"This shit's easy," Dagger's voice echoed in Nicole's head as she hid, crunched up sitting deep inside the shelving, a box of MREs perched in front of her serving as her only shield as rifle flashlights swept blindingly across the storeroom aisles.
"Then how did you get caught?..." She had replied.
Jessica never actually gave her a straight answer, and as Nicole heard base security bark callouts to each other of "CLEAR!", she really wished she had, the events of the past few hours flashing before her eyes.
"I don't get paid enough for this shit." Nicole mumbled to herself with a grumble and a sigh.
"Correction," the Major retorted with a light chuckle. "You're not getting paid at all. Now get a move on, ol' Bluejay's hungry."
As she turned to leave the meeting room, she ducked her head back in, trying to shake herself awake. Black bags saddled her eyes, and she raised an eyebrow as she made eye contact with Bluejay.
"Wait a second," Nicole raised an inquisitive finger. "How the fuck am I supposed to get past my guard? Hell, where is he? He's pretty good at blending into the background, but… I don't see him anywhere."
"Well," the AWACS shrugged. "Do you really think I was going to let you take a plus-one to a meeting where we're planning something mildly illegal?"
"You…" The pilot sighed, possibly relieved. "You got him off my ass?"
"Sure did, Spook." The AWACS smirked and pointed to a frowning Burn. "Just look at Scott. He'd love to prove me wrong, but I think you've killed enough Feds for me to trust you."
Killed enough, huh? She took an uneasy breath. She didn't want to think of herself as a killer— but, she supposed, this is war. She resolved not to think about it too much, pushing the idea to the back of her head.
"So, then," Nicole put her hands down on the ping-pong table. "Let's be quick. What's the plan?"
Dagger passed her a flattened, empty duffel bag. "Alright, let's run this through…"
"Simmons and Jacobs really don't give a shit, so you're going to ideally try to go in around the time they switch shifts." Nicole glanced at the crude map of the storeroom Jessica had drawn on a napkin, marked up with points of interest. "Unfortunately, tonight we got off to a late start. You're going to be going in when Jacobs hands off to Wilhelm, and I'm pretty sure Wilhelm is the most meticulous bastard I've ever met."
"ID?" Sergeant Jacobs' eyes were practically glazed over, the light of his workstation monitor bathing the apathetic airman's face in light.
Instinctively, she rummaged through her flight suit's pockets, presenting a plastic card that was chipped in both senses of the word. The Sergeant scanned it to the sound of a loud buzzer, repeating the process about four times before handing it back. "Your ID's no good."
Oh yeah, she thought, that's a Fed ID.
She took a glance at the card, if only for old times' sake, the photo a foreshadowing of the fate the pilot had in store for her. She had made it her mission to smile as much as she could get away with for the ID photo, a small, first act of well-intentioned rebellion. She wished she had more reasons to smile like that.
"Ma'am, you just gonna stand there? My shift ends in fifteen. You got one that works?"
"Uhhh…" She panicked. What do I do if even the guy who doesn't give a shit won't let me in? He hadn't seemed to notice the Federation symbology on the ID, and if he had he didn't care. Time for plan B.
"I… uhhh… have orders from Major Ha—" Wait, fuck, what did Bluejay say? 'Mention my name and I flay you alive?' Nicole was not in the mood to be flayed at all, much less while she was alive; she decided it was time to put some good ol' Feddie-slideshow-presentation-buzzwords into action. Agile thinking, was it? "Major Harvey. Major Harvey gave me orders to… procure some… supplies."
"Major Harvey?" That was the first time the Sergeant actually looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "I don't know any Major Harvey."
Shitshitshitshitshit— wait, she thought. "Well of course you wouldn't. He just got in yesterday on one of the C/T-17 flights. Now are you gonna let me in?"
"Sure, just, what unit should I put down for the records?" The Sergeant's eyes narrowed on her face. "Wait a second…"
Nicole cut him off. "CIF Intelligence," a smirk on her face. Buy it, please, buy it…
"Well shit, I knew there was a reason I recognized you. You're the Spook, right? Little unorthodox uniform, but I think I know better than to fuck around with spooks. There ya go, you're in. No records, and I'll get the sensors off for ya." He gave her an uneasy smile and a thumbs up. "Go on in."
The door unlocked with a buzz, and she stepped through with a sigh.
She pulled out the grocery list and started wandering the shelves, being sure not to look too nefarious in case Jacobs decided to check in. When she had found the right boxes, she unslung the duffel.
"There's an easy way to do this and a sneaky way to do this," Dagger had told her. "Do it the easy way and these days, you'll get caught quick, just like one of the guys from Cygnus did. You want a box cutter and packing tape. Cover up your tracks, just like any other Spook."
Nicole took Jessica's advice, opening up the boxes of rations, finding the meal packs with the desired snacks, and raiding just what they needed. Soon, the duffel was starting to fill, and when she had decided her haul was sufficient, she started her cover-up operation, slicing strips of packing tape to recreate the original seal.
As she slid the boxes back into order, she checked the wall clock. "Shifts change at fifteen minutes past the hour."
0416. Oh no. As one final box returned to its place, her breathing started to quicken, and her grip on the duffel slipped right into one of those napkin-drawn imaginary lines. "Don't trip the motion sensors," Dagger had said. Ah well, she thought. At least I tried.
Her life had flashed before her eyes a lot recently, and by now she could quote her greatest regrets like a depressingly catchy tune. Yet there was always something startling about it, and as klaxons wailed and she rushed for the one place she could think to hide, the gap behind the box she had just placed back on the shelf, she really, really wished she hadn't made quite a few of her life's choices.
It hadn't taken long for the base's security detachment to flood the storeroom. They swept with rifles raised, aisle by aisle, and the only way out was the way she came in. I'll just hide here until they go away, she thought, clutching the snack bag close to her chest. "We've got an intruder in here— I had to turn on the sensors myself." a furious woman barked at the MPs. "Go fucking find 'em!"
Hang on, she thought, watching as one of the guards ducked down, and she could make out a partially-masked face. I know that guard.
I have an idea, her inner monologue offered. No, no, that's a horrible idea, she replied. Oh, c'mon, she bantered back to herself. You got a better one?
She mentally sighed. Admittedly, no.
It was an incredibly awkward position, but she worked out the angle necessary, and punched herself in the face. Wait, I have no way of knowing if that worked.
A few more punches later—and far more prayers that her none-on-one brawl would not be heard— and she felt sufficiently confident that she looked like she had been beaten up. When the gaze of the familiar guard— her Guard— had returned her way, she crawled out of the shelving. "H-help," she gasped.
"Lieutenant Khoury!" The Guard pointed his gun away from her, lowering the rifle. "I've got a live one here!" He barked to the others. "Are you okay? You look hurt— took a nasty hit to the face there."
"The— the intruder," she gasped, hamming up the acting skills she hadn't used since high school. "I was just getting supplies and— and— I got attacked…"
"Alright," the Guard said, holding out a hand to help pick her up. "Ma'am, let me get you out of here. We'll find the assailant, I guarantee you." That ever-professional tone, that stick up his ass— well, it was quite simply now music to her ears.
He heaved her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry, the duffel bag still slung across her back. As the Guard carried her out the door towards the infirmary, the other MPs still patrolling for a non-existent intruder, she sighed in relief.
I really don't get paid enough for this shit.