37: Deva
Deva
Deva raced down the road that led to the gate, the one at the rear of Research. While security didn’t look tight around the fence, intel suggested the wire itself was rigged, would ping if it was tampered with. There were also, apparently, pressure pads and other goodies hidden in the wasteland around the fence.
She reached the guard post. She took a moment, bent over, catching her breath. The two guards watched and waited.
“Hey,” she said, straightening up and brushing hair from her eyes, “Sorry. Catching up with a friend, didn’t notice the time.” She flashed her eyes at the first guard.
He was old—about forty—and heavy-set. He wore a Preben in his belt, but he didn’t reach for it. He looked bored.
“Need to check ya,” he drawled, then nodded to his colleague.
She
