The Aether-Spire was a shard of arrogant light stabbing into the Rust Belt's perpetual gloom. At 23:58, perched on a nearby rooftop, Nezra felt the synth-ale he'd nervously drunk earlier threaten to make a reappearance.
"In position," Rin's calm voice stated in his earpiece.
"Ghost feeds are live. The drones are dancing to my tune. Security is currently learning about paradigm-based initiative utilization. They are losing the will to live. We are a 'go'," Scarlet reported, her voice buzzing with glee.
"Showtime," Morgan said. "Rielle, let's give them a performance."
Nezra watched through a pair of macro-binoculars as Morgan and Rielle strode into the lavish lobby. What followed was less a distraction and more a masterpiece of chaotic theater. He couldn't hear the words, but he saw Rielle enthusiastically overturn a very expensive-looking decorative fountain. Morgan appeared to be accusing a massive, confused man of selling her a faulty starship. Security swarmed them.
It was beautiful.
"Comms are down," Rin reported. A moment later, fire alarms blared on the upper floors.
"Kara. Nezra. Go," Morgan's voice ordered, slightly muffled, as if she was currently arm-wrestling someone twice her size.
Kara tapped his shoulder. "Let's go, Nezra."
They moved. The service ducts were tight, dusty, and smelled of ozone and regret. They emerged onto the 45th floor, which was eerily silent, the only sound the distant blare of alarms from above.
"This way," Kara whispered, leading him to the vault door. She made quick work of the physical lock with her tools. The vault door itself was a intimidating circle of polished metal with a pulsating crystalline interface.
"Your turn," Kara said. "Just a steady stream. Don't force it. Think of it like… pouring water."
Nezra placed his hands on the crystal. It was warm. He reached for his orna, and as always, it responded like a tidal wave to a tap. The interface flared angry red. Alarms blared inside the room.
"Too much! You're trying to kill it! Gentle!" Kara hissed.
"I don't know how to be gentle!" he panicked.
"Think of something calm!" Scarlet's voice urged in his ear. "Think of… of fluffy cats! Sleeping puppies!"
"I'm from Zone Three, I've never seen a puppy!" he shot back, desperation rising.
"Ugh, fine! Think of me! How utterly, devastatingly brilliant and calm I am under pressure!"
Miraculously, the sheer absurdity worked. He focused, imagining a thin wire of energy. The red light flickered, stuttered, and then shifted to a steady, approving green. The door hissed open.
They were in. The cylinder was there, gleaming.
And then the ceiling opened, and the spider-like Volt-Golems dropped down.
"Scarlet! We have a problem!" Kara yelled.
"I see them! Oh, wow, they are not in the schematics. Someone paid for the premium security package."
"Not helpful!" Nezra yelped.
"Kara, your EMP charge!"
Kara slapped the disc on the lead golem. It sparked and died. The other three simply stepped over it.
"We're trapped!"
"Think, Nezra!" Kara shoved him toward a vent. "You're a problem-avoider! How do we avoid this?"
Nezra looked at the sprinklers on the ceiling. "Scarlet, can you make it rain?"
"I can make a monsoon!"
Water erupted from the sprinklers, drenching them and the golems. The advanced drones short-circuited a little, jerking and sparking pathetically.
"Now!" Kara yelled. They pried off the vent cover and scrambled into the duct, leaving the sputtering robots behind.
Crawling through the dark, damp duct, Nezra panted, "I can't believe that worked."
"This is a Tuesday," Kara replied, a laugh in her voice. "Just wait until you have to hide in a shipment of recycled protein paste."