Lazer suits up. His fluorescent red hair goes unwillingly into the helmet. Even under the crushing weight of the outfit, he still manages a certain lithe grace. He's our grease man.
Roki's on the comm. Radioing Central that everything's going as planned. Planned for them, anyway. No mistakes here. Dock time: 25 seconds.
Paul's got the briefcase. Dressed in that banker's getup he looks lost amidst the rest of us. The spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose itch, I can tell. He squints at me, and in a few moments he'll be someone else entirely.
Me, I've got the explosives, all perfectly wired and ready to go. It�s funny to think that my hours of hard labor to get everything just right, and then I go and blow it all up anyway. I like to think of it as my personal chaos theory.
Dock time: 0 seconds.
We all sway a little under the impact. Our engines were cut kilometers away, calculated to the smallest fraction to ensure our inertia would get us to the larger ship at exactly the right velocity, the right place and time. This time is no exception.
Lazer's disappeared to the cargo pressure lock with my bomb. This close to another vessel, dischargements are not allowed by protocol. But around here we like to say "screw protocol."
Paul steps into the pedestrian pressure lock. As the doors finally separate him from us, he flashes us a victory sign. Then he's gone, and it's all up to him now. It's just me and Roki left.
She's still got the comm. system piped into her ear, but they're not hearing anything from us. The screen before her reflects stats and figures of Paul's condition onto her pale face.
I take a station next to her, focusing on Lazer's business. He's not out in the open yet�the time for that comes later. I pull out the comm. that connects me with him, and get it in my ear.
"Laz, how do you feel about depressurizing a few minutes early?"
His voice comes crackly over the line. "Sho', it don't hurt ta be prepared. I'll be waitin'."
Deftly I dial in the commands, and watch the pressure levels drop in the near-empty chamber. "Y'alright?"
"Neva better."
Roki was tapping in something of her own. Crazy what technology could do nowadays. From the ship she overrides the access tests that Paul was "taking". Criminal fugitive wanted for lifting over 17,000,000 in various forms over the past four years? Nah, mild-mannered bank clerk from Sigma sector, says Roki.
"He's in," she reports.
"Hear that?" I relate to Lazer, "There's no stopping us now."
"That's what I like ta hear!"
"C'mon boys, I just said he's in. You can party when he comes back out." The artificial colors on her face shift. "Alright, your turn, Lazer. It's time."
"Let's rock!" comes the crackle.
I reach above me to flip some manual switches in the overhead panel. "Hold on tight, or else I'll be the last voice you'll ever hear."
"A horrible fate; I'll be careful." A pause. "Mag-field on."
That's what I need to hear. Another dialing of knobs and buttons, and the slight rumble different from the vibrations from the other ship's engines mark the opening of the bay doors. A glance to the readings and I know Lazer is out.
"He's good." Roki's fingers fly precisely over the panel.
"They can't see ya," I tell the space-man. "And you've got one minute."
"Good news and even better news, eh?" Then the line is silent.
"We wait?" I turn to Roki, who has leaned back in her chair, tucking her hands behind her head.
"We wait." She agrees.
If I look at the logs I can tell you how long we waited, but there, in the moment, it seems forever. Then a minute is past, and Lazer's voice crackles in my ear.
"Shut the doors, it's cold out here." But he sounds like he likes it, which he does.
Going for the commands, I ask, "Go alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, not a hitch. They'll be messed up for weeks." Re-pressurizing is relatively quick, and soon he is climbing into the main area from the hatch. The helmet is off, and the rest of the suit follows in no time.
"Enjoy yourself out there?" Roki asks.
"It's a bloody head rush, that is." He goes to his seat and swivels. "How's Mr. Fancy doin'?"
Roki's gone back to her board. "You can ask him yourself. He's coming back in the PPL now."
Us men turn towards said hatch just in time to see a ragged looking bank clerk scramble in and lock up the door behind him. His face, when it turns to us, shines in the way it only does after we pull off a heist. But we're not quite done yet.
"Welcome back, the crew hopes you had a pleasant stay aboard the Luxory, but now I'd like to inform you that launch will necessarily take place at unprecedented speed. It is advised that all passengers take their seats until the vessel is stabilized. Thank you, and have a nice day."
Roki's calm, satirical voice has understated the truth of the matter. Normal launches can take up to 30 minutes to checkmark all the safety regulations, and ours just now has completed in the time it took her to finish her little message. My life is fun.
We now rocket away into the void, with all the speed we can drum up from a dead stop. I know that bomb well, and have made it clear the importance of being as far away as soon as possible.
"You sure you had no problems?"
"Yeah! I said I was sho', and I'm sho'."
"Great, I go through all that trouble to swipe a small fortune and now we're all gonna be incinerated anyway. I shoulda expected it from you guys." Paul's stiff tie and coat are piled on the floor along with Lazer's space suit. The case he grips in his right hand.
Then it comes, the only sign we have of our ultimate victory. The shock wave rocks us in our path, a brief, violent earthquake impossible in space, then only the shaking of the engines straining to outdo themselves.
We all grin at each other. Paul rises and stretches, as if he might have just woken from a lazy nap. His hand still tightly wrapped around the handle of the briefcase, he strolls to the back to lock it up.
Roki bends over her console, plotting us a safe and fast getaway. For her, the work is never done. No amount of coaxing will drag her away to join in our eventual partying she so accurately prophesized. It's just her way.
I nod to Lazer as he also rises, kicking at the discarded garments on the cabin floor. He comes by me, patting me on the shoulder in his comradic way as he passes. Then his long legs take him out of sight as well, probably to dig out whatever intoxicants he has stowed away.
The team has slowly broken down into its individual elements. The mission is a success.
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