Post by Deleted on Jun 2, 2014 14:00:46 GMT -8
As she walked through the crowded market, her posture was stooped over in the manner of someone nearing their hundredth year. In one hand was a cane, and a heavy pack slung over her back made her even more hunchbacked. Discreetly peeking around, she made sure that no one had seen her, before ducking into a nearby doorway.
Once inside the building, she glanced around to ensure that no one had taken this hiding space as their own. With a grace that defied her apparent age, the pack was swung about, her hands filing through it’s contents with a deftness that no 100-year-old possessed. Her hair slipped out from under the hood, silvery-white tendrils showing hints of yellow from neglect. Myriad wrinkles had formed on her face, the most pronounced of which wrapped about eyes that flanked a ridged nose. Still, the eyes bore the clearness of youth, not the milky-white of advanced age, and were free of rheum.
Still, she was an innocuous figure, and it was unlikely that anyone was watching her too closely. Removing a bottle from her bag, she placed it beside a retaining beam, before tearing a strip from her cloak. She tucked the strip in the bottle, ensuring that it touched the liquid inside, before lighting it with a flint and tinder. Grabbing a paper-wrapped package from a nearby table, she quickly yet quietly moved towards the building’s rear exit.
She’d began to break a sweat while in the building, but as she exited, she forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily. She assumed the limping gait once more, but still made more than 50 paces before an explosion shook the area with a loud BOOM. After the initial explosion there were sounds of glass shattering, and people crying out in fear. Still, she kept her eyes forward, not wanting to attract undue attention to herself. Going to aid people nearby would only increase the chances of suspicion.
She hobbled to the other side of the city, ignoring the sirens and gossip that she heard as she went. Her destination was the sole raised spire at the edge of town. It overlooked a courtyard, where the planet’s King would soon be heading out for his nightly ride.
The guards who normally minded the spire were gone, hoping to provide assistance to whoever they could after the explosion, so she entered with ease. Once she made sure she was alone, she barricaded the door behind her, setting a glass vessel atop the barricade to alert her of any unanticipated company.
She took the stairs up to the top of the spire at a bounding pace of two at a time, throwing her satchel down once she’d reached the top. The sniper rifle was a projectile model, which caused her to scowl, but anything else would have caused unwanted attention in the pre-industrial world. She rapidly assembled the rifle before dropping down to her stomach and edging towards one of the narrow arrow slits in the spire.
As the King departed for his ride, she grinned savagely. Right on time, she thought.
Her finger poised on the trigger as her breathing slowed, and she attempted to lower her heart rate. Don’t pull; squeeze.
The cold feeling of steel pressed into her temple and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Computer, end program,” said the man holding the gun.
Rychel rolled over on the floor, standing easily. A scowl marked her features, which had returned to their youthful state when the holodeck program was terminated. “I did everything right this time!” she protested.
“Did you?” Asked the near mocking voice of the Intelligence officer, a human man with the all-too-appropriate moniker “Commander Stern.”
She sighed. “My pace and posture were good. I wasn’t obviously assessing my surroundings. I entered the first building when no one was looking, and I made sure to grab the package of important documents. I didn’t turn around to look at the explosion. I acted as though I was deaf as I walked across the city. I entered the spire when no one was looking, barricaded the door, and placed something to notify me if someone else entered,” she said, going through a list which included other things that had given away her cover in the previous attempts.
“The closet?” Stern queried.
“The closet?” she responded, her voice incredulous. Then she thought back to their earlier session, when she’d been given blueprints. She slapped her forehead frustrated. “Why was someone in the closet?”
“Hooking up with his young lover, of course.”
“Seriously?”
“You would be amazed at the number of Intelligence operations foiled by an untimely tryst.”
Rychel sighed, sliding down onto the floor of the holodeck.
“You knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” Stern said, in a weak effort to be comforting.
“I expected to be better at this than I am,” she grumbled.
“Everyone messes up at first…”
“It’s been a month!”
Stern raised an eyebrow. “It takes most of us years.”
“Most of you aren’t the sister of the Deputy Director of Intelligence,” Rychel replied, hotly.
“He has high standards because he wants you to stay alive.”
Tag: ??
Once inside the building, she glanced around to ensure that no one had taken this hiding space as their own. With a grace that defied her apparent age, the pack was swung about, her hands filing through it’s contents with a deftness that no 100-year-old possessed. Her hair slipped out from under the hood, silvery-white tendrils showing hints of yellow from neglect. Myriad wrinkles had formed on her face, the most pronounced of which wrapped about eyes that flanked a ridged nose. Still, the eyes bore the clearness of youth, not the milky-white of advanced age, and were free of rheum.
Still, she was an innocuous figure, and it was unlikely that anyone was watching her too closely. Removing a bottle from her bag, she placed it beside a retaining beam, before tearing a strip from her cloak. She tucked the strip in the bottle, ensuring that it touched the liquid inside, before lighting it with a flint and tinder. Grabbing a paper-wrapped package from a nearby table, she quickly yet quietly moved towards the building’s rear exit.
She’d began to break a sweat while in the building, but as she exited, she forced herself to breathe slowly and steadily. She assumed the limping gait once more, but still made more than 50 paces before an explosion shook the area with a loud BOOM. After the initial explosion there were sounds of glass shattering, and people crying out in fear. Still, she kept her eyes forward, not wanting to attract undue attention to herself. Going to aid people nearby would only increase the chances of suspicion.
She hobbled to the other side of the city, ignoring the sirens and gossip that she heard as she went. Her destination was the sole raised spire at the edge of town. It overlooked a courtyard, where the planet’s King would soon be heading out for his nightly ride.
The guards who normally minded the spire were gone, hoping to provide assistance to whoever they could after the explosion, so she entered with ease. Once she made sure she was alone, she barricaded the door behind her, setting a glass vessel atop the barricade to alert her of any unanticipated company.
She took the stairs up to the top of the spire at a bounding pace of two at a time, throwing her satchel down once she’d reached the top. The sniper rifle was a projectile model, which caused her to scowl, but anything else would have caused unwanted attention in the pre-industrial world. She rapidly assembled the rifle before dropping down to her stomach and edging towards one of the narrow arrow slits in the spire.
As the King departed for his ride, she grinned savagely. Right on time, she thought.
Her finger poised on the trigger as her breathing slowed, and she attempted to lower her heart rate. Don’t pull; squeeze.
The cold feeling of steel pressed into her temple and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Computer, end program,” said the man holding the gun.
Rychel rolled over on the floor, standing easily. A scowl marked her features, which had returned to their youthful state when the holodeck program was terminated. “I did everything right this time!” she protested.
“Did you?” Asked the near mocking voice of the Intelligence officer, a human man with the all-too-appropriate moniker “Commander Stern.”
She sighed. “My pace and posture were good. I wasn’t obviously assessing my surroundings. I entered the first building when no one was looking, and I made sure to grab the package of important documents. I didn’t turn around to look at the explosion. I acted as though I was deaf as I walked across the city. I entered the spire when no one was looking, barricaded the door, and placed something to notify me if someone else entered,” she said, going through a list which included other things that had given away her cover in the previous attempts.
“The closet?” Stern queried.
“The closet?” she responded, her voice incredulous. Then she thought back to their earlier session, when she’d been given blueprints. She slapped her forehead frustrated. “Why was someone in the closet?”
“Hooking up with his young lover, of course.”
“Seriously?”
“You would be amazed at the number of Intelligence operations foiled by an untimely tryst.”
Rychel sighed, sliding down onto the floor of the holodeck.
“You knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” Stern said, in a weak effort to be comforting.
“I expected to be better at this than I am,” she grumbled.
“Everyone messes up at first…”
“It’s been a month!”
Stern raised an eyebrow. “It takes most of us years.”
“Most of you aren’t the sister of the Deputy Director of Intelligence,” Rychel replied, hotly.
“He has high standards because he wants you to stay alive.”
Tag: ??