Milo woke from where he had collapsed in a chair by his workbench. After the talk with Wally about buying Section E, his anxiety had pushed him further and further into a state of hyper-focus, and other problems had vied for his attention. He was worried about Belinda, and that pushed him to begin working on contingency plans for several possible scenarios. One of those was nearly finished; the fabricator working on the last of the pieces needed for it. Milo had spent sixteen hours straight designing the fully enclosed suit that he hoped would give her full control of her arms and legs. It was built on the design of his own suit but without claws, bulletproofing, and advanced stealth capabilities. Instead, the small pack on the back held the medical analyzers that worked in a similar way to her pod. The suit would take constant medical readings and adjust the floor of drugs and nutrients to her system. Without knowing exactly what was wrong with her, he'd gone with a more generic approach that had the versatility of a pod. After designing the system, he'd set up his fabricators to manufacture it, and he'd overseen the process, making adjustments as it progressed. Then he'd collapsed and slept for two hours, waking up exhausted.

His own suit was screaming that he was dehydrated and needed food. It also wanted to flush his system to deal with built-up fatigue toxins, and it highly suggested running to the toilet before his bladder exploded. Milo trusted his technology and stumbled to the small toilet in his home, afterward drinking a quart of water and allowing his suit to administer the drugs that would help him flush his system and get him feeling better. He would need to keep drinking and make frequent trips to the toilet for the next day. Awkward because he had plans for the next night cycle in the hab, but he didn't want to put things off for later. Too much was happening.

This was only confirmed as he scanned quickly through news articles that his system had tagged as something he needed to read. This is where he saw the announcement that Rhebus was taking over six of the sections in the habitat. He was initially annoyed, but as he read more and thought about it, he calmed down. He'd actually been the one to trigger this. Part of the announcement talked about the partnership with Claw Master and the synergies that the two corporations could generate by working together. He dug into the available data and published papers on their cloning techniques, and spent two hours on research. The published plans for the habitat sections looked good. They were talking about remaking the residential levels into apartments for patients and families, and the areas that had been designated as parks would finally see greenery and sun lamps installed. He was anxious to see their plans. If they had good ideas, he could steal them and duplicate the construction methods in his Section. Having taken a nap under a real tree, he'd never look at the Glowy Tree in the same way. He was very tempted to see what else Rhebus was planning to do in the hab but knew he didn't have time. They'd have decent security, and he didn't want to fall into a rabbit hole that stole a day. He had too much to do. He put that off for later.

Every thirty minutes, a timer reminded him to drink a quart of water and prepare for an infusion of vitamins and nutrients from his suit. He hadn't designed the suit to supply sustenance, only emergency treatments. The fact that the suit was in emergency mode was an indicator of how much energy he had put out in the last two days. He forced himself to skip a meal of cheese and eat the prescribed foods he had for just such an emergency. The flat, brown bars were crumbly and sweet, and he didn't like the taste, but they were loaded with the nutrients and calories he needed right now. When the time to leave had arrived, he was feeling better and ready to go. Tonight, he wanted to see what the hidden lab at Manpower kept in the secure storage area.

He was taking a good amount of diagnostics equipment with him and two of the smallest crawlers to haul it all. The locking mechanism was complex, needing several inputs at once. The first was a long strip of metal that acted like a key. Parts of its length would be magnetically charged to match the lock. After the key was inserted, a series of four different sixteen-digit codes had to be entered, followed by the palmprint of the person who went with that code and key. Finding a way through was going to take several nights. He had deep scanners that would slowly take a 'picture' of the mechanism beyond the keyhole and, using low amounts of energy, map out the configuration needed for the key. After that, he hoped the cameras he had left to observe would have captured someone using the keypad. Then he'd have to scour a lab and hope someone had failed to wipe fingerprints from the surfaces. If he could see who touched what, he could find the prints for the correct person. Enough partials, and he could create something the scanner would read correctly.

The problem with this type of vault lay in the failsafe. If the vault were breached by a cutting torch on its six-inch-thick titanium steel walls, an electromagnetic pulse would wipe the data stored on the discs inside. For transportation, the discs would be placed inside an outer shell, making them immune to an EMP. Milo needed what was inside and couldn't take a chance on destroying the data or being discovered. So, he was prepared to do things the hard way and take his time. Things didn't go as planned when he entered the crawl spaces leading away from his home. Rolling up to him were Max and his two escorts. The Roomba beeped quietly and started transmitting data showing it had mapped part of the habitat. At first, Milo was surprised and annoyed but remembered that Max wasn't running on his programs, just a set of instructions layered on top. The little machines' job was mapping, fixing, and keeping the floor clean. Milo filed an idea away for later that involved using a horde of Roomba to scout for problems in the ductwork and hallways. For now, he tested Max and his scouts by sending them ahead, watching where they went on his datapad, and seeing what data they reported back. Max proved to be far ahead of his previous drones in his ability to scout and his decision-making abilities. He needed to talk to Rusty about their programming. An hour later, they had arrived in the tunnels above the lab. Unfortunately, someone was there.

Dr. Samira Nihalia looked like she'd had a bad day and a worse evening. A half-empty bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and the remains of several limes and oranges testified to her attempt to self-medicate. She was drinking from a small beaker she'd taken from the lab and talking to someone on her computer, but her screen was empty, and the sound was routed to an earplug. All Milo could hear was her half of the conversation.

"This is insane, you know that?"

...

"Sure, more insane. I agree; it's been insane for a long time. It feels like three decades of bad science and watching our backs. What the hell happened to 'Change the world by making smarter people?'

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"Screw you! Yes, some of us did believe we were doing something good. If we could go public with half of our work, they'd be handing us Nobel Prizes. I'm pissed that the other half will get us tossed in prison for fifty years or a bullet in the brain...what? Of course I've been drinking. With what we're planning, you should be, too."

...

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"Yes, I know what I signed on for, but that was a long time ago. When the hell does this end?"

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"No! Shit!... Look, I'm just worried about how this goes down. Victor expects us to have her packaged in a pod and on a private jet to Eastern Europe with him and his goons. We've got a little time while they shuffle from country to country and set up the legal shit, but when that pod gets opened a week or a month later, even just a routine check, it will be immediately obvious that he stole an empty pod. I'm worried that they check on her when they land. We need more time than that. Look, they aren't defrosting her for at least a month; I want that whole month for us to get away clean."

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"By putting someone in Victor's pod. We nab a girl from the habitat the same size and age, shave her head, and put her in the pod. With the helmet and breathing mask and all the tubes, she'll look the same until she's brought out of the coma when they flush the drugs. It buys us time to get our little heiress to where she needs to be. We've already programmed the pod with the data to match Belinda's records, we just need someone to put in the pod."

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"Sure, I'll handle it. My plan, my problem. Thank you for being so much help, asshole. Don't screw up your end. Victor wants to leave in the next 24 to 48 hours. The second pod with its occupant will be ready to go. The data will be in the secure chest next to it. I'll take care of that in the morning when I can think straight."

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"That's changing the plan! Why do you want the data by tomorrow morning?"

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"Screw it. I'll get it done. I'm hanging up before you change things any further."

Milo wasn't happy with what he'd just heard. It forced him to make decisions with huge consequences, and he'd have to hurry. But he wanted to see what was in that vault!

Grumbling to herself and cursing her partner, Dr. Nihalia poured herself another shot of vodka, spilling more on the floor than got into the beaker, downed it, then threw the glass at the wall. It bounced off, and she complained for a moment about needing proper glasses, not shatter-proof labware to drink out of. She stood and walked unsteadily to the vault, patting at her pockets and finally finding a long, thin strip of metal that she inserted. The first light turned green. Staring at the keypad, she scratched her head and then went to her desk, taking out a book and turning to a page in the middle. "Why the hell does this shit have to be so complicated?" Punching in the codes, the second light turned green, and then a third as she put her hand on the palm reader. The large bolts pulled aside, and the vault stood open.

Milo used one of his cameras to get a good view of the interior. There were dozens of the 6" by 2" drives resting in slots on the wall. Several travel cases were stacked in the corner, as well as cases of blank drives. Somewhat carefully, she selected a dozen drives from the rack, loaded them in their protective covers, and placed them in the travel case. She snapped it shut, locking it with the magnetic key. Before she left, she set a timer and pulled down a large switch that was also locked with the key. Milo knew what it was. When that timer went off, the fail-safe would destroy the remaining data.

Milo watched as the good doctor walked to the door of the hidden lab, slipped on the patch of spilled vodka, and fell, slamming her head against a table. She didn't move as she lay on the floor. Milo dropped from the ceiling and checked her pulse; it was weak, but she was alive. And she wasn't his problem. Belinda was the person he needed to save, and from this woman and her partners. After a quick look inside her computer confirmed his guess that it was one of the other doctors caring for Belinda, he sent the entire storage contents to his system, took the key, and moved the case to his crawler. He had what he'd come for. Still, he hesitated as thoughts chased through his head. Then he went back again.

A half-hour later, no discs were remaining in the vault. A packed case with a dozen blank discs was sitting where the original case had been. He didn't know if anyone else had a key and codes, but it didn't matter. From the inside and having access to a key, old codes, and palm print, he had recoded the door to open to a new sequence, and his palmprint only. He had a long conversation with Max and his partners about moving the crawlers and their loads back to the elevator. The little scout showed him a route that took it all the way there using only small ducts. They would wait near the elevator, hidden from all eyes.

Milo's night was only starting.