The bartender slid a half-full tumbler towards the leggy blonde. "Here. One Old-Fashioned."

Zara Spencer smiled, her face dimpling in a most adorable yet calculated manner. She wore a blue knit dress which stretched over her toned body in a similarly calculated way. "You're the best, Tommy. Mind putting this one on my tab?"

Tommy's lined face settled into a sour frown. "Your tab is getting up there. I will need some cash."

The blonde smiled wider. "Just this one, then. I've got a sure thing comin' in any day now. Pleeease?"

He huffed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. This one and no more."

The woman's obsequious grin settled into a smug smile as Tommy turned away and headed for the other end of the bar. Her grin fell away as she felt somebody settle onto the barstool next to her. Without turning her head, she knew that the newcomer was big and male. There were plenty of empty stools along the bar, and yet he'd chosen to sit right next to her. She sighed and waited for the inevitable come-on line.

Non come-on was forthcoming, so she took a sip of her drink while her mind worked furiously. Her worrying turned the once-flavorful cocktail into ash in her mouth. If this wasn't a seduction attempt...maybe it was an old enemy? She glanced to her side, seeing nothing but a shaved head and a muscular arm signaling to Tommy.

She'd lasted a long time in a risky profession by remembering the smallest details. And now Zara realized she knew the owner of that head, even though she couldn't see his face.

"The fuck are you doing here?" she hissed.

Oscar turned to her and smiled. "Hey, Zara. I see ya moved on from gin-and-tonics, eh?"

Zara opened her mouth, then closed it again as Tommy came hustling back. "What can I get you?" asked the bartender.

"Beer and a shot of bourbon, please," replied Oscar. He nodded towards Zara. "And I'll pay for her drink as well."

Benny raised an eyebrow and grinned at Zara. "New friend of yours?"

"An old acquaintance," she said, making a conscious effort to un-clench her teeth. "Haven't seen him in ages."

Oscar waited until he had his drinks in front of him as well as a definitely-departed Tommy before speaking again. "How's life?"

She gave a shrug that somehow looked more elegant than a curtsy before the Queen. "Eh, makin' a living. You here to catch up on old times? Run out of beach bunnies to seduce?"

"Nah, I'm married...or near as dammit by this point."

Zara raised both eyebrows. "Reaaallly," she drawled. "She must be one hell of a woman."

"You better believe it. Got anything in play?"

"A millionare who thinks he knows how to pick ponies. Got another who fancies herself a commodities broker. I figure I can milk a couple million out of 'em before they wise up."

"I'll pay you ten times that. Half up front. Team effort, single target, very high security."

She took a sip of her drink, and it no longer tasted like ashy failure. "That's a generous sum, even for a high-sec retrieval. What's the catch?"

"Short term. Less than a month prep."

"Fuuuuuck that noise."

"The Senate will owe you a very big favor."

That made her pause for a while. "Go on."

"That's all I can say for now, until I know you're in."

She glowered at her own image in the mirror behind the bar, unwilling to meet Oscar's eyes.

"I need a world-class Face, Zara. Rory's already on board."

Zara gave a low, cynical laugh. "Of course he is. That shaggy doof never had two coins to rub together." She sighed. "But I gotta say...I do miss his ugly mug. And your jobs were never, ever boring. Fuck it, I'm in."

Martin stormed into the Tank and shut its door. One couldn't really 'slam' the aforementioned door thanks to its substantial weight, but he gave it the old college try. "Is this really necessary?" he demanded of the secure room's only other occupant.

Heidemann sighed. "You know, there's being a cowboy and being monumentally reckless. Why didn't you get permission for GIDEON MARKDOWN?"

Martin snorted. "Because I knew I'd never get it. The higher-ups are too worried about treading on the xenos' feet. Has somebody complained?"

"You might say that," said Heidemann. "The powers that be received a very excited phone call from one Mr. Antal Soma on Zephyr Station Ten. Seems he had a visit by Commander Maksimov."

"Ah."

"Yes, 'Ah'. Our unpleasant Russian had a companion, a Dorarizin who somehow managed to get into one of the most heavily-secure areas of any Zephyr Station without getting herself filled full of holes." Heidemann leaned back in his chair. "As you can imagine, this has caused a bit of a stir."

Martin started pacing, his mind working over all the angles. "Let me guess. They demanded we hand the Egg back."

"No, they wanted to offer you a back-rub. OF COURSE they want it back!"

"Absolutely not," replied Martin. "We need this. They're not using this tech, why kick up such a fuss?"

Heidemann leaned forward and set his elbows on the room's single table. He massaged his temples as he spoke in a defeated tone. "Because the last time they gave us some 'obsolete' technology it caused huge societal dislocations that we're still cleaning up after. Where is the Egg?"

Martin stopped his pacing and stared steadily at Heidemann. "Are you taking their side?"

"I'm on humanity's side."

"Bullshit. Don't go all wobbly on me."

Heidemann lunged to his feet. "DAMMIT, Martin! This isn't about 'wobbly', it's about common goddamn sense!"

Martin crossed his arms and said nothing.

"I know how fragile our situation is. I know you want to change that. But pulling an op like this only breeds mistrust." Heidemann spread his hands pleadingly. "Do you really want every human off-planet put under tight surveillance? Because the Senate could do just that. They have the resources. Is that really worth us getting some obsolete super-soldier tech?"

"Did you see the feeds from Atlanta?" Martin's lips peeled back in a snarl. "I sure as shit did, in real time. One Karnakian without power armor managed to rip a man's arms clean off. We nearly wound up with Armageddon because of that."

"The Karnakians managed to stop the nukes..." began Heidemann.

Martin slammed his palm down onto the tabletop. "That is irrelevant! The Karnakians set off the Dead Hand in the first place! I will NOT allow our species' survival to hinge on the charity of others!"

Heidemann's shoulders slumped. "One more time, Martin. Where's the Egg?"

"You'll never know." Martin jerked his head up towards the ceiling. "They'll never know. If they try to pressure me or my people, I have plenty of compromising files in my personal stash that will quickly become public." Martin pointed a steady finger at Heidemann. "That goes for you too."

He spun and headed for the door, only to be stopped by a statement from Heidemann. "Martin. If you go through with this, even if you succeed in reverse-engineering the Egg...there will be hell to pay."

"So be it," replied Martin. "At least I'm not giving up on my species' future due to political bullshit."

This time he managed to slam the door on the way out of the Tank.

Valentin walked around a polymer composite crate; the container happened to be just a little bigger than average-Karnakian-sized. "This seems too easy."

The Silken Feather paced behind him, looking over her future 'lodgings' with a similarly critical eye. "[Looks are deceiving. There's a lot of shielding built into this crate. It should pass through normal scans with no problem.]"

The Commander cocked an eye behind him at the Karnakian. "And if somebody opens the crate during a routine inspection?"

"[That's what hard-light holograms are for,]" replied the thief. "[Don't worry, I've done this plenty of times, into places with much tighter security.]"

Valentin stopped his circuit and crossed his arms. He let out a Slavic grumble. "Hrmmm, if you say so. Just remember, you get found and our whole plan goes down the..." He stiffened and trailed off as a set of claws settled onto his head. The claws began to gently comb through his scalp. While the sensation felt nice, those claws were also attached to a giant sapient carnivore. One with lots and lots of teeth. "Um..."

The Silken Feather snatched her hand back. "Oh. Oh! Sorry. It was just instinct, I swear!"

Valentin waved her off. "No problem. I suppose we are ready, da?"

She nodded with typical Karnakian enthusiasm and trotted off. Valentin watched her go, rubbing his freshly-petted head as he put two and two together. Then he stomped off to hunt down the damned Amerikosy.

Oscar walked towards the Claw's hangar, clipboard in hand as he went through what he figured he'd need for the upcoming operation. To any onlooker, the actual list would read more like grocery shopping, with lots of references to various types of onions and breads. It was all code for more nefarious items, just in case a certain Veridicator happened to peer over his shoulder.

A stubby finger thumped into his chest, stopping his forward momentum. Oscar looked up in surprise into Valentin's unsmiling face.

"How long have you known?" demanded the Russian.

"What?"

"The aliens. First that Dorarizin treating me like a pup, then me getting groomed by that idiot Karnakain. I'm not stupid." He leaned forward, staring daggers up at Oscar. "They find us...milyy."

Oscar thought about denying it for about two seconds. But Valentin was no idiot. "Yeah. They do."

"Fuck." Valentin turned away and glared at the corridor's wall as if daring the composite material to find any humor in humanity's current situation. Finally he gave one brief snort of laughter. "Eh, suppose it could be worse."

Oscar walked into the warehouse and set down his backpack on a large table in the center of the expanse. Rory walked up beside him and plonked a battered valise onto the same table. The slight-of-hand artist wore a parka that added to his already substantial bulk.

"Where's our other compatriots?" asked Rory. "Or are you planning on me 'n Zara doing this all by our lonesome?"

Zara sashayed up beside him. Her parka was just as functional as the other two, but somehow she made it look like she was stepping down the center catwalk right in the midst of Paris Fashion Week. She set her own much more small and elegant bag next to Rory's.

"Now why would you think we'd need anybody else?" she purred.

Rory rolled his eyes. "Let's see ya try to seduce a CCTV system."

"The others on their way," said Oscar. He looked up at the big crate which sat ten feet away from the table. "One of 'em's here already."

A side-door opened, admitting a drift of blowing snow. Valentin entered, wrapped in a heavy parka. Two figures walked in behind him. They were even more swaddled in winter clothing, complete with goggles obscuring their eyes.

"Reminds me of summer!" called out the Russian. He had a big challenging grin on his face.

Oscar rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, Russians aren't bothered with cold. Who are your partners here...?" Oscar trailed off as both of Valentin's companions removed their goggles. Two pairs of brown and definitely female eyes stared unamused back at Oscar and the other two humans.

Valentin kicked the snow off of his boots. "Don't know their names."

Rory glared at the Russian. "What is this, amateur hour? You plaster some signs on a lamppost or something?"

The Commander grinned wider. "Not to worry!" As he spoke, the two newcomers began unwinding their scarves and throwing back their hoods. Just from viewing their faces, Oscar had to admit that they were both very fine examples of Slavic femininity.

"Don't know names, but know them well," said Valentin. "For job like this, could not ask for better." He waved a hand at one of the women, a brunette. "This is Thing One." Another wave at the other woman, a sandy blonde. "This is Thing Two."

Oscar snorted. "Yer shittin' me."

"We are not shitting you," said Thing One. Her voice was a lovely soprano, but her face was set in a serious frown.

"Nobody knows our names," added Thing Two. Her voice was lower and smokier than her compatriot. She pointed her chin at Valentin. "Not even him."

Zara's mouth curled up in a slight smile. "Hmm...I can see how that would be valuable."

Thing Two met her eyes and smiled just as slightly back.

Rory pulled his valise back off of the table. "Right! Oscar, it was good to see you again but next time leave me out of your half-assed bullshit, okay?" He turned to leave.

"If you leave, you don't get paid," said Oscar.

The shaggy man stopped in mid-stride. "Money does me no good if I'm warming a jail-cell bunk with my ass."

"Not to worry!" said Valentin. "Thing One is best scrounger on planet. IDs, vehicles, you name it she can get it. Thing Two is best sneaker I've ever known. A true ghost."

Rory sighed and walked back to the table, thumping his suitcase back onto its surface. "All right. I'll withdraw my objections for the moment." He raised one bushy eyebrow at Thing One. "I do expect to challenge your collection capabilities in the near future."

"Bring it," replied Thing One.

Zara tapped a finger on her chin. "We may be light on direct technical expertise. Unless our formidable-looking Russian here is taking that role?"

Valentin shook his head. "No, that's a job for our final team member." He nodded over at the crate. "We should introduce her."

"Yep." Oscar set out four earbeads onto the table. "You'll all need these."

Zara regarded the translator devices with suspicion. "Why?"

In response, Valentin walked over to the crate and tapped a few buttons on its keypad. One side of the crate cracked open with a hiss, then slid aside. Inside was neat stacks of freeze-dried food...stacks that shimmered as a huge, clawed foot pushed its way through the illusion. As the foot settled down onto the warehouse floor the 'food' vanished to reveal The Silken Feather.

The dyed-blue Karnakian pulled herself out of the crate and stretched, resulting in an audible series of pops from her spine. She grinned down at Valentin. "[You see? A, how you say...piece of cake!]" She looked up at the humans ranged around her in evident delight. "[Hello, everyone! I'm ever so glad to make your acquaintance!]"

Thing One, Thing Two, Zara, and Rory stared in disbelief at the very obvious and oh sweet Baby Jesus so very illegal Earth-trespasser who stood before them.

Rory spun on his heels and screamed right into Oscar's ear. "ARE YOU. FUCKING. KIDDING. ME?!"

After a lot more soothing of frayed nerves (helped along with reminders of just how much they were all earning), the team arranged themselves around the table. Both of the Things and Rory put themselves as far from the Karnakian as they could. Zara, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by the alien and stood right next to her.

Oscar unrolled a set of printouts in front of them all. "Until we can get a proper holographic display set up, these'll have to do." He placed a picture of the Egg on top of the stack. "This is the target. Very valuable, and that's all you need to know."

"I'm not an idiot," said Rory. "The Senate wants this thing, so either it's something we made that they decided we shouldn't have...or it's something of theirs we lifted. My money's on the latter."

"What money?" asked Zara with a grin.

Rory narrowed his eyes at her. "Maybe I should lift your makeup kit and replace it with a barrel of sludge."

"[This is very exciting!]" said the Silken Feather. "[I get to witness authentic [human] banter!]"

"Banter?" asked Rory in puzzlement. "Nah, Miz beauty queen here's just being a jerk."

"[Beauty?]" The Karnakian swooped her head down in front of Zara, staring right in her face with a big fanged smile and all four eyes open wide. "[Are you considered beautiful among [humans]?]"

Zara swallowed hard when she viewed aaall of those teeth. "Um, yes. Yes I, I am. Do you mind if I ask the same question of you?"

"[Not at all!]" The Silken Feather preened her crest back with one hand. "[Half of my exploits I achieved through appealing to my species'...baser instincts. Even in this ridiculous color, I could seduce most anyone I desired.]"

Oscar cleared his throat. "IF we could get on with the briefing? Y'all can speculate however you want, all you need to know is that when I get this thing in my hand y'all get your second half of your payments. So. Here's schematics of the facility, plus overhead views of the base."

Now that they had some hard data to look at, the group became all business as they pored over the prints.

"Seismic warning sensors," muttered Thing One. "Won't be able to dig our way in. Assuming Egg-thing is in this bottom storage room here?"

"That's the most logical place," replied Oscar. "But we're still gonna need to get eyes on it before final execution of any heist. We're also gonna need to put together a schedule for patrols, plus do a survey of the security systems to see if this intel is still fresh."

"What's the turnover like for the base personnel?" asked Rory.

Valentin waved a meaty hand, palm up. "Mostly high. The support staff tends to be replaced often. Lots of them go for the xeno placement program, and a lot of them succeed."

"That might work," mused Rory. "Me and one other, maybe Thing Two, if we get in as janitors that could allow us to do a goodly bit of recon."

"And what am I, chopped liver?" demanded Zara. She drew herself up and stared down haughtily at Rory.

"You also tend to stand out in a crowd," said Oscar. "We'll need you to work at getting us some proper base IDs so that we can duplicate 'em."

Thing One raised a hand. "Can I ask obvious question? Why don't we just use her?" She gestured at The Silken Feather. "She's alien. Got access to technology we can't even guess at. Our best computer security systems would be as joke."

The Silken Feather fidgeted her claws together. "[It's not quite that simple. Yes, human systems are easier to crack but that is not the same thing as easy. And my means are rather limited. I brought some...items with me,]" she gestured towards her crate, "[...but I should limit their use. If I'm caught with them I'll be in serious trouble. They're far to advanced to be used around [humans].]"

Thing Two snorted and spread her arms, indicating the entire warehouse. "You're standing on Earth! I'd say you're already in it up to your feathered neck!" She dropped her hands, grinning to take the sting out of her words. "Just like the rest of us."

The Silken Feather peered at Thing Two for a long moment, then gave a piping laugh. "[Exactly!]"

Rory crossed his arms and frowned. "If we need to, can we get more resources out of the Senate?"

Oscar shrugged. "Not exactly. This whole thing has to fall under 'plausible deniability'."

"And what about you and our Russian colleague here? Are you two just acting as bagmen?"

"We can't participate directly," said Valentin. "Our faces are too well known to the opposition."

The bear-like man grunted. "Then I guess we'll have to get creative." He reached forward and picked up the picture of the Egg and regarded it for a moment. He rolled it in between his thick palms, crumpling it into a loose ball. He held the paper ball up in between a thumb and forefinger. "See, this is the target. We want it, but they know we want it. We could try to steal it..." Rory cupped his other hand over the paper ball and lifted it away from its cradle. He held the grasped ball out in front of him and pointed his other index finger at it. "...but they'll be expecting anything obvious."

He opened the fist, revealing nothing but empty air.

The Silken Feather clapped her hands together. "[OOOH, I like it! I saw you do the drop, it's in the middle of your other hand!]"

Rory gave her an evil grin. "Are you sure?" He opened his other 'pointing' hand, displaying its palm to the Karnakian. She stared in amazement at his now very empty palm.

"See, misdirection is not distraction," Rory continued. His manner was like a professor lecturing a postgraduate class. "Distraction is making a ruckus somewhere over there while you pull off your sneaky stuff over here. That's amateur hour bullshit. True misdirection is all about putting the audience's attention exactly where you want it, when you want it."

"Should I check my pockets?" asked Oscar.

"You probably should," replied Rory with a smug smile.

Oscar did so and sure enough felt an unfamiliar lump in his pocket closest to Rory. He pulled it out to show the paper ball to others before un-crumpling it. It was, as expected, the by-now well-creased image of the Egg.

"That's very impressive, but what's your fuckin' point?" asked Zara. Her smile was now not quite so sardonic, and her eyebrow arched elegantly.

Rory smiled back. "I'm just saying we shouldn't dismiss any ideas out of hand. Now let's go through the security systems again..."

The watch leader straightened up as Martin strode into the facility's main control room. Both the watch leader and his subordinates looked out upon a multitude of monitors, each one showing a different angle of what appeared to be the same set of bland beige corridors.

"Er...sir?" the leader asked in a half-hearted challenge.

"Never mind that, you know who I am. Have you received any odd requests?"

"Odd, sir?"

Martin stopped in front of the much-taller man, his hands on his hips. "Don't make me ask again."

The leader rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we did receive a request to account for any nonstandard items in our inventory."

"And what did you tell them?"

"Nothing."

Martin avoided sagging in relief. "You acted correctly, of course. It's a standard test." He reached up and patted the man on his shoulder, turning away to regard the sea of similar hallways on the displays.

Behind his pleased exterior his guts churned. It couldn't be coincidence; if Commander Maksimov was last seen in Earth orbit, then Oscar couldn't be far behind. Martin knew his former protégé was somebody he couldn't dare underestimate. The only silver lining in this whole affair was that the Senate couldn't move openly against Martin; they'd want to keep things secret, which meant he'd have the advantage.

An advantage on paper, at least. Martin held no illusions about Oscar. The man had thrown his lot and his life in with the very xenos he'd been sent to investigate, in the worst case of Stockholm Syndrome that Martin had ever seen. If possible, the traitorous bastard would try to stage some sort of break-in to steal the Egg back.

Martin's eyes flicked back and forth ceaselessly over the monitors. "Where are you?" he murmured. "I know you're out there..."