I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. The dagger in my palm and the plan in my head helped somewhat, but I couldn't believe I was actually doing this. All the training, all those countless hours with Haco and Allie, were finally being put to the test. I had to get to that computer port. All I had to do after that, was plug in the drive I had hidden in a secret compartment of my newfound cleavage, and Haco and Mot would take over.

Haco and Mot had been working on the programme which should extract the code the entire night—Mot had tried to explain it to me, but I had trailed off as soon as he had started talking. Haco, on the other hand, seemed to pick it up much easier; Mot had found a kindred spirit. Whilst Mot was amazing in figuring out the numbers, puzzling together the labyrinth of digits, Haco was a wizard at building things, creating these incredibly small machines—including the drive on which the code had to be loaded. Haco didn't know what the shape of the port would be, so he made it so, that it would adapt to any shape.

If our hunches had been right, the code would be somewhere in the computer port, hidden between the lines of data of the mainframe of the Globe. Mot had deciphered the programme which controlled the Globe as far as he could, but the code he was writing missed a crucial part; the part I was hopefully able to extract tonight. If everything went according to plan, Mot would then be able to access the mainframe of the Globe, and take over control. He was also able to alter the rules and regulations of the arm scan, even eliminating certain features. But the most important things right now was, that we would have a complete map of the Globes—including the catacombs of the Authorities. We would know the passwords, entrances, layout and occupations of the Authorities, who were the main enemy of the rebellion. With all that info, the real work could start.

And the best thing was that the Authorities would never find out that we had been snooping around.

The programme had been written in such a way, that we would be like ghosts on the mainframe. It should wipe out all our traces, no matter how big they were. We could even shut down the entire monetary system if we wanted (although that would be highly illogical and useless)—in theory. Mot had said that he had been working on the programme since the day he decided that he had to break in, and that day had been well over three years—cycles—ago. He kept tweaking and editing the data, but it all just didn't fit together. Then he came to the conclusion that he must've missed a part of the system codes of the mainframe. He had gotten a large chunk of it back when he had been working in IT, but never all of it. To make the machinery, they had needed the data to program the chips and weapons, to make them obey the orders of the main computer of this particular Globe, but they had never gotten the data which could make the Globe itself obey their will.

The problem was that Mot had never gotten the chance to do a test drive—and how could he have? He had to make the programme as good as he could get it, but mistakes could always be made. We just had to trust Mot's and Haco's combined skills, and hope for the best. I had put my trust in the guys, and the rest, too. This had to work.

But that was all for later concern. Right now, I had to get to that port. If I didn't, our chance would be spent, and this could well be the last chance we could have in a very long time—Balder wouldn't give us anymore blueprints.

I exhaled deeply as I walked to the door, the soft material of my flats silent on the marble floor. I kept my breathing steady, straining my ears to hear when the guards would pass this hallway. I didn't have to wait long—bless those low-rank Authorities and their punctuality. They were right on time. I waited a few more moments so they could pass before opening the door, hoping it wouldn't make a sound. Luckily, it didn't, and I could quietly close the door behind me. The hallway was clad in shades of white and grey as well, the doors old and made of matte metal. Servant's passages, just as the map had told me they would be. The lights in the hallway were turned down to a dim glow, providing just enough light so one could make out their surroundings, but not more. It only worked in my advantage, so I didn't mind. With another careful look I stepped into the hallway, leaving the safe, dark alcove of the door behind me.

I couldn't help my thoughts from wandering as I sneaked through the endless halls. I knew where I had to go because I had memorised the map. Before I knew it, I was walking on instinct, my thoughts taking off.

I slowed down my pace when the lights became brighter, signifying that the habituated part of the Residence wasn't far away. Suddenly, an odd thought flashed by: why am I doing this?

I used to do this—going through all of this trouble to get the code— because we would also get access to the prisoners records. Back then, I still believed Kael was trapped in those catacombs, trapped and tortured for information. After what happened last week, I had let that go. I had no personal reasons to get those records anymore, but I still wanted to do this. I soon came to the conclusion I wanted to do this for the sake of the regg.

I had experienced first-hand how the regg lived, and I couldn't let the Masters and their Stripes do any more harm. Bile rose in my throat as I thought about the Circuit, the underground network of brothels and dealers of narcotics, where the regg were pulled into when they were desperate for credits. Most of them would be bound by the shackles of the Circuit the moment they entered, and they would never return back to normal life. Many regg were living on the edge of that line, fighting to withstand the promise of food and a roof above their heads. Some just gave up, living the rest of their already-short lives in a bar like Balder's, drowning themselves in liquor or numbing themselves with narcotics.

The cause of the rebels was a good one, and I was willing to put myself at risk. Cold determination suddenly pumped through my veins, mixed with white-hot adrenalin. My mind cleared as I saw my goal ahead of me. Keep ahold of your goal. Your instincts will lead you to safety, my father's voice suddenly sounded in my head. It was when I had said goodbye to him, back when the camp was under attack. I thought he had been talking about my leaving, but only now I realised he was talking about every choice I had made since then.

All I wanted was to get Kael, and head home. Everything I had done since I left was to achieve that goal, to get us back to safety. And I had failed. I couldn't get Kael back, and Cilen was still suffering, if he hadn't died already. I hoped for him he was still hanging on, fighting against the bite of the Mekayka wolf. He was tough as nails—he had to live. I would never forgive myself if he died.

I kept following the artificial torches as I came back to reality, careful to stay out of their light. I followed the map I had memorised, cautiously waiting at each crossing of hallways. Once, two guards had walked by, clad in dark blue, cotton suits. Guns were strapped to their hips, as well as a blade, and a helmet covered their head and face. They had walked past my hiding spot in the shadows, having a soft conversation about the ball with their palms resting on their guns. They were Authorities, like the ones in the streets, but had been set on guard duty as a punishment or simply because they were still in training. More than often, I had heard sentries complain about the boring balls when they were standing on guard in the ballroom, and the endless patrols that came with it. I had heard that most of the time, their only worry was "some drunk airheads", so I didn't think they would be very serious about their duty.

Without any other incidents I reached the head of the Family's study chambers, which I recognised by the two large oakwood doors with gold plated knobs. I looked to my left and right, checking if the hallway was empty. I had reached the habituated part of the Residence, the hallways considerably different. A thick carpet was laid on the floor, and paintings and statues decorated the hallways. Lights hung from the ceiling, bathing everything in a golden glow. There were doors to my left and to my right, leading to empty rooms, practice chambers and many more which I couldn't all remember. I had one goal, the study, so the bedroom of aunt so-and-so wasn't important.

The doors were made of wood, old and dark, probably heirlooms. I recalled some of Allie's lessons about the Families; apparently, the Fairlands were a centuries old Family, which had survived the war and were able to recover some of their old glory. The doors alone would cost a fortune—if they really were made of wood. I still found the way the uppers chose to display their riches quite strange, and most of all: useless. Why spend credits on wooden doors, while the poor died in the streets? Because the uppers don't know they are, I thought wryly, rubbing my palms against my thighs once more.

The next challenge was the lock. I pulled the hair pins out of my hair, my brown strands slipping loose and brushing my shoulders. I shook them loose, sinking to my knees and sticking the pins in the keyhole. After some twisting and silent swearing, I heard a snap, and the lock sprung loose. With a content grin I slipped the pins in my bodice, not skilfully enough to use them to pin up my hair again. Tucking my hair behind my ear I slipped into the room, closing it shut behind me. The lock sprung back into place, but not before I had pressed the button next to the handle. If that button wasn't pressed after the door opened, a light would go off in the control room, and a guard would immediately be sent to the room. I supposed Fairlands liked his privacy. The door opened effortlessly from this side, so luckily I didn't have to pick that blasted lock again on my way out.

I turned around, taking in the room before me. It was decorated in shades of white and black, very different from the hallway on the other side of the door. The study itself was very neat, everything in its correct place. On the right was a large book cabinet, halfway filled with relics and ornaments and the other half with books—old ones and new, made of a new synthetic material. Riven had told me all about them a while ago, practically beaming at the innovation. Two large fireplaces stood on both sides of the door, and there was a large bureau on the other side of the room, opposite the book cabinet. On the wall in front of me hung an enormous painting, displaying a landscape with mountains, a lake and a thousand rocks. It had been painted from a ground viewpoint, and the many rocks in the foreground were so detailed, it was like I could touch it, and feel their roughness. The water sloshed around the rocks in a lazy way, like there had been a soft breeze which pushed away the water. I couldn't believe how the painter could have make it so realistic, if they had been a Glober. It had to be a relic, because it wasn't that beautiful outside. The water wasn't that clear, it was milky and tasted like sulphur, the forest wasn't that lush and the sky could never be that blue. It was a strange colour, since I was used to a lilac-blue shade, interrupted by ribbons of grey clouds. I supposed it once was that way, before the war. I would like to have seen that.

I pulled my gaze away from the painting, and walked to the bureau first, my heels sinking in the thick, grey carpet which lay on the floor.

The bureau was made of solid black stone, with drawers made of metal. I pushed back the robust, heavy black chair so I could stand in front of it. The bureau seemed to be the only thing in the room what wasn't made out of metal or plastic. A lamp was perched on the surface, and I turned it on with a feather-light touch on the shiny surface. I rummaged through the drawers, only finding an uncharged infopad, some writing paper, and candy wrappers. Lots and lots of candy wrappers. When I pushed some away, one of the blue wrappers flipped over. My gaze got drawn to it—it had a message written on it, but it had partially been smudged out. "12h00, my pl..., got something f..., J.," were the only words I could decipher. Apparently, Fairlands had a lover after all. I scoffed, shaking my head at the childish way he chose to convey his messages.

The drawers didn't hold anything special, so I emptied them on the desk, trying to find hidden compartments. I knocked on every one of them, but no avail. I sighed deeply, crossing my arms and overlooking the mess I'd made. Two moments later I shoved all its contents back in the drawers with a sweep of my arm, and walked over to the book cabinet. I started tapping the backs of the books, old and new, listening carefully for any hollow sounds. That blasted port had to be somewhere—why get into so much trouble to hide 'a rectangular, thin black box, with a screen and a hole to poke the drive in.' But then again, it was something only the Heads had, and it had access to the systems of the House. It had to be hidden from curious regg-servant eyes, somewhere where they wouldn't...

A lightbulb went off in my head, as I stepped back from the book cabinet. A rectangular black box, with a screen.

I had no idea it could be that big.

I jumped over to the painting, carefully touching the surface. It was completely smooth, so realistic that you had to know what you were looking for. Hidden in plain sight—those were the best hiding spots. I grinned, not hidden enough. I ran my fingers along the sides of the painting, trying to find the place to plug my drive in. The bottom and both the sides were completely smooth. With a sigh I looked to the top of the painting, the only place where it could be. Of course it had to be gargantuan—there was no way I could reach the top by myself.

Remembering the large chair, I walked back over to the desk, grabbing the heavy office chair with both hands, dragging it across the room. Since I was hauling the giant piece of furniture to the painting, I only heard it at the last moment. The click of a lock opening, the sounds of a doorknob being turned. I cursed, dropping the stool with a large thump and whipping my head around, trying to look for a place to hide. There isn't one, you idiot, you know that—this room is surrounded by other rooms, with no overhead air shafts. You're trapped.

Nowhere to run now. All I could do was wait.

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~ EarLy UpDatE bEcAUsE I cAN ~

...

2789 words! I'm kind of proud of myself right now. Hope you liked it! If you did, please consider pressing that cute lil' star there in the corner. That would mean the world. Cookies will be offered to the ones who press.

PFFFFH I'M NOT BRIBING WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU THINK I'D DO SUCH A THING?????

Seriously though. I would like you a lot.

Anyhoo....

Have a good weekend my amazing friends, I wish you a good one. Thanks for reading!

- Vivian

PS: are any of you interested in a casting list of the characters...?
Also, who would you choose to play who? I'm curious!