P90: Logs

Saturday watches from the edges of the riot, making a great show of moving furniture and snatching bystanders away from the rolling ball of chaos, until South slips by and murmurs something in her ear.

Then she begins to move, touching a shoulder here, giving a significant look there.  Time to go.  One by one, everyone can slowly depart.  Secrecy is essential; even Jorgmund can add up riot and murder and break-in and get “kill them before they kill you.”  

They can all meet Saturday at the appointed place.  It’s a less-used service entrance to the upper deck, which some may not have even known existed.  She stands with her hands in her pockets, wound tight as a sprinter before the starting pistol.

“Okay,” she says quietly, once they’re all there.  In an earpiece cobbled together by Alia, a New Hire now gone, she says, “Brainy, you ready?  Good.” She looks at the others. “Right.  So.  You all know the plan, an’ the stakes.  Go in, grab as much as you can, get out.  No unnecessary risks, no heroics.  Brainy’s our eye in the sky; once the door opens, we scatter.  He’ll be the only one with the full picture.”

“We’ve got a private channel, but keep it quiet.  No chatter.  If you cut comms, it means you’re burned an’ the op is over.  We will try to get you out.  It might not be possible.  If Jorg realizes what we did, we’re all fucked.  If that’s too much heat, go back.  I won’t judge anyone for it.”

And she means it, too.  Risking their lives in battle is one thing; risking torture and god knows what else at the hands of an enemy like Jorgmund is quite another.  They’ve all heard a variation on this speech from her before, of course, when she approached them with the final plan.  But she seems to need to make sure she says it again, one last time.

“Okay.  Right.”  Saturday turns to the door.  Her hands are too disciplined to shake as she draws out the keycard, but she can taste her heartbeat on the back of her tongue.  It’s always like this before a run, or a fight, in the moment when the ground starts to shift and anything becomes possible - provided you don’t fall.

It makes her feel a little guilty, how much she loves it.

The alarm panel blinks a challenge, and South steps forward.  Planker’s voice emerges from her mouth, speaking the code-phrase stolen from his mind by Stacia and Kerrigan.  The lock processes, taking almost too long.

But the door opens, revealing a branching hallway lined with doors.  Time for everyone to get into their groups, and set off…