Jonno turns away from the Avatar with some difficulty. "We need real authorization. If we spoof a Keeper or crash our way in, there's a chance they might be able to track the changes or undo what we're doing... or the changes might not even go through."
He bends down to loose a small panel from the wall and peers at the utilitarian ductwork and connectors within as he continues.
"The Avatar's a wash - too many unknowns. We need an on-site Keeper's authorization to get into the Cortex with the right permissions."
Davis thinks about this for a bit while poking around in the open panel with Jonno. *Okay, here's what I got. Luis, Jonno, dummy up orders from some reasonably high Turai officer, ordering us to run a clandestine sweep and scan of the Cortex room and terminals. They're worried about an attack on the Cortex's data, and we're making sure nothing's being sent in, that should give us a reason to be let in and get access to the Cortex. Backdate them an hour or two and put them in the Cortex feed, and I'll get our friend over there-* Davis points to the Keeper in the first Vault, away from the Avatar, *-to let us in. After he logs in, we either copy his access information or just kill him before he logs out, and then we get to work. Sound good to everyone?*
Jonno and Luis conspire for a tense minute, ducked down over the broken access panel. They've spoofed Davis' orders from the Rav-Whetu, who is apparently currently in Napai orbit aboard the Akwhela's Eye fortress. Judging from the amount of forces that officer brought to Aikoro, as well as the fact that it doesn't match up with any existing Imperial command structure, Jonno figures it's a safe bet Davis should be able to run with the shady orders.
*Alright everyone, time to be badasses. Leave the panel open, and form up on me, look like the hardcases we are.*
They march over to the central kiosk in the first Vault, and Davis puts on his "Jaded Angr Delta Badass" voice and posture. "Samal Vadis, here with orders from the Rav-Whetu to inspect the Cortex room, terminals and data-space for intrusion and terrorist activity regarding the attack on Boranai. The orders should be in the Cortex, look them up quickly so you won't be responsible if the terrorists damage the Cortex." Davis looks (and sounds) like if this dumbass civvie Keeper doesn't do what he says right now, he'll just snap and punch him square in the face.
"Watch your tone, boot-licker," the Keeper spits back at Davis. An earpiece projects a floating mist in front of the Keeper's vision; he scrolls through impossible-to-read messages until he blinks away the suspended display.
"Orders from the Rav-Whetu." Davis sees a flash of pure disgust cross the olive-skinned, angular-featured Imperial scholar-agent. "That repulsive Homeworlder is no doubt jockeying for position after his failure at Aikoro. It will avail him naught. Still... you are not he. Your orders ring true. I will gladly give you access, Samal Vadis," the Keeper says with that passive-aggressive edge to his voice. He taps his earpiece once more and speaks to noone in particular. "Neemala, please escort Samal Vadis and his Sept to the Cortex vaults."
Above the central kiosk of the first Repository area, one of the Cyllans gliding through the toroidal aquaria stops in acknowledgement of the Keeper's message. Then:
"What do you mean, 'to whom am I referring to'? The Samal and his sept... look, they're right in front of me."
Davis shakes his head. "The terrorists on Aikoro had Cyllans aiding them, detecting our movements. We shielded our helms so we could sneak up behind them." He puts on a twisted smile. "We killed thirty of them in one building. The murderous bastards never saw it coming, most of them weren't even armed." He motions towards the Cortex door. "Well?"
That gets a grunt of laughter out of the Keeper. "Of course." The suspended holodisplay flickers back up, moving in time with the man's eye movement. "Remove your helms and Neemala will escort you to the Cortex vaults." The Keeper smiles a retail-worker-at-Christmas faux smile.
Davis appears to lose his patience with the officious asshole. "Look, we came here to inspect the Cortex, not play games with you. Our orders are to be escorted by a Keeper and inspect not only the room, but the dataspace inside the Cortex. You will let us in and leave your Cyllan friend outside, and if you continue to make our orders more difficult, the Rav-Whetu may be a stupid Homeworlder, but his word still has power, and I have his ear not to mention friends on Napai. He did not send some spineless spink to follow his orders, and if you continue this dangerous line of questioning, well..." Davis leans up close to the Keeper, "my men and I are still looking for...action after Aikoro. You would not want to come to our attention any more than you already have."
Listening to the growing altercation, Angel shifts his stance slightly, which involves just enough movement of his gun to be noticeable, and tilts his head ever so slightly at the Keeper.
The threat of a nepotistic crackdown coupled with Angel's more immediate silent threat of maybe these people ARE crazy enough to shoot me right here seems to rattle the Keeper a smidge.
"The- the dataspace as well, you say?" He's quick to recover his composure, however, and his hands are steady as he waves his palm over a reader and retrieves a small tab from a locked compartment in the central kiosk.
The Keeper waves one of the desk-bound scholars over to the kiosk. "Scholar Teni, attend this station until I return. Map your cogitator to the kiosk." The Keeper turns, striding down the immense pathway connecting the three Repository vaults. As he leaves the kiosk, three small baseball-sized silver spheres float up from the central station's floor. They fall into a slow orbit around the Keeper.
Luis chuckles internally at the Keeper's consternation. He stays alert, though, trying to not think about the Keeper's offhand "Homeworlder" comment about this bigwig until they have the time to look into it fully.
Davis falls into step behind the Keeper. *Keep your eyes open, we're almost there. Jonno, think we should try to snag this asshole's access, or just shoot him and his drone friends when he logs in?*
*Once he logs in, we'll have authorized and authenticated access to alter the system,* Jonnoperest replies coldly.
Angel eyes the Keeper's spheres. He remembers Hethna Varos' tiny bodyguards back on Whiirr, variable drones vastly superior to the standard surveillance and attack drones seen elsewhere. Varos needed a cerebral implant to control them. Angel checks the escort Keeper's head. It's subtle, clearly a mark of vanity in this younger scholar, but Angel can make out a network of raised cabling under the short-cropped hair and what looks like a seam or port behind the man's right ear.
The group's footfalls are a staccato counterpoint to the steady rumble of the Imperial monks and their machines. The scholars closest to the wide, cathedral-like walkway spare quick glances up. Their eyes dart from the orbiting drones to the weaponry slung on battle armor gleaming in ceremonial patterns.
*Good. I want you and Luis to go in there with him and make sure we don't get locked out, Arketta, Angel, Ngawai, and Swims-the-Black, you target the drones, I'll handle the Keeper and provide backup. We go on my signal.* Davis keeps his eyes open, analyzing every detail and looking for any sign that they're made, until the doors to the Cortex close behind them.
"These two of my men will accompany you into the Cortex to inspect it," Davis says, indicating Jonno and Luis. "This shouldn't take more than ten or fifteen minutes."
The group walks through the third Repository vault and approaches the Cortex doors. A bas-relief akwhela inside a ring is emblazoned in gold across the black slate doors. As the Keeper walks up to the doors, he waves the small widget he took from his kiosk in front of a reader. The doors slowly slide open, drawing the looks of nearby scholars.
A soft glow rises to illuminate the Cortex room as the Keeper enters. A long corridor, a narthex of sorts, culminates with a large multi-person access console. A wide, sleek archway to the left opens onto long branching aisles that stretch at least as far as the Repository vaults the team just traversed. From floor to thirty-foot ceiling, the aisles are stacked with arrays of the storage units Jonnoperest described: about the size of a beer fridge, obsidian black, and wired aisle by aisle to wall sconces holding the coffin-sized Master-tech reactor units. Just one of the reactors powered the entire Mesas Negras complex when the Imperium attacked those many months ago. It was taken to task providing power to the alien keg that spun out Earth's second Gateway, the Gate from Diego Garcia.
Here, they're used like wall outlets.
The Cortex doors grind shut. As their slam reverberates down to nothing, a faint whirring of larger drones becomes apparent. Two not-quite-to-spec attack drones hover slowly above the newcomers at about 20 feet. Their weapon systems are longer, leaner, their shells looking more like oversized footballs than basketballs.
"Let's get on with it then," the Keeper says, striding to the command console.
*Okay, final details,* Davis says as the Keeper gets set up on the console. *Swims-the-Black, I'd be willing to bet that those aren't your regular drones. If there's anything you know about them that we need to know, now would be the time to tell us. We need to clear the room before we can start hacking, so Luis, you stay out here with us and only go in before we clear the room while Jonno locks down our access. Swims-the-Black, Angel, focus on the Cortex drones, everyone else pick your own target. Once we're clear, I want this room locked down and the security system on our side as soon as you can get it. Once the room is secure, we'll figure out what to do next.* Davis looks around and waits for the Keeper to signal Jonnoperest to join him in the Cortex.
Without a way to subvocalize and answer Davis without being completely obvious, Swims takes a chance that the Keeper is occupied authenticating himself to the system and signs as quickly as he can. "Neutronbeamersourarmorisuselessagainstthem" is all the Whiirr gets out before transitioning into a show of rolling his neck and shaking out a stiff shoulder.
*Don't miss those bodyguard drones, bounty hunter,* Arketta tells Ngawai.
*Back at you,* Ngawai whispers.
The Keeper straightens up from the console and motions to Davis. "I have granted your Quad inspection privileges. Except for the slave-beast, of course." He affords a small chuckle at his attempt at racist levity.
Luis' network HUD shows a warm amber coating, like glowing honey, covering his normal access rights. It makes his movements sluggish and his position easy to track. A sticky trail of orange fluid logs their every move. Jonno's glyph is likewise restricted to inspection only. Corresponding to his position in meatspace (for now), the Keeper hovers as a hunched, diamond-headed predator. His access is conspicuously free of the same access restrictions that coat Luis and Jonno.
Everywhere around them, the Cortex branches away in millions of fractal indices. A skimmer-like subroutine floats down, eager to help, and offers to transport them to whatever information node they wish to view.
That's all virtual, though. Luis' hands are still within easy reach of his gotcha - this one specially built to house his UMP-45.
Davis catches Swims' signs. *Okay, radiation weapons are bad. Make sure those fuckers get taken out first thing. Burn your ammo if you have to.*
He returns Jonno's nod. He exposes the trigger on the SCAR-H inside his gotcha shroud, and readies to press it up against the Keeper's head. *On three. One...two...THREE!*
Davis snaps the rifle into position, shoves it into the back of the Keeper's gold-covered skull. He only manages to look surprised before Davis pulls the trigger, sending a 7.62x51mm armor piercing bullet tearing through the front of the shroud and into his skull. Davis then drops onto his back, spinning as he goes, and empties the rest of his clip into the Cortex drone closest to him.
The shrouds are designed to release either manually or upon firing; as the Keeper's last thoughts burst out the front of his face and splatter the Cortex command console, the action of Davis' rifle's bolt frees the guiding rod. The plastic obfuscation sloughs off in panels and parts when Davis hits the floor and slides. There's a ripple of movement around one of the neutron drones, and it darts up and to the side. Davis' SCAR spits angry whispers, scattering spent brass across the immaculate floor until it runs dry with an awful click.
Even as Davis moves, Luis draws his own weapon and goes for one of the smaller drones. He's slightly less cavalier with his ammo, but still gives his target a good spray. As soon as he can, he'll move on to another drone.
Admiral Duck Sauce
