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It was late when Ghanima left her office that afternoon, having needed to make-up time working on her lesson plans. She pulled her throwing blades out of her target and put them back in her desk, returned her glowglobes to neutral, fluffed the pillows and over-stuffed chairs, and then left without even locking the door.

In the years that Ghanima had been at Fandom, she had grown to trust the people around her, to an extent. When once the the spice melange was kept only in her suite, under lock-and-key, the school itself had withstood so many sieges that Ghanima felt comfortable keeping a small emergency sample in her office, along with her other Sayyadina and Bene Gesserit herbal supplies.

That did not mean she was a fool.

The apothecary chest was one of Bene Gesserit design, each drawer having a unique puzzle lock, which solving then made the physical lock accessible. The cataloging labels in Chinese was Ghanima's own private system, a version of the language so old that few people on Earth spoke it beyond scholars of ancient literature, although a few might be able to read it. It had a place of honor in her office, next to her desk, and was almost as high as she was tall. It would take a miracle for someone to find what they were looking for in there.

A miracle. Or perhaps just the right sort of intelligence and a few tools beyond that of this time-period.

[OOC: For one! NFB PLZ!]

Date: 2015-03-17 03:49 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile]
Just one tool, really. An omnitool. The ultimate cell phone - Swiss Army knife combo. After his old, crappy one had been trashed by the ghost robot, Joker had taken the money he'd gotten for being on Barry's ethics committee and bought himself a shiny, new, real one over Christmas break. Thanks to the galaxy's lax arms control laws, he'd been able to get a military-grade one without much trouble.
[OOC: this isn't as handwavey as it seems. I'd planned to put up an actual post establishing it back around New Year's, and never got around to it.]

As he looked around to make sure no one was watching, slipped on a pair of gloves, and began heading towards Ghanima's office, he began humming the theme from Mission: Improbable to himself. It was almost like a real spy mission! Or heist, maybe. Definitely something worthy of Hollywood. Moving much faster than he normally did -- he hardly even needed the crutches anymore -- Joker dropped a few bottles of rum and a note for the squirrels in the hallway and slipped through the door. Inside, he deployed a drone -- a floating, glowing sphere that would monitor the hall and detect anyone who came near, and stun them with an electric shock if they opened the door.

He didn't read Chinese... but he didn't need to. The galaxy was full of dozens of races living on hundreds of planets, speaking countless languages and dialects. It would be chaos without a way to understand each other. So long as a language had a dictionary available on the extranet, Joker could read it. As he looked at each symbol, a hologram instantly appeared, translating it for him. At least, that was the theory. Ghanima's ancient dialect gave Joker's modern Mandarin dictionary trouble -- but that just meant he had to look for and download others. After a bit of trial and error, he found one that did the job.

Once he found the right drawer, the puzzle gave him a bit more trouble. He took a holo of it and let his omnitool search the extranet for anything similar while he worked on it. It took longer than he would have liked, but to his delight he managed to solve it before the search was complete.

As for the lock itself, that was a piece of cake. Mechanical locks were next to useless in the twenty-second century. His omnitool scanned the interior of the lock, mapping its pins and tumblers, and used its reservoir of omnigel to build a key that fit it perfectly.

Joker took a moment to admire the vial of Spice, and tossed it in the air cockily. He almost fumbled the catch, and bobbled the vial a few times before getting a firm hold on it again. "Shit! Shit shit shit oh fuck shit oh thank goodness!"

After some time to calm the panic, he shut down the drone, slipped through the door, collected the empty bottles of rum, and strode off, this time humming the James Bund theme.


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Ghanima Atreides

October 2016

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