The National Palace is unique on Rylea for having been constructed from imported materials rather than stone quarried from the extensive excavations within the asteroid itself.
It had began its life as the private residence of the asteroid state’s smuggler baron founders, then served a stint as the offices of the ostensibly democratically elected ruling council. Now the impressive marble edifice stood as a museum showcasing bits of the noble culture the Ryleans had bought, stolen, and/or fabricated for themselves: art objects, priceless treasures, historical artifacts, and important documents.
Many of the glittery bits on display within the palace were on permanent loan from their important owners. Why not? With the Rylean sense of laissez-faire and the resultant lax consumer protection regulations, a well-guarded museum was a safer place for them than a bank vault.
Too, the security at the National Palace was the tightest on the planetoid, barring only the Ruling Council’s current headquarters.
There was a counter off to one side of the museum lobby that was euphemistically labeled as “Coat Check”, though as Rylea had no weather worthy of the name, very few people wore coats. The actual purpose was to give museum patrons a chance to divest themselves of personal weapons which were not specifically illegal on the asteroid but which were expressly forbidden within the Palace confines.
Regan Bard strolled blithely (the only way in which she ever strolled) past the Coat Check counter, despite the immense sword on her back, the faux flintlock pistol and knives on her belt, and the grenades and war axe which she had added.
The guard at the multiscanner saw her approaching and held up a hand to halt her, meaning to point her to the Coat Check counter, but she merely waved in return and walked right into the door-like device, emitting a loud “Oof!” as the faint shimmering energy field suddenly turned solid and opaque
“Sorry, sir… uh, ma’am,” the uniformed guard said, correcting himself as he more fully took in the wild spectacle that was Regan Bard. “No weapons or other destructive implements are allowed in the Palace.”
“‘Sir’, if ya please,” Regan said. “Is that a fact? Most museums I’ve ever been to encourage them, like, as a means of making the exhibits more interactive. Art is not meant to be static and separate from the audience, ya know. From the moment an artist chooses to share his vision with the universe, he opens it up to…”
“That’s fascinating,” the guard said. “Really. But, there are people behind you who would like to get through the barrier, so if you could please just go divest yourself of your implements? The counter girl will give you a receipt.”
“Oh, right,” Regan said. “I do have a tendency to go on a bit, don’t I? I remember one time I was servin’ on this ship, the Raging Nor’easter, and we had this coolant leak, like, which was gonna melt the mechanical transmission if we didn’t get it patched, and the head mechanic–I don’t recollect his name–but he was all…”
“Hey, are we moving, or what?” called a voice from several places in back of the line which had formed behind Regan… the voice of Leo Parda, in fact.
“Please, uh, sir,” the guard said to Regan. “If you could just go get that taken care of, so we can let these other folks inside?”
“Oh, right,” Regan said again. “Sorry ’bout that.”
She headed back to the Coat Check. The bottleneck dissolved, the small crowd behind her surged forward, passing through the multiscanner so rapidly that nobody in the control room noticed the attendance counter jumping by two when the dark-furred catman with the knapsack went through. It wasn’t even worth wondering what he had in the bag; the scanner didn’t turn up anything that wasn’t supposed to be inside the museum.
Regan turned over her sword, her knives, her axe, her grenades, and her pistol to the Coat Check counter, as well as several other knives and pistols she had carried concealed about her, and a tube-like device concealed along her left forearm, then she headed back towards the multiscanner. With nothing obstructing the flow of people into the museum, there was no wait, and she stepped confidently halfway through the doorway, hitting the energy barrier again.
“I gave up everythin’ I know about,” Regan complained to the guard. She whirled around and looked about the lobby. “One o’ these dirty feckers must’ve planted somethin’ on me.”
“If you’ll just step over here, sir, I’ve got a hand scanner that should narrow it down,” the guard said.
“I’ll have ya know I’m a very important man,” Regan said.
“Of course you are, ma’a… sir,” the guard said. “Right this way.”
The guard hit a sequence of keys on the scanner gate and the barrier flashed into visibility, with the words “Thank You For Your Patience” floating at eye level.
He then led Regan over to a small sideboard, where he pulled a small plastic rectangle which he proceeded to pass over Regan’s body from the top down. It beeped almost immediately, and Regan pulled the tiny but powerful blascap out of her ear and placed it on a tray.
“Oops! Plum forgot about that one,” she said, grinning sheepishly. The guard nodded and started again, with the machine beeping immediately once more.
“Excuse me,” Regan said, turning her head and pressing on her eye patch. The guard heard a soft popping sound, and then after a moment she turned around again, with a small orb-like sonic grenade. “Forgot about that one, too.”
After she remembered the tiny single-shot laser stick she had attached to the roof of her mouth and the microexplosive concealed in her gold tooth, they proceeded below her neck where it turned out there were knives she didn’t even know she had secreted around her mail shirt, and it had completely slipped her mind that her belt was full of hidden compartments.
The device beeped again just below her belt.
“Hold on, now!” Regan said. “That one’s legal, like.”
The guard held the scanner up to look at its read out.
“According to this, you have an explosive device lodged inside your… uh… vaginal cavity, sir,” he said. “You’re going to have to remove it if you wish to see the Palace.”
“Check me citizenship file,” Regan said. “Designate Regan Bard, Nova Hibernia. I’ve a variance for it.”
“Sir, I’m reasonably certain that you do not have a variance for an explosive device in your vaginal cavity,” the guard asserted. “Now, I can have a privacy screen brought out if you’d like.”
“I do have!” Regan insisted. “This bomb is there for religious purposes.”
“Sir, I’m afraid I cannot believe that,” the guard said.
“Hey! Are ya callin’ me a liar, like?” Regan asked.
“I certainly don’t mean to imply that,” the guard said. “I simply cannot imagine what kind of religious purpose a concealed bomb could possibly have.”
“Well, it’s a bit obvious, isn’t it? I’m a suicide bomber,” Regan said, rolling her eye. “Look, you don’t have to believe me… check me file. It’s all on record.”
“Rylean law doesn’t actually forbid the carrying of concealed explosives,” the guard said. “But variance or not, I still couldn’t let you into the museum with it.”
“Check the file,” Regan said.
“Very well, if it will satisfy you,” the guard said. He touched the molded plastic bud lodged inside his ear. “Clarice, would you send me the citizenship file for Designate…”
“Regan Bard,” Regan said. “Nova Hibernia. Should be the only one.”
“Regan Bard, Nova Hibernia,” the guard said. He stuck the scanner into a slim holster on the left side of his belt and pulled his computer out of the one on the right. “Okay, uh, Mr. Bard… let’s just… uh…”
“What’d I tell you?” Regan asked smugly as the guard scanned through the lengthy document, mumbling key portions of it out loud.
“‘Designate Regan Bard is given full license to carry… the King Regent of the Kingdom, State, and Planet of New Hibernia offers personal guarantee… failure to comply will be interpreted as an act of… ratified by the treaty of… uh…”
“I did tell ya I was a very important man,” Regan said. “So, can I go in?”
“Hold on,” the guard said. “The barrier’s automatic, you see? I can’t disable it for anybody without higher authorization.” He activated his earcomm again. “Mr. Selmar? This is Abrams, at the front gate. I’ve got a visitor here… well… read the highlighted portion of the file I’m sending you.” He tapped out a sequence on the screen of his hand computer. “Yeah. So… kill the scanners? Right. Yeah… no, I agree. Right.”
“Well?” Regan asked, after the guard Abrams cut the connection.
“Well, Mr. Bard, I guess you do get to keep your… uh… device in place,” he said. “Right this way, please.”
“I say, are we going to be kept waiting much longer?” Galatea, at the head of the line backed up behind the barrier, asked the guard, right before Regan shouldered her aside to take her place back.
“Thanks for your patience, folks,” the guard said, hitting a sequence of keys which caused the barrier to fade away completely. He held a button down until Regan had stepped through, then released it, causing the scanner field to shimmer back dimly into view.
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