"Locked Palace" was a large complex, and it took a lot of searching to find the informant-arrestee we was looking for. And even after the local boss was killed, there were still enemies, so I had to stay vigilant.

  There was also a strange feeling on the edge of my mind, like something was wrong. Like I'd forgotten something.

  I stopped and looked at Lily.

  - Listen, do you get that feeling that something's missing?

  - You mean Mr. Artie? - The girl asked. - He's in the process of recovering.

  "Mr. Artie", from Rip&Tear, she called her robot bear. The process of rebuilding him is by no means instantaneous even with digitalization, though I'm not sure why it's taking so long.

  - No, I don't mean him - I shook my head negatively, making a gesture to step away from the door before opening it and checking the room... empty. - Hmm, a persistent feeling that I'd forgotten something.

  - Is the kettle on the stove? - Lily suggested. - Feed the cat? Dailies in game? Pay the mortgage?

  I shuddered.

  - Nah, something far less scary.

  I stopped and made a big, resounding, helmet-shaking facepalm.

  - ...We'd forgotten Jim.

  At least it didn't take long to get back to the "boss arena." Getting down the mercenary, who looks at us reproachfully, was a bit more difficult.

  Several of the prisoners we found in the cells were not the ones we needed. One psycho had to be shot at once, because he threw himself at us as soon as we opened the door, with others... it was different. For example, one psycho drew a circle on the floor in his cell with his own blood, and Lily spent some time pointing out all the mistakes he'd made; the prisoner listened attentively, nodded, then thanked us and closed the door. From the inside.

  All that would have been fine, but that was where I finally got the next level.

  I wouldn't have been surprised to hear "Nobody, no one..." coming from the right cell, but this wasn't Space Balls after all. Our target didn't sing, but still made himself immediately known as we approached.

  - Hey, you're not Shanks' people or Atlasians, are you? - came from a barred cell up ahead. - Moxie's mercenaries.

  I took a closer look at the speaker. The voice sounded nothing like the informant's, and it was clearly female.

  - Yeah, well - whoever it was, I didn't see the point in hiding who we were, even if I wasn't exactly a Moxie mercenary. - Who are you?

  - A, your informant - said a woman in a black, tight suit that looked like an under armor. Modern armor uses them too, and from the looks of her, she hadn't been using it as her primary garment for long. - I used a voice synthesizer to mask my identity.

  - Do we know each other, dearie? - Jim asked. The mercenary frowned, studying the woman.

  - ...We've crossed paths - the woman admitted after a brief pause. She sighed, and explained:

  - Atlas, Omega Squad.

  "Athena, deserter. Changed outfit, style, and lifestyle," - the ECHO reported with a slight delay.

  Jim slammed his fist on his palm.

  - So that's where Shanks got that stuff!

  I raised an eyebrow. Given the rumors, personal teleporters use... Oh.

  - A deserter? - I inquired. The woman visibly gritted her teeth.

  - It's personal.

  - Personal is personal - I shrugged. - Let's get you out of here.

  - What about my stuff? - The lady asked. Quite a nice face, by the way, and a very nice figure. In general, I think women in this world are luckier than men - most of the ugly mutations are due to genome problems in men, sirens are women, and there are very few ugly women (outwardly ugly). Men, however, tend to be much tougher and stronger.

  - What kind of strength? - I inquired.

  - Aspis... a round shield, I mean, and a personal teleporter. Shanka took them.

  Oh, so the whip isn't hers.

  - I have them - I reported, retrieving a pair of wire cutters from storage. I estimated the thickness of the bars, put them back, and pulled out a small circular saw based on the Wave disk. I was hoping to work out the defenses on her equipment and use it myself, but I guess I'll have to give it back to the mistress - we need her information and help. - I'll give it back when I'm sure you can be trusted.

  A brief conversation with Moxie and an exchange of information confirmed that we'd found just the right person, so I gave the lady back her equipment. She didn't need it, though, not yet - though she was clearly relieved to have it back. Well, I'd be pretty nervous on Pandora without a turret and a gun, too.

  She didn't get a gun, though, though I was willing to share one of the trophies, but I wasn't in a hurry to offer one myself. The location was already mostly cleared. Although...

  - Are you aware of the local boss's stash, by any chance? - I asked. The lady shook her head negatively. It's a pity, but expected.

  She began to outline her plans on the way out.

  - Although the Crimson Lance has just arrived, they are pro, and the security system is already working, though not at full strength yet. And that "not at full strength" provides a window of opportunity. "The Crimson Lance is an elite, but as an elite, they have... shall we say, certain liberties, or rather opportunities for willfulness. There are those who can get something from the outside, or go AWOL on a regular basis. I know one of them, extremely good at penetrating and overcoming security systems, but he's more of a theorist, and, let's say, likes to put his talent into practice for peaceful purposes.

  - And we can use it for our own - I said. The girl nodded.

  - Exactly. You need to catch him and convince him to share the method he uses to go AWOL and return unnoticed. He's good at what he does, but cowardly, and not a big Atlas patriot, so I don't expect much trouble. A mixture of threats and bribery should work, but don't let him escape.

  - We'll do it - Jim nodded.

  On the way back, I decided to check the cell of the psycho with the bloody circle, but it was empty; the prisoner had obviously escaped while we were gone, leaving his tattered prison clothes in the cell.

  ...I want to believe it, but this is Pandora.

  ...We're not out of bandits after all. A couple dozen thugs were waiting for us before we left the Locked palace (Athena helped us open it; I had a suspicion that she had lied about not knowing about the stash and intended to return later and loot it herself, but there was no proof of that).

  Fortunately, I was careful, and the few bullets that came at me didn't hit me as well as the rest of the group, and we retreated out of range to prepare to break the siege.

  Well, retreated... Athena rushed forward with determination, covered by her shield.

  I mentally chuckled, and fired several stacks of Wave disks from behind her back, emptying the AB.

  As it immediately turned out, the woman didn't need much support. Her shield familiarly caught the hail of bullets fired at her and returned them to the senders because of the recipient's unwillingness to accept the package. In the next second Athena disappeared and appeared next to the big man standing at the edge of the crowd; the shield swung, and the bandit's hand flew off, showering the ground with blood, while the woman intercepted the fallen weapon - with her other hand throwing the shield, whose circumference of curved blades sprang out in petals, into the crowd. The circular device that had been turned into a circular saw swept away a few heads and made a run for it back to her mistress, who used her freed hand to hold the disarmed big man, using it instead of a shield, and from behind that cover opened fire with his shotgun.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Assassin Athena. Yeah, she's really killer women," - the ECHO reported again.

  All in all, I was sure she was quite capable of handling herself, but still continued to support her. And when the rest of the group joined us... That was quick.

  Four people our car definitely couldn't carry, but Athena wasn't about to go with us anyway. She shared information, promised to continue to support us, but she was going to act on her own (which once again hinted at her desire to clean out Shanks' stash without us). I was tempted to point out that her attempts at independent action had led to a jail cell, but I managed to restrain myself. Especially since it could happen to anyone.

  Leaving Athena to pick up a car from the rest of the bandits, we headed towards a place called "WBB", an acronym for "The World's Biggest Bullet". It brings back memories of watching old American movies with similar sights in small towns in the backwoods - "Biggest tire in the world, biggest wiener in the world"... Just like kids, man.

  Anyway, we were driving towards this locality, where the AWOL master mentioned by Athena was checking in now and then for some business of his own - the woman didn't know if he had a woman there, or just appreciates the local alcohol - when...

  "Emergency all-planetary message," - the ECHO reported. - "Turning on the broadcast."

  My partners' ECHOs turned on as well, playing the same female voice.

  - This is Helga Steele, representative of the Atlas Corporation and the new commandant of this asshole planet. Atlas has come here, Atlas is bringing order, so there are now three populations: Atlas forces, civilians who follow orders, and the dead. The first group is not being recruited yet, so choose from the next two. Attempting to enter restricted areas, disobeying orders, interfering with Atlas forces, and anything else along those lines automatically puts you in the third category. Oh, and one more thing: for the duration of the special operation to pacify and restore order, we are disabling access to the ECHO network, except for further instructions from the planetary administration. Helga Steele, stand down.

  "Access to the ECHOnet has been lost," added my communication device, no longer a communication device. The ECHO doesn't communicate directly, it's all through the network, so we're cut off.

  - That sucks - Jim said. - It'll be harder without communications.

  "Incoming message, recipient: Angel."

  I accepted it, and a familiar hologram image appeared in augmented reality.

  - Although Commandant Steele has disabled normal access, I still have some of my capabilities, so I can at least help you with communications - she informed me. I sighed; my doubts about the obviously suspicious AI hadn't gone away, but I really needed the connection.

  - It will indeed come in handy - I agreed.

  "Permission is requested to add a new communication protocol," the ECHO reported.

  I don't like this one. Maybe let her put it on Jim's ECHO?.. I thought about it.

  "Permission granted automatically," the ECHO said treacherously. - "Message received, sender: AlBa." "Don't worry, she won't screw you over this time."

  That's comforting. Seriously.

  My partners were clearly not troubled by such doubts, and soon communication was restored... well, as restored - in a narrow circle of users of the new protocol.

  Still, it expanded our possibilities, and allowed us to get up to date with the latest news. And the news, it should be noted, was not brilliant.

  Despite my efforts, Atlas forces managed to take over Tannis. They ran an archaeology quiz show with big prizes, and in the end, our mad scientist didn't even fall for the money - she showed up at the filming location to give the organizers her strong opinion on the wrong answers that were counted as correct.

  It's a madhouse. Or rather, Pandora. It's quieter in a madhouse, there's less shooting.

  In any case, the group of protagonists searching for the Vault, while I was dealing with local problems, did not waste time either. They managed to negotiate with the normal, independent settlers of Pandora - yes, there are civilians who don't want the corporate government to return - and were planning an operation to get Tannis out while countering the occupying forces when the latter had trouble with the communications blackout. However, Moxie assured us that the latter was solvable, and in general - the guys and the girl were doing fine "on the other side", and we had to do our job here. Which, in fact, we continued to do.

  As it was in an anecdote, on a completely different occasion - "You'll laugh, but...". No, our target didn't die before we got there.

  But almost.

  Anyway, just to keep it short. He went AWOL to his woman's house and tried to protect her from the bandits. By the time we arrived, he and his girlfriend were in a small bar building, and together with a couple of other customers he was trying to fight off a couple dozen bandits, who were not expecting a stab in the back. There was an unpleasant moment when two of their buggies showed up, but a lucky shot from the Nutcracker took out one car and our turret took out the other.

  - In general, Atlas can get either an imitation of your corpse in a pile of bandit corpses, or your real corpse - said Jim. - Take your pick.

  - Plus I can offer you a job, and a place to hide for the near future - I added. An impromptu "good mercenary-kind mercenary," since Jim is definitely good at what he does.

  The guy, quite young, glanced at Jim, at me, at Lily, at his girlfriend - comparing him...? He sighed.

  - I'm an honest Atlas soldier, and I will not say anything and will not give in!...

  Jim reached for his knife, and he added hastily:

  - But I seem to have lost my backup ECHO with valuable information during the firefight. And the annoying thing is that it's got a simple basic DNA-based defense and a code word that's obviously not "Gladiolus," because noone would put "Gladiolus" as a code word.

  - What a shame he doesn't want to crack - I remarked. - Looks like his superiors won't even get a whole body.

  Identifiers, access keys, security protocols... a veritable lockpick to the Crimson Citadel's security system. With this wealth, we basically don't have to worry about automatic defenses until the system is updated, and the scheduled update is due in five days. I'd say it's all suspiciously convenient, but if this world is based on a game, it all makes sense. I'm not sure, though, that it can be entirely relied upon, but... not that there's much choice. My motto is "Caution and Discretion", not "Courage and Stupidity", but there's no room for a representative of the Vladoff under the Atlas Protectorate. I won't even be able to escape, most likely. So let's just go for it, all the way.

  And the Crimson Lance treasury. Money is money, after all.