Project Prometheus Ch. 78 - Teaser (Patreon)

“How long do we have before the night watch starts another pass?”

“Thirteen minutes,” Dreanna replied. “I accounted for patrol refresh.”

Serena exhaled through her nose. “And I thought I was thorough.”

“You taught me half my methods,” Dreanna returned. “The good half.”

When they reached the interior service staircase, Dreanna layered an acoustic dampener over her visor display and calibrated it. Their footsteps became inaudible even to their own ears. Every step felt dreamlike, as though gravity itself was muffled. They emerged one level below the core, passing briskly beneath a wall-sized portrait of Confederate naval heroes. Most were dead and rendered irrelevant by the secrets HQ hid behind its immaculate façade.

They reached the vault access node without a single alarm. Inside, three bleary-eyed tech specialists hunched over consoles, performing slow diagnostic sweeps on the quantum memory array. Their uniforms were rumpled, their expressions exhausted. A fresh pot of caffeinated something rested on the auxiliary workstation, steaming and fragrant. Serena gave Dreanna a pointed look as she steeled herself for what would come next.

“Ready?” Dreanna subvocalized.

“No casualties, broken bones, or permanent trauma,” Serena replied quietly.

Dreanna smiled faintly. “Wouldn’t dream of ruining your spotless record.”

“We both know my record isn’t spotless,” Serena scoffed.

“It is tonight.”

Working like stage magicians, they drifted to the fringe of the perimeter, keeping movement peripheral and non-disruptive. Neither woman attempted to cloak themselves through continuous motion, as the stealth suits were strongest when stationary or subtle. When the techs inevitably took sips from their mugs, Dreanna ghosted close, barely a meter away, and used a calibrated applicator to deposit a microscopic dose of laxative into the thermal swirl of the liquid.

Serena did the same with the remaining cups, with the entire maneuver taking less than twelve seconds. They retreated to the shadows and waited, knowing it wouldn’t take very long. At first, there was nothing, causing both women to shift in discomfort, as they wondered if it was working. Then, one of the techs shifted in discomfort, and when he did so again, his expression became panicked.

“Oh—hell—no—no—no—” he babbled as he bolted upright, powered down his console, and nearly ran into the corridor.

The second rose more gracefully, hands pressed to her abdomen, muttering silent apologies to whatever deities governed digestive misery. The third tried to soldier through the growing distress, hoping he had a better constitution that the others. He failed catastrophically, sprinting away in a half-bent posture, practically tripping over his own feet.

“Ten credits says the last one makes it halfway before disaster,” Serena whispered.

“That’s cruel,” Dreanna gasped in mock horror.

“It’s also true,” Serena giggled.

“He’ll make it.”

“He will not.”