shopping list.” He sounds so innocent about “shopping” that I fully expect 300 kilos of servers to turn up on the doorstep. I’ve washed my hands of this part though, I’m no longer remotely curious about how he finds what to buy. The last time I asked I got strange answers like “Teh InterWeb”, “SearchSter.com”, and “Little Tubes”. I don’t even worry about price, he said something about “Galaxy wide auctions”, “over 5 trillion listings” and other such arcanum. I’ve generally learned not to pry too deeply into Frank’s business, I don’t have the nerves for it. By nerves I mean grey matter, SearchSter.com is more than I can understand; I don’t even try to decipher “Little Tubes”.

“Sure, go plan your shopping list, we’ll figure out how to gain entry. Oh, and make sure you get us some a new copy of the floor plans, just in case.”

“I’ll get you the floor plans. But after that I’m going to need some alone time with just me and the security system specs.” I have this nagging suspicion that Frank is not as oblivious to social niceties as he seems. He always manages to say the most clearly inappropriate thing, or the thing which most confirms his geek-ness. I’m never completely convinced that he’s gotten wise, though. It would imply that Frank knows how we feel about him, and I’m sure I’d have a clue of that. If I haven’t told you, I’m very observant, and subtle, very subtle, Frank has no idea what my real feelings are (I think).

That leaves Herc, Aaron, Tess and myself to pour over the building plans. We’re looking for nooks, dead space, anything that we can use to hide our penetration of the museum. The first look is at the air ducts, unfortunately they’re too tight, none of us can fit in them. The next look is for dead space in the walls, building codes on this world specify a minimum separation for supporting members, and a minimum wall strength (most folks have planet-quake worries). There are few likely candidates here, due to an odd quirk of local government. In my travels I’ve seen all sorts of corruption, but this planet has produced some truly creative bureaucracy. Apparently the local building supply business has a deep and heavy hold on the planetary government. Instead of standard interior walls, Gypsum on most worlds, the World Government has mandated a domestically produced ferrous substitute (nick-named Iron-boards). Cutting through this stuff isn’t easy, and the tools we’d need to do it quickly would make our entry into the museum a very noisy affair. This is unfortunate, as our standard way of quietly moving around in places we’re not supposed to be, is via interior walls. Every single wall has this stuff. Our preferred method looks worse and worse.

Not-coincidentally as each potential ingress is eliminated Aaron looks more and more pleased. I don’t know why he gets such a thrill from the possibility of violence, but he does, did I give you the impression that he’s a peaceful man? Well I apologize, he’s not, he’s a simple man, a violent, simple man. I know he advocated gassing the guards, but that doesn’t work perfectly, optimal gas dispersion never works as planned, or some guard puts a mask on, which leaves someone that Aaron can go “deal” with. I don’t mean to imply he’s a nut, he just needs a release every now and then.

Contrasts, while Aaron is looking inordinately pleased with himself, Tess is looking more and more morose. “This looks horrible Boss. You know the last time we used gas, three guards nearly died from allergic reactions.” An otherwise perfect caper had ended stressfully. I don’t like the idea of killing people because I don’t want some kid seeking revenge for the death of his father. Tess doesn’t like killing because it’s wrong, whatever our reasons, we were both biting our nails until the guards pulled through.

“This is ridiculous, as long as the guards are awake we can’t steal shit.” Sometimes Aaron impresses me with his lyricisms, his clever turn of a phrase, this is not one of those times.

“I disagree.” Frank came thundering back down the stairs with a new copy of the building plans, apparently he’s found something useful. “I’ve got a copy of the builder’s plans, they’re different from the officially filed ones in a few special areas.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense, let’s see how we’re going to break in.” I don’t like dramatic pronouncements unless I’m making them, did I mention I sometimes tend to egotism?

“Sure, but after that I’m going to need you to pick up a few things.” Frank tosses me a little black notebook (I don’t think anyone has explained to him that men don’t own little black books).

Frank wrote: The List:
Caffeine - 1.4 Liters
Vanilla Extract - 5 Liters
Milk - 8 Liters
Creamer – 2 Liters
Sugar - .3 Liters
Cheezy-PoofZ-10 Kilograms

I look helplessly at the gibberish Frank has presented me. Tess, seeing my confusion offers to help.

“That’s not a problem at all. He just needs 10 double shots of GalaxyBux French Vanilla, and some bags of artery clogging….”

“…Goodness” Interrupts Frank.

“Fine” I say “You’ll get your insane amounts of caffeine, and CheeZ-ThingZ”

“They’re actually called Cheezy-” Frank starts to say before I cut him off.

“Whatever they are, I’ll make sure you get them. For now, we’re just going to need to know how to break through the interior walls of the museum.”

“Well it has to do with what Aaron was saying, you know how we couldn’t steal shi-. Er stuff.” Frank has always been a little shy about “Profanity” one of his more endearing traits. “Well, that’s actually literally incorrect. The folks who built the museum were running late by the time they got to finishing the bathrooms. So normally they’d cut holes in the Iron-board, so that it could be fitted around the plumbing in the loo. Fortunately for us, they’d broken their laser saw, so they just used some cheap knock-off in lieu of the real thing. All we have to do is climb through the walls of the bathrooms, and we’re in.”

“That sounds easy, but there’s got to be a catch.” Tess doesn’t trust the easy route, she often catches the wrinkles that I don’t notice.

“Well…” He’s looking hesitant, whatever the catch is, it’s not going to be a pleasant one. “The only way we’re going to get easy access to the bathroom plumbing is if we climb through some sewage pipes, full of …. sewage, and, stuff.” We’re all gaping at this pronouncement, I guess he thinks he wasn’t explicit enough, so he decided to elaborate. “You know … Shit.”

A month and a half since the last one, sorry . If you'd be good enough to leave any comments, good/bad/needs work I'd be grateful. Also any specific criticisms, grammar and the like would be appreciated


Chapter 4: A Pleasant hike

Well, this is the unpleasant part, the part everyone has been dreading. Our trek through the sewers was aided greatly by the use of “dry suits” effectively isolating us from the environment, and the smells of the sewers. Our journey was further aided by the fact that no one puts security monitors into the sewers. At the end of a two mile trek we found ourselves at the junction between the main sewage line and the museum line. This would be our ideal entry point. This is also where we need Frank, who is sitting in an unmarked van, an air-conditioned, unmarked van, Frank is not sitting in the sewers.

Fortunately we’ve been toting a cable which hooks up to a transmitter which hooks up to Frank, who is not sitting in an overheating dry suit, in a smelly sewer. But he is instead seated in a comfortable, air conditioned van - eating junk food. Sorry about the jealousy, back to Frank.

“Frank we’re at the junction, we’re going to need you to need you to work your magic.”

“Sure thing boss, no one is in any of the bathrooms. I’m going to shut down sewage flow for about 5 minutes. Starting… Now”

Damnation, he didn’t even give us a chance to set up the laser cutter. If we weren’t so busy trying to cut into the pipe, I’d be chewing out Frank. Right now Herc and I are wrestling the cutter into place, we back it up with a one-way permeable screen to allow us entry while still sealing in the sewage. Elapsed time 2 minutes, start cutting. The Cutter is set up to take a circular chunk out of the pipe. With one minute remaining it’s just about finished cutting. 45 seconds left, barely enough time to set the force screen into the opening, double check that it’s permeable in the proper direction, and turn it on before all hell (in the form of a stream of sewage) breaks loose. 10 seconds left, and everything is set properly, now I can turn to important matters.

Like disciplining a certain impulsive computer support guy. Herc and I share a look, he nods to me, apparently he doesn’t believe he is sufficiently loquacious for the upcoming task. Wonderful, I get to explain a few things to Frank. Five profanity laced minutes later he pledges that he will in the future “more properly observe principles of synchronization.” I look to Tess, the resident expert on Alien Languages.

“That means he’s sorry Boss. It also means that next time you get to say go.” I suspect that there is more to “principles of synchronization” than who says go, but I’ll settle for that explanation.

I suppose I should be satisfied that we didn’t get sprayed in the face while setting up the cut. “Alright that’s enough talk, let’s go do some honest thievery.”

“Sure thing Boss, you want to go first?”

“No that would be rude Tess. Ladies first, I insist.”

I caught the edges of some foul and unladylike imprecations before Tess cut her mike. She’s normally quite chipper, I guess anyone would be nettled by the prospects of crawling through a sewer, which brings us to the pipe in question.

What we’re attempting to do would normally be impossible, but the planet we’re operating off of has some unusual quirks of government. Odd bits of the building code are actually a symptom of an older problem: Nepotism. It’s probably the third oldest crime associated with organized governments (the first and second being defrauding the taxman, and murdering the taxman.) Here one of the more prolific planetary governors had family involved in the manufacture of both piping, and iron-board. This governor got the legislature to write building codes specifying building materials, and minimum diameter piping, effectively subsidizing the family businesses. The scale of the nepotism is I guess a natural outgrowth of the polygamy that’s also legal on this planet. The upshot is we’ll be crawling through a pipe that could even accommodate the bulk of our employer. It’s unusual the varieties of government…

“Boss, you’re wool-gathering again.” Aaron doesn’t put much store in thinking, especially not when it interferes with the job at hand.

“Sorry, I’m just not looking forward to climbing into a sewer pipe. Why do you think I sent Tess in first?”

“I heard that Boss. You should know that you’re a terrible person, but I forgive you and hope you can one day find peace, or at least more peace than you have right now.”

“Frank I thought, you said that if someone were surrounded by metal that radio waves wouldn’t reach them. Well Tess is sitting in the middle of a pipe right now, how come she can hear me insult her, how come I can still hear her?”

“Well sir, that’s technically accurate, she is sitting inside a Faraday cage.” I’m going to resist the temptation to ask what a Faraday is. “The total amount of metal between the sewers and the museum means we don’t have much chance of communicating by direct radio, which means we have to use the force field generator to run our comm through the sewer pipes. And that is the reason why Tess can hear you badmouthing her.”

It’s probably best that I stop talking now, Tess said she’s going to forgive me, but I think it will be for the best if Aaron goes next. I tap him on the shoulders and send him through.

“I’m coming through now. Go ahead and follow after my Heracles” I say, getting in behind Aaron, if I’m lucky Tess will assume Aaron is me. A little aside about Tess, she doesn’t hold grudges, instead she acts on her anger immediately. That’s the primary reason that she’s always so happy, she gets rid of her negative emotions as quickly as possible. When people complain that she’s a doctor and she’s supposed to heal not harm, she quickly points out the first stages of the healing process are often painful.

Crawling through the large sewer pipes turns out to be much less unpleasant than I thought. The water pressure is low, and there are very few solid impediments, but I’m still delighted by the fact that I’m in a hermetically sealed suit. Looking at the small amount of water currently coursing through the pipes makes me wonder about the necessity of our force screen projectors, I guess the one Tess is using on her end was unnecessary.

About halfway through the pipe I’m rewarded with an “Ouch, what was that for Tess?” from Aaron. That is quickly followed by some muttered conversation and then, “Boss, you’re a horrible person, and I’ll never forgive you. I hope you never find peace in this life.” Also from Aaron., and then “Ouch, Quit kicking me Tess.”

“Don’t say those sorts of things about the Boss, he’s very sensitive.” After a few years working with Tess I quite agree that I’m sensitive, although not emotionally, it’s more of a sensitivity to physical injury, what you might call an aversion, or maybe it’s just bruised shins. Although I don’t think I’ll point that out to Tess, not after I’ve so recently been forgiven.

Five more feet of pipe and I’m in. Another minute and Herc, is crawling out of the pipe. Everyone sobers up quickly, this is the ticklish part. Four of us, with Frank watching the security monitors, against twenty museum guards. “Well this should be interesting”

edited once for some spelling and grammar 1/14/07 4:18pm, Mountain Time

Chapter 5: Entry


We emerged into a dank basement area, it seems mostly dedicated to storage. There’s a metal door and a dim light about 10 meters in front of the pipe we exited. To our left there is a pipe running up into the bathrooms of the building. Time to spring into action, or rather time for everyone else to spring into action, I’ll supervise.

“Heracles, and Aaron get climbing. Tess, you get our equipment over here.”

“Boss, I’m afraid Aaron won’t be climbing anywhere. It’s my medical opinion that due to an unforeseen accident his shins aren’t up to the task of climbing. I’m afraid you’re going to have to follow after Heracles.”

I hate it when Tess doesn’t forgive me. I usually end up doing things I don’t like: shoveling manure, cleaning the kitchen, mouth to mouth resuscitation on a man or a lizard-man. In this case I’ll have to be a quarter of the muscle, Herc and I will be climbing up the third floor of the museum, and then we’ll haul up the gear and the rest of the crew. I hate being the muscle, my chosen job-title is evil-genius not thug.

“Boss, it’s Frank. The guards just finished their break. The third floor bathrooms are clear and will probably be so for the next half hour. I recommend that you get started right away.”

Nuts, that precludes me convincing Aaron or Tess to take my place I better start climbing. One of the nice things about having an giant anthropomorphic lizard on my crew is that he happens to physically adept at just about everything. In this case, his claws make him a superb climber. Herc’s passage leaves very hand foot and hand holds, making the going much simpler than one might believe. In no time we’ve reached the third floor and now we’re ready to start hauling equipment and people I’ve brought along a pulley just in case, but Herc waves dismissively.

“Alright Tess we’re ready for you to hook yourself up.”

“I’m on Boss, pull me up.”

Herc grabs the rope and begins to pull it up. The truly astounding thing is how little it bounces, Heracles doesn’t allow the rope to slip and in less than 20 seconds Tess is standing on some next to us at third floor level.

Did I mention that I hate being the muscle? Well I need to amend that, I also hate being superfluous. Right now all I am is an observer, I am here to witness the physical spectacle that is Herc at work. In less than a minute he’s hauled up our equipment and Aaron. I’ve been reduced to a supernumerary, an extra, an appurtenance, a….

“Boss, we’re getting ready to cut into the bathroom. Are you sure that now is the right time to be reading a thesaurus?”

“Sorry Aaron I’ll be right with you.” Appurtenance, that’s a good one, I think I’ll mark that one. And here’s another reason I don’t like to be first, I don’t get any decent chances to ruminate, instead everyone’s always clamoring for my attention when I could be thinking deep thoughts, or coming up with our next scheme or….

“Boss?”

“Right, sorry. Frank is the bathroom clear?”

“Yeah Boss. Go ahead and cut your way in now.”

None of us were prepared for what happened next.



Suggestions and criticisms welcome. Or if not welcome, I promise I'll consider them.

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I'm really enjoying this, and I can't wait to see how it goes.

Chapter 6: Requisition


My mother always warned me about the terrible places that I might end up if I turned to a life of crime. Before today I thought she was exaggerating, or maybe referring to what would happen if I got caught. But she spoke true wisdom. From the looks on their faces apparently my cohort agrees with me. Tess was the first to speak.

“Lime green with pink trim, ugh..”

I think it’s telling that after a two kilometer hike through sewers the greatest disgust any of us experienced was over the décor in the bathrooms. Aaron summed things up succinctly.

“I am unmanned, unmended and unmade.”

I’m not sure about unmended, (we have nice synthetics that don’t fray very often) but I think I can agree with the sentiment. I happen to be feeling a little nauseous myself.

“Frank, we’re in the bathroom, is it clear to move out? Please say yes. We really need to get out of here.”

“Sorry Boss, but I’m seeing three or four guys in your wing of the museum. Their normal patrolling should get them in another wing in a couple of minutes. You should probably be quiet ‘til they get past.”

I direct a pointed look at Aaron who’s making retching motions (and their accompanying noises). At least the torture will only be short-lived; but I dislike this enough that if there’s ever time I intend to look up the interior decorator of this place. I’m not planning on threats or intimidation. I was actually hoping to get some advice, so that if I ever need to decorate anything I can do the exact opposite.

“Alright boss, they’re clear, move out now. Take the first right, and wait for me to give you the go signal.”

“On the way.” I don’t have any evidence -this is just a suspicion- but I think Frank enjoys giving orders. Nah, he’s just doing his job, he’s not going to have us do anything untoward

“Alright boss, I’m going to need you to take a left. That will put you in the gallery of Eros, you’ll stay put there until you can move on to the security offices and the Vault.”

Gallery of Eros, that sounds interesting. I’m having some trouble remembering my ancient mythologies, but I think that was some harvest God. This will probably be a retrospective on ancient cultures and crops, it might be educational, maybe I can learn…

We turn around the corner and enter the gallery. Nope Eros was definitely not a god of the harvest. But apparently someone is finding this educational; I could swear Tess is taking notes.

“Ok Boss, you need to find the security door at the back of the gallery. It’s next to the Dedication of the Eleuthorii.”

“You mean the mural with the parental advisory?”

“Yeah that’s the one, there should be a recessed door to the right. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get the code to this door, so I’m going to need you and Aaron to do a little work to open it up. You’re going to have to give him a boost so he can reach the above the door to access some security wires. You’ll be using the Scrambler (patent pending).”

I have to amend my previous suspicions about Frank. I now know he likes bossing me into untoward positions. To recap: My back is to the wall, Aaron is standing on my hands facing the wall, I have to hold this position, and we’re right next to some very interesting artwork, in the middle of the gallery of Eros. What was it Aaron said? “I am unmanned.”

Fortunately Frank’s gear works quickly and the door opens. Now we have our first look at the Vault. I have to admit I’m underwhelmed. It’s capitalized on the schematics, so I’ve been expecting one of those massive circular bank vault doors from the historical holo-dramas. Instead there are doubled steel doors, a keypad, and a thumb scanner. I’d actually been nursing a secret hope that we’d get to blow the doors off with explosives, I need to quit getting crime advice from Aaron.

“Alright Frank, it’s time to work your magic.”

“Ok boss, the code is 26418. Then go ahead and scan your thumb.”

“There’s no way that my thumb scan is going to work. Won’t it set off an alarm or something?”

“Don’t worry about it Boss, you’re now an employee of the Novaya Prospekt antiquities museum, and your thumb print will get you in.”

“You didn’t use my real name did you?” I hate leaving a trail, even an electronic one. “Make sure you delete me from the system, oh and what was my job?”

“The title was something managerial. I know you hate being a grunt. So I made you a paper pusher instead.”

That was considerate of him. “Just make sure you delete me when we’re done with this, I can’t see a good reason to stay employed.”

“Are you sure Boss? They’ve got a good health plan”

“Do they have dental?” Asked Tess. It only makes sense she’d be interested; Herc’s dental care is a non-trivial expense.

“Maybe we can do this at a more appropriate time, when there aren’t people around whose duties include arresting people like us.” Tess shoots a glare at me, maybe I should offer a dental plan. Amazingly enough entering the code and scanning me thumb was a remarkably alarm free event. Frank is really on his game.

“Ok boss the crate you want is six shelves left halfway down the aisle, labeled KRN-1AX, it’s on the third shelf.”

Fantastic, we’ve got it and we’re ready to leave the museum. I’m amazed, except for a few undignified moments this has proved to be a remarkably easy and painless job. I guess my instincts were wrong, this hasn’t been complicated at all.


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As always any feedback would be appreciated. But in particular, if you notice any grammar or punctuation errors to correct It would help. My approach to punctuation is to use commas everywhere, unless Word underlines it, in which case I switch it for a semi-colon. I think that's probably not the preferred method, so if anyone can provide proper grammar advice I will be grateful.

I realize it's a minor issue but the Eleutherii is supposed to be the genitive case of Eleutherios. I don't know what declension it's supposed to be, plus I've forgotten all of my declensions, and lost my latin primer :'(

Chapter 7: Complications


I'm stunned, this job gave me that feeling. Something was going to go wrong we were going to face serious opposition, traps, combination locks, ravenous dogs, bloodthirsty guards, and legions of security systems. Instead, we strolled into a glorified warehouse and took a box off of a shelf. If I ever read a story like that I will demand my money back. Such an author deserves nothing but scorn, derision, and a snazzy custom title. *1*

The escape from the museum turned out to be even simpler, apparently all the floor guards were on a stimulant-break. The only hang-up was Tess; she wanted to make a thorough survey of the Gallery of Eros. Unfortunately Frank was no help, he decided to play tour guide for Tess. Every time I suggested we move on Frank had some excuse or other, about unforeseen obstacles or cameras with a blind-spot. It wasn't until Tess finished cataloguing the Trials of Pan that Frank said we could move.

Now some of you may wonder if I availed myself of the available learning opportunity. Nope, both Aaron and I sat staring fixedly at the only plain floorspace in the entire Gallery. I just need to tell you, two straight men cannot make appropriate small talk in the middle of the Gallery of Eros. Of course Herc is no help he was apparently busy taking instructions from Tess. This is why they tell you to avoid office Romances. Everything goes wonderfully, then you find yourself marooned in the Gallery of Eros, and your office romance has suddenly turned your coworkers into fifth repulsorlifts. *2*

After an interminable wait Tess was finally done, and amazingly Frank said we were clear to leave the lobby. Quite the coincidence. You should know I don't like coincidences, they make me grumpy.

Sorry to ruminate, so aside from a scenic detour, leaving the museum was remarkably simple. The guards were nowhere to be seen, and we were quickly rapelling down from behind the bathroom to reach the basement.

Frank shut off the water and we were moving back through the pipes into the sewer, and safety. I'd just like to note that if I'd have known that I would use safety to refer to a sewer, that I would have picked a different profession. In contrast, I don't think Dentists ever regard the sewers as a safe location.

Maybe Mom was right, maybe I should have been an Engineer. I don't think Engineers make a living in the sewers, except for Civil Engineers but they're a special class all their own; God is a civil Engineer *3*.

"Well it looks like we're done. So, Frank, are you ready to pick us up?"

"I've got some bad news boss. While you were lollygagging in the Gallery a parade started up here. "

"A parade? I thought you said that our entry and exit plan were clear for a week. So what's the deal with this parade, how could you have missed it?"

"I made a mistake, I was basing things off of Sidereal days, these folks use Solar days, and I mixed up the calendars. I'm sorry Boss, I got sloppy."

"Well can we leave while it's going on?"

"Unfortunately, no. The parade, well, it's a Police Officer type parade. These are the planet's finest. "

"Well how long is it going to last?"

"I'm not sure" Frank sounds miserable, he should this is a terrible oversight, plus Frank doesn't like to be helpless, or to be without information.

"How can you not know Frank? Isn't it listed by some sort of planning commision or other?" This planet loves its bureacracy, they require permits for everything, so hopefully the length of the parade will be listed somewhere.

"It's not listed anywhere, the permit is an indefinite permit, meant to coincide with two business conventions that are proceeding at the same time."

"Well don't keep me waiting. What conventions are designed to coincide with a Police Parade?"

"Baked Goods, and Stimulant Drinks." I have no response to that, so Frank decides to elaborate a little. "You know like Donuts and Coffee."

"Team I've got some bad news, we may be stuck in the sewer for a few days."

Footnotes
*1* like "Who?"
*2* Sorry, I've occasionally been trying to FUTURIZE old sayings, this was supposed to be 'fifth wheel'
*3* PM me for the joke

Chapter 15/2: Complications Redux


It’s hard out here for an interstellar pirate/thief/thug. There are only two major perks. 1) The rewards you receive are generally far out of proportion to the work needed to “procure” those rewards. 2) In general a pirate/thief/thug can pick his jobs, this makes it possible to avoid things that might steal your soul or melt you. I’m told that that’s one of the worst occupational hazards of archaeology. That right there is the biggest reason I avoided ancient languages in college, that and the Ablative Case, I have a burning hatred of the Ablative Case. Unfortunately, despite all its perks, being an interstellar pirate/thief/thug has its downsides. Like now, I find myself sitting in a hot, stuffy, sweaty environment suit, with my oxygen steadily decreasing. In two minutes my air will be gone and I will be forced to expose my delicate nostrils to the fragrant sewer environment.

“What has brought you to this? Why can you not escape from the sewers?” You might ask, if you were a real person - instead of an imaginary friend with whom I’m carrying out a conversation for the purposes of a deluded author’s narrative structure. Well to answer your questions (instead of the implications about the author’s mental state): at the moment 30 feet above my head the planetary constabulary is engaged in revelry involving donuts, coffee, and a parade. Due to the presence of the first two items, the latter action may last for an unspecified, but certainly longish, time. And to further add to the joy, that time will be full of discovery, as I analyze and catalog new and interesting smells.

“Hey boss, while we’re waiting why don’t we get a look at what we’ve stolen?”

Normally I’d disagree with Tess’s suggestion. But normally we steal things that might be explosive, or violent, or it might have big teeth, or it might be really small and easy to lose in the couch cushions (that’s not a happy story so please don’t ask). But this time we stole an artifact from the museum. So all we’re going to do is open the box this thing is stored in. And honestly what harm ever came from opening a box?

“Sure Tess, why don’t you open it up and let’s get a look at what we’ve stolen.”

The museum case is totally unremarkable, and easy to open. Inside sitting on an institutional green cushion is the thing we’ve come to steal: a small, blood red, ornamental hand axe. Tess who possesses the crew’s entire allotment of curiosity picks it up.

“WHO DISTURBS MY SLUMBER?”

When I chose a life of crime instead of a life of archaeology, I hoped to avoid just such an occurrence. My non-scientific survey of the literature and documentaries about archaeologists, suggests that this sort of thing is normally a deadly soul destroying event for those involved.

Hmm, that’s interesting. Going back in my head, over all the imaginary conversations I’ve had with you Imaginary person, I don’t recall ever mentioning Tess’s horns, tail, or wings. After further reflection, that only makes sense due to the fact that Tess didn’t have horns, or a tail or wings until about two minutes ago. I also don’t think I can ever recall her snarling and baring her fangs or claws at me. Part of that is due to the fact that in my recollection she never before had fangs or claws.

Now, Mr. (or Ms.) Imaginary Friend, normally at this point I’d stop to ruminate and philosophize, and try to compose witticisms and puns and paeans to my greatness. But unfortunately a former team-mate has just turned red, grown claws, a tail, horns, and fangs, and she seems unhappy at the moment. So my rumination and composition will need to be postponed whilst I go about the business of surviving, and not having my soul eaten by a demon (-ess because she’ always a woman to me).

But before I go I’d just like to leave you with a little thought. Tess has never done anything like this before. By this I mean the wholegrowing horns, claws, wings, fangs, and a tail, and trying to rend her team-mates asunder thing. She’s never been to the museum before either. Most people would dismiss that coincidence. But not me, I don’t like coincidences, they make me grumpy.




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This was written at a late hour, so grammar/spelling/punctuation corrections are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading. Any feedback is welcome

Hercules to the rescue?

LadyTevar wrote: Hercules to the rescue?

I suppose it's only appropriate that a Reptillian Demi-God wannabe stops a rampaging Demon