“Good luck, luv,” Luthy called after the departing OB1. OB1 glanced back and winked in reply as she glided her way out the door.

Now she was alone, Luthy thought to herself. Steadily, in spite of her training, fresh doubts crept into her mind as she stared at the blank screen before her. Instead of thinking about the next phase of the plan, Luthy dwelled on her failure to crack the code and gain access to the room. It was only through luck, and a fatal mistake by the security chief, that they’d gotten this far.

A memory flashed across her consciousness: she sitting painfully, awkwardly, on her backside with Feld smiling, standing over her in the Barscape’s training room, his bo stick resting with disguised ease on his shoulder. “As Napoleon Bonaparte once said, ‘I’d rather be lucky than good.’”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Luthy had replied a little too angrily, “Napoleon said no such thing.”

He’d shrugged then. “Perhaps not,” he’d conceded, the smile morphing into introspection as was his way, “but luck springs as much from talent and practice as from fate. We do, and sometimes we’re blessed beyond our capabilities. And when it happens, we should just say a quick thank you to whoever controls the fates and move on and just keep on doing. Some things just can’t be explained.”

With a sigh and a quick shake of her head, Luthy launched herself into the next phase of the operation. After quickly keying a few commands and donning the console’s sensor gloves, a layered, three dimensional hologram of the ship’s communications grid appeared before her.

It was alive, or would appear to be from a distance, but Luthy’s keen mind quickly picked up the methods behind the madness. Staring without focusing, her gloved hands at the ready, Luthy immersed herself into the model and began to bend it to her will. The effort was immense, but the effects, unbeknownst to her, were immediate.

~/~

“SecCentral, this is Security Officer Palleck. We have a code black on Maintenance Level 3. Repeat. This is Security Officer Palleck. We have a code black on Maintenance Level 3. Come in, Central.”

“Any word, Nin?” Razi asked as her troop fired another volley into the maintenance bay.

“No. Comms seem to be ok, but nobody’s picking up.”

~/~

Budo and Issabella sat on the floor with their backs against the hullcrawler. As numerous energy bolts sizzled the air above their heads, or shook their makeshift cover, Issa gripped her blaster pistol with both hands and stole a glance at the blood-spattered robot who sat beside her calmly wiping blood and gore from her blade.

“I distinctly remember saying to you, ‘Let’s go around. We don’t have to kill everybody to get what we need.’, Issa chided her guardian. “But no, you had to go charging in.”

Budo tsked her quiet as a direct hit shook and further damaged the hullcrawler. “Can’t you see that they’re nervous?”

“They’re not the only ones!” Issa said a bit too loudly.

“Shush. Nervous enemies make mistakes. Even now, they’re wasting their shots. All that energy is being used up to no good end. If they keep this up, I’ll be able to take them all out.”

“When?” asked Issa sarcastically. “Tomorrow morning? We need to move quickly, not hide behind maintenance equipment.” Issa paused as she considered recent events. “Why don’t you just admit it?”

Budo turned to her with her dangerously blue eyes. “Admit what?”

Issa suddenly smiled as an energy bolt shot overhead into the bulkhead beyond. “You got surprised! You didn’t think there were that many security people there, did you? Tactical retrograde maneuver, my ass! I should have known. In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you run so quickly.”

Budo’s eyes faded to their normal luminosity as her cheeks flushed a bright crimson. “Hey, cut me some slack. Remember Napoleon’s Maxim: I’m a lover not a fighter.”

“Hey! Stop stealing my material. I should charge you royalties for ev-” Issa cut her words short as a sickeningly familiar sensation washed over her. Death, heavily scented and syrupy, entered the maintenance bay. The pheromone sense, modified by the gender change, hurled her forward to the deck. On all fours, she retched violently, the blaster skittering away.

“Issa?!” Budo asked. Clutching her katana and filled with a new urgency, Budo moved to charge their attackers.

Issa’s moist hand darted out and stopped her. “Wait! Lucretia.”

“Lucretia?”

In a lengthy instant, the laser shots that filled the air were replaced by the screams of the dying. Moments later, Lucretia’s white noise form stood before them. After Issa rolled to her side and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, she said, “Lucretia. Fancy meeting you here. Anything we can help you with?”

“Yes,” came the simple response. “You need to follow me and now.”