Gerard, Ox, and Fishmonger searched the west wing and tore apart the living spaces. Fishmonger found something and yelled, and Gerard and Ox both came over to see him standing over a heavy metal trap door.
Gerard knelt and put a code into the keypad. It beeped angrily at her. “Drat, he’s changed the code.”
“I could crack it,” Fishmonger said. “There aren’t too many combinations.”
“He limits the number of times you can put in a code. Third incorrect entry seals the contents and invalidates the codes.”
“So what do we do?” Ox asked.
“We need to cut it open,” Gerard said.
Fishmonger smiled. A door in his thigh opened and a small metal holster came out holding a small precidian torch. He picked it up and playfully pushed the trigger, shooting out hot green flame with each press.
“Pyrite?” Gerard called on the comms. “You take out the alarms for the west wing yet?”
Pyrite came up for air from kissing Zweerga in the cab of the truck. “Oh yeah, totally,” he said.
Zweerga grabbed him by the shirt and pulled his face back toward hers.
Gerard nodded to Fishmonger. “Cut around the keypad starting from the upper right and moving down. Then do the downward stroke on the other side. That should sever the connections such that it can’t send the code to invalidate the cards.”
“You seem to know a lot about this particular model,” Fishmonger said.
“I’m a thief.”
“It’s custom built. The specs aren’t even on the net.”
“Just do it.”
Fishmonger did the parallel cuts as Gerard had indicated, then, at her further direction, cut the top and bottom. When he finished the cut, he took his metal foot and stomped precisely on the keypad. Air rushed in and an alarm rushed out as the keypad fell through.
Cy had hit the observatory with exploding force, wrecking most of the equipment. Luckily his slipstream ballistics suit had absorbed most of the energy and transferred it into a shockwave that blasted everything in the room and knocked over the guards who had been standing nearby. If Cy hadn’t had a small tank of air built into the suit, the vacuum the blast created would have killed him, Moorvat-engineered body or no Moorvat-engineered body.
Cy staggered to his feet and prepared himself. He pulled out his clubs and spun them around in his hands; they whizzed with anticipation. He turned toward Boss Clawf’s treasure room, where Clawf kept his money and most of his valuables that weren’t on display. Cy let out a battle cry and ran towards the guards.
To Be Continued…