on_her_korhal | Archives Under Felton Street, London, Friday Evening

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Archives Under Felton Street, London, Friday Evening

Getting to the building had been the easy part. Getting into the building had been slightly harder, but not impossible. Offices. They were all the same, really, after a while.

The true test was coming up just ahead, though, and Kerrigan's pulse was racing in ways she'd be loathe to admit were comfortably familiar. Adrenaline. Anticipation. The whole damn nine yards that had kept her existence going back in the days when she had orders, not friends.

The lock would be a piece of cake with the aid of their guest.

The rest-- well. Her hand hovered over the stealth button on her suit. Her armor pulsed like it had a life of its own. "It's your turn. This once. And then it's on me."

Whether she was referring to the politician or the cowering mess was left, mostly, in the middle.

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Harriet nodded, greatly impressed, not that she let it show. "All right, Alex. This will be easy. Access pass and security clearance, thank you, and then retinal scan."

Alex glanced at her and nodded, leaning forward to swipe the card. As soon as his fingers touched the key pad, Harriet added, "And not the emergency code, thank you. I used to be Prime Minister. I know what it is."

He wilted, moved his fingers, punched in a seven digit code, then stepped forward into the red laser.

There was a polite click and tiny clunk, and Harriet nodded. "Unlocked. Excellent job," Harriet told him. "And we won't be needing you any longer. Lieutenant, if you'd care to do the honours?"

She smiled. It was positively shining-- her eyes were picking up that alive gleam for the first time in months.

Three quick blows, and Alex went sinking down to the ground. She didn't even look at him as she passed through the door. "By the time he's back, we'll be out of here. I go first. You follow on my mark. Clear?"

"Absolutely clear, yes." She gave Kerrigan a brisk nod. "I know when to follow orders and not give them. Lead the way."

That-- didn't even deserve a curt nod. She was in control. Her hands drifted over the button again, and this time, she didn't falter-- one smash of it, and Kerrigan's entire form rippled blue for an instant before fading entirely into nothingness.

The only thing left, should one have known exactly where she was prior to going invisible, was a slight edge of static, humming in the air.

And then she was on the move, sliding fast through the hallway. T-intersection. Two guards on one side...

Harriet followed, trying to keep up, expression set in grim lines, because much as she hated to admit, she was getting old.

But she wasn't thinking about that. She wasn't thinking about the fact that they were breaking into an organisation for which she used to be responsible. All she was thinking about was that this was where they might find an answer to how to bring them back.

Well, that, and how extremely pleased she was that Kerrigan was on her side, at least for the time being.

Edited 2008-03-14 20:26 (UTC)

"Stay," Kerrigan hissed-- end of corridor, two guards one side, other side--

Not an option.

She dodged sideways quietly, fast enough to vanish from sight entirely-- and then one guard smashed against the floor, sending noise skittering through hall.

The second guard tried to react-- the next moment, an image flashed-- of Kerrigan, foot first, kicking the next one so harshly in the neck that he went down without being able to lift his weapon.

She touched on the floor, then faded again. "Mark."

And Harriet moved, not staring open mouthed, because that simply wasn't done, but she was impressed. Very impressed.

She hit her mark and stood neatly, hands tucked behind her back.

She narrowed her eyes, her mind reaching out to find-- noise. Very far up ahead. "Five, scattered across the hallways. Might not be an issue."

And then Kerrigan was on the move again, smoothly pulling the canister rifle from her back like an ancient weapon. More of an empty hallway. But-- doors. She let her mind waft out towards Harriet, keeping a dead lock on any information she may hold about the compound at all--

And that of the guards up ahead.

Pacing, pacing, pacing like a wild animal down, her eyes flicked past grates and walls for anything unusual. Security, dead-ends...

Her eyes narrowed. This was not the arrangement she'd put in place.

Trust them to have changed it. More guards, but it looked as if there were less automated security features.

Foolish of them, but it was certainly to her benefit, now.

"So how are you on casualties?" Kerrigan asked, a tinge of the rhetorical to her voice as she shifted momentarily back into visual, motioning for Harriet to approach.

She pressed her back against the wall of the next corner, counting the steps required.

Might have to settle for some grate work. Might.

"No deaths. They are only doing their jobs." She was only short because she was short of breath. "Minimal injuries if you can manage it."

"Trust you to make it hard on me," she replied, an odd blend of manic strain to her voice. Then she shoved the visor over her eyes, and the blue rippled across her again. "Four." Seconds, that was.

Thoughts-- armed door up ahead-- someone close-- And she was around the corner, snapping the lone guard unconscious with the butt of her gun before dropping to her knees.

Grates. It was always grates. A spark of blue telekinesis and it came off the wall-- clear path of view until the next one.

"Thank you," Harriet said as she came up behind her. "Through, do you think? It's changed since I was last here."

And she muttered something very impolite about why on earth would they install grates, of all things.

Edited 2008-03-14 20:54 (UTC)

"That's a question that won't be thought about for a long time," Kerrigan gritted, "Security door up ahead. We can't advance through there. So I'm hoping those knees of yours will hold."

Hers did. Easily. No guards on the other side. That should get them a clear path to--

Whatever it was that laid at the center of this facility.

Edited 2008-03-14 20:56 (UTC)

Her knees held. Sadly, she landed on them, but she shook it off and pulled herself to her feet. "Well, that was pleasant."

Dead line down to the big door. Couldn't be that easy. She adjusted her visor, shifting back to readiness. "You get used to it."

"There isn't another option," she said, standing straight and looking to Kerrigan. "The archive is behind that door. That at, least, can't have changed."

"Let's hope so," Kerrigan simply commented. She shifted back, her body becoming visible once more, but her eyes-- as she pulled the visor back up -- were supremely alert. She stalked carefully down that hallway, one pace at a time, keeping Harriet behind her.

A place she was surprisingly happy to be. "The archives are a cave, naturally occurring. It's where the paranormal team worked during the Blitz. Trust me, the only change might be the decor."

Again-- "I hope so."

And then she was at the door.

Nothing happened.

Her eyes flicked from side to side.

"Your honours..."

Harriet inclined her head graciously and keyed in the sequence to open the door - it was still the same; it would always be the same; they'd long since lost the technology to reprogram it - and stepped into the archives.

It was just as she remembered it, the one time she'd been here - six days after she'd become Prime Minister.

She reached out and turned on the light, flooding the room with a golden light. The ceiling high above was natural rock, the lights suspended below.

Two computers, sleek and looking as if the could exceed light speed, rested on an antique table, and shelves wrapped themselves around the walls, filled with books and boxes and secured containers.

"Exactly the same," she said, moving to the computers. They were the key, a high tech Rosetta stone that would solve the puzzle of how to get her people back from the past.

Or so she hoped.

Slowly, carefully, and eternally watchfully-- thrumming with energy, in that vivid way that only happened in the middle of this-- Kerrigan made her own way across the room, her fingers clenching quietly against her C-10.

When she was-- to some degree-- certain that the room was safe, she appeared, almost like the ghost that was her unit type's namesake, over Harriet's shoulder. "Getting what we need?"

Harriet cracked her knuckles as she sat down, which she regretted, and touched the screen to bring it to life. "One of the unique things about the archive is its security system. Its based on alien technology that was salvaged by Torchwood London somewhere along the line."

She was typing neatly while she spoke. "Unfortunately, they didn't know how to use it." The screen flashed once, then brought up a search screen, and Harriet kept typing. "Every password and security access code they created, stays. They can't delete them. They really weren't very competent."

"I can tell," she replied, dryly. She was going over her own knuckles now, carefully expecting any damage. None at all.

"Very well."

Kerrigan let go of her grip on the rifle, her breathing slowing slightly. "So what are we looking for?" Pause. "You think they've got that?"

"The archive has every scrap of information, every piece of technology, some alien, some not, that the British Government could scavenge." She glanced at Kerrigan over her shoulder. "We have definite magpie tendencies," she added as she returned to typing, quickly and efficiently bring up a list, and starting to eliminate items from it.

"We have people as far back as 1899. We need some way to bring them safely through to 2008, that doesn't involve them being one hundred and nine years older. And these," another quick tap of keys, and a hidden printer coughed once, and spat out a piece of paper, "are possibilities to check."

She stood and ripped it in half, offering a piece to Kerrigan.

A crap of a list. Great.

There went the good part of this mission. Somewhat as a nervous move, Kerrigan pushed her visor further up on her head as she took the list, her eyes skimming over it at some speed.

"Magpie is one way of putting it," she said, and whistled low.

"There was a reason the British Empire once controlled a large part of this planet," she said, eyeing the shelves. "Right. We're wasting time."

And she headed off, climbing the stairs to the upper row and beginning her search.

Kerrigan shook her head once. "Great. Now I'm a research monkey."

And then she was after Harriet, climbing the stairs with nimble grace. She got to work.

Grouchingly so.

Three hours later, Harriet was feeling grouchy herself. And sore, her knees aching from their earlier brief introduction to the ground.

"Right," she muttered, "What's next. Item 96-ATX-a1. They couldn't have given it a name?"

It was on the bottom shelf on the lower floor, and she surrendered dignity completely and sat on the floor to struggle with the box. "Hartdegen Dossier, dated 1906. That does not sound promising."

But she opened it and began to read. And kept reading. And finally called out, "Lieutenant?" in a voice that shook only a little.

Edited 2008-03-14 22:08 (UTC)

"Yeah?"

A few floors up, Kerrigan was about to put her own head through one of the shelves. She figured it wouldn't just make her feel better, it'd be more effective, to--

But at that, she was down a few flights of stairs and at Harriet's side, the picture of professionalism. "Did you find it?" Whatever 'it' was.

"I think I might have." Her voice sounded odd, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was reading. "It turns out this Alexander Hartdegen built a time machine, back in the end of the nineteenth century. He destroyed it, but--"

She looked up and fumbled in the box, drawing out several rolls of thin paper, which resembled parchment more than they did modern paper.

"--Apparently he did so with the intention of turning into something else. Of turning it into...I have no idea. There isn't enough detail here."

"I know those calculations."

Kerrigan was squatting before Harriet could as much as give a response. "It's crude," she continued. "Very, very crude. Christ. It's a miracle anyone could work with anything in this time period..."

Harriet unrolled the plans, for such was what the paper proved to be, frowning down at them, then at Kerrigan. "Tell me."

"Interstellar travel never goes as smoothly as the old sci-fi films would like you to believe," Kerrigan explained, sitting back on her haunches. "The longer the distance, the more likely it is you're going to have to put yourself on pause. Earth to Koprulu, for one, that's big..."

She glanced at the plans. "You need something that puts you on pause. A stasis machine. Like that."

"Dear god. A stasis machine." Harriet's mind was going a million miles a second. "Would it work? Could it work? Would it last to get them safely home?"

"Like I said, it's crude," Kerrigan continued, but she was shooting Harriet looks all the while. That kind of thinking just made her head hurt. "Theoretically, though-- yeah, it should work."

A decision had to be made. there could be something more useful here in the archives.

But they could spend the rest of their lives, looking for the slightly better option.

This should work. This would work. And she had a lot of practice making the hard decision.

"We're taking these," she said as she got awkwardly to her feet. "The dossier and the plans and we're going back to Fandom. Now."

"Sounds like a plan."

And like that, Kerrigan was back in Ghost mode, visor up to her eyes and sliding smoothly back down to the door.

It wouldn't take them long to break out of the facility.

Not long at all.

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Archives Under Felton Street, London, Friday Evening

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