the infiltration operation

[tactician]

The research outpost on one of Gladsheim's more distant moons was less a functioning facility than it was a glorified storage closet for all the projects the militaristic government abandoned in favor of stealing from other planets' research sectors. Now that they had acquired the Seventh, which meant that they were privy to a great deal of information from the Sixth, a large portion of Gladsheim's more legitimate research facilities had been shut down, according to what reconnaissance agents the Circle still had out on the field, many of its previous scientists placed under obligatory planetary residence as to avoid leaking anything.

But the research outpost on Gladsheim's distant moon contained one thing that was still highly relevant to modern day prosthetic sciences, even if the government itself didn't realize as much - a field of study regarding the signalling of brainwaves to operate machinery not only attached to the body, but perhaps even in an entirely separate form itself. If brought to fruition, it could limit the need for human casualties and greatly reduce the Circle's disadvantage of lesser numbers. It was something one of its previous researches had been looking into on the down-low.

Speaking of which.

"You're looking a little pale," Evan said, checking himself in the car's side mirror as he combed a hand through his newly dyed hair before donning a pair of red-rimmed, plastic-lens glasses. His eyes slid sideways in his reflection. "You remember where it is, doc?"

Comments

[aphelionix]

"Couldn't if I wanted to," he laughed nervously, rubbing the tips of his gloved fingers together. Bentley had to hide his arm somehow. The thing was unlicensed, and would set off suspicion if it was found.

That didn't stop them from being ready for just that, though. He still modified it to look like the latest model of prosthetics from Gladsheim, and the Circle managed to set him up with a temporary license. It only worked on a shallow level, though, but beyond the initial entry it shouldn't pose a problem.

Which was why Bentley was given basic blending training first, and given some anti-anxiety concoction ala Calibri. (It tasted disgusting, and it only worked to a degree.) If he aroused suspicion and they investigated further, the mission would be compromised.

And Bentley feared what would be waiting for him at the hands of Gladsheim.

"We'll be fine, though." He swallowed, and smiled at Evan in the reflection from the back seat. He was a little different looking himself today - a brunette with all around stubble, rather than his usual goatee. The enthusiastic woman who did their disguises even gave his hair a light frizzing. He looked like a bum off the street. But, it did its job. Bentley hardly looked like himself.

[tactician]

He did, thankfully, look the very accurate part of a frazzled scientist, though, who had even perhaps absent-mindedly lost something and understandably come to the facility to retrieve it.

Evan looped an arm over the back of his chair and smiled into the backseat of the vehicle. A few months ago, he wouldn't have believed that Bentley would opt in for any mission that brought them anywhere close to Gladsheim's gravitational field, yet here they were.

"You've come a long way, doc."

[aphelionix]

His glance turned back outside the window. They were approaching the facility quickly. The fence lining it - surely electrified - was only meters away.

"Have I?"

[tactician]

Evan chuckled and despite his disguise and the marked difference his lack of signature hairstyle gave him, he looked the same when he laughed. According to Bentley's records, this facility wasn't the one he had been stationed in when under the forcible employ of the Gladsheim military, but they were all probably similar enough in their carbon copy monotony that the sight of it was just as unpleasant.

"You couldn't even fly without getting airsick when we first started heading out together, remember?" Evan pointed out, reassuring where he could be.

[aphelionix]

"That... ship was small," Bentley huffed. "Of course I'd feel a little out of sorts."

He quieted shortly after that, though, as they approached the security gate. The guard on duty tapped the window, and their escort and driver rolled it down.

"IDs," he said sternly. Bentley passed his forward.

[tactician]

Evan fumbled with his as if he were intimidated by the show of authority, yanking his fake ID out of his lab coat pocket and handing it over with Bentley's. The man barely took a look at it, though he did cast a measuring eye over both their faces, as if he were more concerned about how they held up under personal scrutiny than he did in the validity of their IDs - typical Gladsheim.

No doubt Bentley was no stranger to such inspection, but Evan could really only act shy and deferring, lowering his eyes when the guard turned his eyes on him, gaze burning into the top of his head. When, at long last, the man finally gave the clear for the car to pass, Evan had to stifle his small breath of relief.

"They always run you down like that?" he asked Bentley.

[aphelionix]

"That was mild," he muttered, stuffing his ID back into his jacket. Evan was in no way unprepared for this mission, but it did feel odd to know more than him about the situation. Bentley had done well up until now, though, ignoring the fact that a lot of this mission hinged on him.

[tactician]

Evan tilted his head against the headrest, glancing at Bentley using the side-view mirror. "Should I ask what 'tough' is?"

[aphelionix]

"Anywhere from a rough pat down and some shoving to rejecting you completely because you looked at them funny. Which then leads to a world of hassle about why you didn't show up for work, along with more shoving and roughing up." Bentley shrugged, unbuckling his seatbelt as they pulled into the parking lot of the facility.

[tactician]

"Fun," Evan responded dryly, glancing at the research facility out of the safety of their car window before following suit in leaving the car.

It was a nameless, featureless place - nothing more than a drab, gray, rectangular building on a slab of flat asphalt. The only thing distinguishing it were the words 'Facility 25A3Z' embossed on one side of the door. There weren't even windows on the walls, as if the architects had only managed the barest constructs of a 'building' before being told to stop.

"Enchanting work environment," Evan commented dryly.

Their driver stopped him by the arm before he left the car completely. "This is as far as I take you. They don't allow vehicles to park here in case someone tries to steal something. You two can manage from here on?"

Evan glanced at Bentley, then back at the building, and nodded. "We'll be fine."

[aphelionix]

Bentley nodded in turn. "Yeah."

Nervousness was seeping in, even with the medication he had been given. He felt more level-headed than usual, though, and less like his heart was going to break right out of ribs. They really couldn't risk messing up this mission.

Bentley looked the building up and down. It did bring back some unwanted memories, but he took a breath and lead the way.

"Have your ID ready," he said as they approached the door.

[tactician]

Though his face didn't budge, Evan let out a quiet breath - common enough that it was clearly a sound of amusement. "It's a little strange with you in the lead, but it's not bad."

He took out his ID timidly for the guards at the door who greeted them with just as little enthusiasm as the one at the gate. They snuffed at their IDS, shoving them back into their chests as Evan fumbled to catch it, barely giving the two enough time to recover before they were unceremoniously shoved toward the hand-print reading reading machine mounted on glass columns in the center of the hall.

If this was how they treated their own, Evan wondered how it was they treated the enemy - but only a moment was spared for the thought. Placidly, he and Bentley put their palms on the slab as the machine read their fitted biologically imprinted gloves (who knows where the Circle had gotten two legitimate prints). When the machine beeped them through, they were once again shoved past the checkpoint and inside.

"Friendly bunch," Evan commented quietly, catching himself mid-trip with a hand on Bentley's shoulder.

[aphelionix]

"They're having a good day, if you ask me," Bentley said quietly, straightening his jacket out and helping Evan straighten himself. "They act like that so the workers here know who's in charge."

On the plus side, it made their skittish behavior look normal.

They were directed through some large doors, that a wave of Bentley's ID opened. He looked discomforted by that - likely bringing back another wave of memories - but continued on into the large hall. There were a lot less Gladsheim soldiers beyond this point. There were about two to each corner where other hallways branched off, and they mostly ignored the passing workers, talking to each other instead.

"Looks like the layout really is the same," Bentley muttered to himself, mostly, looking at the signs. They were in hall 1A. "There's going to be another checkpoint to get into the storage wing, where the files are."

[tactician]

Bentley was acting with a composed sense of calm that was...rather uncharacteristic, matter of fact. It would have been more reassuring if he were his normally nervous self, but the stiffness in his frame and the curtness of his words suggested that things were not quite as serene as his external demeanor would have suggested. That was understandable, of course, given the situation, but it was still strange and uncommon to see.

They were a little too far in to have doubts and it might be even insulting to question Bentley's ability to carry through, so instead, Evan said, "I'm glad you know your way around here. Everything looks the same to me."

[aphelionix]

The smile he gave was tight.

"Don't give me too much credit yet."

[tactician]

Evan glanced at him. "Why is that?"

[aphelionix]

"Well, it's only hall 1A," he laughed dryly. "Who knows what the storage wing could be like."

[tactician]

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Evan replied, patting Bentley lightly on the back. The doctor's spine was ramrod straight - not an ounce of tension had eased from him since entering the facility. In fact, if nothing else, Bentley's unease seemed to grow the deeper they were in Gladsheim territory, boxed in by walls and guards alike. "The research material can't just up and move on its own; it's only a matter of time."

[aphelionix]

"We don't exactly have the best defense planned if things go wrong," Bentley said, quieting as they passed the guards, waiting to speak up again. They went through another set of doors, putting them in 2A. "Alerting the driver and busting out the nearest window will only work to a point."

[tactician]

"Hmm," Evan said neutrally, but he and Bentley knew each other well enough that it was an obviously thoughtful sound, even if his stride didn't break as they turned into hall 1E, climbing the steps to the second floor.

"There would be an extraction effort planned, but we're short of hands now, and I'm probably the most expendable man we have on deck on the First," Evan said, not quite reassuringly, though he smiled. "So I'd do my best to get you out of here. There's no need to worry, doc."

[aphelionix]

He smiled pathetically.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Bentley said, glancing up at the signs hanging from the ceiling at each hall. "Almost there."

[tactician]

"Well, we haven't run into much trouble yet," Evan pointed out, content to let Bentley lead. "This is hardly a high priority mission and barely anyone knows about it - there's no way Gladsheim would have caught wind of it, even with the Seventh at their disposal."

[aphelionix]

"I didn't mean that part," he clarified. "But for the record, I... Well, I trust you."

Bentley stopped in middle of the hall. If something were to go wrong, this is where it would. He felt a little more shaky than before, but when he looked at his hand, found that it was only in his head.

"Just around the corner here," he said. "Good to go?"

[tactician]

"I should be asking that of you, shouldn't I?" Evan asked, occasionally glancing around them, although not often enough to really be suspicious. If he was nervous, he wasn't nearly as obvious about it as Bentley was, but then again, he wasn't the one with seemingly terrible memories of Gladsheim employment.

He did turn around in time to see Bentley look down at his hand, slightly bewildered. Though he didn't know what it was the doctor was looking for, he pat the back of Bentley's wrist lightly anyway, if only to snap him back into the present and away from any unnecessary doubts.

"I trust you too," he reassured. "You're not by yourself here."

[aphelionix]

Bentley looked back up at Evan, and though he didn't quite ease, the smile itself that he returned was a little more lax. He dropped his arm back to his side.

"Thanks," he said, getting his ID ready again. "Besides, if you're anything like a good friend, you won't let anything happen to you. Viana would blame me and then we'd both be dead."