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

[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."

[tactician]

Evan snuffed, yanking his own counterfeit identification card out from under his lab jacket. "I'm not responsible for what Vi does. You're on your own on that front."

The secondary checkpoint seemed much more lax than the gate or the front door, but the men there were not much friendlier. They seemed more bored than before, holed up inside a drab, featureless hall with little traffic, but they were also more curious as a result, leaning forward to match Evan and Bentley's faces with their awkward mug shots.

Evan leaned back as one of them bent into his space, shying behind his glasses. "Which facility you two from?"

[aphelionix]

"Facility G27, Human Advancements Research and Development department," he answered. Swallowing, he handed his ID over. The other man took it and Evan's and scanned them. The light of his scanner turned green, and Bentley felt a hint of relief.

"What brings you so far from G27?" the guard asked, pushing the IDs back at them.

[tactician]

"We forgot something in the move from G24," Evan said meekly, acting entirely unlike his real self as he pushed his sliding glasses up his nose with a hint of shyness.

The guard turned up his nose, jabbing Evan's ID card into his chest by its laminated corner, though he addressed both of them when he spoke. "They don't keep you around to be forgetful, you know."

[aphelionix]

"S-sorry," Bentley apologized meekly, tucking away his ID. The guard scoffed, stepping back so they could scan their hands a second time to go in.

"Seriously, you're doctors, aren't you supposed to be smart or something?" the other laughed. Bentley raised his hand and pressed it to the scanner silently. The panel flashed green, and the door opened. "Now get movin'."

With a hasty nod, Bentley did, stepping into the next hall and waiting on Evan.

[tactician]

"You can't tell me that there isn't one decent person in all of Gladsheim," Evan muttered, once they were safely through the door and out of earshot.

[aphelionix]

"If there was someone, I didn't know them," he sighed, relaxing considerably once the door shut behind them.

[tactician]

"Maybe they squirrel them all away into nooks and crannies to do more prosthetic research for them," Evan supplied easily, glancing up only to take brief note of where the surveillance cameras were before lowering his gaze back down to his feet - much more in character.

The short hallway they had entered now had five doors lining the walls - two on each side and one at the far end. Each had a flat plastic label naming the rooms Storage Room A to E, and each door had a small, gridded window that showed the same monotonous shelving regardless of alphabetical nominator. The only thing that seemed to change were the sizes of visible stacked boxes, but even those seemed standardized to some degree - all printed with a Gladsheim label on the bottom right where the owner had put down some vague content details.

"I don't suppose you know which of these they locked your stuff in."

[aphelionix]

Bentley frowned, inspecting the first couple windows to their left.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But if we take to long I'm sure those guards will get suspicious. It's not A, though - the boxes are too small in there. We're looking for a long, wide cases. Sort of like a gun case."

He went to room C, which looked promising. The boxes were about the right size.

"I'm going to look in here. They'll be stamped with a big 'P-08'," Bentley added. "That should help."

[tactician]

Evan was by the D-door, hand already on the knob.

"Divide and conquer?" he suggested, smiling. "Come get me if you need anything."

[aphelionix]

"Likewise," he said, and ducked into the room.

It was... much larger inside than it looked from the door's window. A quick glance at the security cameras ensured that there were minimal blind spots. But he knew these facilities - knew the guards that were to watch the cameras often aloofly did so. Half the time they were not paying attention.

Hopefully it was still like that.

Bentley walked slowly down the row. He couldn't look suspicious, after all. And naturally, none of them in this row with the P-08's they needed. He tried the next row, and again, nothing. The last row also proved not to have what they needed. Conscious of the surveillance, Bentley made it look as though he had forgotten just what room it was, scratching his head and stepping back out.

"Not C," he informed Evan through the D door. "Trying E."

[tactician]

"All right," Evan called back, only a third of the way through Room D. He was disadvantaged in that he didn't know exactly what he was looking for and, unfamiliar with the Gladsheim internal coding system, he couldn't just skim over every label before making a decision. Peeking into every box would just look suspicious to any possible observer, so that was out of the question as well.

The door opened with a characteristic squeak of metal gears as the the handle was pushed and then released.

"Did you find i-" Evan moved toward the aisle lining the side of the room and found that the person who had entered was not Bentley at all (but oddly similar in some ways). "Oh," he said, blinking at the man before lowering his gaze sheepishly tot he floor. "I-I'm so sorry. I thought you were someone else."