Eye tendrils + Bomb disarming

“ETA on the bomb squad?”

“Ten minutes. They’re still working on disposing of the material found in A3.

“That’s too long,” I said. “I’ll have to deal with the bomb here. Get me a toolkit. The sections I have been passing through should be clear. Funnel evacuations through A3 and maintain a perimeter outside to protect the civilians.”

***

I put my hands up toward the panel, and then I hesitated. I formed an eye on a tiny tendril, and sent it slithering through the crack where the foam met the metal braces. Forming an eye at the end of that, I took a look at what I was facing.

It looked like there was a booby trap on the foam panel the bomb had been placed on. If I lifted it up, the bomb would go off. If I cut it , the bomb would go off.

“I’m going to have to come in from two panels to the right,” I said. “Tell Kid Win and Armsmaster that they’re using a type 94 booby trap, with at least a two panel variance. They may have mixed things up a bit, too.”

***

The moment I was pushed up into the crawlspace, I allowed myself to shift and change, reaching up and clinging to the ceiling. I left a simulacrum of my legs hanging down, but I formed multiple eyes and multiple hands with fingers. Sometimes it was difficult to maneuver inside tight spaces, but that wasn’t a problem for me.

My mind raced as I saw the connections.

***

Creating a half dozen arms, I started to work.

There wasn’t anything actually alien about the design; there were several nasty tampering systems in place, designed to set the thing off if it was moved or if people tried any of the standard procedures. I could see them easily enough, and with multiple limbs, I could work with them quickly enough. I couldn’t actually do everything at the same time like I would have liked to, though; at best multitasking involved jumping back and forth between tasks, and generally people were less efficient at that than simply focusing at one thing at a time.

***

Reforming my top half I leaned down and said, “Who’s the expert here? If talking about which teammates fart helps me focus, isn’t that what I need to do?”

He looked panicked.

I’d already finished, but I didn’t let on.

***

Trap-War