BDP31
It was becoming more and more imperative that Ian find a way to speak to Moira, as they had a great deal to discuss. He was not at all happy with their very limited conversation, there were things he needed to know and things he needed to tell her. He was also, not that he wanted to admit it, feeling the secondary effects as strongly as his brothers were.
It was taking all his considerable will not to take what his body was demanding. He knew exactly what he was missing, how could he not? She was right in front of him, dangerously close. If he could find a place they could be private.but there were no such safe locations.
Ian felt a grudging admiration for Casca. The wily old bastard had made sure there were no holes in the lab areas' security to exploit. Over the past two days Nottingham had casually and subtly shifted furniture and equipment to make blind spots or set up audio interference. Almost everything was returned to its original position within a few hours. He hadn't found any way to have a more detailed conversation with Moira without being seen and heard.
Many people would have been discouraged, but to Ian the little dance had shown him exactly where all the cameras and listening devices were. Knowledge was a priceless commodity, especially when one knew what to do with it.
For instance, there was no infrared scanning, which meant that after 'lights-out' they had only the audio to go by. Ian had freely wandered the areas of the complex that did not require a passkey, and had not been intercepted. Bypassing the doors was an option, but he preferred not to use it. It was too easy to detect the tampering, and to predictable. Besides, it WAS too easy. Casca had to have a hidden redundancy to let him know if the doors had been accessed. He had been too careful with everything else to forget to take care of such an obvious weakness.
Yet for all that caution, Ian had found two potential egress points that held fewer chances of being detected, even if used multiple times. The first being the air vents. The locks and alarms were child's play to bypass, and hard enough to get to that no one checked them regularly. Ian smiled slightly; it was ironic that the only reason he could get to them was the increased strength and agility given him by the drugs.
The other option was the in the waste disposal area. Ian had discovered something interesting on his nocturnal wanderings. A few of the cleaning staff were making extra money smuggling misinventoried, old, and/or out of date equipment through an ancient stairwell that was tucked in behind the complex's massive incinerator. None of the scientists had any reason to go back there, and it probably didn't even show up on the updated schematics. Ian might have missed it too; if he hadn't been following a janitor who's behavior struck him as off. It was a crooked Requisitions Officer's dream, and possibly his key to freedom
The only drawback to the hidden stairwell was that he didn't know where it let out. The venting was easy. He'd seen the concrete ends from the top of the firing range. They were hard to miss, as they stood the regulation four feet above ground and were curved to keep out rainwater. They were toward the rear of the base, just before the foothills began. There were fewer opportunities for cover that way, so he was hoping the stairwell exit would offer easier egress. Well, he was about to find out.
The stairwell emptied out into a disused bunker, appropriately enough. The amount of equipment and dust told him people who were smuggling government property considered this a secure site, and had for a very long time. He would have to be careful not to be discovered by said personnel, but otherwise this offered him a much more protected route than the venting ducts.
Alert and watchful for danger, Nottingham eased the door open and stepped out into the night. He was on the edge of the Motor Pool. An M75 APC sat conveniently in front of the ramp up from the bunker. It was doubtful that it would ever move from its current location, that style of tank having fallen out of use in the sixties. Of course, given the amount of rust on the treads and body, he wasn't at all sure it could be moved.
Ian checked the area and found it abandoned. He moved quickly and quietly toward the base housing.
It was becoming more and more imperative that Ian find a way to speak to Moira, as they had a great deal to discuss. He was not at all happy with their very limited conversation, there were things he needed to know and things he needed to tell her. He was also, not that he wanted to admit it, feeling the secondary effects as strongly as his brothers were.
It was taking all his considerable will not to take what his body was demanding. He knew exactly what he was missing, how could he not? She was right in front of him, dangerously close. If he could find a place they could be private.but there were no such safe locations.
Ian felt a grudging admiration for Casca. The wily old bastard had made sure there were no holes in the lab areas' security to exploit. Over the past two days Nottingham had casually and subtly shifted furniture and equipment to make blind spots or set up audio interference. Almost everything was returned to its original position within a few hours. He hadn't found any way to have a more detailed conversation with Moira without being seen and heard.
Many people would have been discouraged, but to Ian the little dance had shown him exactly where all the cameras and listening devices were. Knowledge was a priceless commodity, especially when one knew what to do with it.
For instance, there was no infrared scanning, which meant that after 'lights-out' they had only the audio to go by. Ian had freely wandered the areas of the complex that did not require a passkey, and had not been intercepted. Bypassing the doors was an option, but he preferred not to use it. It was too easy to detect the tampering, and to predictable. Besides, it WAS too easy. Casca had to have a hidden redundancy to let him know if the doors had been accessed. He had been too careful with everything else to forget to take care of such an obvious weakness.
Yet for all that caution, Ian had found two potential egress points that held fewer chances of being detected, even if used multiple times. The first being the air vents. The locks and alarms were child's play to bypass, and hard enough to get to that no one checked them regularly. Ian smiled slightly; it was ironic that the only reason he could get to them was the increased strength and agility given him by the drugs.
The other option was the in the waste disposal area. Ian had discovered something interesting on his nocturnal wanderings. A few of the cleaning staff were making extra money smuggling misinventoried, old, and/or out of date equipment through an ancient stairwell that was tucked in behind the complex's massive incinerator. None of the scientists had any reason to go back there, and it probably didn't even show up on the updated schematics. Ian might have missed it too; if he hadn't been following a janitor who's behavior struck him as off. It was a crooked Requisitions Officer's dream, and possibly his key to freedom
The only drawback to the hidden stairwell was that he didn't know where it let out. The venting was easy. He'd seen the concrete ends from the top of the firing range. They were hard to miss, as they stood the regulation four feet above ground and were curved to keep out rainwater. They were toward the rear of the base, just before the foothills began. There were fewer opportunities for cover that way, so he was hoping the stairwell exit would offer easier egress. Well, he was about to find out.
The stairwell emptied out into a disused bunker, appropriately enough. The amount of equipment and dust told him people who were smuggling government property considered this a secure site, and had for a very long time. He would have to be careful not to be discovered by said personnel, but otherwise this offered him a much more protected route than the venting ducts.
Alert and watchful for danger, Nottingham eased the door open and stepped out into the night. He was on the edge of the Motor Pool. An M75 APC sat conveniently in front of the ramp up from the bunker. It was doubtful that it would ever move from its current location, that style of tank having fallen out of use in the sixties. Of course, given the amount of rust on the treads and body, he wasn't at all sure it could be moved.
Ian checked the area and found it abandoned. He moved quickly and quietly toward the base housing.