The mag-lev system purred as the elevator glided downward, its walls lined with sleek, matte-white panels that reacted to system diagnostics with a rhythm similar to slow heart beats. Soft blue holo-displays shimmered along the edges, cycling through facility schematics and security clearance levels. A touch-sensitive interface hovered midair, its translucent glyphs shifting in response to their forged credentials, the dim glow of status lights reflecting off the stolen McPherson maintenance uniforms.
The most elevator-y corpo elevator.
This elevator reminded Priest of what he considered a low point in his life. Ten years ago, he had been fixing systems, but not anything close to this. Back then, it was air conditioning units and routine maintenance in a cramped, corporate backwater. The kind of work that had no business being handled by someone with his aptitude. But he was doing such jobs, fixing temperamental climate systems in retrofitted public pseudo-parks, the kind where holographic birds flitted across artificial trees, but where the ACs constantly malfunctioned in the worst way possible.
What bothered him, though, was that his employer had never hired him for his skills. No, he had been picked up—almost out of nowhere—because of something far simpler. He was a ‘blank slate,’ someone with no records, no history. His employer had spotted him collecting unopened sauce pads at a public pseudo-park. He had been a pity hire.
The murmurs from Gravel travelled to Priest’s ear as the former adjusted his ID badge, rolling his shoulders as he practiced his lines. To the other side of Priest, Fang tapped at a holo-slate, her lips barely moving as she whispered into her private comm. While she spoke, her fingers flicked through security subroutines, casually silencing any automated surveillance pings. Before she started the call, Gravel had asked why she couldn’t just ‘write a few lines of code’ and shut down the surveillance system for good, and she’d gone off with how the system was designed to ‘detect and counteract unauthorized access attempts’, and how there were ‘offline backups and manual overrides’. Gravel had yawned.
“I know, I know,” she murmured. “You’re busy with your dissertation. But it’s been weeks, Kai. You could at least pretend to miss me. Or, I don’t know, send me a holo-pic of Gonzo.” Gonzo was the name of his feline friend, a cat-like creature the size of a goose.
A pause. Her expression softened. “No, I’m not getting into trouble.” Another pause. “No, I’m not sick. Not turning into an AI. I’m just wearing this really uncool mask.”
Gravel arched a brow, glancing at Hunter. Hunter, with her backpack strapped on her back, snorted at him.
Fang shot them both a glare before turning back to her comm. “I gotta go. Love you, too. Mwah.” She ended the call, tucking the earpiece away just as the elevator dinged.
Hua Fang already compromised the camera system earlier, and she felt like rewarding herself with some lovey-dovey talk with her boyfriend whom she had dated since forever.
Gravel shook his head, grinning. “Remind me again why you, of all people, are dating some upright academic? Does he even know how to hotwire a speeder, or is that too unethical for him?”
Fang scoffed, crossing her arms. “First of all, Kai is brilliant. He’s working on predictive models that could revolutionize interstellar logistics. See; see?” She held up a holo-slate displaying a dense academic paper filled with equations and data visualizations, then turned it off before any of them could have a good look. “Second, he actually reads—like, real books, not just mission briefs and bounties. Third, he—”
“—isn’t here to listen to you gush,” Hunter cut in, smirking.
Fang ignored her. “He’s also ridiculously patient. Do you know how hard it is to find a guy who’ll stay up late just to entertain me with stories about—”
She stopped mid-sentence.
Gravel followed her gaze.
A McPherson security officer stood at the far end of the hallway, checking his datapad. Oblivious, for now.
Hunter exhaled. “Well. That killed the mood.”
Priest, who had been silent the entire ride down, barely moved as he muttered, “Talk later. Move now.”
Fang straightened, slipping seamlessly back into character. “Right. Maintenance team, coming through.”
She stepped forward first. As Gravel was about to follow along, Hunter nudged him with her elbow and said, “Remember your persona. Soldiers don’t budge without orders. No matter how good your story is.”
Gravel just grinned.
The deliberate cadence of their footsteps on the gleaming floor merged with the faint, pervasive drone of servers and equipment. Fang took the lead, clutching a clipboard as if it held the weight of a thousand service requests. Hunter and Gravel flanked her, while Priest lingered just behind, his visor, now transparent and barely visible only to him, quietly scanning for potential threats.
The security officer barely glanced up at first, absorbed in his datapad. But as they drew closer, his gaze flickered toward them, then lingered a second too long.
Fang didn’t hesitate. She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, though the irritation she showed afterward as she flipped through her clipboard was much more convincing. “Oh, great. Security. Just what I needed. Let me guess—nobody put in the system ticket for the cooling unit recalibration, and now we’re supposed to just wave a magic wand and fix it?”
The officer frowned, his grip on the datapad tightening. “I wasn’t informed of any maintenance today.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Fang huffed, gripping the clipboard a bit too tightly. “Because the system is a mess. Corporate cutbacks mean half the facility is running on outdated scheduling software. But sure, let’s all stand around and wait for the server banks to overheat. Your call.” She had to stop herself from using slangs like ‘corpo’ that would definitely raise suspicions.
She turned slightly, ready to march past him without waiting for permission. Gravel made a show of checking his wrist device. “Yeah, clock’s ticking, buddy. This isn’t the kind of problem you want to let slide.”
The officer didn’t say anything. His eyes darted between them, then to his datapad. Priest’s visor overflowed with new data—his pulse had elevated slightly, but no immediate alert had been sent. He was wary, but not suspicious enough to sound the alarm. Yet.
Gravel decided to help things along. He let out a long-suffering groan. “If you want to clear it with admin, go ahead—just know that—” Then he hesitated as he saw Hunter’s eyes boring into his.
Gravel straightened and adjusted his tone. “Look, we’re not here to cause trouble. We’re on scheduled maintenance, and if there’s an issue, you need to check with your superior. Call it in. We’ll wait.”
The officer exhaled sharply, considering. Then, with a grunt, he stepped aside. “Fine. But keep it quick.”
Fang flashed a tight, professional smile. “We’ll be done in a jiffy.”
They walked past without breaking stride, but of course, not without Hunter giving Gravel a subtle sideway stare and making sure he felt it. Only when they rounded the corner did Fang exhale, whispering into her comm, “And that, gentlemen, is how you fake your way through corpo bureaucracy.”
“A jiffy? Really? Is that the new teencode these days?” Gravel asked.
Hunter smirked. “Still doesn’t explain how you managed to date someone so honest.”
Fang rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up and let me work.”
Priest’s visor signalled to him through haptic feedback—THREAT PROXIMITY: LOW. ACCESS POINT: 30 METERS AHEAD.
They were in.
Priest’s visor guided them through the labyrinth of corridors, past sterile-white panels and silent security cameras.
Fang tapped at her holo-slate. “I’m in the network. Patching Vanje through now.”
A soft chime confirmed the connection, and Vanje’s voice crackled in their ears. “Alright, you’ve got a five-minute window before the system notices something’s off. Get what we need and get out.”
Gravel rubbed his hands together. “Smoothest job yet.”
Priest’s lips pressed into a thin line as he looked at Gravel. The man had a habit of calling things done prematurely. A small part of Priest respected it—the sheer, reckless confidence—but in this line of work, it was dangerous.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
To say nothing of the fact that Gravel’s “smooth” jobs always seemed to attract some unforeseen complication down the line.
But it wasn’t just Gravel. The whole team had their little quirks that made Priest’s teeth itch, like small stones rubbing against his heels.
“Don’t jinx it,” muttered Hunter.
“How about sushi after this?” Gravel asked.
“Are we still going on with that?” She glared at him.
Hunter, for example, had a tendency to ask questions. Sometimes she did it to keep herself calm, but it had a way of disrupting the tight, synchronized rhythm Priest preferred. She’d ask questions mid-operation, as though they had all the time in the world to discuss the best angle of attack on a target or the latest gossip from the mercenary circuit.
Fang, meanwhile, had her own way of getting under his skin. She wasn’t as inquisitive as Hunter, but the woman never stopped talking. She was prone to making unnecessary movements and chattering incessantly, whether it was commentary on the job, gossip about some mercenary they’d crossed paths with, or even random thoughts on the most trivial things. Sometimes, Priest swore she could turn a simple task into a five-minute monologue. It wasn’t just the volume—it was the distraction. You could feel the focus slipping from the mission whenever she got started. She would never be like that in front of a control panel, or a holo-screen. But her real-life persona was a different one.
Priest had given them talks, more than a dozen times. “Be careful. Stay quiet. Stick to the plan.”
They’d nod, of course. Fang would even give him that rare, understanding smile. Gravel would slap him on the back and tell him not to worry so much. But out there, on the field, it was like everything he said vanished into the wind, bouncing back like a softball off a brick wall. That kind of respect was a greater kind of disrespect to him.
But this misfit non-functional ragtag of a crew had saved his life from the miserable hellhole he had been in, ten years earlier. For now, he would do what he could to keep them afloat.
They reached the access terminal—an unassuming console tucked between two towering server racks. Priest’s eyes moved in sync with his fingers as he linked into the system. Data began to stream onto Fang’s slate, layer by layer unlocking under Vanje’s remote decryption.
Then, everything stopped.
Priest’s visor flickered—SYSTEM INTERRUPTED. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS FLAGGED.
A chill ran down his spine. Someone else was here.
He turned. And saw her.
Standing just beyond the servers, half-lit by the cold glow of a status display, was Sloan. She looked like a corporate ghost, all sharp edges and a sharper smile.
The slight tilt of her head told Priest everything—Sloan wasn’t surprised to see him. She had been expecting this.
For a second, he wasn’t in a corporate facility. He was back in the underbelly of Helion Prime, rain hammering against rusted steel walkways, his breath ragged as he aimed down his sights. Sloan had been there too—same smirk, same calculating eyes—her pulse pistol steady despite the firefight raging around them. You’re outgunned, Dakarai, she had said, voice smooth over the comms. But I like you. So I’ll give you a five-second head start.
Priest’s hands curled into fists as he pulled himself back to reality.
“Problem?” Gravel whispered, noticing his shift in posture.
Priest didn’t answer. He kept his voice even, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
“Keep working, children. I’ll handle this.”
His visor’s HUD zoomed in on Sloan, scanning for weapons, comm signals, anything that would suggest she wasn’t alone. The results were inconclusive, but knowing Sloan, she didn’t need backup to be dangerous.
It was unsettling how silent Sloan was as she stepped forward. She wore the same tailored corporate security attire as always, crisp and professional, but the glint in her eyes was all mischief. McPherson security is supposed to be different from the city security officer department. Why’s she here? He thought.
“Dakarai,” she drawled, tilting her head. “Didn’t expect to see you breaking into corporate property today. And here I thought you were done with all this . . . extracurricular activity.”
Fang’s hands froze over her holo-slate, eyes darting between Priest and Sloan. Hunter shifted her weight. Gravel’s fingers hovered near his belt, where he had a Morkanian knife tucked under the maintenance vest.
Priest exhaled slowly. “Are you going to call this in?”
Sloan tapped her chin. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”
Priest kept his voice steady. “We walk, and you don’t get a bullet in you when things get messy.”
Sloan chuckled. “Oh, Priest. Always so serious.” She took another step forward, dropping her voice into something almost conspiratorial. “But you know me—I’m not interested in stopping you. I’m interested in what’s behind those firewalls. And lucky for you, I know how to crack them.”
Fang’s brow furrowed. “We already have someone handling that.”
Sloan replied, “Oh, I’m sure Vanje is doing his best. But let’s be real—corporate security is a different beast these days. You want past the deeper encryptions? You need something special. You need me.”
Priest didn’t like where this was going. “And what do you want in return?”
Sloan grinned, and the faint outlines of future crow’s feet creased at the corners of her eyes. “Simple. A favor. No questions asked. No backing out. I’m sure Vanje asked for a similar deal.”
Gravel didn’t wait.
His instincts must have, once again, screamed—this wasn’t negotiation, it was a distraction. They’d seen it before, the way Sloan moved, the way her fingers subtly shifted like she was queuing up a silent alarm.
Nope.
Drawing a compact pulse dart from his belt, he flicked it forward. The tiny projectile buzzed past her ear, deliberately missing.
Sloan dodged out of instinct.
That was all Hunter needed.
Before Sloan could shift weight to counter, Hunter was there. No hesitation, no wasted motion—she flicked her wrist, activating a modified shockwave stunner. A near-invisible pulse rippled out, distorting the air between them in a silent whump.
Sloan’s body locked up mid-step, then collapsed, her limbs going limp all at once. She hit the ground, sprawling like a marionette with its strings cut. Her datapad clattered beside her, screen flickering with half-typed lines of texts. Hunter wasn’t sure if they were security overrides.
Priest’s visor pinged—SECURITY ALERT: CANCELED. ACCESS PROTOCOL OVERRIDDEN.
Hunter exhaled, already stepping over Sloan’s unconscious form. “She was stalling.”
Gravel scoffed. “Obviously. Good call on the ragdoll trick, though. That’s the funniest I’ve ever seen her look.”
Fang didn’t spare Sloan a glance. She was already moving, pulling up their extraction routes. “She won’t be out forever. We need to pick up our damn speed.”
Priest nodded, stepping around Sloan’s limp form, his visor dimming the threat marker on her. COMPROMISED ASSET—IMMOBILIZED.
“She’ll remember this,” he muttered as they started running.
Hunter snorted. “If someone did that to me, I’d hold a grudge forever.”
Fang’s fingers danced across her holo-slate, pulling up the quickest route to the secondary exit. “There’s a maintenance tunnel that feeds into the east service corridor—gets us to the roof access in three minutes if we hustle.”
Gravel was already ahead, sweeping the hallway with a quick glance. “Let’s hustle, then.”
Priest’s visor flickered with updates. SECURITY ALERTS: PARTIALLY SUPPRESSED. PROBABILITY OF REINFORCEMENTS: 72%.
Too high.
They sprinted down the sterile corridors. Fang tapped a sequence into her wrist module, sending a false diagnostic report through the system—delaying security just a little longer.
As they rounded the corner, a metal grate came into view. She slid to a stop and knelt, prying it open with a quick flick of her wrist tool. “In. Now.”
One by one, they dropped into the tunnel below. Of all the lightbulbs above, only one bulb worked, making the place look like a halfhearted horror set. Priest was the last to descend, pulling the grate back into place just as distant footsteps echoed behind them.
The tunnel was tight, forcing them into a crouched run. The air was thick with the scent of old wiring and coolant, and faint emergency lights flickered along the edges.
Fang pulled up the schematics. “Straight ahead, ladder to the roof access in twenty meters.”
Gravel grinned. “Easy.”
Then Priest’s visor sent him another visual cue.
WARNING: HOSTILE SIGNAL—REANIMATING.
Sloan was already waking up. Maybe people on this planet had a different type of tolerance to stunners, or maybe just her.
“Move now,” Priest ordered.
They pushed forward, reaching the ladder in seconds. Fang climbed first, then Gravel. Priest took a final glance back—his visor flashing with a proximity alert.
Sloan was fast. Too fast for someone who’d just been tased two minutes earlier.
The second he grabbed the rungs and pulled himself up, a shadow darted into the tunnel behind him.
Then he heard her voice, hoarse but filled with venom.
“You should’ve killed me. Stun doesn’t work that well against a Mensch.”
Oh yeah, Priest only registered. Just because she looks like an Earthling doesn’t mean she is.
A sharp clink. A tracking dart hit his boot.
Hunter was behind Priest, staring at that dart like she was an intern on her first day staring at the International Space Station. Gravel yelled at her, “Get it off, Hunter!”
Only then, she awoke. Hunter elbowed her backpack with her left elbow, and immediately the backpack vomited a toolkit to her right-hand side, dropping on the spread palm of her right hand that was already waiting. She pulled out a specialized extractor tool with superhuman speed, slid behind Priest and attached it to the dart’s base. The extractor clicked, but the dart stayed in place.
“No time,” Priest told her. Climb. Move. Survive.
Gravel reached down, grabbed his arm, and yanked him through the hatch.
They burst onto the roof—blinding city lights stretching before them.
Fang keyed the remote beacon. “Vanje, we need pickup now.”
Sloan’s voice crackled through their comms, distorted but unmistakably amused.
“You got out. Cute. But you won’t stay hidden. You’re on McPherson’s radar now.”
Priest exhaled. He glanced at his boot—the tracking dart still glowing faintly.
They’d gotten away.
Who's the smoothest talker?
