I do sort of jump around with Skyfall in this chapter. I know I keep posting and unposting this fic but it's so dear to me and I want it to be so good. I'm fickle as hell!
I guess I should say that this chapter too has some dialogue from the movie as I go through scenes, of course it's not mine and I claim no ownership to it. It's also worth noting, I know very little about technology let alone hacking. I've done what I can from some very quick research (and...watching Mr. Robot? Oof.) but that's about all the knowledge I have. To be fair...it's probably no better than what's in the movies? That's not really an excuse but I'm going with it.
Chapter 2
The Thick of It
The hour was far from growing late. Soon the clock would reset and, in the passing of a second, late would become early. A new day would shutter in faster than the blinking of an eye. A white late winter moon, paler than snow, hung above London hidden by a heavy bank of brewing storm clouds. Rain began to fall from the sky. Icy drops sank through the stone and concrete down into the "new-old" halls of MI6 igniting the scent of dust. Like petrichor, Q thought, in between reading lines of code. As the smell grew stronger, she felt her concentration and vitality begin to wane. Her mind, lost as it was to a sea of dead end trails, would soon become useless. I'm older now. She blinked, water pooling at the corner of her eyes to cool the sting of dryness. The number of all nighters I'm able to endure is beginning to dwindle. Strange how quickly age begins to affect the mind. She nudged her glasses down the brim of her nose and rubbed at her tired eyes. They were beginning to ache from the strain and Q realized with delayed relief that she had finally procured a job that was legally recognized by a governing entity. Meaning, she could finally see a reputable optometrist. She logged another mental note to have her assistant set her an appointment as early as possible.
Still nothing. She sighed, pushing her glasses back up. How is that possible?
She sat hunched before her personal laptop, set upon a standing table. While she usually preferred to stand, she had been working since the morning and her feet were in need of a rest, so she had Malcolm procure for her a tall stool after teatime and had been practically glued to it ever since. She straightened, the meager muscles in her shoulders none too happy; she groaned thickly as she stretched her arms out, taking in the scent of rain and night. Her joints buckled loudly as her fingers extended towards the white brick above.
Behind her a large screen of the highest caliber had been installed, bearing a running counter of the security system she had built up with the help of her new staffers. And laid out before her table were a dozen desks set in two neat columns. They were similar to hers, constructed of the same chilly metal but much shorter. Each one contained a laptop, charging station and separate smaller monitor that reflected the images of that of the large one behind her. Chairs of different makes and models sat before each one.
Strange... She thought, scanning the room. Everyone's gone.
The room was much darker than she remembered. Only the long lights above her head were still lit. The cool, white LED flickered quietly. Only the gentle hum of the machines could be heard. Q's eyes found her watch.
Ah, well...2:36am. That would explain it.
Time was a strange thing. She could have sworn it was midnight just two minutes ago. The days leading up to her hiring had moved by at a near glacial pace. Now that she was settled and there was real work to be done, the hours were sailing by at breakneck speeds. Days were molding into one another. Her search for a home, stymied as it was, seemed impossible now that they had been able to pull apart the virus. She was a little nettled that her staff hadn't stayed along with her. But her irritation was fleeting. She certainly preferred to work alone. With no one to report to, no one demanding explanations or floating ridiculous theories, she could work quicker. Not that her luck had at all improved since the afternoon. Whoever this hacker was, and Q was beginning to think they were not working alone, they knew how to hide.
The attack had been swift, but easy enough to explain. A simple intrusion. Had she been listened to all those months passed, perhaps that part of their plan wouldn't have been so simple to enact. Whoever it was had created a nearly untraceable backdoor, taking full command of the system long before anyone was aware of it. After that, their work had been simple. Disable safety protocols, flood the building with gas and light the match. The trails left behind however, Q soon discovered they numbered in the thousands. Some were easily dismissible as red herrings. Old tricks she recognized from her days as a hacker for hire. Others were more difficult to discern and needed to be followed manually. Crumb by crumb.
Shit. She thought, leaning back. Another fake.
She glanced again at the dossier that had been handed out that morning. The file was stacked to bursting. The report detailed the long and storied history of M's legacy with the organization in as succinct a manner as possible. Every encounter, every underling and enemy had all been allowed their own page in hopes of moving the process along. By the time she had finished going through it, she realized she must now know more about M than anyone else in the agency. Except maybe Tanner. Q had first devoured the pages upon pages of text, only to end up with 25 pages tagged for interest. She placed the 23rd back into the folder. With only two more possibilities and zero leads, she was beginning to feel the itch of hopelessness clawing at the back of her mind.
Such a public display, yet so few deaths. The attackers could have easily brought down the entire building. Or more. So this is personal. That...seems like the most logical explanation. But no one seems to know who it could be, not even M. So if it's not personal...perhaps made to look that way? And if that's the case…
She reached for her mug, taking shallow sips. The tea inside was frigid now and over-steeped, but she could hardly taste it. Her mind was spinning again, picking up speed. The room around her fell away again. The sound of rain far above her grew deafening. The light of her computer screen seemed somehow brighter, enveloping her, luring her in. Her posture loosened again before constricting as she hunched back over, pushing her face closer as a new thread of thought wove together.
There was nothing telling in the code she had uncovered, no marker or sign. Unusual for the work of a hacker. Any one of them worth their salt crafted a name for themselves. Or, if not a name, a calling card. It was worrisome. It likely meant that the explosion wasn't the intended statement. It was just the beginning. An introduction...or an omen of something far more sinister to come.
Whoever did this certainly knows their way around the MI-6 systems, as outdated as they are...to cover their tracks so thoroughly, that shows real skill. Familiar skill.
Her eyes strayed towards the pile of papers that made up the dossier. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, empty of all but chilled tea. She knew what she needed to do. With a heavy sigh, plucked at her keyboard. Her fingers moved slowly this time, her hesitation growing with each pointed tap. After accessing what was left of the MI6 archive, she started with a simple search.
O.B.E.R.O.N
The machine whirred to life. Q watched restlessly as her key search rummaged through files at light speed. But after several minutes of rifling, the search yielded nothing. Q breathed through her nose, lips tightening into a thin line. She had expected this. In fact, it was in her best interest that even after the destruction of data, there were no listings of OBERON.
It certainly doesn't help me now. She thought, swallowing. I'll have to search one by one.
She decided to begin at the end and work her way backwards. A cowardly move perhaps, but the instinct was too strong to deny. After setting the proper parameters, she entered the first name.
Null. A single result appeared. The page was small, lacking in the most pertinent information, but as her eyes read down she realized why.
Known name. Xiulan Li. *status: confirmed dead*
Known Aliases. Null. Anna Cheung. Bao Ling.
Age: 28 yrs at time of death.
Time of death. Q read again, the pit in her stomach expanding. With no time to dwell, she moved to the next name.
Osiris.
Known name: Fadia Hamdi. *status: unconfirmed*
Known Aliases. Osiris. Reina Malek. Laura Lang.
Age: 29
Location: unknown.
Delving deep into her memory, Q typed in several IP addresses. The third one came up as still active. She ran it's activity against the date of the attack. It had been in use, accessing a back door to a bank in Berlin.
Doing well for yourself, Fadi. Q thought, with an empty laugh before moving on to the next name.
Rainmaker. A single result appeared. The page was small, lacking in the most pertinent information, but as her eyes read down she realized why.
Known name. Gabriel Okandi. *status: confirmed*
Known Aliases. Rainmaker. Devon Samuels. Lewis Stone.
Age: 29
Last Known Location: Cape Town, South Africa
He's...home? Q thought, puzzled. No, it must be a misdirect. She shook it off and repeated the same process of IP addresses. None were active at the time of the attack.
Envy.
Known name. *status: unconfirmed*
Known Aliases. Envy.
Last Known Location: New York, United States of America.
Still hiding, Isaac? Q thought, a small smile ghosting over her pursed lips. Out of all her old colleagues, Isaac seemed the most likely suspect. Think on your sins . In all the years she'd known him, he had been obsessed with the concept of the seven deadly sins, even taken one of them as his name. His cyphers always hinged on one of them as a key.
Isaac has little interest in politics. What reason would he have to enact such a brazen attack? Why then, would any of them?
Her shoulders sagged as the realization of what she had done sunk in. The truth was, none of her former compatriots were likely to accept a job as showy as this. No matter how much money was offered. Which meant her impromptu search was nothing more than a late night lapse in judgement. Even so, her fingers hovered over the keypad, itching to fall into place. There was one other name she could search. One last member of OBERON aside from herself.
Don't do it. She told herself, even as she leaned closer to the screen.
It had taken close to a year, but she had managed to dig a grave to perfectly fit her past. The grave was, of course, metaphorical in practice, yet still very real in the deep recesses of her mind. OBERON was buried there, a festering corpse of bad decisions. And Maggie Dawson with it.
This job was her only shot at a new start, so new she still hadn't decided on the alias that would be attributed to her personnel file and all her new documentation. Opening the door to OBERON would only raise the dead. She knew even an attempt at a search for that final name would likely trigger a warning and she would run the risk of dropping herself right back in the mire. He would be notified. He would know that she was still out there. To dredge it all up again, so soon after she had left it all behind would be nothing more than an exercise in madness.
A series of soft, swift raps against the metal desk roused her from her dilemma and caught her entirely off guard. With a sharp intake of breath, she jolted backwards nearly losing her seat. She stumbled off of it, feet hitting the ground with a slap, her hands gripped the edge of the table. Her eyes fluttered open and shut, trying to adjust to the lack of light that surrounded her. As they worked it out, she could make out a slender shadow standing opposite her.
"Sorry," It said with a gentle composure. "I was trying to avoid that."
The shadow darkened and then became more sharp as it stepped into the light. It was a woman, finely dressed in a rose red silk blouse, navy skirt and sensibly chic heels. On her face, she wore what Q estimated to be an apologetic smile.
"Oh," Q said, masking her surprise. "N-not a problem, I'm afraid I lose track of my surroundings when I'm...searching." Despite the risk, her hand shot out and she pulled the laptop shut with a resounding snap. A moment of silence, shaken only by the sound of falling rain far above, passed between them. It was awkward yes, but if Q had become used to anything in her line of work, it was the occasional awkward interaction.
"Have you found anything?" The woman asked, a spark of hope rearing in her amber eyes as she glanced down at the laptop curiously.
"No," Q said bluntly, pushing away the flush of shame that threatened to overtake her face. "Whoever did this, they know how to hide." Even from me. She thought, pressing her lips together in a tight line.
Undeterred, the woman's smile deepened into something warmer. "We've yet to be introduced."
She crossed around the table and held out her hand. "Eve Moneypenny."
Q knew who she was, of course. She had spent the first few nights of her employment scouring the other personnel files to best acquaint herself, not only with her own staff, but with other departments as well. When she was a child, her grandfather had often bragged that she possessed an eidetic memory. But seeing as she had never once in her adult life found definitive, scientific proof that such a feat truly existed, she wasn't inclined to believe it herself. Still, she found cataloging faces and names and the words she read in books came more easily to her than it did to most. It was a tradeoff, decided at birth by the string of genes that had been assigned to her by whatever high power existed. She could memorize and theorize and sort as easily as she could breathe. It was fun, too. Taking stacks of data and stripping them down to their bare bits. Conversely, taking small disparate pieces and molding them together was equally satisfying. She was born to do this sort of work. Pity, it had taken her as long as it had to realize it.
"Q." She said, gingerly taking Eve's hand for a fraction of a second before withdrawing it. Eve's skin was cold and damp, reflecting the weather raging above.
"What can I help you with?" Q asked hurriedly, worried that she would lose her focus for good. At least, as far as the night's work was concerned. She reached for her mug, her fingers desperate to move again.
"You've been summoned." Eve said, "The stolen data packet has been leaked. At least partially."
"Partially?" Q repeated, the hole in her stomach expanding. She tried to fill it with another large gulp of cold tea. "How can we be sure?"
"It was sent to M directly." Eve explained. "When she clicked on the link-"
Q's grip slackened and the mug slipped free, crashing loudly to the floor and echoing around the empty room.
"She clicked on it?!" Q repeated, aghast. "I-oh dear,"
She dropped to her knees, inspecting the damage to her mug. Eve knelt down near the other end of the table, retrieving a piece of the handle.
"Oh no, your mug." She said, shaking her head.
"It's not mine, I don't think." Q said. "My assistant brought it-I..did she really click on it?"
The two women rose in unison, depositing the pieces onto the table.
Eve shot another apologetic look to Q. "I'm afraid so. Technology isn't her strong suit."
"To put it nicely." Q said, running a hand through her hair as her mind ran through the new bevvy of problems to add to her ever growing list.
"Shall we go?" Eve asked.
After gathering her things, Q followed Eve to a waiting car which sped quickly into the rainy night once they were loaded in.
"Tanner's there," Eve explained. "With Mallory, but I suspect he'll be gone by the time we arrive. After you've had a chance to inspect M's computer we'll take you on to the airport."
Q's heart stopped. Then sank.
"Airport?" She said thickly as her nerves began to spike.
Eve turned to face her, a curious look on her face. "Yes, 007 is en route to Macau, you'll need to meet him for the brief and pass along any additional tech-"
"He has what he needs." Q said shortly, biting down on her lip. It was a convenient truth. After studying the files of all the Double-Ohs and picking through every last one of their mission reports she felt confident that she knew the ins and outs of their strategies and movements well enough to supply them with what they would need to get the job done. Bond was infamously more brutish than some of his colleagues, with a collection of damage invoices unlike any other, and Q hoped that limiting his access to explosives would help assuage that particular part of the MI-6 budget. It also meant that, as far as she was concerned, there was no need to send her globe trotting around when a simple encrypted email or text could do the trick.
"Are you alright?" Eve asked.
"Y-yes," Q stuttered, quickly running through what options she had in her head. It seemed foolish to go with the truth, but as she caught Eve's eye she felt more at ease. "I just haven't been on a plane in 10 no- 12 years. It's...a phobia of mine."
Instead of derision or amusement, Eve's eyes sparked. She reached over and placed her hand over Q's squeezing it tightly.
"Let me go." She said.
"Pardon?" Q asked, blinking in surprise.
"Someone has to go. And let's just say, I have some unfinished business with 007." Eve said, her smile turning sly. She leaned back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. Q could see a plan formulating in her mind. "When M brings it up just suggest I go."
"I don't think I can do that." Q said.
"Of course you can. She may be M, but you're Q." Eve quipped. "Those one letter ranks hold more power than you've yet to realize."
This time, it was Q's turn to grin. She didn't need any further convincing. She had promised herself long ago that she wouldn't get on a plane as long as she could help it and she had no intention of breaking that promise. Not for M or for Queen or Country. And certainly not for the likes of James Bond.
Nothing about Q's employment, from the initial appointment up until now had been typical. As she was led through the entry into M's home, she wondered if the previous Quartermaster had ever been called over. Given the extraordinary circumstances, she imagined the answer was no. It stoked her ego, knowing how heated it would have made him or any of the other superiors who had pushed for her termination.
That's entirely inappropriate. She scolded herself as she followed behind Moneypenny, her jacket having been deposited in the front hall. Even if it's true.
To Q's surprise, the den was littered with books. Floor to ceiling shelves lined either side of an immaculate fireplace. In front of it, sat two large couches with a low table in between where several large volumes were stacked while some seemed haphazardly placed around them. The rest of the furniture seemed more in line with Q's expectations, all of it terribly old and likely terribly expensive. But the room, and the townhouse as a whole seemed strangely lived in, despite the knowledge she had that M was, by all accounts, a hopeless addict when it came to the job at hand. She followed Eve and took a seat next to her on one of the over-stuffed couches before letting the strap of her bag fall off her shoulder as she gathered in up into her lap and held it tightly against her chest. A small fire shuttered noisily in the hearth.
Just as Eve had expected, Mallory was nowhere to be seen. Tanner approached Q, placing M's laptop in front of her. Q accepted it, pulling it into her lap for an assessment as M and Eve spoke to one another.
It's ancient. Q thought, only mildly horrified. She ran her finger across the mousepad, taking in the damage that had been done while at the same time, trying to keep track of what was being said around her.
"-all we can to extract them, but Mallory believes the inquiry will be pushed up."
"If that's true we have less time to prepare than we thought. Call MacKay in MI-5 and see if he can pull the files dating back to the-"
"Yes, ma'am,"
As Q surveyed the video file, she couldn't but think back to OBERON again.
Why is it lingering in my mind? It's not important; it's in the past.
Her eyes drifted upwards to look just above the screen. M was seated in front of her, a glass in her hand. She didn't seem nervous or even put out by the ever-worsening circumstances.
Not even as her career implodes around her. It's admirable. For someone who has been in this as long as she has.
M, having realized that Q was watching her, addressed the Quartermaster.
"Well?" She questioned. "Your team has had forty-eight hours to review the files. Do you know who's done this?"
The chatter around them faded and Q felt several pairs of eyes focused on her.
It's in the past...Q thought. Swallowing, she said, "I don't...but, I believe you do."
A heady silence followed, swallowing up even the sound of the fire. As M's stare turned to steel, Q looked away, glancing around the room. Eve and Tanner were watching her with wide eyes.
"And I've already told you, I don't." M said stiffly.
Q straightening, looking back to M. Dead in the eye.
"Forgive me, Ma'am." Q said, undeterred. "But that's a lie."
Tanner coughed, drawing M's attention.
"Moneypenny, Tanner." She said, "That will be all."
Tanner sputtered. "Ma'am, I-"
"See that the car comes around at eight in the morning." M directed. "I'm certain Q can make her own way home once I'm done with her."
She shot a narrow glance in Q's direction.
"Um, y-yes, of course." Q said, sensing any other answer would not be met favorably.
Thoroughly dismissed, both Tanner and Eve gathered their things and ghosted away, leaving Q and M alone. The silence persisted and Q suddenly wondered how bad it would have been to be boarding a plane.
Christ, am I going to be sacked? She thought, Again?!
As if reading her mind, M finally spoke, "Would you care for a drink?"
Q shook her head, her grip tightening on the laptop.
M rounded the couch and reached for a decanter that sat on a small table. She poured herself another heaping serving before returning to her seat.
"Mallory is very impressed with your work." M said, meeting Q's eye before taking a long drink from her glass.
Q's shoulders dipped slightly, relief coursing through her veins. She waited patiently for her superior to continue.
"You see before the attack, when the mission was just a field failure with the potential to the salvaged," M explained. "Mallory informed me that he had been chosen to oversee my retirement."
Q flinched. This was news to her, though it would explain why Mallory had been present at her hiring.
"If not for this...attack, I may have been able to fight it." M continued, her eyes drifting to the fire. "In any case, I plan to nominate Mallory as my replacement so it's fortunate that he's warmed to you. I'd hate to have my final appointment unceremoniously dumped by a foolhardy pencil-pusher."
Q breathed a laugh, finally feeling comfortable enough to exhale.
"Whatever happens," M said. "I want you to know, it won't be easy."
"Ma'am?" Q questioned.
"After looking through your file, I'm sure you're no stranger to what I'm about to say, but I believe it bears repeating." M advised. "There will be people within the organization, people outside of it, as well as people who have no business commenting on it at all that will deem you unworthy of this post. They will insist you don't belong. That you're incompetent. That there's someone, some man, better suited for the position. They will make constant references to your "predecessor" and bemoan any changes you exact. My advice to you is...don't pay them any mind."
Q smiled. It was grim. The truth of M's words sinking in. She did understand. Far too well.
"I don't intend to." Q said, "Ma'am."
"Good," M said, finishing off her drink. "Now, there's something I need you do assist me with."
"Yes Ma'am." Q said, straightening. "Gladly."
"Something I need to record." She gestured towards the laptop. "I take it that thing can take video?"
"It can." Q said, brow furrowing.
"Then get it set."
Q nodded, pushing the laptop back and going through the necessary motions. Once it was ready, she adjusted the screen so that M was in center view.
"Alright, ma'am." She said, "It's ready."
With little fuss, M brushed her hair back and looked dead on into the camera. Taking that as the signal, Q pressed 'record' and nodded silently to M.
"If anything happens to me 007," M said, "I need you to do something."
Q's head shot up as she took in the words.
"Find a man called Marco Sciarra." She continued, her steely eyes still trained right down the barrel of the camera lense. "Kill him. And don't miss the funeral."
Q stumbled over the keys, stopping the video just as M glanced up at her.
"What was-" She started.
"Don't ask questions." M ordered. "I'm afraid this is above your pay grade."
Q frowned. Nothing was above her pay grade. Not any more.
"But-"
"I want this file transferred off this machine and secured." M continued, unabated. "I'm trusting you to deliver it to 007, only in the event of my death. Is that understood."
Q neither nodded nor shook her head. She just stared for a moment, trying to process what she had just witnessed.
"Ma'am, I have to ask-"
"No, you don't." M spat. "You just have to comply. No one can know of this. Not even 007."
"I'm sorry?"
"If I do in fact die, you'll have to find some way to get it to him without him knowing of your involvement. He won't take kindly to such meddling."
Q opened her mouth to protest, but M shot her a look that had her withering.
Don't argue it now. Q thought. What are the chances she'll die anyway?
Against her better judgement (and a heaping helping a curiosity), Q relented. "Alright."
"Good girl." M said, rising. "That will be all."
Q rose to her feet, taking the laptop in hand and stuffing it into her messenger bag.
"Mallory has assured me he will keep Bond informed." M said, "You have more pressing matters to attend to."
Q simply nodded, following M out into the hallway. She retrieved her jacket from the coat rack by the door and slipped it over her shoulders before reaching for the door. Just as she opened it, she heard M call to her.
"Q?"
Q turned around, she could hear the rain pouring outside and feel the chill of the night coming from the crack in the doorway.
"Yes?"
M stood at the end of the hall, she looked smaller than normal, her face marred by the shadows of the darkened hall.
"I do have one other piece of advice." She said, almost warily. "If you're willing to take it."
Q nodded, jerking her shoulder back to ease the strap of her bag up higher. "Of course."
"Don't play favorites." M said, after a heady pause. "It's the only thing I truly regret."
Thirty-Six Hours Later...
"Now, looking at Silva's computer, it seems he's done a number of rather unusual things."
Bond slipped his hands into his pockets, his eyes taking in the new Q Branch. Temporary as it may be, the contrast to the old laboratory was stark. In his old age, Major Boothroyd and his brood of underlings had maintained a cluttered and overstuffed "office." The low ceilings and enveloping dampness (no matter the weather in the outside world above), was reason enough for Bond to avoid the branch whenever possible. He preferred instead to receive mission briefs from the comfort of his office with the help of his assistant, Nina. She was the youngest of the Double-Oh pool, but capable and decidedly warmer than the largely male staff who he always found too eager to please.
This new office however, was spotless. A minimalist's paradise compared to the laboratories that Boothroyd lorded over. The sheen of white paint, so new he could still smell traces of lingering chemicals, made the room seem larger than it likely was. Bond casually shifted his show to the side to get a better look at the vast array of drives and terminals that had been built up below the glass floor underfoot. A slim man was walking just below, monitoring the machines carefully. Hatches built into the floor were accessorized with two different locking pass codes and were under direct order to remain closed at all times. From what he understood, members of the branch took shifts in what was being referred to as the "galley."
Bond looked up and cast another glance around the room. There was hardly a gadget in sight. There seemed to be more computers than there were people, actually. Clearly, this new Q and her branch of even newer hires had a different set of priorities in mind. In fact, he was finding it difficult to pinpoint any similarities between the old Q and this newer, younger model.
Aside from the chatter, Bond thought, his gaze shifting back to Q as she continued with her explanation. She seemed entirely unaware of his probing eye, focused as she was on one screen or another. He was fairly certain she was wearing the exact same pair of slim slacks she had worn upon their first meeting. Her blouse, once again buttoned all the way up past her collar bone, was also adorned with a bow in place of a tie. An oddly feminine touch, given the overall androgyny of her style...if one could call it that. The sweater she wore looked new and expensive, but the rust coloring did nothing for her slightly pallid complexion.
Perhaps they just like to hear themselves talk. He concluded, thinking back to several long winded conversations he had been forced to suffer through with the old Q.
"...He's established failsafe protocols to wipe the memory if there's any attempt to access certain files." Q finished, adjusting her glasses. "Only about six people in the world could program safeguards like that."
"Of course there are. Can you get past them?" Bond asked impatiently.
Q smiled. It was small and swift, like a dashing ember, but Bond's keen eye caught sight of it.
"I invented them." She said, simply. "Right then, let's see what you've got for us, Mr. Silva."
At the mention of his name, Bond was reminded suddenly of the conversation he had had with their current adversary on the abandoned isle.
"Chasing spies, so old fashioned." Silva said, apparently having yet to tire of haranguing his captive audience. "I am surprised, Mr. Bond, that you've yet to spring one of those little gadgets from those fools in Q branch."
"I'm afraid I wasn't given much to work with." Bond replied with a shrug, rubbing at his freed wrists as he tried to weigh his options. It was true. Not much could be done with a gun and a radio, even if he had managed to activate the latter without much trouble.
If I manage to get out of this. Bond thought, I'll have to talk to the with that little-
"No, I suppose you wouldn't." Silva said, his strangely gentle timbre turning wistful. "A young one like that is too clever for such primitive means."
Realizing that he could only be referring to the newly instated Q, Bond's frown deepened. How could he know? Bond couldn't be sure but he estimated that barely forty-eight hours had passed since she had officially entered the field. And even if they were being watched, how could Silva or his men be certain that she was in fact the Quartermaster and not some secretary or misdirect? Whatever the answer, it didn't sit well.
"She is like me that one." Silva said, breaking Bond's train of thought. Bond turned his blue eyes towards Silva once more. The man's smile turned wolfish. "There's an artistry to this sort of work, Bond. Few understand it. But she does...O pessaro preto."
Silva's hands raked over the keys of his laptop, just as slowly and as suggestively as they had Bond's thighs just moments ago.
And now Q's hands did the same, if only for a moment. From his position behind her, Bond could see her the shadow of her face reflected in the cavernous black of Silva's seized laptop screen. A bantam chill ran up his spine. There was something...strange about this girl. She certainly dressed and spoke like a toff, but aside from that there was little that reminded him of the old Q. Was it the way she spoke? Her words so impossibly quick yet easily understood, how they slipped from her mouth like viciously poised snakes hidden under the guise of old world decorum. Or was it the way the harsh light caught her glasses, erasing any sign of the keen dark eyes lurking underneath? Something about her poked at Bond's carefully sharpened instincts. She was dangerous. Somehow. Bond tried to shake it off as he looked her up and down once more. Everything about her appearance told him to think otherwise. And yet, Silva's words echoed persistently in the back of his mind.
She is like me that one...
A second later the black screen jumped to life. Several blocks of frustratingly small text appeared.
"We're in." She said, the smallest of grins ghosting across her face.
To Bond, the text was small and indecipherable.
"M'am," Came a voice from the block of colleagues spread out behind them. "What do you make of this?"
The large screen on the wall mirrored whatever it was they wanted her to see.
"This is his omega site." Q said, turning back to her own laptop. It was a slimmer model, the back of the screen was covered in stickers that had seen wear and tear. "Most encrypted level he has."
With a few deft clicks, she took over control of the screen. Her eyes never left it, even while her fingers dashed quickly across the keypad.
"Look like obfuscated code to conceal its true purpose...security through obscurity."
She plugged away, fighting against another smile. This was the sort of work she loved. A puzzle begging to be pulled apart and completed in an entirely new way. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself the pleasure of going toe to toe with a hacker truly worth his salt.
"He's using a polymorphic engine to manipulate the code." She explained, not only for Bond's benefit but likely for some of the less experienced members of her team. "Whenever I try to gain access it changes. It's like trying to solve a rubik's cube that's fighting back."
Bond watched the screen closely, but none of it seemed to make a wink of sense to his untrained eye-
"Stop." He said suddenly, as a series of passing letters caught his attention. "Go in on that."
Q did so.
"Granborough." Bond said, recognizing it fully now. "It's an old tube station on the metropolitan line. Use that as a key"
The screen morphed, lines of white code melding together until it had all turned to red. Like a writhing organism the code reshaped, forming into something entirely different.
"Oh look it's a map." Q said, realizing it first.
"It's London," Bond said. "Subterranean London."
Before they could continue any further, a familiar gasping noise echoed around the room. Q turned, recognizing the sound instantly.
But that doesn't...I haven't approved anyone to open the doors.
"What's going on?" She asked, "Why're the doors open?"
A blur of black sped past her and in an instant Bond was gone, fleeing out the door and down the stairs into the shadows. To make matters worse, a low, steady beeping filled the room. Q spun back around. The words SYSTEM SECURITY BREACH flashing large and loud at the center of the screen.
"Can someone tell me how the hell he got into our system?" She questioned aloud, her voice going hard.
A flash of red caught her eye and she glanced down to Silva's laptop. A familiar skull appeared at the center of the screen and underneath it was a message.
Not such a clever girl.
But it wasn't the taunt that drove the nail into her heart. Unlike the skull she had seen in the images on M's computer this time it was animated, the head chomping gleefully down of the skeletal figure of a small bird.
"Oh shit."
How?! She thought, her eyes fixated on the little bird gyrating in pain. How could he know?
Reaching down she pulled the chords from the blasted thing, slamming the case shut. She looked up to see all eyes on her.
"He hacked us." She said, forcing her growing into something more predictable, that of embarrassment and anger.
She felt neither embarrassed or angry, however. Panic pulsed through her veins, a million questions all converging into one.
For years she had kept her past successfully hidden. But Silva knew who she was, no- who she had been...which begged the question: who else knew?
Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear from you! I always got the sense that Q and Moneypenny would be good work friends. Not much in common outside of the job but they definitely enjoy each others company and the occasional gossip. I look forward to the exploring that a but more as I go along.
One last chapter for Skyfall, then the story will take a bit of a detour to a little original work before delving into Spectre. Getting back to this is definitely helping to fill the "No Time to Die" hole in my heart. Though I am happy they did the smart thing and pushed back the release date. Stay safe out there!