Think, Afelnor, you loathsome toad, he chided himself in the manner of one of his former tutors, Magemaster Kargan, at the Arnor Scholasticate.
"What of the ceiling?" he asked, brightening.
It was the older guard, Emerson, who spoke first. "That doesn't help, I'm afraid. The corridor ceiling's armoured as standard, and then you'd still need to get through the one in front of the door."
"I don't want to get into the bloody corridor!" the Questor shouted, forgetting his formal Mage Speech. "I want to get into the damned laboratory! Can I get into the ceiling here and crawl over to there, and then break in through that ceiling?"
Emerson tweaked his chin. "Well, I don't think the room ceilings are all armoured, so there's a chance, but it'd be a tight fit. You've got ventilation conduits, power and signal cables, not to mention the mechanisms for the shields and the air control baffles."
"So it's tight, but is it possible?" Grimm was almost beside himself with frustration at the two guards' slow mental processes. "Think, man!"
"Well, I don't know; I never tried it," Emerson sniffed, shrugging. "Take a look, if you want. You've got a maintenance access panel right here."
The ceiling was just out of the mage's reach, and he was inches taller than his two chaperones. Regardless of any semblance of dignity, he jumped, arms outstretched, and the panel bobbled, but settled back into position. Crouching down, he leapt upwards once more and, this time, the metal sheet clattered clear of the square opening.
"Don't just stand there," Grimm snapped. "Give me a hand up, one of you!"
Tattler knelt, and clasped his hands like a basket. "Here you go, Questor."
Grimm placed Redeemer on the ground and put one foot into the guard's hands. With an obliging shove, Tattler propelled him towards the ceiling, and Grimm took firm hold of the rim of the aperture. With some effort, he hoisted himself into the ceiling void, curling like a worm in order to scramble inside.
Once safely inside, Grimm summoned Redeemer to his side, and it disappeared from the room.
"How'd you do that?" Tattler asked, his eyes wide in astonishment as the staff disappeared from the room.
"You don't want to find out," Grimm replied. "It wasn't an easy thing to learn, I can assure you."
Emerson's description of the ceiling void as 'cramped' seemed to be an understatement. Everywhere Grimm looked, he saw a snarl of tubes, pipes, boxes and cables, and he could not see a way through.
There's always the roof…
Grimm smothered this thought at birth; he knew this would plunge him into the frigid, thin, debilitating atmosphere of the mountaintop, and he had fallen foul of this hostile environment before. He edged forward with care, seeking an opening.
"Watch what you are doing, human!" came a muffled, indignant squeak from his pocket, and Grimm remembered the small passenger in his pocket; it was often so easy to forget that the tiny demon was concealed in his clothing.
Nonetheless, the resourceful Thribble had, on occasion, proved himself to be a valuable addition to the retinue. He might be of considerable help in his search for a suitable route. The demon could slip through the tiniest aperture.
"Thribble, would you be so good as to try to find a route for me through this metal jungle? I would surely appreciate it."
"Work, work, work!" the imp twittered. "Thribble, kindly do this; Thribble, would you mind doing that?" he grumbled, his stubbly head bursting from Grimm's pocket. "Very well, human, I will see if there is a space sufficient for your gargantuan bulk."
Extricating himself from the folds of Grimm's silk robe, Thribble dropped to the metal floor with a faint thump. He leaned back to look the mage in the eyes, his expression dark.
"I am sorry to sound peremptory to you, Thribble," Grimm said, forcing his voice to calmness. "It's just that I have an awful lot on my mind at this moment. I would very much appreciate your co-operation in this matter."
Thribble snorted. "As you will, human; I expect some good tales from this little adventure, mind you."
"As quickly as you can, demon," Grimm said, his voice almost strangled by his emotions. "If you would be so kind," he added, seeing the netherworld denizen tossing his head in nascent affront.
Thribble opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without uttering a word. He darted away with surprising speed, hopping and bounding like a rubber ball possessed by some restless spirit.
****
"Ah, now you are mine," muttered Deeks, smiling. "Open up, my darling; submit to your lord and master."
A screen appeared on the monitor, bearing the simple words 'SYSTEM ACCESS GRANTED. ENTER OPTION.'
Deeks, humming to himself, selected the option 'SECURITY', followed by 'MODIFY PARAMETERS'.
I'm in!
The Tech had all but forgotten the scalpel-wielding girl, revelling in the feeling of power his technical prowess gave him.
"Let me out, right now!" Drexelica screamed, bringing Deeks back into the real world. "I'll use this thing if I have to," she added, brandishing the wicked-looking blade.
Deeks eyed the scalpel and swallowed; the girl's eyes were wide, and he could not be sure if she were blustering or not.
"Drexelica, my dear," he cried, waving his hands in growing panic, "don't do anything stupid! The security barriers are still down, and we can't get out just yet."
"Then I'll kill you!" the girl yelled, stepping towards him with a purposeful air. Deeks waved his hands in sudden panic, feeling his heart pounding: he hated blades.
"If you kill me, you'll never get out!" he screamed. "I can do something about it, if you'll let me."
"Very well," the girl said, her eyes hooded. "I'll be watching you, so don't try to trick me."
Deeks suppressed a smile; she would have no idea if he were tricking her or not.
"Here we go," he said, crossing his legs in a casual manner; in fact, he was ensuring his feet were not touching the floor.
He tapped on the keyboard before him. Drexelica stiffened and dropped the silver blade and the comb, shuddering as the high voltage gripped her body. Deeks knew she would not be seriously hurt, since the low-current shock was intended only to kill vermin. Nonetheless, she staggered, disorientated, when he cut off the charge.
"Now, there's no need for all that unpleasantness, darling," he crooned, rising to his feet. "You and I could make such sweet music together."
Deeks ran his hand through his thinning hair, as if this might make him appear more attractive to the girl. With a decisive swing of his right foot, the Tech swept the comb and the scalpel to the far wall, out of her reach.
"I… I h-hate you, you f-fat, ugly, horrible pig," Drexelica spat, reeling a little as she struggled to control her voice. "I'll never lie with you, for as long as I live!"
"That's no way to greet a friend," the red-faced Technician said, with a nasty smile on his face, "especially a friend who cares so much for you. It's so nice to hear that you care so little for Questor Grimm, since he may die very soon. But, of course, you won't care about that, will you?"
"What do you mean?" the girl gasped. "I only want to be free. I don't care about them."
Deeks knew she was lying, since she would no longer meet his gaze.
"In a few keystrokes, I can take control of the whole troop of security guards," he said. "I hold their destinies beneath my very fingers. They'll be like putty in my hands, and they'll do exactly as I command. They have all kinds of unpleasant weapons, and they'll fight until death, if I tell them to. There are over seventy-five people I can control with a single command. They'll all attack at once, and I wouldn't care much even for a magic-user's chance against that sort of massed assault.
"Your mage friends may become thorns in my side at some time in the future, so I'd really rather dispose of them now. Since you care nothing for them, this won't pose any hardship to you. I can do that with a single voice command, which I can give from this microphone before you can move a muscle."