Uniform Stealing Board

(the translated version)

1
Alios Lnen walked slowly into the prison cell, his tall frame accentuated by a strict dark purple uniform with silver embroidery on the chest, which matched the others. The visitor carefully examined Kjelle, who was sitting silently on a cold plastic cot, against a wall painted a dirty ash color. In the standard, brown and baggy outfit, the woman still looked impressive. Even after her defeat, her posture remained straight, and her gaze was defiant. Kjelle tried to maintain physical fitness, persistently doing push-ups and the like, although she did not hope for a pardon.

Alios stopped at the threshold, clasping his hands behind his back. He was not surprised that the air was almost sterile, with only a slight chemical admixture - Lnen knew the local customs well.
The muscles of his arms and chest were visible even through the thick fabric of his service uniform, which did not escape Kjelle's attention.
"And who are you?" she snapped, turning her head only slightly in his direction.
The visitor was fair-skinned, like Kjelle, but the color of his hair and eyes gave him away as a native of Karst. “I wonder what wind brought this rare bird here,” the prisoner was surprised.

"Tol, the junior officer of Techno-Prime," he introduced himself briefly, stroking his chin overgrown with dark stubble. The visitor's voice was deep and calm, but noticeably harsh. — Had to wait a little while until you were released after another stint in the isolation ward. I came to tell you about... a certain opportunity.
Kjelle grinned, looking warily. She did not miss the way the visitor moved - he clearly had training similar to what she herself had before working with Karin and the others. This Alios looked to be about thirty.
"Opportunity? Well, yes, of course... not another deal in which I will be framed?"
Alios casually sat down on the metal chair opposite the woman, not taking his eyes off her.
"You are strong, stubborn and not afraid to take blows. That is exactly the kind of people we need on a team."
"Really?" She raised an eyebrow, not hiding her interest.
"I work as a security guard for one of the directors of Techno-Prime, Andronikos Vlandri. My job is to find and select suitable personnel, even in prisons. And I think you are suitable. I looked over some of the results of your examination here."
Kjelle, biting her lip, studied Lnen. There was no flattery in his words - only facts, it seemed. The woman had heard a few things about Techno-Prime - a large corporation that had been established five years ago and specializing in innovative electronics.
"And what do I get in return?" she asked finally.
"Freedom," he answered simply. "You can leave here in a few days. My superiors will approve your participation, and you will begin training. You will work in the team - officially, of course."
"And if I refuse?" she asked defiantly.
Alios grinned, but his eyes remained serious.
"Then you’ll stay here. At best, you’ll get out in… well, a couple of decades. At the very least. But let’s be honest: this isn’t where you belong."
He stood up, towering over her.
"Think about it. You have until the morning, I’ll be back."
Kjelle watched him leave the cell, leaving her alone with her racing thoughts. Her pride warred with her desire for a better life, and Alios’ words would not leave her mind.
"Maybe he’s right… " she muttered under her breath, unaware that she was already leaning toward agreement.

Kjelle did not sleep the next morning. She sat under the cold electric light, on the edge of the hard bunk, her elbows on her knees, staring at the metal door with the small window for the food, as if trying to burn a hole through it. Thoughts about Alios’ offer haunted her all night. Part of Kjelle wanted to spit on everything and continue to proudly resist fate. But another part - more pragmatic and tired of constant defeats - understood that now might be the only chance to get out of this lousy hole.
The sharp grinding of a key broke the silence. The door slowly opened, and Alios appeared in the doorway. This time the man was without a uniform, in a black shirt that stretched tightly over his broad shoulders and did not hide the bulges of muscle on his arms.
"Well, good morning," he said neutrally, as if the conversation yesterday had left no trace in his memory. "I hope the night gave you enough time to think."
Kjelle raised her head, looking at Lnen searchingly.
"And what, do you really think I'll fall for this trick? Freedom in exchange for a job as a security guard for some rich guy..."

Alios chuckled slightly, taking a step forward.
"Oh, no. Not a trick at all. I'm proposing a deal. You're one of those who's used to using your fists and aren't afraid of a challenge. Judge for yourself! What's better: to rot within four walls and lose your shape? Or... to become what you're used to again - a fighter?"
Kjelle clenched her fists. The words of this tempter had hit the nail on the head. It was as if he saw right through her, understanding how to motivate her. No wonder, she thought. Lnen had said that he was familiar with her documents...
"And what do you want from me?" she muttered through clenched teeth, unconsciously fiddling with the pockets of her wrinkled trousers. "Except agreement."
"Loyalty," Alios answered firmly, approaching and leaning his back against the wall opposite the woman. "First - to me. Then, perhaps, to Vlandri. You will be part of an elite group. We work with those who are stronger, faster, more resilient than ordinary guards. In time, you will not just be guarding a post, but a real job. Missions where you can prove that you're still the best."
Kjelle smirked, but her gaze softened, her voice less aggressive.
"And... If I decide to do this, you'll just drag me out of here?"
"I have some connections in the local administration, from my time in… well, it doesn’t matter. If you get released, there’ll be a physical test first. Then you’ll decide if you’re ready for work. And yes," he leaned forward a little, "no one will hold you back by force. You can always leave. But then you’ll have to go back to this cozy nest."

Kjelle, somehow suppressing her anger at his last words, was silent, thinking about what she’d heard. Alios waited patiently, whistling something quietly under his breath. His face remained calm, but his gaze was searching, as if he was still deciding whether she was worth dragging out of here.
"Okay," Kjelle finally exhaled, rising to her feet. Her height, although impressive, was still a couple of inches shorter than the officer’s massive figure. "I’m in business."
Alios nodded, and a barely noticeable smile flickered across his lips.
"A wise decision, gal. I’ll let the right people know. You’ll be free again in a few days."
He turned to leave, but suddenly stopped and said quietly, without malice, over his shoulder:
"Don’t let me down, Kjelle. I’m rarely wrong about people, and I don’t give second chances to those who turned out to be weaker than I expected."
Kjelle watched him go until the cell door slammed shut. For the first time in six months of confinement, the woman felt like she had a new chance. Her lips twitched in a smug smile.
"We’ll see, Alios. We’ll see..."

Two days later, on a warm summer morning, Kjelle was indeed led out of the cell. She was still dressed in a simple prison uniform, and an electronic bracelet was strapped around her wrists, blocking any possible break-ins.
A pair of stern, taciturn guards led her through empty, bright corridors to a spacious parking lot, where a gleaming black jeep with opaque windows was already waiting. There was silence around the car, but surveillance cameras were visible in the corners of the room, and nearby, near other cars, there were several armed guards of both sexes, in uniform.
Alios was standing by the door of the jeep. This time he looked less formal, in a brown leather jacket and comfortable tactical pants. His eyes lingered on Kjelle for a second longer than necessary, as if he were assessing her again.
"Impressive surroundings," Kjelle chuckled, taking in the surroundings. "All this for me?"
"So that we both get there without surprises," Alios said with a slight smile, while the guards, frowning at each other, turned off the woman’s bracelet. "Sit down."
The car's interior was quite comfortable: soft, clean seats, pull-out shelves, a small flat-screen monitor. Kjelle sat down opposite Alios, stretching and flexing her arms. It seemed that even breathing had become easier.
"Is that all, boss?"
"Now tell me more," she said energetically, leaning forward a little. "What was this test you were talking about?"

The driver, a thin, dark-skinned man dressed like Lnen, also climbed into the jeep and slammed the door. Then he asked in a low, smoke-filled voice:
She didn't like foreign territory, but she felt more confident in this building than in her cell. The corridors were wide, clean, and everything around her spoke of technological advancement and financial well-being.
"We’re leaving, Jus," Alios nodded. He chuckled slightly, as if expecting the woman’s question.
"Several stages. We’ll start with physical training. You’ll have to prove that you can keep up with our best fighters. Then a stress test. And finally, something special."
"More specifically," Kjelle narrowed her eyes.
"You’ll find out," Alios evaded the answer, clearly enjoying her impatience.
The streets of Olympus flashed past the windows, welcoming the start of another work day with an increasing hum.
Kjelle glanced back at the slowly moving prison gates, their metal sheets gleaming dully. "Karin, Amara, and the others are still there... It’s a shame I can’t do anything for them."
"And if I fail?" she asked, distracted from her gloomy thoughts, with a hint of doubt.
"Then you’ll go back to where we took you from," Alios replied calmly, bowing his head slightly and absentmindedly looking out the window at the garbage-strewn quarters of the lower city. "But, frankly speaking, I’m convinced that won’t happen."

Kjelle looked at him for a few moments. Her lips twitched in a slight smile.
"You’re too self-confident, Alios."
"Perhaps yes. But that’s appropriate, right?"
She didn’t answer, but her silence spoke for itself.
Soon the car stopped in the business district, near a multi-story cylindrical building made of glass and metal, with the logo of corporation on the façade - a hieroglyph resembling golden snakes clinging to each other.
"How was your first hour of freedom?" Alios asked slightly ironically as soon as Kjelle got out of the jeep.
"Like a tigress who was promised a bigger cage," she snapped, looking around the building surrounded by a small park area.
Alios grinned widely, clearly expecting such a taunt.
"Okay... Then you’ll probably like the place we’re heading to.
Without wasting any time," he gestured for her to follow him up the wide staircase leading to the doors, and Kjelle resolutely followed.

Kjelle and Alios, after a quick breakfast in a cozy café, took the silent elevator up to a spacious hall on the fourth floor. All the necessary equipment for employees was located here: the latest exercise machines, mats for hand-to-hand combat, and the like. Several men and women of different ages in comfortable sportswear with corporate logos were already training under the watchful eyes of watchful instructors. Kjelle involuntarily narrowed her eyes: many of them moved deftly, precisely, with training - these were certainly not simple security guards, but real fighters.
"This will be your first training ground," Alios said affably, interrupting her thoughts. "But first, we’ll quickly test your skills."
"You think I can't handle it?" Kjelle smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. Her gaze became sharp, almost predatory.
"I think you could use a warm-up," he answered calmly.
Alios waved his hand, inviting a short but wiry man of about fifty to come over.
"This is Sthan," Alios introduced him, exchanging a firm handshake with him. "One of the best trainers. He will test your skills. Show me what you can do in hand-to-hand combat and, if there’s time, with a bladed weapon."
"Coach?" Kjelle cast an appraising glance at Stan, then turned her eyes to Alios. "I hope he can fall as well as he can teach." "You’ll see for yourself," Alios answered shortly. "Get started."
Kjelle didn’t waste time on questions. She took off her old prison jacket and stood on the mats opposite Stan. He bowed slightly, and his bald head flashed in the sun.
"Don’t linger," Kjelle said with a grin and, without waiting for the coach’s first step, rushed forward.
The fight began sharply and aggressively. Stan was more agile than he seemed, but Kjelle considered herself an experienced mercenary for good reason. Her blows were powerful and precisely calculated, and her arm and leg movements were aggressive and swift. She attacked without pause, forcing the instructor to defend himself and back away. Stan still tried to adapt his defense to Kjelle’s style, but after a couple of minutes he still found himself on his back, unable to block a side kick to the stomach. The triumphant woman, breathing heavily, stood over the trainer, one hand gripping his collar, her fist raised for the finishing blow.

"That’s enough!" Alios declared. He celebrated her victory with a few loud claps. The other spectators remained at a respectful distance, talking in low voices. Some followed Alios’ example.
Kjelle slowly let go of the sourly smiling instructor, rose to her feet and looked back at Alios. He stood there, shaking his head slightly.
"Impressive," he said reservedly, coming closer to her. "But this is only the beginning."
Kjelle wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and grinned.
"I’m here to be the best! If you have other contenders, let them come forward one by one!"
Alios laughed, short and hoarse, but sincere.
"Well, Kjelle. Welcome."

Kjelle quickly got used to her new life. Her apartment, paid for until her first paycheck by the corporation, was small but cozy. Light beige walls, wooden floors and a minimum of furniture - everything spoke of transience, but at the same time helped her feel free again. The windows on the twenty-fourth floor offered an impressive view of the bustling business district, which lifted Kjelle’s spirits at the end of the working day.
Guarding the Techno-Prime branch and the surrounding area alternated with target practice, hand-to-hand combat, and tactical exercises—Kjelle was completely immersed in the process, although she did not allow herself to show too much interest.
Alios kept popping up at the right moments: once handing her a modified version of the Army knife that Lnen had noticed Kjelle used most often; another time giving her advice on close-quarters combat techniques that turned out to be surprisingly useful.
One evening, she returned home to find a small plastic bag on the kitchen table. Next to it was a note: “This is not a bribe. Thought you might need it. D.” Inside was a Special Forces bulletproof belt with his initials on the buckle: “K.S.”
"Hmm... Not a bribe, huh?" Kjelle chuckled, but she soon put the belt on.
Alios was not trying to impose himself, but his presence was felt in small ways. When the shower broke one evening, Alios unexpectedly appeared on the doorstep with a repair kit.
"You know I don't need help, right?" she snapped, placing her fists on her hips.
"Sure," he replied, not looking away. "But it'll be quicker this way."
Kjelle just snorted, but let him in. Half an hour later, Alios left as if nothing had happened, leaving behind only a slight smell of lubricant - and a functioning shower.
Gradually, Kjelle began to get used to him, in part because Alios demonstrated his confidence and strength without unnecessary pathos.

Late one evening, after a particularly hard day, Kjelle lingered in the training room, practicing knife throws. Alios lazily leaned against the doorframe.
"You should rest," the officer said calmly.
"That's what I'm doing," she responded sharply, picking up a new blade from the collection hanging on the wall. "Ayomi is still more skilled at throwing blades than I am. And I'm still on par with Hassan in unarmed combat."
He looked on approvingly until she gave it her all. When Kjelle finally ran out of steam, Alios came closer and handed her a bottle of water.
"You have potential. But I think you’re taking on too much.
Kjelle didn’t answer, but her gaze softened. She took the bottle, took a sip, and handed it back, saying quietly,"
"You’re strange, Alios. But… thank you."
The officer nodded, as if that answer suited him.
And so Kjelle became part of the team. But the most surprising thing for her was that there was someone she could trust, even if she didn’t want to admit it yet.
Joint patrols and training sessions had become a kind of game for Kjelle and Alios: they studied each other not only physically, but also psychologically. Alios was also an experienced fighter, but he didn’t push her with authority – he gave Kjelle freedom, making it clear that he considered her his equal. She was not used to giving in, and he was one of the few who knew how to keep up with her.

Daily training usually took place in a small rented area in Kjelle’s quarter – a hall with mats and a few pieces of equipment. Sometimes both did without weapons, honing hand-to-hand combat: throws, grabs, slides.
About a month after their first meeting, Kjelle was angry about her weak reaction time due to a headache that morning, and Alios, as usual, remained calm, which only egged her on more.
"Slow today," he said mockingly, deftly avoiding her grip and responding with a flying punch that almost knocked her off her feet.
"Ha! We'll see," Kjelle growled, rushing forward.
Suddenly the fight became more than just a training session: punches sometimes a little harder than necessary, and desperate attempts to win with almost every known technique. Alios, noticing Kjelle's excitement, smiled faintly - she was in her element, and he admired it. But he was not about to give in either.
Kjelle hesitated slightly - Alios caught her hand and made a deft throw. In the end, the woman lay pressed tightly to the mat, and the officer's hands were wrapped around her wrists like steel grips. Both wrestlers were breathing heavily, their ash-colored uniforms were soaked with sweat.
"Are you giving up?" Alios asked dully, leaning a little lower.
"No way!" she growled stubbornly, not taking her eyes off him.
Alios felt Kjelle's breath touch his cheek while the mercenary was still trying to break free, although it seemed with less passion. Kjelle froze for a moment, as if weighing something, and smiled - boldly, dangerously.
"Hold on tighter," Kjelle said brazenly.
She suddenly seized the initiative: a powerful jerk of her muscular legs, and Alios was on his back, and she was on top. The officer grinned, not trying to break free, only looking up.
"Maybe you really did win," he said, a little ironically.
Kjelle held him tightly, finding herself both irritated and attracted to the Karstian. She sighed heavily, letting the excitement of the fight recede, and squeezed Alios’ wrists a little tighter, as if to confirm: I won.
"So what?" he asked quietly, almost in a whisper.
She did not answer with words. The next moment, Kjelle leaned closer, their lips met - at first sharply, as if continuing the struggle, and then softer and deeper. They seemed to have forgotten where they were. There were no winners today, and they both knew it.

Warm sunlight filtered through the half-open blinds, creating a bizarre pattern of light and shadow on the beige plaster walls. A slight morning breeze blew through the half-open window in Alios's bedroom. He lived a couple of blocks away from Kjelle's house, in an almost equally tiny apartment with only the bare essentials.
The woman woke up first, but she was in no hurry to get up, enjoying the pleasant, refreshing energy that seemed to permeate her from the head to the toes of her legs. Kjelle was lying on the edge of the disheveled bed; one of the woman’s arms hung casually down, and the other was awkwardly thrown over the blanket of thin white wool. The events of the previous night came back to him in fragments: the struggle, then the looks that spoke louder than words, and finally the way everything had spiraled out of control, unexpected and natural at the same time.
After she had finished, she raised her head and looked at Alios. The Karstian, like Kjelle, had fresh bruises and scratches from his evening and nighttime fun. He was sleeping on his back, his head turned towards Kjelle. His face seemed relaxed, almost peaceful.

'Damn you, Alios,' she thought, touching his chin. For a moment, she thought she saw a faint trace of pain from the blow from that whore, Mikani.
Kjelle was not one to be sentimental or to let herself get attached to others too quickly. And yet... For the first time in a long period, she felt so at ease - and it could be dangerous.
"Running away already?" a hoarse voice came from behind her.
Kjelle shuddered and turned around, her muscles reflexively tensing.
"You think you have a chance to hold me back?"
Alios was no longer asleep, watching her from under half-closed eyelids, his lips twisted in a familiar, slight smile.
"I’m not even trying anymore," scratching his broad chest, Alios raised himself up, leaning on his elbow. "Didn’t you say yesterday that you won the fight?"
Kjelle snorted, remembering “the fight”. She suspected that Lnen had given in - too easily to take the initiative.
"It seems you simply didn’t have the strength to resist," she smiled cheekily.
Alios grinned back broadly and good-naturedly and extended his hand with thin, long-healed scars, tenaciously grabbing the woman’s right wrist, pulling her closer.

Kjelle was next to him before she could blink.
"Maybe we can settle for a draw this time?" he suggested quietly, conspiratorially.
The woman stared at him for several long seconds before breaking free and rising smoothly from the bed.
"Seriously, Alios," she warned, pulling on her usual black underwear and standard dark purple suit. "Next time I really will win!"
Once fully dressed, she went into the kitchen, where coffee was already brewing. Kjelle looked at the steaming mugs, strangely satisfied. Yes, there was something more to her and Alios than a professional relationship, but the boundaries were still blurred. And that suited her. Another competition, this time psychological.

The subsequent training sessions remained tough and tense, but now there were new nuances - smiles thrown surreptitiously, glances lingering longer than usual.
Alios did not make any sudden moves, but his presence became more noticeable for the woman. He cared so unobtrusively that Kjelle was surprised to find herself not irritated by all these incidents: Alios would leave her favorite type of coffee in the kitchen, or bring her a sports bandage when she sprained her wrist, or...
Her wariness had not completely disappeared, but deep down she had come to the conclusion: Alios was not a threat. At least not one to run from. And she allowed herself to relax – with someone who did not try to crush her will.
One evening, returning from another run, Kjelle found Alios in his small apartment – he was sitting at his desk, methodically checking the parts of an old needle thrower, angular and bulky.

"Make yourself at home," Kjelle greeted him, pulling off her soft deerskin jacket.
"Yes, of course," he grinned, not looking up from the disassembled weapon.
His hands worked almost automatically, and Alios liked it. Just think, in his native Highcastle such a gun was the ultimate dream of boys, including Alios. Poor, boring existence. Parents, who worked as small craftsmen in this provincial center of Karst, were not the best example. It is not surprising that such an inquisitive teenager as Alios once ran away to distant relatives who lived between the Flora Forest and the Great Western Ridge. In his new place, he hunted with varying success and worked as a prospector, receiving his first lessons in tactics and handling weapons. By the beginning of the Uprising, Alios honed his skills in the Obsidian Phalanx - the paramilitary forces of Karst, wavering between loyalists and rebels. The Federation disbanded the Phalanx, but Alios soon found a successful job at Techno-Prime, where his dubious reputation was no obstacle to employment...
Kjelle took a shower and changed into fresh underwear, then returned and sighed.
"So what now, guy?" she sitting down opposite Alios.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, distracted from the images of the past flashing in his head. The hand holding the empty clip froze in midair.
Alios briefly thought that Kjelle's manners were still not very popular among her colleagues: she was often aggressive and preferred to push through instead of looking for workarounds. Stan, for example, even believed that these qualities completely devalued her undeniable military skills.

"You brought me here, promising me a 'new life,'" she folded her arms across her chest. "I'm still waiting for you to show me what the catch is."
Alios put down his needle thrower and looked at Kjelle carefully. It was far from his first crush, but the connection had become longer than usual. He hadn't foreseen this when he decided to test her with small signs of attention to see if she would become an ally. In case his position in the corporation was suddenly shaken.
"And she found out a lot about me, I blurted it out myself. And practically without embellishing."
"No tricks, girlfriend," he said calmly. "I see in you someone who can achieve more than you had with your previous employers. You just need to… stop looking back. I highly recommend it."
She was silent. The words had hurt her more than she expected. For the first time in a long time, someone saw her as a person, not just a fighter or a captive.

About three months had passed since her release. The autumn rain pounded the glass, echoing in the room with a muffled noise. Kjelle sat on the windowsill, stretching out her legs and looking at the gray sky. She had always loved the rain – it drowned out unnecessary thoughts, took her into a quiet emptiness.
Alios stood at the kitchen table, leaning on it with his hands. He couldn't get the morning briefing out of his head, where Photius Lionaki, Andronikos's polite and respectable deputy for security, had told him about the upcoming mission to a branch of Elysseum, an influential industrial firm in Artemise that competed with Techno-Prime.
"Why do you think they chose us?" Alios finally spoke, breaking the silence.
Kjelle glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
"We work well together," she grinned. "Better than most! It's time to take on a big job, with a big paycheck."
Alios completely agreed with her about the latter, especially since the routine duties were already boring, but he didn't really feel like taking a vacation.
"Suren or Ayomi and Delia have more experience with such operations," Alios thoughtfully clasped his fingers. "There's one more thing."
"Namely?"
She looked at him expectantly.
"Jeremy... my friend, with whose help I got you out, is retiring soon. Some critical lawyers dug up several cases like yours, when he was strangely accommodating towards malicious repeat offenders. Alios learned about this the other day. Jeremy Sarn, one of my friends before the Uprising, managed to remain an influential legal official in Olympus and the Federation."
"I don’t understand how this is connected with the mission," Kjelle frowned. "But it’s bad news, of course."
Alios slowly told:
"There’s a high probability that his successor will review the verdicts. In short, those involved, including me, may have unpleasant complications. The management of the Olympus branch of Techno-Prime will not conflict with the feds over guards like us, especially - citizens of Utopia. In general, judging by some hints and rumors, this mission is a test. Success, and we'll be given enough resources to lay low, safely out of the federation. Failure, and we'll be thrown overboard from the corporate ship, getting rid of the... toxic part of the crew."
Kjelle slid off the windowsill and stood up straight, crossing her arms over her chest. Her cheerful tone only partly hid her anxiety.
"We'll see. Better get ready, Alios. I'm sure it'll be cool!"
"As you say," he sat down near the table, moving closer the flat panel display, blinking green - a sign that all the necessary information from Lo had arrived. "Shall we start with photos or videos?"


The darkness of the night, like a blanket, covered Olympus. Only rare street lamps cast flickering spots of light on the wet asphalt. Alios and Kjelle, having spent a day and a half preparing, were hiding behind a large metal container near an old brick fence. Just a few dozen yards from the side entrance to the Elysseum complex, there were several cubic and cylindrical towers of glass and concrete, standing almost right next to each other. Relative silence reigned near the complex - the evening shift of employees was taking up their posts, and the day shift had already gone home.
"Two-eleven," Alios whispered, checking the watch on his wrist. — The shift should be here in a few minutes.
Kjelle nodded silently. Like Alios, she was dressed in “chameleon”. It was best suited to dark shades - the model was far from perfect. Under “chameleons” the agents secured their main weapons and smaller equipment, which most likely would be needed soon. Alios prudently concealed his Karstian appearance: his short-cropped chestnut hair was hidden under a blue-black wig, indistinguishable from natural hair without a meticulous check, and his irises turned from green to almost black - thanks to special drops that acted for several hours.

"I think this," Kjelle muttered, keeping one eye on her from hiding. They had already missed a dozen potential targets - their physiques were obviously not suitable. A tired employee, a middle-aged woman in the standard Elysseum junior uniform, was walking through the arch of the service entrance, her heels clicking. She was clearly unaware of the surveillance.
Kjelle did not hesitate. The Elysseum employee - a plump woman slightly older than she, with lush, curly hair down to her shoulder blades - only managed to blink in surprise before she went limp from the hard jabs to her chest and head. Kjelle held the Elysseum woman by the shoulders so that she would not fall too loudly. Afterwards, with professional skill, she pulled the uniform off the high-cheekboned brunette, leaving her in a brown-beige shirt and dark green panties. All these clothes, with woven patterns on a marine theme, smelled of some kind of perfume for the rich. The mercenary briefly noted that the underwear of this wide-hipped woman was of very high quality - made of expensive satin and with small semi-precious stones, exactly opposite the nipples of the wide-hipped Elysseum. It looked like agates and topazes ... matched to the shades of the eyes of their owner.
Alios did not interfere - he stood nearby, resting his hands on his hips and smiling approvingly. He had no doubt that his partner would cope perfectly - and so it turned out.
Kjelle shackled the woman's wrists and connected the chains of bracelets with thick bronze rods - decorative details of the fence with strong belts. The mercenary carefully tied a soft linen scarf around her victim's mouth, securing the knot at the back of her head. Finally, Kjelle, with Alios's help - so as not to waste any more time - carefully hid the Elysseum behind the container, securely covering it with wooden boxes and garbage bags.

"Clean," Alios noted with satisfaction, looking around.
"Excellent," Kjelle responded, checking the victim's shirt. A second later, she pulled out a smooth rectangle of a grayish plastic key card. "Just what we need."
She looked over her loot with satisfaction - a blue shirt, a jacket and a narrow azure knee-length skirt. All mostly made of linen and cotton. The distinctive features of this uniform were round copper buttons and purple silk inserts on the sleeves and hips. On the chest - a small Elysseum badge with an engraved spiral labyrinth. The symbol of Elysseum.
"I hope it won’t be too tight," Kjelle chuckled, pulling on her shirt. "And how do I look?" she asked with interest, adjusting her blue collar.
"Pretty, in a good way. Still... if any of the Elyssians talk to us, leave it to me," Alios rolled up Kjelle’s “chameleon” and stuck it in the hole at the bottom of the container: Techno-Prime cleaners would be visiting soon.
Kjelle chuckled:
"Of course! You’re a master of persuasion! Maybe you want to pick out a suitable outfit for yourself?"
Alios shook his head:
"You know, it’s hard enough finding someone my size. And we’ve already been here for a while. I don’t think we need to wait any longer."
They immediately headed for the back entrance. At the checkpoint, a bored, round-faced guard, busy with some kind of electronic game, only glanced at the two of them.
"Yes," Kjelle answered indifferently, handing over the key card. "I have a newbie with me, he’s only getting his uniform today," she explained about Alios.

The unperturbed Karstian thrust a temporary pass under the yawning guard’s nose—an ingenious fake, one of the things provided for the operation. The Elysseumian read it quickly, muttered something illegible into his piebald moustache, and handed the paper back to Alios:
"Okay, come in. Have a nice first day, lad."
As Photius said at the briefing, according to the Elysseum tradition, a newcomer to the company is accompanied in the first days by a more experienced colleague.
A dimly lit and half-empty room, resembling a warehouse, stretched out behind the quietly clicking door.
"The first stage is complete," Kjelle noted, smiling.
"There are still two more to go," Alios reminded. "And that’s where the fun begins."
The situation was a bit like reconnaissance in the Western Ridge, where any reckless step off the path threatened to fall into the abyss. But Alios took the risk for granted.
The inner sector of the complex was much more secure than the courtyard outside. The corridors glowed with a flat, deathly white light, and the walls, painted a monochromatic steel-gray, seemed to emphasize the severity of this place. Surveillance cameras hung on almost every corner, and Alios and Kjelle had to make every effort not to arouse suspicion. Kjelle watched their surroundings, trying not to miss a single detail. It seemed that both agents did not stand out much from the other employees - their main advantage.
"Camera on the right," she barely moved her lips.
"I see it," Alios answered, slowing down a little.
Reaching a crossroads of corridors, Kjelle took the key card out of her pocket again.
"Next is access the sector gamma-five," she said. "We need to get there by the nearest personnel elevator. The documents, if you remember, are in the office on the sixteenth."
"It's worth the risk," Alios muttered, looking up at the oval floor indicator above. "Let's move."

Kjelle swiped the card across the scanner on the wall. A few seconds later, the panel flashed green and the doors slid open, hissing softly.
The elevator was cramped, intended exclusively for service use. As soon as the doors closed, Alios pressed the button for the fifteenth floor, as close as possible without raising unnecessary suspicions.
The elevator began to rise smoothly. Kjelle looked at the row of buttons, then turned her gaze to Alios.
"You’re pretty damn calm for a guy who’s involved in this." A small smile played across her lips.
"I know we can handle this."
"Right! Still cocky," she snorted, but without reproach.
The elevator stopped and shook slightly. Alios paused, listening. They emerged onto a floor where the corridors were noticeably larger, with marble floors and ornate gilded lamps.
They slowed at each turn, waiting to see if they would hear the guards.
Having reached the right floor and approached the massive metal door, Alios unhooked a miniature conical object from his belt – “a clever” picklock prepared by the specialists of Techno-Prime.
Are you sure this will work? — asked Kjelle, looking over his shoulder.
"Yes, if we guessed right with the system ..." Alios connected the faintly glowing device to another panel, and it immediately flashed with warning blue lights. "We'll be inside in twenty seconds."
Kjelle held her breath. Time dragged on painfully slowly. Alios worked deftly, coping with a web of colored wires.
"Done," he said quietly when the door swung silently open.

They walked inside, leaving behind the gloom of the corridor. The private apartments were spacious and luxurious. Leather furniture, huge windows, many ancient paintings in gold frames on the walls.
"Where exactly should we look?" Kjelle said, lowering her voice noticeably, looking with disgust at the mahogany cabinets, which she considered excessively ornate, and the crystal and jade trinkets on the shelves.
Alios took a small camera out of his pocket and went to the massive horseshoe-shaped table made of fireproof black glass in the center of the room.
"Here! The safe should be built into it... Cover it."
Kjelle took a position by the door, peering into the corridor. Alios quickly felt the hidden mechanism with his nimble fingers. The picklock did not fail here either. A cough-like click — and the decorative copper detail moved, revealing an almost empty safe.
"Yes," Alios whispered and, taking out a miniature camera from under "the chameleon" simulating a regular brown overall, he quickly sorted through the thin stack of documents, copying the contents of each sheet. Some diagrams and formulas, absolutely incomprehensible...
"Even faster," Kjelle said quietly but tensely, hearing someone's footsteps approaching in the distance.
"Here are the last two," he responded, closing the camera and putting it in his pocket.

Alios slammed the safe shut and pushed the plate back into place, removing all traces.
"Let's go!" Kjelle rushed to the exit.
They had only gone a few steps when half a dozen guards in azure-white uniforms tumbled out of the elevator ahead, exchanging cheerful glances and discussing something. For a moment the Elysseumians stared in surprise at Alios and Kjelle, who were about to pass them by as if nothing had happened.
"What are you doing here?" the slender blonde frowned, boring a suspicious look into both of their eyes. "There is no place for employees of the outer sectors..."
"Shut up, bitch!" Kjelle barked. Hiding their hands behind their backs, she and Alios had already pulled on their combat gloves and drawn their weapons.
An energy discharge from Kjelle’s pistol, like a small crimson lightning bolt, entwined the blonde. A split second, and she was writhing on the floor, as if in a weak epileptic seizure. Next to another guard, who had been neutralized by Alios in the same way.
One of the guards managed to pull out a radio.
"Intruders on the sixteenth! Urgent… " he managed to shout, but no further words followed.

Alios darted forward like lightning, grabbing the Elysseum man by the arm and twisting it with such force that the radio flew to the floor. The next second, Alios turned and hit the guard in the jaw with his elbow - the sound of a crunch and the dull thud of a body against the wall made the other guards jump back. Kjelle rushed after them, clutching a hefty rubber baton, which she managed to snatch from the nearest fallen man.
The agents did not engage in a shootout - the risk was too great. And they forced their opponents into close combat. The enraged Elysseum men pressed on, but the narrowness of the corridor helped Alios and Kjelle - they could not be surrounded.
"Back to back!" Alios said firmly.
Kjelle turned to cover the rear, and Alios attacked from the front. His long arms hit like steel hammers. One of the guards, short-haired but almost as strong as he, tried to get the intruder in the ribs with a rubber truncheon, but Alios ducked and hit his opponent in the groin with a powerful uppercut. Kjelle parried the lunge of another guard, a lanky and agile one. She dodged a direct blow with the truncheon and slammed her fist under his ribs. The man screamed thinly and shrilly, but fell silent when Kjelle hit him in the face with her knee and threw him into the wall.
"Minus four," she snorted contemptuously.
"Look, it’s too early to celebrate!" Alios warned, spitting blood, busy with the truncheon of another guard. Lnen grabbed the Elysseum man by the forearm, knocked the weapon away with a powerful jerk and pushed him, knocking him off his feet.

The elderly guard, bald and gray-moustached, pulled out a pistol, but Alios noticed it before the angrily snorting old man could take aim. He turned and threw a shuriken, it looks like a silver flash. The projectile, with a loud crunch, crashed between the barrel and the handle, knocking the pistol out of his hands.
"Bullshit!!" the Elysseum man recoiled, but Alios did not give him a chance for a second try. He grabbed the old man's neck with his hand and slammed the back of his head against the wall. The man went limp and slid to the floor.
The remaining guard, the youngest and visibly dejected by the rapid defeat of his colleagues, clearly had no desire to fight any longer. But there was nowhere to retreat. Pale, with bulging eyes, he jumped up to Kjelle, desperately swinging his baton. The woman easily intercepted the weapon and with a sharp side blow slammed her baton into the Elysseum man's knee. He fell to the side, howling, and Kjelle finished with a blow to the back of his head with the edge of her palm.
Soon only the heavy breathing of Alios and Kjelle, excited by the fight and victory, broke the silence. Both had managed without casualties, if not a few bruises and abrasions were counted.
"Not too smoothly," Kjelle noted, massaging her left ear, which had managed to catch the knuckles of one of the guards.
"We did it, and that’s the main thing," Alios replied, grinning.
He straightened up and looked at the bodies on the floor.
"They won’t be down for long," Kjelle threw down her baton and paused for a moment, enjoying the view of the defeat of the Elysseumites. "So let’s break out and hurry!"

Kjelle and Alios maintained an outward calm, but both were on edge inside. Using the spare service staircase - the elevator was too dangerous - they climbed up in a matter of seconds, trying to catch their breath. In a camouflaged cache, the things needed for the last stage of the mission were waiting. From their talks with other Techno-Prime's employees, both agents knew that the cache was being set up by a federal officer secretly working for the Vlandri's corporation.
Alios looked around the roof, lit by the occasional electric lantern, looking for the places marked on the plan. He was new here, like Kjelle, but he knew the place well from the photographs.
The night air was cool and fresh. The city lights shimmered below like a myriad of stars.
The woman squinted into the darkness as the wind ruffled her hair. The ventilation systems hummed softly.
As Alios had expected, there was no sign of security or technical personnel. However, he could not shake the vague feeling of someone else's presence, like a mosquito's squeak on the edge of audibility. Alios had first experienced this as a teenager, hunting in the Flora Forest. Trying to hide his anxiety, he said with deliberate nonchalance, adjusting his shoulder strap:
"It seems we’ve managed it. We should leave, for now…"
"For now, young people? I, Berenika Kyriakos of the Barca Faction, think you’re being too hasty."

The authoritative, raspy voice made the fugitives freeze. Ahead, about six yards away, between two rectangular batteries, stood a small, gray-haired woman in a long maroon dress embroidered with floral patterns in gold thread. Kyriakos, formally a senior investment consultant at the Elysseum, and rumored to be one of the shadow managers, Berenika was renowned for her sharp mind and ruthless business acumen. Despite her nearly eighty years of age, the old woman's posture remained as straight as it had been half a century ago. Her hair was pulled back into a bun with a few purple strands, and her graceful, wrinkled hands rested on a cane inlaid with silver rings.
"…fucking old fox," Kjelle whispered, baring her teeth viciously. Nevertheless, she looked at Kyriakos with some respect and bowed to her. Alios immediately followed his partner’s example. He completely trusted Kjelle in such nuances.
The Karstian, ignoring his wildly pounding heart and unpleasantly aching stomach, quickly looked around for Kyriakos’ bodyguards, but saw no one. Which, however, did not reassure him at all.
Berenika was examining Kjelle and Alios, as if scanning them. A smooth, thin mahogany cane trembled in her hands - Alios suspected that it was not just a support, but most likely a disguised weapon.
"Madam," he began in an extremely polite tone, "we were simply checking the security systems - an emergency. Apparently you were not warned in advance..."
Alios, however, did not believe that he would be able to get rid of the old woman so easily. He had not spoken to her before that day, but, like many in Olympus, he had heard of Berenika as a meticulous negotiator who loved to set verbal traps.
"Don’t lie to me, boy," the old woman interrupted, gripping her cane tighter. Her beady black eyes flashed slyly. Berenika looked at them both, as if weighing what to do next.
"How unusual," she continued in an almost secular tone. "People wandering around on the roof when they should be somewhere else. And carelessly trampling my orchids."
Shaking her head reproachfully, she pointed her cane at a ceramic flower pot where boot prints remained.
"Why do I get the feeling that you will have nothing to say when and if... your colleagues... come up here?"
She slowly licked her thin, almost colorless lips with the corner of her tongue.

Kjelle frowned and reached for her holster, but Alios curled his fingers in a conventional gesture, urging him not to take abrupt action. He knew perfectly well that Berenika would hardly have come without reliable security measures. For example, being present in the form of a high-quality hologram. Or being in the flesh, but with a sniper in the next building.
The old woman took a small step forward, and Alios reflexively covered Kjelle from the side.
"Better to just let us go, madam," he said firmly.
"Really?" Berenika's eyebrows rose, and her lips twitched in a semblance of a smile. "Hmmm. Are you sure you can afford such impudence?
Kjelle finally couldn't take it anymore:
"Listen, Kyriakos! Either you call security or leave us alone! In any case, we don't have time for idle chatter!"
Mrs. Kyriakos laughed, low and dark.
"We don't intend to threaten you," Alios intervened. "But don't force us to take extreme measures!"
Berenika narrowed her eyes, as if assessing his words. All that was heard was the mournful howling of the wind.
"A strong girl next to a tough boy," the old woman remarked sarcastically." And both seem to be really ready to go to the end... I saw HOW you entered the apartment."
Alios gritted his teeth, and Kjelle hissed furiously, clutching her holster. It wasn't that the news had come as a complete surprise to Alios - he had sensed Berenika's greater knowledge of this mission as soon as he saw her. And yet, Kyriakos had dealt a significant blow to his professionalism.

The old woman's gaze remained cold, but it contained not only anger and anticipation, but also curiosity. Berenika casually waved her cane, looking straight at Alios.
"Tell me just one thing. Did you do it for the money? Or for something more?"
Alios paused for a few seconds and answered in a low voice:
"For the sake of the greatest possible independence from everything that gets in the way."
Her gaze deepened. Then Berenika nodded slightly, as if accepting his answer. She turned and disappeared into the shadows as unnoticed as she had appeared.
Kjelle looked at Alios with distrust, her grip on the pistol grip loosening slightly.
"Do you think she just let us go?"
"No, of course not... But while she's thinking, we need to get out of here."
Alios felt that time was running out. And yet the old woman's retreat encouraged him greatly - as if a second wind had opened up. 'We'll finish this', he thought fiercely. 'On our own terms!'
They rushed toward the edge of the roof, fenced in with steel mesh. A few yards away, Alios stopped at a ventilation shaft, groped around in it, and felt a pair of barely noticeable protrusions. Two smooth presses - and a square niche opened at Alios's feet with a soft click. He exhaled deeply and pulled out a soft, silky bundle with relief - a packed antigravity cape. Kjelle was fussily unwrapping another one. Another minute and they would easily jump over the fence, fly to the helipad in the next block, where they collect the reward.
There was a barely perceptible rustle from behind. Both turned around - too late.

Something matte gray hit the ribbed ledge of the panel with a dull thud and, jumping up, rolled right to the feet of the fugitives. Tired from the recent brutal fight slightly slowed their reactions.
"Damn it!" Kjelle darted to the side; the small ball, hissing disgustingly, released a thin stream of dirty green gas. A suffocating cloud covered the fugitives. Alios, staggering, covered his nose and mouth with his sleeves. Kjelle pulled the pistol halfway out, but her fingers wouldn't move any further and her legs felt like jelly. She staggered and fell to one knee.
"What the hell is this..." the woman croaked, her eyelids growing heavier with each passing second.
Alios tried to lift Kjelle, but he, too, was already struggling to stand. His shoulders slumped, his arms hanging limply at his sides.
"Impossible..." he breathed out, not believing that they had been outwitted. It was as if acid had been splashed into his throat and nasopharynx. 'So close! We're almost out!'

The measured tap of a cane was heard from behind, and Berenika appeared again. She held herself as if she had just won a chess game.
"I didn't think at first that we'd have to resort to such a crude intervention," she said, stopping next to the fallen couple. The light from a lamp glinted on Kyriakos's purple-varnished nails. — But it turns out they've prepared some interesting means of evacuation for you.
Kjelle tried to snap back, but her tongue would no longer obey her. A fog swam before her eyes, and the last thing she saw through it was the old woman's contented face.
"Rest a little," Berenika's voice rang out from somewhere far away...

INTERLUDE: IN THE MANSION OF KYRIAKOS
(CID, created by rufusciusivan)

Kjelle woke up with a headache.
She groaned, and felt something dry in her mouth. She realized she was gagged with a thick piece of cloth tied in-between her teeth. Kjelle tried to move, but couldn’t. She was bound to an armchair with ropes and leather restraints. Her wrists were secured to the armrests with leather straps. Her ankles were tied to the chair’s legs with similar leather straps. A rope was pinning her torso against the armchair’s back.
A quick glance to the side allowed her to see Alios was similarly restrained to an armchair next to her.
"Ah, good, you’re finally awake."
Berenika was standing in front of her.
The mercenary realized she was almost naked – the outfit of the Elysseum employee whom she had mugged had been removed while she was unconscious. She was only wearing her sports bra and boyshorts.

Berenika smiled thinly. "We gave your clothes back to their rightful owner. I apologize for the inconvenience."
The gag muffled Kjelle’s retort. She tugged against her bonds, to no avail. She hated that feeling of powerlessness. She was a fighter, she used to be a soldier. She couldn’t stand being humiliated like that.
Berenika lightly tapped the floor with her cane. "Now, now, let’s keep this meeting civil. I didn’t go to the trouble of bringing you here for the pleasure of ogling your body – I’m way past that age."
Kjelle and Alios were indeed being held in a richly-decorated conference room. Two security guards of Elysseum were standing behind them.
Berenika was surrounded by a group of people clad in expensive business outfits. Kjelle didn’t know them personally, but she knew their kind. The hair dyes and arrogant smiles were giveaways. These people were from Olympus’ former ruling class, belonged to major Houses. Even seven years after the Uprising, they still behaved like they held the power. Their arrogance was a bit pathetic – they clung to their outdated lifestyle, dreaming of a return to power that would never come.
Still, they were dangerous.

Berenika kept taking, as her thumb was carressing the tio of her cane. "I had you brought here for business."
She made a small gesture with her cane.
The two security guards turned Kjelle’s and Alios’ chairs. On the wall, there was a big map of the continent. Berenika used a laser pointer to show a specific place, in the desert northwest of the Theodora Range, in-between Frontier and the Federation.
"I trust you recognize the Galdar Desert? There’s an ancient science complex here. Compound Lysander. Olympus built it decades ago, but unfortunately the place was lost after the Uprising. I want you to recover some preparates there."
Kjelle’s eyes widened. The desert area between the Federation and the small country of Frontier was one of the most hostile and dangerous regions of the continent – chiefly because the native nomads of the desert were in revolt against Frontier, and had been for decades. Any foreign expedition was at risk of being shot on sight. And even if they succeeded, they’d have to contend with the diplomatic imbroglio – the Galdar Desert was disputed by the natives, Frontier, and the Federation.
"I think you understand now why I wish to use your services. I need a task force that can be…"
Expendable. Kjelle thought to herself.
"… discreet."
Kjelle glared defiantly.
Berenika raised one eyebrow. "I suppose you’re wondering why you should work for me."

2
The vibration of the blades echoed in the bones of the passengers, the old helicopter shook in gusts of dry wind, raising the sand below. The cabin smelled of sweat, hot metal and plastic. Kjelle sat by the open hatch, peering tensely at the approaching horizon - after several hours of flight, the black skeletons of needle-like spires, partially buried under the dunes, just appeared. Below stretched sand mixed with clay, from which, like the skeletons of a half-sunken flotilla, stone ruins grew, here and there hidden by glass shards, reminiscent of scattered bones. Several dwarf teratornis circled above the spires, their whitish-black plumage contrasting with their small pink heads. "I hope at least this ridiculous excursion will pass without surprises," Kjelle muttered, tightening the strap on her left wrist, holding a nearly flat black device with a matte screen - a hybrid of a miniration and a beacon - tightly to her hand. "This is my first time so far from my native Ares..."
Behind her, Alios chuckled, his lips curling into a crooked half-smile. The Karstian was just tightening the straps of his compact backpack with supplies. The same as the one Kjelle was carrying on her back.
Behind, in the shadow of a pile of tightly packed woolen bags, a sullen and bald operator in a pale orange jumpsuit glanced at the passengers from behind a protective shield. From the cockpit, the rhythmic voice of the second pilot came, giving course coordinates. The gears of the helicopter began to grind as it began to descend, banking to the left.

Both unlucky thieves, having agreed to Berenika's offer, received convenient equipment for this mission, including yellowish-brown camouflage suits - but, due to the old woman's stupid caution, they did not even have a lethal short-barreled weapon. However, the Karstian and the Aresian were given pneumatic knives, sealed first aid kits, radios and supplies for two days. A small joy for Kjelle was the pre-flight find in the backpack - a pair of smoke bombs, which Berenika initially did not want to give, but promised to think about it.
"Well, the choice was small," the Karstian responded in a cool tone, putting on thin, durable gloves and curling his lips. Alios never liked to give in to blackmail, Kjelle had time to understand. "The old woman treated us, one might say, not the worst way ... she could have immediately handed us over to the police. She gave us little time, of course. Forty-eight hours - I don't know if we'll make it!" Kjelle winced: without the recovered artifacts, after the term expired, she and Alios were awaited by the cameras. The aristocrat had not simply found them on the roof, she had thought of everything three steps ahead. Sleeping gas, a shameful demonstration to noble friends, an ultimatum. After the reluctant consent of both mercenaries, Berenika's people carefully instructed them on what was valuable in the ruins - now they would not have to collect junk at random.

The helicopter slowed down, hovering over the destroyed site. The roar of the blades merged with the whistle of the wind. Among the broken domes and rotten antennas, the northmen painted with blue and yellow clay scurried about, settling in these parts after the destruction of the Center. The natives emerged from the breaches, jumped out of holes under pyramid-shaped piles of scrap metal, shaking long rusty rods. Someone, noticing the helicopter, was calling his fellow tribesmen over with hoots and whistles. A loud drumbeat could be heard from somewhere.
"Entrance is through the emergency ventilation," Alios was busily checking his knife and the fastenings of his suit. The Karstian's face hardened, his gaze became extremely focused.
"I remember," Kjelle breathed out, watching the rope ladder being thrown down. "But first we have to convince those ragamuffins that we are not food."
The woman's sharp eyes studied the restless crowd. Kjelle pressed her lips tightly together, placing her right hand on the shoulder strap of her backpack, as if checking the fastening. The wind ruffled her hood, knocking out strands of dark hair.
"Or help them kick the bucket faster."

She grinned, rising from the seat covered in black artificial leather. Kjelle narrowed one eye and said mockingly:
"By the way, you're a romantic, aren't you? The nature here is just amazing."
"No, dear. Just tired of old ladies with grenades and the like," Alios grabbed the steel bracket by the hatch tightly.
"Enough chatter, get out!" the pilot ordered grumpily, without turning around. His voice barely made it through the noise of the engine and the crackling in the headphones. "I'm almost late anyway."
"Good luck with the desert stinkers, brave souls," the operator added unexpectedly warmly, rummaging through the aluminum container for bags.
A knotty rope ladder creaked in the gusts of wind as it crawled down. Kjelle was the first to step to the edge of the hatch, not at all worried about the immediate future. During her service in the army and in the Reka team, she had encountered much more serious opponents than some degenerates from the edge of the world.

They both jumped almost simultaneously. The wind slashed their faces, threw sand into their eyes. Their boots hit the cracked concrete on the spacious square with a dull thud, and the smells of dust, smoke, machine oil and some kind of rotten stuff hit their noses. The anxious and indignant cries of the northmen became louder, some were already rushing towards the "guests".
Yellowish-brown sand swirled around, the sun was at its zenith.
Squinting, the woman looked around the area with a predatory expression, mechanically checking the carabiner of her backpack. Kjelle was glad that at least she had been lucky with the weather. Now, at the beginning of winter, instead of the stifling heat, there was an acceptable coolness. The area was surrounded by the melted ruins of some buildings that looked like gray boxes - former warehouses, apparently.

Alios quickly stepped towards the Aresian, hanging his knife on a magnetic clip on his belt. Despite the impassive expression on his face, the Karstian noticed the same thing as Kjelle - three natives were hiding near a tilted antenna on the right, another local was looking out from behind a massive iron barrel on the left. "There's a few more gathering under that leaky dome over the middle warehouse," Alios warned phlegmatically, noticing the new northmen.
"That's true," Kjelle shaded her eyes with her hand from the sun. "One with a slingshot, the others have brought rods... They're just staring at us for now."
About twenty meters ahead, a wiry lanky fellow slowly walked out of an empty doorway, showing a blue skull painted on his face and a dirty rag that resembled a large jute sack with holes for his neck, arms, and legs. The native raised his hands, shouted something loudly and angrily, and began to sway from side to side.
"This one is clearly the elder," Kjelle chuckled and took a small smoke bomb from her belt. "Do you think you can talk to him?"
"There's a better suggestion. There's a so-called sanctuary nearby, and here's what we can do," Alios began enthusiastically...

Ten minutes later

Kjelle crept between the slanted walls under the surviving rafters, crouching and breathing evenly. The crunch of stones, the cracking of plastic, even the pounding of her heart - everything seemed too loud. A light breeze blew the torn rags and shriveled leaves that had clogged the floor.
The pale sun squinted through the dusty haze, painting the ruins a copper hue. From deep holes under the walls and stairs, some small rat-like mutants, red-eyed and partly scaly, sometimes peered out. They watched Kjelle closely, baring their small sharp teeth, but did not dare attack.
Somewhere beyond the outer perimeter, shots crackled - Alios had begun a diversionary operation. The shrill screams, interspersed with the clanking of rods and the dry bark of firearms, echoed with an unpleasant heaviness in the stomach.
As if tiny claws had run along her wrist - the device was warning of an incoming call. The woman walked around the conveyor belt, pressed a small blue button under the screen and brought her left hand to her ear.

"They've taken the bait, at least five of them. Be careful not to break your neck in the rubble near the south wing," the miniradio hissed.
Kjelle bit her lip and glanced at the skeleton of the stairwell on the right, under which lay the twisted skeletons of printing presses and large bones in tatters. "Accepted. The signal is stable, yeah..."
Shadows of natives flashed through the bars of the half-collapsed wall. Some nimble youth - his face was painted with ochre stripes, colorful feathers stuck out of his gray hair - suddenly froze and sucked in the air like a dog. Kjelle held her breath and, crouching in the shadow of a broken carriage, watched through a crack between the bricks, craning her neck.
Time seemed to slow down, but five seconds later the northman whistled and ran in the other direction, toward the shooting. Kjelle, disdainfully spat, crawled over the roof gutter to the hole in the wall and the remains of the stairs.

Having spent her last saber in the next hour when meeting several patrolmen, the woman soon reached the concrete wall of the complex and, under the cover of the ruins, made her way inside. It was cooler here, dust swirled in the air, and somewhere nearby, water dripped dully. Kjelle paused for a second, feeling a drop of moisture roll down her cheek - she realized it was sweat. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her glove and moved on. She carefully passed a collapsed section of the corridor, notable for its charred and melted panels, as if someone had once tried to burn their way through. Miniature parts of mechanisms, pieces of reinforcement, and scraps of cables were strewn everywhere. Black fungus had settled on the remains of furniture. Kjelle allowed herself to rest for a couple of minutes, finding a quiet, deserted corner, and took off her backpack. Unscrewing the lid of an aluminum flask, she sipped distilled water, ate biscuits and fruit puree from a tube. Pretending to be possessed, Alios meanwhile swung an archaic two-handed blade found in a junk heap above his head. The sword described uneven arcs, almost touching the metal mast-tower block, on which crudely painted hunting scenes glowed red. Alios's face was distorted into a sinister grimace with bared teeth and bulging eyes. He whispered, hissed, howled, shouted out meaningless phrases woven from scraps of an ancient language. In other words, he diligently imitated an attempt on the "sacred relic" - the antenna complex directly behind his back. He jumped from foot to foot, waving the weapon, dancing like an ecstatic. Muscles rolled under the skin, sweat trickled down his temples. Several northmen behind a low adobe fence to the left screamed, ran away into the ruins. Someone crossed themselves, more determined natives were readying their guns.

The shotgun roared deafeningly, the bullet struck the concrete fragments nearby. Alios reflexively ducked, hiding behind a large rounded boulder. The Karstian fell to the ground, spread-eagled, rolled over and pressed his back to the stone, hiding. His cheek pressed against the warm limestone. His shoulder ached painfully.
Alios pressed himself harder into the stone and began shouting the spells again - now with a breathy voice, as if the spirits had already taken possession of him.
The beam of a small hand torch ran over the dusty inscriptions, illuminating the logo of an old scientific network and a biohazard warning sign. Kjelle exhaled briefly, casting aside her doubts. If not her life, then her freedom was certainly at stake.
She crept along the cracked wall of the ruined hangar, carefully stepping on the concrete chips and dodging the gaps in the floor where the ventilation system had once apparently run. The smooth black flashlight trembled in her slightly tense fingers, the beam picking out rusted racks, pieces of armored cable, crushed containers. As she walked, Kjelle kept an eye on the mark on the miniration - Alios was still at the outer perimeter.

The Karstian was still distracting the northmen with a scuffle at the "shrine." Throwing aside the annoying sword, he threw gravel and broken reinforcement, shouting something like curses, making comical faces. Enthusiastically waving his arms, he jumped up and then froze, shaking his crooked fingers. Several of the natives, suspiciously watching the stranger, began to retreat, shouting warnings to each other. A shotgun roared somewhere nearby, a bullet pierced a split beam - Alios instinctively squatted behind a pile of broken bricks.
Ahead, along the only known route, through a corridor buried in petrified food waste, a new group of natives stomped. Painted faces, bone and wire beads on their necks, bulky submachine guns in their hands. These northmen walked softly, almost soundlessly, like hunters who knew their hunting grounds well.
Kjelle pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed. Under the cover of an almost intact wall, she froze, holding her breath, and slowly sank to her knees. Around her lay bed springs, mud-covered cans, broken window frames. Her hand slid to the knife on her hip, but stopped: a fight was not the best option here. Her breathing was slightly ragged when one of the natives paused for a moment at the gap in the wall and almost saw Kjelle. The dim light of the torch reflected in his pupils.

The northmen were coming across more and more often, and the Aresian woman realized: it was too dangerous to continue on her way in her usual clothes. It was not even a fact that they would capture her alive. The locals did not like aliens, especially women.
Kjelle looked around frantically, pressing herself against the metal bulkhead. Dim daylight was breaking through the cracked glass-steel ceiling plate. It snatched the outlines of fallen masts, rotten furniture, and an almost disassembled drone from the semi-darkness.
Near the broken airlock, where fragments of a satellite dish and empty containers lay, one of the natives fell behind the group. Young, busty, armed only with a wide, sheathed knife at her belt, she fiddled with the laces of a canvas shoulder bag, cursing under her breath in the local dialect. The girl's clothes were a bizarre combination of civilized and barbaric technologies, like many other desert natives. The Center workers' worn, off-white overalls - ancient technotextile, all stained and patched - were reinforced with improvised patches cut from skins. Rawhide pads with rough stitching additionally protected the shoulders. A necklace hung over her chest - wire with bird skulls, small bones, and fragments of microcircuits strung on it. Tangled reddish-brown hair was gathered into a tight knot and stained with ash. The girl had about the same build as Kjelle, although she looked ten years younger.
An ideal candidate.

The decision came instantly. Kjelle exhaled, pressed herself against the wall, closed her eyes for a split second. Her heart was thundering in her ears. She ducked into the shadows of the thick cables hanging from the ceiling and moved forward, smoothly stepping over the trash. The metal under her soles occasionally groaned, but the weak wind and the hum of the hunters' voices drowned out the sounds.
The native did not notice the approach.
Finding herself two meters from the target, the Aresian rushed towards it, like a spring that had released itself.
The girl tried to scream, but Kjelle tightly covered her mouth with her palm, simultaneously clasping her neck from behind. And, as the Daughters of Ares had taught during training, she pressed her finger on a point under the jawbone, causing a sharp spasm. The writhing girl, trying to hit her opponent with her elbows and heels, shuddered, her breathing became intermittent. Her large dark blue eyes stared at Kjelle with anger and fear until they became cloudy. The victim went limp and stopped resisting.
Kjelle, without loosening her grip, slowly lowered the girl onto her back, laying her among the rubble. She quickly looked around, checking if anyone had noticed.

All that was heard was the sound of the wind and the distant screams of the natives.
A brief hesitation was reflected on Kjelle's face, followed by cold indifference. No pity - only calculation.
Having undressed the captive, the Aresian woman took off her outer clothing in a matter of seconds. It took a little longer to cut long strips from it. Among the supplies there were also bandages, but in this case the woman considered them less suitable.
Healed old scratches and cuts showed white on sinewy arms and legs, rounded hips, flat stomach.
Embroidered wolf, fox, lynx heads decorated the repeatedly darned T-shirt and shorts. Green and crimson stood out clearly against the olive-yellow linen fabric. The short T-shirt tightly hugged the bust, the neckline almost did not hide the elastic forms. The tight shorts barely reached the middle of the thighs. Still in her black underwear - sturdy synthetic panties and a bra - Kjelle quickly pulled a thick woolen scarf out of her backpack. A few moments later, she tightly tied the northgirl's arms behind her back and wrapped them crosswise with the first piece of fabric she had cut. Having finished tying her ankles and elbows - four turns were needed for each part of the body - Kjelle took a roll of wide, gray and very sticky plaster from the first aid kit.

The Aresian decisively shoved the rolled-up scarf into the captive's mouth, ignoring the angry "mmmh!" Kjelle stuck a sticky rectangle torn from the roll on top of the scarf. It hid the entire lower part of her face between her nose and chin, so that the girl could neither scream nor spit out the gag. Having cast a critical glance at the result, Kjelle nodded with satisfaction. The captive stirred slightly, groaned dully. She looked up from below, breathing heavily through her nose.
Kjelle, without wasting time, checked the bonds. Her elbows were especially tightly bound, and the strap twisted over them prevented any attempts to stretch out her arms. Kjelle secured the free ends of the ankle bindings to the nearest leaky beam.
The captive shook her head desperately, but in vain - the knots held, and her mouth remained securely sealed. The bandage tightly hugged the lower part of her face. A damp strand of hair stuck to her cheek.
With a quiet chuckle, Kjelle threw a torn raincoat, picked up from a nearby pile of junk, over the girl, after which she changed into a trophy jumpsuit. The pieces of skin stank of smoke and animal fat, but overall the new outfit turned out to be surprisingly functional. The woman had braided her hair into two loose plaits, smeared soot on her face, and added a few smears of dirt to her forehead and neck. Without hesitation, Kjelle threw out the worthless junk from her pack - hooks, beads, coals, pebbles - replacing it with her own equipment. Kjelle carefully stuffed the shredded rags and empty backpack into a deep hole between the broken limestone slabs.

The final touch was a pin made from a wooden block, with which the Aresian woman pinned her hair at the back of her head, following the example of the other women in the hunting party. Kjelle pressed her fist to her chin, imitating the local sign of greeting and approval. Leaning over once more, she cast a last glance at the frozen captive and whispered dismissively:
"Don't be so stubborn, brat. Then you'll survive this time."
Having placed the trophy bag over her shoulder, she walked along the crackling branches and brittle grass towards the central storage facility with a confident, slightly heavy gait, slightly swaying her hips. There was a faint smell of burning, and rare firelights could be seen through the gaps in the walls.
Behind, in the shadow of the rubble, the captive lay on her side, watching Kjelle with a furious gaze. Her face was red, her nostrils flared. The girl stubbornly tossed and turned, unable to break free.
"I'm almost there. I changed my clothes, I'm looking for a way into the main complex," Kjelle muttered excitedly, raising the miniration to her lips.
"Acknowledged. I'll try to hold them off for another ten minutes," Alios replied, sounding a little tired.

The woman narrowed her eyes as she passed the thickets of gray bushes and peered into the passage between the tilted limestone columns. With each step, the Aresian felt herself getting into character.
Kjelle looked around cautiously, pressing herself against the lightning-like crack in the concrete wall. The soles of her boots barely audibly scraped along the bars and concrete chips. The woman successfully imitated the unhurried gait of the natives, slightly hunched over and swaying her shoulders in time with her steps.
The dark womb of the complex stank of burning and melted polymers. To the right and left, twisted remnants of scraps of wire that had once connected sensors and alarms flashed. Some pieces stuck out of the walls like claws. A sudden gust of warm air blew from the depths of one of the corridors - Kjelle tensed up inside. She knew that most of the automatic systems had fortunately been de-energized long ago, but she wasn’t going to risk checking.

Around the corner, about ten meters ahead, two skinny, black-bearded locals appeared; they seemed to be heading towards the central building. One was carrying a coil of braided wire, the other was holding an old shotgun by the fore-end. Both cast indifferent glances at the Aresian woman and, not suspecting a substitution, turned into the next tunnel. Kjelle slowed her pace a little, touched her chest with her palm. She didn’t expect to deceive the natives at a closer distance, but she was completely relying on her knife and her combat skills.
The woman checked the beacon - the purple dot of Alios’ beacon was blinking in northern part of the complex. The Karstian apparently continued to maneuver, leading most of the guards away. Kjelle reached a narrow, half-collapsed arch. She had to squeeze sideways to avoid hitting the sharp enameled protrusions.
The Aresian walked along another corridor, past old moldy walls. Something was buzzing annoyingly nearby.

Kjelle casually passed the guard ring perimeter, glancing briefly at the primitive signal totems made of bones, cables and rusty parts hanging on ropes soaked in grease. The distant totem swayed weakly in the draft, creaking unpleasantly. Everything looked chaotic and wild; the locals clearly worshiped ancient relics. Aresianka suppressed a shiver, caused either by the cold or by the feeling of being watched through the walls, with some effort.
Through a narrow gap in the collapsed wall, Kjelle entered the courtyard of the complex. Handicraft clay sculptures and crude frescoes decorated the walls with scenes of a dome burning over the hills and people in protective suits.
The portable radio beacon showed that Alios was approaching from the south. Kjelle's heart began to beat faster.

The roots of desert plants grew through the cracks in the walls. The wind howled overhead.
Quenching her thirst with small sips from an army flask, Kjelle climbed over the slanted reception desk and went down the stairs, not looking at the graffiti on the walls.
On the third level, the corridors widened. This was where the storage department was located. Here it was! Now just a little bit...
Traces snaked across the layer of dust and soot on the floor. Perhaps the natives had been here, or... other hunters.
Kjelle ducked under the ventilation duct...
...and then a crunch was heard behind her.

Kjelle instantly turned around, taking a pneumatic knife out of her belt case. Her nose tickled, her pupils dilated. Silence. Only dust lazily swirled in the air, settling on the floor. The crunch was repeated - closer, to the right of the pyramid-shaped pile of plastic and the human skeleton buried in it.
A tall man emerged from the darkness of the doorway, wrapped in an oily-brown cloak that hid his hands, rustling against the armor plates on his chest. A reddish gleam flashed in the narrow horizontal visor of his steel helmet.
The stranger froze, looking straight at Kjelle. His chin lifted slightly, and his helmet tilted to the side, reminding the Aresian of a bird of prey. And not sure whether to peck or watch.
The familiar buzzing was repeated. The folds of the cloak parted, revealing the jagged tip of a blade. The stranger approached Kjelle in one unnaturally long step - she spun around, drove the forged heel of her boot into the creature's knee. Crack! With a pained groan, it slowly sank to the floor, and Kjelle added a fist to its ribs. The weapon fell out of her unclenched fingers with a clatter.

The next moment, grinning unkindly, Kjelle threw herself under a holey panel about five meters to the left. The pneumo knife described an arc and stuck into the skinny bare neck of the scout, who was hiding, hunched over in three deaths. This smaller version of the first alien drew its stun baton, but didn't have time to use it.
The charge passed through muscle and bone. The body fell to the floor, raising a cloud of dust. Kjelle, wasting no time, dashed up the side stairs to the engineering level.
A minute later, she pressed herself against a peeling metal wall and caught her breath. No one was following her. It smelled of ozone and mold. Torn stickers with pictograms and warnings in a forgotten techno language were scattered on the floor. Melted, twisted cables resembled dried vines. Flat ceiling lights emitted a weak, flickering yellowish light, as if they were about to go out. Generators hummed nearby.

Kjelle was about to turn into the side corridor, when suddenly something barely audible clanged and clinked under her feet. Reflexively, the woman jumped back - and a powerful stream of air covered her, pushing her forward and sideways along a wide, dark corridor. As if a giant hand had grabbed her by the chest and dragged her. A flash of fire, a soft blow to the back. Before her body touched the floor, the transparent dome slammed shut over her head. Metal grips wrapped around her wrists and ankles, snapping shut with a loud squeak of an electromagnetic lock. Narrowing her eyes angrily and gritting her teeth, Kjelle squirmed, trying to free herself, like a panther caught in a trap net, when Alios's alarmed voice, distorted by interference, burst out:
"Kjelle! What the hell?!"
Her lips twitched - either in an attempt to answer, or from helpless irritation. But Kjelle didn't have time to say anything.
At the other end of the room, a capsule half-buried in crystallized chemical sediment began to grind vilely, as if waking up. Red and white lights flashed on its panel.

Alios ran out from around the corner into the hall. His face was distorted, his gloves were splattered with blood, and there were some black spots on his jacket and trousers. The Karstian jumped towards Kjelle, and at the same second he was caught by the air flow. His voice, breaking into a scream, was cut off in about a second and a half. A few seconds later, Alios disappeared in the glow of the closing capsule.
Kjelle felt like every cell of her body was shaking. The insides of the capsule vibrated, the air thickened. A strange warmth filled her chest, engulfed her head, and her forehead became moist with sweat. The woman clenched her teeth, trying to control her breathing.
Her temples began to throb, as if someone was beating kettledrums from inside her skull. Weakness fell upon her, as if all her bones had softened, and a sudden heat surged in - as if from the scorching sun. Then it became... very quiet. But this was the first time the woman had encountered such a kind of silence. Sounds were not simply absent, they seemed forbidden to exist. There was no rustling, not even her own breathing. All that remained was a distorted reflection of Kjelle herself, like in a drop of mercury, on the inner surface of the dome...

EPILOGUE: AFTER THE CHRONOCLASM

Kjelle opened her eyes. A moment, and the quietly crackling capsule opened. The straps loosened, cold air rushed into her face. The woman checked her weapon automatically - the knife was still hanging in its place - and carefully climbed out of her tiny prison. The light coming through the cracks in the ceiling seemed dimmer.
Something had changed in the room. Half a dozen new wires were connected to both capsules, connecting them to some small boxes and prisms. Buttons, levers, tiny screens. Obviously scientific equipment, Kjelle could not say more. The devices mostly gleamed icy, but some parts seemed red-hot.
On the floor, just a meter from the capsule, between it and the equipment, lay a gray-haired and lean man of about seventy, his legs and arms spread limply. A thick greenish robe barely hung on his narrow shoulders. His clean-shaven, thin-lipped face looked serene, despite its deathly whiteness.

Kjelle squatted down, examining the corpse. She felt neither fear nor disgust, fortunately the characteristic smell of decomposition was absent. It was unclear why the scientist had died - she had not noticed any visible wounds on his body. On the other hand, what difference did it make? The main thing was that the stranger was not dangerous.
On the old man's wrist, an old-style wristwatch gleamed - mechanical, with inertial charging. The woman touched the glass, ran her finger over it - the hands froze. She carefully pressed the side button, and the hour hand trembled.
Nearby, on the wall, under a thick layer of soot, a cloudy emergency terminal glowed. Kjelle turned on the scanning function on the miniration - and saw the date of the system synchronization...

"Oh shit..." Kjelle backed away, not taking her rounded, almost owlish, eyes off the cold corpse. "We've been stuck here for almost twenty years!" Her heart jumped into her throat, her palms were damp with sweat. And yet she did not scream.
A staggering Alios emerged from the neighboring capsule, pale and disoriented. Furrowing his brows at the sight of the corpse, the Karstian snorted and dug his fingers into the wall recess. Meanwhile, the woman managed to recover from the shock and calm her frantic heartbeat a little.
"Wait here, okay? Until you come to your senses, I'll study what's going on in the neighborhood," Kjelle suggested, smiling weakly. She was slightly worried about the Karstian's health, but she believed that he would soon recover. The woman knew little about medicine and still could not really help him.
"C-come on, ghh..."
Alios pulled a leather flask from under his jacket and tried to unscrew the lid with disobedient fingers. Leaving him to his fascinating task, the adrenaline-fueled woman, holding a knife at the ready, went on a reconnaissance mission down the corridor. The same one along which an unknown force had dragged Kjelle years ago.

The light-grey polymer on the walls had peeled off in places due to time and dampness. A dim light came from flat panels under the ceiling. The heel of a boot skidded across the damp floor - Kjelle immediately froze, listening. Somewhere in the distance, a steady hum was heard; the smells of metals, dust and chemicals permeated the air. The woman almost coughed from this potent mixture, but somehow restrained herself.
Clenching her jaws, she licked her dry lips.
A chill blew from around the corner. Kjelle, frowning, stopped and, looking around the nearest walls, quickly noticed brown streaks from below. Perhaps rust, perhaps… blood.
The woman took a deep breath through her nose, trying to smell any fresh traces. To no avail.

Peeking around the corner, Kjelle noticed two slightly dark-skinned women behind a thick glass partition, judging by their baggy beige uniforms - technicians or lab assistants. A plump, short, brown-haired woman of about thirty, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, was fiddling with the edge of her sleeve, pointing at the laptop display covered in graphs. Slightly slanted brown eyes were hidden behind round gold-plated glasses. The second woman, almost a head taller and several years older than her colleague, was slightly hunched over and worriedly explaining something, nervously fiddling with her smooth black braid. Biting her lip, she tapped her fingernail on the touchpad. On the square plastic table in front of the couple, some white disks, boxes, pencil cases, jars were neatly laid out - all with markings unknown to the Aresian.
Only fragments of phrases reached her when the interlocutors spoke in raised tones.
"... our great teacher Theomach... on the threshold of the opening of the millennium... fluctuations of the temporal field... went, despite the weak heart... I told you we had to look here, Andra..."

None of them noticed how Kjelle slid to the side door and flew silently into the room. A hard, smug grin played on the lips of the former mercenary.
A step, a jerk, a blow with the edge of her palm to the brunette's neck. The glasses flew off her thin bridge of her nose and thudded dully onto the gray plastic table. The woman sank to the floor, barely managing to exhale hoarsely. The brunette jumped up, fear and incomprehension frozen in her dark green eyes. Kjelle carefully applied the base of the handle of the air knife between the temporal and parietal bones, as they had once taught in the army. A short scream - and the second victim collapsed, entangled in the hems of her robe.

Kjelle paused for a moment, breathing heavily and looking around. The brunette wheezed, blinking frantically, and her colleague had a fresh abrasion on her cheek, her lips parted, her gaze glassy.
The plump woman's long eyelashes fluttered, her frightened gaze focused on the stranger. Her lips parted in a silent "n—", but Kjelle was already hanging over her menacingly and covering her face with her broad, calloused palm.
"Shh, lady. Just a little inconvenience, that's all. Don't make your life difficult."

Kjelle glanced at both captives and chose the taller, broad-shouldered brunette - her jumpsuit should have suited her better. Unzipping the front zipper, the former mercenary unceremoniously pulled the fabric off her shoulders, then her legs. The body of the naked victim turned out to be well-groomed and toned, if you don't count the pale mesh scars on her hips and stomach. Kjelle snorted disapprovingly, discovering a thong and a bra made of purple cotton, dozens of cones, spirals and multi-rayed stars glittered golden on the underwear. Everything was surrounded by some formulas, it looked abstruse and pretentious. But at least this time there were no arrows and hearts - that would have been downright vulgar. In the oval navel there was some kind of sparkling pendant, similar to a crescent moon.
On the right side of the chest The captured clothes had a faded blue patch with a QR identifier and the inscription "STAFF/BIOPHYSICS-S". Kjelle happily pulled off her native clothes and deftly put on a thick, warm suit. She found cushioning pads in the middle of it opposite the groin, and there were slots for tools in the sleeves.

"Sorry, ladies," Kjelle muttered, taking white medical bandages and a gray roll out of her bag. She knelt down next to the brunette - she did not take her plaintive gaze off the pneumatic knife. Kjelle started with the arms of the first victim: with a sharp grip, she twisted them behind her back, wrapped the wrists with a bandage, pulled them up a couple of times and made a simple knot. The familiar, long-mastered work was calming, distracting from the shocking discovery. The victim's ankles were tied in the same way, but Without thinking, Kjelle limited their movements with a loop around their hips, so that the captive could not even crawl. Finally, the Aresian woman taped the brunette's mouth with a strip of tape, from ear to ear. The victim jerked her head, her facial muscles tensed, but her eyes remained closed. Without wasting a second, Kjelle bandaged and shut up the second woman - just like her colleague. The brunette weakly fought back, covering herself with her hands and trying to butt, but she did not stop the Aresian woman.

For a minute, Kjelle froze in front of the mirror screen at the exit. She raised her hood, carefully tucked her strands of hair, and secured them with clips. She pulled a translucent respirator mask out of her jumpsuit pocket and pulled it over her face. The built-in optics immediately adjusted to her vision, and the system interface panel sparkled. A tired, unremarkable woman looked out of the reflection. tech: slightly pale, with drooping corners of her lips and a reddish line from the elastic of her hood on her cheek.
Kjelle chuckled and exhaled through the filter, checking if the mask was working.
The Aresian quickly scanned the running programs on the display. First, a text document, something like an observation log. The last entry immediately caught her attention, causing her fists to clench and her teeth to hiss.
"Day 16. Temporal field stabilized. Initiating the procedure to retrieve test subjects from Horizon Y2. Priority is given to humanoids with the highest survival rates on the Daelli-Liantou scale."

The surveillance footage showed a now-dead old man—presumably the same Theomach—single-handedly connecting equipment to empty capsules. Both women looked on respectfully from a distance.
"Daemon's egghead!" Kjelle rubbed her forehead wearily and glanced sideways at the quiet victims—a professional reflex. "And why the hell did he even start all this..."
A familiar voice came from the capsule hall, sleepy and weak:
"...Kjelle? What the... where are we?.."
"Everything is fine, Lnen. "True, we're a little late for the meeting with Berenika," Kjelle chuckled hoarsely, grabbing a long torque wrench and a small cylinder made of some kind of metal alloy from the table. On one side of the thing was a sweeping inscription in black:
"AMBROSIA-GAMMA 4. EXPERIMENTAL SAMPLES."
The woman remembered some valuable artifacts that Berenika wanted to get her hands on, and immediately checked the contents of the cylinder. Kjelle grinned contentedly, finding a dozen wax-like lumps sealed in plastic, pierced with purple lines.
It's not a fact that this regenerator will help Reka... but at least it will give her a chance.

Congratulations for finally being able to put the final touch to your story. I recall you said you had to use an online translator, so hopefully you like the result. Personally, I think it's good. I believe I can spot a few times when the translator mixed up some words (most notably the word "alien" seems to be used instead of "stranger" or "foreigner" a couple of times in the second part), but I can easily follow the story.

Of course, I was a "beta reader" for these chapters, but reading the officially uploaded version feels different. Revisiting the setting of my very first stories is quite the nostalgic experience.

I admit I never anticipated Kjelle would be the character who would catch someone's attention to the point they'd be willing to write a spin-off starring her. It's always been one of my favorite aspects of sharing stories - to see which elements stick and which don't, and to be surprised when some elements or characters I thought were anecdotal caught people's attention.

She and Alios make a good pair, they carry their story well. It makes me regret retroacitvely I didn't put more efforts into Kjelle's character back in 2019-2020. She comes from a different time, one in which I didn't always put much effort when I created characters and would just re-use characters of the videogame I was currently playing without changing the name. For those interested, Kjelle is based on the eponymous character of Fire Emblem Awakening:

https://fireemblem.fandom.com/wiki/Kjelle

Two different atmospheres in these two parts: first a corporate espionage story, then an action one which ends with sci-fi elements. It's as much an action story as a USB one. Personally, I like USB stories which feature a thick "non-USB" plot - in which the uniform stealings themselves are events but not the end goal.

When it comes to the Uniform Stealing themselves, I have a fondness for the very first one - with that plump employee. For some reason, this woman really caught my attention. I guess the couple of details of her description made her stand out (like the ones of her perfume and high-quality undergarments hinting her social status). Them, and the imagery of her being knocked out and caught mid-fall in seconds. The descriptions are good, detailed enough.

In general, your descriptions (including the ones for non-USB scenery or plot exposition) have something that set them apart. Hard for me to pinpoint exactly what, being a non-native English speaker. Must be the turn of phrase and vocabulary.

I shared my thoughts through PMs before, I never envisioned the Utopia setting to venture into more sci-fi elements. That being said, it's not a bad development, and I like that it sets your story apart. The lore has a few times hinted that at some point in the past the nations of the world had reached a technological peak before destroying themselves during a world war, so some remnants of this advanced technology still being around, studied, and recovered isn't that far-fetched.

(PS: My memories are a bit blurry, but isn't the interlude in Berenika's mansion cut short? I don't quite remember the draft, but the cut seems a bit abrupt so I'm wondering if a few sentences are missing?)