Agent of the Sway: Induction - Part Four

     "Dr. Sloth will have my hide if he finds out I helped you," he worried.

     "As long as we succeed, he will never discover the truth," Faversham reassured him.

     "Who exactly is he?" Clayton asked.

     "Grimilix is a programmer here on the station," Faversham explained. "He has hand in designing most of the doctor's technology, and knows the station back to front."

     "I can't get you close to the Space Faerie - she's too heavily guarded," Grimilix told them.

     "Just as well," Faversham said. "It would be better if she was not made aware of our involvement. There must be a way to disable her containment field, correct?"

     "A station wide power blackout would do that," Grimilix suggested. "It forces power away from non-essential systems to protect life support and gravity. It would only shut off power to containment fields for a second or two though."

     "That will be all the Space Faerie needs," Faversham agreed. "How can we create such a blackout?"

     "That's the difficult part," Grimilix added. "You'd have to access the power coils. There are three of them, but destroying one would force the backup systems to kick in. None are on public levels, though, and the doctor has upped security with all that he's planning."

     "We can deal with security," Faversham said.

     "Are you sure?" Grimilix asked. "These aren't Neopia Central thugs - he's got robots programmed to kill on sight down there."

     "We can deal with security," Faversham repeated with a smile.

     "Well, alright then," Grimilix said, tapping on a metal grate on a nearby wall. "You'll need to take the air vents down two levels. That's where the nearest power coil is. They aren't terribly robust things, a shot from a blaster will probably knock it out - you can find one on the security down there you'll be dealing with. Once the lights go out, run. Every single guard and robot on the station will be heading your way. If you're caught, we don't know each other, clear?"

     "Of course - the same goes for you," Faversham replied with a curt nod.

     Grimilix nodded back and then scuttled off back to his duties. Clayton prized the grate off the wall and the two of them proceeded downwards.

     "These are spacious," Clayton observed. "I've crawled through far tighter gaps than this in the city."

     "Say what you like about Dr. Sloth, his sense of deep space architecture is second to none," Faversham replied with a wry smile. "Here, this is the level."

     With a swift kick from Clayton, they were free of the vent system, and climbed out into a far less well lit area of the station.

     "These robots... I've never dealt with anything like that before," Clayton whispered as he crept along in Faversham's wake.

     "To tell the truth, neither have I," Faversham confessed. "But there is a popular saying - speak softly, and always carry a big stick."

     He grasped his walking cane closer to his body as a whirring noise came closer from around the corner.

     Clayton only got a brief glimpse of the contraption as it emerged - it looked somewhat like a green Tuskaninny, rolling about on wheels and with metallic pincers for hands. Faversham brought the cane down hard on the neck of the robot, severing the connection clean off. The robot depowered, slumping forwards, and Faversham recovered a blaster from the metallic pincers.

     "Simple," Faversham said, straightening out his jacket. "Onwards then, the power coil should be up ahead."

     A room up ahead that was marked 'Danger: Strictly No Admittance' was clearly the place they were looking for. The door slid open automatically as they drew close, revealing the singular power coil within. It was the size of a house, pulsing with a white electric energy and sending off the odd spark.

     "Let us hope that Grimilix was right about it only needing a blaster. I neglected to bring any plastic explosives," Faversham said, readying the sight of his blaster on the coil.

     He fired a single shot, and thankfully it was all that was needed. The coil exploded, showering the pair in a hail of sparks and glass. The lights went off immediately, and for a few seconds it was deathly quiet.

     Then red lights suddenly flicked on and sirens began to blare.

     "Where do we hide now?" Clayton asked.

     "Hide?"

     "Grimilix said to run!"

     "Yes, he did," Faversham smirked. "You must learn to trust me if we are to work together, Clayton. We stand our ground."

     "But every guard on the station will be coming here!" Clayton shouted.

     "For now," Faversham replied calmly. "Trust me, Clayton. I have done this sort of thing before."

     On cue, the doors to the room slid open and a dozen guards and robots rushed in, blasters trained on the pair.

     "Drop your weapons!" a Grundo barked.

     Faversham complied.

     Over the guard's radio, a voice crackled.

     "This is a code red, the Space Faerie is free! Repeat, the Space Faerie is free! All hands to the mutation ray!"

     A few of the guards exchanged looks, clearly torn between orders and apprehending the pair now in front of them. The robots however, blind to the morality of the situation, turned as one and rushed out. The voice came over the radio again, and the guards decided to follow suit.

     "Good. Shall we go?" Faversham said as if the entire thing had been a picnic.

     At a casual pace, he led Clayton back up to the amusement level, carefully replacing the air vent grates as they went. A crowd was already gathered at the window into space, looking out at the Space Faerie's attack on Sloth and his mutation ray. They cheered as a blast from the Faerie appeared to cripple the ray, sending it drifting off into space.

     "Should we go and join in the celebrations?" Clayton asked.

     "No," Faversham replied firmly. "It is always best that the general public are kept unaware of our existence and involvement. Especially when Faeries are involved."

     "Why?"

     "We work for the greater good of Neopia," Faversham explained. "Sometimes this is not the same thing as the moral good. Sacrifices must sometimes be made for the good of the whole. The Faeries, and in particular Queen Fyora do not agree with this viewpoint. They believe our organisation died a millennium ago - we would rather not have them learn the truth."

     "So what? We just go back down to your mansion and act like nothing happened?" Clayton asked.

     "Exactly," Faversham replied. "We do not seek the accolades of success, merely success in and of itself. Besides, there will be further tasks to complete. Neopia rarely stays the same for long. My organisation will always have work for you, if you are willing."

     "Well, it's not like I can go back to the Guild now," Clayton considered. "Do I at least get to know the name of the organisation I am working for?"

     "No," Faversham replied bluntly. "Secrecy is our strength. If, in due course, you are to be made a member, you may yet be told. But for the foreseeable future, you work for me and only me."

     ***

     Three months passed after the fall of Dr. Sloth. The newspapers claimed that Sloth had drifted off into deep space, but Faversham assured Clayton that he would return, and soon. On the plus side, the Thieves Guild had indeed relocated to Terror Mountain in the meantime, meaning Clayton was safe to walk the streets of Neopia Central once more.

     Faversham had offered him a room in the Hills mansion, one which Clayton readily accepted. He wasted away the days performing seemingly unimportant tasks and reconnaissance for Faversham. It was only after three months that, late one evening, another Crokabek arrived at the library window.

     "It appears Dr. Sloth has resurfaced," Faversham announced after reading the note. "Maraqua is in danger."

     "Mar-what?" Clayton asked.

     Faversham gave one of his customary chuckles.

     "Remember how I said there were lands beyond the desert?" he said. "Well, there are more than just that. Places hidden high in the mountains, below the very rocks of the planet, and below the seas. Maraqua is an underwater kingdom off the coast of Mystery Island. We, that is, my organisation, had scheduled it to be discovered by Professor Chesterpot very soon - you know the one, part of the band of scholars calling themselves the Seekers. They work out of the Museum currently. Discovered the Catacombs a few years back - but it appears Dr. Sloth is interfering. We cannot allow him to hinder our plans."

     "I can't breathe underwater," Clayton pointed out.

     "Neither can the Professor," Faversham countered. "There are means of survival down there, if you have the right equipment. But no matter, our involvement in this matter does not require us to actually visit Maraqua. We need only to arrange a distraction to take Dr. Sloth away from the city while Professor Chesterpot is liberated."

     "So what do you need?" Clayton asked.

     "I shall charter a boat to Mystery Island," Faversham explained. "I need you to obtain some merchandise for me. Don't give me that look, Clayton, it's not from the Defenders this time."

     "Where then?"

     "The National Neopian Museum," Faversham said, handing over the scroll.

     There was a drawing of a pendant on it.

     "You'll find it in the magical research department, in the basement," Faversham supplied helpfully.

     "Wizards!?" Clayton protested. "You're sending me up against wizards!?"

     "Clayton, you are a thief," Faversham smirked. "If you are any good at your job at all, you won't actually encounter anyone. Besides, most of the wizards at the museum are bumbling old fools that even the Order of the Red Erisim wouldn't accept. You could dance the foxtrot in front of their noses and they wouldn't even wake up from their naps. This should prove no difficulty."

     "That's easy for you to say," Clayton replied. "You only have to charter a ship."

To be continued...