Renegade Star Origins Box Set: Books 1-4
Date: 2019-06-26 07:00:00+00:00
Description: This set contains all four books in the Renegade Star Origins series, with over 1000 pages of pulse pounding scifi action and intrigue. Nameless - Abigail and Clementine were just a couple of orphans looking for a home. But when the two girls witness something terrible, they have no choice but to leave their orphanage and go into hiding. The only person willing to take them in is a man named Mulberry, but his home isn't the safest place for two innocent children. Abigail and Clementine quickly discover that their new caretaker is the head of a guild of assassins, and the two are thrown into a
Publisher: Variant Publications

J. N. Chaney

Copyrighted Material

The Renegade Origins Series Copyright © 2018 by Variant Publications

Book design and layout copyright © 2018 by JN Chaney

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

www.jnchaney.com

1st Edition

Books in the Renegade Star Universe

Renegade Star Series:

Renegade Star

Renegade Atlas

Renegade Moon

Renegade Lost

Renegade Fleet

Renegade Earth

Renegade Dawn

Renegade Children

Renegade Union

Renegade Empire

Renegade Descent (Out Now)

Renegade Rising (July 2019)

The Renegade Origins Series:

Nameless

The Constable

The Constable Returns

Warrior Queen (Out Now)

The Last Reaper Series:

The Last Reaper

Fear the Reaper

Blade of the Reaper (Out now!)

Wings of the Reaper (July 2019)

The Orion Colony Series:

Orion Colony

Orion Uncharted

Orion Awakened

Orion Protected (Out Now)

The Fifth Column Series:

The Fifth Column

The Fifth Column: The Solaras Initiative (June 2019)

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The Renegade Origins Series

Books 1-4

J.N. Chaney

Contents

Nameless

Content Disclaimer

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Author Notes

The Constable

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Epilogue

The Constable Returns

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Warrior Queen

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Renegade Star Preview

Books in the Renegade Star Universe

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About the Author

Nameless

Content Disclaimer

The following book contains a brief scene depicting child abuse. This occurs in the first chapter. If you are an abuse survivor and do not wish to experience this part of the story, please skip ahead to chapter 2.

Additionally, this book contains graphic violence, foul language, and tense situations. It is intended for adults over the age of 18 years old.

Have you experienced abuse?

If you are an abuse survivor and are experiencing depression or would simply like to talk to someone, there are several resources available.

For online therapy or counseling, please check out BetterHelp.com. They’ll match you with a professional, licensed counselor right away. You can type to them, call them, or even skype. No matter where you are or what your situation is, help is never as far away as it seems.

For sexual abuse, check out https://safehelpline.org. Like Better Help, you can Live chat with someone right away, whether on the phone or in chat. Please, do not wait to find help. All it takes is a few minutes to get started.

For Friends and Family of Abuse Survivors:

If you know someone who needs help and aren’t sure what to do, please read this article on how to help a friend who is being abused.

Not sure how to tell if someone you know is suffering from domestic violence? Read this article to learn how to spot abuse, what you can do, and how you should react.

1

The refectory smelled like fish and old bread.

Clementine nudged me in the ribs with her elbow and nodded at the food line. “Hey, Abby,” she whispered. “They got a new serving lady. Check it out.”

“Really?” I asked, dropping my jaw in disbelief. I glanced up and across the room, spying a woman I’d never seen before. She dropped a scoop of brown sludge onto an eight-year-old’s plate.

“I heard it’s because the old one was stealing the donations and hiding it in her room,” Clem said with her mouth full of food.

I glanced at a few of the nuns, who had lined up together near the far end of the dining hall. “Wow,” I muttered and then secretly wondered if the food would somehow taste differently today.

My eyes flicked upward again. Sister Mable had just entered, holding a pad. It was one of the only tech pieces allowed here. The sisters liked to say that holos and pads were bad for the soul, but Sister Mable used them when she couldn’t find a physical copy of a certain book. It wasn’t too popular with the rest of the nuns, but I didn’t think she cared.

Another thing she used the pad for was the adoption records. That was why everyone’s eyes were on her at the moment.

“Good evening, children!” Mable said once she reached the head of the room.

“Good evening, Sister Mable,” came the mixed response. The younger kids, sitting closer, responded enthusiastically. The older kids only mumbled. After all, we’d been through this routine a hundred or more times, and our expectations were close to zero.

Mable cleared her throat before speaking. “One of our top donors messaged me to say that they’re coming to visit us tomorrow, so I want everyone on their best behavior when they arrive. They’ll be here in the morning to sit in on your classes. Let’s do our best to show how thankful we are for their generosity.” She smiled broadly, looking over the whole group at once.

I still wasn’t sure how she did that.

Mable smiled, and it seemed to set the room at ease. She was older but not gray yet. I’d tried to ask her about her life, but she always changed the subject.

I liked Mable quite a bit, though, as did everyone else in this place. It was hard not to.

She began to leave, and I jumped up from my seat, moving quickly to intercept. There was still food on my plate, and I knew full well that someone else would gobble it up by the time I got back.

“Sister Mable?” I called, catching her attention.

Her covered head whipped around to see me, and she offered me that smile again. It made me feel warm and annoyed at the same time, like nothing I could do or say would affect her at all.

“Yes, Abigail?” She made a point of greeting every child by name, unlike the rest of the adults. They only remembered a few of us, like how Sister Mackavoy always used Clementine’s name but only called me “child.”

I flushed and looked at my feet. “These donors coming tomorrow, do you think they’ll, um, want to adopt?”

Mable tilted her head, pausing for a second before coming closer to lay her hand on my shoulder. “To tell you the truth, they didn’t say. But it’s always a possibility. They already have a child of their own, but they may have it in their hearts to bring another member into their family. Let’s be optimistic, shall we? One never knows what the future will bring.”

If they were looking to adopt, it made sense that they would want a younger child. There was a reason why kids older than ten were almost never adopted.

I smiled but felt a sinking feeling in my chest.

Mable seemed to read my mind, and her hand squeezed my shoulder gently. “Chin up, Abigail. Keep your head held high. There is a family out there for all of you. We simply need to find it.”

I scowled. “There was a family for me. They just didn’t want me in it.”

The squeeze tightened. I looked up at Mable, and she glanced down at me with firm yet kind eyes. “Then they weren’t the family for you. Stay true to yourself, my dear. The gods always bless those with kindness and honesty in their hearts.”

I’d heard things like that a hundred times before. Coming from Mable, though, I somehow wanted to believe them. I put on a brave smile, fighting back the tears that had begun to form.

In a way, I did have a family, even if it was only the other kids in this orphanage.

Growing up here was all I remembered. I had been given away too young to know my parents. I had vague memories of a brown-haired woman, an uneven smile, and the smell of cinnamon, but I didn’t know if those were real.

It was probably just a dream.

I walked back toward the table and got about halfway there when the bell rang, telling us it was time to head back to the dorms. All the children got in line. As I joined them, I felt Clementine’s hand slip into mine, giving me a lukewarm piece of bread.

“Saved you a roll,” she whispered as we started moving toward the exits. “What was all that about anyway?”

“Just needed to talk with Sister Mable about something,” I said, feeling my belly rumble with sudden hunger. I fought the urge to gobble down the bread, choosing to save it for when we were back in our dorm.

“It must have been important,” Clementine said, careful to keep her voice down.

“It was,” I whispered back, giving my friend the same warm smile I’d seen on Sister Mable, and suddenly, I felt okay.

* * *

I turned in my bed, looking at Clementine in hers. “All I’m saying is that even if we don’t get adopted, we still have the chance to get into one of those Union schools.”

“What good is that?” she asked.

“It just means we don’t need a family to make it,” I explained.

Clementine turned in her bed, and even through the dark, I could see the annoyed look on her face. “Yeah, and you don’t need a stupid flipping shuttle to get to the other side of a planet, but it sure helps.”

My eyes widened. “Clementine,” I whispered. “You better be careful before one of the sisters hears you using bad words.”

“And you notice how I’m just an angel when they’re around?” Clementine tucked her hands under her chin and smiled adorably.

She did have a gift. She could fake the innocent little girl routine on demand. With her smooth skin, full lips, and straight black hair, she looked like one of the angels painted on the windows downstairs.

Unlike me. I had trouble keeping my unruly blonde hair out of my face. With my pale skin, everyone seemed to take turns asking if I was sick or not.

Sometimes, I thought it was weird that Clementine and I were friends. We’d had neighboring beds for as long as I could remember, so maybe it was just a coincidence. She was outgoing, impulsive, and energetic, and I wasn’t.

“It’s just, we’ve been waiting here all our lives, and it makes me think that nobody wants us,” I whispered. I leaned back in my bed, looking up at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell what this room used to be. It was tall, with massive windows that stretched across the whole wall, and long enough to provide space for two rows of single beds.

“You need to stop it,” Clementine grumbled, laying her head on her hands. “It’s like you’ve given up already. We have plenty of time.” I heard the sound of fabric rubbing on fabric and turned my head to see her stepping off her bed and finding her slippers. “I’m going to get some cookies.”

I propped myself up on my elbow and tilted my head. “Cookies? You have cookies?”

Clementine was already on her feet. “The lunch lady that got fired had to turn in all the food that she’d been saving. I know where they put it. You in?”

I slipped out from under my blanket and sat up, my feet dangling from the edge of the bed. “I can tell you that the sisters aren’t too happy with girls who wander the halls after bedtime.”

“All the sisters have turned in for the night already,” said Clementine.

I leaned forward. “They have a night watch—”

“I’m going whether you’re coming or not. And I’m not saving any for you.”

I rolled my eyes before slipping out of bed and finding my slippers. We quietly made our way to the heavy wooden door, which was cracked open at all times. It was a quick trip down a flight of stairs to the kitchen. We scurried down the steps as quietly and as quickly as we could.

No one was out right now, so we made it to the kitchen in under five minutes. It wouldn’t be long before someone came along, so we’d have to be quick and snag our cookies while the snagging was good.

The food, mostly donated non-perishables, was stacked high on the shelves. “In here,” Clementine whispered, kneeling under one of the shelves deep in the back and producing a pair of sealed plastic packets.

She tossed me one, and I opened it quickly. The smell of the baked goods had my mouth watering, and not only because I’d left my dinner unfinished. The rare smell of cocoa and walnuts made my stomach growl, and I took one of the six treats and crammed it into my mouth.

“So good,” Clementine whispered, biting into the cookie.

“Almost makes you happy that they caught her, doesn’t it?” I asked.

Clementine snickered, nibbling on her second one. “I could eat these all night.”

“We can always come back down tomorrow night for another—” I paused, my head snapping around to face the door that we had entered the kitchen through. Clementine was looking in the same direction, which told me that she had heard it too; a door opening and closing somewhere close by.

“Get under the counter,” Clementine whispered urgently, tossing her half-empty packet underneath as she spoke. “If they ask, I’ll just tell them that I came to get some water. They won’t like it, but it won’t be a problem. It’s not like they can tell us not to drink water, right?”

I shrugged and didn’t argue. Clementine was a quicker thinker and a better liar than me. She was our best chance to get out of this free and clear.

I ducked under the kitchen counter, grabbing Clementine’s cookies and curling up. I watched the shadows of the room as the distant footsteps grew closer. After a few short seconds, the door swung open, and I saw a figure step inside.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice asked. “Clementine? What are you doing up and about at this hour?”

“Sister Mackavoy,” Clementine said, and she sounded surprised. No, almost afraid. “I-I just needed a glass of water. I’ll go back to bed now. Um, if that’s okay.”

I didn’t like Mackavoy very much. Few of the girls did. I didn’t like how she always seemed to find something for me to do—to keep my hands from being idle, she said.

Mostly, I didn’t like how she always took Clementine away to her prayer room. She called Clementine her “special helper,” but I didn’t understand what that meant or why she needed one. Later, when I would ask Clementine about it, she would always change the subject.

“Nonsense, my dear,” said Mackavoy. I could see from the shadows that she had stepped in closer, her hand coming up to stroke Clementine’s hair. “I was just on my way to fetch you.” The sister’s voice had taken on a warm, strange quality.

“Oh, of-of course, Sister Mackavoy,” Clementine said in a soft, suddenly feeble tone. “If we must.”

“We certainly must, my dear,” said the sister. “Now come along.” She wrapped her arm around Clementine’s shoulder, and they started walking toward the door.

Mackavoy turned back around before they reached the hall to turn off the light. When she did, I saw her pause for a moment, shifting her weight as she leaned in my direction. “Now who’s there under the counter?”

I froze with a sick feeling in my stomach. There was no way she could see me, right? I wasn’t moving or making any sounds. I wasn’t—

“I can see your foot, child,” Mackavoy said, letting a warning note enter her voice. “Come out.” The nun stepped in closer.

The stern voice jolted me from my thoughts, and I complied quickly. I stood up, still holding both packets of cookies, my back straight as I kept my eyes low.

Mackavoy shook her head. “I’m so disappointed in you, child. Stealing from the orphanage’s food stores is a very serious offense.” She came closer, dragging Clementine with her, and she grabbed my chin, forcing my head up to look at her.

She seemed so angry, but there was something more to it, like a hunger in her eyes.

“Only bad girls steal from the pantry,” she said. “And bad girls must be punished. Wouldn’t you agree?” She glanced over her shoulder at Clementine.

“Y-yes, Sister Mackavoy,” Clementine said, her eyes wide and afraid.

The woman turned back to me. “Do you agree, child?”

“Yes, Sister Mackavoy,” I answered. I tried to swallow but found my throat dry. We never should have come down here.

“Good,” the sister said. Her finger moved from my chin to my lips, then to my cheek. Her fingernail hurt when she pressed it against my skin, but I tried not to flinch. “Come now, the both of you. We need to see you punished for your transgressions. The gods are not pleased with you, and we must rectify this.”

She turned around, putting her hand on my shoulder and pushing me in front of her. Oddly, we were heading toward Mackavoy’s room, not the prayer rooms on the other side of the massive building. A cold feeling crept into my gut and spread to my arms.

I looked around as we entered through the wooden door. Clementine kept her eyes on the floor, with her hands clenched and her body tense as she walked to the nearby couch against the far wall. I’d never seen my friend look like that, and I couldn’t shake the sick feeling of dread in my belly. I regretted every step I’d taken since we’d left the dormitory.

“Clementine knows what to do,” said Mackavoy. “Follow her lead and take a seat.” Despite the politeness of her tone, the hand on my shoulder was tight and firm, her fingers digging into me. She pushed me towards a couch, causing me to briefly stumble before I caught my footing and continued forward.

I sat beside my friend on the sofa—dark red with a purple trim—and the nun smiled, giving Clementine’s hair a stroke before finally shaking her head at the both of us.

“Now, petty thievery might not seem like such an awful thing, but stealing a crumb is the same as stealing a loaf. All sin is the same in the eyes of the gods, and so you must receive the same punishment too.” She walked away from us and went to her dresser, opening the highest drawer and retrieving a wooden paddle.

My eyes snapped to Clem. “W-what’s that for?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

Clementine said nothing.

I looked back at Mackavoy, and she turned to us, a smirk on her face. She slid her free hand along the edge of the wooden paddle like she was examining it.

“I-I’m sorry, Sister Mackavoy!” I exclaimed. “We won’t do it again! I promise!”

The woman held up a finger to her lips. “Now, now, child. You must be quiet, or the penance will increase.”

I could feel my heart beating as my breathing intensified, but I still found the strength to shut my mouth. Maybe if I did what she said, she’d let us go. Maybe this was just a test to see if we were obedient. Maybe this was all for show.

“Clementine,” said the nun. She pointed at her, twirling her finger.

Clementine stood up, a flat expression on her face, and began to unlace her gown. It gently fell to the floor, and I closed my eyes.

I felt terror jolt through me. This had to be a dream. I must still be in my bed, wrestling with a nightmare, trying to wake up.

“Abigail,” Mackavoy said, raising the paddle and pointing it at me. “Your turn.”

“B-but…” I was having a hard time speaking, the lump in my throat getting bigger, choking my voice. What was this feeling I had? I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” said the nun, her tone less sweet, less gentle, like all the goodness had drained from her in the last few minutes, gone to some other place.

I looked at Clem again, trying to get some kind of response, but she only stood there, staring forward, an empty expression replacing the girl I knew. I forced myself to stand, then undid my lace, taking my time with it as I tried to find a way out of this.

But what could I do? I was being punished for something I did. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t a lie. I’d stolen food, so it was my fault, wasn’t it? If one of the other sisters saw this, they’d probably agree that I deserved it.

I tucked my arms from the sleeves and let the garment fall to my feet, and I closed my eyes again.

“Now, sit,” said Mackavoy.

I swallowed but did as she said. I wanted to go away from here. Something about this felt wrong.

“You girls all think you deserve everything,” the sister continued. She eyed the two of us, letting her words linger for a while. “You deserve nothing. Do you think I had it this easy when I was your age?”

“No, Sister Mackavoy,” said Clementine. Her voice was almost monotone.

With my eyes still closed, I tried to imagine another place, another time. I did it sometimes during class when I got bored. But this wasn’t dull. It had my full attention in all the worst ways. I’d have to struggle to escape it, imagining myself anywhere but inside this room with this woman.

“So very ugly,” said the woman. I peeked my eyes open to see her scowling at us, slowly shaking her head. She looked disgusted, like we were garbage. “Clementine, turn around and accept your punishment.”

Clem got up and did as she was told, placing her hands on the sofa as the sister raised the paddle. I closed my eyes and turned away. I heard the paddle come down hard, the sound of it so loud it filled the chamber like a thunderclap. I flinched with every blow, increasingly afraid as my friend received her blows. Through it all, Clem barely reacted. She never made so much as a grunt or a cry. No quivering sounds. She was stronger than me, braver. She was like a different person, and I didn’t know why.

The whole time, I pictured myself in a place with my mother and father. They were laughing and smiling, and I was doing the same. We were happy together, so far away from this place, maybe on another planet in another star system. I could almost smell my mother’s perfume, a blend of roses and jasmine. It was exotic. A perfect fit for a woman so beautiful.

“Abigail,” a voice said, piercing my daydream and forcing me to stir. “It’s your turn now.”

I cracked my eyes open, slowly looking at Clementine at my side. She had turned around and sat quietly in her spot, saying nothing.

Mackavoy raised the paddle. “On your feet, girl.”

“I, um, p-please don’t, um—” I could barely get the words out, as though the fear had scrambled my brain and twisted my tongue. The anticipation of the pain was overwhelming me. I wasn’t sure I could handle this.

“Now!” snapped Mackavoy, causing me to jerk away. Her tone was so hateful, so loud.

“B-but, I—” I pulled back, sinking into the sofa.

“Enough!” She grabbed my wrist and dragged me from the seat, spinning me around with more force than I could resist. She was so big compared to me, and so much stronger. I couldn’t do anything to stop this if I wanted to. I was just a kid.

“B-but—” The tears came at last, overwhelming my senses. A warm flush ran across my cheeks as the reality of what was about to happen finally settled. This was going to hurt, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I closed my eyes, still crying, and the tears flooded out of me faster than they had in a long time. Think about Mother and Father, I told myself, trying to find the images again. A dark-haired woman, beautiful curls and green eyes. A burly man with a booming, jovial voice. Chocolate and walnut cookies in the oven. Those were always my favorite. They’d know that, and the house would smell of them. Mother would help me with my studies and tell me wonderful stories. I always liked books about other places. My parents would say they believed in me. We’d have a pet dog too, and…my mother would be pregnant with my baby brother.

I heard something squishy behind me, along with a few grunts, and then some kind of movement. A warm liquid sprayed against my backside, causing me to cringe and turn around.

The nun was gripping her neck, blood seeping through her fingers. She had holes in her garments, right along the sides, and red stains were forming.

Clementine held a small knife in her hand as she stood before me, a quiet, empty look on her face.

Mackavoy’s eyes began to roll back, and she stumbled forward. Clementine dug the knife into the old woman again, at least four or five times in rapid succession, each in the belly. I could hardly process any of this, it happened so quickly.

The nun staggered, almost stumbling forward. Her head bobbed, and her arms dangled like she was half-asleep. I couldn’t tell what she was trying to do. She seemed to move her lips, but only mumbles came out, and even then, they were mostly whispers.

She stumbled to her left, reaching for what looked like a piece of cloth on the nearby lampstand, but missed it completely, knocking the whole thing down. The bulb shattered in a hard crash, and I flinched. She fell on her hands and knees, still trying to get to the cloth, but her hand dropped like it was limp, and she scraped it across the glass.

Her body was covered in blood, red replacing her porcelain skin. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was watch, totally frozen.

She began to crawl, this time to her desk area. Her mouth continued to open and close, although she was saying nothing. There were only smacking, wet sounds.

Finally, when she neared the desk, she reached out with a shaking, weak arm to grab a white box, hidden in the open compartment below. She thumbed at the edge, slipping each time, and leaving a swipe of blood. The box fell over, and I saw a medical sign on the front.

Mackavoy’s arms finally gave out completely, and she collapsed on her belly, tears in her eyes as they darted around the room, not focusing on anything in particular.

Clementine only stood there, a vacant expression on her face. She looked down at the nun as she struggled to breathe.

Clementine watched it all.

My eyes drifted down from my friend’s face to the knife in her hand. It was the same one from the counter, the tiny blade sitting next to the fruit and the Book of Ages. When had she decided to take it? Why hadn’t Mackavoy noticed? She’d had her eyes on us the entire time.

I tried so hard to yell or speak, but my mouth wouldn’t even open. I wanted to ask what was happening. I wanted to ask Clementine why she had done this bad thing.

Because it was bad, right? Mackavoy was on the floor, so it had to be, didn’t it?

Clementine was quiet and still, blood covering the entire dagger in her hand. She was like a different person, nothing in her eyes. No sign of the girl I knew. No emotion to tell me how to feel or what to think. Nothing but a void.

I heard the door open, but I still couldn’t react. I turned my head around to see Sister Mable standing under the arch. She looked completely horrified. “Oh, my gods!”

Clementine dropped the knife. “I-I didn’t mean to,” she whispered hoarsely. She backed away from the body, reaching for her clothes, which were now covered in the nun’s blood. “I just wanted it to stop. I—”

Mable’s eyes darted between Mackavoy and the two of us. After only a few seconds, the shock faded as she assessed what happened. She walked across the room, stepping over the body and pulling Clementine and me away. When we were near the door, she returned to the bed on the other side of the room, taking the sheets and wrapping us both. Before I could ask what was going on, she’d placed us inside one of the hallway closets. “Stay right here. I’ll be right back. Do you understand? Nod if you do, girls. Please, you have to listen. Do you understand?”

We both nodded.

“Good,” she said quickly and looked around. “Stay here.”

Clementine’s lip began to tremble, and her eyes welled up with tears. “I didn’t mean it.”

Mabel nodded. “I know you didn’t, Clem. Please, just stay here.”

She closed the door behind her, leaving us in the dark. We didn’t say anything, but my eyes drifted down to my hands. They were clean. Clementine’s were still red and wet, but mine were still so clean.

I didn’t have the cookies, I suddenly realized. I’d left them back in the room.

“I need to go back,” I said in a hoarse whisper. “I left the cookies on the couch.”

“What?” Clementine asked. There wasn’t much light, but I could still see the confusion in her eyes.

“We can’t leave the cookies back there,” I said, my voice a bit clearer. “I need to get rid of them. We’ll get in trouble if anyone finds out we—”

Clementine shook her head firmly. “No, Sister Mable told us to wait here. Forget the cookies, Abby.”

“But—”

Mable opened the door again before Clem could answer. She was carrying some traveling bags and two sets of clothes. “Get dressed, girls. We’re going on a trip. Don’t worry. Just do as I say, and everything will be fine.”

She closed the door again, leaving the clothes in our hands. I stripped down and dressed in the comfortable day clothes that Mable provided. “Open the door when you’re ready, girls,” Mable told us.

I had a difficult time getting dressed. Maybe it was the darkness of the closet, or maybe it was something else. I felt clumsy like I barely had the strength to lift my arms.

A moment later, we were standing in the hall. I felt Mable’s hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward the building’s door. A street lamp caught my eye. I could feel how cold it was outside, but it didn’t really matter. My head was in a fog, and I didn’t care enough to ask what was going on or where we were going.

I looked out the window but couldn’t see much. We were in a shuttle now, moving quickly. The cold had gone away, and Sister Mable was talking quickly and worriedly through a communicator. I knew I should try to pay attention, but I was so tired, so drained, as though I’d been standing in the sun all day.

A short while later, I felt Clementine wrap her arm around me.

It was nice, and I relaxed a little more.

2

I kept shivering from the cold, but a mug of hot chocolate helped settle that once we reached our destination. Having something warm and sweet to sip on was also relaxing, which seemed like a good thing, considering the back alley building we’d managed to find ourselves at. A man had been waiting for us at the gate, opening it immediately as we arrived. It was a compound of some sort, though the darkness made the details hard to see. I had no idea where we were or the path we’d taken to get here. I didn’t even know what time it was.

Mable ushered us into a room. My mind was foggy, but the chocolate helped, even if it was only a little. I sat down beside Clem on a set of stools, waiting while Mabel remained standing. After a few minutes, my eyes grew heavy, and I wanted to sleep.

The door snapped open with a hiss, causing me to jump in my seat, and I quickly focused on not spilling any of the drink. A man who wasn’t very tall or good-looking, but carried himself comfortably and smoothly, entered all by himself. He looked dirty, not like the priests or the clergymen. I’d never seen a man like that before.

He smiled when he saw Sister Mable.

“Mable, it’s good to see you again,” he said in a deep and gravelly voice, making it difficult for me to hear him, so I moved a little bit closer.

“It’s been too long, Mulberry,” Mable said with a smile, although it wasn’t her patient smile. A happy smile, yes, but different. More familiar maybe.

Clementine shifted beside me, watching the interaction between the two just as closely.

“Have you decided to give up a life of piety and return here, where you belong?” he asked in his low voice.

Mable shook her head. “I’m sorry. You know I’ve never felt at peace here.”

His smile disappeared. “And you know that while I respect your decision, I’ll always hope that you change your mind. I’ve even tried praying a couple of times, just to see if someone was listening.”

Mable giggled. “I just need your help with these two. I found them in… well, a situation.” She leaned in closer and whispered in Mulberry’s ear.

His eyes slowly widened, drifting to look at us. As Mable pulled away, the man chuckled. “They did that?” he asked, surprised. “That must have been quite a sight.”

I flinched and didn’t know why.

“I’m not so sure I can take them in, but maybe we can figure something out,” Mulberry said.

Mable didn’t seem convinced. “Just look at them. They need a place to stay, and I have nowhere else to turn. The Church will bury this and the two of them along with it. They’ll be sent away to some awful place. You’ve heard about the government orphanages, haven’t you? Delinquents, all of them.”

“What sort of folk do you think we are, Mable?” he asked with a chuckle. “There ain’t no one but delinquents in this place.”

She paused. “Better the devil you know. Isn’t that right?”

He smirked. “Is that what they say?”

“Besides, you don’t have to expose them to those things. I can get you lesson materials for their education. I only need you to house and feed them. It’s only for a few years until they reach seventeen.”

“A few years? They’re still babies,” he said.

“We’re twelve,” said Clementine.

The old man looked at her with surprise, like he hadn’t expected her to respond. “Still,” he said, turning back to Mable. “Five years is a long time to babysit.”

I looked away as Mulberry turned toward us again, and as close as I was to Clementine, I could feel her do the same.

“Please,” said Mable, and this time, her voice was soft and gentle, more than I’d ever heard from her before. She leaned closer to him, and he seemed to relax. Finally, he smiled. “Anything for you, Mable.”

Mable blushed. “Thank you.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

He smiled again, bigger and brighter than before. Mable backed up and gave him some space, allowing him to turn his attention to us.

He wasn’t an ugly man, but the way all the emotion seemed to instantly melt from his face made him a little terrifying.

Clementine and I pushed back into our seats as he came to a halt right in front of us.

“Girls, I understand that you’ve had a busy evening,” he said. “I hope to make it at least a little easier. I just need to look at you for a moment, and then we can find some beds for you to spend the night in.” His voice was that same low rumble, vibrating from his chest. It seemed to fit him, considering his thick frame, at least to my mind.

Clementine and I stood from our seats awkwardly in front of him.

His eyes were brown and lingered on every part of our bodies. It felt like an inspection, as if we were animals in a pet store window.

He squatted down to Clementine, running his eyes up and down her. He suddenly pressed his hands against her clothes to show what the slack had been hiding. She gasped and took a step away from him, and he moved back quickly. He didn’t apologize, but I could sense he meant no ill toward her. “Not much meat on you,” he remarked. “What are they feeding you at that church, eh? Scraps and slop?”

“Funding has been a problem, but they’re given as much as they want,” said Mable.

He scoffed. “Hardly. The girl looks like she can barely lift a knife, let alone—” He stopped abruptly, swallowing as he shifted his weight to face me. “Well, never mind. Your turn, kiddo.”

He did the same to me. His touch was deft and delicate, like a doctor’s, and with similar precision. I made a point not to pull away like Clementine had, but I wasn’t comfortable either.

Finally, he stopped and stood to his full height—shorter than Mable, but not by much. “I can’t make any promises,” he said, and it took me a moment to realize that he was talking to us, not to Mable. “But I think you’ll both do fine here. The work will be hard, so you’ll need to build some muscle on you, but a few months of feeding should do the trick. Mabel here says she’ll pass along some school supplies so you don’t turn out total fools.” He cleared his throat. “That cushy lifestyle you had as orphans will be behind you. You’ll have three meals a day, a roof over your heads, beds to sleep in, and warm clothes to wear, but you’ll work for what you get, and you’ll do right by this woman, the way she did right by you tonight.”

He paused like he was giving us a chance to speak, but neither of us did.

“You will do as I say,” he told us. “No questions. No arguments. If you don’t, I’ll toss you out into the street. I’ve got no reason to keep you here, except what I owe to Mabel. But you? You’re both nothing to me, which means it’s on you to earn your place.”

Clementine raised her hand. “What we will be doing here?”

He paused, and I wondered if he was considering whether to tell us or not. His face was all but unreadable. “Honest work,” he said after a time. “We do our business here, and you’ll have no part in that, but we need a few sweepers and moppers, and I’ll wager you two should do just fine.”

I felt my jaw clenching as I imagined my life back at the Church. It wasn’t the easiest—certainly not “cushy,” as this man had called it—but it also wasn’t the worst place to live. We had Sister Mable. We had decent food. Most of all, we had each other. There was a certain element of comfort to it, especially after living there for these past seven years. It was my home, and I didn’t want to leave it behind.

I thought about the two options in front of me. Go and take my chances in the world or stay and trust this stranger to look after me. If Mable could keep us out of the government orphanage, maybe I still had a chance to make something decent of myself. If I couldn’t go to a university, then maybe I could be a nun like her. Dress up in a habit and veil like all the others, take my vows, and never marry. Devote myself totally to the gods.

Mabel was so happy and kind. She helped so many people, and the world was better for her being in it. Would a life of service truly be so bad?

No, I didn’t suppose it would. I wanted to go to school, read, and find my own way, but I’d be happy helping others. I wanted to be like her.

Clementine jutted her chin out, facing Mulberry down. “I’ll do it,” she said with fierce determination in her eyes. “And that’ll be the best decision you’ve ever made, mister. I promise.”

Mulberry chuckled then looked back at Mable, who beamed an easy smile at Clem. The stout man gave my friend a nod and then turned to me, waiting for my answer.

I clenched my jaw, curling my hands into fists. I could almost hear my heart beating in my chest as I stared up at the stranger in front of me. I’d never decided like this—not in my whole life. No one had ever given me the chance to decide my own fate.

I didn’t know what to do.

Clem nudged me in the ribs. “I—I’ll do it,” I blurted out, surprised at my own words. But as I said them, I realized they were right. I’d chosen best because Clem would be with me. I couldn’t leave her now, not after everything.

Sister Mable frowned as I said the words, but I didn’t know why. Hadn’t she brought us here for this very reason? Why did she look so displeased?

“Okay, then,” said Mulberry. He craned his neck, looking at the nearby door. “Pearl! Get your ass in here!”

The sudden change in his pitch jarred me, so I flinched. No more than five seconds passed before a woman appeared in the corridor. She was taller than Mulberry, with the same lean build and short black hair tied up in a bun. I couldn’t tell her age, but she seemed close to Mable’s.

Mulberry eyed her for a second. “Pearl, please show these young ladies to their bunks. They’ve had a long night and need sleep.”

The woman glanced at the two of us. “Them?” she asked, balking. “I thought we were done recruiting preteens. They’re barely old enough to feed themselves, and you want to—”

“They won’t be working,” he corrected. “Not like that. They’re your new cleaning crew. Mops and buckets. Dishes and drains. You follow?”

“Ah,” she said, stretching out the sound. “In that case, both of you come with me. I’ve got the perfect room for you, near the north wing.”

“All the way out there?” asked Mulberry.

“Better that way, don’t you think? Less congested,” she explained.

“Ah,” he said and then nodded.

Clementine followed, but I paused for a moment to look back at Mable. “Thank you, Sister Mable.”

She hesitated but quickly gave a warm smile. For a moment, she looked like she had in the refectory earlier that day, and it made me want to do the same.

“You’re going to be safe here, Abigail,” she said, leaning towards me. “I promise you. Mulberry is going to see to that.”

The gruff man chuckled, a stark contrast to a few seconds ago when he had looked so serious.

“Thank you too, Mr. Mulberry,” I said.

He paused at that, as though my politeness had thrown him, but then he cleared his throat and nodded. “You just worry about doing a good job, you hear?” As I reached the door, following after Pearl and Clementine, the old man added, “And it’s Mr. Pryar, kiddo. Mulberry Pryar.”

3

Sunlight flooded my eyes, making it impossible to keep them closed and dragging me from a deep sleep. I groaned, trying to fight it. I still needed a few hours.

My eyes blinked open as I squinted at the daylight breaking through the window beside my bed. Its glare was harsh, but the warm light felt good against my skin. I pushed myself off the bed and settled my feet on the floor. Clementine was staring out the window, just waking up and still lying in her bed.

Pearl stood watching us next to the door. She wore a heavy brown coat over a dark green vest. My eyes immediately focused on the weapon strapped to her waist. I’d never seen a gun before. It was hard to look at anything else once I caught sight of that.

“Rise and shine, girls,” she said, and her voice sounded different than it had last night. Had I been too tired to focus? My brain had been foggy for half the night, after all.

We dressed quickly in our day clothes. When we finished, we lined up in front of her, ready for instruction. She indicated with her head for us to follow, and we did, imitating her silence. Memories of the night before felt vague, like it had been a dream.

The truth was right in front of us, though. New place, new day, new life. I’d never seen a house like this before. Damp halls, dusty cabinets, and no sign of any children our age.

We reached what looked like a dining hall. Unlike the one in the orphanage, this one was old and dirty, and the smell turned knots in my stomach.

After receiving our plates, we took our seats. There were other people there, but none of them spoke to us. We sat alone with Pearl at our own table, eating in silence. I toyed with the mush in front of me that looked like porridge but smelled like meat.

“It’s a meal mix,” Clementine said after a moment of poking and prodding her steaming food.

“All the carbs, proteins, and nutrients a body needs for sustenance during the day,” said Pearl.

Clementine leaned in, brave enough to taste it. She didn’t look convinced. “It needs salt.”

“Eat,” commanded Pearl flatly. “We have work to do.”

I leaned in again and sniffed the food. It was still hot, and while the smell wasn’t particularly appetizing, my stomach told me not to care, so I ate.

The taste was different. It felt like it should have been sweet, but it wasn’t, and it took a few more tries to get used to that. Still, after six or seven spoonfuls, I hardly noticed. Definitely not the best meal I had ever tasted, but I sure did feel better.

Pearl left us to eat, only returning once we’d finished our bowls. She carried two brooms in her hands. “Just because Mr. Pryar accepted you into the complex out of the kindness of his heart doesn’t mean you won’t have to earn your keep while you’re here.” She gestured around at the rest of the mess hall.

Clementine looked reluctant, so I decided to take the lead. I stood, dropping off my bowl at the washer and grabbing the broom. It wasn’t like I had never done chores before, even if I had shared those chores with the other girls in the orphanage.

Clementine followed my example and picked up the other broom, and we both began to sweep.

Pearl stood by and watched. She didn’t seem happy about looking after a pair of girls, but that was only a guess. Maybe the scowl on her face was normal. I had no way of knowing.

With the floor swept, we moved on to wiping down the tables. Scrubbing the grease and dried-up bits of mush took forever, and when we finished that chore, Pearl was right there to hand us another. My fascination with the gun she carried faded as my muscles ached from all the cleaning.

Clementine complained about the work, grumbling under her breath. At one point, as Pearl walked nearby us, Clem raised her voice loud enough for Pearl to hear. Pearl’s only reaction was an amused grin as she gave us a pair of mops and showed us into a new area to tidy up.

The high-ceilinged room spanned a large area. The sheer size of it made me groan at the prospect of mopping the bare concrete floor.

Pearl glanced at my wide eyes. “Don’t worry, little one. You won’t be scrubbing the whole place. Not today anyway. Just clean up that mess over there.”

She pointed at a corner of the room, where a bunch of knives and swords were mounted on the wall. A bright blue square was on the floor with rust-colored stains appearing over it.

“What is this place, miss?” I asked.

“An exercise room,” Pearl said, annoyed. “No more questions. Just clean.”

I pressed my lips together firmly and did as she said.

As I worked, I thought about how every room we entered seemed empty. We couldn’t be the only ones in the complex, since everything was such a mess. Maybe Pearl was keeping us away from everyone, or maybe they were all out for the day. I had so many questions but decided it was better to stay quiet and observe instead.

Our midday meal of stir-fried vegetables with egg noodles and chicken came and went in a flash. After working up a sweat, the food wasn’t half bad.

The break was short, though, and we were back at it too soon, room after room, cleaning and scrubbing, wiping and washing.

Blisters formed on my hands, and my muscles burned, begging for rest. We had agreed to follow their instructions to the best of our abilities, and I intended to keep that promise, so I didn’t complain.

By the time dinner came around, I was finding it hard to keep my eyes open, even though I was starving. Even more breakfast mush sounded good at that point.

To my relief, they didn’t serve us mush, but chopped beef with steamed vegetables. I scarfed down my portion and eyed Clem’s as she finished. I could have eaten two, maybe even three plates.

Pearl told us to rinse our dishes and sent us back to our room. We climbed gratefully into our beds, ready to let the day go.

But the second the lights flicked off, I found myself awake again, unable to rest. I tossed for ten minutes before Clem said my name.

“Hey, Abby?” she asked in the dark.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“Do you think we made the right choice coming here? Staying here, I mean?”

I turned around, barely able to make out my friend’s shape in the dim light. “I don’t know. I think so.”

Clementine turned to face the ceiling, rustling her sheets. “Yeah, me too,” she said softly, and then fidgeted under her blanket. “I’m just glad you’re here with me. It’s nice to have someone to work with, even if it’s just stupid sweeping and cleaning.”

“Me too,” I told her.

She turned to face me, propping her head up on her hand. “Hey, I just realized something.”

“What?” I asked.

“We’re sharing a room, and it’s just the two of us now. It’s kinda like we’re sisters. Real sisters, you know?”

I smiled at the sound of that. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” she said emphatically. “I’m technically older, so I’d be the big sister, but that doesn’t matter. You both look after each other. That’s what sisters do.”

“I’ve never had a sister before,” I said.

“Well, now you do!” she said like that was the end of it.

A flush ran down my chest. I felt so excited. “Okay!”

We both giggled at the idea.

Clementine straightened up. “Now there are rules about sisters, just so you know,” she said very seriously. “For starters, it means we gotta stick together, no matter what.”

“Right,” I said with a firm nod, although I knew she couldn’t see me.

“And being sisters—that lasts forever. It’s not something you can just change your mind about.”

“I never would!” I insisted, partially sitting up in my bed.

“Okay,” she said, and I could almost hear her smile. “Then, as of now, we’re real sisters. If anyone asks, that’s how it is. You and me, Abby.”

“You and me, Clem!” I exclaimed, so excited that I could barely contain it.

Clementine rolled back into her bed, and I rolled back into mine. We laughed together, there in the dark of our room, smelling like soap and talking about all the things we would do when we grew up.

And whatever they were, we decided we would most certainly do them together.

* * *

It felt like I had only just closed my eyes, when the shock of bright light struck me again. I sputtered, jerking up to sit. I growled, shifting my covers to the side and pulling myself out of bed. Clementine needed a bit more convincing, but she joined me after some complaining.

“Rise and shine, princesses,” Pearl said, a small smile on her face. “We’ve got another long day ahead of us.”

Once dressed, we marched back to the mess hall, but this time, there were other people there.

Some were dressed in the same green vests and heavy coats as Pearl. They gave us odd looks, and their conversations stopped as Clementine and I made our way to our seats, but the novelty soon wore off, and they turned their attention back to whatever they had been talking about before.

After enduring another serving of the meal mix, we followed Pearl through a handful of hallways. I rubbed my sore palms in response to memories from the day before, but the room that Pearl led us to wasn’t one that I had seen before.

There were two desks with work pads on them, and there was a screen at the front, with a chair in the corner. Pearl simply moved to the chair, indicating for us to sit at the desks.

Once we did, the screen lit up and showed the poorly rendered face of a man.

“Hello, Abigail. Hello, Clementine. My name is Angus, your instruction V.I. It is my privilege to take up your education and continue it to completion. You will note that your pads are already tuned to my instructional programming for easy access.”

I looked down, seeing the pad light up. Thankfully, Angus’s face was absent from my personal screen. The V.I.’s dead eyes were creepy enough just staring at me from the front of the room.

“I have a record of your academic achievements thus far, as well as a brief of your current educational status, and as such, I am fully equipped to handle your education as per Mulberry Pryar’s recommendations.”

I looked at it and then the pad in front of me. The sisters had handled all of our education in person. I’d heard about some schools that could afford a personalized V.I. for the students. Was this one of those places? It didn’t seem like a school to me. At least, it hadn’t resembled any school that I’d ever heard of.

“If you would kindly look to the pads in front of you, we can begin with a light review of what your studies should have covered thus far. We’ll be starting with mathematics.” Angus’s voice sounded vaguely human, but there was a robotic undertone.

Clementine raised her hand. Angus took a few seconds to respond. “How may I help you, Miss Clementine?”

“Can we keep the pads?” she asked.

My eyes widened. I had never had a pad of my own before.

“They are educational tools and, as such, should be kept on your person at all times. So, to answer your question…yes.” The V.I. smiled and immediately resumed the teaching program. I saw Pearl rolling her eyes as she pulled her own device out.

“If you’ll kindly look at the pads in front of you, we can start with a light review…”

We spent the next two and a half hours on things that we already knew: basic mathematics, quickly followed by a review of Osiris’s three official languages, as well as a history lesson, complete with a visual aid that replaced the creepy V.I.’s face for a little while.

Finally, the lesson ended. “Thank you for your attention, Miss Abigail, Miss Clementine, and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Goodbye.”

The screen went dead.

Pearl stood up, taking a moment to stretch before turning back to us. “Thank gods that’s over.”

She motioned for us to follow her, and I rubbed my hands, expecting more cleaning to come. I was right.

Clementine and I had the task of scrubbing down the dining hall after lunch, and then we moved over to cleaning the dishes. The kitchen had its own regular staff, but they weren’t around right now. I guessed they only did the cooking. The cleanup apparently fell to us.

By the time Pearl escorted us to our room after dinner, I felt like I could sleep for a week. The door closed behind us, and I changed into my night clothes, placing my dirty clothes in the laundry basket. When I finally settled into bed, I pulled my new pad out of my pocket and activated it.

I pressed the button on the side, lighting up the display. Angus’s face appeared, but not moving like it had in the classroom. Instead of speaking, everything he said came up as text on the screen.

The face was still creepy, though.

I spent a few minutes fiddling with the device. I had never had one of my own, but I’d handled one before and had a basic grasp of how it worked.

After tinkering with it for a few minutes, I learned that the pad could only do the education stuff that Angus allowed. I decided to look over the list of study topics the pad had access to. They were almost identical to the ones we’d seen in class. But then I saw another category at the bottom, called Fiction and Supplementary Material. I tapped the words, and a drop-down list appeared. I scrolled through them, surprised by the number of available titles. There had to be at least a few hundred here. The Adventures of Marco Grim, The Renegade and the Duchess, Digging Forward to Tomorrow: One Man’s Journey into the Ground. The list went on and on.

I could hardly believe it. The tiny library back in the Church had been so small. We’d only had a few books, and hardly any of them had been fiction. The only exceptions were a few fables and a book of fairy tales.

My eyes stopped on one of the titles, and my chest fluttered. Tales of the Earth: Mankind’s Lost Homeworld.

I felt myself squeeze the sides of the pad in excitement. This was the same book that Sister Mable had read to us—my favorite book in the whole library.

“Time for bed!” barked Pearl from outside the room.

Clementine tossed in her bed at the sound of the woman’s voice.

I wanted so badly to ask if I could stay awake and read, now that I’d discovered these books, but I knew better than to upset Pearl when she was in a mood like this. I’d have to wait to get my story fix until later, maybe during class. Besides, I really was tired.

I flicked the pad off, turned onto my stomach, and closed my eyes. I lay there for a while, slowly drifting, but my mind stayed on the books inside the pad, and I found I was still too excited to sleep.

After a short while, I heard voices from outside the door. Clementine was asleep, and she let out a light snore with her leg hanging off the bed.

I couldn’t help but listen intently to what was going on outside, and the longer I did, the more familiar the voices became.

“It’s an iffy job,” Pearl said. “Still not sure why you took it. Strange choice, Mulberry, even for you.”

Mulberry? We hadn’t seen him since we’d first arrived. I got out of bed and crept to the door. “It tickled me,” he said. “Someone wants Michael ‘The Mako’ Dunn taken care of? It sounded like a joke at first, but the client was sure as shit serious about it. Guess you could say that made it even funnier.”

“Well, I ain’t laughing,” Pearl growled. “It’s going to take a lot of resources, and you know that’s too high profile for us. Can’t you just tell him to find someone else?”

“And ruin our reputation with the Kahns? They’re an untapped gold mine, and you know it. Most of their operations are done in-house, but they’re giving us a chance to capitalize on their recent…personnel problem.”

“It’s too risky,” Pearl said quickly.

I slipped out of bed, taking slow and quiet steps as I edged my way closer to the door.

“If you don’t want the job, give it to Rose,” Mulberry said. “You know how bored she’s been. She’ll do whatever you throw her way.”

“You don’t think I can handle it myself?” Pearl’s voice took on a sort of edge that had me leaning closer.

“On the contrary, you can handle anything the godsdamn galaxy throws at you. That’s why I gave those two kids to you.”

“Don’t remind me,” Pearl scoffed. “You ought to know better than to stick me in a house with a couple of girls and tell me to play Mother.”

“Shit, Pearl, I know that, but who else is it gonna be?”

“Someone who spent the last two decades baking pies instead of slitting throats.”

Mulberry chuckled. “Maybe so, but the way the world is changing, I’d say those two needs exactly the kind of lessons that only you can give them,” he told her. “And I think you know that.”

Their voices drifted as they began to move again, and I went back to my bed.

Slitting throats? I thought, letting the heaviness of my tired eyes finally get the better of me. I wonder what she meant by that.

4

Another day, another dawn wake-up call from Pearl. Another class from Angus after breakfast, and another few hours of cleaning before lunch.

The days came and went, and the blisters on my hands became calluses. My sore muscles, while still aching, seemed to be comfortable with the constant work. It wasn’t exactly hard labor, but I liked to think we were earning our keep.

After lunch, instead of cleaning the mess hall, Clem and I were back in the kitchen again on dish duty. From the look of the plates, I guessed they were too dirty for a simple run through the machine. We were given heavy gloves, massive brushes, and told to make them sparkle.

I still wasn’t sure how many people lived in this place. So many came and went, and only a few had grown familiar. I didn’t know who any of them were, and when I asked, Pearl only shrugged and said they had gone or returned from assignments.

“Assignments for what?” I had asked.

“To do things that need doing,” she’d told me. “Like that floor over there that needs sweeping.”

I hummed a ditty Angus had played for us to help with our learning process, then grabbed a scrub brush and worked the bottom of a pot that looked like someone had cooked the beef stew an hour too long.

I was almost panting by the time I finally dug deep enough to reach the bottom of the slimy gunk inside the pot.

“Darn it, now I have that song stuck in my head too,” Clem said as she wrestled with a cast-iron skillet. She dipped it into a sink filled with sudsy water and pulled it out again for more.

“Angus did say that learning it via song helps us retain the knowledge,” I answered. “Then he started talking about the human brain-something or other, and I spaced out.”

“Well yeah, you attach anything to music that annoying, and you’ll never forget it,” Clem said.

“You’ll have nobody to blame if you get to test day and draw a blank. All you have to do is hum all the songs that you have stuck in your head, and you’re golden.” I looked up from my pot and smiled.

Clementine shuddered as she put a deep fryer basket up to dry and picked up a bunch of dirty cooking knives. “But that means that we’ll have to have Angus’s creepy singing voice playing on repeat in our heads. I can’t imagine a worse punishment. People will beg to be sent to the mining colonies after about an hour of that.”

We both laughed.

“Chatty ones, these new girls, wouldn’t you say?” asked a voice from the back of the kitchen. “Damn pretty, though.”

I hadn’t even heard anyone enter the room, but there were a couple of boys standing in the opposite corner of the kitchen. One, a shorter blond, was leaning against the wall. The other, heavier and taller than his friend, was sitting on one of the counters. He had a knife in one hand and a piece of fruit in the other.

Both looked like they were in their late teens. The black-haired boy seemed like he was almost old enough to be an adult, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Just ignore them,” Clem said, shaking her head and digging back into the dirty skillet.

“Boy, ain’t that the truth, Alonso,” the blond one said, tucking his pad into a pocket and leaning closer to the counter that his friend was sitting on. “You two sure are beautiful. What are your names? I’m Bart. This is Alonso.”

Clementine rolled her eyes.

“Nice to meet you girls,” Alonso answered. “I gotta tell you, I bet you both could use a break from all this cleaning, huh? Maybe spend a few hours with a couple of guys like us. We could show you a better time than this.”

“No thanks,” said Clementine.

“Aw, come on,” Bart said, frowning. “You ought to thank us for being so nice to you. This place ain’t made for girls as pretty as you two. We can protect you. Maybe bring you back something nice whenever we’re out.”

“That’s right,” Alonso said, walking up to Clementine. I could almost feel his eyes on her whole body, and it sent goosebumps down my back. “I bet it’s hard staying inside all day, doing chores. We’ve heard about you two. Heard you can’t leave.”

“Your skin looks so soft and pretty,” Bart said, getting close to me. “Has anyone ever told you that before?”

I felt like something sank down into my stomach, making me sick, making my hands cold, even though they were under the steaming water.

“I didn’t think so,” Bart continued. “I bet no one ever tells you nice things like that.”

Alphonse smirked. “If you ask me, you’re the prettier one,” he told Clementine, but she didn’t seem to react. “Your butt is way better than hers, and that dark hair makes your eyes really pop.”

“Go away,” Clementine muttered.

“Huh?” Bart asked. “Are you listening to us? We’re paying you a compliment. That’s no way to treat a guy who’s being nice to you.”

“We didn’t ask you to be nice to us,” Clem said.

“So what?” Alphonse asked with a huff. He placed his hand on her shoulder, swinging her around. He was a head taller than Clem, towering over both of us. He ran a finger across her bangs, moving them out of her eyes. “Don’t you like it when a guy does that?”

She stared at him, a firm look on her face, totally devoid of any fear. “Not really,” she said.

He snickered. “We both know that’s not true.”

I dropped the brush, pressing my fingers into the dirty bottom of the pot, trying to stop them from shaking. This feeling was too familiar, too fresh and horrifying.

My mind started wandering, jumping elsewhere. Mother making walnut and chocolate cookies, wrapping me up in her arms and telling me that everything was going to be all right.

It was getting easier and easier to slip into that daydream.

Bart touched my waist, and I felt my throat tighten. “I bet you’d like to get out of here, huh?” he asked me. “Alonso, maybe we can take them to our room.”

“Good idea,” he answered.

I kept ignoring them, but it was getting increasingly difficult.

Clementine turned away from Alonso, saying nothing. She seemed to be handling it better than me. She just kept on scrubbing that skillet, taking the time to clean deep into the grooves where grease had accumulated. I wished I could be that calm.

“Playing hard to get, eh?” asked Alonso. “I bet you’ll drop that act when I get you in my room.”

“Miss Pearl told us to get these dishes clean,” said Clem, her voice totally relaxed and casual, as though this was all so routine and simple. As if these two boys weren’t about to do something terrible to both of us. “If you don’t mind, that’s exactly what I’d like to get back to. You wouldn’t want to get on Miss Pearl’s bad side, would you?”

I looked over at Alonso, who laughed when he saw my face. I wondered if he could tell how scared I was right now. He had that same hungry look that Mackavoy had back at the orphanage when she sat me on that couch.

Alonso leaned over Clem’s shoulder, his annoyance starting to show. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll treat you the way you should be treated. I’ll give you a real good show too. I know you want it. No one else is going to be this nice to you.”

I caught him looking back at me. I found my brush buried deep in the sudsy water and gripped it tightly.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Clementine smiling as she dipped the skillet back into the steaming water. “That’s a very generous offer, Alonso,” she said, her voice soft and sweet as she kept her hands in the water. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline. As I said, Miss Pearl will be angry if we don’t do our jobs.”

Alonso laughed again, but this time, it felt forced, like he was trying to control himself. “Okay, sweetheart, let’s go. Bart and I only have about twenty minutes before we’ve gotta be somewhere, so I wanna make this quick. We can play games later.”

He grabbed her arm, squeezing it tightly. I gripped my brush, turning towards him. It was probably better than just my bare fists, but my hands were shaking so much, I wasn’t sure I could do anything right now.

Maybe I could get the soap in his eyes. Maybe distract him long enough to get away.

My heart hammered inside my ribcage like a rabbit trying to get out.

Something in Clem’s hand glinted in the light. It looked vaguely like a cheese knife, but I couldn’t see it well enough under the water.

Alonso leaned in closer, bringing his lips to the side of Clem’s neck. “You act like a bitch, but you just need a good man to teach you,” he whispered. “I’ll do that for you. It’ll be a favor. You can pay me back later. Don’t worry. I can show you how to be a good little—”

Clem swept around to face him with a swift, single motion, burying a knife in Alonso’s shoulder. All of this before anyone could react.

It took Alonso a split second to realize what had happened as the force of the blade caused him to stagger back. His eyes fell in shock as he spotted the metal in his flesh, and he let out a terrible scream. It was so loud, it hurt my ears.

Clem said nothing.

He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, and then took a step towards her. She shoved him back, and even though he was bigger, he lost his balance and stumbled into the nearby counter.

Clem backed away, gripping my hand and tugging me towards the door.

“Y-you bitch!” Alonso shouted, his voice cracking. “Get back here! Y-you fucking bitch! Bart, stop them! Don’t let them leave.”

His friend moved to us, but I kept my eyes down. Still, I could sense his feet as he neared the exit, coming to an abrupt stop. Right then, he let out a surprised gasp as I finally pulled my eyes away from the floor.

Clem halted, forcing me to do the same.

A familiar laugh filled the room.

“Mr. Pryar!” Bart exclaimed, stepping away from the husky, middle-aged man.

Mulberry, with his heavy coat and a wry smile, appeared more amused than anything. Bart and Alonso, for their part, looked absolutely terrified.

I hadn’t even heard the man come through the door.

Mulberry shook his head. “I have to say, Alonso, I’m really disappointed in you. Absalom had such high hopes for you, putting all that time and work into your training, and here I see you treating these girls this way. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I was just trying to be nice to them,” Alonso muttered, his eyes twitching towards where the curved cheese knife was still buried in his shoulder. “Sh-she’s just crazy. I-I was being nice to her! Wasn’t I, Bart?”

“It’s true, sir!” exclaimed Bart. “We both were just being nice.”

Mulberry narrowed his eyes at them. “If you think I’m fool enough to believe that, then you must not think much of me. Is that it, boys? You think I’m a fool?”

Alonso went red but said nothing.

Bart moved away from Mulberry as the man’s face changed to something more dangerous.

“It’s a shame,” Mulberry said, his voice an even, monotonous grumble. “I’ll need to come up with a punishment for this. What do you think, Clementine? Do you have any ideas?”

Clementine pulled her glove off and tossed it away in disgust. “Mr. Pryar, I—”

“Yes, I guess it’ll have to fit the crime, won’t it?” he asked. “I could just beat the shit out of you boys myself, but it seems Clementine’s already done that part for me. How about six months cleaning this kitchen? You can show these girls how sorry you are by doing their work for them.”

“B-but, sir, what about our other assignments?” asked Bart.

“You’ll still have to do those too,” Mulberry said. “I hope you can survive on five hours of sleep a night because you’ll be working the rest of the time.” Mulberry’s eyes drifted to Clem. ““I’ll be speaking to you later, Clementine. Why don’t you two girls go to your room while the rest of us have ourselves a talk?”

We both nodded, slipping out of the room as he continued to stare at the two boys, a vacant, passive look in his eyes.

We walked swiftly and quietly out of the kitchen and straight for our room, shutting the door and locking it behind us.

5

I threw my cleaning gloves away and sat on my bed, suddenly feeling tired. I just wanted to close my eyes and settle into my daydream, where people like Mackavoy, Alonso, and Bart didn’t exist. I wanted to fall asleep thinking of being someplace else.

My hands were still shaking. The cold feeling had subsided, but the sick remained, sticking to the back of my throat.

Clementine looked angry. She had chewed up the floor of our room, pacing back and forth in the narrow space between the two beds, stomping her anger out. It couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, but it felt like hours.

“Did you hear him?” Clementine tried to make an impression of Mulberry with a growl. “‘Go to your room.’ Like we did something wrong. They started it, not us. Why the hell are we the ones being punished?”

I didn’t look Clementine in the eye. “Well, I mean, we were cleaning, and now we’re not. Isn’t that better?”

Clem huffed. “Please. Mulberry needed time to check on his prize boys first. He sent us to our room so he can scold us for hurting the wittle bitty babies.” She made a crude gesture with her finger at the door. “He’s going to lay into us, I promise. We’re new here, so he’ll probably just try to get rid of us. Maybe send us away to work in one of the factories. And if that’s how they’re going to treat us, I don’t want to stay anyway. If the people here are like Alonso, I don’t want any part of them.”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, but did you really need to stab him?”

“Are you crazy?” she asked, spinning around to face me on my bed. “Of course I had to stab him. He deserved it. Hell, he’s lucky that’s all I stabbed. Besides, it was just a little scratch. He’ll be fine.”

Her eyes drifted away from mine, towards the door, and her mouth dropped. I turned around to see both Pearl and Mulberry standing before us.

Pearl looked at her pad. “I wouldn’t call a five-centimeter-deep wound to a vital muscle in the shoulder just a little scratch. He’ll need surgery to repair the damage done to the muscle, and he may have trouble with mobility for the rest of his life.”

Clementine stiffened, her face twisting into a less hostile but still firm expression. “I-I thought the door was—”

“Locked?” asked Mulberry. He raised his hand to show a small key card. “You ought to pay attention more when you’re ranting. We were standing here for at least ten seconds before you noticed. And before that, I could hear you in the hall.”

Clementine was silent, but I could tell by her eyes that she was trying to find a way out of this. “What are you going to do with us? Are you kicking us out? That’s it, isn’t it?”

I stepped beside her, taking her hand in mine. If they were going to punish her for what had happened, I was going too.

Mulberry looked at me, and it made that cold feeling return to my stomach. I held Clem’s hand tighter.

“I was only defending myself,” Clem said firmly.

A few tense moments passed as the two of them studied us.

Finally, Mulberry turned to Pearl, his look softening. “She’s not wrong.”

“You were there,” Clem said, raising her voice. It cracked at the last word. “Why didn’t you stop them?”

Mulberry tilted his head, letting the question linger a while before he finally answered. When he did, he seemed relaxed, almost sympathetic. “I wanted to see how you would handle yourself. I could’ve stepped in before things got out of hand, but as it turns out, I didn’t need to. Only the weak rely on others to save them, and if I thought you were weak, I would have done so.”

Clem tensed, and I felt it. That wasn’t the answer she wanted, but it felt honest. “You—” She paused, her eyes darting. “You should’ve done something. They had no right to do what they—”

“I know,” Mulberry said. He stared at her with a calm expression. There was no anger in him, not like there was with Clementine. “One day, I think you’ll understand why sometimes it’s better to let people fight for themselves. You may hate me for this today, but it’s what you needed. Both of you.”

She said nothing, but I knew those eyes, and I knew her. She would not forget this. She never forgot anything. Even if she grew quiet and appeared to move on, she would always remember. Whether she chose to blame those boys or Mulberry was something I simply couldn’t know.

But I hoped she saw the good in what the old man had tried to do.

Pearl relaxed, sighing deeply as she looked at the two of us. “What to do with you now, I wonder?”

Mulberry came closer, eyeing Clementine and crossing his arms. She stared up at him boldly, not shying away from his gaze. My hand trembled in hers, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze.

After what felt like forever, Mulberry nodded. “You were sloppy with that knife, Clementine. I can teach you to be better. Stronger. Would you like that?”

Clem’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Pearl said nothing.

Mulberry continued. “You’re green, inexperienced, but we can work with that. It won’t be easy. You’ll have to train your body as well as your mind. It’ll take everything in you…and maybe a little more. Are you up for that?”

Clementine’s jaw tightened as she stood before him, her eyes narrowing to match his. “I can do it.”

Mulberry raised a hand. “Keep in mind, kid, if you join up for this, you’ll be treated like an adult. No more coddling.”

I wanted to ask when the coddling had occurred, because so far since we arrived at this place, it had been anything but pleasant. Instead, I only watched as Clem turned the idea over in her head.

She brushed her hands across her cheek and nodded. “If you can teach me to be strong, then I want to learn. I’ll do anything you ask me to. Anything.”

Mulberry chuckled. “All right, kid. You start tomorrow morning, an hour before the usual wake-up time.”

The two adults exchanged a quick glance, then turned towards the door.

My heart was racing. I felt the urge to pull back, to retract from the situation. My body wanted me to say nothing, but I knew I couldn’t. I knew I had to do what was best for both my sister and me. “M-Mr. Pryar?” I asked, stepping forward as they crossed into the hall.

He pulled back to see me. “Yes, Abigail?”

I cleared my throat, not because I had to, but because I wanted the extra moment to breathe. “I want to join too.”

He tilted his head and stared at me, but there was less shock than I had expected from him. Less surprise. “Why?” he asked, a soft tone in his voice. It was so very different from the way he’d spoken to Clem.

Clementine squeezed my hand. If I looked back at her now, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. I also knew that I wasn’t strong enough to survive in this world on my own. I needed her a lot more than she needed me. Hopefully, this training, whatever it was, would change that.

“Because I need it,” I whispered. It was a simple answer and an honest one. I just hoped that he wouldn’t see how true it was.

But the look in Mulberry’s eyes told me that he did.

He turned to Pearl, an unspoken question in his eyes. Her answer was a simple shrug, and she stepped out of the room.

When he turned back to me, he frowned, and I sensed a kind of sadness in him. “Are you sure you want this?”

All I could do was nod.

His eyes lingered on mine for a time, but then his expression hardened back into the man I knew. “Very well, then,” he said, giving me a nod. He looked at Clem and again at me. “I’ll see you both first thing tomorrow.”

6

“Again, godsdammit!”

My arms felt rattled and numb with each strike. Pearl said that this sensation would pass as my muscles and bones adjust to the impacts, growing denser, but after a month of this kind of training, I still didn’t feel any difference.

Then again, the rubber training dummy was taking the worst of the beating. He was shuddering and shaking with every blow.

I went through the last series again, putting my arms up the way that Pearl had shown me, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet as I came in closer, throwing my fists at the dummy’s face. My shoulders ached with each impact, and as I ducked, I struggled to keep my balance.

Pearl was having none of it. “One foot in front of the other. Abigail, that’s not how you make a fist! Do it the way I told you. Clementine, you’re kicking too high! Balance yourself, or you’ll fall from a godsdamn breeze. Keep going!”

She had transformed into something new, a far cry from the bored woman we’d encountered before. Here, she was in her element. She was engaged, watching and studying each move, calling us on it, and forcing us to improve.

I was thankful but also exhausted. The day had stretched longer than any we’d spent cleaning. This was a new kind of work, a new kind of life, and it would take time to adjust.

“Once more, Abigail,” she said in an even voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” I gasped.

I raised my arms again, taking the stance she’d shown us only once. I started with a jab from my left side.

My punches slammed into the gelatinous face on the dummy. The life-sized toy was made to imitate the density of human skin, muscle, and bone. I felt the impact all the way through my knuckles and into my wrist.

And it hurt.

I repeated the move again, ducking under an imaginary haymaker, then gave an uppercut with my right hand. I tried for a mid-height kick to the ribs but slipped and fell to the floor.

Pearl said nothing as I regained myself.

“Sorry,” I said, taking heavy breaths. I looked at her, expecting a fierce reprisal for my failure. Instead, her eyes were steady, no hint of anger or disappointment.

“Don’t apologize, Abigail. Just learn and adapt,” she said. She reached into a nearby container and retrieved a bottle of water, then tossed it towards me. It rolled into my thigh. “Never throw a kick unless you’re absolutely sure that you have the balance to complete it. It’s better to hold off on the attack than to fall flat on your back. You lose your balance, you die. Do you think you can remember that?”

I nodded, swallowing a mouthful of water and setting the bottle down near the edge of the matt.

“Take a few minutes. We’ll try again soon,” she said.

I nodded and leaned down on my knees, feeling my sweaty hair drape across my face. It used to be long. I used to be proud of it—my pretty blonde locks. They used to turn gold in the sun.

But Pearl had cut it, saying that long hair was going to hamper my training. In the four weeks since we’d cut it, time had regrown it enough so that I had annoying bangs that got in my eyes every five seconds.

I took another gulp of water, coughing as a few drops went down the wrong pipe.

Clementine was a lot more enthusiastic and energetic about the training than I was. Mulberry had, after all, chosen her first, and now I could see why. I’d just tagged along. I was slowing the training regimen down, but hopefully not by too much.

But Clem was far ahead of me, rarely tiring, hardly messing up. She had a natural composure to her, as though she’d been waiting her entire life for this.

Whatever this was. Honestly, I still didn’t know.

She worked a series of punches—jabs and uppercuts—and then she hammered an elbow into the dummy’s jaw. With a jumping step back, she spun on her back foot and landed a beautiful high kick that knocked the dummy to the floor.

“Nice work, Clementine,” Pearl said, handing her a bottle once the dummy was on its feet. “Take a break.”

“Thanks, Miss Pearl,” she said with a bright grin, tossing her now short black hair and tilting her head to drink some water.

When Pearl walked away, Clem turned and jogged over to where I had taken a seat on one of the nearby stools. “You okay, Abby?”

I was still panting, wiping the sweat from my face with a towel. “Not really. I’m starting to wonder if I should even be here.”

Clem’s eyes narrowed as she took another sip of her water. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I knew it was going to be difficult, but this is harder than I expected, and with you—” I paused.

“With me what?” she asked.

Did Clem not see how much better than me she was? I shook my head. “It’s nothing. I’m just a bit tired is all.”

Clem laughed. “Me too. But I feel better through all this, you know? Like, tired but a good kind of tired, I guess. You know what I’m talking about?”

I didn’t, but I put on a smile anyway. “Yeah, of course.”

“Break’s over, girls,” Pearl said. “Let’s get back to it. I want you two to stick closer together from now on. Abigail, I want you studying Clementine’s form.”

A furious shade of red covered my face, but I nodded. Truth was, I could stand to learn a thing or two from Clem.

We brought the dummies that we were working on closer together and started going through the different combinations that Pearl had taught us all over again.

“Abigail,” Pearl called after I finally managed a mid-height kick without falling on my ass, even though the dummy barely moved when I kicked it. “Keep your knees bent and your center of gravity low. It’ll give you more power to work with.”

“Yes, Miss Pearl,” I said, doing as she instructed.

My thighs, already burning from the exercise, screamed in agony as I worked through the series again. This time, when I finished the combination with a kick, the rubber man moved, almost tipping over from the blow.

“What did I tell you?” Pearl asked, and as I looked at her, I noticed a small smile that quickly disappeared. “Now run it again. I want that dummy on its ass before we finish things up today.”

I nodded, tightening the wraps on my hands.

When we next took a break, I couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated.

I’d kept my knees bent and my center of gravity low, but I still didn’t get as close to knocking the dummy over as I had that first time.

If anything, I was just getting worse, and I told Pearl as much.

She chuckled and handed me a bottle and a towel. “You’re thinking about it too much. The point of repeating these combinations over and over again is to let your muscles get used to the moves so that when you actually have to use them in combat, your body remembers what it’s supposed to do. It’s called muscle memory, and it’s essential. When you can act without thinking, you’ll stand the better chance at living through the fight.”

Clementine came over to us, taking a long swig from her water bottle as she flipped her towel over her shoulder. “If you don’t mind my asking, how do you know all this, Miss Pearl? I mean, you seem better at this than running us through cleaning this place, but you still haven’t told us what you actually do. Have you ever killed anybody? Have you used these skills?”

Pearl chuckled softly, turning to Clem and rolling her neck. “You’re a lot less perceptive than I had you pegged for, Clementine. You’ve been here for over a month now, and you still don’t know what it is we’re training you for? What do you think it is that we do here?”

I shrugged, even though the question wasn’t directed at me. “I thought you were some sort of security service. Protecting people, helping the innocent.”

Pearl smiled at me like I’d just said something adorable and then turned back toward Clementine. “Yes, I kill people. Because aside from keeping the two of you out of trouble, that’s precisely what my job entails. I went through a similar training regimen as I’m giving you, though I was a lot younger when I started.”

I looked down. I knew that this was the most likely explanation for what they did, but I still hoped it was something else. Something nicer, closer to what the sisters did. Mable obviously knew Mulberry, so she probably knew what it was that he did for a living.

Hell, from the way they had spoken to each other, I was starting to wonder if Mable was a killer like Miss Pearl.

No, I just couldn’t imagine it. Mable was the image of peace and patience in my mind, not killing people. It just didn’t make sense.

Maybe that was why Mulberry had second thoughts about me being a part of this. I had only joined because I couldn’t bear to part with my best and only friend. My selfish decision had put me in a position that I wasn’t entirely sure I was comfortable with.

Clementine seemed quite excited by the prospect of our teacher being a trained killer and was bubbling with questions. “So have you killed a lot of people? Were they important? Were they bad?”

Pearl shook her head. “I can’t talk about the specifics. And you shouldn’t ask about them.” She paused. “But yes, they were…bad.”

“Is that what this whole place is for?” I asked. “Are you training assassins?”

“Yes,” Pearl said simply.

“Is everyone here like you?” asked Clem.

Pearl nodded.

“What’s the name of this place?” I asked.

“It doesn’t have one,” she said.

We both stared at her, confused.

She sighed. “Names are used to identify you. The same is true of an organization, a government, a business. It gives it shape, makes it so you can point to something and understand it. Without a name, you release yourself from the world, fading back into its noise without ever having been seen. Men whisper in fear of the unknown, and that is precisely what we are, simply by existing.” She raised a finger, letting silence fill the moment for several seconds, and then continued. “So it is with each of us. When I leave these doors, I become no one. I become shapeless. And when I kill, I do so as a concept, a force of nature.”

Clem and I both swallowed.

“Numbers are used as a form of identity, based on our rank inside the organization, but only when communication is needed.”

“What’s your number?” I asked, timidly.

“Three.” Pearl’s lips curled. “Mulberry is number one, obviously.”

Clementine was looking more and more interested. “Who’s number two?”

“None of your business,” Pearl scoffed. “Now, it’s been more than five minutes, which means it’s time to get back to work. I still haven’t seen you knock that dummy over, Abigail, and you won’t be getting dinner until you do.”

* * *

I finally did it. It took most of the afternoon, but I finally managed to kick the dummy off its weighted feet.

The feeling of pride from that didn’t put a dent in how tired I felt, though.

My body felt weak with every movement. Even the act of lifting a fork to my mouth got me wondering if I could do this for another day. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired, and I had been training for a month now.

My fuzzy brain tried to work out that logic. All I could determine was that this was the first time that I had actually applied myself to this. Meanwhile, Clem had been training like this since the first day. She was so fearless, so sincere in her devotion to what we were doing.

I just wanted to keep up.

I didn’t bother changing into my night clothes after we got back to our room. I just dropped onto the bed, dressed in the clothes I was wearing. My body felt like it was on fire as my sore muscles burned in agony. But as tired as I was, I still couldn’t fall asleep. My brain wouldn’t shut down.

I looked up at the ceiling, reimagining the day’s routine again in my mind, visualizing all of my mistakes.

“Hey, Abby?” I turned my head to see Clem lying on her stomach, chin resting on her forearms as she faced me.

“Yeah?” I asked, still not moving.

“What are you thinking about? You’re just staring at nothing.”

So she’d noticed it too.

It made me smile, giving me enough energy to turn my body on the bed to face her. “Just thinking about Mable. She knew Mulberry very well, and it made me wonder if she was an assassin like Pearl. What if she was number two?”

Clem shrugged and didn’t answer, giving me the impression that it hadn’t been what was on her mind. So I asked, “What are you thinking about?”

She paused before answering. “I’m just thinking what my number’s going to be.”

“It’s based on your rank, isn’t it?” I asked.

She nodded. “Which means it can change.”

“What number do you want?” I asked.

She turned over on the bed, facing up at the ceiling like I had been. “Number one. I want to be the greatest assassin in the universe.”

My eyes narrowed.

She continued. “I’ll be better than everyone else. Better than Mulberry. Better than Rose and Pearl. All of them. Everyone will talk about the girl with the black hair who doesn’t have a name. I’ll be a ghost, but I’ll be the best.”

“Is that really what you want?” I asked.

She looked at me with sheer determination in her eyes. “More than anything in the entire galaxy.”

I watched her for a moment, not knowing fully what to say. I only knew that this was important to her, and because I loved her, I had to support it. “Then that’s what you’ll be, Clem. I know it.”

She smiled at the last part and lay back down. “Me too.”

I could tell Clem had changed since we first began these lessons. She’d become more determined, more purposeful in her actions. When she went to the training room to practice, she pushed herself to her absolute limit. Even her grades had improved.

Maybe she had always wanted this life. Maybe I’d been blind to this side of her. I couldn’t really say.

All I knew was I was afraid. Not for myself, but for her, because the path she’d chosen would be a dangerous one. We weren’t in the orphanage anymore. I knew things now, more than I ever had, and one of them was that the world was full of corruption and danger, and it was constantly trying to change you.

Then again, I wasn’t so sure the world had done this to her. Not entirely.

Even in our first week here, she’d pushed her boundaries with Pearl. Now that she knew that she could be an assassin, she seemed exhilarated. Not changed, exactly, but completed.

Was she going to keep changing? Keep going down this path? I turned to look at Clem, but she had turned over to face the wall.

No matter what she ended up doing, she was going to be my sister through all of it. Clem wasn’t going to change that much, and even if she did, I would always be there for her. I would always look after her, the same way she had for me.

She was my sister, my friend, my partner. Whatever happened after this, we would always be together.

7

Blinking a drop of sweat away from my eye, I jumped lightly from foot to foot, weaving a bit in place. I bent my knees slightly, moving easily and quickly as I saw a black glove arcing around towards my face.

I ducked under it, pushing forward with my left foot to counterattack. My left hand delivered a probing jab as my right fist hooked underneath, heading for the ribs.

Clementine evaded, bringing her elbow down to block the hook. Even as she dodged, she was closing in. Her left foot darted forward to stomp mine.

I stepped back to avoid it, and she pressed her advantage, feigning with her fist, but then hooking with her other one. I leaned to avoid it, and she clasped both hands behind my neck, holding me there in the clinch and backing me up.

The full weight of her body pressed on me, helped by the substantial strength of her core muscles. She dragged my head down, and her knee came up. My hands caught her knee and pushed it down before it could hit me in the face.

It wouldn’t break anything, but it would still hurt like a whore’s ass on a busy night, as Pearl was fond of saying.

We continued exchanging blows, blocking most of them, until Clementine finally managed to come in close and wrap her arm around me, bringing our hips together. I tried to break free, but she held firm and tight, leaning to her side and pulling me into the air before slamming me to the floor with a hard hip throw. My back hit the mat with a loud smack, surprising me.

She pretended to stomp at my neck, ending the match.

“You’re getting better,” she said with a grin.

I scowled up at her, making an annoyed sound as I gripped her hand and got to my feet. “Is that why you almost pulled my arm off and took it home with you?”

She laughed. “You never know when you’ll need a spare.”

I stuck my tongue out at her as we grabbed our water bottles and towels.

“You need to stop charging at openings like a blind masoon, Abby,” Clem said, referencing the large animals we’d recently read about in class. They slept sixteen hours a day, but if you woke them, they’d chase you until they fell over from exhaustion, which could strangely take up to several days. They also had tunnel vision and hated the color yellow. “That’s twice in one fight. All I had to do was wait for you to drop your guard, which always happens if I’m patient enough.”

I nodded, stripping the padded gloves from my hand and the guards from my face. I filled my mouth with water, and after swishing it around a few times, spit into the floor drain behind us.

Clementine made a face. “Gross,” she said, still undoing the padding from her knuckles.

I grinned. “Just washing the taste of defeat out of my mouth.”

She shook her head. “Come on, you weren’t that bad.”

“Neither were you,” I said.

We both laughed.

The gym door opened, and I turned to see Mulberry enter. He looked like a fairly well-to-do businessman out for a night of fun. Clem’s face reflected my own confusion, but before we could say anything, Pearl shouted, “You two! On your feet!”

We’d been here for three years now, and Pearl had taken to simple observation, with only the occasional correction as the two of us sparred with one another.

She and Mulberry were already talking by the time we jogged over to join them.

“Rose couldn’t handle it,” Mulberry said. “She mucked it up big time and got herself flagged at Customs. Thankfully, the target still doesn’t know that we’re coming for him, so he hasn’t upped his security yet. It’s easy, but there’s still a time issue.”

Pearl rolled her eyes as we came closer. “Are you pawning off another job on me?”

He nodded. “Sure am, because it was your job in the first place, and I only gave it to Rose when you decided to pass on it. We lost our shot at this target, but he’s landed in our lap again, and I just can’t stand to pass up the opportunity.”

“You’re talking about three years ago,” she said with a scoff. “You can’t blame me for that. I didn’t want to lose the contract, but it couldn’t be helped.”

Mulberry tilted his head, almost conceding to her. “Doesn’t matter. He’s back on our radar and the contract is double the old price. I need this done, Pearl, and I need it done tonight. It’s the best shot we’ll have at him, and we don’t know how long the security’s going to be this lax. He could go underground, the same way he did the last time we tried.”

Pearl let out a long sigh. “Fine. I’ll take care of it.” She turned to us, her displeasure still showing. “I’m going into the city. It shouldn’t take long. A couple of hours at most. I want you both in practicing for the next two hours, and then you’ll clean everything up, and—”

“Actually,” Mulberry interjected, scratching at the bristle on his chin. “This might be a good opportunity for them to get some supervised field experience. Don’t you think so?”

Pearl made a face as she swung around to look at the man. “What?”

Mulberry kept his face straight. “Lax security, in and out in a couple of hours. We couldn’t ask for a better mission. Besides, they’ll only be observing. You’ll be on a rooftop, firing at a distance. Easy training.”

“Easy, he tells me,” she said, looking at Clem and me. “This is the same contract we lost three years ago because he disappeared, but now you think I should take the girls?” Pearl sighed again.

Before she could continue, Clem stepped in with an excited expression on her face. “We could really use the experience! Right, Abby?” She nudged me with an elbow, and I nodded quickly in response.

Pearl eyed the two of us for a long couple of seconds, her whole body stiff, until finally, she relaxed. “Fine,” Pearl eventually said. “But if either of you screws this up, it’ll be years before you get a second chance at this. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!” we both snapped.

Mulberry grinned at her and winked at us. “Have a good time, girls. Don’t stay out too late.” He turned around, pulling the doors open, and exited the training room.

Pearl casually started walking to the exit. “We’ll be leaving in half an hour. I want to see both of you showered, changed, and waiting for me at the shuttle exit in twenty. If you’re late, you get left behind.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Clementine said, running ahead of me to the lockers. It was the most excited I’d seen her in weeks.

8

Clementine slowed down enough for me to catch up with her, and we stepped inside the shuttle bay together. A handful of transports waited beside a road leading out of the building. It wasn’t an expansive area. The room was about as large as our training gym. Like everything else about this place, it didn’t even have a name and remained low key and understated. If you were driving by this place in the middle of the afternoon, you’d never suspect it housed one of the most successful assassin guilds in six star systems.

Clementine checked her watch as we entered. “Seventeen minutes and forty-five seconds,” she announced proudly. “That’s got to be some kind of record for getting ready.”

Pearl’s voice came from behind us. “Absolutely. You can expect medals and a call from the governor any minute now.”

Pearl wasn’t wearing training clothes. Instead, she had on what looked like a pure black jumpsuit, black boots, and gloves. It looked loose and baggy, but as she came closer, I saw that the space between the clothes was actually firm and hard, indicating some kind of light body armor underneath.

Clem was immediately interested, reaching out to touch the arm of the jumpsuit.

“Is that Neuro-Mass?” I asked, narrowing my eyes, trying to remember the name. I’d heard of it before in one of my books. Over the past three years, our standard education had been supplemented with a handful of extra courses specifically related to—well, what we were about to do.

One course had covered all the known forms of body armor, both modern and ancient. Neuro-Mass was a type of protection recently developed for the Union’s special forces. It incorporated a tactile sensation, allowing the armor to feel almost like a part of the user’s body.

Pearl chuckled and shook her head. “No, Mass sets off all kinds of alarms and attracts the kind of attention that I could do without. This has a ceramic-titanium weave underneath that acts like regular clothes until it’s hit with something. The impact causes it to harden and stop the attack. It can stave off most small-arms fire, knives, and even blunt-force trauma. If anything gets through, the material releases a gel anti-toxin and coagulant into the wound. It can’t stop the heavier stuff, but it’s effective in most fights. A bit low tech, but it gets the job done.”

Clementine was still stroking the material in pure fascination. “It’s amazing. When do we get armor like this?”

An odd smile crossed Pearl’s features. “When you’re older and ready to have jobs of your own.”

I could read the excitement on my sister’s face as we headed toward one of the waiting shuttles. Soon we were heading to the city.

* * *

“You got the mission briefs on your pads,” Pearl said. “Read them back to me.”

I turned my eyes away from the edge of the rooftop. We weren’t in the nicest part of town, but the view from this high up was still incredible. We were near the docks, and I could feel the ocean salt in the breeze as it cut through my clothes.

Clementine had her pad out before me, and she started reading the brief. “Target’s name is Michael Dunn.”

I narrowed my eyes. Why did that name sound familiar?

Clementine kept going. “Longtime operative and high-ranking official of the Osiris-based drug cartel known as the Conference. He was originally a Union naval officer before being dishonorably discharged when he was caught using his position aboard the UFS Peaceful Resolute to smuggle weapons, drugs, and…miscellaneous?”

“Artifacts, electronics, pretty much anything that can be moved for a lot of money,” Pearl explained, pulling out the briefcase she’d brought and putting it on top of a ledge.

I read over the information on my pad. “His wife divorced him after the discharge. The criminal charges were dropped, though. I wonder why.”

“Maybe he had the right connections,” Clem said.

Pearl nodded, pulling a red velvet blanket from the case and placing it on the ledge beside the briefcase. “The intel says he was working with the Conference at the time. He funneled military secrets to them for a fee. They slicked a few palms to get him out and the files sealed.”

“If they’re sealed, how did we get them?” I asked.

Pearl raised her eye like the answer should be obvious. After a moment, she continued. “Once he was released, he started working for the organization full time here in Ruto City.”

I glanced down at the pad and continued reading. “He didn’t have any kids, and most of his family is dead. He has an uncle living here in the city, though, who has a history of disorderly conduct and possession of controlled substances. The uncle has no job to speak of, and he hasn’t paid any taxes in almost a decade. He’s a drunk and a junkie. Dunn has been paying for the guy’s housing in this neighborhood.”

Pearl nodded again as she started placing pieces of what looked like a rifle on the blanket and putting them together. “Just across the street from this building, as a matter of fact.” She fit everything together in under a minute. Lower receiver, upper receiver, bolt carrier assembly, and the rail attachment for the scope. “He’s been giving his uncle rent money for the past five years. It appears his uncle has been using the money on drugs and alcohol, though. The target has been informed of this, and after a handful of warnings, he’s finally going to make an appearance in person to talk it over.”

Clem looked up from studying how Pearl was putting the rifle together, a confused look on her face. “How do we know all this?”

Pearl looked up from what she was doing. “This has been a long-running operation. Dunn has a lot of professionals on his security staff, so we had to have someone infiltrate the organization to get the intel on him. Over the past three years, our operative has been gathering information. She finally found out about the uncle, a possible weak spot in our man’s security, and found out that the man was using the money that was being sent for drugs. There’s no love lost between Dunn and his uncle, and it seems that Dunn only helps the man out of a sense of familial duty, so our operative leaked the information to Dunn about how his money was being spent. Dunn intercepted the messages, but unfortunately, our operative’s cover was compromised in the process. So we needed a fresh face to finish the job.”

Pearl spoke like she’d memorized a script. She pulled a magazine from the case and started fitting rounds into it. “That’s me, a fresh face. And you girls are along for the ride.”

Once the magazine was full to a capacity of five rounds, she picked up the almost completely assembled rifle and looked through the scope.

Clementine seemed anxious for the job to start, and she moved over to the edge of the roof, looking at the building where Dunn would be visiting his uncle. “So how are we going to do it?” she asked finally. “Are those bullets tipped with poison? Are they tracker-enabled so you don’t actually have to be in sight of the building when you shoot it?”

Pearl pulled away from the scope to give her an odd look. “Tracker-enabled bullets are pure science fiction. And we don’t need poison-tipped bullets when regular bullets are deadly enough on their own.” She finished fiddling with the scope, placed the rifle on a tripod, and picked the magazine up again. “Dunn appears to be a bit ashamed of his uncle’s habits, or maybe he’s cautious since it’s a weak point in his otherwise rather impressive defenses. He’s coming here without any of his usual security. We can’t hit him in the car, which will be bulletproof, and the building has an underground parking garage, so we can’t catch him between the car and the building. He’ll be coming up to the apartment, though, and the apartment has a broad window that exposes the whole living area. It gives us a clean shot, maybe sixty meters from here, so it won’t be difficult, even through the glass. I’ll have to anticipate that he’ll be wearing body armor, so I have to shoot for his head.”

I nodded, taking all of this in and jotting notes on my pad. This was what we were here for, experience. We needed this if we were going to survive in this business. That was how I had to describe it to myself—a business.

We were dealing with a man’s life here. A drug dealer, sure, but a man just the same. A person with dreams, hopes, aspirations, and fears. And Miss Pearl was talking about how she had to shoot him in the head because he probably had body armor.

I sighed. Clementine was full of questions about what was coming next, but I couldn’t hear her. There was a rushing sound in my ears, and I just needed to take a moment to pull myself together.

I had been training for this for the past three years, and I knew that this part of the job was coming, but it still didn’t make it any easier. I moved over to the other side of the roof, away from Clementine’s questioning about the rifle and leaned on the ledge, looking out over the city.

I faced the docks now, with only a couple of smaller buildings between me and a fantastic view of the sun setting over the ocean. The wind flowed through my short hair, making me close my eyes and inhale the briny scent. It was relaxing, and for a moment, I could pretend that the hum of the city around me was actually the sound of waves crashing on a beach somewhere.

I had never been to a beach in real life, but a couple of the holos I’d seen had given me a decent idea of what it was like.

One day, I hoped to visit a real beach in person. I would have a book to read, and I’d enjoy the sun, wind, and the sound of the ocean, all without having to worry about training, killing, or hurting people.

“Target’s arrived,” Pearl said, snapping me out of my reverie.

I jogged over to where Pearl and Clem were waiting. Clem gave me a pair of binoculars, and I looked across the street. Nothing was happening.

“The target’s already in the underground parking garage,” Pearl said. “He should be moving toward the elevator now.” She peered into her scope. She counted softly under her breath as she looked through it.

“Which window are we looking at?” I asked, scanning the apartments in the building opposite us. Pearl pressed a button on her scope, and a highlight marker appeared in my binoculars, drawing my attention to a window on the twelfth floor, three windows to the left of the fire escape.

Pearl kept counting as we stared through the window, watching and waiting until a light came on. A man dressed only in a pair of briefs stepped into our line of vision. Despite the hour, it looked like he had just woken up. He was skeletally thin, to the point I could count his ribs, and he had massive dark rings under his eyes.

“Methamphetamines?” I asked. We’d learned about the various side effects of popular recreational drugs during our alternative lessons. Dunn’s uncle fit the textbook look of a meth head.

“Among other things,” Pearl muttered and went back to counting.

The semi-naked man reached the apartment’s door and examined the video feed to see who was outside. He clenched his fists and glanced around anxiously, almost like he was searching for somewhere to run. Finally, his shoulders slumped, defeated, and he unlocked the door. It was halfway open when Michael Dunn shoved it open the rest of the way and shouldered past his uncle.

Dunn wore an expensive three-piece suit, matching his file’s description to a tee except for a weak goatee on his chin.

Now that the target was in sight, Pearl stopped counting and readied the next round in the rifle, dragging the bolt back with a soft click. She used caseless ammunition, eliminating the need for cleanup. There were only the bullet and the propellant—the latter disappearing in a puff of smoke and the former going far away. They were expensive and illegal, but so was the business of killing.

I looked back at the apartment across the street, and another man walked through the door. While also dressed in a suit, his was cheaper-looking, like a uniform. He wore sunglasses, and a black earpiece looped behind his ear.

“Looks like Dunn brought security,” Clementine said, adjusting her own binoculars slightly.

“Is that a problem?” I asked.

“Not really,” Pearl said. Her voice was distant like she wasn’t really there. “Possibly a complication, but not a problem.”

I nodded, pretending I understood the difference between the two. I didn’t ask because Pearl was concentrating, and I didn’t want to distract her.

Dunn looked visibly angry, and his uncle groveled in front of him, cowering and skittish like a beaten dog. He probably needed a fix.

“Clem, you’re my spotter,” Pearl said, pressing the butt of the rifle up against her shoulder and taking a long, slow breath. “Give me the rundown.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Clementine answered, looking into her binoculars a bit more closely. “Target is sixty-five meters away, with a twelve-meter drop. Wind shows at three kilometers per hour, eastward.”

Clem seemed to be going over a mental checklist. When it came to calling a shot, the closer you were, the less this type of information mattered. A sixty-meter shot didn’t need to take into account air pressure and altitude.

Clem finally finished and leaned into her binoculars again. “Fire when ready.”

The arguing in the apartment had reached a fever pitch, with Dunn looking like he was going to blow a vein in his forehead. His face was red and furious. His uncle’s head hung low, and he made apologetic gestures with his hands. The security guy seemed intent on staring at the door for the entire conversation, his face expressionless.

He seemed collected and professional, but he missed the looming threat from the nearby rooftop. I wondered if it would cost him his life.

Pearl took a breath and released it. As soon as her lungs were empty, she squeezed the trigger. The kick was minimal. It wasn’t a powerful rifle. Pearl didn’t need heavy artillery for a shot at this distance. She was using sub-sonic rounds, and the suppressor that elongated the barrel by about twenty centimeters was allowed to do its job.

The noise still sounded distinctly like a gunshot, but it was quieter by about fifty decibels. The window shattering on the other side of the street was louder.

Dunn’s head snapped back, a red dot appearing between his eyes, and the wall behind him was suddenly sprayed with blood and brains. His body went limp, and he fell.

“Target down,” Clementine said, sounding excited.

Pearl adjusted the angle of the rifle on the tripod, picking out the uncle as a second target, and squeezed the trigger again.

Despite his ragged appearance, Dunn’s uncle was quick to get on the floor, ducking behind a sofa and crawling quickly out of sight.

The security guy jumped into action, drawing a weapon of his own and aiming it at the window. His mouth was moving, apparently calling the situation in to whoever was on the other end of his comm.

“We should go,” Pearl said, pulling the rifle away from the ledge before the man could see it. She spread the red blanket on the rooftop and placed the gun on it. She took it apart in quick, practiced motions. Clementine and I ducked behind the ledge too.

“That was amazing,” Clem said with a broad grin.

“It wasn’t that difficult,” Pearl said, meaning the shot.

Dunn’s uncle called for help. His voice carried over to our rooftop perch through the ruined window. I heard other people screaming. I assumed they were neighbors who’d heard the gunshots. Law enforcement or peacekeepers were probably on their way, and I wondered how a drug cartel might react to that.

Pearl stowed the rifle parts away and shut the case, clicking it closed and locking it. She turned to us, already headed for the door to the stairwell.

“A quick escape is always essential,” she said as she walked. “Whenever you’re on a job like this, it always pays to have at least three escape routes planned beforehand. In our case, it won’t take the security guy long to figure out where the shots came from, and he’ll be sending officers our way any minute. If we’re lucky.”

“And if we’re not?” Clem asked, something like giddy excitement in her voice as we reached the stairs.

“He’ll be sending whoever hired him to run security for a high-ranking member of a drug cartel.” Pearl turned to us as we started heading down the stairs. “I think you can imagine which is worse.”

I could. I had seen pictures of what cartels did to people when they wanted to send a message. Things got ugly when they had a reason to get violent.

I’d take six months in a corrections cell, personally.

Twelve flights of stairs were easier going down than up, and we reached the bottom in minutes. As we exited the building, police vehicle sirens alerted us that they were on their way. They were still at least six blocks away, though, since I couldn’t see any flashing lights. The dread of being caught made me sick to my stomach, but to my relief, Pearl didn’t let us have much time to think about it.

Her pace looked natural, but Clem and I almost had to jog to keep up with her as we walked away from the building that would be swarming with cops and other questionable characters in a few minutes. Pearl didn’t look too worried.

She looked more relaxed than she had since we started. She turned quickly into an alleyway off the street. Once we were out of sight, she started jogging, heading deeper into the alley.

She found a door at the back of the alley and unlocked it. It opened without the creaking that I would have expected from a rusty old door.

We entered a department store storage area, full of hundreds of clothes racks, mostly still wrapped in plastic. Pearl stripped off her jacket and gloves in a hurry, keeping only her jumpsuit and boots as she pulled a new jacket from one of the racks. Once she tore the plastic off and put it on, she pulled a couple more off their hooks and handed them to us.

“Always be prepared,” she said with a wink. “I had these dropped here last night.”

I tore the bag open, slipping on a dark blue shirt with a skull on it, along with some black pants. There was also a jacket and a pair of winter gloves, along with a beanie to cover my hair. This was something I never would have worn, but I supposed that was the point.

Once we changed, we followed Pearl to the other side of the room. It opened up into a parking area, where the shuttle was waiting, not far from the door.

Less than ten minutes after pulling the trigger, Pearl had us in the air, accelerating towards the other side of town.

9

Over the next few days, Clementine was almost impossible to keep up with.

She was full of a manic energy that allowed her to train at a frenzied pace. I knew why she was so driven all of a sudden. Clem had a dream, and our little excursion with Miss Pearl had been a solid step toward realizing it.

She wanted to be the best, most feared assassin in the known universe. I wasn’t ashamed to admit that the thought terrified me a little. I hadn’t taken this path to be a killer. I just wanted to stay at my sister’s side.

Sparring with her was now difficult. Clem dialed up the intensity of our matches and had overcome her previous limits for all of our exercises. Her focus on our regular studies had slightly waned, replaced with a desperate hunger for other forms of knowledge, such as strangulations, poisons, stealth, and geopolitics, not to mention the various criminal organizations where nearly all of our hits came from. She was mostly interested in knives and close-range attacks. I ended up in our room alone most nights, reading my books as she spent more and more time in the gym.

“It’s necessary,” she told me as we took a break from rock-climbing one afternoon. One of the walls in the gym had been converted into a revolving cliff-face, perfect for full body movement exercises. “If I want to be the best, sacrifices must be made. I have to focus on training, which means that I don’t have time for things like math and history. That’s how it works.”

I furrowed my brow as I patted my hands with chalk powder. “I don’t know. I think if you work hard at everything, you can be more well-rounded. The fact that you won’t be the best at one doesn’t matter because it gives you a wider range of options. Having options makes you less likely to end up in a vulnerable situation. A generalist instead of a specialist.”

Clem shrugged, rolling her shoulders as she took a drink of water. “We’re assassins. We’ve got one thing to worry about. Killing. There’s no room in my head for pointless garbage like those stories you’ve been reading.”

I blinked, surprised by that. “I—”

“What? You didn’t think I noticed you doing that when the lights were out? I knew you weren’t studying trigonometry. I’m not stupid.” She shook her head. “And I’m not saying you can’t read what you want. I’m doing this, so you can have that. It’s not for me.”

I said nothing.

She jumped up to the first handhold, gripping it firmly as her feet found their place on the rocks, helping her to grip the next and begin the climb. “You coming?” she asked, looking down at me.

“O-oh, sorry,” I said quickly. I took a deep breath and exhaled, then gripped the nearest rock and sprang up.

I was sweating hard once I’d reached the ten-meter mark. I could feel my forearms and shoulders burning from the exertion five meters higher. The sweat dripped down my back, making it difficult to focus as the handholds were getting harder and harder to reach.

Suddenly, as I reached for the last one before the peak, my feet lost their grip, and I dropped from my perch. I only fell a meter before the slack in the rope on my harness caught me.

“You’ll get it next time,” Clem said with a grin. She waved at me, her hand coated in white powder.

I watched her move easily from hold to hold, and I shook my head in wonder. It all came so naturally to her.

I kept an eye on her harness as she climbed the moving wall, each of the holds continuously moving down. There was no end goal to this, no place you had to reach before it was over. This was an endurance test, and Clem had always outlasted me.

“She’s making good time up there,” I heard a voice behind me say. I jumped, startled. It was Pearl, chuckling softly at my surprise as she moved over to the wall. “My best time up this wall is twenty-three minutes, forty-seven seconds. Galion is the best at it. I remember his time was something like forty-eight minutes and change.”

I’d met Galion a few times. He was a shorter man with dusky skin, black hair, and almond-shaped eyes. He had been our hand-to-hand combat instructor when Pearl left for two weeks, off on some mission. He was agile, quick, and powerful. It wasn’t hard to believe that he’d be able to last so long on this wall.

I looked up to see Clem still moving, a wide grin on her face as she leaped to a hold that was difficult to reach.

I grinned back but couldn’t help a twinge of jealousy as I watched her there, twenty meters in the air, acting like it hadn’t even been that hard. I supposed for her, it probably wasn’t.

“What was my time?” she asked when she was back on the ground.

“Eight minutes, thirty-seven seconds,” Pearl said with a smile. “That’s a minute longer than the last time. Not bad.”

“You beat your best time!” I exclaimed with a smile. “At that rate, you’ll be leaving Pearl in the dust in no time.”

Pearl chuckled. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

I stepped in, about to take the strap from Clem to have another try myself, but Pearl stopped me. “We’re doing something new today. Follow me.”

We both frowned but didn’t argue.

She led us through a series of hallways, guiding us into a far spot of the building that was previously off limits to us.

When we entered through the door, Pearl gave us each a pair of protective glasses and earpieces in a gray prep room. She pulled two cases from a shelf, and we followed her to the main room. It was pretty massive, although not quite as wide as the training area we’d just come from, but certainly much longer, like a giant rectangle.

For the moment, we had the whole place to ourselves. Pearl walked us toward the edge of the room and then placed the two cases on separate benches before turning towards us.

“You recognize these, don’t you?” she asked, pointing to them.

Clem nodded. “They’re what you used to carry your rifle in.” She paused. “For our job.”

“My job,” Pearl corrected in a playful tone, but her eyes told me that she wasn’t entirely kidding. “Yes, these are the cases that carry disassembled rifles that we use on many of our operations. The casing is meant to be as nonchalant as possible, but I’m sure you’re both smart enough to guess that.”

She opened each case, revealing the pieces inside, all neatly arranged and ready for assembly. On one side of the case, a red felt blanket was folded up.

“So cool,” Clementine said, her eyes gleaming as she studied the disassembled rifle in front of her. “So are we doing target practice?”

Pearl smirked. “That depends. You’ll find manuals inside for how to assemble the rifles. Pay close attention. Eventually, you’ll need to learn to put them together and take them apart quickly while in the field, but for now, it’s important to learn how to assemble them correctly, so have patience and take your time.” She motioned toward the cases. “Begin.”

I pulled the blanket out and laid it on the bench like I remembered Pearl doing a couple days ago on a roof. No wrinkles, completely flat across the surface. There were smaller pieces to this puzzle, and I didn’t want any of them getting lost.

I pulled out the manual, studying it closely before starting to piece it together. The scope, firing pin, muzzle, and so on. Everything had its place. Still, even with instructions, learning how to build something took time to master, but the more I did this, the faster I would become. It was like any other skill.

After a few moments, I snapped the empty magazine into the rifle, then stood and looked at Pearl. “Done.”

Clementine and Pearl both seemed surprised. “You are?” asked Clem.

I nodded. “Think so.”

Pearl took the gun and examined it, checking every piece to make certain, and then nodded. “Very good, Abigail.” Her eyes drifted to Clem, who was still watching us with a slack-jawed expression. “Are you done too?”

Clementine stiffened and dropped her focus back to her weapon. “Not yet! Almost!”

Pearl handed the weapon back to me. “Take it apart and do it again. You were fast for your first time, but still slow compared to the rest of us. We’ll keep doing this until you can both do this in under thirty seconds.”

Clem and I sat there assembling and disassembling our weapons for the better part of an hour, trying our best to get faster and more precise. I wasn’t sure why, but I actually found myself enjoying this. There was something about the way the pieces came together, something about the smell and the feel of the metal.

Pearl’s inspections were quick and thorough each time, causing me to wonder how many she had done before now. Hundreds? Thousands? It had to be as familiar to her as breathing, the way she had been with her own rifle on the roof.

“Nice work,” she said after another inspection, handing the rifle back to me. “Come on, both of you. That’s enough practice.”

We followed her to a bench, where she set the rifle up on the tripod. Pearl pulled a case out of her pocket and withdrew five bullets, placing them on the blanket next to the weapon.

She held one of them up. “These are long-range precision rounds, otherwise known as nexus bolts. They’re untraceable, citywide threat scans can’t detect them, and they can penetrate four-centimeter-thick glass from three hundred meters away. This is what I used on our job.” She looked at Clem with a half-smile. “You’re going to practice now, so you can learn how they feel.”

“Really?!” asked Clementine, her face lighting up. “Yes!”

“Enough of that,” cautioned Pearl, lifting her hand to steady Clem. “Calmness first. Work on that. You can’t get excited when you’re using these weapons. They’re not toys. They’re death itself, and you need to learn how to wield them like adults.”

“Yes, Ms. Pearl!” said Clem, still full of energy as she forced herself to sit still.

Pearl’s face remained calm as she stood over us. “Now, both of you, load your weapons and get ready to fire. We’re going to be here for a while, so take your time and get this right.”

* * *

I pulled the magazine from its box and quickly slipped the five bullets in, then screwed the suppressor into place, rolling my shoulders as I pulled the rifle closer to me. I heard Pearl pressing a control panel, and a paper target came into view, dangling by some wires. It was near the other side of the long room, too far for me to see the details. I could only make out its shape, which resembled a man.

“Call it,” she ordered.

I leaned into the scope, pressing a small button on the side. It activated a laser that coincided with the crosshairs of the scope. It wasn’t visible and not used for targeting, but rather for measuring the distance between me and whatever my scope was aiming at. A display appeared, showing the distance.

“Fifty meters,” I said, dragging the bolt back and chambering a round.

“Most shooting instructors would tell you to aim for center mass,” Pearl said in a soft voice. “But like with Dunn, a lot of the people that you’ll be shooting at will be wearing body armor. You’ll have to get used to shooting for the head.”

I didn’t respond but shifted my shot up a few centimeters, taking long, deep breaths. I felt excited, oddly enough, and I could sense my heartbeat quicken. Was I nervous? Afraid? Intimidated?

No, that wasn’t it. This was something different—the same feeling I used to get when Sister Mable told me stories of the outside world. The same feeling I had when I thought about my make-believe parents.

I was having fun. Shooting.

A gentle jitter touched my fingers as I leaned into the rifle, feeling the stock press into my shoulder, and I exhaled.

I gently squeezed the trigger.

A loud pop echoed through the room, mostly covered by the earpieces as the rifle jerked against my shoulder. A moment later, I took control again, finding the target with my scope. I had missed the head, but when I looked again, I saw that I hadn’t missed the target entirely. There was a hole about ten centimeters down from where I was aiming and a little to the left.

“Well, your target’s dead,” Pearl said. “But it’ll be messy and showy. Carotid artery, lots of blood. Not a clean kill, but not bad for a first shot. Want to try again?”

I nodded, chambering another round and peering down the scope. I felt a bit calmer now. Our education had covered this. I aimed higher and to the right of where I’d shot the last time.

I heard Clem call to Pearl, telling her that she was finished with her rifle now. I didn’t pay attention. I was staring down the scope, taking long, slow breaths. Another pop, another jerk into my shoulder, and this time, the hole appeared dead in the center of the target’s head.

No comment from Pearl, but a click from the control panel moved the target back another fifty meters. I adjusted my aim and shot again. Another two hits. The first one a little low but still on the head. After those two, she moved it out to the maximum distance of the shooting range, one hundred and fifty meters.

I could hear Clem cursing softly after she took a few shots.

“Squeeze the trigger, don’t jerk it,” Pearl told her. Clem responded with more unintelligible cursing.

I took a deep breath and shifted my aim up about three centimeters. The jitters were long gone. For the first time in my life outside of a book, I felt in my element, comfortable and at ease.

My heartbeat was even and slow, although I could still feel a gentle tick-tick-tick in my fingertips as I squeezed the trigger again.

But it was good. It was right.

This time, all three shots landed on the head, nearly equal distance from each other, forming a crooked triangle. I looked up from my scope, unable to stop my lips from curling into a stupid grin.

Another click of the controls brought the target buzzing across the range towards us. Clem was already looking at her target after five shots, and the expression on her face was less than pleased.

“A good grouping,” Pearl noted while examining mine. She used a pen to mark the spots where my bullets had struck with an X. She wrote the distance down too, taking the time to circle the triangle I had made.

I moved over to check out Clem’s paper target, and I saw why she wasn’t pleased. Her shots had all been from fifty meters away, and only two had struck the head. A few had hit center mass, another in the neck, but multiple shots were missing altogether.

“It’s because I had to take it apart again,” Clem explained, scowling. “It ruined the calibrating of the rifle. I would have had it otherwise.”

I nodded. “That was probably it. I bet you get way more hits next time.”

Clem smiled, reaching out to squeeze my hand. I squeezed back.

* * *

Over the next few hours, Clem did manage some improvement, even putting together a neat grouping out at a hundred and fifty meters. She had a problem with the moving targets though, only hitting one of the five through the shoulder.

“Fucking godsdamn piece of shit!” she yelled as her last shot hit the back of the wall, missing all six targets completely. She picked the rifle up off the tripod and threw it on the dusty floor as hard as she could.

My eyes fell on Pearl, wondering how she would react, but she was on her pad, tapping away at what looked like a message.

“You break it, you pay for it, darling,” Pearl finally said, putting her pad back in her pocket. “Not that you have any money, but I’m sure we can find some extra chores for you to do.”

Clementine looked angrier than I had seen her in a long time. “It’s not my fault that this thing doesn’t shoot straight.”

The last time she’d been like this, she’d just stuck a knife in Alonso’s shoulder.

Pearl remained perfectly calm. “Gun’s fine. You just need more practice.”

Clem scowled. “I’ve been practicing.”

“For what, three hours?” Pearl shook her head. “You have an affinity for close combat, but that doesn’t mean you’ll automatically excel at everything you try. Take Abigail here, for example.” She motioned at me, and I felt myself blush. “She has a talent for this, with a required patience that many otherwise lack. Learn from her as she has learned from you.”

Clem’s eyes darted to me, still angry. I thought she was about to lash out at me, but instead, she simply sighed. “Fine,” she muttered, bending to pick the rifle back up. She put it on the blanket and started taking it apart. “I’ll clean it and try again.”

She had to clean dust from some of the pieces, but by the time she was finished and folding the blanket up, Pearl had left and come back with what looked like a thick belt made of leather.

“These aren’t really my specialty,” Pearl said, laying the belt on the table. “It’s more Galion’s thing. Talk to him, and he’ll teach you how to use them.”

Clem leaned in closer to the belt, her hands touching the Velcro strap that kept it closed. Eagerly, she pulled it open, and for a moment, her eyes seemed to gleam.

There was a line of knives inside. Some throwing blades. A fifteen-centimeter-long combat knife. Another that was longer, curving at the edge. There were so many kinds, most of which I’d never seen before. Each of the grips were charcoal black, and the metal a kind of gray. Upon closer inspection, they didn’t look fully real.

Clem was utterly entranced. “Are these for me?”

“For your training, yes,” Pearl answered with a smile. “Keep them clean and sharp. When you’re ready or during one of your training missions, you’ll be given real and proper weapons. For now, learn to use these.”

“Thank you, Miss Pearl!” Clem exclaimed, already jogging toward the exit.

“Where are you going?” asked Pearl.

“To find Mr. Galion, of course!” she replied. “I want to get started right away!”

When she was gone, I turned back to Pearl. “So I’m not getting a belt of knives?” I asked.

“No,” Pearl said, a smile on her lips as she placed a hand on my shoulder. “I have something else in mind for you.”

10

My eyes flicked left and right. My heart pounded in my ears, and my stomach tightened.

I had gone over this drill for what felt like a hundred times, but it never failed to lodge my heart in my throat. I blinked a droplet of sweat from my eyes, and my fingers held tightly to the rubber grip of the pistol in my hands.

It was small, easy to conceal, and relatively quiet, made even more so by the ten-centimeter suppressor. The downside was that a gun this small had very little in the way of stopping power. That meant that each shot had to count. I had to be precise.

Pearl had spent the better part of the last three months drilling me in the various advantages and drawbacks of each choice of firearm.

And I had to admit, I liked them all very much.

I brushed my arm across my eyes, wiping the sweat away as I moved slowly. I kept my senses attuned to any sounds around me as I moved toward the corner, careful to control my breathing the way that Pearl had taught me to. It didn’t slow my heart rate, but it did keep my hands from shaking.

The training still wasn’t easy. I had mixed feelings every time I went to bed, and I kept dreaming about pistols and target dummies, but at this moment, I felt a whisper of a thrill inside my chest, a rush of exhilaration that pulled at me in ways I’d never felt before I learned to hold a gun. A sense of satisfaction came from doing something that I was good at. It was hard, but each solution that I reached felt natural and easier each time.

I took in a deep breath, dropping down into a squat and twisting my body around the nearby corner. I had to hit the targets before they hit me.

As soon as I had one in sight, I squeezed the trigger. The gun kicked lightly back into my hand, and I released two rapid shots with great precision, tagging the dummy as it swung around, bringing its laser towards me. As the red beam landed on the wall beside me, it disappeared, seemingly dead. Another rotating dummy appeared through the leftmost wall, this time knowing my exact position. Smart targets, Pearl had called them. They learned where I was from my actions, which made things all the more difficult.

Still, I couldn’t hear my heartbeat anymore.

I squeezed the trigger again. The small weapon coughed and jumped back in my hands. The new target went still as the bullet slammed into its center red ring, located where the head would be, indicating a kill shot.

Another came from the rear immediately, this one swinging its head and torso, breaking my view of the targets on its body. I brought the barrel to meet the dummy and immediately fired two quick shots, each at its head.

Hit. Hit. Dead.

The dummy stopped rotating and came to a complete stop, slumping its head and arms forward to simulate death.

Three targets. Three kills.

Clean kills were essential to our work. They kept the organization in demand, high at the top of our clients’ call list.

I still wasn’t sure how old the organization was. Angus the V.I. always deflected my questions when I asked. Probably Mulberry’s fault.

He was also the cause of the extra stress that I had dealt with during this mock-mission. Over the months since our mission with Pearl, Mulberry had come to watch me train. Not all the time, but it was typical to find him watching me once or twice a week. I wasn’t sure why he did that, except that he must be trying to decide if I was worth keeping around. I couldn’t say I blamed him for that. I was nothing compared to the rest of them.

Pearl, for example, was a real artist with guns. She could hit every target faster than me, and she knew so much about firearms that I found it inspiring. Her mind was like an encyclopedia of death.

“Range is clear,” I called behind me.

Pearl entered, squatting down to inspect the dummies. She put a marker on where each shot landed. I moved towards her for a closer look.

“Not bad, Abby,” she said, a sense of satisfaction on her face. It was a rare but pleasing thing to see, and I found myself hoping for it every time we did this. “Not bad at all.”

I grinned back, doing a small mock-curtsy. “Why, thank you, Miss Pearl.”

“Keep in mind, no matter how good the dummies, real people are unpredictable.” I heard a deep rumble of a voice from behind me.

I had learned to anticipate Mulberry’s silent approaches. They no longer took me by surprise like they had when I first came to this place. Back then, I could have sworn to the gods that he was actually a ghost, capable of walking through walls.

Perhaps he was, and I had only grown used to it.

“Headshots all around.” Mulberry came closer. “You know, I think we may have a budding prodigy on our hands.”

“Pearl’s a great teacher, Mr. Pryar,” I answered. “She could teach anyone to do this.”

Pearl cocked her brow and smiled at me, taking a moment to ruffle my hair playfully as she walked past me.

“Keep it going, kid,” said Mulberry, giving me a slight nod. “You have a long way to go, but you’re getting there.”

I smiled and returned the nod. I wanted to ask if Clementine could join me but refrained. The two of us still had class together, as well as general exercise and hand-to-hand combat lessons, but the specialization lessons were taken individually. Pearl was teaching me how to handle a wide selection of firearms, while Clem was undergoing similar instruction in knives and blades of all sorts from Galion.

I had seen him fighting, and I estimated that he had to be Number Four or Five in the guild. I took a few classes from him myself, trying to expand my skill set. While I wasn’t at Clementine’s level, I could feel myself improving a lot with each session. My confidence was better than it had once been, and it made everything else so much easier.

“Well, it’s time for lunch,” Mulberry said. “But I want you and Clementine reporting to my office right after. I have something that I need to talk to the two of you about. Understood? Shall we say, an hour from now?”

“Yes, Mr. Pryar,” I said, inspecting my pistol and twisting the suppressor off the barrel. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

“Did he tell you what this was about?” Clementine asked, jogging to catch up with me.

I shook my head. “He just said to be in his office right after lunch. Said he had something he needed to talk to us about.”

Clem narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

I turned around, surprised. “What? Nothing. I didn’t do anything. He just told me—”

“I’m kidding, you idiot,” she said with a laugh. She grinned and pressed her fist into my shoulder. “You need to work on not being so gullible.”

“I’m not that gullible. I—” I paused, not sure how to continue that argument. “Okay, fine. I’ll work on it.”

Clem grinned. “Adorable.”

It was my turn to playfully punch her in the shoulder, so I did.

The door was open when we arrived, and Mulberry was already seated at his desk, reading over something on his pad. We quietly entered and took our seats opposite him.

“We have a new assignment on Osiris,” he started, the low rumble of his voice still unmistakable as he set the pad down on the desk and looked up at us. “A kill order on a member of one of the criminal factions here in Ruto.”

So this was another job. We’d gone with Pearl on fourteen individual assignments by now. Each time, the work had been easier, smoother, simpler than before. We had done as she’d told us, and slowly, we were able to take more responsibility. Never any kills, though. We both still had yet to pull the actual trigger ourselves. I suspected that time would come eventually, although I wasn’t looking forward to it.

“Why isn’t Pearl here for this?” asked Clementine, and I suddenly realized she was right. Pearl had always been in the room during a mission brief.

“She’s not going with you this time,” he said plainly.

The two of us paused, blinking curiously at the old man before everything finally clicked.

“Are you saying—” Clementine paused, excitement bubbling up in her expression. “Are you saying this is ours?”

He nodded.

I raised my brow. I could see Clementine almost jumping out of her seat, only stopping herself by gripping the arms of the chair.

“I—we’re ready, Mr. Pryar!” she said, grinning.

Again I found myself caught up in my sister’s excitement, smiling despite the growing dread in my stomach.

A job of our own? I couldn’t fathom the idea. We’d improved in our training, been on a handful of missions, but we weren’t experts yet. Far from it, actually.

“That’s what Pearl and Galion have been telling me, Clementine, but I’ll still be joining the two of you on this assignment. There’s a fantastic little sandwich shop right in the area that makes the best meatball subs this side of Epsy, I swear to gods.” He looked longingly into the air above us like he was picturing the food.

It made sense, I supposed. Our first assignment would have to be supervised, but it only made the knot in my stomach worse. If I failed, it would be under Mulberry’s eye.

His smile disappeared as he picked his pad up, flicking the screen towards the left wall, which carried the image from the device and blew it up tenfold.

“The target’s name is Jodie Crom,” said Mulberry, right as the man’s face appeared, along with a series of details regarding his appearance and some key info about his past. He was a pudgy-looking man with pale skin, a receding hairline, and what looked like a lazy eye. “He’s a front-runner for a smuggling ring that deals mostly in weapons here on the planet. He’s been known to trade in other areas, including drugs and sex trafficking. Over the last few years, he’s grown his wealth as well as his belly, and it’s made him slow and clumsy. I thought he’d an easy way to break the two of you in.”

I studied the man’s face, but also Clem’s. There was something manic in her eyes, the look of storm clouds brewing. She looked confident. Determined. I was glad for that because it meant we wouldn’t fail.

“The research for the job’s already been done,” Mulberry continued, running through a series of stills of Crom’s house, with marked notes for entry and exit. A handful of suggestions in handwriting that I recognized.

Not everyone in the organization was an assassin. A lot of them were security specialists whose job was to plan out the operations, finding points of entry and available exits, weak spots in security, and to make any suggestions to allow for a seamless and smooth operation.

Mulberry clicked the screen back to a picture of Jodie Crom. “Our target has some breathing difficulties, as well as high cholesterol. Introducing a very common cholesterol medication known for constricting the airways via aerosol form will make for the smoothest kill. Normally, you’d only take a small amount of it per day, but we’re giving a heavy dose of concentrate, which should suffocate the target while he sleeps. Undetectable. Untraceable.” Mulberry leaned back in his seat, studying us. “However, since you two will be the boots on the ground, you may need to adapt and come up with an alternative, should things go south.”

Clementine couldn’t stop herself this time, jumping lightly to her feet. “You can count on us!”

He smiled. “I know. Now, for your first job, we’ll be providing you with suits.” He tapped a small screen embedded in his desk. “Pearl, are you here with the equipment yet?”

The door opened, and Pearl came in with a couple of full-body jumpsuits in her hands. I tried to look into her eyes, but she avoided my gaze as she placed the suits on the table and left without saying a word.

Clem and I both stared as she left. I wondered what was wrong? Was she mad at us? It was always hard to tell with Pearl.

“These are top of the line,” Mulberry said, pulling our attention back to the equipment. “The same kind of light body armor that is standard for our operatives. The surface is a matte black. So long as you stay in the shadows, you’ll be out of sight. It also blocks infrared and radar, as well as having a temperature regulator, so it will shield you from heat scans. Even so, it doesn’t always work against the more sophisticated security systems, so you should still be careful. Remember your training. Don’t rely too heavily on technology. Machines and fancy suits are great, but at the end of the day, your own skills are what will keep you alive. The rest of the details will be transferred to your pads. Get your suits on and report to the shuttle bay in thirty minutes.”

11

I sat in the back of the shuttle, tugging at the uniform. I was supposed to look like the service staff of the building we were infiltrating, but I felt silly. The outfit fit me to perfection, slightly baggy to accommodate the body armor underneath.

Running my finger over it, I could feel the armor slightly adjusting to my movements, adapting to protect my body.

I’d get used to both the armor and the service outfit soon, I decided, and leaned back in my seat.

It was odd to think that when I woke up this morning and pictured what I’d be doing this evening, it had been something entirely different. Since I didn’t have any other classes, I’d hoped to catch up on a book I was reading. It was called SmokeBarrel, a story about a female Renegade who had found herself stranded in a small desert town. She’d taken a contract to pay for repairs on her ship, but the job had led to a surprising series of events that would ultimately lead her to take down a powerful warlord. The Renegade’s name was Shelly Connors, and she had a certain way of speaking that I found admirable. Brash and brave, forward and direct. She was never afraid to tell someone how she felt about them.

It was easy to escape into a world where I wasn’t the one having to fight all the fights. Where someone who should, by all standards, be the villain, but would so often chose to do the right thing.

“Hey, are you listening to me?”

I looked up, blinking and focusing back on what was in my hand. It was the pad with the information on the target. I had zoned out while reading it and had even flipped a few pages down without thinking. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said to Clem, blinking. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”

“Come on,” she said, smacking my knee. I felt the armor react to the touch. “This is it. This is where we prove ourselves and show everyone that we’re ready to be part of the team. Can’t you be a little excited?”

I looked away from the pad, trying and failing to fake the emotion she wanted to see.

She placed a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not scared, are you?”

I shrugged. “Not scared,” I lied. “It’s just, the anticipation is getting to me.”

Her arms wrapped around my neck in a warm hug. “We’re going to rock this, you and me. Just keep that in mind, and we’ll do fine.”

I nodded. She was right. Whatever was bothering me didn’t seem to have the same effect on Clem. She could do this job well enough for both of us.

Mulberry’s voice boomed from the front of the shuttle. “Fear or anticipation for the task ahead is something that everyone feels.” I felt a flush run over my cheeks, embarrassed that he’d heard our conversation. “No matter how experienced. It’s adrenaline, getting your body ready for what’s to come. You’ll get used to it. Learn to control it and make it your strength.”

“Hey, boss,” Clem called to Mulberry. “When do we get our numbers?”

“This job formally initiates you into the organization,” Mulberry said. “Once it’s finished, you’ll be assigned individual numbers for field use. Until then, over the radio, I’ll just call you Raven and Sparrow.”

“Am I Raven?” Clem asked.

“You’re the one with black hair,” he answered. “What do you think?”

“So I’m Sparrow?” I asked. “I like that.”

The shuttle came to a stop. Mulberry unstrapped himself from the driver’s seat and came back, handing Clementine a small bag.

“This is an exit bag. Has Pearl explained these to you before?” he asked.

We both nodded. Exit bags were used for suicide, at least most of the time, but could be used as a silent attack as well. The bags had the benefit of being an inert, untraceable gas that was already naturally present in the atmosphere, wouldn’t cause an alarm response in the target while they slept, and guaranteed death in a way that would seem reasonable to a coroner as consistent with the risks of certain medications, of which this man took many.

“We’ll handle it,” Clem said with confidence. She took the bag and tucked it inside her suit.

Mulberry nodded. “The kill will be fast and simple. He’ll be in his room, sleeping next to his latest woman. Clementine will take the kill. Abigail, I want you on lookout.”

We both nodded.

Mulberry pulled out a key card and handed it to me. “You need to be in and out before anybody realizes that the target is dead. Keep an eye on the exits and find the escape routes. If you run into security, take care of them and keep moving. Never stay in one place for longer than thirty seconds. That key card will get you past the lobby and up to the target’s floor. I’ll be down here, and you can contact me over the comms. Remember to not call each other by name while inside, and only call me Comm.” He placed a hand on each of our shoulders, an intense look in his eyes. “Good luck.”

We stepped out of the back of the shuttle, pulling on long trench coats to cover our suits and gear. The target lived in a fifty-story luxury apartment building.

There were cameras and security, but both were made with the interest of protecting the privacy of the wealthy inhabitants.

“Nervous, Sparrow?” Clementine asked me.

“Excited, Raven,” I answered in a deadpan voice.

My eyes were already studying the outside of the building. I gulped, trying to hide my apprehension, and then the two of us walked toward the building.

* * *

We reached an unguarded side entrance, far from the main lobby.

There was a moment of panic as the card processed, then relief hit me as the light blinked green, and the magnetic lock released the door.

The first area appeared to be a laundry room, but none of the machines were running, and no one was around. “Looks like everyone’s gone for the night,” said Clem.

The comm in my ear clicked to life. “We chose tonight because it’s a holiday,” said Mulberry. “The building has a skeleton crew. Security is a different story. Check the third dryer nearest to you. Number sixteen. It has two packs of clothes inside. Find them now and remember the location for later.”

Clem popped the lid on the dryer and pulled out two bags, each marked with a blue label. We’d gotten used to the drill by now, having done this with Pearl so many times.

She shoved them back inside and tapped her ear. “Got them.”

“Now bring up the map of the building and work your way to the target,” explained Mulberry.

We reached the elevator, and I pressed the card into a second sensor. This one reacted immediately, probably lacking the kind of security programs the first one had. A screen came to life, showing an image of the building and a message: “Seventeenth floor: Confirm?”

I pressed the green button, and the doors closed, slowly taking us up to the seventeenth floor. I looked down at my suit, which was covered by the coat. It still looks wrong, I thought as I pulled on a pair of thin, black gloves and drew my pistol from its holster under my shoulder.

“You any good with that?” Clem asked, checking the pack with the canister.

“I’m not bad.” I pulled the slide back to load a round into the chamber and flipped the safety off, making sure that the suppressor was fitted tight. “Are you any good with those?” I asked, eyeing her knives.

Clem grinned, lacking any kind of modesty as she drew a pair of knives from their sheaths. “One of the best, I’ve been told.”

I returned her smile.

Despite the jokes, I could sense the anticipation in my body begin to rise. It was always like this. Jittery before the action but focused when it started.

I had a fifteen-centimeter combat knife tucked into a sheath strapped to my right thigh, as well as three extra magazines for the pistol. If I needed more beyond that, we already failed.

Clem, for her part, had brought a belt of knives and nothing more. I wondered if that had been Galion’s recommendation.

A soft ping signaled our arrival. I rolled my neck and pulled on a mask to cover my face, then raised the pistol as the door opened while Clem also slipped on her mask.

The elevator opened right into the target’s apartment. It was one of the most lavish places I’d ever seen, steeped in glimmering glass on every wall, fine furniture with velvet cloth, and a sparkling chandelier hanging over the dining room table. Soft evening lights illuminated the inner hallways, lending the apartment a dreamlike quality.

I licked my suddenly dry lips and covered the living and dining rooms quickly before gesturing to Clem that it was clear. The target’s bedroom wasn’t much farther.

I checked my pad with my free hand. Odd. No motion or heat sensors. Maybe they only relied on the security down in the lobby.

I tucked the thought in the back of my mind for later as Clem waved for me to keep going.

We reached the other side, and she leaned in close to me. “The brief says that the security teams for each floor have a pretty impressive response time. So we can’t let the target’s wife hit the panic button or scream, I guess, until we’re already clear.”

I nodded as I scanned our surroundings, keeping my stance low and tightening my grip on the pistol. The second floor had a balcony that looked over the first. It led directly into a hallway with a couple of doors branching out to the right and to the left. According to surveillance, the target would be in a bedroom about twenty paces down the hall at the end of the fork.

“How big is this place?” I whispered as we moved down the hall, keeping my voice low and my senses on high alert.

Clem stepped in behind me and slightly to my left. “I’d rather know how expensive it is to live here. If you had all this money, wouldn’t you leave this city? It’s a shithole.”

I shrugged. We had been living rent-free in the complex for the entirety of our training, and more than a few of the already established operatives had their own individual rooms. I’d never cared much for fancy things or high-rise buildings.

Honestly, I’d never considered where I’d live after we left the guild. Between the orphanage and this, I’d never had to think about it. I shook the thought from my mind. Now was the time to focus on the task at hand.

We reached the fork, and I glanced down both sides before giving Clem the all-clear. The left-hand hallway had a single door leading to the master bedroom, where our target would be sleeping. I moved towards it, gingerly reaching for the antique gold door handle, and twisting it. Despite its apparent age, it was perfectly oiled and turned without making a sound.

The door swung open silently.

I realized I was holding my breath and exhaled slowly. There wasn’t much light in the room, but I noticed two figures on the bed—one covered, the other not. The uncovered figure was a man, sleeping completely in the nude, snoring gently.

He appeared to match the description of our target, but we’d have to move closer to verify.

I motioned with my head for Clementine to go in while I kept watch. She moved slowly towards the bed, stepping lightly over the carpeted floor as I peeked out the door. There was no sign that our entrance had been noticed. Yet.

The guy was rich, and he was a criminal, yet he still slept in his own bed every night, right next to someone he cared about. Most of my assumptions about the people in this kind of business, with these kinds of resources, led me to think of numerous infidelities. Maybe that was true of him. Maybe not. Maybe this was the love of his life.

Even for criminals, true love was bound to happen.

I turned back to watch Clementine, who had made her way over to the bed. She took out the exit bag and quietly stood there, waiting.

Her eyes fixated on the sleeping criminal, watching his chest heave in the dark. The mask hid her expression, except for her eyes, which seemed to narrow in contemplation momentarily. After a few seconds, she took the canister and placed it back in her waist pocket.

What was she doing? Was the act of killing him too much for her? I couldn’t blame her for that. Neither of us had ever done something like this, so it made sense to be afraid. I wanted to reach out to her, to touch her arm and tell her not to worry. Maybe we just weren’t ready for—

Clementine pulled a long, wickedly curved knife from her belt, bringing it above the man in the bed. It gleamed in the light from the window, reflecting off the nearby wall.

I stiffened, opening my mouth to ask what the hell she was doing, but I didn’t dare make a sound. Not even a whisper.

I shook my head, waving a hand at her to grab her attention, but she didn’t respond. I took a step closer to her, hoping to draw her focus away from the target and back to me. If I could just talk to her, figure out what she was thinking, maybe we could—

Clem plunged the knife into the man with a meaty slash. The man’s eyes bulged open. Blood spurted over the bed sheets as he desperately tried to inhale. A lungful of blood made breathing impossible, and he let out a loud, strangled garble.

The woman woke up immediately. Her eyes turned towards Clem, who leaped on top of the man and straddled his waist. She pulled the knife back out of him and plunged it once more into his shoulder, then into his neck, and repeated the process three more times. With a swift and final slash, she tore the blade through the target’s throat, sending a spray of blood onto the woman beside him.

There could be only one reaction.

The lady screamed. It was the kind of shriek that you heard in horror holos—loud, high-pitched enough to break glass, and more importantly, it carried itself far and wide. The security team would hear it, even through the walls.

We were done.

“Shit,” Clem said as she jumped over the target’s corpse and reached for the frantic woman, but she had already rolled off the bed.

I circled around, not quite knowing what to do. The woman reached underneath the bedside table, pressing a button just before Clem reached her with the freshly drawn kukri knife, stabbing her in the side of her neck and dragging the blade from end-to-end. Another muted thud followed as the woman hit the floor, blood rinsing out of her like a piece of butchered meat. Clementine scrambled out of the bed and dove towards her, using another knife to slit the woman’s throat.

I turned away, anxious and terrified, not to mention absolutely sick to my stomach.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, turned away from the scene.

Clem didn’t respond. She simply looked towards the door I was supposed to be guarding. “Listen!” she snapped, motioning with her bloodied knife to the hall.

Footsteps and voices were growing steadily closer.

“Time to go!” I snapped.

Clem nodded, and we fled into the nearby hall. The dining room came into view, the glistening chandelier sparkling above us. Not far to the elevator from here. We just had to—

A heavyset man came charging from another corridor. Clem leaped clear of his path, but I wasn’t fast enough. He slammed directly into me, shoving me into the nearby table. I slid across it, rolling across the middle of the floor until I hit the wall.

Even though it all happened before I could process it, the suit absorbed most of the damage. I pushed myself on my side, locating the thick man with padded armor on his chest. He had a tattoo on his neck, although I couldn’t make it out in the dark, and a metallic, prosthetic arm. Based on how hard he’d hit me, the arm made sense.

I retrieved my pistol, but he was too fast. The gun left my hand as his foot slammed into my fingers. While nothing broke, I still screamed.

He raised his metal arm again, but I dodged, kicking at his face in a desperate attempt to keep him away. Suddenly, Clem charged him, sticking one of her knives into his shoulder.

He reacted by swinging his arm around and hitting her in the stomach.

The force knocked her into the nearby kitchen but gave me enough time to move away from him. As he turned his attention on me again, I frantically searched for anything to use as a weapon. A lamp. That was all I could—

I grabbed hold of the bar and yanked the cord from the wall, hitting the guard with the base of it, directly in his shin. He cursed, and I feared it only made him angrier.

“Hey!” shouted Clem.

We both turned to the kitchen nook, where she stood at the counter with a set of kitchen knives.

They flew at him, one after the next, and he managed to block the first few with his arm, but had to move to avoid the rest. Even with the armor, Clem’s throws were deadly. He was smart to avoid—

A butcher knife flew between us, colliding with the man’s knee with such force that it stuck.

I found my gun in the chaos, then got to my feet.

The man raised his metal arm towards me, and it began to morph into something else. A barrel at the end.

“Sparrow!” cried Clem, coming back from the kitchen in a full sprint.

She dove onto the guard’s neck, stabbing his shoulder with her knife just in time to send his bullet into the wall beside me.

I ran close, leaping over his arm and digging the pistol into his neck.

I fired, splitting his throat on both sides.

Clem backed off, and I shot him again in the temple, finally causing him to go limp.

We were both heaving, breathing hard enough that it burned. “Gods,” I muttered.

“What’s going on in there?” called Mulberry over the comm. “Is the target eliminated?”

“Confirmed,” said Clem, holding the nearby wall as she tried to catch her breath.

“Then I want you gone. Get to the laundry department and—”

Two men appeared from the hall behind us. In the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten to watch my surroundings. One of them rushed me, but I reacted at once, sidestepping the attack.

The world seemed to slow as he went to grab me, and I responded automatically, bringing my pistol to his chest and firing. Centimeters from his ribs, the gun sent the bullet all the way through, and he fell away from me, dead before he hit the floor.

The bright flash blinded me from staring directly at the gun when it went off, and I dropped the weapon in surprise.

Clem’s yell registered over the ringing in my ears, and she jumped nimbly beside me, charging at the second man. A knife in her hand flicked toward his neck. He evaded the knife and grabbed Clem by the neck with his uninjured hand. Stopping her in her tracks, he paused briefly with an ugly smile then lifted her off the floor with a single hand.

“No!” I snapped.

I jumped forward, forgetting my gun on the floor, and drew the knife from its sheath on my thigh. The monster tracked my movements, but Clem tossed her knife into her other hand and stabbed it firmly into his bicep.

He roared but kept his grip on her neck.

I circled around, my heart hammering at seeing Clem being suspended like that. Her face was already turning a dangerous shade of purple. I jumped on top of the man from behind, tangling my legs around his torso and wrapping my free hand around his neck.

He reached back for me, and I quickly stabbed him in the shoulder. The wound didn’t slow him down. He grabbed the top of my head and tried to dislodge me, so I dug the knife into him again. And again. And again, punching the short, broad blade through the thick muscles in his neck. I was trying to find his carotid artery, but in the middle of so much muscle, I had a hard time of it.

Warm blood splattered my mask and coated my arm while the man’s grip on me loosened. He finally dropped Clem as she fell to her knees gasping for air and clutching her throat. I dropped down as the man staggered forward, trying in vain to staunch the wounds, but collapsing before taking more than three steps.

My eyes were on Clem. I wiped the knife clean on my sleeve before sheathing it and running over to my sister’s side. She pulled her mask up to breathe freely but coughed as soon as it was off. I knelt beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“You okay, Cl—Raven?” I asked.

She didn’t answer, only nodding as she struggled to her feet and pulled the mask back down.

My earpiece buzzed as Mulberry’s trademark growl filtered through it. “I just intercepted a call to the local authorities about someone triggering a silent alarm. I suggest you leave. Now. Do you hear me, Sparrow? Raven?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, then gestured for Clem to follow me. I swept up my gun from the floor on my way out, while Clem picked up her throwing knife.

I sprinted for the end of the hall, skidding to a halt and spinning around once I reached the elevator. Clem was right at my heels as I entered the lift. My throat felt dry, my hands sweaty inside my gloves, but I tried to keep a cool head.

What would Pearl do?

The light above the elevator blinked, indicating that it was on its way to us. “We’re about to have company,” muttered Clem, placing her back to the wall beside the lift doors.

I positioned myself on the adjacent side, giving my pistol one last check before the elevator opened. “Raven, I—” I paused, trying not to panic. It took everything in me to stay calm. “Maybe we should try another way. Didn’t the plans show an emergency exit?”

Clem hesitated. “The alarm will sound if we go that way.”

“That’s good,” I said, grabbing her wrist. “We can use it as a distraction. Come on! We took those other guys down, but we can’t handle an entire team.”

She blinked, processing everything. “R-right. You’re right.”

I brought up the building schematics and pulled her with me, heading to the far end of the hall and around the end corner, straight into a closed set of doors. We both looked at one another, then shoved the silver handles inward, causing the overhead lights to come on and the alarm to sound.

“Emergency! Emergency!” stated the automated system. “Evacuation protocols initiated. Remain calm and proceed to the nearest exit.”

“Let’s go!” I shouted, yanking Clem’s hand through the opening and into the stairwell. We shuffled down to the next floor, leaping two or three steps at a time, trying to outpace the residents from the other floors. As soon as my feet hit the bottom level, I peered up to see almost every single door open, filling the stairs with shuffling footsteps as the building’s residents arrived.

We were both breathing heavily, our black suits obscuring the red blood that coated us. I quickly checked my gun, opting to replace the magazine before continuing.

I had been through hundreds of training sessions, and while it wasn’t exactly the same, I had gone from feeling overly anxious to focused. Somehow, all of that training had worked, and I’d found myself ready.

I could do this. I could be an assassin.

A short corridor later, we found the laundry room. As we had with Pearl on the first mission, we exchanged our outfits with the blue-marked bags in the dryer and got dressed quickly.

I tossed on my fresh shirt, pants, and jacket. Clem did the same. I pulled the mask off my face, placing it inside my suit’s leg compartment. It was still wet with blood and sweat.

We packed our old clothes into the same dryer and started through the same door we’d entered when we first arrived, heading into the back alleyway and towards the eastern street.

The crowd had already gathered there, filling the entire area with a bustling mob of confused people. Children cried in their parents’ arms, while others complained loud enough to be equally distracting.

Several police vehicles lined the street, shining lights that mimicked a circus show. I stepped into the mob, staying quiet and trying not to bump into anyone. Clem followed, saying nothing.

When we were safely on the other side, I fled into the park, getting behind a set of thick trees. Our pace quickened from there, and we raced to Mulberry’s shuttle.

“We did it!” Clem yelled, skipping instead of running.

“We’re not out of it yet,” I said.

Clem rolled her eyes. “I know we’re not,” she said, although now she was whispering. “But we got the target, and we’re out of the building.” She giggled, genuinely satisfied.

Mulberry’s shuttle was at the same place we’d left it. The doors opened, and we jumped inside with the engines already primed and ready. As we lifted off the ground, Mulberry stepped hard on the accelerator, and we quickly careened away from the building.

“What the hell happened in there?” Mulberry asked, looking back at us as his growl turned into something closer to a roar.

He had a dangerous look in his eyes, almost murderous.

“The target was awake and on his feet when we got to the room,” Clem said before I could answer. “Might have been going for a piss or something. We had to act, but we woke up the wife.”

Mulberry’s eyes shifted over to me for confirmation.

I hesitated.

Clem’s eyes were on me too, so I sighed. “H-he saw us,” I said, nearly vomiting out the words. “I moved deeper into the room than I should have. That’s why I wasn’t covering the door.”

Clem grinned and turned back to Mulberry. “We took care of it, though. Got every single one of them. You should’ve seen us, Number One. We were out of this world!”

12

Getting used to a regular schedule the next day was going to be difficult.

My face had swelled up during our getaway from where the giant had clipped me. I had to spend hours with a cold pack to get it back down to something resembling normal again. In the heat of the moment, I had taken more bumps and scrapes than I had noticed and was feeling achy and painful all over.

My ears were still ringing from the unsilenced shots, and it was painful to move after I had gone to bed.

They canceled most of our classes for the next day. Angus only showed up on my pad to pass along a couple of lessons regarding the physics involved in a shot spanning more than one thousand meters. I couldn’t bring myself to look at it.

For the first few hours of the day, all I could do was stare up at the ceiling. Exhausted after the mission, I was practically falling asleep on the way back home. My sleep had been dreamless, but when I woke up, the memories of what happened the night before—what I had done—all came back to me in a slow ebb.

First, watching Clementine kill the target herself. I didn’t dispute that it needed to be done. We were on the job, and the man was a terrible human being. I would be lying if I thought anybody other than his mother would miss him. No, he wasn’t bothering me.

It was Clementine.

There was a desire in her eyes when she moved over him. It hadn’t been enough to simply kill the man. She needed to get up close and deliver the killing blow herself, to feel his flesh give way around her blade.

I was hoping I had only imagined the expression on her face. The room was dim, and I’d only had a moment to catch her eyes. Maybe she had intended to do it the right way, but he woke up when she came close. Maybe she had no choice but to use the knife.

Who was I to judge her anyway? I had blood on my hands too. Did it matter if our target died by gas, knife, or gun? Murder was murder, and I’d done my fair share of it.

It took me most of the morning to come to terms with that. Clementine had been up early, gone before I woke up, so I had the room to myself, allowing a long morning of silent contemplation and self-reflection.

“I wonder what Mable would think if she knew,” I said aloud, reaching up into the air above me and grasping at nothing.

My shoulder ached.

I closed my eyes, but all I could see were the bodyguards’ faces. The man charging at me, enraged by the death of his friend. I hadn’t seen the big fellow’s face as I killed him, but I did remember seeing him holding Clementine by the neck, lifting her off the floor, and then I saw red. It didn’t matter to me anymore that he was a human being.

All I knew was that he was hurting my sister, and by every scrap of will in my body, I was going to stop him. It. Whatever.

I rolled over on the bed, reaching underneath and pulling out my book. It was a little worn out. Galion had given it to me, saying that it was one of his favorites. The cover was a bit faded, but it showed a woman in full armor with a gun in her hand, shooting at an unknown enemy. There was a small, scrappy ship, framed with a beautiful view of the sky behind her.

I smiled, running my fingers over the cover.

I found my spot from last time. I usually folded the page where I stopped to make it easier to pick it up the next time I wanted to read, but since it wasn’t mine, I didn’t want to damage it.

I had to give it back once I finished it, of course, but the story made me want to find the rest of the series. There was probably a store in the city that sold hard copies of books. I liked having the physical paper in my hands, reading over the printed letters. It felt more grounded and made it easier to immerse myself in what was happening.

Slipping into the comfort of the pages, I let the day pass me by. I missed lunch. I imagined being in the conflicts the heroine found herself in, sometimes even saying some of her cooler lines aloud.

Clementine thought I was crazy for doing that, but in the end, it was what made the book enjoyable to me. The ability to slip into someone else’s skin for a little while, and be able to escape my own troubles and live life on the gritty edge, where violence was glorious and always had some sort of deeper meaning.

The hours passed, and I even missed that the sun had set. I only had a few chapters left when Clementine returned. She had just come out of the shower from the looks of her wet hair, but her cheeks were flushed, and she had the distinct look of someone who had just finished a vigorous workout.

“Hey, Abby,” she said with a smile. “Have you been in here all day?”

“Yeah,” I answered, putting the book down and stretching. Had it really been all day?

“You need to get some exercise in, stretch those limbs. It’ll help the bruising heal a lot faster.”

I nodded, relaxing against the bed again and looking up at the ceiling. “I know. But with no classes or anything to get to, I just needed some time to myself.”

She looked at me, a confused smile on her face. “What for? We had our first successful job last night. We should be celebrating. I mean, we need to get paid first, but then we should celebrate, right?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. We killed people. I mean, the target was an asshole that deserved it, but what about those guards? Weren’t they just doing their jobs? Did they deserve to die too?”

Clem sat down on her bed, a thoughtful look on her face. “Well, it was them or us, wasn’t it? I mean, they were just doing their job, but they would have killed us, or worse, sent us to jail. Is that what you’d prefer?”

“Of course not,” I said, propping myself up on my elbow. “But it wasn’t them or us, was it? If you’d just used the canister like we’d planned, the wife wouldn’t have woken up until we were already gone, and none of them would’ve had to die.”

“You can’t know that,” she snapped, looking annoyed now. “What if the medicine didn’t work? He could have built up a resistance, or they might not have put the right concentration in the canister or something. With a knife…” She looked down, and I knew she imagined a knife in her hands right now. “With a knife, you can feel it. You just know. There’s no room for error.”

I shook my head and lay back down, staring up.

The researchers had done their jobs. They wouldn’t have suggested the gas if they weren’t sure, and Mulberry had advised us to use it too. It hadn’t been a matter of her doubting the gas’s effectiveness. It couldn’t have been. I knew that she trusted Mulberry well enough.

So why hadn’t she used it?

Clem’s face softened as she moved over to my bed and put a hand on my shoulder. “Look, you noticed how I was going on about what a good job I’d done to Mulberry on the way back?”

I looked at her, confused. “Yeah? What about it?”

She squeezed my shoulder gently. “Well, last night, I saw what you’re capable of. You’re an artist with that gun. It was amazing to watch. Hell, you saved my life when that big fucker had me by the throat. I was feeling insecure. Before then, I never realized how good you were, and well, I think I felt threatened. You were amazing last night. Like, proper godsdamn fantastic.”

I felt my face grow warm, and a small smile touched my lips. “You saved my life too.”

She grinned and brushed her fingers through my short hair. “See? This is what I’m talking about. We’ve got each other’s backs. We’re the future of this organization, and together, we’re damn near unstoppable.”

I placed my hand on her shoulder and grinned. “I certainly hope so.”

“Am I interrupting something?” I looked up to the door where Pearl was standing with an amused expression.

“Just talking about last night is all, Miss Pearl,” Clementine said in an upbeat voice.

“Good, because Mulberry wants to talk to you girls about what happened yesterday too. He wants to see the both of you in his office.”

I got up from the bed, groaning as the pain from the bruises intensified from my moving. I could feel my face throbbing. I pressed my hand up, cradling it gently, and we headed to Mulberry’s office for the second time in as many days.

* * *

When we arrived, Mulberry was waiting for us, and he quickly motioned for us to take our seats.

“How’re you two feeling?” he asked once we sat down.

“I need some ice,” I groaned. “And maybe a few painkillers.”

Mulberry grinned and leaned back in his seat. “We’ll get to that in a bit. For now, we’ll be looking over what happened last night.”

I nodded, feeling a lot more somber about it than Clem apparently did. She could barely keep a smile off her face as Mulberry skimmed over something on his pad.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Clem had clearly enjoyed herself last night and was looking forward to more. I, on the other hand, felt like I’d gone through a crucible. But it was a career that I had chosen for myself. I had no choice but to keep moving forward.

Mulberry glanced up at us. “Well, I heard back from the client. Even though things didn’t go as planned, we’re all chalking this up as a success. Even with the collateral damage, the target is down. There doesn’t seem to be anything leading back to the client or us. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but it was still a win. Congratulations, you two. You both officially graduated.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Graduated?”

“You showed competence in the field, and the ability to improvise on the fly. You need to sharpen your skills a bit more, but that’s not going to happen here at the complex. From now on, you’re official members of our organization. That means you’ll be receiving new assignments, additional access to the armory, and clearance for certain levels of intelligence.” Mulberry smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. Closer to satisfied, but that wasn’t quite it either.

Clementine didn’t notice. She leaned forward in her chair. “So do we get our numbers now?”

“You do indeed,” Mulberry said, leaning forward in his seat and checking his pad. “Clementine, you are now Number Thirty-Six. Abigail, you’re Number Thirty-Seven.”

Clementine grinned. “Cool!”

“But that’s not all. Check your pads. You’ll find bank accounts set up in your names, with monthly deposits and additional bonuses when you complete your missions.”

I pulled my pad out, and sure enough, there was a bank account with a new transfer for two hundred credits. I checked Clem’s, and it said the same.

“Most of the pay went into the creation of your uniforms. But your next job won’t have the same expenses, and you can expect some hefty income soon, once you complete the next assignment. You’ll be traveling between the neighboring colonies and systems, depending on the job. It’s the best business in the world if you’ve got the stomach for it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pryar!” Clementine said, rising from her chair.

“You can drop the formalities, kid. Just call me Mulberry.”

I rose as well but said nothing.

He dismissed us, and the moment the door closed behind us, Clementine punched me in the shoulder. “We did it! We did it!”

“Ow, ow, ow!” I said, genuinely in pain from the night before, but then I feigned a smile, trying to match her excitement. “Yeah, we did it. Great job, Miss Thirty-Six.”

“Hell yeah! Now, what do you say we blow our hard-earned cash in the most irresponsible way we can find, Miss Thirty-Seven?”

I tilted my head, still feeling rather unsettled, but I decided not to show it. Whatever had happened in that building, and whatever Clem’s reasons, I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk about them. “I could use some food,” I said, trying to shift the conversation. “Can we start there?”

13

I concentrated my eyes on the scope and pressed the rifle snugly against my shoulder.

My first instinct was always to close the eye that wasn’t on the scope, but Pearl advised me against it, saying it wasn’t a good habit. It takes focus to keep an eye closed, which takes away from the task at hand. With both of them open, you could better focus on things that mattered, such as breathing and aiming. I didn’t know if I entirely agreed, but even so, I trusted her judgment better than anyone’s, so I’d chosen to do as she told me. No loss in concentration, no difficulties aiming. Whether that was due to keeping my eye open or not didn’t really matter.

My job wasn’t to actually do any shooting today, but if the situation called for it, I was cleared to take out any security that Clementine ran into and couldn’t deal with on her own. For the most part, my job was to be her eyes from a distance, taking lives from afar.

This was our first job off-world, and I’d be damned if I was going to screw it up. Six months working for the organization, and the two of us hadn’t let Mulberry down yet. It was bound to happen, he’d told us, but so far, our record was clean. Everyone in the guild had been on a botched job at some point or another, but ours had yet to happen. I hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible.

And that included today.

“Thirty-Six, I’m seeing a pair patrolling about twenty meters to your left,” I said, training the scope over both of them. As the target reticule touched them, I sent a signal to the HUD of Clementine’s goggles, letting her know where they were.

“Roger that, Thirty-Seven,” she whispered back, shifting to her right. The property had a lot of wide openings. Clementine hugged the shadows and kept to where there were trees and bushes to hide her. Not the easiest method of entry, or the quietest, but we had to take what we had to work with. In this case, brush and foliage with a dash of security patrols.

Our target was a woman named Primrose Fantigue—by all accounts, one of the wealthiest female entrepreneurs on Epsy.

A closer look over her files showed she was one of the largest drug distributors on the planet, and more importantly, a rival to one of our own clients back on Osiris. That meant that it was only a matter of time before someone sent an assassin her way. We just happened to land the contract.

According to our reports, another squad had tried to kill her a few years ago, but they’d botched the job. Still, the attack had left her with an ugly scar across her cheek. She had more than doubled her security afterward, raising the detail from twelve to twenty-five. A wise decision, considering how many people wanted her dead.

This was a career-making job, or career-breaking if things went poorly. Success would solidify our reputations. Failure could mean exposure or death.

This was our biggest job to date. Before now, we’d been given low to mid-tier targets. No one of any significance, but they’d all been dangerous. Mulberry had told us that he’d give us increasingly difficult marks to force us to push past our limits and grow, and it seemed he wasn’t lying.

I shifted my view, guiding my scope up the path that Clementine would take. It would pass within five paces of an open-air pool with a small seating terrace. As Clementine approached it, I scanned the area.

“Hold it,” I whispered. “Someone is coming out.”

Clem froze behind a few bushes, highlighted in a blue silhouette on my scope. Lights shined over the terrace, but they would have a hard time getting any kind of reflection off Clem’s charcoal stealth uniform.

One of the glass doors opened, and a man stepped outside. He was in a security outfit, but his tie was loosened, and he had a cigarette in his hand. As soon as he was far enough away from the building, he pulled out a lighter.

“He’s alone,” Clem whispered softly. “I can take him.”

I agreed. I could take him too. The rifle I had picked out allowed for the 600 meters I needed if we could get the target out in the open. It wasn’t suppressed, though. Even if it were, the sound would still be loud enough to alert the others. I was only to fire in emergencies.

“Make it quick,” I whispered.

She pinged me an affirmative, slipping through the underbrush until she was near the smoking guard. Once she broke cover, she stayed in a crouched position, hiding behind a cabana and a statue of a naked woman as she moved closer, coming up behind him. She was still shorter than I was, and a good head shorter than the guard, but that didn’t really matter. She could kill a man twice her size, and he’d never see it coming.

Through the scope, I saw her wrap a gloved hand around the man’s mouth, causing him to drop the smoking cigarette while striking the knife into his back. Two strikes to deflate the lungs and potentially pierce the heart.

They were deep cuts, and he dropped to his knees, instinct taking over as he reached for his wounds instead of a radio or a weapon. He gasped, surprised and desperate, but it was too late.

Clementine held him in place then ran her knife along his neck, letting the blood drain out like a butchered animal, holding his mouth until he went limp. When he finally stopped struggling, she dropped the corpse and stood up.

“This is getting too easy,” Clem whispered. I couldn’t see her face, but I could tell from her voice that she was smirking.

I sighed. “I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.”

She shrugged. “So? It’s good to enjoy what you do for a living. The important thing is to be good at it, and I—” She paused as she tried the glass door that the guard had come through. It opened. “Well, I’m the best at what I do.”

I rolled my eyes, leaving the rifle on the ground as I stood. We would come back to pick it up when we were finished. In the meantime, the scope would relay direct video feed to my visor, giving me a continuous bird’s eye view of the facility. If the patrols changed or one of them decided to go take a piss, I’d know about it.

“You’re clear,” Clem said through the comms. “You have about eight minutes to get here before they come back around. You’d better get moving.”

“Come on,” I said, breaking into a jog. “I can make a hundred and twenty meters in forty seconds.”

“It’s not a sprint, Thirty-Seven,” Clem said, slipping inside the house to get out of sight. “You still need to sneak across the same path that I did.”

“Your confidence is heart-warming, Thirty-Six,” I said sarcastically, quickly reaching the rope that Clem left for me on the perimeter wall. “Seriously, I’m tearing up over here.”

I vaulted the wall, smoothly reached the top, and pulled up the rope. From there, I rolled under the electrically charged fence before dropping to the grass. I kept to a crouch, scrambling for the bushes that flanked a path leading right to the pool terrace where Clem entered the building. I kept to the same route she’d taken.

We had a map of the various motion sensors, but they were mostly in the front of the property. The rear was known to have birds and other animals sneaking in from the wild area outside the walls. After too many false alarms, our target removed them. Bad move on their part.

It did result in heavier security, but thanks to a simple payoff, we had the schedule and turnover times. By paying off two of the guards, they could show up for their shift change, then leave before anyone noticed. That ten-minute window was all we needed to slip in undetected.

I reached the spot where Clem had left the body in less than two minutes and then moved stealthily across the terrace, where Clem had opened the door for me.

“Lucky we had a smoker to get the door for us, eh?” she whispered as I slipped inside.

I pulled my goggles up. “Yeah. Lucky. Let’s keep our guard up. We’re not finished with this yet.”

I pulled my pistol out, chambering a round before nodding at Clem, telling her to lead the way. We moved quietly through the palatial house, going from the gaming room where we had entered into a gallery and then a study.

Most of the place wasn’t used during the evenings. Honestly, I would have trouble finding a reason for this much space. I understood needing to have a property where one could host parties and social gatherings, but living here alone? I just couldn’t wrap my head around it. Besides, security for a place this big had to be expensive. We’d just demonstrated how it lowered their effectiveness too.

Fantigue’s voice carried as we entered her workspace, and it sounded like an angry one-sided conversation. I motioned for Clem to come forward, since the target had her back to us. She was leaning over her desk, occasionally bringing her hand down, speaking through her comm.

“I’m not going to calm down, you useless fucking weasel,” she said. “That last shipment was short. If the shipments—No, you listen to me. I don’t care how you feel about it. This has happened twice! Am I supposed to let you keep fucking me over, Ray? Is that what you want, you piece of shit? I’m starting to think it might be time for me to find another supplier.” She paused a few seconds. “I don’t give a damn about that! If the next shipment isn’t exactly what we ordered, we’re going to find somebody else! No, scratch that. If the next shipment doesn’t cover what went missing from the last two, you can be sure that I’ll hunt you down and take it out of your fucking corpse!” She slammed her comm down, ending the connection.

The very picture of cool-headedness, this woman. I shifted my grip on my weapon as we cautiously approached her.

I had taken the kill last time, so unless the circumstances demanded it, it was Clem’s turn.

Fantigue spun around, looking like she was about to storm off, but stopped cold when she saw us. To her credit, she didn’t look panicked like most other targets did. She looked angry.

Understandable, I supposed. Her shipment had just come in short, and now there were two people here to kill her.

Not exactly the best day.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asked imperiously, wisely not moving as I had my gun trained on her forehead.

“I’d tell you,” Clem said, using the modulator to warble her voice and sounding a lot like Mulberry, “but I don’t actually have a name.”

Clem approached, walking directly through my line of sight. Fantigue noticed, probably thinking that it was her chance to act. She jerked towards Clem, trying to grab at her, maybe use her as a shield.

This seemed to happen all the time. Everyone thought we were pushovers because we were small and thin. That was a good thing. It meant they’d never see the next part coming.

Clementine sidestepped the woman’s grasp, reaching up and stabbing her knife into Fantigue’s arm. The scarred woman staggered, gripping at where the knife dug in deep, letting out a quick yelp.

Clem didn’t let up. She grabbed hold of Fantigue’s hair and stuck the knife through her lips, cutting her lips on each side to form a kind of permanent smile. From there, she spun the blade around in her mouth, cutting what I guessed was her tongue, and filling her with blood.

The sight of it made me sick.

“No more talking, bitch,” said Clementine, almost giggling.

“H-hey!” I said, raising my hand at her. “What are you—what are you doing? Just end it so we can go!”

Clementine sighed but flicked the knife around into an over-handed grip and stabbed Fantigue in the ribs, near the left kidney. She circled around the woman as she fell to her knees. The final cut went deep into the back. Fantigue’s eyes widened at the sudden disbelief of it—that a girl so small could take everything from her.

I felt sick to my stomach, the same way I always did when I watched Clem in action. The wicked smile across her face gave me chills. In these moments, she looked the happiest, as though this was her true home. I clenched my jaw as I looked away, my eyes scanning the area to make sure that none of the security was coming for us. They weren’t, and when I glanced back at the two women, Clem was cleaning her knife on one of the unstained parts of the dead woman’s shirt.

“Was that really necessary?” I asked when Clem walked towards me.

Clem turned her modulator off and shrugged. “I’m just thorough. Come on. We’ve got to get out of here.”

I nodded, shaking my head as I moved back the way we came. The guards would have returned from their unscheduled break by now, so our way in couldn’t be our way out. Even so, I had kept my mind on a handful of different potential escape routes while memorizing the layout. Back through the wooded area was still our best shot

I motioned for Clem to follow me, and we made our way back to the outside. We came to a halt, hugging the shadows again as a team of four guards jogged past us. They didn’t look concerned, but as they passed, one of them was talking into his comm.

“He’s not here,” one of them said. “Still hasn’t reported back.”

“Keep looking,” one of the men in the middle said. “He may just be taking another smoke break.”

The one in the back grinned. “He’s so getting fired for this.”

They hadn’t found the body yet. They would have the urge to look for a body in a few minutes, and someone would have to report to Fantigue, and then they’d find that body too. We needed to get clear, fast.

We were just a few meters from the wall, and I pointed toward it. Clementine nodded, and as soon as the guards were clear, we ran for it.

I went first, stopping and turning away from the wall, holding my hands out. Clem sprinted for me, jumping into my hands. I heaved upward, letting her get another step on my shoulder.

She scaled the wall and lay prone on top with a leg dangling down for me. I took a few steps back for a running start, sprinted, and reached up to grab her extended leg. She grunted, helping me up, and I finally grasped the top with both hands. Clem slipped over the wall and dropped down on the other side. I landed next to her a second later.

A minute or so after we had cleared the wall, the sound of alarms blared from the property. Men yelled, and dogs barked, but we were already out of reach.

As we made our way through the woods, I didn’t say anything. Clem seemed elated, as she always did when we got the job done. For the first time, I didn’t feel like pretending that I felt the same.

I had seen what she’d done. I’d seen her do it before, but not like that. Never had I seen her enjoy a kill so much or for so long.

My feelings weren’t as secret as I’d meant them to be. When we got back to my rifle, I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, so what gives?” she asked, pulling her mask away to reveal an annoyed and confused expression.

I shrugged her hand off. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Come on. We’ve been around each other long enough for me to know when something’s ticking you off.” She idly stroked her belt of knives. “What is it? Something I did?”

“Are you kidding me?” I snapped, spinning around to face her and pulling my mask off. “Was it something you did?”

“So it was. Okay—”

“You stabbed her seven times, and once while she was already on the floor.”

“So what? She was the target.”

“I don’t care. If she were only a target to you, you would have known that she was dead after the first few stabs. Definitely after the sixth.”

“I was being—”

“Don’t tell me about being thorough.” The anger I had been holding in over the past six months bubbled to the surface. My neck throbbed, and my face went red. I could barely stand to look at her, so I just turned around. “You’re supposed to be acting like a professional, not playing with your targets. Not pin-cushioning them. You always take it too far.”

“Hey, what’s your problem?” Clementine snapped back. I felt a sudden push at my back, causing me to stumble forward. “You’ve never complained about how I do my job before.”

“I kept hoping you’d slow down, get yourself situated, but you never do. I just—”

She raised her hands. “Look, I do my job, and I do it well. What the fuck else do you want from me?”

“I want you to be professional!” I barked.

“Fuck being professional,” Clem scoffed, pushing at me again, now with both hands. As I looked at her, I noticed a strange but familiar look in her eyes—the same hunger and passion that burned before she made a kill. The same one that made me sick to see. Something dangerous and ugly, waiting to break out of her.

A bloodlust.

I saw her thumb the dagger on her belt. “Just shut up and leave it alone,” she muttered.

“Clem, you need—” I started to say, but I stopped short when she slammed the knife into a fallen log right next to her.

“Don’t make me tell you again,” she said, her voice devoid of all emotion.

My instincts had my hand gripping my pistol. “Okay,” I said, my voice quiet and flat. “Relax.”

She stared at me for what felt like too long, but after several seconds, she turned and grabbed the knife, drawing it from the log and placing it back inside her belt. She began walking away, headed towards the shuttle we’d left parked in the clearing near the woods.

I let her put some space between us, and once we were inside the ship, neither of us said a word.

14

I stared at the screen, watching the minutes tick by on the security footage. I’d been playing it at three times the actual speed, but even at that rate, five hours had passed, and I’d barely made a dent in my workload.

Every mission required long hours of preparation, review, and research. At no point had I ever realized just how much of this the job required or just how boring it could be.

I never expected the life of an assassin to be so tedious.

I was on my third coffee and still struggling to stay awake.

It wasn’t my fault that things had changed. I never wanted to push Clementine away. I didn’t regret it, but it really hadn’t been my intention. She had changed over the years, but I always hoped I could get her to change for the better.

She had her demons, but who didn’t? None of that was any excuse for what she’d done on our missions together.

Maybe it was therapeutic for her. Maybe she was just a sadist. I honestly couldn’t say, because the girl I once knew had become someone else.

I had hoped that standing up to her might wake her up to how she was behaving. Maybe it was vain of me, but I thought I could fix her. I was wrong.

After that mission on Epsy, she had demanded she be given solo work from then on. No more cooperative jobs, and when Mulberry had asked me what I thought about it, I agreed, requesting to work from home.

Clem had been sent off on assignment after assignment, barely spending any time at the complex anymore. Sometimes, she didn’t even come back between jobs. Her life had become a cycle of death, and I simply couldn’t be a part of it anymore. Not with how she’d chosen to do it. Not with those hungry eyes, so desperate to inflict pain. It was one thing to kill, one thing to take the lives of murderers, rapists, and terrorists, but it was something else to take joy in it.

I paused the footage, taking a note on my pad of a couple of people entering the building, and then resumed the footage.

I had acquired an identity of my own without Clementine—one focused on intelligence gathering and analysis. It had taken months of additional training, and the pay had dropped significantly, but I was fine with all of that. The only reason I’d chosen this life in the first place was that I didn’t want to leave her, but with her always away, I saw no reason to continue taking contracts.

Now my friend—my sister—had made it abundantly clear she did not want me around anymore, and it hurt to know that. And it hurt that I was the cause of that, by snapping at her on Epsy.

Was it my fault?

I paused the video, rubbing my eyes as I leaned back in my seat. I had done what I thought was right at the time, but I hadn’t done it for her. It hadn’t been out of concern for her, but rather for my own sensibilities. But if I was going to practice my own restraint, maybe being an assassin wasn’t the life for me.

Maybe I had been right in pulling away from the killing part of the life and settling for desk work instead. The pay wasn’t as good, and I was sitting on my ass most of the time instead of traveling the stars like I’d always wanted.

Had I changed that much? Had my dreams changed, or had a fear of what I’d have to do to realize them made me think I didn’t want that anymore?

I looked down at my desk. Mixed in with all the clutter and electronics, my old school pad stuck out. I’d read through the library in it twice over by now, but I still kept it around for reference.

Like many times before, I’d recently picked up Tales of the Earth: Mankind’s Lost Homeworld. Reading it always put a smile on my face and made me remember my childhood, and I’d often get lost, even now, imagining a planet rich with life, monsters, and magical creatures.

There were all sorts of stories about Earth, besides those in this book, and I’d read most of them. A lot of scholars believed that Earth, or a place upon which this mythical planet was based, could have been the place where humans originally evolved. The only problem was that no one had ever found much proof, one way or the other. There were only vague mentions in ancient writings. Never anything concrete. Still, the thought of such a place exhilarated me, and I found my dreams were often better after a quick read from the book. One day, I wanted to leave this place and search for a planet like the one they talked about in these stories—a place rich with green hills and fields, crystal blue waters, and beautiful skies. There didn’t need to be any dragons or flying dogs; just a lovely countryside with kind and welcoming people.

I looked up at the video. I had twelve more hours of footage to check over, but I didn’t have to turn in a full report on it for a couple of days.

My ass and legs hurt from not moving out of my seat for most of the afternoon, so I decided to take a break and stretch my muscles. Maybe get a little exercise in while I was at it. I stood up, grabbing my old pad and taking it with me as I made my way to the gym. I switched to exercise clothes, leaving the pad in my locker.

I started with a nice long run. A lot of the others liked to listen to music or maybe watch something while on a treadmill. For myself, I liked the path around the complex, through the neighboring streets and into the garage entrance.

If taken in its entirety, the route might take someone about fifteen minutes to jog the whole way around, but it gave me a sense of tranquility like I was someplace far away.

I took the path around three times, breathing heavily by the end but feeling good. I’d have to start pushing myself harder to make up for the lack of physical training sessions and fieldwork. All this desk time was making me soft.

I made my way back inside. There were a handful of people in the sparring room, but I had no reason to go there, so I avoided it. I headed for the indoor rock-climbing room instead. I wiped the sweat off my hands with a towel and patted them with the chalk. It was weird. When I was alone and didn’t have anybody watching or judging me, I found myself working better. I’d even broken Pearl’s time on the rock wall, and I’d slowly nudged my way closer to Clementine, who still held the record.

After I finished my climb, I used my remaining time to practice my stances. I might not be in the field, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep my limbs trained and ready.

Finally, I decided to head to the shooting range. Target practice didn’t offer much in the way of exercise, but I enjoyed it for the stress relief.

Five rounds went by in a flash. Each one found the target, tagging the head with exact precision, dead center.

Part of me wondered if I should get back into the field again. After five months at the desk, I was beginning to grow sick of these walls, and I had certainly enjoyed traveling between planets. Epsy, Calipso, Mantei, and Shoro, to name a few. The best part of fieldwork was traveling.

I could ask Mulberry for a job. Maybe something off-world, closer to the core system.

Maybe getting out would be good for me.

I leaned into the scope and fired.

Another five rounds, all within the ten-centimeter circle, making a slightly off-center five-pointed star.

I felt good about my aim. It had actually gotten better since I quit going on missions. More practice time, I supposed. But what good were these skills when I couldn’t even use them? Maybe I really did need to ask for a job. Maybe it was time.

I winced. The thought of doing missions again just didn’t feel as appealing as I wanted it to. Perhaps it was time to find another career. Put the organization behind me and move on to something else. Clementine and I would eventually figure things out, after all. She’d meet me halfway, and then we’d leave together to do something that didn’t involve killing people I’d never met before, or at the very least, doing it for a reason besides money.

Was that what had bothered me about the contracts? That it wasn’t for any particular purpose? Mulberry had made it a point to only take on criminal cases, but because those jobs always came from the target’s rivals or other crime lords, it had created a power vacuum, soon to be filled by the person who hired us. Only very rarely had the job resulted in a drop in crime. Was that what I was missing in my life? Some kind of purpose? A mission to dedicate myself to, like those people in the stories I always read?

Mable had made it out of this life, so why couldn’t I?

Well, I still wasn’t sure if Mable had been a member of the organization or if her relationship with Mulberry had been something else entirely. The old man refused to talk about any of that.

Even so, there had to be jobs that required the skill-set I’d acquired here. Maybe Mulberry could fix me up with something. I didn’t doubt he needed contacts outside of his own people to get information. Maybe I could leave this place and be his eyes somewhere else. At the very least, it might give me the chance to branch out and see the galaxy.

I made my way to the showers and took my time there.

I sighed, letting the warm, steaming water rush through my hair and run over my body, relaxing me. The soothing sound and the calming heat helped my mind go blank, and for a moment at least, I felt at peace. My thoughts drifted to the same place they had so many times before when I needed an escape—sitting with my mother, making cookies. Father had just come home to tell me about his day.

I finished the shower quickly, drying myself off, stopping only to pick up my pad from the locker before heading to the room that Clementine and I had once shared. I plopped down on my bed, taking the pad and activating the V.I.

“Good evening, Miss Abigail,” the text read as the still-unsettling smiling face appeared. “How may I help you today?”

“Got any mental gymnastics for me to run through, Angus?” I asked aloud.

“Of course. Here is a selection of mental exercises. Please choose one whichever one you prefer.” The text disappeared, and a series of challenges and puzzles appeared in its place.

I ran my eyes over them. I’d completed most of these already, but there were a few I’d continued to put off, saving them for later.

“Abby?” came a voice from the doorway.

I looked up from the pad to see a familiar face staring back at me.

“Pearl!” I exclaimed with a smile, pushing myself up into a sitting position on the bed. “I thought you weren’t coming home for a few more days.”

“Back early,” she said cheerily. “Mission successful. Mulberry wanted to see you for dinner tonight. He said he left you a message on your comm but asked me to make sure that you got it. I’d join you, but I really need to sleep. Travel-lag is hitting me pretty hard right now.”

“Oh,” I said, giving a quick nod. “Okay, thanks, Pearl. I’ll be right over.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Let’s catch up,” she told me, then turned and went towards her room on the far end of the hall.

I took a moment to stretch before checking the message. It relayed the same invitation Pearl had just given me, but it told me dinner would be in his quarters. I knew where it was, having taken messages and delivering equipment, but I’d never been inside.

That part of the complex was strictly off limits to anyone who hadn’t been invited, and this was my first invitation. I wondered if this was good or bad. I supposed I would find out soon enough.

I threw on some respectable clothes and made my way through the winding halls to the set of rooms that Mulberry had designated as his own. Once there, I tapped at the door.

A few moments passed, and I was on the verge of knocking again, when I heard a hard click. The door opened, and Mulberry stood on the other side. He’d let his stubble grow into something resembling a beard, and he looked tired.

“Make yourself at home,” he said casually.

I smiled politely, not planning to take him up on that offer. He was barefoot and dressed in comfortable clothes. I felt overdressed in my slacks, dress shirt, and boots.

His quarters certainly intimidated me. I’d read somewhere that to see how a person’s mind worked on the outside, one had only to look at their living space because it gave insight into their mind in ways that nothing else could. Mulberry came off stoic and simple, rarely speaking on deeper subjects or the like. Standing in his room, I was beset by droves of artifacts, physical books on philosophy and history, and a brick stone fireplace with a single chair beside it.

The lighting was dim, giving the whole room a rustic, welcoming feel. It felt very much like the man I’d grown to know over the last few years. Rough on the outside, but wise and sincere beneath the surface.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asked with a welcoming smile. I looked at him, wondering if he was playing some sort of prank or testing me in some way.

If he was, he wasn’t giving anything away. He had a wine glass in his hand, and he filled it with sparkling water before I had a chance to respond.

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

I was only seventeen, but I’d been drunk a few times and knew how to handle my alcohol. Mulberry always cautioned against doing anything in excess, but that hadn’t stopped Clem and me from stealing a bottle of Red Skeez from Galion’s room last year when he was out of the system. We drank the entire thing in a single night and were sick for days afterward.

“How’s the desk life treating you?” he asked.

“Honestly?” I asked, taking the glass from him.

He nodded.

“I’m going a bit stir crazy,” I said, taking a sip.

Mulberry only laughed. “I can understand that. Your first taste of the life was almost constant action. I can see how going the opposite route might feel tedious and take a bit of getting used to.”

I nodded, taking another drink of wine to keep myself from blurting any more of my thoughts. I appreciated Mulberry giving me the job I’d asked for, and I didn’t want him to think I was ungrateful.

“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing at the chairs beside the table. “Dinner will be here in a minute.”

Oh, yeah, dinner, I thought, completely forgetting about it.

Mulberry disappeared behind a door, and I sat down, fidgeting with the armrests as I looked around. What had he called me here for? What did he want from me?

Mulberry returned in a few seconds, carrying two plates. He placed one in front of me and carried the other to his seat.

He nodded at my plate. “Dig in,” he said before taking his own advice.

I glanced down at the plate. The food looked amazing. A thick cut of steak, gleaming in the light like a piece of art. Underneath was an orange mash that smelled of pumpkin, sided with a heap of steamed mushrooms and a pair of asparagus spears wrapped together by strips of Caldaic bacon. Just looking at it made my mouth water.

“Did you make this?” I asked, narrowing my eyes, feeling suspicious again.

He chuckled, taking a moment to swallow what was in his mouth before answering. “I admit I have many talents, but cooking isn’t one of them. This is from a local place. I had someone pick it up.”

I took a bite of the bacon-wrapped asparagus and closed my eyes.

Mulberry grinned. “Good, isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, I attacked the food. I devoured the steak in under a minute, taking a second to wash it down with some water before tearing through the sides like they owed me money. Despite all the many classes I had taken, table etiquette was not one of them—further emphasized as Mulberry calmly cut into his steak when I looked up from my empty plate. I had finished a full minute before he did.

He smiled, finished his food, and cleared our plates, taking a moment to refill my glass before heading back into the kitchen.

I leaned back into my seat, full of the best meal I’d eaten in forever.

Mulberry returned with a pair of plates. The one that he put in front of me had a brownie with a scoop of ice cream on top, and I was hungry all over again.

“How was the steak?” he asked before I could dig in.

I raised my eyes up from the brownie with the ice cream slowly melting on top of it. “Oh, it was fantastic. Best food I’ve had in a while.”

Considering the life I’d lived, it wasn’t saying much, but it was enough to drag a smile to Mulberry’s face.

I cleared the brownie from my plate slower than I had the rest, but I was still faster than Mulberry. I imitated him as he cleaned his mouth with his napkin, placing it on the empty plate and sipping from his glass. I looked down. I’d been pushing a thought down all evening, but as the night was coming to a close, I just couldn’t keep it bottled anymore.

“So,” I started, clearing my throat softly. “Do you know when Clementine is coming back?”

There was a pause, and I knew that whatever Mulberry had to say probably wouldn’t make me very happy. The look in his eyes told me that much, at least.

He sighed and took another, rather long, sip from his wine like he was trying to gather his thoughts. “I got a message from her after she completed her last assignment. Apparently, she’s decided not to return. As she put it, she’s found a new venture that better suits her lifestyle.” He cleared his throat and scratched at his jaw. “She won’t be coming back.”

My face went slack as my hands settled down on the armrests of the chair. I took a deep breath, not knowing what to say.

“I know this isn’t easy for you to hear,” he said quietly.

“This is—” I paused. “This is why you asked me here tonight, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

The move had probably been inevitable. Clem’s ambition had always been to leave this place. I’d just thought she would take me with her. How could she abandon me here? I thought she’d only needed some time to herself, but this—this was permanent. This was forever. How could she leave me behind so easily?

Wasn’t she still my sister?

I felt a sudden pain in my chest.

“Uh” was the only sound to come from my mouth as I looked down, fighting back a growing lump in my throat. I cleared it before my emotions could bubble up to the surface. I wasn’t about to embarrass myself in front of Mulberry. “I guess—” I paused, trying to stay collected. “—it’s for the best, right? I-if that’s what she wants.”

Mulberry nodded, his eyes drifting to his plate. He twirled his glass in his hands but didn’t take a drink. “It came as a surprise to us, but we agreed to let her go. Your sister is an independent young woman, and she’s always done things differently.”

That was putting it lightly.

“She’s capable, and I’m sure that she’ll succeed in any venture she chooses,” he said.

They were empty words, and we both felt it. I knew that Mulberry saw right through me, and he was just trying to soften the blow. “You don’t have to lie about who she is,” I said, narrowing my eyes on the table.

We were quiet for a while, sitting together with bowls of melted ice cream. I was so angry, and it rose in me like a fire, burning in my chest.

But then, to my surprise, Mulberry reached out around the table and placed a hand on my wrist, and suddenly, the heat in me began to fade. My eyes slowly lifted to meet his, and he gave me a simple nod of understanding. The same eyes that had seen through me when I was an orphaned child saw through me now, and they broke me.

Hot, angry tears slipped down my cheeks, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

“Clem has her own path to follow,” he said, even as I struggled to keep my composure. “It won’t be an easy one, but she has made her decision, and we must accept it. You have your own path, Abigail.”

I reached up to wipe my cheeks and felt a sob escape my throat.

I heard his chair scrape across the floor, and another surprise struck me as his arms wrapped around my shoulders. I reached out and held him as more sobs racked my chest.

“It’s my fault she’s gone,” I whispered into his shoulder.

He placed his hand on my back. “It’s not. I promise you, it’s not.”

I nodded, sucking in a shaky breath and clearing the tears from my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

Part of me hated Clem, but the other half loved her, and that piece of me would mourn today for quite some time.

I wanted to ask why things had to be this way, why she had to be so broken and wrong, but I didn’t. I just kept crying into Mulberry’s shirt. The old man had always been there for me. He was the father I’d always wanted, and Pearl, a mother figure. We were the strangest sort of family, but I knew in my heart there was love here. I knew because tonight there had been good food and ice cream, and a tender man who cared enough to hug me and tell me that it wasn’t my fault.

Mulberry smiled at me, picking up my unused napkin and using it to wipe the rest of the tears from my cheeks. “You get some sleep now, kiddo. It’s getting late.”

15

I rubbed my eyes. I’d been staring at this screen for hours now, and there was no end in sight. Sometimes, working as a researcher meant days and days of tedious, boring tasks. The job would get done eventually, and then I could relax.

I glanced over the screen, holding a real-time satellite visual of the city of Ruto. It was night, and I woke up early to get some exercise in before finishing off a report for this particular operation.

It wasn’t like I had anything better to do with my time, but even so, I’d been working this case for a solid month. I wished I could take some time away from it.

Apparently not. Law enforcement vehicles were easy to spot and track. The unmarked ones were a different story. They looked like your average vehicles, only with a few key differences. Spotting them took an accurate eye, but I was pretty good about it. The way they drove, their brand of tires. I could usually spot them if I paid attention.

An alert came in, pulling my attention from the screen. I flipped the visual over to see the call then groaned.

Numbers Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine, otherwise known as Alonso and Bart, the lowest-ranking idiots in the guild.

I reluctantly accepted the call.

“Are we clear?” a man’s voice asked over the encrypted comm. “Control? Are you there? We need an escape route! We have security after us!”

“Hold position, Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine,” I said, clearly irritated. “Pulling up mission data and establishing escape route.”

“Hurry!” said Number Thirty-Nine.

“I don’t see any of them,” Thirty-Eight said. “I think we can go.”

“I said hold position,” I insisted. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

“There’s nobody here,” he said.

I scanned the data from the surveillance program in seconds, surprised by the sheer incompetence before me. “Gods. This is bad. You botched this entire job.”

“It wasn’t our fault!” insisted Number Thirty-Eight. “Will you just get us out of here? That’s your job!”

Bart’s voice grated on me, and I wanted to turn the system off. Instead, I lost my patience. “I’m not the one who tripped every single alarm within a two-kilometer radius by setting off that explosion, am I?” I asked rather curtly.

No answer.

“You two got yourselves into this mess, so if you just follow my instructions, I can get you out of it, but I swear to the gods if you argue with me again, I’ll let you clean it up yourselves. Understand?”

Still no response.

“Well?” I asked.

“Understood,” said Number Thirty-Eight.

I counted the time down, and after fifteen seconds, I keyed the comm again. “Okay, you can move out, but keep your speed at a cool eighty kilometers per hour. Any faster, and you’ll get tagged by the speed cams, and you’ll have cops all over you in a matter of seconds.”

“Copy that, Station. Moving out now.”

The car slid into traffic.

I shook my head. These idiots had no clue what they were doing. “Keep to the north route. I sent an anonymous tip about your vehicle speeding on East Forty-Fifth. That should keep the authorities running over that one stretch of road for a while, so keep your current speed and don’t attract any attention, and you should be in the clear. Do you understand?”

The comm keyed on their side. “Yes, Station,” Thirty-Nine said. “We’re trusting you.”

You probably wouldn’t if you knew who I was, I thought. It was the middle of the night, so the roads were deserted except for downtown. That was where the clubs were, so it was entirely normal to see droves of vehicles and people coming and going at all hours, but the same couldn’t be said of this part of the city. That was why it had struck me as odd when I saw three vehicles careening out of a small side road at two in the morning, each of them identical makes and models.

“Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine, did you kill all the alarms before going into the target’s house?” I asked.

“Yes, of course,” Thirty-Eight said.

“Even the silent alarm that rings the target’s security company instead of the police?”

“The what?” Thirty-Nine asked.

I rolled my eyes, checking through the dossier for this particular mission.

The building’s alarms were mostly wired to call the police in the event of a break-in. Inside the bedroom, though, there was a silent alarm that called the target’s security company instead. A security company that consisted mainly of former Union military, with a high average of dishonorable discharges.

It was the kind of security that shot first and asked questions later. Not something you wanted to deal with on a stealth mission.

“Never mind,” I said, picking up a set of vehicles in pursuit. “Just a heads-up. It looks like you have three hostile vehicles coming at you from the north, currently about ten clicks from your location but closing fast. They didn’t show up on my radar until you broke cover, so it’s safe to assume they have some sort of visual on the whole situation as well. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Roger that, Station. We’ll keep our eyes open.”

I scanned across the area, making sure once more that none of the authorities were patrolling the area. It was both good and bad news that they weren’t. Good news for the two men whose lives I was watching over like the universe’s most under-qualified guardian angel. Bad news, since it allowed these newcomers to do as they pleased without having to worry about the cops.

I zoomed back to the three incoming cars, now only five clicks away. They stopped, forming a sort of blockade across the road. I sighed, finally finding Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine a road that would lead them around it.

“Heads up. I’ve just highlighted a road on your map that should get you around the blockade ahead,” I told them. "Once you turn off North, there aren’t any speed cams, so you have to punch it to beat a police vehicle coming around in that direction. You’ll have to time it.”

“Understood, Station,” Thirty-Eight said.

They reached the intersection and turned off, immediately picking up speed. Watching the police car, they had about thirty seconds to get back to North before they were seen.

It took about ten seconds for the thugs at the blockade to realize they were being circled around by their quarry. They scrambled to get back into their vehicles and resume the chase. Thankfully, this put the enemy behind them instead of ahead. It would make the rest of this a little easier.

I noted a small problem with my plan. While the two idiots still had to maintain the speed limit to avoid being noticed by the cams, the security team didn’t.

“Be advised, Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine, you now have pursuers en route. Maintain your current speed but turn left at the next exit and speed up from there. Understand?”

“Roger that, Station.”

Moments later, the pursuing vehicles divided into two lanes behind them and opened fire.

I softly cursed.

“Station, we’re taking fire here!” exclaimed Bart.

“Still your fault,” I grumbled into the comm. “Take the next right. I’ve already dispatched the drones. They should be there soon.”

“We’ll try to hang on,” said one of them.

I checked the location of the three armed drones currently flying across the city. They wouldn’t be enough to take down the vehicles on their own, but they’d serve as a distraction long enough to give them the slip.

I breathed in deeply as Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine’s vehicle came into view. They were moving dangerously fast. Even from a thousand meters in the air, I could see the sparks from the gunfire hit their doors.

I followed the road behind them with my drone’s scope until I found the leader of the three cars.

“We need some cover now, Station! What’s the fucking hold up?” asked Thirty-Nine.

I chose to ignore them, focusing instead on the drones. They were arriving now, speeding to meet the oncoming vehicles.

I took aim at the frontmost cab, tagging it with the aiming program, followed by the other two. This would send precise targeting information to the drones. All I had to do was give the command to pursue.

I keyed it in, and the drones began their descent.

It only took them a few seconds to reach the vehicles, and when they did, the little bots used their onboard flamethrowers to send a wave of fire at the vehicle.

A second later, the first car swerved, cut right, and then flipped, rolling over and over again, so much that I thought it might not end.

The second car didn’t have time to stop. It swerved right and left the road, surviving a few seconds before it hit a bump and spun around, crushing its side into a light fixture.

The third vehicle had time to dodge both its disabled comrades and continue the pursuit of Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine.

Not for long.

All three drones convened on the last remaining vehicle, immediately unloading what remained of their incendiary liquid in a single, bloody burst. The fire covered the glass, blocking the driver’s view, and while I couldn’t see much from all the light and smoke, the result was about to become very clear.

The vehicle slammed into the wall of a nearby bar, exploding dust and debris into the air and sending people screaming into the street.

In seconds, my team veered off into another road, escaping the busy intersection. On my orders, they quickly filed into an alleyway. “Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine, proceed to the evac point. You know the drill.”

“Thanks, Station! That was some amazing work with the drones.”

I cringed at the compliment but didn’t respond. In case of situations like this, we tried to have multiple exit strategies in place. They weren’t always available, especially off-world, but this job had taken place in our city, so we had everything from drones to additional pick-up locations. Once they were out of their vehicle, I’d kill the cab remotely, and the two of them would hike it to another transport. A different make and a different model.

I turned my attention back to the other cars. No sign of movement from the first, but the second had its door open, and I could see someone on the grass, lying on their stomach.

“Sorry,” I whispered. I didn’t know these people, and honestly, I had no idea whether they deserved any of this, but they’d been protecting a very dangerous man, and that had put them here on my screen.

I touched my comm, changing the channel. “Number One, are you there?”

“I am, Twenty-Nine, what’s the status?” Mulberry asked, his gruff voice sounding ragged.

Over the last year, my ranking in the organization had grown, but that was true of almost everyone. Mulberry believed competition bred success, although I didn’t find myself wanting to outperform anyone. I just did what I was told and tried my best. The added rank had happened on its own.

“Complications have been dealt with,” I said. “Operatives are clear and coming home.”

Mulberry sighed. “I want you and the two operatives reporting to me first thing in the morning.”

“Understood,” I answered.

I ended the connection and looked back into the scope. Thirty-Eight and Thirty-Nine were already on the move, leaving the alley and heading away.

Given tonight’s bungle, I wondered what Mulberry would say to them tomorrow.

Whatever it was, I just hoped I didn’t get wrapped up in their stupidity.

* * *

Mulberry hadn’t been kidding about wanting to see us first thing in the morning. I’d barely gotten four hours of sleep before my comm crackled with the old man calling me to his office. Alonso and Bart were already there, fidgeting in the seats in front of the oak desk.

Tension hung thick in the air. Mulberry looked calm, but I sensed an undercurrent of anger in him, simmering just below the surface. I sat as far in the corner as I could manage, trying to stay away from the impending storm.

“Now that we’re all here, let’s get started,” he said. “Alonso, tell me what happened at the target’s apartment.”

I looked away. The sight of the two of them still made me sick.

Alonso sat up straight in his chair. “The schematics said that the best point of entry was through the back, boss. The building didn’t have a service elevator, but it did have a service staircase that doubled as an emergency exit. We took that and—”

“He wasn’t even home!” Bart blurted out. “The intel was all wrong!”

They both looked at me like it was my fault.

I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Well, ain’t it true?” asked Alonso. “The file you gave us says the target was supposed to be home inside his study. We checked everywhere.”

“I see,” I said, trying to keep my calm. “And exactly what time did you arrive?”

They both looked at each other. “Fifteen after seven,” said Bart.

I let out a sigh as my eyes turned to Mulberry. The old man shook his head at the two boys.

Their eyes widened. “But the report said he’d be home!” exclaimed Alonso.

“No,” I answered. “It said eight. He’d be home after eight. He went out tonight with a woman to a show, but we expected him home between eight and nine.”

The two of them were dumbstruck, probably lost as to how they could so royally screw everything up.

I checked my pad. “But that’s not the worst of it,” I continued. “The alarm wasn’t even triggered by his security team or anyone else in the vicinity. It was automatic.”

“What?” asked Alonso.

I blinked at him, looking bored. “You forgot to disable the system. It was a built-in alarm in his study. You tripped it when you went inside. I typed all of this in your file, including how to disable it.”

Mulberry nodded, leaning farther back in his seat as he turned his attention back to Alonso. “Gods alive,” he said, crossing his arms. “You two idiots really butchered this job. Talk about a fucking pair. You’re both suspended for the next month. Docked pay. I’d strip more of your rank if you weren’t already at the bottom of the list, but since I can’t, I’ll just have to find something else to motivate you.”

“B-but, sir!” Alonso begged.

“Out!” snapped Mulberry, snapping his fingers and pointing towards the door.

The pair got to their feet and quickly ran to the exit like they were escaping. “As for you,” said Mulberry, turning his eyes on me. He paused, letting a slight smirk slide across his cheek. “Nice work.”

I smiled in return and gave a simple nod. “Just doing my job.”

“And a fine job it is,” he replied.

I got to my feet, feeling fairly good about myself, and made my way into the hall.

As I neared the corner, heading to my room, I heard a voice call out from behind me.

“Hey, wait up!” Alonso shouted.

My stomach dropped at the sound of his voice and the heavy footfalls of him jogging to catch up with me. I stopped and briefly closed my eyes, trying to compose myself.

“Abigail, hey,” he said, walking up to me. “I wanna word about what you said in there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Just a word?”

He shrugged. “We’re all on the same team here, but you threw us to the dogs. What’s your problem? What did I do to you?”

“I have a lot of work to do,” I said, not wanting to get into all of this right now. “So maybe another time.”

I turned around, moving to make my exit.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it. It’s not like you could do what we do. I heard about how you choked in the field, so they put you on the desk. Makes sense you’d be jealous, I guess. Hey, are you listening to me?”

I was already walking, knowing that if I stayed a second longer, I might do something I’d regret.

“I’m talking to you, you little idiot!” Alonso barked, and suddenly, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder.

He really shouldn’t have done that.

I spun around, immediately bunching my shoulders and bringing my fists up. I let him fall forward, towards me and launched my knee into his belly.

He wheezed, gasping for the precious air I’d stolen from him. “You fucking bit—”

I cut him off, stepping in close and grabbing his shoulders with both hands, quickly raising him with my side and slamming him to the floor with a firm hip toss.

“I see why you’re Number Thirty-Eight,” I muttered, drawing my sidearm and flicking the safety off with my thumb.

I didn’t always carry my weapon around the complex with me, but I’d been planning to head to the range after the meeting.

Lucky me.

Bart came running from down the hall, but he stopped when he saw his friend on the floor and my barrel aimed at his face. Bart’s eyes widened at the sight of me.

“Back up,” I ordered, and Bart immediately complied, raising his hands and moving away.

“Hey! Okay! Geez!” he stuttered.

“I said back up!” I snapped, and he jumped a few steps away from me. I kept my gun on him until he was several meters into the hall, giving me enough space to get closer to Alonso.

I leaned in and pressed my barrel into his shoulder—the same shoulder that Clem had dug a knife into years ago. “Come near me again, and I’ll kill you both,” I said almost in a whisper. “No one will care. Better yet, no one will know. You’re both already on everyone’s shit-list. Remember that.”

He groaned in response.

I shot a quick look at Bart as he took a step back.

“Oh,” I said just before leaving. “And not that it matters, but I volunteered for the desk.”

I kept my composure for as long as it took for me to go around a corner. After that, I started moving faster, practically running for my room. Our room. The only place I felt truly at peace in the whole world.

Once I reached it, I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I pressed my back into it, sinking down with the gun still in my hand, and closed my eyes.

I wasn’t crying, but that sick, nauseated feeling didn’t lift. I didn’t think it would for a while. It wasn’t for them. They were assholes who were too used to having their own way.

This was something else, and it didn’t take me long to realize that what I had just done—well, it felt good.

A thrill and excitement pulsed through me. Had I missed using this weapon so much that the mere taste sent endorphins through my brain?

Or was it something more, perhaps? Vindication? Retribution?

Justice?

I sighed, leaning back against the door, tapping my head lightly against the hard surface.

“I need a fucking shower,” I whispered to myself.

16

A week had passed since the meeting with Mulberry, Alonso, and Bart, and I found myself back in the field on another case. Mulberry granted my request to leave the compound and the desk, giving me the ability to go outside and perform a little reconnaissance.

There were reports this target spent a few nights a week at a mistress’s residence off-site, so I made a note to find where the woman lived to see if there wasn’t a better shot at him there.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe research and intelligence was my true calling. I liked studying. I liked finding out about the targets. Reading up on the various worlds across Union space wasn’t as good as actually visiting them, but I didn’t have to kill anyone with my own hands, and I also didn’t have to sit behind a desk and stare at a screen.

Instead, I was back in the field, armed with a pad and a camera instead of a rifle, although I still brought one with me for emergencies. This was a challenging job, but I decided I liked it as soon as I started, and I never wanted to go back.

I looked over the complex, seeking out the motion detectors and cameras.

My job right now was to chart a safe path for anyone who needed to infiltrate the area.

Were the patrols infrequent? How many cameras? Did the alarms connect to the city grid? If so, we could hack them. If not, we’d have to get around them. No matter the problem, our people had the resources and knowledge to always get the job done. I made another note about the fence and then moved on.

The security for this building wasn’t available to the public, so it was my job to gather whatever I could and report back.

I found the woman’s address. It was a proper house, which immediately made it a better option. I started looking over the home’s infrastructure. Nothing serious regarding security. It had a simple intruder alarm that alerted the local authorities with a call box located outside the house.

Simple enough to disable.

I leaned back with a scowl. The analyst working this mission should have identified the house as the best option instead of making me run straight for the target’s work building. It would have saved us all some time.

I keyed in the information and sent it back to the analyst. They’d relay the data to the field agent, and that would be the end of it. My job was done.

I got to my feet and took off for the transit terminal. It would take me a few hours to get home, which was why I’d brought my pad with me. Plenty of time to read. This was the best the part.

* * *

“Miss Abigail?” came a voice from the other side of my door.

I opened it, just waking up, and scratched the side of my jaw. Standing there nervously was a smallish boy that looked like he was about fifteen years old, with red hair and freckles. Since I didn’t recognize him, I had to assume he was a trainee and fresh off the street.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

“Miss Pearl said Mr. Pryar needs to speak with you. He’s on your personal line,” said the boy.

I nodded. “Thanks.”

He ran off as I walked to the side table and retrieved my comm from the drawer, placing it in my ear while taking a moment to stretch. I connected to the secure channel.

“Abigail, is that you?” asked Mulberry.

I could already tell something was wrong. His voice and tone were off, almost scratchy.

“Yes, it is. What seems to be the problem?” I instinctively pressed at my earpiece to hear more clearly.

I’d seen Mulberry in a lot of moods. Angry, emotionless, even happy on a few occasions. But I’d never heard him sound jumpy, and it made me nervous.

“Are you alone?” he asked.

I saw the door was still open, so I quickly shut it and walked all the way back to my bed. “I am now. What’s going on?”

“It’s Mable,” he said flatly.

I paused at the sound of her name. “Sister Mable?”

I wasn’t sure what else to say. It had been years since I saw her last, but not a day went by that I didn’t wonder how she was doing.

“That’s the one,” he said. “She’s still at the orphanage, far as I’m aware. I need you to find her and bring her to the complex as fast as you can.”

I frowned. “What’s going on, Mulberry? Is she in danger?”

He sighed. “I just had a conversation with one of my old contacts. There’s—” His voice dropped for a second, and I wondered if I’d lost him, but he simply cleared his throat. “There’s a contract out on her.”

My eyes widened. “W-what?”

“She wasn’t always part of the Church, Abby. She used to work with me, even before I started this place when we were young and stupid. We both slipped up, but she went straight, changed her name, tried to live a better life. That’s the real story to it, but someone’s found out about her.”

I tried to process what I was hearing, but it was too much, too fast. Images of the woman I knew raced through my mind, each of them clashing with the revelation before me—she had been an assassin like me and Mulberry. How could someone so gentle ever be a part of this life?

“Look,” he said, his voice calming a little. “I’m off-planet. I can’t get home until tomorrow at the latest, and this hit is supposed to happen sometime over the next three days. I need you to find Mable and bring her back right away. Can you do that?”

I paused for a second. “Isn’t she prepared for this sort of thing? She must have a way out of there.”

“I have reason to believe her safehouse is exposed. I’m sure she could handle herself in the Church, but there will be a team waiting for her when she arrives at the dead drop. We need to get to her before she leaves the church, or we risk letting her walk right into an ambush.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see. “I follow, sir,” I assured him, already grabbing my shoes.

“Call me when it’s done,” he said, sounding relieved. “Take the fastest shuttle we have.” There was a short pause. “And don’t call the orphanage, whatever you do. The lines are likely being monitored and will only cause us problems. No matter what, we can’t compromise our ability to protect her. That means—”

“I can’t let anyone see who I am,” I finished.

“If they do, you can’t let them walk away,” he replied.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll authorize whatever expenses you make. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going or why. If they ask, have them call me directly. I’ll have my comm with me at all times. Get this shit done, Abby, and do it fast.”

“I understand,” I said, heading for the door.

I broke into a jog on my way to the armory. I picked up a pistol with a suppressor, a few smoke grenades, and my old combat suit. It had been a while since I’d used the uniform, but if there was a team coming for Sister Mable, I wasn’t going to take any chances.

On the way to the shuttle bay, I made a requisition to release one for my use. After a quick authorization from Mulberry, I stepped into the craft and primed the engines. I glanced down at my hip to see the smoke grenade, wondering if I should have brought it but shrugged and decided it couldn’t hurt.

While the turbines spun up, I slipped on my suit and a fresh set of clothes to conceal the armor. Everything was a little more snug than usual, but I didn’t mind it. For whatever reason, the suit felt natural, like I’d somehow missed it.

As the ship lifted off the ground and launched into the air, nervousness washed over my chest, flushing my cheeks. This was the first time I was returning to the orphanage, and the first time I would see Sister Mable—and for some reason, I found that aspect of the mission more frightening than the rest.

* * *

Arriving near the old gate surrounding the orphanage and its many buildings, I was beset by an unexpected sense of nostalgia.

I couldn’t remember when I first arrived here as a child. I’d only been about five years old, but all of my best and worst memories were of this place, and for the most part, the good outweighed the bad. Waiting in line for breakfast. Marching up to the schoolroom with the other kids. Asking annoying questions to Sister Amber and hearing her sigh in frustration as the other kids giggled.

I had fond memories of coming outside to play with Clementine. Hearing her talk about what she’d learned from the sisters, who seemed to speak around us without thinking. I’d rarely understood any of it, but Clem had always had a sharper mind for things like that.

I smiled, circling around the massive cathedral before setting the shuttle down at one of the two landing docks down the street. In that time, a quick scan revealed no snipers’ nests or high cover targets to worry about. Only ground personnel, which I could mostly avoid if I played things the right way.

From the dock, I jogged to the rear entrance behind the church complex. It took longer than I cared for, but it was the safest way to get inside.

As the church came into view, I recalled one instance where I’d tried to scale the bell tower as a girl. I was clumsy back then, and I’d gotten stuck on a window about halfway up. It was the most afraid I’d ever felt in my whole short life. If Clem hadn’t helped me, I wasn’t sure what I would have done.

“If only seven-year-old me could see me now,” I whispered, stepping through the rear gate.

Clem apologized to me later that evening for daring me to do it. I told her that I’d been the one stupid enough to accept the challenge, so I deserved the grounding that the sisters gave me when they eventually got me back down.

A bittersweet memory, that one. It was the first time I’d felt like Clem and I were sisters instead of just friends. We became almost inseparable after that.

I spotted a large, military-grade van along the side street to the orphanage. That made more sense than a shuttle, considering how landing one so close to the building would only draw attention from the police.

The team—whoever they were—had already arrived. I was late to the party.

There was a decent chance that if anyone was inside that thing, they’d already spotted my arrival. I’d lost the element of surprise.

Still, they might not know why I was here or whether I was even a threat. I wasn’t exactly imposing.

I made sure that my holster remained hidden underneath my jacket.

I stepped out of the shuttle, holding my pad and looking down at it like my whole life was crammed into this tiny piece of technology. For all anyone knew, I had a set of adoption papers on this thing and simply couldn’t take my eyes off of them. I completely ignored the armored vehicle as I made for the entrance.

When I was halfway there, a man in a security uniform spotted me and approached. I didn’t recognize the logo, but I already knew it was fake.

“Excuse me, miss?” he asked with guarded concern in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Hm?” I looked up like I didn’t know exactly where the voice was coming from. “Are you talking to me?”

The man stood a few meters from his vehicle, a fake smile on his face as he approached.

There was a bulge in his jacket and belt, indicating a weapon. “Yes,” he said, still walking to me from across the yard. “You shouldn’t be here right now. This area is off limits. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

I tried to look surprised. “Oh, I see,” I said, touching my chest and widening my eyes.

“I’ll walk you back to your vehicle,” he said slyly, and he motioned to where I had parked my shuttle.

My hand stayed close to my open jacket. “I can’t believe this. I came here to ask about adopting. I’m in the market, you know. Well, my husband and I. We’re newlyweds.”

“That’s nice,” he said.

I began to turn away from him, but only enough to slip my hand between my jacket and grab my pistol. With the other, I took out my pad. “Oh, let me show you the little girl I was looking at,” I said, bringing the pad high into the air. His eyes followed it away from me, and I took out the gun and shot him through the head.

He dropped to the grass, face-forward.

I squatted down next to him. His weapon had been silenced, but it was a military-issued .45. He had police-issued body armor, but it still had nothing on my own equipment. Whoever he and his friends were, they probably hadn’t expected to run into someone like me.

I pulled his comm from his ear and put it in mine. Someone else was already talking.

“—finished with that witness yet? Barry? Hey, man, you there?”

A short pause.

“Fuck. Okay, I’m coming outside. You’d better be dead or so help me gods,” said the voice.

I hurried to the rear entrance, holding my pistol up and at the ready as I slipped through the door this man had been watching.

His people would come to check on him soon, which meant I’d have to be fast before things really got out of hand.

If these men had only just arrived, there was a decent chance they’d caught everyone during dinner. That was good because it meant I could reasonably predict where most of the kids would be, unless they’d been moved.

Mable generally had her dinner in her office, although I was pretty certain I wouldn’t find her there.

Still, I decided to check there first, just in case, since it was nearby.

I hurried up a short flight of carpeted stairs, weapon ready and my eyes darting to every available entrance. I knew this place like the back of my hand, so it made things all the more easier. I had the advantage, however slight.

A quick glance in Mable’s office was enough to know she wasn’t there, but I did spot a plate of uneaten food on the desk.

“I found Barry!” sprang a voice in my ear. “Looks like a clean shot. Professional hit.”

“Find the nun and sweep the floor!” barked another.

The nun? Did they mean Mable? Had they still not found her?

“One of the nuns told me where her room is. I’m on my way there!”

Mable’s room was two floors down. I made my way down quickly, my boots moving over the steps without a sound.

I was about to reach her quarters, when the door creaked open, and I huddled with my back to the nearest wall, next to the door.

Since these people had already cleared this area, the guard wouldn’t think to do it again. I just had to wait here long enough to—

I retrieved a small stun baton from my side, waiting for him to step inside the room, aiming at the back of his head.

A quick tap of the trigger sent a shock through his entire body, causing him to double over. I drew a garrote from my jacket sleeve and wrapped it around his neck, leaping onto his back with my full body weight to strangle him. He tried to reach me but couldn’t, and instead stumbled into the nearby walls. I couldn’t see his face, nor did I want to, but I imagined the fear in his eyes as he realized he might not survive this moment.

He dropped to his knees, and I gripped the cord with all the force I could give until, finally, he closed his eyes and fell against the carpet.

I shoved him out of the way, heavy as he was, and pulled the handle down enough to crack the door. Then, using my foot with my back against the adjacent wall, I pushed the door all the way open, staying out of sight.

Nothing.

The room was empty, but another door was open on the other side. I knew that one led to a branching hallway and then on to the main office.

I heard someone clear their throat on the other side. A gruff, deep voice saying something inaudible to himself.

At that moment, the comm in my ear sputtered alive with talk. “Spotted her in the head office! She’s running! I’m on it!”

I cursed. Normally, I’d try to lure the nearby guard into this room, but there wasn’t enough time. I’d have to get through him and make it to Mable before it was too late.

Easing the door open, I spied the armed soldier holding his rifle by the strap around his neck as his hands rested on the barrel. Good. He wasn’t on guard or ready, which meant it would take him time to react.

Time enough to get in close.

I checked my stun baton, but it still wasn’t finished charging. That meant I’d have to use the knife if I wanted to keep things quiet.

Hesitantly, I withdrew my blade. I’d have to be like Clementine. I wasn’t strong enough to strangle him without the baton, after all.

I took a quick, steady breath and exhaled.

Immediately, I bolted from the door and into the hall, moving quickly and staying low, my steps quiet and soft.

The man began to turn when I was halfway to him. By the time his eyes were on me, I’d slid beside him along the smooth wooden floor, and before he could react, I sent the dagger into his crotch where the leg met the pelvis. The armor was thin there, and the blade eased into him without much resistance.

There was also a major artery, making the following moment significantly messier.

He yelped in surprise, dropping partially to the floor, and I leaped from my feet and took him by the arm, raising it high enough to stab him twice in the armpit. From there, he gasped while going for his own knife, but I stuck mine through his hand and stabbed the floor, securing him there.

He attempted to scream, but I already had the cord around his throat, choking him. A moment later, he was on the floor, the same as the last one.

I got up and glanced at his face. He looked innocent, almost like a child. Almost peaceful.

I pulled the dagger free of him then reached higher to his neck and stabbed with my full force, piercing his throat and spilling what remained of his life.

Before he had a chance to hit the floor, I started moving.

I approached the other end of the hall. As I neared the doorway, I slowed my pace and checked my breathing, trying to stay as quiet as possible.

The door was already open.

There were no sounds from inside. Had they already moved on?

I peeked around the corner. Twice the size of Mable’s room, its walls were lined with decorative statues. I always wondered what the point of those were. They only sat there, useless, doing nothing. It took me a moment to realize that most of them were prayer shrines, each representing a different god, and each given an offering. It had been so long since I’d been here that I’d already forgotten about them. Now that I tried to remember, it truly seemed like a lifetime ago.

As I took in more of the room, I saw one of the men was lying face-down on the floor but barely seemed to be moving.

I checked my blind spots before going in but couldn’t see anyone else. I kept my weapon trained on the squirming soldier as I moved closer to him. Maybe he had information I could—

A small barrel pressed into the back of my head, and I froze.

“Drop the gun,” a woman said, and my eyes narrowed. I knew that voice.

I dropped my pistol to the floor before slowly turning around. A familiar set of eyes met mine.

“Sister Mable?” I asked.

“Abigail?” she answered, lowering the gun a few centimeters while still keeping it raised on me. “What are you doing here? Speak quickly.”

She still looked exactly the same, although I was certain I’d grown enough to warrant a pause. She was still beautiful and determined, the same as when I knew her.

I lowered my hands. “Mulberry heard someone was after you, so he sent me to bring you home with us. He said they’ve got eyes on your safehouse.”

She hesitated, and I could see the distrust in her eyes. All those years working in the shadows had made her naturally skeptical, and I understood that.

“Mable,” I said, slowly raising my hands. “It’s me. Really. I’m not here with these men. I’m here for you. To get you out. I swear it.”

She swallowed, twisting her lips as she studied me. “Okay, Abigail,” she finally said, allowing herself to relax a little. “You’ll have to forgive me, dear. It’s instinct at this point.”

I smiled and offered her a hug. She came forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “I’m glad you’re safe, Sister Mable,” I told her.

“That makes two of us,” she said, and I could tell she was smiling. As she pulled away, her eyes were suddenly glassy. “Look at you,” she whispered, stroking my cheek and running her fingers through my hair. “Already so grown up. Feels like yesterday when I left you.”

I bit my bottom lip and forced a smile. “I should have visited, but—”

She shook her head. “You and I both, but let’s focus for now and catch up later.”

“Right,” I agreed. “We need to get you out of here.”

“Help me with that one,” she said, pointing to the unconscious guard.

“Sure,” I said, grabbing the legs while she took the arms. He was heavier than both of us combined, but Mable had some strength in her legs that I didn’t expect.

We brought the guard into the side closet then shut the door behind him. “I know Sister Murphy has the key to this somewhere around here,” she muttered, quickly searching through the desk drawers. “Aha!” she exclaimed, lifting the key to show me.

I answered with a smile.

She locked the door and stuck the key in her pocket.

“Aren’t you worried he’ll scream when he wakes up?” I asked.

She smirked. “Hasn’t Mulberry taught you anything? That boy won’t be conscious for at least a few hours. Chances are his friends will find him before he even realizes where he is.”

“Let’s get out of here, then, and get you to safety,” I said.

She shook her head. “I can’t leave those children. These men are likely to use them as leverage to get to me. If the police show up, they’ll become hostages. They’ve already gathered most of them in the refectory.”

I thought about that for a moment. “If we can lead these men into the yard, I can call in the drones. We’ll mow them down with fire and brimstone before they have a chance to do anything.”

“Drones?” she asked, raising an eye. “Mulberry uses those now, does he?”

“They’re effective,” I said.

“Things really have changed,” she said. “This game just isn’t what it used to be.”

* * *

We reached the yard in less than a minute, the drones already on their way. They’d be here shortly, giving us just enough time to get to the shuttle, call the local authorities, and handle the remaining soldiers.

“Any idea how many there are?” I asked.

Mable glanced at the body in the middle of the yard. “Based on what you’ve told me, I’d say four more,” she said.

“How you can be certain?” I asked.

“I saw them when they arrived from the office window,” she explained.

“And you’re sure you didn’t miss someone?”

She raised her brow at me.

“Right, so four of them,” I said. “That makes it easier.”

The comm in my ear told me the drones were two hundred meters from the church but would remain elevated until the targets showed.

“Get to the shuttle,” I told her, motioning to our ride. “I’ll draw them out.”

She looked like she was about to argue but didn’t. Instead, she nodded and started jogging to the ship. Maybe she knew better than to tell one of Mulberry’s people what to do, or maybe she simply trusted me enough to let me handle it. Either way, that was exactly what I was going to do.

I cracked the door to the church. “Run! Run! Hurry, Sister Mable! Get out through the back! Come on!” I shouted so loud it hurt my throat, but the hollow walls would carry my voice all the way to the dining area. If this didn’t work—

The second comm lit up. “They’re headed outside!” barked one of the soldiers. “Get out there now!”

“I’ll stay with the hostages,” said another.

“Everyone else, after her!” said the first.

Three out of four would have to do for now.

I ran to the side of the building and readied my pistol after a quick magazine check. I glanced down to my waist at the smoke grenade I’d brought. Now might be a good time to use that.

As soon as the door swung open, I tossed the grenade. A large cloud formed, enveloping the men as they arrived. They coughed and shouted, rushing out into the yard to escape the fog. “Over there!” shouted the smallest of the three, pointing to my shuttle.

Now that they were out in the open, I had them exactly where I wanted them.

I brought up my pad, keying in a command to autopilot the shuttle home. The ship ignited thrusters, lifted off the ground, and began to bank away. Mable would probably be pissed about this, but I had my orders, and right now, her life was the priority.

The shuttle took off into the sky and towards the eastern part of the city. It would take a while before it arrived at the garage. “Godsdammit!” yelled one of the soldiers. “Get after that ship!”

I touched my comm. “Now,” I whispered.

As the three men moved toward their vehicle near the church gate, the drones descended from the sky, stopping almost a meter above the van.

The three men stopped when they saw the machines, scrambling for their weapons, but it was too late.

The drones unloaded a cascade of heat and flame on them, causing them to scream and run, fire riding their entire bodies until they finally collapsed into the grass.

Three lifeless bodies were lying in the yard, smoking and charred beyond recognition. “One to go,” I whispered.

I ran inside the building, hurrying to where the last of the soldiers remained. He’d be surrounded by children. Not an easy target, to say the least.

“What’s going on out there?” asked a voice in my ear. I already knew the source. There was only one person left.

I said nothing as I hurried towards the far end of the main hall, taking the first turn and nearing the kitchen. I’d come in through the back, using the counters for coverage.

I could already hear several of the younger children crying. They were scared and confused, an understandable reaction to seeing an armed group of mercenaries invade your home. Gods only knew what they’d said or done to them since their arrival.

“Shut the hell up over there!” shouted the soldier.

A loud yelp followed as the bench slid across the floor.

“Bren!” shouted a girl. “You hurt him! Bren!”

More crying followed, and this time, it was even louder.

“I said shut up, all of you!”

A boiling heat ran through my throat and chest as I imagined one of the kids getting smacked around or pushed to the floor. Without even seeing it, I was already livid.

I eased my way through the door. The hinges creaked enough to make a sound, but the children’s cries drowned it out. The kitchen was empty, no sign of the staff. Since the authorities had yet to arrive, I had to assume the adults were with the kids on the other side of the counter.

If only one of them had gotten out, this scenario would have unfolded quite differently.

“Is anyone gonna answer me? Ralph? Torey? Somebody?!” asked the man, his voice erupting from the dining area as well as inside the comm.

I eased my way closer to the counter. He was pacing back and forth between two long tables, children on either side of him. I could see the top of his head.

I touched the comm and cleared my throat. “Hello,” I said in the lowest voice I could manage.

He stopped moving, then turned towards the other side of the room. “Who the fuck is this?!” he shouted, causing several of the kids to flinch.

Witnessing the children’s fear pushed me into action. I raised myself up to my feet, extending my arm with the weapon it held, and fired.

He took the bullet in his shoulder, knocking him forward to the floor where he scrambled desperately to get away.

I leaped over the countertop, gun still aimed, and the children’s desperate and frightened screams were nearly overwhelming.

But at that moment, all of the noise seemed to drown itself, replaced by an empty song as total focus shrouded me. My eyes were set on the armored man with the rifle as he moved along the tiled floor. He swung his gun in my direction, but I fired twice and struck the hand that threatened to pull the trigger.

He snapped back, screaming in pain as the bullet tore his fingers apart. As our eyes locked, and I saw the fear overtaking him, I shot him in the knee, ensuring that whatever happened next, I could take my fucking time with him.

“S-stop!” he yelled, his dry voice cracking at the words.

I walked beside him, stopping when I had the barrel a meter from his forehead. “Drop the weapon,” I ordered.

With one hand shaking and bleeding, he tried desperately to remove the rifle from his neck. It took him some time to do it, but eventually, he had it off. I kicked it away from both of us and then narrowed my eyes on his.

The sisters and kitchen staff were already leading the children out of the building, and before long, the two of us were alone. Once I knew no one could see, I knelt beside the stranger and stared quietly at his trembling, sweating face. “You should never have come here,” I told him.

“We were only following orders,” he managed to say.

“Me too,” I said, placing the barrel to his forehead. “But I don’t take kids as hostages.”

He swallowed. “You’re gonna kill me, huh? Just like you killed everyone else. Fuck you, then. Hurry up, just do it and get it over with.”

I pressed the barrel deeper into him, biting my lip. I wanted to do it more than anything. He deserved it. We both knew it. No one would blame me.

The comm in my ear clicked to life. “Abigail?” asked a familiar voice. It was Pearl, and the sound of my name caused me to flinch. “Abby, are you there?”

I removed my finger from the trigger, easing the weapon back. “I’m here,” I said.

“I’m outside with a team. Stay where you are. We’ll be right there,” she told me. “Did you take any of them alive? Anyone we can question?”

I looked down at the man before me. There was still a man upstairs, locked in the closet. I could leave him alive and we could question him, find out more about them. I had no reason to keep this one alive, except—

Clementine’s face flashed before my eyes, and I remembered the way she killed that man on our first mission—sliced his throat in his own bed, and then the woman next to him. The bloodlust had grown in her like a cancer. Was I the same? Was I just like my sister?

I paused and slowly took a step back from the trembling man at my feet. His eyes darted between my pistol and my face, confusion all over him.

I sat on the nearby bench, letting the gun dangle between my legs, all the energy in me suddenly gone.

“There’s two,” I muttered, letting out a sigh. “I’ve got two survivors.”

* * *

By the time I made it home, Mulberry was already there waiting for me. He’d arrived on-world less than an hour ago. In that time, the authorities had been dispatched, and our team had long since vanished. Our government contacts would omit whatever details they needed to avoid implicating our group. Such an arrangement would require compensation from Mulberry, but given Mable’s safety, I knew he was more than willing to pay.

Our team had to break into three groups, each taking an alternate, snaking path back home to escape any detection.

I had gone alone, taking a cab to the middle of the city, walking around a shopping plaza, and then using the guild’s anonymous shell account, I used another public transport to travel the rest of the way. I’d asked to be dropped off a quarter kilometer from the front door. I’d made it back slightly after dark.

Mulberry went to me as soon as he saw me, and he gave me the biggest smile I’d ever seen on him.

“How’d it go?” he asked, but we both knew it was only a courtesy. He’d likely already gone over the drone footage, not to mention Mable’s testimony.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You already know how it went.”

He gave me a chuckle. “I want to hear it from you. Mable said you did a fine job, but how did it feel?”

“Feel?” I echoed.

“That was your first time in the field in months,” he said honestly.

“Oh,” I muttered, uncertain of what to say. The truth was, I felt exhausted, and the call of my bed tugged at me. Still, I found I was somehow happy, not only for Mable’s safety and the joy I saw in Mulberry’s eyes but also for the success of my mission. It felt right, every part of it. “Where’s Mable?”

He frowned but only slightly. “She’s gone,” he said, sighing slightly. “She said to tell you thank you, but she had to leave. If I know her, and I’d like to think I do, she’ll find another church, maybe take another name. She knows the game well enough to stay out of trouble, especially after all of this.”

I could hear the sadness in his voice. The knowledge that he might never see her again was ever present in the back of his throat. I knew that feeling because I felt it with Clementine.

I reached out to grip his shoulder, and I hugged the old man with all the strength I had left. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

His arms wrapped around me, and he pulled me into his shoulder. He grunted, and I knew he meant the same.

* * *

A light tap at my door startled me awake.

I’d been reading, and I must have fallen asleep. The book was lying open across my chest, and I didn’t remember putting it down. I was halfway through the second to last story in the Tales of the Earth book, but I couldn’t remember where I’d stopped.

The mission must have worn me out more than I thought.

I checked the page number before putting the book down and standing up. I pressed the button to open the door, surprised to find Pearl standing on the other side. She looked more exhausted than I did.

“Can I come in?” she asked.

“Of course,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “What is it?”

In response, she showed me the bottle and two glasses she carried before coming inside.

She put the two glasses on my bedside table and poured some amber liquid into both. She handed me one and sat down on Clementine’s bed.

“So,” I said, eyeing the liquor in the glass suspiciously. “What’s up?”

She took a sip from her glass. “It’s been a long night. Mulberry’s not in the best mood, so I decided to hang out with you tonight. If you don’t mind, of course.”

I sniffed my glass and made a face. “What is this?”

“Bourbon. But they should have called it ambrosia, drink of the gods.” She raised her glass. “Bottoms up.” She downed what was left.

I took a sip and winced at the taste. My eyes bulged as the burning liquid went down my throat. “Ow. That’s just terrible. How do you drink this?”

She shrugged. “It gets better after five or six glasses.”

I sat down on my bed across from Pearl. “Are you drunk?”

She made a gesture with her hand. “About halfway there. I plan on going all the way tonight, though, if you get my meaning.”

“I don’t.”

She shrugged and filled her glass again. “You will.”

I inspected my glass and took another sip. I didn’t know why I expected it to go down any better, but I was gasping by the time it went down my throat. Pearl laughed and leaned over to refill my glass.

I took another drink of the fiery liquid. “Pearl, what’s Mulberry’s history with Sister Mable?”

Pearl leaned back on the bed, pressing her shoulder into the wall behind her. “They knew each other before they started this place. They founded it together, I suppose you could say.”

I leaned forward. “Together? I thought he built this place after she left him.”

She took another sip. “Oh, yes. They were equal partners in building this place. The fact that they were in love was a separate relationship, or so they liked to claim. The rest of us knew better, though.”

In love? I’d never known about that. From what little I’d gleaned by now, it was clear they’d worked together and had been friends, but to be in love was something else entirely. It redefined everything I knew about them. “I had no idea,” I muttered, trying to imagine them together, making eyes at one another. “Why did she leave?”

Pearl sighed. “I don’t know all the details. In those days, I spent a lot of time away, running jobs and training some of the newer recruits. Mable and Mulberry took care of the business side of things, giving out missions and targets. That’s not to say they didn’t still run jobs from time to time. In fact, that was ultimately the cause of why she left.”

“What do you mean?”

“She killed a little girl,” Pearl said, nonchalant as ever, and then took another sip of her drink. “Not intentionally, mind you, but it happened all the same. She and Mulberry took a contract on a man named Sordin Vae. They waited in his apartment, expecting him to be alone that night. He had joint custody of his daughter, but the intel said he’d be home alone that night. It was wrong, and the bomb they planted ended up taking both the target and his child out in the same awful moment.”

I said nothing.

“Everything changed after that,” Pearl continued. “Mable stopped going on jobs. Mulberry started changing the way he ran the guild. Higher standards all around, no more bombs, only precision hits. He really stepped things up.”

I took another sip from the glass. It still burned all the way down, but like Pearl said, it was getting easier to bear. I was feeling a little woozy, though, so I shook my head when Pearl offered to refill my glass. “Was she Number Two?”

Pearl nodded. “Still is, and she always will be, so long as Mulberry has his way.”

I smiled at that.

“She left a year later,” Pearl told me. “Went to that church and took her vows. It devastated Mulberry. He begged her to come home. The fact is, she was his heart. I saw it in him, just as I saw it in her. That’s why she brought you girls here. Even then, after almost ten years, she only trusted him. She knew he’d protect you like you were his own daughters, because she knew the depths of his love. That’s just the kind of man he is. He cares too much.”

“I had no idea,” I said, my eyes dropping to the floor.

“No, I don’t suppose you would,” she said. “Love is something for adults, and it makes them crazy and sick, all at the same time.”

“I hope I never have it, then,” I said, thinking that it sounded rather painful.

“Don’t say that,” Pearl said, and a slight smile poked through the side of her lips. “As hard as it was for him, I know Mulberry would never trade his time with Mable for anything, whether in this life or the next. She made him the happiest he’s ever been. As his friend, I was glad to see him so incredibly, stupidly in love.” Her eyes rose to meet mine. “And someday, Abigail, I hope to see the same in you too.”

17

The alleyway was dark, and loud music from the nightclub next door vibrated through the walls. It was only a couple of hours from sunrise, but the music didn’t sound like it was going to be ending anytime soon.

I crouched down in between two dumpsters, twisting the silencer on my pistol, waiting for my target.

Jeremy Breen. That was the name of the man I was waiting for. Over the year or so after I’d helped Sister Mable, Mulberry let me switch between intel and normal fieldwork.

Breen wasn’t the kind of guy that our organization usually went after. Our bread and butter were thugs and self-styled kingpins. Breen’s company caught him embezzling money on Crescent, in a neighboring system.

One of the CEOs—someone that apparently had a lot to lose if this came to light—sought us out to deal with him. Quietly.

He had secrets, though. The kind that the company wanted to bury too. The kind that made Mulberry think that this was a job for me. He didn’t tell me as much, but the fact that he presented the job to me personally was revealing.

A few weeks of surveillance had revealed Breen’s fondness for perversion. He visited the same kind of establishments in each city he went to. We didn’t usually dig into targets’ vices, but the fact that each of these places had a common denominator led to a deeper study. What was revealed made me sick. It also told me why Mulberry offered me the job.

When we interrogated the owners of these establishments, each one of them agreed that Breen liked them young. Too godsdamned young. When Mulberry told me about the job, I took it. He hadn’t even offered it to me yet, and I’d taken it. It was mine.

All I had to do was wait. I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples with my free hand. The music inside was starting to get on my nerves.

After another ten minutes, I heard a vehicle come to a stop just outside the alley.

I had brought a drone with me on this mission, and it was currently flying half a kilometer overhead, sending a magnified visual into my mask’s eyepiece.

The man just arriving was an infamous drug dealer, Jack Reeth, also known as The Jack of Knives. He’d made quite the name for himself, here on Crescent, and he’d since become the go-to source for smuggled arms and drugs across half the planet. He wasn’t my target, but he was here to meet with Breen, which opened up the possibility of clearing the streets of two problems at once. Sure, they’d only pay me for one of them, but who was I to turn down a little charity work?

I dragged the slide on my pistol back, slipping a round into the chamber.

“I have the goods you wanted, but this is way off what I usually make, Breen,” Jack said. “It’s going to be double the usual price. Last minute delivery fees, you know.”

I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Fine. I don’t care,” Breen said, slurring his words. “Just tell me that you have enough for a party.”

“Red splits, wild grass, and a few dozen Michaels,” Jack said, pulling something out of a small black case, small enough to fit in his pocket. “Careful you don’t get caught in there. And remember, you say my name to anyone, I’ll kill ya.”

Breen chuckled. “You’re a good friend, Knives.”

“So long as I get my money, sure,” said Jack.

My knees were beginning to strain in this position, so I shifted my weight a little. In doing so, my foot brushed against the gravel. It was quiet, but loud enough for them to notice.

Shit.

Jack paused, and I could see his attention shift to the back of the alley, even from my drone’s camera.

Looks like I have no choice, I thought, clutching my pistol.

I stepped out of hiding and raised my gun. I wasn’t ready to kill Breen yet, but I did want his attention.

“Hey, who the hell?” asked Jack.

I fired twice, hitting him in the chest and stomach. He fell to the ground, dropping the box of drugs into a small pool of rainwater.

Breen raised both his hands. Even from this far away, I could see him shaking.

“Hey, look, man,” Breen said, probably because of the mask I was wearing. “I’ve got money. Lots of it. Just take it and the drugs! Whatever you want!”

I tilted my head at him, keeping the weapon trained on his face. I slowly walked by him, towards the fresh body of his friend and dealer. Kneeling beside him, but still with my gun on my target, I quickly rummaged through Jack’s pockets. I stowed his credits and wallet, making certain to pull out every pocket.

“Yeah, that’s it, buddy,” said Breen. “Just take the money and leave me alone. I barely even know this guy. You can have my cash too!”

“Thanks,” I said, getting back up. “But I’m just taking this to make it look like an amateur did this. Can’t have the police thinking it was a professional, you know.”

“O-oh,” said Breen. “S-sure, right. You got it, man. Just don’t do anything—”

The first shot ripped through his throat, making him stumble back. The second broke one of his ribs. The third splattered brains into the air behind him, all before he had a chance to put together what was happening.

I could have done it in a single shot, but that would have looked too professional. We didn’t have any contacts on this planet, so things had to be done a certain way to avoid an in-depth investigation, even though the target had been a lowlife.

Maybe fortune would favor me even further tonight, and the cops would arrest someone whom Breen owed money to. There were always rivals, always someone angry at someone else.

I found the drugs and the credit chits in his pockets and pulled his pad out. The contract had mentioned this device, so I was obligated to recover it, but a small part of me wanted to toss it. The buyer would probably use this for his own end. More drugs, more deals, and more crimes.

I felt dirty at the notion of bringing it back.

I walked out of the alley and started following the main street. Rows of nightclubs and bars lit up the noisy downtown along the glistening shoreline. It was where playboys like Breen came to party.

It also made for good hunting grounds.

* * *

A lot of people didn’t like space travel. Some even had valid reasons for it, but no one could deny that the view was fantastic. Slip tunnels, nebulae, and an endless sea of stars, but among them all, I had to say that seeing a slip tunnel had become a personal favorite of mine.

I still remembered the first time I’d entered one. The emerald green was so bright that it made me flinch, almost afraid of what I was seeing. I’d only heard about them in books before that, but neither pictures nor beautiful descriptions could replace the reality of their splendor. A sort of milky, flowing green, an infinite number of layers between them, and lightning from a hundred thunderstorms.

I’d heard you never got used to it, and seeing it now, I believed that was true. I couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of this.

I leaned back into my seat, watching the tunnel flow by. My book was on the control panel, but on shorter trips through the tunnels, I found it was more relaxing just to sit back and watch.

A notification appeared on my screen, telling me that we would be dropping out of the tunnel in five minutes. I pulled my feet off the dash and strapped myself in.

Once the countdown reached zero, the straps dug into my chest as the transport vessel created an opening to normal space.

The comm-link pinged, an automatic hail from Ruto Port.

The ship was smaller than most, so the pilot was only a short distance from my seat, allowing me to hear every word of his response. “Port Authority, this is Shuttle AF-475, requesting permission to enter dock, over.”

A pause and crackle of static. “Shuttle AF-475, you are clear for landing,” the artificial intelligence returned. They never used real people for the ports if they could help it. That was only on smaller worlds, colonies, and military bases.

Entering the atmosphere took some time, but we landed without any problems. It took about thirty minutes to get through customs, but all of my papers checked out. According to the system, I was in sales, working for a company that specialized in medical equipment, grooming supplies, and lamps. Even when your corporation was fake, it was important to diversify.

A small shuttle waited for me at the port. I’d been away from the complex for a while, and even though I enjoyed my freedom more than I cared to admit, the urge to sleep in my own bed pulled at me.

“Welcome back, ma’am,” said the driver, a man I recognized as Portillo. He was a year older than me, but I outranked him by twenty. Over the last twelve months, I’d shot up to Number Eleven, all at the insistence of Mulberry. I told him it wasn’t necessary, but after what happened with Mable, he’d been more than insistent.

I adjusted my pad to the local time. It was nearly dinner, and the sun was beginning to set. Thankfully, I’d maintained my sleeping schedule during the trip, so my rhythm wasn’t too far gone. If I could last another five hours, I’d crash and get an early start on things tomorrow morning.

As we pulled into the shuttle bay, I saw Pearl and Mulberry talking to two boys I didn’t recognize. They had to be new.

Their eyes fell on me as the cab door opened, and I could tell something was up.

“Get back to work,” Pearl told the boys, quickly dismissing them.

Mulberry nodded at me when our eyes met, and I stepped out of the vehicle, looking suspiciously at the two. “Didn’t expect to see you down here,” I admitted.

“How was Crescent?” he asked, changing the subject instantly.

My eyes narrowed further. “Lots of beaches. Busy nightlife. Lots of perverts in need of better security. How are things around here?”

Pearl stepped in to answer. “The same as usual. Contracts, surveillance, and brooding assassins.” She rolled her eyes at the last part. “Oh, and you have a visitor.”

I felt a tap on my shoulder, but before I could turn around, two arms embraced me, squeezing the breath out of my lungs. Her smell was all I needed.

“Oh gods,” I whispered. “Clementine?”

“In the flesh!” she answered, pulling back and holding me at arm’s length. “Holy shit, you’ve grown about half a meter since I left.”

A smile broke across my face, and I was overcome with more joy than I knew what to do with. “What are you doing here?” I asked, almost balking. “I don’t know what to—”

She snickered then punched me in the shoulder, grinning. “Thought I’d stop in while I was nearby. You know, see how my sister was doing.” She winked at me.

I pulled her in for another tight hug. It felt like forever since I’d seen her. She’d been gone for over a year, but it felt like a lifetime.

Pearl chuckled, tapping Mulberry’s arm before turning away. “We’ll give the two of you some time to catch up. Come find us if you need anything.”

“I’ll get you the mission brief as soon as I can,” I told them quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mulberry responded, already at the door. “Your sister is here. Take all the time you need.”

I turned back to Clementine. “What should we do? Want to go have a drink? Maybe we can—”

She shook her head. “Actually, I thought we’d hit the gym. It’s been a while since we had a match. I wanna see how we stack up!”

“Of course that’s what you want to do,” I told her, laughing. I took her by the hand and tugged her towards the door. “Come on! Everyone’s eating, so I bet the gym is clear.”

* * *

“So,” I said as we took a break from sparring. “Don’t take this to mean that I’m not happy you’re back—because I am—but what are you doing here?”

Clem shook her head, taking a sip of water. “Well, I’m not back for good, if that’s what you’re wondering. I mean, I appreciate everything Mulberry and Pearl did for me—for us—but I like being my own boss. It comes with a lot of perks.”

I made a face. “Sure, I get it. That does sound like a lot of extra work for the same kind of pay, though.”

“Same pay?” she asked. “I don’t know who you’re talking to about finances, but I do pretty damn well for myself. I’m saving up for a ship right now too. I expect to have that by the end of this year.”

“Whoa!” I exclaimed.

She nodded. “Plus, I pick my own assignments and get to travel anywhere I want. I don’t answer to anyone but myself. I’d say that’s worth the trade-off.”

I shrugged. “Another round?”

She grinned. “You know it.”

We stepped back onto the mat as I put my gloves back on. Gone were the protective paddings from our training with Pearl. We were old enough to know how to pull our punches. This was sparring, not battle. The both of us had enough of that outside this complex.

Clem advanced on me, her hands raised as she swept out a low kick, aiming for my legs. I checked the attack by twisting left, and I kept my left hand up. She always threw a hook after a low kick. When it came, I moved with it, countering with a firm jab. She blocked it, but it forced her a step back.

I tucked my chin and pressed forward, hammering a pair of body shots. She dodged to avoid them, and my right foot lashed out toward her head. Her forearm blocked the kick, but she was forced backward to recover her balance.

“Hey,” she said through her mouthguard. “You’re getting good at this.”

“What can I say?” I raised my hands again. “I’ve been training every day.”

“Cheeky,” she said, moving in closer, but I backed away. One of the things I’d learned from Pearl was that since I was taller, I had more to gain by keeping my distance and using my longer reach to punish a shorter opponent.

“I mean,” I said, keeping my guard up. “One of the advantages of having this complex is that you get to keep practicing during your downtime.”

“Well, lucky for me, I don’t get much downtime between jobs.” She tossed a couple jabs at me, followed by a wild uppercut that I barely avoided.

“You get help in researching jobs too,” I said, throwing a high kick that forced her to keep her distance again. “Plus, backup when things go sideways.”

“I don’t need backup. I never have.” Clem rushed in and tried to tackle me. I jumped to the side, pushing her back.

“Ouch,” I said, only half joking.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, backpedaling. “We worked well together. You know that as well as me. But I work well alone too. I don’t want to say that the organization was holding me back, but—”

“You’re not not saying it.”

“Exactly,” she said, darting in fast with a haymaker. As I ducked under it, I realized too late that it was a feint. I saw her left leg hook around mine. It hit hard, and I dropped down to one knee.

She circled me, and before I could tuck my chin in, she wrapped her arms around my neck in a chokehold. As I fought to untangle myself from it, she groaned, leaning back and dragging me with her until we were both on the floor with her lying under me.

A few seconds later, I tapped at her arm, and she let go. I rolled off her onto the mat, taking in deep breaths as I pushed myself up to my hands and knees.

Clem hadn’t gotten rusty since she’d been gone. Like she said, even if she didn’t get much training, and even if she didn’t have any downtime, she could keep her skills honed while in the field. She didn’t need the practice. She didn’t need the support. She didn’t need backup.

That stung more than it should have.

She offered her hand and helped me up to my feet.

“Only two out of three,” she said with a nod. “You’re better than you were, but your hand-to-hand needs work. Spend more time in the field, and you’ll be throwing me around like a rag doll.”

She wasn’t wrong, although most of my kills came at a distance. Lately, some of that had changed, and I found myself having to adapt to various situations, all of which began with the rescue mission at the church.

I probably needed more time to grow before I could get on Clem’s level.

We ran through a few more rounds on the sparring mat with Clem winning them all. I wasn’t really surprised. Pearl had helped me work harder on my defense, but in the end, I lacked Clem’s aggressiveness, which gave her the edge in any short-distance engagement.

I had learned over the years to stick to my strengths when it mattered in the field, but never to give up training my weaknesses. I liked to think that it was what made me a promising young entry into the organization’s field operatives.

After a quick shower and dinner, we found ourselves back in our old room.

“You remember that time when you got me to sneak under the tables in the mess hall after lunch?” Clem asked, sitting on her old bed, barely containing her laughter. “And I stayed there for three hours?”

I leaned back in my bed, grinning. “Yeah. They were looking for you all around the orphanage. Some of the nuns were wondering if you just ran away.”

“And then I turned up in the dinner line—”

I laughed. “You had a completely straight face, holding your plate out for some food. The sisters were trying to scold you, and you kept telling them that you’d been in our group the whole time.”

Clementine had to stifle a chuckle before continuing. “How did you convince the other girls to go along with that? I can’t remember.”

I shrugged. “I told them it was to get back at Sister Amber for giving us surprise quizzes three times that week,” I explained, surprised at how easily I recalled the details. “Anyway, the rest of the girls said that you were sitting in the back of the class all afternoon. The sisters started blaming Sister Amber for negligence.”

Clem leaned back in her bed, still laughing. “Oh, I’m a bad, bad person.”

After a few moments of silence, I perched myself up on my elbow. “So what kind of ship will you get?”

“I already found a scrapyard that has a couple of good ones I can start with,” she said. “Nothing huge. Doesn’t even have to have any weapons. I just need living quarters and a working NAV system.”

I smiled. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, they’re really expensive, though.”

“How do you plan on getting the money?” I asked.

She paused, almost hesitating. “I’ve got a few ideas. You know me. Just some extra jobs and work I think will pay off.”

I chuckled. “It has to be better than living here, sharing a tiny little bedroom with me.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad here, and honestly, I’d still rather be living with you. I miss having you around.” She shifted her weight on the bed. “You’re my sister. Not having you beside me makes it feel like I’m missing something.”

I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “I know how you feel.”

There was a short silence.

“That’s part of why I’m here, actually,” she finally said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I mean, I still need to have a chat with Mulberry and Pearl about the actual details of it, but I have some really big plans. I just came here because I wanted you to be a part of them, Abby.”

I smiled. “What kind of plans?” I asked, sitting up again. “Are you saying you want me to come with you?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she said, excitement in her voice. “Think about it. The two of us out on our own, with our own ship, cruising the galaxy together and doing jobs. We could be whoever we want. We could build a new life.”

The thought was certainly appealing. I’d missed Clementine so much, ever since she left. The idea that we could take off together, just like we always talked about—it was like a dream come true.

Another moment of silence passed.

Finally, Clem continued. “I think we could be happy, Abby. We could find a real home.”

A warm sense of joy filled me. It was almost nostalgic. I had to admit, I’d spent less time here in this bed in recent months than ever before, always opting for a long-distance mission or a reason to get away. Maybe it was all leading up to this. Maybe I was just waiting for Clementine to come back for me. Was that so bad? Mable had chosen to leave this life and head out into the galaxy to find her own path. Perhaps that was what I needed to do, only with my sister beside me. It certainly felt like the right thing to do.

“Take some time to think about it,” she said, jumping to her feet. “I know it’s a lot, but there’s no rush. We can go over it tomorrow.”

“N-no, wait,” I said, quickly, scurrying to the edge of the bed. “I want to.”

Her eyes lit up at the sound of that. “Seriously?”

“Yeah!” I exclaimed, and my own excitement surprised me. “I really mean it. I think it sounds amazing. It’s intimidating, sure, but I’m ready. I think I’ve been ready for a while now.”

She smiled then ran up to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “You won’t regret it,” she said.

A second later, she pulled away, and she started to leave. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“I need to ask for a room,” she told me.

I looked at the empty bed then quirked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with that one? I mean, it’s right here, and no one else is using it.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s more your room now than ours. I don’t want to cramp you or anything like that.”

“If we’re not staying here for long, why not?” I asked. “It’ll be just like old times.”

She smiled. “Yeah. Just like old times. I’d like that.”

A few hours later, after getting Clem situated for the night, I lay back in my bed with the lights off.

Clem’s breathing slowed, and I knew she’d fallen fast asleep. It was nice to have her back again, and I was surprised by how much I’d missed this. Staying in this room with her, hearing her snores as I drifted to sleep. It was all so surreal, but it felt right. She was my closest friend in all the world, and I loved her more than anything. I hoped we could be like this forever, just like she’d talked about. I hoped our future would be a bright one, full of joy and traveling, seeing things no one else had ever witnessed, living lives we never could have imagined.

We were finally sisters again, and this time, I knew things would be better.

* * *

I felt like I’d just closed my eyes, when my pad buzzed insistently against my thigh. It took me a few minutes to come out of the deep, dreamless sleep I’d been in. By the time that I actually woke up, the buzzing stopped.

I groaned softly. I didn’t want to wake up yet. I still wasn’t fully rested.

Go away, annoying piece of crap, I thought, trying to shift around in my bed, pushing my head deeper into my pillow.

The pad buzzed again, just the one time now, telling me that whoever had been calling had left a message. A few minutes of inner debate over whether I should check it or not ended with a growled curse. Why couldn’t people just let me sleep? I’d just gotten back from a godsdamn mission, after all.

I finally rolled over, pulling the pad out from the pocket of my cargo pants, flicking it on and letting it scan my face. It unlocked, showing a couple of failed comm links from Mulberry’s go-to clean-up guy, Alec, who had an entire team under him, each of them trained by the man himself.

I was pretty certain Alec had been a forensic analyst for the Union at some point but never bothered to ask. He seemed to know more than he let on, but I supposed that was the case for most people in our line of work. Most never told anyone their full story, because too much transparency could get you killed. That was what Pearl had taught Clem and me when we were starting out, and it was a rule we’d since learned to follow.

I sighed, flipping over to the message that Alec had left me. It was in text, not voice.

The text simply read, “CHECK YOUR INBOX!!!!!”

I sighed, popping open my mail application. Sure enough, there were a handful of new files. I was tempted to just leave it for later, but the abundance of exclamation points in the message gave me pause.

Maybe I could just skim these over and go back to sleep. Better than leaving them for later, I supposed.

The doc seemed to be a breakdown of the investigation into the attempt on Sister Mable’s life. The dead guys’ pads had been successfully cracked, their data dumped, and an analysis completed. Their employer appeared to be a man named Elias Hencher, a name I didn’t recognize.

The file said Hencher had a brother who had been killed almost fifteen years ago by our organization. He also had a lot of military contacts, as well as connections with more than a few Renegades in the Deadlands.

He also happened to own a scrapyard on Epsy.

A list in the file laid out all the possible informants based on time of payments made and known associates. Alec was nothing if not thorough in his information digging.

One particular tag caught my eye. There was no name attached. It was for the sale of a ship in decent condition for well below the market price. The buyer appeared to have no name attached but was described as being a young woman with black hair and brown eyes.

Strange but not uncommon. She might be a Renegade or some other kind of smuggler or bounty hunter. There were plenty of people who made their way in the world anonymously, using fake names to avoid attention.

Hell, I was one of them.

I switched back over to the first file, skimming the information quickly before reaching the video feed that caught the previously referenced woman leaving the scrapyard. I played the video. The figure in question was only on camera for about two seconds. Even so, it was enough.

The woman was between 160 and 170 centimeters tall. Lean build and dressed in familiar clothes. Her long black hair had been tied up in a rigid bun behind her head.

I only caught the side of her face, but I still recognized her easily. I knew the build.

“Clementine,” I whispered. “Gods, it can’t be.”

Was this the place she’d found her ship? Of all the people in the galaxy, why had it been this man? The same crook who’d hired that team to kill Sister Mable. This couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

I turned over to the bed beside my own, expecting to see her there, but to my surprise, she was already gone.

18

Clem’s empty bed wasn’t an admission of guilt, but it seemed suspicious after the video I just watched. She might have only gone to the bathroom or to the kitchen for a midnight snack, but I couldn’t shake the nauseous feeling in my stomach.

If her motives for wandering around the complex in the middle of the night were innocent, so be it. When I found her, I would say that I was still adjusting to recently arriving from another system and couldn’t sleep. She’d understand.

The door opened with a soft hiss, and I peeked around the corners. The hallway was empty, lit only by the dim overhead bulbs.

I kept my eyes peeled as I made my way to the bathroom. She wasn’t inside, which troubled me, but I still needed to check the kitchen before I let my fears run rampant. Truth be told, I didn’t know Clem as well as I’d hoped. She’d been gone for over a year now, which was more than enough time for someone to change. I’d assumed she’d grown into a better person since I last saw her, but the opposite was just as likely, wasn’t it? After all, I certainly wasn’t the same, not when I really thought about it.

Despite trying to give my sister the benefit of the doubt, I was moving stealthily through the halls like I did when infiltrating a target’s home.

Several grim scenarios tumbled through my head. Maybe her story about coming to visit me was just to gain access to the complex. We hadn’t spoken since our falling out. Why would she want to reconcile now?

If she wasn’t here to see me, why was she here? Maybe she wanted to kill me, but if that were the case, she would have done it already. Her possible ties to Elias Hencher could mean she was hired after the others botched the job. The timestamps on the feed certainly matched the timeline.

But Mable was the closest thing to a mother we’d ever had—except maybe Pearl—so why would she go after the old nun? Was this really just about getting some money for a ship?

The kitchen was abandoned as well. Panic started building in my chest. I didn’t want to believe Clem came back here to hurt anyone, but as I searched for her, old memories about previous jobs we did together resurfaced. I remembered her brutality, and the sheer joy she took in murder. I had no idea what kind of violence was still inside her now after all our time apart.

Alec certainly seemed to think she was a threat. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have sent me the intel. That case wasn’t something I was actively working on, so he must have known Clem was here today. Which meant he realized the danger and saw fit to warn me. No doubt, Alec sent Mulberry the exact same information, but I had to assume he was still asleep. The only reason I had seen it when I did was because I awoke in the middle of the night.

If Clem infiltrated the complex to learn Mable’s whereabouts, it stood to reason we had an emergency on our hands. I needed to alert Mulberry. Thankfully, his quarters were only a short walk from here.

As I moved faster through the hall, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. I almost missed it, thanks to the dim evening lighting.

Down the adjacent hallway, a leg stuck out of a doorway. As I neared it, my chest contracted as the sight of a dead body took me by total surprise.

I already knew who it was. The dark, wavy hair was a dead giveaway. Alonso had a stab wound through the temple of his head.

That wasn’t all. There were seven additional stab wounds throughout his torso, mostly in his stomach, but a couple in the chest.

I closed my eyes as I stood up again. I couldn’t deny who was responsible for this. Nausea gripped my stomach, a deep quivering in my gut that just wouldn’t let go.

“Gods, Clem,” I whispered, trying to keep my panic from turning into full-blown hysteria. I had to stay focused if I wanted to stop her from hurting anyone else.

In the adjacent room, Bart had four stab wounds in his back. He was probably nearby when Clem attacked Alonso and he ran away, either out of fear or to call for help. She’d caught up to him, taken him down, and finished him off by slashing his throat. These poor fools never stood a chance.

I’d never liked either of them, but seeing them dead was something else. It didn’t make me feel better about what they’d done to us when we were kids. It didn’t bring any satisfaction. It was just empty and wrong, and at this moment, I felt it.

Clem had tracked some of Bart’s blood on the floor, making it easier to follow her path. She’d gone in the direction of Mulberry’s room, the same as me. I thought about using my comm but remembered I’d left it in my dresser drawer, and I wanted to curse myself. I was so stupid.

I also hadn’t brought my gun. Perhaps that was because I knew Clem would never hurt me. She could have done that when I was asleep, but instead, she’d simply left me there alone. Still, I’d let my emotions and confusion get the best of me, and I’d slipped up. It was too late to go back to my room at this point. I’d have to hurry to Mulberry.

A man’s scream erupted from down the corridor.

“Godsdammit,” I snapped, breaking into a sprint.

Everything was quiet now. The only sound was my heart pounding in my ears and my bare feet pattering over the floor. The trail of Bart’s blood had faded, but I wasn’t looking for it anymore. I was looking for another victim.

Whose body would I find?

A crack of light caught my eyes, coming from a distant door. This one wasn’t in the hall but across another room. I knew that was where Galion slept, and I was drawn to go and look.

As I eased the door open, Clem’s old knife-fighting instructor rested on his stomach. He was a smaller man, but he was a killer, born and bred. Clem had sliced a small yet deep cut in his lower back, right around the kidney.

Despite the surprise attack, he’d reacted in time to grab his own knife that he was still clutching in his right hand, and it had blood on it. It wasn’t much, so I wasn’t sure how effective his strike had been, but Clem was nowhere to be found. She likely hadn’t slowed much.

Unlike Alonso and Bart, Galion’s death had been quick. That much was evident. There was no hatred in it, nothing torturous in his execution. It had been precise and immediate. Almost respectful.

I paused before leaving, clenching my jaw as I took the blade out of his lifeless fingers. It felt wrong to take this from him, but I had no other choice.

My eyes ran up the rest of the hallway. A few red drops lay in the center of the corridor. Sloppy work for her, but she had to know that already. Maybe she didn’t care.

The sounds of a struggle from down the hall made me pick up my pace. I was sprinting by the time I skidded to a halt at Mulberry’s door.

I paused. The door was usually closed, but it hung open now with a trail of blood leading through it.

I clenched my jaw and gripped the knife tighter in my hand before stepping in closer. I heard Mulberry’s recognizable growl, but breathless and in pain.

“It’s over, old man,” said Clementine. “Sorry to do it like this, but I need to find that woman.”

Mulberry coughed before answering, “Well, you’d best kill me now, girl, because I’m not telling you shit.”

My body tensed as I rounded the corner and looked into the room. Clementine stood over Mulberry, facing away from the door with a pair of bloody daggers in her hands. Mulberry was on the floor in front of her, propped up on one hand while the other covered a wound in his stomach. Blood seeped through his fingers.

Clementine laughed. “You’d sound a lot more intimidating if you weren’t on the ground bleeding to death.”

Clementine’s eyes held their familiar manic look. Her lips curled up in a sneer, and her nose flared with quickened, frantic breaths.

She looked like a predator about to go in for the kill.

“Clem, stop!” I yelled without meaning to. All my training told me to be quiet, take her by surprise, but this was different.

I wanted to talk in an attempt to stop her, not kill her. Give her a chance to fix it and make it like it was before.

She turned around, her crazed look locking on to me. She was no longer standing over a fresh kill but facing a threat.

“Please stop,” I whispered.

Her eyes shifted from mine to the knife in my hands, and she circled around to Mulberry, placing her blade at his throat.

“Drop it,” she growled, scurrying behind him and holding his neck.

I reached out a hand. “Please—”

“I said, drop it!” She pressed the knife deeper, splitting Mulberry’s skin. A line of blood ran along his neck and into his shirt.

My knife clattered to the floor. Mulberry narrowed his eyes at the knife before relaxing in Clem’s grip.

The sight of him like this shook me more than I expected. He’d always been so strong and full of vigor, never one to submit to anyone. Ever since I’d met him all those years ago, back when Sister Mable dropped us off, I had thought of him as unstoppable. Seeing him so helpless as Clem threatened his life numbed me inside.

“What are you doing here, Abby?” she asked, eerily calmer than before, almost like she was a different person.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Abby,” Mulberry cut in. “Get out of here. Get help. Find Pearl and—”

Clementine cut him off with a hard punch to his head. “Shut up!” she screamed. “Can’t you see that I’m having a conversation with my sister?”

He gritted his teeth. The wound in his belly had bled through his shirt, so much that I could tell it was serious. She’d done that deliberately, no doubt to get information from him, but he’d bleed out if we didn’t do something soon.

I circled around, keeping my distance as I slowly moved towards the fireplace.

Clem looked back at me, immediately relaxed. “What were we talking about?”

“You were explaining just what in the hell is going on,” I said, keeping my voice low and even like I was trying to soothe a wild animal. “I’d really like to understand why you’ve come all the way here to do this, turning over our home—”

“Your home,” she interrupted. “This place was never mine. Not really.”

“—and why you’re killing the man that took us in,” I finished without pausing at her interruption.

“Don’t you get it?” she asked, scoffing. “You said it yourself, remember? You said you wanted to leave with me and get away from this place. We were never meant to live in a place like this, doing whatever this old fool told us.”

“He gave us a home when no one else would. He fed us, taught us how to survive, and loved us. Look at him, Clem. That man you’re killing is the closest thing to a father you or I have ever had, but you’re just going to—”

She shook her head furiously. “No, no, no! Fuck him! He doesn’t care about us! Don’t you remember what happened with Alonso and Bart? This bastard let it happen. They were going to—” She paused, swallowing. “He didn’t kick them out. He didn’t send them away. He just put them on some extra kitchen work and that was it! He’s not a father to anyone, Abby. Fathers don’t betray. They protect!”

“But he has protected us!” I pleaded. “Every step of the way, he’s tried his best to help. You’ve just blinded yourself from it. You’ve—”

She laughed. “Says the girl who hasn’t seen real pain. You don’t know anything, Abigail. I made sure you didn’t have to suffer through anything. Don’t you remember? I looked after you! Me! Not him!” She clenched Mulberry by the hair, staring down at him with wide, terrible eyes, and then she shook her head. “All that matters is our dream, Abby. Don’t you want to leave with me and be free of this? We could get our own ship, and all we’d have to do is kill a few more people.”

“A few more people?” I echoed, taken aback by the absurdity of such a statement. “You’re talking about the only good people we’ve ever known! Mable and Mulberry never did anything to you. You’ve twisted everything in your head so you can blame them both, but the truth is, they were the only people who ever tried to help us. You could have saved your money by staying here with me. You didn’t have to leave. You didn’t have to do what you’re doing right now!”

“Murder is murder!” she yelled. “You think you’re better than me because this old man tells you that you’re going after bad people? We’re all bad people, Abby. Look at us!”

Mulberry was barely conscious. His eyelids were drooping halfway. Any second now, he was going to pass out.

Noticing my concerns, Clementine scoffed and shook her head. “He’s fine. I didn’t hit anything vital.” She yanked his hair, forcing him back awake. “Isn’t that right, you old crook? Hm?”

As Clem’s gaze left me, I moved toward the fireplace’s tool stand right beside me holding a brush, a dustpan, a pick, and a poker.

Clem looked at me again after nudging Mulberry back into a state of semi-consciousness. “Look, I’m sure this isn’t exactly how you imagined our reunion. Neither did I really, but it’s how it has to be. We’re here, so let’s make the best of it. Help me finish this job so we can get our ship and be free of all of this.”

“Killing Mulberry and Mable shouldn’t be part of that plan, Clem. You had your own career going. You could’ve done whatever you wanted.”

She pointed at Mulberry with her knife. “Did you really think this bastard would just let me run around on my own without his supervision? They would have sent someone after me eventually. Possibly even you, thinking that I wouldn’t kill you. I’m just taking action before it gets to that point. If I can score a ship in the process, why should I turn that down?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said sharply. “Mable walked away. He let her go, even though he loved her, even though she could have betrayed him later. He still did it, because Mulberry is a good and decent man. He would have done the same for us.”

She laughed, sounding frantic. “You’re so delusional, Abby. I know what they’re about. Mulberry and Sister Mable were busy in their early days. You think what I do is bad? They did a hell of a lot worse.” She glared down at him. “That’s right. I know all about your sordid little past. I know what you’ve done.”

I sighed, my shoulders sagging. “So this is what you want,” I said quietly.

“Look, Abby, step back and think. Killing Mulberry is just a means to an end for me, but consider what we stand to gain. We’ll have access to all the organization’s assets. All their contacts, money, and even this complex. We can sell it or use the network for ourselves.” She shrugged. “All we have to do is kill everyone here.”

“Put the knives down, Clem,” I said, forcing the resistance out and focusing on what I had to do. “Or I’ll make you.”

“Don’t make jokes, Abby. It doesn’t suit you,” she said, rolling her eyes.

I grabbed the poker in the stand, holding it like a sword. It was still warm from the fire.

Clem chuckled. “You know I love you, Abby, but in what universe do you think you’d ever be able to hurt me?”

I gritted my teeth. “I’ll do whatever it takes to snap you out of this delusion.”

Clem flashed that condescending smile of hers.

“There’s something wrong with you,” I said. “Something that broke a long time ago. It’s not your fault. It’s okay. I was there. I understand it. Put those knives down, and we’ll leave this place for good. I’m giving you the chance, but this is the last time.”

Her smile turned into a sneer. “Go to hell and take that pathetic offer with you.” She glared down at Mulberry, and her hand tensed, indicating she was about to do the thing I feared most.

I moved before I had time to think, springing towards her. She wasn’t going to slit his throat like she had the others. I wouldn’t let her.

I clutched the fire poker in my hand, then threw it towards Clementine like a javelin.

She yelped as it dug into her flesh with enough force to make her let go of the knife. I couldn’t tell if I’d broken any bones, but the impact had been enough to give me the chance I needed to act. She had another dagger, and she wouldn’t be so dramatic about trying to kill Mulberry on the second try, which meant I had to hurry.

I came in close, knowing it would give her the advantage, but reversed my strike at the last second, swinging at her head.

Clem was already dodging. She let Mulberry go, rolling away and jumping to her feet. That murderous gleam was in her eyes again, reflecting the firelight. She rubbed her arm where I’d hit it and held her other blade up.

“It didn’t have to be like this, Abby,” she said.

I swung the poker at her face. She leaned her head back to dodge. I backhanded another strike, hammering the poker into her ribs. This time, I heard and felt a soft crack as at least one rib broke.

She brought her arm down to trap the poker against her body, twisting to pull it out of my hand. I let it go, coming closer and hammering my elbow across her cheekbone.

Her head snapped back, but right away, I could tell I’d made a mistake. Her hand came back around, still holding a knife. I ducked down, bunching my body up, preparing for impact.

It came. I’d managed to avoid her gutting me like Mulberry, but the knife buried itself into my hip. The pain knocked the breath out of me, but it also sent my mind into overdrive.

Galion had managed to get one of Clem’s knives when she’d hit him from behind. He had acted on instinct, obviously, but I needed to disarm her like he did. Somehow.

I dropped my elbow on her arm, loosening her grip on the knife and then twisting my body around. Locked in my body as the knife was, I wrenched it free from her hand and hammered my fist into her broken rib. She winced and grunted in pain, backing away.

I reached around, trying to draw the knife out. It hadn’t worked out so well for Galion, but I needed an advantage. I couldn’t beat Clem in an even fight.

She recovered quickly, and before I could start pulling the knife out, she roared and charged at me. I didn’t move quickly enough, and she tackled me, gripping one of my thighs and lifting as she shoved. I hit the floor hard with a loud thud, gasping for breath as the impact pushed the knife deeper into my side.

Clem punched me hard in the gut. My training kicked in, and my legs caught her midsection, keeping her from mounting me.

The horrible look was in her eyes again, that manic need to kill. She’d drawn blood, and she wanted more. She was even grinning as her fists rained down on my body, knocking the breath out of me. I scrambled backward, trying to ward off her attacks. She grabbed the knife jutting out of me, yanking it painfully.

I screamed as the blade twisted, sending jolts of agony through me. I pushed her away desperately, feeling like I was going to pass out.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she hissed at me, trying to pull the knife out, but I reacted by kicking her in the face. Hard. The blow staggered her to her feet, causing her to stumble backward. I turned around and tried to crawl away.

My hand connected with the hard rubber grip of a knife. I clutched it out of instinct and looked up in surprise. Mulberry’s eyes locked with mine. He’d handed me the knife I’d knocked out of Clem’s hand. His eyes glanced up behind me, and I turned to see Clem rushing forward, bloodlust in her eyes.

Knife in hand, I twisted around as Clem closed in on me.

A kick from her booted foot cracked a rib or two, and I winced in pain. But my hands came down around her legs, and I rolled, pulling her down with the motion. I jabbed my blade at her face but missed, and she wrapped her arms around mine, twisting around.

Godsdammit, not this again.

Her arms locked around my shoulder and elbow, twisting painfully. Her grip was like steel. I couldn’t tell if she’d been holding back in our sparring sessions or if she’d gotten a lot stronger over the year that she’d been gone. Either way, my defenses were fading quickly.

I heard a loud pop, and a bolt of pain shot through my shoulder as she yanked it out of its socket. I roared in agony, gritting my teeth as I dropped the knife from my left hand.

I caught it with my right before it hit the floor.

The look of alarm in Clem’s eyes almost made the dislocated shoulder worth it as I swept the dagger up with my uninjured hand and stabbed it as hard as I could into her thigh. When she wouldn’t let my broken arm go, I twisted the knife into the muscle.

She screamed and let go, dragging the knife out of my hand as she pushed me away again.

“What the fuck?!” a voice screamed from the door.

Clem turned to see who it was as I twisted around to do the same.

Pearl wore a shocked expression as she tried to process the chaotic scene in Mulberry’s quarters. I turned back around toward my sister. If Clem were going to make a move on Pearl, she’d have to go through me first, and I refused to make it easy for her.

Clem didn’t move. The look of bloodlust had faded into something more subdued. She stared at Pearl, the gears turning in her mind as she seemed to come to a sort of decision. Clem was wounded and winded, probably too much to stand a chance at taking down her former teacher.

Pearl went for her pistol, but in doing so, Clem reacted and began moving. My sister dashed toward the nearby window—the only one in the room. She drew a trench knife and used the butt of the weapon to smash through the glass.

She dove through the opening, shielding her face with her arms. Pearl shot off a couple rounds before Clem cleared the window, but I couldn’t see the result.

We were on the second floor, and I ran to the opening to see where she landed. “She’s gone!” I said, finding only an empty alleyway with shards of broken glass on the ground.

I pulled the knife out of my side, groaning softly before dropping it to the floor. Pearl holstered her gun and squatted by Mulberry.

He’d lost so much blood.

Pearl took off her green vest, pressing it into the wound in his stomach with tears in her eyes.

I’d never seen her cry before.

“You okay?” she asked tersely, looking at me from the side of her eyes.

“Yep,” I answered, helping to keep pressure on the stomach wound as she wrapped up the cut on his wrist.

“Won’t do much good,” Mulberry said, coughing hoarsely.

“You’d better not die, you son of a bitch,” Pearl said. “You stay with me, you hear?”

Mulberry ignored her, gripping my arm weakly. His fingers were cold and clammy. I looked into his old, blue eyes, and for the first time, I noticed how wrinkled and tired his face had become.

“I’m so sorry, Abby,” he said, wheezing. “You were never meant to be here. You were—” He coughed again.

I clutched his hand, trying to rub some warmth into his trembling fingers. “Come on. Just stop.”

He smiled. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please.” Another cough. “I picked Clem out for this life. I saw how she was, even back then, and I tried to help her. I tried to cage what was inside of her. It wasn’t her fault. She’d had a rough go of things. But she saw enemies in everyone, including her friends.”

I knew Mulberry was right. Clementine had lived for so long in pain. She’d found a way to channel that into something she could use, but in doing so, lost herself to it. In that time, she had protected me from that same torture, always seeking to save me, but now I’d thrown myself in front of her and rebuked her offer of freedom. She must think I hate her, I thought. She must feel so betrayed.

But the impulses overtook her. The need for violence burned her insides apart. “I see the pain in your eyes, Abigail,” continued Mulberry. “But this is not your fault. It’s mine. I failed her, and I failed you. I’m so sorry, poor girl. I ruined both your lives.”

He coughed again, and blood flecked his lips.

“We need a fucking medic,” Pearl said into her comm for what had to be the third time in as many minutes.

Mulberry gripped my hand again with what little strength he still had. “Leave this place behind. You deserve better than us. You deserve to be happy.”

“Stop,” I whispered, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “Don’t be so dramatic, old man. You heard Miss Pearl. She’ll kill you if you die.”

Pearl swallowed but said nothing.

“If you see Mable again, tell her I love her,” Mulberry continued. “Tell her I’m sorry. I was a fool. I should have left this life behind when she did. I should have—” His voice started to fade. “I should have…taken her away, like she asked. I should have…”

I held Mulberry’s hand as his grip loosened, all the strength of a great man evaporating before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Mulberry? Mulberry!” Pearl turned away from her comm, shaking him for a response.

I couldn’t say anything. I let his hand go and sat back on the floor, my eyes staring ahead, my mind empty and cold. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move.

I could only watch as he slipped away.

19

“Good gods,” the voice said through my comm. “You know what time it is?”

I kept my eyes on the road ahead of me. “Obviously, Pearl hasn’t filled you in on the situation.”

He paused as I merged onto the highway.

“What happened?” Alec asked, his voice going more serious.

“Clementine happened,” I answered simply. “She took out Mulberry and three others, including Galion.”

I could hear him start to say something, but then pause, processing everything. I knew that feeling all too well. “I thought she was just a snitch. I never imagined she’d go this far. I should have called Mulberry’s emergency line when I saw the footage from that salvage yard. I can’t believe how stupid I was. I—”

“Stop it. There’s no time to feel guilty. You want to fix this? Then help me find Clementine,” I said, letting that chilly fire in my stomach dampen the emotion from my voice. “What happened is nobody’s fault but hers. She got away, but she’s hurt. Pretty badly too. I need you to get to work, Alec. Right away.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m already at my screen.”

“Good,” I said. “She stole one of the shuttles on her way out. I’m assuming she turned the tracker off too. Is that right?”

A short pause. “Looks like it.”

“She doesn’t have much of a lead,” I told him. “And she’ll need to stop somewhere soon. Probably won’t leave the planet yet. She needs to patch those wounds. Pearl’s already talked with our contacts at the local precinct, so we’ll know if she’s flagged. Are there any transports headed out soon?”

“I have a few listed for departure later tonight, but nothing for a few hours, at least,” said Alec.

“That gives us time. She likely has her own contacts, maybe someone to fix her up.”

“I’m not seeing anyone admitted into a hospital with knife wounds fitting her description. Where was she stabbed?”

“In the thigh,” I explained. “But I doubt she’ll go there.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it anyway. You never know when we might get lucky.” Alec sounded fully awake now.

“In the meantime, use the registry to track all outbound tickets at both major ports. The facial recognition software should be able to tag her as soon as she tries to leave.”

“I’m already on it,” he told me.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Clem’s face to pop up on the system, pulled by a local security camera in a neighboring area. Not long afterward, Alec pulled a ticket with her face on it, purchased remotely and by someone else. In the image, she’d changed her clothes, cut and dyed her hair, and changed her eye color. Not bad for someone with a knife wound, and it had only been a few hours since I’d seen her last.

I stared at the picture, which had the name Juliana Dyne under it. I’d never heard of that alias before, and I barely recognized Clementine in the image. Her skin looked a few shades darker, her lips a little more lush and red. In the time since we’d gone our separate ways, she’d gotten better at blending in. I had to give her that.

“Who bought this ticket for her?” I asked.

“Looks to be a Jared Vera. He purchased it using his personal holo, but the picture is hers. The system requires it,” he explained.

“When does the shuttle leave?”

“In four hours,” he said. “I have a home address for Vera if you’re interested.”

The address pinged from my comm to the HUD. I was already headed in that direction, based on the last available camera footage from that neighborhood. “What can you tell me about him?”

“He’s former Conference. He was a member of Jodie Crom’s section of the cartel. When Crom died, he disappeared and went into business for himself.”

“I thought he sounded familiar,” I said.

“Yep,” Alec said, sounding distracted as he dug furiously into the man’s life. “Not married. No children and lives in an apartment alone in the lower east side, near the docks. About ten minutes away if you hurry.”

I sighed, leaning back into the seat. “I’m on my way.”

I gripped the controls. It was hard to focus. So many feelings rushed through my mind. If I failed, I’d probably never get a second chance to stop her. She’d go after Mable, and that would be the end of it. She’d kill the woman who’d saved us, and I couldn’t let that happen. My own feelings about Clementine didn’t matter anymore. I would always love her, but I couldn’t let her do this.

I took a deep breath, trying to silence the voices in my head. One thing at a time. I had something to do now. Someone to go after. I wasn’t just flailing helplessly at the universe.

Focus, Abby, I told myself. You have a job to do.

* * *

I took a few minutes to case the building. It didn’t need much more.

I’d grown so used to targets that had extensive security systems. If they didn’t have guards on the ground, they had alarms at every entrance. Fortunately, I’d been trained to deal with all of them.

In this instance, the building had several hidden cameras located along each of the outside walls. They were military-grade, suggesting they likely belonged to Vera. After all, considering the state of the building, it stood to reason the owner probably didn’t care much for upkeep.

Vera had chosen this place because of that, but he also needed to ensure his own safety. That was fine, I supposed, but it wouldn’t keep me from my target.

Alec used his government security codes to break into the network in under five minutes, disabling all cameras around the building. If Vera and Clem were inside, not only would be unaware of my location, but we’d be able to monitor their movements, using their equipment.

The lower east side wasn’t the most welcoming part of the city. The apartments were rented mostly by dock workers who spent the better part of their time on the water, whether that included fishing, packing seafood, or loading the hauls into crates and shipping them out.

Maybe that was why the building was so empty. With everyone out to sea for the season and considering the time of day, there was no one around to get in my way.

I found the apartment quickly, and while the door was locked, I managed to use my pad to emulate the right RFID frequency, unlocking it with little effort. As the door eased open, I held my pistol at the ready and took my time checking the corners. Doorways were kill zones, which meant you had to go in slow and tight.

The single bedroom apartment that greeted me was less than impressive. It wasn’t a terrible place to live, but it had a rotten smell to it. Cigarette smoke had stained the walls and turned the carpet yellow.

I couldn’t imagine Vera was happy here. Maybe that explained his helping Clementine. She probably offered him a decent amount of credits to get her that ticket.

I hugged the wall and moved quietly through the apartment, sweeping every room as I moved. When I finally found Vera, he was face-down in his bed and covered in blood.

She’d killed him and left the body behind.

I cursed, mostly at the time I’d lost coming here. I could’ve gone to the port and waited for her there, but I was hoping to avoid the civilians. “Alec,” I said, touching my comm.

“Let me guess,” he began. “She’s gone.”

“And Vera is dead,” I added.

He sighed, letting it linger in my ear for longer than I cared to hear. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat. “Should I deploy the drones to search the city?”

“Do it,” I said, checking the room before leaving. There was nothing here, and I didn’t have time to run a more thorough search. Not that it would make a difference. I knew where Clem was headed, so all I had to do was get there first.

“Understood,” he responded. “I’ll have a few head to the port too.”

“Anything out of the ordinary,” I told him. “Report it all.”

* * *

As I walked to the building entrance, the sun broke through the window and I paused. I couldn’t just run outside. Gods only knew whether or not Clementine considered me a threat. She killed Vera and might be waiting out there with her rifle trained on me. Then again, she always favored a more personal touch—blades and strangulations. A more personal kill. I wondered, would she be so brutal to her own sister?

A small boy rode his bike down the nearly empty street. We locked eyes, but he kept going, heading into an alleyway—the one directly beside Vera’s building.

“Anything from your angle?” I asked into my comm.

“Nothing yet,” said Alec. “Still looking.”

I let out a short sigh, thumbing the butt of my pistol, getting antsy. I opened my mouth to ask Alec the same question once again, but he cut me off.

“Hold on,” he said, and I could sense he was looking at something. The words lingered on the comm for a few seconds. “Huh.”

“Will you just tell me already?” I asked.

“That boy on the bike,” he said.

“The scooter?” I asked.

“Whatever, yes,” he replied. “He’s doing something.”

“People tend to do that,” I said.

“It looks like he’s taking a duffle bag from behind the dumpster,” Alec said. “He’s also talking, but there’s no one else around. Must be a comm.”

I tilted my head. It wasn’t unusual for a boy his age to have a communicator. “What’s he doing with the bag?”

“It’s over his shoulder, and he’s back on the scooter. Looks like he’s leaving. Want me to follow?” Alec asked.

“Do it,” I said. “It could be nothing. Cartels use kids for this sort of stuff all the time, but it could be—”

“Clementine,” Alec finished.

I ran to the other end of the hall, towards the rear exit. This one led into another alley, which would take me around to where the boy was leaving. I’d have to keep my distance, but the drones could watch his movements from afar.

“I’m moving outside,” I said, easing the back door open. A stench like sour bread and rotten cheese struck me in the face and made me flinch. The boy would be a block away by now, which was far enough to follow safely, thanks to my eyes in the sky.

I pursued him for nearly ten full minutes before Alec told me to stop.

“Wait a second,” he said once I’d gone about six city blocks from the apartment building. “There’s a ground transport. He’s running up to the driver’s side with the bag.”

I hurried around the corner and pulled out my scope, trying to get a clear view.

I quickly withdrew my rifle from my back. I trained my scope on the boy, trying to get a good look at him.

The boy tapped at the window, saying something that I couldn’t hear. From the look on his face, I guessed he was asking for money. The window rolled down, and a gun came out from inside, pointing at the kid’s head. He raised his hands, fear washing over his preteen face.

I watched him hand over the bag.

That was when I saw her.

Clem leaned out the window, her dark hair catching the first few rays of sunlight.

My heart hammered in my chest, and my mouth went dry.

I still wasn’t sure I could kill her. I could see her face now, profiled in my scope. She had that same manic look about her. I always used to think that it was a façade she put on when she needed to intimidate someone. Maybe that was still true, but she wore it so often, I was beginning to think the other side had been the mask and this was the true Clementine.

I gripped the rifle tighter, watching the scope tremble slightly.

Don’t even think about it, I told myself. Just squeeze your finger a little bit more. Kill her. End this. Don’t let it go on.

I closed my eyes, feeling a warm tear run over my cheek.

And I pulled the trigger.

The rifle boomed, jumping hard into my shoulder. I sucked in a breath as I trained my scope down to where I’d shot, spotting a smoking hole in the hood of the cab.

The shot sent the nearby bustling crowd into a wild panic as they fled and scattered.

The engines failed with a loud cough and backfire, and the vehicle stalled on itself, going dead. The kid had ducked down, covering his head and screaming for help. Clem was looking up, scanning the street. Seeing me, she pointed her gun up.

I exploded away from the corner of the building just in time as three rounds clipped the concrete where I’d been standing a second before.

She’d returned fire in a hurry, and while she wasn’t bad with a gun, the distance between us was too great. Meanwhile, I still had a chance at tagging her and ending this.

She exited the vehicle, coming around to catch up with the kid, who had been trying to get to the other side of the car. Before I could reload the chamber, she punched the boy in the gut as he doubled over, and then she brought him around between us, using his body as a shield.

I cursed under my breath but reloaded the chamber and focused on the scope. I could still hit her, even with the boy in the middle.

She ducked behind the child then chaotically and frantically fired in my direction.

Rounds whizzed past me, but I didn’t look up from my scope. She slowly worked herself away from the ruined shuttle, backing up towards one of the nearby office buildings owned and operated by the docking company.

I aimed just a little high and shot again. I wasn’t going to risk hitting the kid just to kill her, but if she panicked, she might make a bad move and start running for the building without her hostage.

She ducked again, looking at where I’d hit and then back at me. I fired another shot, grazing both their heads, purposely too high, but she didn’t react this time. She just inched toward the building, holding the crying child in her hands. When she got close enough, she turned around and shot out the glass doors.

I watched her closely as she disappeared into the building, dragging the kid along with her.

“Fuck,” I growled, pulling away from the scope.

I’d had my chance, and in a moment of weakness, I’d blown it. She had to know that.

I resisted the urge to throw my rifle on the ground in frustration but didn’t take the time to disassemble it either. I set it behind a dumpster and sprinted for the door.

Clementine would kill that boy. I could sense it coming. It wouldn’t matter if I let her go or gave her space, she’d end his life simply because he’d seen her face. Not to mention the people in the building and the street. She’d kill anyone who got in her way, and she’d keep on doing it for the rest of her life. It was all she knew—the only way she could survive.

That was why I couldn’t stop chasing her because she would keep on hurting people for as long as she drew breath. I’d have to kill her. It was the only way.

I reached the stairwell, the child’s screams echoing through the building from several flights above. I started moving, taking two steps at a time, going as fast as my feet would allow.

It wouldn’t be long before the authorities arrived. With all those people outside screaming in confusion, someone was bound to connect what happened. I didn’t have much time.

I rolled my shoulders and pulled my mask on. If this was how she wanted to play it, fine. I’d give her the fight she so desperately craved. I’d end this whole thing once and for all.

For Mulberry and Pearl, but most of all, for me.

* * *

Three flights up from the ground floor, I found the body of a short, pudgy man in a guard’s uniform. Older with a balding head and white hair, he’d fallen in the same way Mulberry had when he died, and a sudden flash ran through my mind of the old man in those final moments.

I let out a bitter sigh, stepping over the body, trying to push the images out of my head. Instead, I clutched the pistol in my hand even tighter, hurting my fingers.

Several floors remained, but the next one had drops of blood right outside the open doorway. Was it Clementine’s? Was she still hurt from the fight in Mulberry’s room? I wondered if, in all the chaos, her wound had torn itself open again. If so, it explained her panicked behavior. She was like a cornered animal, desperate to survive. That also meant she was more dangerous, ready to do anything to get away. I wouldn’t be able to anticipate her actions, because she wasn’t thinking clearly.

The hall ahead of me had dark grey carpet. Light from the distant windows beamed through, giving the area a soft, unsettling ambiance.

I slowed my pace, keeping my gun up as I circled around the corner. My eyes hadn’t adjusted, but I couldn’t stop moving. The longer I waited, the more time Clem had to find an exit.

I couldn’t see a fire escape yet, but there had to be one somewhere.

One of the office doors stood open, and I raised my gun as I approached. This seemed too obvious. Even if she were injured, Clem would know to cover her tracks better than that. I moved closer, coming down to a crouching walk.

The boy was sitting on the floor inside with his hands covering a wound in his stomach. Tears covered his face. Confused and panicked, his lips trembled as he struggled to breathe with a horrified look in his eyes.

“Shit,” I said, sweeping the rest of the room before heading over to him.

“I-it hurts,” he said softly, gritting his teeth. “P-please, h-help me.”

I pressed a gloved finger to his neck, feeling his pulse. It was quick but steady. I might still be able to save him.

I knew why Clem did this. She could have killed him, but she left him here for me to find. She wanted me to save him because it would mean letting her go.

I pulled gauze from my pouch and pressed it into his stomach. “Keep pressure on it. You’re going to make it through this, kid.”

He gasped, trying to smile. “Are you a cop?”

“No,” I said. “Where’s your comm? We need to call the police to come get you.”

“She took my comm,” he said softly.

I pulled my mask up enough for me to reach my own comm, and I pressed it into his ear. “Use mine. Call them.” I unlocked the security on the device to allow the police to track it, which would lead them directly to the boy.

He nodded, placing the comm in his ear.

I wanted to stay with him and help, but I couldn’t let Clementine get away. If I didn’t stop her now, she’d kill more people, and there’d be no end to any of this.

After he made the call to the police and told them his location, I asked him to stay put. “I’ll come back here soon, but if the cops show up, you go with them. Understand?”

“O-okay,” he said, quietly. “But who are you?”

I reflexively opened my mouth to say my number but stopped. “I’m Abigail,” I said honestly. “What’s your name?”

“Arin,” he replied, giving me a gentle smile.

I returned it. “See you soon, Arin.”

I turned and jogged back to the stairs, pulling the door open. Clem could have already escaped, but I had to take the chance that she was still here.

Shuffling steps echoed through the stairs from far away. She was running, and there was desperation in her movements. I peeked over the railing of the stairwell, only to be met by gunshots. They ricocheted off the metal beams and railing.

Gunshots made me jump back. They were from above. I raised my weapon and fired in return when I saw movement. Maybe in her rush to get to the top, she hadn’t realized just how ingenious her plan was until it was too late. She must have doubled back, since she was only five floors above me.

She was too far into the stairwell for my line of fire, but I could hear her running up the steps. Impressive, considering her wound. Then again, this was Clementine. She’d always pushed beyond her limits.

I raced up the stairs, closing the distance between us. She seemed to be heading to the roof, possibly for the fire escape, but I’d catch her before that. At her current pace, she couldn’t outrun me. Not with those wounds.

A couple wild shots hit the stairs beside me, pulling me back closer to the wall.

Below us, doors opened and boots shuffled. The police were here, no doubt, which gave me little time to finish this job.

The door next to me said twelve. They’d have to climb all the way to us, but if I just kept moving, I could stay ahead of them.

Even so, we didn’t have much time left. I supposed Clem getting locked up was better than her continuing. It would certainly be better than having to kill her myself.

Then again, I’d be arrested as well, and knowing Clem, she’d take her own life before she let anyone take her to prison. The last thing she’d accept was living out the rest of her days in a mining colony on some other world.

Clem must have heard the police, because she stopped shooting at me, opting to run instead. We had another ten or so floors to go before we reached the top. I followed her lead, giving the climb everything I had.

To her credit, Clem managed to keep pace with me all the way up, staying about two floors above me before she opened the door to the roof. I made my way there, gasping for air as I finally neared it. Sweat soaked into my suit as I paused in front of the door.

The stairs ended. This was as far as we could go.

I gripped my gun tighter, trying to ignore the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. I gulped down another lungful of air before pulling the door open.

It was a maintenance area with a water pump straight ahead of me along with the pulley system for the elevators. There weren’t any lights on, and I could hear machinery working. It was warm and dark, and the air had the taste of rust in it.

Was Clem still running? She had to be as tired as I was, if not more.

Gunfire echoed in the darkness, and I ducked, raising my pistol. My breathing and heartbeat had been so loud before this, but now they were gone, replaced by the moment.

There was only one way through the room, and that was forward. I tried to stay quiet, moving slowly towards the other side.

A trickle of sweat ran down the small of my back. It felt like someone was watching me, waiting for my guard to drop before slashing my throat open and ending it all in a sudden, brief exchange.

I pictured Clem’s manic eyes. I imagined her standing over me, bloody knife in hand as I choked on a river of blood. She would lean down and stroke my hair, and that terrifying smile would be the last thing I saw.

I shook my head, pushing that cold feeling of dread from my stomach. I needed to finish this. One way or another, it would end today.

Before I made it halfway through the room, something hit me hard in the side. Clem grabbed my hand holding my weapon. I fired, but the bullet soared off into the darkness, far away from us. She jabbed me in my ribs. My suit absorbed some of the force, but she knew the design well enough to get most of the pressure through.

I gasped, spit bursting from my mouth.

She twisted around, striking me in the jaw and throwing my head back. White pinholes of light filled my vision as she pushed me back into a wall. The impact drew a pained grunt from me as I felt my suit tense.

She shoved her forearm against my throat, leaning her full weight into it. I coughed hoarsely, trying to breathe. Tears welled in my eyes, and I reached out, fingers pressing into her face, searching for her eyes. As my fingers found her lashes, she pulled away, lessening the pressure to my neck.

As she did, I took the opportunity to lunge at her, trying to jab her in the throat. She leaned back to dodge the strike, and I brought my leg up to her stomach.

Making contact, she yelped an awful cry while still holding my wrist. Still keeping my gun away from her, I started pushing back. We both fell to the floor, clumsily rolling on one another, and she finally let my weapon go. She sprang to her feet, kicking at my hand, but I moved in time to fire.

She reacted instantly, dodging clear of my aim. I pulled the trigger again. My eyes were teary, and I was coughing hard. I wiped my sleeve across my forehead and blinked, trying to see where she’d gone.

Even so, I kept pulling the trigger until the gun clicked empty. By the time my vision cleared, Clem was gone, and I was still prone on the floor.

I coughed again, lifting my mask to spit the accumulated phlegm from my throat. I ejected the empty magazine and put my last one in.

Like Pearl said—if you needed more than three mags, you were doing it wrong.

I chambered a round, rolling my neck as I pushed myself back to my feet. Everything hurt. It was hard to breathe, and it felt like something might be broken.

I bit my lip and swallowed a dry throat.

“Of course, there’s a ladder,” I muttered as I reached the far side of the room, looking up to where the sunlight pierced the dark through the cracks of the hatch in the ceiling. I started climbing. Each rung led to a new part of my body screaming in pain, but I ignored it.

I pushed the door open, pausing for a few moments before raising my knife to use as a mirror, angling it to see what was around. When I was satisfied, I stepped outside. A gust of wind caught my dry eyes, and I instinctively took a deep breath of the fresh air through my mask.

I tapped my ear, hoping to call in a few drones to check the ceiling, but it was gone. I’d given it to the kid. Gods, this just wasn’t my day.

A foot kicked me in the side of the face, knocking my mask off. A knife dug into my shoulder. It was a shallow cut, but the pain made me cry out. I squirmed out of the hatch, rolling away and grasping the hilt of the knife.

I managed to twist around. My side ached so badly that I felt sick as I twisted the gun toward Clem’s head and pulled the trigger. I missed, wavering on my feet as my shoulder burned with the pain of the fresh wound.

I pulled the trigger again, trying to point the barrel back at her. She came in close and gripped the gun, holding it above our heads, trying to wrestle it free from me, but I wouldn’t give it up. I couldn’t.

My free hand jabbed into her injured ribs, and I tried to gain control. I shot, again and again, hoping to throw her off balance, but she refused to flinch.

That was when the gun clicked empty for the third time.

“Looks like you’re all out, Abby!” she snapped, a wicked grin etched across her face.

I pressed my knee into her gut and shoved her away. She staggered, clutching her bleeding side, and I rolled to my feet. She did the same, and we stared at each other, taking a second to recover.

Finally, I reached for the only weapon still remaining, which was the combat knife on my hip.

Clem pulled two more daggers from her belt, spinning them neatly. “You’re just so determined. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“You killed Mulberry,” I said, lifting my hands and readying the knife.

Clem laughed. “We both know I’m better at this part. You’ve lost your only advantage.”

I shrugged. “Prove it.”

She nodded, also raising her hands up in a fighting stance.

We stared at one another for a long moment, the air thick and cold as I tried to steady my breathing. Our eyes locked, and I knew there was no going back.

She lunged at me, and then again. When her hand came close, I tried to sweep her wrist with mine. She pulled back, avoiding it.

Her knives arced through the air. All of Galion’s training was on display, and it was all I could do to block and evade the first flurry of attacks. I slipped past her and stabbed at her arm, slicing into her flesh. She didn’t scream but only stepped away as blood seeped through her sleeve and onto her hand.

I felt a sting on my arm where she’d cut me. I hadn’t noticed it in the heat of the moment, but it was there.

I stepped forward, and she reacted by swinging her knife, only to pull back and sweep her other hand toward me. The blood from her wound spattered across my eyes, blinding me. I staggered away from her, swiping my knife frantically as I tried to wipe it off.

I couldn’t see the next attack, but I certainly felt it. Her dagger plunged into the thin layer between my left breast and shoulder. I shoved her away from me, but she’d already split the armor. Thankfully, it had only nicked my skin.

She grunted furiously, and I responded by coming in close to her and wrapping my arms around her chest. She dug her knife into my shoulderblade, but the armor was thick enough to keep it from piercing my skin, though I still felt the pain and pressure.

Before she had a chance to try again, I pulled my head away from her, looked her in the eye, and brought my forehead down into her nose. There was a tremendous crack as my skull collided with the cartilage of her nose. Her head snapped back with blood flowing over her lips as she staggered back a few steps.

I gripped my knife tighter, watching as she wavered from the blow.

Blood dripped down my fingers, and I swayed, trying to raise my hands again.

She raised her blade and swung. I moved to avoid it, leaned down, and aimed a punch for her wounded thigh. Her knife arced down, looking for my neck.

I froze, stopping my attack and withdrawing slightly, letting her blade pass by a few centimeters.

I grabbed her wrist, dragging her around with every ounce of strength still in me.

She stumbled, losing control of her momentum.

I slipped my fingers beneath hers and pried the knife out of her grip, plunging the blade into her abdomen. She let out a shriek of pain like nothing I’d ever heard.

The fight had taken us right to the ledge. She turned, her heel catching the raised stonework, and she lost her balance.

I caught her by the collar. A look of shock covered her pretty features.

I dragged her back from the brink, and as she fell into my arms, the butt of the knife in her belly sinking further in as it pressed against me.

I felt, rather than saw, all this in Clem. She wrapped her arms around me out of instinct from the fear of falling. Then she stiffened, gripping me tighter until she suddenly went limp, dropping to the ground.

I held her close, gently lowering her to the damp stone.

She raised a weak hand, trying one last time to swipe at my throat with her fingers, but she couldn’t even lift it halfway to me.

“Abby,” she said, her voice shaking.

“I know,” I whispered, sitting next to her, leaving the knife buried in her stomach.

“I can’t believe you—” She swallowed, and I could see blood inside her mouth. “—killed me. I can’t believe you killed me.”

Tears filled my eyes. They were thick and ready like they’d been waiting to burst out of me all day. Maybe they had.

“All I—” She swallowed. “All I wanted—you were all I wanted, Abby. I just—”

“But you had me,” I whispered, stroking her dark hair. “Don’t you remember? I was right there beside you.”

“N-no,” she muttered, her eyes distant and cold, flicking between invisible, distant things. “You turned on me. I tried to protect you—always tried to protect you—but you were the same as everyone else. Neither of us had a choice with our lives. The orphanage, and then Mulberry. They put us in cages and called it kindness. I—

“We were—we were slaves. You—You didn’t see it, but—but I saw it. I knew.”

“It’s okay now, Clem,” I whispered, the strain in my throat growing too tight, even as I said the words. “Just let go of those things. They don’t matter anymore.”

A tear ran from her eye and down her cheek. Her fingers tensed and relaxed, and I could see a lifetime of pain and fear on her. She’d kept it inside for so long, always pretending to be strong. Always putting on a show. But here in this moment, I saw the same girl from my childhood, the same innocent child I’d called my sister.

She let out a final sigh, her tired eyes finally relaxing into a quiet, still expression.

“I’m so sorry,” I said as the grief overtook me, and all at once, I felt the weight of my whole life bury me. I wanted to die with her. I wanted to be free.

I was alone now, trapped in this world without her, and all at once, I was afraid.

20

A professional killer could never assume that their target was going to be an easy mark. Every mission had an innumerable number of variables that could never be fully accounted for. Sure, plans were put in place and precautions were taken, but once the proverbial shit hit the proverbial fan, the best professionals were the ones who knew how to improvise.

I slipped into the crowd, my eyes on the target. I wasn’t wearing my armor. As inconspicuous as it was, it would be noticed in a crowd like this. With so many people together, one of them was bound to bump into me and feel the armor react to them.

In this case, anonymity was the best defense.

Besides, it wasn’t like I was expecting a fight. If all went well, I’d be in and out before anybody noticed I was there.

I slipped through the crowd, gently pushing forward faster than the others around me. I wasn’t in a rush. I needed to advance through the crush of people while remaining part of it. Step by step, I kept my eyes down but always tracking my target, moving closer and closer, inching forward until I was less than ten meters away.

Five meters.

Two meters. I was still behind. She couldn’t have noticed me. I reached my hand out.

An iron grip on my wrist stopped me dead in my tracks.

“Did you really think you could sneak up on me, Abby?” Mable asked, turning around.

“I’ve got to stay sharp,” I answered, smiling broadly and wrapping my arms around her.

We moved out of the flow of people, who were already looking at us in annoyance, and stepped into a nearby cafe. We found a table. I asked for a coffee and a plate of breakfast, and Mable did the same.

“You look good,” Mable said, her eyes very serious. “I heard what happened with Clementine. I’m sorry.”

I nodded but said nothing.

I absently ran my fingers over the wound in my shoulder. It had healed, but the memory was still fresh.

“How’re you holding up?” she asked.

“Well, the doc gave me some meds, patched me up, and sent me on my way after a few weeks. I used the time to track you down. Alec helped with that.”

She nodded, and the server returned with our orders. A few moments of silence passed.

“Why are you here, Abby?” she finally asked.

I swallowed a piece of meat then washed it down with some milk. “Mulberry asked me to give you a message when he died.”

“Did he?” she asked.

“He said—” I paused, surprised at the sudden lump in my throat. “He said to tell you he was sorry. He wanted you to know he loved you more than anything, and he should’ve gone with you all those years ago. That was it, I think.”

She stared at the table for a few seconds, a familiar, tender smile taking shape across her face. It was the same one I’d seen all those years ago, back in the orphanage. The same simple joy she’d shown to everyone who would see, and then again when she’d brought us to Mulberry. “Did he?” she asked, nostalgia in her voice. “That much, I do believe.”

We ate together for a few minutes before either of us spoke again. We had known each other for so long but had been separated for most of it. Still, we shared so much with one another, between our professions and the people we knew. Mulberry, Clementine, Pearl, and all the others in the guild and the Church. I loved this woman, and I knew that she felt the same about me.

“I never wanted that life for you, you know?” asked Mable. “You needed to leave the orphanage, and his was the first name that came to mind. You were only supposed to work there until he found you a better place. One thing led to another and—”

“I know,” I said, feeling my voice cracking as I stared into the coffee cup. “He saw something dark in Clem. I was just there for the ride. If I’d never joined her, I never would’ve been there at the end. Maybe things would have been—”

“Don’t do that, Abby,” she said, placing her hand on my arm again. “What happened that night was Clem’s fault and nobody else’s. She broke a long time ago. Maybe Mackavoy did it to her. Maybe it happened before we ever knew her. Only the gods know for certain, and I suspect they’ll never tell.”

“That’s what Pearl kept telling me,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Someday, maybe I’ll believe it.”

Mable smiled and leaned over to stroke my hair. “So where are you going now?”

“Mulberry’s last wish was for me to leave this whole life behind. Honestly, I’d been toying with the idea myself. After everything, I don’t think I can just go back to it. Too many memories.” I let out a sigh. “Maybe I’ll travel around, find something that I love, and do that. The universe is a big place, right? There has to be something out there for me.”

Mable chuckled. “I’m glad you’re leaving that place behind you. Finding something that you love is always more fulfilling.”

I tilted my head. “Is that why you became a nun?”

She shrugged. “There were other elements to my choice at the time. Penance mostly, but over the years, I found myself caring for the children more than worrying about paying for my past sins. I didn’t know it, but finding you and the other girls were the greatest joy in my life.” She blinked, her eyes suddenly distant. “That, and being with that man.”

We finished our meal then stood from the table, and I wrapped my arms around her, holding on to the moment for as long as she’d let me.

“I’m going to miss you,” I whispered, leaning back to look at her. “Where are you going from here?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t know,” Mable said softly. “I’m going to disappear. Even with Clementine gone, there are plenty of people in this universe that want me dead. I can’t afford to stay in one place for very long.”

I nodded, but it still broke my heart.

“In that case, I hope to run into you sometime in the future, Sister Mable,” I said.

“Me too, dear.” She stroked my cheek. “Goodbye for now.”

She turned around and walked out of the café. I considered leaving too, but brushed a tear from my cheek and took a seat instead.

I sipped at my coffee. “You didn’t have to sit all the way over there, you know.”

Pearl looked over from the table in front of me. “I didn’t want to ruin the moment.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m pretty sure she knew you were there anyway.”

“Probably.” She stood up from her table and joined me at mine.

“So,” I began.

“So,” she said.

“Babysitting me?” I asked.

“More or less,” she said, tilting her head. “You left without saying a word to anyone. I had to find out where you were by interrogating Alec.”

“Poor guy,” I said.

“Trust me, he’s fine,” she assured me. “I mostly just wanted to let you know we’re dissolving the guild.”

“Oh?” I asked, only partially surprised by the idea. With Mulberry dead, it certainly made sense. He was the backbone of that entire operation.

Pearl shrugged. “I’m retiring. Without Mulberry around, it’ll be too hard to start it up again. I’ve saved up enough for me to find a nice quiet place in the Deadlands, far from anyone who might have a problem with someone in my line of work. Maybe take up some ridiculous hobby that old women do. Knitting. Gambling. Maybe I’ll buy a ship and fly to the edge of the galaxy. Hell, who am I kidding? I’ll probably wind up as a Renegade info broker. We both know I can’t help myself.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I’ll just take up fly fishing.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You should get a cat. You don’t know the first thing about fly fishing.”

“I could learn,” Pearl said rather insistently. “How hard can it be?”

We both laughed.

“Well, I guess this is it, then,” I said, after a bit of silence. “For both of us.”

“I guess so, kid,” she agreed, taking a sip of Mable’s coffee. “You told the nun you were planning on leaving. Is that right?”

I nodded.

“Getting away from everything is good,” she told me.

“Helps you figure out your priorities. Wait, how much do you have saved up?”

I made a face. “Enough for at least a couple years of frugal spending. And when that runs out, I’m not exactly helpless. Worst case scenario, I can always become a nun like Mable did.”

Pearl shook her head. “Are you kidding me?” she asked, almost disgusted. “Figures. You’ve always been soft like that.”

“Look who’s talking,” I said, narrowing my eyes.

“I never asked to take care of a couple of kids,” she said with a scoff.

“No, but you did a fine job anyway.” I smiled at her.

Pearl beamed, not hiding her satisfaction. She leaned over, placing a small pad on the table in front of me. On the screen, I spotted my picture on a passport file, along with a ticket for a shuttle that would be leaving the planet in a couple of hours.

I picked it up, examining my new identity.

My eyes fell on the name: Abigail Pryar.

I smiled.

“I’m still a little surprised you picked that name,” Pearl said, leaning back into her seat. “What? Are you surprised Alec gave it up? You should have known I’d find out.”

“The name felt right,” I said, ignoring the question about Alec.

Pearl chuckled. “I don’t think Mulberry ever had any kids. None that he ever told me about, which doesn’t actually say much. But I think he’d be happy to know that you’re the one that’s going to be carrying his name forward. A part of his legacy. One of the best parts.”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, trying to roll my eyes as the smile remained on my face. “I don’t want to start crying here.”

“Then you might want to—” Pearl made a brushing motion on her cheek. I rushed my hand over my face. A tear had fallen without me even noticing. I cursed softly, pushing it away.

“It’s fine, kid,” Pearl said. “Sometimes it takes a long time to let it all out, and even then, maybe it doesn’t really leave. That’s the way it goes with loss, and now you know.”

I placed the pad in my satchel and stood up. Pearl followed my lead, and we both went out into the street. As soon as the doors closed, I pulled her to me and hugged her close, the same way I had with Mable.

“Drop me a line when you’re set up,” I told her. “We can go fly fishing together.”

“I’m rethinking that actually,” Pearl said. “Sounds super boring. Probably just going to get a cabin in the woods. Hunt my dinner. Grow a beard. Start complaining about politicians. You know, that’s the real life.”

“Well,” I said, pulling away with a laugh. “Whatever you end up doing, you just let me know. We can complain together.”

Pearl grinned and leaned close to place a kiss on my cheek. “Will do, kid. In the meantime, you have yourself a good life. Make it better than the last one. Find your purpose, the way you always meant to.”

“Thanks, Miss Pearl. You too,” I said.

She smiled. “See you in the world, kid.”

Epilogue

A soft, feminine voice announced that boarding for the shuttle to Crescent had begun at gate eighteen. I picked my bag up from the floor and slung it over my shoulder. There weren’t that many people headed to Crescent, so only a handful of others followed me as I approached the loading dock.

A pretty young woman with red hair greeted me with a smile and asked for my boarding pass. I handed it to her. She scanned it with a machine and handed it back with another smile.

“Enjoy your flight!” she said in an obviously forced, chirpy voice.

“Thanks,” I replied with an equally forced smile as I stepped past her. I walked through the tunnel that led into the shuttle. It wasn’t a big thing. Basically, a room with the passenger seats, complete with buckles and oxygen masks in case of emergency, and a lounge area with dispensers for drinks and food to be enjoyed on the way.

The cockpit and baggage areas were sealed off, only accessible by members of the crew, which consisted of two pilots and three attendants. The three were directing passengers to take their seats and preparing for takeoff. Slipspace travel could be a bumpy ride.

I didn’t really have much in the way of luggage other than some clothes, my pad, a few electronics, and the other bare essentials. Pearl had given me the contact information of a guy that could get me some weapons or armor on Crescent, should I need them, but I wasn’t sure I would. Not for a time anyway.

The artificial gravity locked in as the ship’s engines started. The whole room shuddered as they started powering up, and after about a minute, we lifted off the ground. A brief second before the dampeners kicked in, I felt myself press back into my seat as we started gaining speed and altitude.

I looked out the window, watching Osiris fade with every passing second. This would be the last time I’d ever see this planet, and I had to say, I didn’t mind.

It only took us a few minutes to enter the stratosphere, and soon, we were in orbit. I leaned into my window, scanning the open space around us, watching the planet grow smaller in the distance. Even though I couldn’t feel it anymore, I knew we were still accelerating.

The slip tunnel opening was halfway between this planet and the fifth, a barren world named Axti.

Fifteen minutes. That was how long it took before the pilot opened the rift. An anomaly in space that so few people understood and even the wisest of them only had fragments of knowledge. Slipspace, in all its emerald glory, lay before us.

I’d seen this sight before, but never had it looked so beautiful. Never had it been so freeing. It wasn’t the way I’d wanted to do it, of course, but orphans couldn’t be choosers.

The possibilities of my future were all before me. I could do anything. I could be anything.

I could be a nun, an assassin, a dancer, or an analyst. I could be a wife or a doctor, an actress or a vagabond. I could do them all or none, because finally, after all these years, I had a choice in how my life would unfold. I would be the master of myself, and I would never let anyone tell me otherwise.

As the tunnel tore open, and I saw the beautiful lightning crack across the inner green walls. I slipped my hand into my pack, pulling out my childhood pad, and I found a book.

Tales of the Earth: Mankind’s Lost Homeworld.

I ran my fingers over the screen, staring at the title page.

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t going to cry. Despite all the goodbyes, today was a joyful one. The first day of my life.

I smiled as the slip tunnel tugged at the shuttle, dragging us in. It started shaking the hull, and I could feel the now-familiar vibration as the tunnel started speeding us off toward Crescent. Green lights flashed across the windows. Emeralds made of light filled my view as I leaned back in my seat.

Once we were inside, the rest of the passengers unbuckled and started moving toward the lounge. I unbuckled too, but I stayed in my chair, tucking my knees up to my chest while putting the pad down on the table in front of me and flipping to the very first page.

It began with a small note:

Long ago, Mankind knew only one home. One world in all the universe to call its own. All races and creeds lived upon this rock, all vying for the same mound of dirt, knowing nothing of all the distant worlds still waiting to be found.

They called their lonely planet “Earth,” and it was a place of true wonder. It was a realm of unimaginable history and human progress. Many say this is a myth. They claim it to be a legend, written by madmen and rehearsed by grandmothers in the late hours of the night.

But if you would listen, I would show you stories that would leave you in awe. Stories of plains as vast as oceans, cities that stretch across continents, and ships as big as moons. Stories of ancient history, of which we only have fragments, but which speak of great and wonderful things.

The Earth is out there, waiting for its children to return.

It waits for you and I both, dear Reader.

We need only reach out and believe.

Dr. Darius Clare

* * *

Enjoying the Renegade Star Universe? You can grab Renegade Star, the book that started it all, or read the next prequel, The Constable.

For more updates, join the Facebook group and become a Renegade Reader today.

Read on for a note from the author.

Author Notes

Nameless was a story I’ve wanted to write for some time, ever since Renegade Lost was released. Fans have been asking what Abigail Pryar’s backstory was, and I wanted to tell them, but I wanted to do it justice with its own book. Nameless is the result of that.

Abigail’s journey is one riddled with hardship and loss, but she chooses to move forward, no matter the situation. That is what makes her so compelling to me. It takes one hell of a woman to break into a government-controlled facility and rescue a little girl, as we see in Renegade Star, and now we know why.

I hope this story resonated with you, whether you’re new to the Renegade universe or a seasoned reader. Either way, this story is meant to stand alone, adding to the overall mythology while also telling something entirely new.

I don’t know if there will ever be more Abigail books, but there will undoubtedly be more Renegade stories with Abigail in them. If you’re new to the series and would like to see more of this character, check out Renegade Star so that you can see the woman our little assassin becomes.

In the meantime, you can expect the 8th entry in the Renegade Star series, Renegade Children, to release this month (Oct. 2018), along with the premiere of a brand new series in the Renegade universe in early November, called Orion Colony (Nov. 4th, 2018).

As you can guess, I’ve got plenty of new tales to tell in this world, and they’re all coming very soon.

Until next time, Renegades,

-J.N. Chaney

P.S. Amazon won’t tell you when the next Renegade book will come out, but there are several ways you can stay informed.

1) Fly on over to the Facebook group, JN Chaney’s Renegade Readers, and say hello. It’s a great place to hang with other sarcastic sci-fi readers who don’t mind a good laugh.

2) Follow me directly on Amazon. To do this, head to the store page for this book (or my Amazon author profile) and click the Follow button beneath my picture. That will prompt Amazon to notify you when I release a new book. You’ll just need to check your emails.

3) You can join my mailing list by clicking here. This will allow me to stay in touch with you directly, and you’ll also receive a free copy of The Other Side of Nowhere.

Doing one of these or all three (for best results) will ensure you know every time a new entry in The Renegade Star series is published. Please take a moment to do one of these so you’ll be able to join Jace, Abigail, and Lex on their next galaxy-spanning adventure.

The Constable

For Rob,

The smartest man I know

1

Test-taking produces a peculiar silence. Every sound becomes deliberate and magnified. Even the tapping of a foot sends a signal.

I briefly wondered if it would be feasible to grade a test simply by watching the behavior of the test takers. There would always be anomalies, but I felt fairly certain I could deduce the performance of each student within a few percentage points. Clarence, for example, tapped his finger against the side of his seat when he was uncertain about an answer. I had observed this enough times to note it as a consistent behavior. However, not everyone showed such obvious tells or I simply didn’t know them well enough to see it. In those cases, one could examine the movement of the eyes, the way their bodies shifted in their seats, or the rate of their breathing. I saw all of it, even without trying, and somehow I knew their thinking without fully understanding how I knew it.

As for my own test, I had finished it fifteen minutes prior but had yet to submit it. I sat at my desk, hands poised over the tablet as I waited to write down my final answer. I had completed it in my mind after only a few minutes, but turning in a test too quickly aroused suspicion of cheating, lucky guesses, or other interventions, and I had learned the hard way that wherever true excellence arose, suspicion was quick to follow.

I allowed my gaze to drift around the room, but only my gaze. If I had to turn my head, it meant I’d have to feign a stretch or another useless motion and, honestly, it was more effort than it was worth. I sat one row behind the middle to get a better view of the majority of the class, giving me the insight I craved into how my peers were faring with the assignment. Too far back and the teacher might think me a loafer. Too far forward and every action might draw unwanted attention.

Arthur was going to be done soon. He was in the front corner near the door. A poor position. Not only was his field of view limited, but it was the seat delinquents frequently sought when they arrived late to class and didn’t want to appear disruptive. Arthur made enemies he didn’t need by sitting there.

I noted the little jerk Arthur made when he entered his final review phase. He sat upright a bit harder, running his hand across the back of his neck.

I submitted my test and focused on Mr. Fenton. He was always a disinterested teacher. None of the eagle-eyed vigilance of Crenshaw or Mrs. Logan. Fenton’s hands-off and eyes-down style had been helpful in avoiding confrontation for me so far, but today was different.

Fenton was more than just disinterested. He hunched on his desk over his table, his small frame nearly doubled in on itself as he did his best rendition of nonchalantly blocking any peering at his work.

I made a mental note to talk to him after class, if for no other reason than to express my observation about test sounds.

Arthur finished his review and sent his test. He gave himself a moment for a broad smile and a turn to revel in the satisfaction of “beating” everyone else.

I met his gaze as he turned, and he gave me a sly grin to show his dominance. “Arrogance is a poor face worn by a fool,” my father told me once.

I was four years old at the time.

* * *

The test now over, the students hurried to leave. As the final period of the day, Mr. Fenton’s class always saw a quick exodus, and even Arthur remained behind only for the briefest of head-nodding and gloating. Within two minutes, all of the other students were out of the room.

I spent the time making a show of cleaning up my bag and looking for something “important.” I approached Mr. Fenton. “How are things?”

Fenton leaned over his tablet and looked up with a pinch at the corner of his right eye. “Oh, fine, fine. Thank you for asking. Always good to see the students taking a moment.” He smiled.

I was unconvinced. Something was off, evidenced by the repetition of language and the positioning of the body. That pinch in the eye had to mean something.

“Good to hear, Mr. Fenton. See you tomorrow.” I left the room and followed the wall absently with one hand as I considered the information I had just received.

* * *

I greeted the secretary and provided my name.

She gave a curt nod. “What is this about?”

I took a seat to the side of the door. “A small issue with my last class. It won’t take much of the headmaster’s time.”

Her expression remained that blank look of anyone forced into a service role without the underpinning passion. “I’ll let him know.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than the door opened. Headmaster Corrin gave a broad smile. His was genuine with a certain iron reinforcement, eyes engaged and brow raised slightly. Here was a man that cared about his job and its intrinsic purpose.

“Come inside, Alphonse.”

I walked through the door and took a seat. Headmaster Corrin let the door close and sat on the edge of his desk. “What are we doing here today?”

“It’s about Mr. Fenton. I’m certain he’s stealing from the school.”

Corrin drew himself up a little in shock. “Why would you even suggest that?”

I puzzled over the question for a moment. Proof was required, and my gut feeling wouldn’t carry enough weight. “I overheard him,” I said, knowing it was a lie. “He was on a call after class bragging about how he was ‘getting away with it’ and ‘nobody suspected him in the slightest.’”

Corrin frowned his disapproval. “I don’t think you knew what you were hearing.”

His statement didn’t entirely surprise me. I’d brought Corrin information about other illegal activities I’d noticed in the past, largely among the students. These observations ranged from drug use to sexual harassment. Some things I didn’t report on, such as cheating or skipping class, but the larger and more dangerous activities always found their way to his ear. I’d done this for several months, slowly building our trust, though I couldn’t say why I was doing it.

“I’m not expecting you to take my word,” I continued. “Open an investigation on Fenton and find your proof. Quietly, if you must, to save your reputation.”

Corrin sighed then breathed quietly for a moment before speaking. “There have been a few misappropriations of funds, I’ll give you that. These were small at first, and it seems like a system error is unlikely.” He seemed to be thinking out loud.

I waited for the but.

“But accusing a teacher is a serious matter. The accusation alone could destroy the man’s career. I won’t hear of it. Anything else?”

“I think some of the students may have been cheating. If you review Mr. Fenton’s pad, there may be evidence.”

“Of cheating, or something else?” he asked, cocking his brow.

“Yes,” I said, simply.

Corrin walked back to the door. “I’ll look into the matter. I trust you won’t be speaking to anyone else?”

I stood up. “Thank you for your attention on this matter, Headmaster.”

It was out of my hands and, at this point, I felt satisfied.

2

Four days later, I was called into the headmaster’s office during lunch period. The secretary—a stuffy woman by the name of Ms. Clare Dofaine—indicated I was free to eat while I waited for Headmaster Corrin to arrive.

I took the opportunity to actually enjoy my meal for once. In the cafeteria, it was important to move along swiftly. The tables only supported so many students at any given time, leaving many waiting in line to be seated. This provided a sense of urgency, likely an intentional choice by the school board to cycle as many students through as possible in under an hour. It kept us from returning for second servings, as it happened, and consequently lowered the school’s costs. I always endeavored to be done within ten minutes, before the next group could arrive. This gave me better vantages to observe and avoid being boxed in by the press of bodies. Regardless, the quiet of the headmaster’s office provided an interesting change of pace.

I slowly ate the balanced but not always appetizing offerings of protein and carbs in the meal and let myself take in features of the office that were normally at the periphery when Headmaster Corrin was there.

The right wall was bare, save for a window with a blind. This looked out into the grounds and allowed the headmaster to view some of the sports and intramurals that took place below.

The left wall held a bookcase with a few precious real paper books. The titles related to pedagogy of a time long past. Baudelaire, Rosseau, Teffling, and the still-living Herickson.

The back wall contained several plaques and awards. These weren’t too impressive, the kind of mid-tier acknowledgements given to a fair but unremarkable public servant. Lists of educational achievements that amounted to little more than completing courses and attending talks.

A portrait of an admiral from the past was the only true stand-out in the décor. He wore a placid expression meant to show strength, wisdom, or resolve. The right epaulette featured fringe, a star, and a bar.

I sat quietly, looking at the image for some time. Despite my intent to slow down, the meal was still completed by the time Headmaster Corrin arrived.

He slipped in through the smallest opening he could make in the doorway. No sooner was his frame through the entrance than he had closed it behind him. He seated himself at the desk and sighed.

“You were right, Alphonse. I called up a log on Fenton’s personal pad from the last several weeks. Our official reasoning involved an investigation into cheating, as you suggested, by some students with unusually high testing scores.”

“I see,” I replied with a soft nod.

He called up a display and projected it where I could see. “There was nothing unusual in the access or activity logs on the pad. The resource usage was another thing.” He pulled down the first projection and it was replaced with another readout with highlighted peaks along a graph. “Here is the problem. These peaks of processing power correspond with times when the recreational fund was accessed and transfers were made.”

He gave me a worried look and closed out the projection. “The academy appreciates you bringing this to our attention. Mr. Fenton was relieved of his position a few minutes ago.”

A sudden knock on the door had Corrin jumping to his feet. The door opened and a woman I recognized from a photo on the headmaster’s desk came in. “Rupert, you forgot your lunch this morning.” She held a sealed container in her left hand and tugged on her coat with her right even as she pressed the door shut behind her.

She paused as she saw me, and her smile dropped for a moment before it grew wider. “I see. I didn’t realize you had a student.” She nodded to me. “My apologies.” Then she turned back to Corrin and said, “Here you go,” before setting the container on his desk.

There was a difference in her posture as she turned to the door. A rigidness to her step and a tremble in her hand now free of the container. “I’ll let you get back to work.” She nodded at me. “Be good now.”

The door closed, a hint of vanilla and the slight sound of fabric shifting remaining behind. Corrin sat down again, taking a moment before continuing our conversation. “If you see anything else, let me know,” he said, looking at me. “Though I hope there will be no further incidents like this. You are excused.”

I stood and took a step toward the door. “Are you sure you want to know about anything I notice?” I asked him.

The headmaster was distracted as he opened his lunch. His eyes lit up and he paused unexpectedly as he peered at the contents. “What? Oh, yes. Anything you come across that strikes you as unusual. You’ve done a fine job of reporting. We’ve expelled fourteen students and now a teacher because of you, and the school is better off.” He paused. “So, yes, keep it coming.”

I nodded beside the door, then turned to face him completely, placing both hands behind my back. “Your wife is cheating on you.”

For a moment, Corrin did nothing. Then his eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a choked whisper. “What?”

I let the words linger in the air, knowing it would take him time to process. “She’s having an affair. She’s headed to meet with her lover now. If you follow her, you will see.”

Corrin said nothing at first. His eyes flickered between me and the door, a growing fear in them as he began to understand what I’d told him. “G-Get out. Get out of this office at once.”

I did as he asked, not bothering with a response. I knew I was right, and it wouldn’t take long before the headmaster saw the truth as well.

* * *

I returned to class the following morning, ready for another mundane day of so-called learning. I was barely in the door when Ms. Dofaine stopped me from the hall and motioned for me to approach. “The headmaster wants to speak to you.” She pointed in the direction of his office. “This way, please.”

I followed and watched the sideways glances from the students headed into their respective classes.

I suspected I knew what this was about, given our previous exchange.

The halls were quiet for a while before I arrived at the headmaster’s office. His door was cracked, as though it were waiting for me to find it.

Corrin stood inside, and I could already see the unsteady posture, a nervousness in his stance. He had the look of a man distraught and overcome with too many thoughts, his gaze reminiscent of the admiral on his shelf. I closed the door and noticed an empty garment bag strapped across the inside handle.

The headmaster’s shirt was rumpled, his tie missing, and the faint smell of booze and cheap food rose from the nearby trash.

I took a seat and waited a moment. The headmaster remained fixed at the window. His breaths were uneven, and several times he straightened briefly before slumping and resigning himself to leaning against the wall.

A band of light skin revealed the absence of his ring. “You saw them,” I said.

He looked away from the window then, his eyes sunken and red at the edges. He struggled for a step and slumped into his chair, pausing for several seconds before finally giving me a single defeated nod. “I followed her,” he admitted. “After the last time you and I met. I called up the car service and tracked her.” He sat back in the chair and stared at the ceiling, sniffling. “One search led to another. She went to a neighborhood far from home. Some apartment building. When she finally returned to our house, I confronted her, showed her the records . . . demanded an answer.”

“Did she admit to it?” I asked.

“Not at first, but it didn’t take much to get her to talk,” he recalled. “It was like she”—he paused, almost searching for the right words—“like she wanted to tell me and all it took was a nudge. She confessed right there in the foyer. Two years, she said to me. For two years, she’d been seeing a former teacher of this institution. A colleague and man I thought of as a friend.”

I nodded, a sense of pride welling in me. I’d always liked the headmaster. He was a fair man, professional and courteous. Unlike some educators, he took his job seriously but didn’t allow himself the preening self-assuredness that led to conceit.

“I’m glad I was able to help.” I stood up and approached the door. “I will do my best to keep you informed of anything else I come across.”

Corrin croaked out a syllable. “No.” His gaze gained a remarkable concentration but did not move away from the desk. It looked as if he was trying to see through both it and the floor beneath. “No, Alphonse. I don’t want you telling me anything. You’re—”

I sat back down and waited for his thought to conclude.

“—being transferred,” he finally said. “You will be going to our sister school, Quintell Academy. I’m sorry, but you leave tomorrow morning. First thing, before classes start. Return to your room right now and pack your things.”

That was when I saw it—that the gaze he had been giving wasn’t filled with sadness at the betrayal of his wife, but of something else entirely. Since I had entered, I’d felt him acting at a different cadence, a distant tone in his voice that I’d mistaken for distraction. In truth, it had been his way of separating us, emotionally distancing himself from what he thought he had to do.

I’d been so foolish to think that sharing his wife’s affair with him would prove beneficial. How could I have been so arrogant? Of course, it could only lead here.

My father’s words echoed in my mind, and all at once I understood. Arrogance is a poor face worn by a fool.

The quaking in Corrin’s voice and the slight tremble in his hands were not anger at the misdeeds of his wife or the betrayal of his former colleague. It was fear. The same fear I’d seen in my father when he sent me away. The same fear that I’d tried so hard to avoid.

A brief moment of that day flashed in my mind. Father, angry with me for telling him about his brother’s behaviors, not wanting to believe it but knowing it was the truth. Mother clinging behind him and crying.

I had intruded on the headmaster’s life. Without knowing it or understanding it, I had invaded his privacy and turned his world inside out. It was happening again, and now I would have to leave. I was a victim of my own pride, impaled upon my ego.

“Leave, Mr. Malloy. Just . . . leave.” He thrust a hand at the door and leaned heavily with the other planted on the desk. His eyes had not moved.

“Thank you for the time here, Headmaster,” I stated, turning away and walking out the door.

I saw the secretary feigning interest in her screen. A security officer tried to look both official and invisible against the far wall. Everyone would soon know that Alphonse Malloy was being sent away. Word would spread through the halls as gossip always does, and theories would emerge in a matter of days.

I walked to the hall, keeping a normal pace, and soon returned to the dorms. I tried my best to ignore the outside world, to focus on what would come next. Somehow, I sensed two men in the distance, far behind me, always keeping my pace. Security officials, perhaps, tasked with keeping an eye on the troubled boy with too much to say. I could tell they were there, but I didn’t know how.

3

The next morning, I found myself in front of the headmaster’s door. Classes were still an hour away. It was clear that my removal was to occur before the normal day resumed.

The hallways were still dark. The only light came from inside the office and a few emergency track lights.

I could hear voices. One was obviously Corrin’s, but the other I didn’t recognize. I couldn’t make out any specific words, but the tones were adversarial.

The secretary wasn’t even there. The only other presence was of the security official that had brought me from the dorms. He stood near the entrance and waited to escort me to wherever my next destination would be.

The argument inside the office was short. Only a few words were exchanged before the door was thrust open. Corrin stood in the doorway with far more purpose than he’d expressed the day before. Gone was the slump and the tremors in the hands.

He gave me a fixed gaze and a quick nod. As he gestured inside the office, I noted that he seemed more upset at his visitor than me. Or perhaps it was an anger he had come to after the despair of his wife’s affair had subsided.

The second man did not strike me as a school official. He stood too rigid and his shoes were too ostentatious—a thin silver trim against the tip, tapping the floor with each step. They didn’t seem comfortable or well-worn, but rather as though he’d barely worn them at all.

Corrin introduced me. “Mr. Malloy, we are joined by a representative from our sister school, Quintell Academy. This is Mr. Black.”

I gave the strange, tall man a quick nod and sat down as indicated. Corrin stood to the side of his desk and Mr. Black took up the headmaster’s usual position behind it. The role reversal certainly could explain Corrin’s anger.

Corrin did his best to look like he was in charge and in control, his posturing coming off as little more than nervous theatrics to Quintell’s unmoving figure.

Mr. Black smiled at me. “Hello. I’m here to interview you briefly before we leave. Consider it a useful tool for placing you in the right classes and programs at Quintell Academy.”

Corrin balked at the thought. “I’ve never heard of such a placement interview. The transfer is simple and already—”

“Mr. Corrin,” Mr. Black interrupted, “this exchange would be easier if you would excuse yourself for the interview process. Thank you for the kind use of your office.” All of this was without a sideways glance at the headmaster. Mr. Black also outmaneuvered any complaint or resistance from Corrin before it could even be raised.

Corrin frowned slightly, but it was enough to show his discomfort with the old man. He proceeded to take his leave, but paused at the door. He took another look at Mr. Black, furrowing his unmistakably thick brow. “I hope you’ll be quick about this, sir,” said the headmaster.

Mr. Black said nothing and gave no indication that he cared. His emotionless face revealed nothing to me, not even in the slightest, and I found this most troubling.

Black’s eyes drifted to mine as Corrin shut the door behind me. The old man did not pierce or glare at me but simply observed. He had the face and demeanor of someone you could meet a dozen times and still know nothing about him, with no discernable features to tell his story. No scars or blemishes, and only enough wrinkles to suggest that he was over forty. He kept a dispassionate energy about him, as though he could be doing anything else at this moment.

He moved slightly to bring up a display on the console. The letterhead for Quintell Academy shone bright against the standard lights of the office.

Mr. Black smiled, a short bit of courtesy. “Mr. Malloy, good to meet you. How is the day treating you?” he asked. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get this transfer over with.”

I noted the shift in tone and the way he transitioned from statement to polite questions. “You’re not from Quintell.” I matched his previous tone, leaving no room for maneuvering in my statement to him.

That affected smile presented itself again. “I am here to talk with you. That is all you need to be concerned with.”

“The only reason this is happening is because the headmaster prefers I disappear,” I stated.

“I suppose he does,” said Mr. Black.

The answer surprised me. I had expected resistance to my accusation, given the seriousness of its implication. “If you know that, then why are you going along with it?” I asked.

“I have no reason to interfere with Headmaster Corrin’s work,” said Mr. Black. “Nor should you, in point of fact.”

“How do you mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know the details of your behavior, nor do I care enough to learn. However, what I see leaves me with enough information to deduce that you would be better off elsewhere, Mr. Malloy. In this case, as a member of Quintell Academy.”

I settled in, allowing myself to observe the whole room and take in the information without focusing on anything specific. Again, mirroring the energy and affectations of Mr. Black. “I know you’re not from Quintell, or any other academy. What are you actually doing here?”

“That man was happy to hear your theories in the past, I suspect,” continued Mr. Black, paying no mind to my accusations or questions. “He likely enjoyed having you around to feed him information on the goings-on inside this institution. But the way he looks at you, the way he acts around you”—he paused, presenting a smile—“you’ve made him afraid of you.”

I said nothing.

“Shall we begin?” asked Mr. Black. “Question one. What is your name?”

I noted that my name was already printed on the screen, along with several file names that my records and transcripts must have included. Also, Corrin had introduced me when I came in. “Alphonse Malloy.”

Mr. Black continued. “Question two. Have you ever committed an act of violence that was not to defend yourself or another?”

Despite the leading wording, it was still clear that the question was meaningless; the answer was known in advance and also irrelevant. “I’ve never so much as raised a hand against anyone.” I waited a beat before continuing, long enough to disrupt the back and forth but before it was an interruption. “How do you know if I’m telling you the truth?”

Mr. Black gave no reaction to the delay or the follow-up question. He simply continued. “Question three. How old are you?”

“Fourteen years, three months, five days.”

“Question four. What is your earliest memory?”

There was something in that last question. A tiny hint of a spark in Mr. Black’s eyes. The transition was slight, but there was no way he would know the answer this time.

I took a second, momentarily letting my own gaze shift as memories returned. “I was in a car, my mother and father in the front. It was sunny. Late afternoon and spring. I was two years old.”

“Question five.” He punched a button on the display and an image replaced the academy letterhead. It remained visible for two seconds then went back to the letterhead. “List everything you just saw.” His tone was a touch eager but more clinical than the previous one.

“The foreground is a busy street. Forty-seven people total. They are of varying heights and proportions. There are three couples: two hugging and one engaged in a kiss. There are Sixteen unique hairstyles and twelve colors.” I took a quick breath. “Six figures are fighting or at least at odds. There are twelve buildings. The architecture suggests early century Berrinian. There are five animals: a dog, two rodents, and two cats. The yellow cat is giving chase to a rodent.”

Mr. Black listened to the descriptions without comment or reaction. He took no notes. “Question six. What would you like to do with the rest of your life?” The question was once again asked as a formality with no regard for the answer.

The question caught me by surprise, and for a brief moment I shifted in my chair. “I would . . .” I paused, unable to find the words. “I am going . . .” Again, nothing. It wasn’t a question of fact but opinion, and I had no answer ready to give.

Mr. Black dropped his smile and frowned. “You’ve never considered the future?” The phrasing suggested something, but I couldn’t place what.

“My parents were programmers. Maybe that.” The answer seemed flat and hollow, even to me, and I knew it was a lie.

Mr. Black turned off the letterhead projection. “Does programming interest you?”

I heard myself mutter, “I don’t know.”

Mr. Black nodded and stood up. “Very well, then. That’s all. I’ve everything I need from the test. You will depart for Quintell Academy at once.” He walked to the door and paused. “Good luck, Mr. Malloy.”

He looked at me in that moment. Actually, truly, at me. Not around or through, but into my eyes. It was more than any of the teachers had done, more than the other students, and I didn’t know what to make of it.

4

I considered the gravity of my situation as I strapped into the seat of the shuttle. Around me, new travelers and weary frequenters busied themselves with pre-flight rituals. I went through the motions of my own checklist while considering the past day and beyond.

I realized I was in a memory freefall when the launch warning beeped. A voice spoke through the individual speakers in the seat and listed the final checklist items. “Launch in five minutes, expect ignition turbulence. All crew strap in. All passengers are green lit.”

I was disturbed to realize I had memory-dumped myself through the verticalization stage. My legs were above my chest, my back parallel with the ground. It was a strange feeling, gravity weighing you down in this position, but it was one I’d experienced a few times before. It was far easier to load the shuttle horizontally and then move it into position on the staged boosters. This both ensured comfort for the passengers in boarding and compliance for takeoff, as anyone that failed to strap properly would tumble as the zenith moved past a grade of fifty degrees.

“Three-minute call. Second stage ignition ready.”

There was a deep rumbling from below and around as the primary booster built pressure and the secondary systems were super-cooled to avoid depressurizing before they were needed. I lacked the engineering prowess to understand exactly what was needed to establish a space elevator on the planet, but part of me wished the government had chosen to build one.

“Fuel pressure maximized. Beginning initial acceleration.”

It was hard to look around at this stage of a launch. The g-forces began to build and push me back in the seat. My field of vision was also drastically reduced by the full helmet. Minors, which I was counted as, were required for insurance reasons to be fully suited for takeoffs. It was an outdated and, frankly, ridiculous policy. I was allowed to remove the gear once we achieved orbit, the one place where it would do any good.

Still, the helmet did give some extra support on the neck. It didn’t take too many launches to start seeing demyelination of the spinal cord. That and the low gravity demineralization were reasons to avoid constant travel on commercial transports.

“Activating stage two propulsion and accelerating to escape velocity.”

My idle fascination with the specifics of extra orbital flight were not enough to keep me from being annoyed that I was also forced to listen to the play-by-play. It was assumed that, psychologically, minors were less prone to panic if they knew exactly where the ship was in the launch process.

Fear of exploding in atmosphere or crashing via bad telemetry was almost laughable. The last mishap of that sort was a half-century past and attributed to impact with a falling object. A fluke so rare they didn’t even institute additional scanning protocols to counter it.

“Final stage firing, leaving orbit en route to dock with designated transport vessel.”

Another beep and the controls for the screen in front of me unlocked. I saw Provinka City drift away in the onboard replay. Direct broadcasting of the on-site cameras was blocked during launch. They were prone to sudden cut-outs at velocity shifts, which could cause panic to a young viewer live. So the footage was recorded and edited to give an impression of a smooth takeoff. The final blanket for the poor psyche of space travelers from long ago. Regulations and safety measures didn’t evolve with sensibilities.

The imagery of Provinka City reminded me of my sole experience with space flight. I was ten and recently removed from home by my father. It was “recommended” that I would be better off in boarding school off-planet. I had been sent systems away, literally lightyears away so they could feel safe.

Even then, years ago and one of my first experiences outside of my parents’ watchful care, the safety features for minors had been annoying. The video playback was more interesting to me, though. I recalled the way my home had drifted below me, growing smaller and becoming obscured by clouds, then seeing the curve of the atmosphere and finally the darkness of space. I knew, subjectively, in what direction my original system lay, but I hadn’t bothered to identify the specific star. It was just a place that I had been.

My guardian ad litem at the time served from the moment I was brought aboard the shuttle and discharged when I left the port in Provinka City and became a ward of the academy. I was old enough this time that no such guardian was appointed, or perhaps Mr. Black was named such. He was not on the shuttle, which I didn’t find surprising. Whatever organization was behind him clearly had other transport options.

“Free cabin movement is permitted until docking with the Heavy Hand in approximately one hour.”

I removed the helmet so I could look around. I was distracted from my thoughts of Mr. Black and his clearly made-up cover as a representative of Quintell Academy. The hum of conversation from the other passengers took precedent.

An old man shambled to the front of the craft and was first in line to start requesting favors of the crew. An implant blinked on his left shoulder, visible through the loose shirt he was wearing. The implants were meant to compensate for strain from frequent travel and as recorders for medical data. Long-term understanding of the effects of space flight required a constant influx of data.

I considered the ramifications of the device for a moment, as well as the research that went into it. I recalled reading some notes from my mother’s terminal months before my expulsion from her life. She was developing some kind of selection algorithm for test subjects. I recalled the notation, but nothing of the code. I found it difficult to maintain information with no relevant reference point.

That brought me back to Mr. Black and this morning. The series of questions was a puzzle in itself. The memory assessment of the image made sense in one fashion but left me wondering what else could have been behind it. Why had a man like that come to see a student like me? His observation skills had been intriguing, the way he gleaned specifics about my relationship with the headmaster and our history. It was impressive, and I wanted to speak with him again, though part of me suspected I would never have the chance.

What had me baffled was the final question. The question had its own set of possible implications. An emphasis on curriculum was obvious. Perhaps it was posed to ascertain if continuing education was worthwhile for a discipline case. It was my inability to answer the question that was a problem.

I had thought about it before. At least, I supposed I had. By my age, I had been encouraged to write a dozen essays on the topic. To make art or give speeches about a future career or place I would prefer to live.

I hadn’t answered the question dishonestly in the past, I just hadn’t put any real truth in it. Where I would go was where I would end up. What I would do was whatever I would do. These responses changed based on the person asking because I doubted they cared about the answer. It was an assignment. Work to keep the school day moving.

Many people find a talent they possess and expand. Others stumble into an opportunity and stay because they don’t apply decision-making. Still others follow in the path of their parents or well-off relatives, repeating patterns they have seen work.

The answer I gave to Mr. Black followed that pattern. It sounded like the kind of answer he wanted, but it clearly wasn’t. I knew as I spoke that it was wrong. What I didn’t really understand was why.

What did I want out of life? What was the future? By many accounts, I had at least ten years of schooling or more to go through. But knowing the answer to this question shaped many of those years. If I acknowledged that the question had weight to it, why didn’t I have an answer?

Worse, why didn’t I care enough to have one?

A crew member approached me. “Can we get you anything?” His voice was remarkably free of the condescension I heard while boarding and being strapped in.

“How long until we dock?” I decided to probe for more personal information from the man behind the Paul nametag.

“It will be fifty more minutes and then twenty of seated time while the docking takes place. Do you mean until we hit the slip tunnel or the whole journey?” He was leaning against the seat now, giving me his full attention.

I calculated the trip would be roughly another two hours of undocking, taxiing, and eventual landing. All told, it would be evening before I was on Meridian in the Androsia system. “Any dense fruits you have, and a water, would be fine. Thank you.”

He slapped the headrest on the seat. “You’re a smart traveler. Lot of these people will be squirming during the other strap-down phases. Nervous drinkers always have nervous bladders. You sure you don’t want something a little extra?” He gave a broad, exaggerated wink.

It was unlikely he was baiting me into requesting alcohol. I took the gesture as best I could, mirroring his friendly energy. “Maybe next time. I’m still tipsy from breakfast.”

He laughed. “I’ll be right back with your snack and water.”

Meanwhile, the frequenter from before had taken his seat three rows back from mine. It was difficult to observe while sitting as they had placed me near the front of the shuttle. I waited for Paul to return so I would have an excuse to look around without appearing obvious. People were always quick to adjust behavior when they thought they were being watched.

Paul returned with a water and two packets of a freeze-dried fruit medley. He handed me one of the waters and a packet, then opened the other himself. “Mind if I chat with you while we wait?”

I smiled and opened my own packet. “Thanks. I’ve not done a lot of traveling. Got any interesting things to share?” I stood up and leaned against the seat, forcing him to position in front of me so I could see the frequenter over his right shoulder.

He started explaining some mishaps and interesting details about journeys he had taken. I let the sound fade to the periphery. From the moment I saw the frequenter quick to get drink orders in, I had become curious about him.

It is one thing to have a preflight drink or to like to mingle. To do both expressed a level of nerves that needed explanation. I could have written it off as jitters if he wasn’t a frequenter.  It was possible he had experienced recent trauma or a personal loss that had him off.

The lack of any secondary characteristics made that unlikely. He had done everything he could to avoid making specific eye contact now that he was back at his seat.

He looked around quickly.

I made a point to react to the tale Paul was relating but not draw too much attention. The frequenter looked my way and then swept past. He had finished one drink and went right into the next. The crew serving him didn’t hesitate to supply him two-deep just to stop being called over.

I noticed he was sweating and kept checking the time. He dropped a drink with a clatter.

Paul was quick to react. “Sorry. Sir? I’ll get that for you.”

The man was slapping liquid off his sleeve and swearing. Paul tried to pick up the container and wipe up the excess liquid as it pooled. For a brief moment, the implant under the man’s shirt went dark and he jiggled it until it lit up.

The frequenter’s implants were powered through bio converters. Either the man had died briefly, or it was fake. It all became clear then; he was a stowaway, probably on false credentials.

Paul finished cleaning up the mess and returned to me. “Looks like we’re about to dock. You can check it out on your screen.”

I flicked on the screen and strapped myself back in. The Heavy Hand, a powerful cylinder with large mounting brackets, came into view. Patches of the ship held enormous cargo containers and there was even a smaller asteroid secured in one spot. The shuttle docked and mounted to a smaller ring of clamps near the center.

Most of the docking procedure was invisible to the monitor, but I took a moment to flip through the feeds and see more of the attached cargo. The Union supply network was impressive. My father would complain that its bureaucracy was slow, and many rules were outdated and staid. “But they keep the transports synchronized,” he would often conclude.

Docking completed and there was a sudden shift in the gravity. Being attached to the far larger mass of the Heavy Hand stabilized the gravity inside the cabin and everything felt heavier and more real.

I watched intently as a green light pierced the darkness at the nose of the transport. It grew in intensity until it was hard to make out any details of the transport amidst the brilliant emerald glow.

I switched cameras to the rear and saw the ship gradually enveloped in the glow as the tear continued to form. There was a great buildup of momentum from inside the transport cylinder.

All around, a magnificent light shone as we entered the phenomenon known as slipspace.

I had to admit, it was quite beautiful.

5

It was mid-evening when I finally arrived at the campus of Quintell Academy. The time duration on Meridian swung close to a thirty-hour day. There would be some hours of light left. Fortunately, it was still spring in the hemisphere of the new school.

Moving from one continent to the other had nothing on interplanetary travel. The stars were different, each sun a different size, and the temperatures were on a different range. The body tried to adjust and get into the necessary circadian cycle. Sometimes, the transition was easy. Other times, it took weeks to adjust.

A woman waited for me as I left the bus and my luggage was retrieved. She was stout and in her late forties, with a short-cropped haircut that gave hints of a military background. Her shoes were scuffed and less than formal. The incongruity with her presentation almost made me laugh. It would be unthinkable to see a student in such disarray at my former school, let alone a staff member, but if this academy had any merit to its name, I likely wouldn’t be here.

She greeted me with an awkward wave that was part handshake and part salute. “Welcome to Quintell Academy, Mr. Malloy. I’m Dr. Maevik, a psychometrician. I’ll be taking you to your room.”

“Psychometrician? So, you’re in charge of assessments?” I asked.

“That’s right,” she said.

I gathered my two bags and stood ready to be directed. “Well, then, lead the way, Doctor.”

Maevik swept into position in front of me and started talking loudly to direct her voice behind, even though it was quiet and I had no problem hearing her. “You can call me Cams. We’re pretty informal around here. No Doctor necessary.”

I said nothing, but she seemed to take the silence as a form of agreement. The walk to the room wasn’t very long. The dormitories were on the edge of the campus to minimize noise and separate the school environment from the living area.

She snapped her heels and turned at the door to the dormitory. “You’ll be given a room key and assignment by the floor manager. His room is the first you will see on the right. Your floor manager will also be in charge of directing any facilities problems you have.”

I shouldered my bookbag and opened the door. “Do I report to an office or a person for classes tomorrow?”

She rocked back on her heel and then laughed. “Oh, right. There is an office in the main building that you will hit first thing. They’ll sort that for you.”

“Thank you,” I said and entered. The hallway was sparse and an off-white that left me to wonder if the paint had faded from age or darkened from neglect. I turned the corner to the right and knocked. A minute later, the door opened with a sharp jolt.

An older boy stood there. His hair was shaggy and his lean frame filled out his clothes poorly, leaving everything about him looking rushed and transitional. “Yeah? What?” he managed.

“Alphonse Malloy, new student. I need a room assignment.” I kept it direct and ignored his lack of tact.

“Oh, that.” He shut the door and I waited for a few minutes before it opened again. In the interim, he had retrieved some clothes and a key. “Follow me, we’ve got you over in 109 at the end of the hall. You gotta come back out this way, though, to leave. The doors at the ends get jammed.”

He walked the distance with me, going past a series of doors with odd spots and discolorations along the frames. We stopped at the end and he tried to hand me the key.

I set down a bag and took the key from him.

“Well?” He gestured at the door and then slumped against the wall.

I slid the key card through the slot and watched as the system slowly confirmed the entry. It took almost twelve seconds to cycle green. I shoved the latch and entered. Behind me, the floor manager produced a tablet that he must have had stashed in a large pocket. “Bed, desk, lamp, dresser, all in great condition. One key issued. Sign it.”

He thrust the pad at me with a waiver for the room hastily filled out. I glanced at the furnishings, threadbare and worn but all well enough, then signed the document.

He glanced at the signature, shut off the pad, and began to walk away. He turned back after a few steps. “Hey, if you need anything, don’t bother. I’m not going to try and they’re not gonna get it anyway. Just leave me alone. We clear?”

I nodded. He strode down the hall and back to his own room. I entered mine and set down my bags. Overall, the room was only slightly smaller than my previous one. The quality of the furnishings was a larger issue. Everything was worn and chipped. It didn’t look as if anything had been replaced or touched up in a decade. Maybe since before I was born.

I unpacked my bookbag and sorted the contents into the desk, then I hung up my garments and placed the remainder in the dresser. My clothing consisted of five uniforms, two pairs of shoes, and some sundries. The desk held my three personal books and my pad.

I turned on the pad and set it to local time and declination, then synced it with my watch. With everything put away, I had nothing to do until the following day and my new class assignments. My pad was on the dormitory’s network, but I had no access to the academy intranet. It took a few minutes of looking, but I found the campus curfew listed in a promotional page.  I had several hours before the night lockdown. Assuming the floor manager cared for such a thing.

With nothing to study or anything specific to do, I decided to familiarize myself with the academy grounds. The hallway was clear of any other students, and despite the unkempt nature of the facility, the dorm rooms appeared soundproof.

The campus wasn’t too different from my previous one. There was a dormitory split into several floors and an auxiliary building. Previously, the floors had been arranged by seniority ranking with the auxiliary for special students—children of dignitaries, large donors, and the like. It was hard to say how the arrangement here would work, but I suspected it wasn’t likely to be graced by the sons of dignitaries. This was a school for transfer students, I suspected, each of us deemed unworthy by our former academies. Strange, since we had already been sent away by families that didn’t want us.

After the dorms, there was a central administration building, which also housed core curriculum rooms and teacher offices. Two other classroom buildings stood flanking the center building. They seemed to be, from exterior indications, STEM, humanities, and history buildings. There was also a track and a gymnasium split into multiple sections for different games and activities.

I wandered into the gymnasium and watched other students practicing different sports. The facilities all showed a lack of attention I found concerning. Nothing was broken, outright, but many things were in advanced states of disrepair. There was a pervasive laissez-faire sense here, with the expectant result.

From observing the other students, I noticed that only a few had anything close to a uniform. Even then, it was one or two pieces with the others a mismatch of plain clothes and severely altered uniform fragments. I sat in the bleachers of one of the athletics rooms, observing, when I was approached by two students.

The taller one wore the remains of a uniform blazer over a t-shirt and sagging pants. He had one sleeve rolled beyond the elbow and the other was frayed from some kind of compulsive behavior. “Hey,” he shouted up at me. “Looking good there, newbie. Nobody told you we keep it real ‘round here?”

The shorter one with the muscular legs and thick neck chuckled. He wore an a-shirt over his t-shirt in a clashing set of orange with green that was an affront to the senses. His shorts were once a longer pair of pants that had been cut and folded and pinned in the front and were loose in the back. “You think he knows anything about how it goes down in Quintell, Manson? He looks like he’s never been away from home a minute of his life.”

They split up at the bottom of the bleachers and approached row by row, drifting further apart to flank me. The one identified as Manson took a seat uncomfortably close to me and leaned into my face. The shorter one hedged me in with one leg and hovered forward.

Manson spoke in the same shout he had used at the base of the bleachers but within a few inches of my face. “Transfer student, Gil. Mid-semester. You know what that means?”

Gil swayed at the hips, making tiny gyrations at my right ear and dipping down toward my head with each thrust. “Sounds like something real bad went down. Think he slugged a student or snogged a teacher?”

Simpletons, the both of them, easily riled by insults. Better to stay calm.

Manson pushed in even closer, switching to what I assumed was his best menacing whisper. “I think you got that the other way around. Looks to me like the type that acts out at authority.”

He carried himself on his left leg, placing too much of his weight with no sense as to the balance. If I wanted, I could capitalize on that.

Gil slapped his extended knee with his forward hand, leaving the one behind me unseen. Each slap got a little louder as he staccato-style fired off his next taunt. “Gotta be something stupid. Strike policies and all.”

Manson wiped his nose with the fraying sleeve and then flicked it across my face and chest.

I still pretended the two didn’t exist as I sat there quietly.

Gil broke out in hysterics and slapped me on the back a few times. “Oh, Manson. I don’t know that’ll come out in a wash.” He punctuated his statement by pinching his right nostril and blowing a wad of gunk onto my pants.

It was Manson’s turn to laugh and slap me, each time a little harder. “Probably best if you get out of these dirty rags as quick as possible, eh?”

I kept a calm appearance, acting as though I hadn’t noticed the freshly thrown snot on my clothes. “I’m glad you’re so concerned about my well-being,” I remarked, feigning a smile. “It’s nice to be treated so well on my first day, but try not to worry too much about me. The staff seems to be monitoring the gym, though, which means we’re all safe and sound. Isn’t that nice of them?”

“Monitoring?” echoed Gil. He looked around, but saw no sign of any teachers. “What are you talking about?”

I nodded to the wall with the exit door, near one of the offices. “Just over there, do you see it? There’s a small camera,” I said, as though it should be obvious. “It must be new if you’re unaware of it.” I let out a sigh and smiled warmly. “It’s so nice that the staff cares enough to keep us safe, don’t you think?”

Manson swung back to me, an embarrassed look on his face. “Crap,” he muttered. “When did they install that?”

Before Gil could answer, another voice rang out, speeding up the bleachers. “You two idiots looking to fail out again?”

They both snapped their heads in the direction of the approaching student. It was a fair-haired boy that seemed a bit older than either of them. He had a lanky build but held his posture with an elasticity. He seemed almost to be made out of rubber the way he swayed and bobbed as he came up the rows, sporting a cocky grin while wearing a simple shirt and pants outfit with bright-colored athletic shoes.  He was self-possessed and alert in comparison to the other two and their wincing gazes.

Manson sat me up with his back hand and scooted away a bit. “Just introducing ourselves to the new guy, Vance.”

Gil bounced to the side, keeping more than a row distance between himself and Vance. “We were updating him about the dress code here.”

Vance nodded. “I see that. You want me to get you the answers for Balner’s chem test the end of the week? You can’t be doing a disciplinary before. They’ll force you to solo proctor it.”

The two self-styled thugs moved further away and started to retreat down the bleacher rows. Manson turned back and fixed me with an intense but unconvincing glare. “We’ll see you later.” He turned his attention to Vance. “We want those answers. Tomorrow. This one can have a bit before we get back around.”

Vance gave a dismissive wave. “Yeah, yeah. We get it. Just see I don’t hear anything out of you two before next week or you might find yourselves relying on your own brains to pass a class. Dark thought, my friends.”

He offered a cloth and sat down a few seats to the side of me. “I’m Vance, if you didn’t catch that. They were Manson and Gil. They aren’t all bad, just examples of what happens when you buy into the idea that there needs to be a hierarchy in boarding school.”

I took the cloth and did what I could to remove the biological material that had been left behind. “My last academy had disciplinary staff and security. I don’t think people like them lasted long.”

Vance smiled. “Sounds like a story to hear. Look, they aren’t criminals, just forceful and a little stupid. You’ll learn to get on their good side, or at least stay off their bad side. No security here to help you other than the curfew watch, and they won’t step in to help, except to take you all up for a disciplinary when the dust settles. Around here, you have to learn how to handle your own.”

Vance had a way of talking that was engrossing and made you want to listen and pay attention. Charisma, some people called it, and it poured from him. His word choices left me wondering where the sentence was going, and the sound of his voice was inviting without becoming snide.

“I’ll do what I can,” I said, keeping my answer short and simple. Saying what I knew was what had landed me here and I needed time to learn more about my surroundings and the people in them.

Vance gestured to Manson and Gil on the other side of the gym. They were presently getting physical with another student. “Some people will always look for trouble to get into. What’s your story? Mid-semester transfer does raise some red flags.”

Despite thinking I should keep more to myself a moment ago, something about Vance was trustworthy. Maybe it was the open and inviting attitude or that he clearly knew more than he was letting on. The way he stepped in suggested he was opportunistic but not conniving.

This school was far different from the kind I’d previously attended. Less security, more potential enemies. Having a friend like Vance might do me some good. At the very least, I could observe and learn from him.

I gave myself another pat down with Vance’s cloth and then offered it back to him.

“You should probably toss that. No reason to allow anything those two had to incubate,” Vance said with a smile that I returned.

I set it aside. “I’m here because I said the wrong thing to my former headmaster,” I admitted.

Vance smirked. “So Manson wasn’t far off, eh?”

I bristled at that, the idea that Manson was in the same planetary system to the truth. “No. It wasn’t disciplinary, more the wrong kind of help. I let him know about a teacher stealing and his wife cheating.”

Vance sat upright and feigned a whistle. “Nobody likes a rat . . . what’s your name?”

“Alphonse, Alphonse Malloy.”

“Well, Alphonse Malloy.” He paused. “We’ll have to do something about that, but for now, know that people don’t like uncomfortable truths. You gotta know when to leave it alone. Never tell a man his wife’s cheating. That is shoot-the-messenger kinda news.”

I nodded, but it was clear my acceptance wasn’t enough.

“It’s the principle. You tell a person something they don’t know about their own lives, then you step over a boundary, right? You tell them that they don’t have secrets. You start seeing through people like that and they will do anything to keep you away. Understand?” He stood up and offered his hand.

I took it and let him pull me up. “I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to know the truth. Knowing is everything.”

Vance pulled me in tightly and clapped me on the back. “Alpha, we’re going to have to learn that right out of you.”

6

The rest of the week went smoothly, and midway through the following week, Manson and Gil had yet to live up to their initial threat. My adjustment to the environment of Quintell Academy was outwardly easy. I attended my classes, did my work, and returned to my room. Aside from conversations with Vance, I had little social interaction.

The curriculum was no different from my previous school’s. The curriculum in general was set by mandates through the Union Educational Ministry and teachers were more guides than instructors. Their synchronicity was such that the only material I missed was my day of travel.

The extended day/night cycle of Meridian was considered the human ideal. Thirty hours provided a more useful balance between activities and the sleep schedule was considered optimal for rest without falling into waste. This was also the standard schedule for those living aboard starships. My previous planet swung low at twenty-two in a cycle. A week in and I was fairly well acclimated, with several extra hours in each day to try and occupy myself.

I settled on using my newfound time to tackle the Mr. Black question. This took two forms. The first was to find a way to truthfully answer his final question, what I wanted for a future. The second was the question of Mr. Black himself. Who was he? Who did he actually work for?

I bided my time learning what I could about the school and its inner workings. First came the technical aspects of the layout. Once I had access to the academy network, it took little effort to learn the pertinent details about the buildings, their layouts, and their hours.

Most of the campus was open beyond class hours, with students encouraged to use the facilities to pursue diverse interests. The athletic buildings saw the most use, with links to the network from private rooms the next most common. The history and science buildings were limited in facilities. While the applied physics lab was open and commonly visited, the chemistry supplies were rationed only to qualified student paths.

Between brief conversations and the profiles listed on the network, it took me only half of the day to access the back end of the academy’s files. Work histories, disciplinary reports, and performance reviews for each of the staff revealed nothing out of the ordinary.

The student files were accessed once I had the headmaster’s information down. I learned what I could about each of the other kids I had already encountered and gathered brief details about their records in case our paths crossed. I was no hacker, but my parents had been proficient programmers and I understood the principles of informational technologies. Still, none of it had held any real interest for me. I had learned these skills because I saw the value in them as a means of self-preservation, and raw data was always a powerful weapon.

I knew that access could be monitored, so I used special access from the headmaster’s account and labeled it with the name of a donor I found in the registry. I then shifted the access point to the history building. Once my digital cover was in place, I could read through files with some confidence that my actions wouldn’t be immediately flagged as anything more than routine.

I went back in the files as far as twenty years prior. That was the point the academy had swapped a network protocol, which meant anything before that was beyond my reach.

There were a few references to various Mr. Blacks in the system, but none that matched the man I had met. No files referenced a Mr. Black working for Quintell. He was not a donor, a staff member, or an instructor. He didn’t show up in mentions of the history or private lives of any other students or faculty members. There were some mentions through the news archives of the surrounding city, but they were nothing more than red herrings and dead ends.

My intuition told me that no such person worked for the school and that my interview in Corrin’s office had been for a different purpose outside of the transfer itself.

Two questions circled in my mind, despite all of my digging. First, what was the purpose of the interview? Second, who was Mr. Black, if not a member of the school faculty?

With the trail at an impasse, I moved on to learning more about the social workings of Quintell.

Manson was my first deep dig. He had been at the academy since his twelfth year. He was transferred from a junior academy and had spent his whole life in boarding schools, and yet, according the records, his parents lived barely ten kilometers away on this very planet. Most strange, considering how most of the other children were at least a few systems removed from their home planets.

Gil’s story made more sense, however. Ward of the state after he lost his father to an off-world post. His father was Union military and his mother was listed as medically unfit to parent. He had been in the boarding system since his eighth year, not unlike me.

To my surprise, Vance’s file proved to be the most interesting. Vance was a deep agent from a galactic separatist unit. He was codenamed “Jack Sprat” and was proficient in all known arms and munitions. He had a confirmed kill count in the upper five figures, had escaped authorities in multiple systems, and was listed as DOA and MIA in a half dozen reports.

I found myself struggling not to laugh while reading the file. The syntax of many of the claims was off. The entire idea that he was both a deep cover agent—one that nobody was certain was alive—along with a list of his alleged accomplishments showing up in a file accessible by low-tier public administrators was ridiculous.

It was clear that Vance had accessed his own personnel file and had put in his creatively false backstory. The why was unimportant to me, but the how was something of interest. Anyone that could add to these files could also come back and read them—read any of them, for that matter. Vance probably knew quite a bit about his fellow students and faculty, the same as I now did.

I opened my own report and read through it quickly. The usual history lined up properly. Transferred in eighth year to a boarding academy, parents alive but indisposed for purposes of education and care. A note about full support from a fund set aside. Something I would have to check later.

The discrepancies started before the transfer. Listed as a severe disciplinary case from my thirteenth year. No changes to transcripts of classes or grades. Proximal reason for the transfer was special request by Headmaster Corrin.

The written report from Corrin had an interesting flaw. He mentioned a Quintell contact agreed to take me as a student. A line later, he stated a formal transfer guide was not needed. But in his closing, he left a note that the school’s guide had been rude and demanding. I assumed this was in reference to Mr. Black, despite there being no mention of his name.

There were no notes left about further discipline or intervening actions. Nothing to indicate that I wasn’t on track to complete my formal education within the next three years. Life at Quintell was different than before, but nothing about it was a burden.

After logging out of the network, I wrote my activity for the day in my student account. I kept the password easy to crack and reported uninteresting routine notes. Then I closed out my pad.

* * *

It had now been a full week since my arrival at Quintell, strange as it felt.

I left my room intent on heading to the athletics buildings. I would have preferred to hit the history and humanities building but needed to keep my distance after my diverted network activity.

I walked through the main entrance and headed up campus past the administration building. As I entered the cafeteria, I saw Vance heading my way. I kept walking until we were just outside the track area.

He shot me a broad grin and his signature greeting, “Alpha, my man.”

It had been a week of this nickname, and despite my protests, it didn’t seem to be going away. “Vance.”

He saw my lack of discomfort and seized the opportunity. “Really, Alphonse? One week and you’re done resisting? That shows poor form. I expected escalation, not retreat.” He resumed walking, quickening the pace so I was made to follow him to keep in the conversation.

“Escalation?” I repeated.

“They must have really had you dosed heavily at your last school. Yes, escalation. How else do you establish some dominance and fight for your role in the pecking order? Constant struggle is how we young men advance the species.” He adopted an exaggerated tall and straight-backed posture for this last part. His right hand clasped across his chest in salute. “We owe it to the future to be risk-taking idiots that leave cautionary tales and high-water marks.”

I winced a bit at this concept of the future, a subtle gesture that the sharp-eyed Vance was quick to seize on.

“Little Billy Troublemaker doesn’t like thinking of the future? More of an anarchist type, eh?” Vance shadowboxed against the sky playfully. “Take that, future generations. Alpha says you can kiss his!”

I briefly considered letting something slip from Vance’s “personnel file.” It wouldn’t make a good escalation, as it would tell him more about my activities than his. I struggled to find something suitable. “I don’t believe in futures.”

Vance stopped his boxing routine and slung an arm across my shoulder. “Too nihilist, not enough rebel. You’re hopeless at this.”

We continued walking together across the track and stopped at a fence at the far north edge of campus.

“Not much out here,” I observed. The athletic building and the humanities buildings left a blind spot to the rest of campus at this corner. A large tree blocked the southern exposure toward the faculty lodging where the on-campus staff lived.

“Good eye,” Vance said. “It is about time we worked on your rebel instincts, sorely missing as they are.” He closed his friendly shoulder grab into a headlock and issued a conspiratorial whisper. “We’re heading into the city tonight.”

I pushed Vance away, grateful that he relinquished the headlock without force. “Students aren’t allowed off campus grounds without authorization.”

Vance face-palmed. “Alpha, you don’t hone any rebel instincts seeking permission or quoting policy. I would say you just lost any points you had, but we both know you’re starting at zero.”

“Look, I know you think I’m some disciplinary case from off-world, but I don’t spend my time trying to upset people.”

Vance smirked. “I know, Alpha, you just come by it naturally. It’s what I like about you.” He pointed to the fence. “We’re going to sneak out.”

I followed his pointing finger to the fence. There were signs of some foot traffic, but nothing particularly unusual. “I don’t see anything.”

Vance laughed. It was an odd sound, drifting from nervous to relief in just a few notes. “Whew. I was hoping it was hard to see, but if you didn’t catch it, I think I’m going to have to wander out more often.” He took a step to the fence line and started tracing his hand across the surface. He stopped at one point and fidgeted at a link for a moment. He then traced his hand around a second and third time.

I leaned in close to his back, peering carefully at each separating section of the fence. The links had been disconnected and fastened somehow. “Ah. You are passing through a partial breach in the fence that keeps from triggering the tracking system. As far as the campus network is concerned, you don’t register as absent.”

Vance slipped through the gap in the fence. “You got it in one. You may have noticed, but Quintell doesn’t spend a lot on maintenance. They’re still running software from two decades ago. As long as you don’t pass any of the sensors along the top of the fence or at the gates, you’re good.”

I slipped through the gap in the fence and found myself with no sense of dread or hesitation in the outside world. “They must do at least cursory inspections and head counts through the night?”

Vance choked back a laugh. “Have you seen your floor manager? That lazy bum isn’t doing anything, and he’s pretty good at faking reports of inspections. Not that I think anyone would read them anyway.” He motioned at me. “Here. Help me get the fence secured.”

I held the wire and Vance made several motions like he was tying something along the links.

“Translucent thread,” he explained. “A student at some point had a stash. Almost completely invisible to scanners and no way you’re seeing them with the naked eye. You can feel for them and tie them in a bow. But don’t do a knot. You’ll never find it again.”

7

Now free of the confines of the academy campus, the rest of the plan took shape.

Vance gave me a troubled look and swept me with an up-down glance. “We gotta do something about you and this uniform thing. Doesn’t matter how we show up in the system if you obviously look like you don’t belong in the city. If one of the teachers is out on the town and they spot us, we’re done for.”

“I only have uniforms,” I said. The truth was I didn’t even know how to get civilian, or as some of the students called them, “townie” clothing. “We can’t go shopping. I don’t have any money, either.”

Vance snickered at that and hooked his arm back around me. “Oh, Alpha. There is so much about the world off-campus you gotta learn. Let’s call this rebel lesson one. At least try to alter your appearance while we get to our next destination.”

He stepped back and looked me over again. “All we really need to do for now is get rid of the blazer. Nobody walks around sporting a crest on their clothes at our age unless they are forced to.”

I considered the crest on the lapel of my blazer and the garment itself. I had been wearing one for so many years, it didn’t even have a weight. I slid the blazer off and tied it around my waist.

Vance rolled his eyes. “Excellent. You look like a boarding school kid pretending not to be a boarding school kid.”

“No rebel points for that?” I hazarded.

Vance sighed dramatically. “We’ll call that partial credit. Look, rebels don’t have attachments, my man. Just ditch the thing.”

I looked back at the fence and the campus. Easy enough to just leave it here. I removed my ID card from the pocket and folded up the blazer, shoving it into a depression between the outside of the fence and a clump of overgrown grass poking through to the outside. Then I took off and pocketed my tie, rolled up and pinned my sleeves, and presented myself to Vance.

He nodded. “You could still pass for a choir boy in a pinch, but at least it’s not obvious where you sing the hymns. Let’s get moving, we’re burning daylight.”

Vance pointed down the hill and into the downtown area. “All the action happens that way.” Then he pointed to the west of campus and a residential area beyond. “But we’re going to take a detour and find you a more permanent solution to”—he gestured at my clothes— “this.”

I followed Vance for more than a kilometer as he weaved his way off the main road and into a neighborhood. Along the way, he chatted about classes and some of the different people he had seen come and go in the past few years. Quintell had more turnover than any institution he had heard of. It wasn’t exactly a bad school, it just wasn’t a place you went if everything was going well.

I took in the apartment buildings and street names as we moved into smaller houses and bigger yards. I found myself angry that the street names abandoned any form of pattern. They didn’t stay alphabetical, so as to indicate a progression, or even keep consistent with the north/south or east/west of boulevards and avenues. Things named roads ended in cul-de-sacs, and circles joined up with terraces.

Finally, Vance stopped in front of a two-story brick façade house. It had a flat roof with angular window awnings and a porch peculiarly attached to the side of the building. “This is the place,” he said.

He walked through the gate and over to the porch, bypassing the front of the house, and skipped up the three stairs with a touch of flair. Then he waved back to me. “C’mon, Alpha, get up here. Stop standing in the street like an idiot.”

I followed him onto the porch and to a country-style half doorway. The bottom half was closed and the top propped open with a rod.

Vance knocked on the door frame twice and then took a step back. Inside, the series of explosions and sudden curses stopped. A moment later, the top door was pushed open and the rod brandished by a man I recognized from the academy. It was Mr. Kurns, the facilities manager. He was in his late thirties according to his file but looked more mid-forties. He had gray at his temples along with a low fade haircut that implied military service. His file mentioned nothing of the sort, so I guessed it was more about comfort since he worked outdoors a great deal wearing a hat.

Vance gave him a hearty greeting and handshake. “Need some work done around my room.”

Mr. Kurns gave me a glance and then focused on Vance. “Is he going to need some work on his place too? Haven’t seen him before.”

Vance nodded. “This is my main man Alpha. Only been here a week. I’m getting him settled.”

Mr. Kurns sized me up. “He looks like he’s never been outside. You sure about this?”

Vance nodded again and leaned against the doorframe in what I was learning was his “trust me” slouch. “You don’t gotta worry about Alpha. He’s harmless. Just hasn’t really found his footing in this whole living thing. I’m helping him log some street smarts time.” Vance handed over his student ID. “Just some pocket cash for me.”

Mr. Kurns disappeared inside the house, letting the top half of the door swing closed. The sounds of explosions and casual swearing came back for a few minutes before stopping. The door reopened and he handed Vance back his ID along with some cash. “You’re low. Take it easy for a bit unless you can get a line on something.”

Vance deepened his trademark slouch. “I’m good for it. I always find an angle. Now how about you check on something for my man here.” He gestured at me by the door.

I stepped up and pulled out my student ID. “I think I need some pocket money and something for clothes?”

Mr. Kurns took the card and stared at Vance. “Really? Does he even know what’s going on here?”

Vance gave a shrug. “Alpha, explain to Mr. Kurns what his business is for me.”

It all became clear in an instant. “Mr. Kurns, as facilities manager, is in charge of ordering needed equipment to upkeep the grounds and buildings on campus. Grounds and buildings that show signs of heavy use and incomplete repair. He’s ordering supplies with school funds and then misdirecting or canceling the orders. He pockets the funds and divvies them out to students, who give him access to their support accounts. That way, he profits and keeps the school just barely presentable.”

Mr. Kurns nodded. “You left out the part where I earmark portions of the student support accounts as donations for facilities. That way, the money goes to my office so I can control how it gets spent.” He smiled with pride. “It’s been a solid side business for me going on three years. I don’t take on new students without a meet and greet. Looks like Vance is vouching for you. I run into trouble, though, and I have all the proof I need to show that you swiped materials from facilities.”

I nodded. “That’s your stratagem. You have plenty of leverage with the IDs and facilities ordering. Nobody would think twice or try to audit you, since oversight doesn’t know exactly what is and isn’t necessary.” I paused. “So long as the grift isn’t too high, of course.”

Mr. Kurns smiled again. “You’ve got a point, Vance. This guy gets it. It takes longer for me to set up a new account. I’ll move a lump sum now, give you a part, and then create a bit of an allowance for you from time to time. Makes everything nice and tidy.”

“It also gives you more up front and you can always hope the student gets cold feet and doesn’t return for their cash. Right?”

Mr. Kurns smiled wider. “No point in doing business if you don’t corner the market, kid. Wait here.” He closed the top door and again the noises resumed.

Vance took a seat and thumbed through his cash before putting it in his pocket. “You’ll like Mr. Kurns, just don’t try to talk to him much on campus. He has an image to uphold.”

I sat down and thought about the likelihood that my parents would notice the changes to my school accounts. They didn’t seem to notice, or care, that the academy name changed.

The door opened and Mr. Kurns leaned out. He looked concerned. “Hey, Vance. Give me a minute with your friend here.”

Vance shot out of his seat and gave me a broad smile. “I’ll be on the road, headed back toward Quintell. Don’t take too long, I’m not exactly patient. Later, Mr. Kurns.”

I walked back over to the half door.

Mr. Kurns waited until Vance was clear of the side porch before saying anything. Then he pulled up a wad of bills and my ID. “You don’t ask for much, do you, kid?”

I took the question as rhetorical and waited for him to continue.

“You may not know this, but every student has a personal allotment. This is money set aside by your parents to be used for incidentals, entertainment, and other things. You haven’t touched a penny of yours in four years. That has me thinking you don’t care to have things or you don’t know it exists. So which is it?”

“I’ve lived on what the school provided me. I don’t really care for other things.”

“I’ll give you some cash now, but I suggest you talk to your floor manager and get a day pass officially, go buy some townie stuff like everyone else. Otherwise, anything you pick up with what I’m giving you is going to stick out. You hear me?” He handed back the ID and gave me part of the wad.

“I’ll get that set up tomorrow.” I put everything in my pocket. “And this allowance?”

“You shouldn’t need anything for a while unless you start spending carelessly. Which will also be suspicious. Just play it cool. I better not see you for at least a month.”

“Thank you. I better catch Vance.” I walked to the street and then jogged until I caught back up with Vance. It wasn’t difficult, as he had barely gone a block.

He scooped me up in his hawkish friend embrace when I got near. “You get that all settled? Good. Next, we’re headed downtown. There is a clubhouse of sorts I’ll introduce you to.”

* * *

It was just getting dark by the time we’d retraced our steps back to the academy and then into the downtown. Vance gave a rundown of our proposed itinerary.

“We’ll hit the Clubhouse first. Do a quick meet and greet. I normally have a few people I need to see at these things to keep business running.”

As always, he left it vague as to exactly what he was up to, for whom, and why. Vance was inscrutable at times. I wasn’t able to distinguish if it was by design or that he had no real plan to uncover.

“After that, we can hit up a few other places. I know some cafes that don’t look twice at students and a few stores if you want to pick up some contraband.”

Contraband normally referred to items not permitted by the school code, though it was again hard to tell if Vance might also mean heavier illegal goods.

Vance stopped and patted his pockets in an odd display of forgetfulness. “Speaking of contraband, someone was expecting me to bring liquor.” He looked around as if trying to make a choice on direction. “Bah. I’ll get ‘em next time. Let’s just go.”

We walked up to a corner bar with a darkened sign that read The Clubhouse. The windows were shuttered, and a realtor sign faded in the window. Vance pointed around the corner, then we went through an alley and around the back of the building. There, a steep staircase led to an external door. Music and conversation poured out around the seams.

Vance stopped a few stairs above the door. “Okay, look. I need to talk to some people when we get in. I want you to stand off to the side and look awkward and confused.”

I knit my brow in worry at whatever plan he was hatching.

“Great, just like that. Now you just stand around and look confused and I’ll talk to my people. Then we’ll see what kind of action is going on. Got it?”

I frowned. “This doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“I’m docking you rebel points for that.” Vance went down the steps and slapped the door. The peephole darkened for a moment then opened. The sounds raged as we entered.

A guy holding a longneck bottle closed the door and sat back on his bench. He looked to be a senior or a recent graduate. The room was lit mostly with ambient light strips connected with the stereo. It pulsed and moved with the sound. The stereo dominated the south wall of the room and was flanked by two hallways. The center of the room held several couches and rough end-tables that formed a ring around the makeshift dance floor. More than a dozen students were seated and having conversations while even more spun and gyrated.

Vance left me at the door as he waved at a student on the closest couch. The two gave a makeshift hug and handshake and started talking. I could barely hear them over the music.

“I don’t got it right now. I got busy and forgot,” Vance said.

“I was counting on the stuff, Vance,” the student replied. “My girl doesn’t get frisky unless she’s had something sweet and fun, y’know?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got some cash. Just hit up somebody here.”

“Fine, hand it over. If I don’t get what I want tonight, you won’t get what you want tomorrow, that clear?”

Vance walked back over to me. “You can look a little less in pain and a little more excited.”

“This isn’t what I was expecting when you said we’d be out on the town.” I found it hard to modulate my voice with the sudden drops and beats of the music.

Vance again slung his arm over my shoulder and moved me through the room and into the left hallway. “Like I said, we’ll do the rounds and then be on our way.”

We walked down the hall past a couple of different doorways. Sounds of engrossing activity could be heard coming from some of them. We rounded the back of the hall and into a kitchen. There, students and local girls were mixing drinks, combining the contents of a dozen bottles of liquor with another half-dozen mixers.

We passed through the kitchen and found ourselves back in the front room. “I don’t see anybody I need to deal with,” said Vance. “You look like you’re not into the scene.”

I gave a strained nod.

“Fine. There’s a holo theater on 23rd and 5th. We’ll hit that up.”

I nodded as we reached the door and exited the clamor. “I don’t think I’m rebel enough for this yet.”

Vance laughed. “You can make up some points by paying for my ticket. I’m tapped out.”

8

The final notes of the orchestral melody woven with a hit song faded out and the theater lights came on. I realized I had lost track of time and place somewhere in the wild adventure of the holo film.

Vance gave me a tap on the arm and I turned to see him beaming. “The Adventures of Marco Grimm kicks ass, right?”

“I have to admit, it was thrilling. The overstory of Marco as a space-traveling hunter that kills savage monsters out of alien legends was goofy.”

Vance frowned and a twinkle in his eye started to fade.

I continued before it got severely diminished. “But I think the sub-plot of Marco trying to bring his girlfriend Atalasha back to life after she was cursed was surprising. And it looks like they set it up for a sequel.”

Vance slugged me anyway, but his twinkle was back in full force. “What do you mean ‘sequel?’”

“That charm that Atalasha was clasping that cursed her, she dropped it when Marco finished the incantation and it fell in the ashes.”

Vance sat agape. “The ashes of the polar Varouth that Marco defeated to get the sixth component. Of course. That is totally going to come back to bite him in the ass.”

The house lights kicked on and I saw that we were the only stragglers still in the room. “I guess we should head out.”

We wound our way out of the theater. I had to shush Vance twice as we passed eager viewers on their way in. “Don’t ruin it for them. That goes against the hunter’s code, right?”

Vance sprang forward and hit the doors, making like he was Marco stalking a Lacona shapeshifter.

I followed him out with a touch more restraint on my enthusiasm. “That second energy drink was a bad idea, Vance.”

Vance bobbed and weaved around a pair of girls heading into the theater. “No such thing as too much energy, Alpha, only a lack of imagination to use it.” He slowed down and resumed his normal slouching gait as he approached me.

Too late, I saw it as a ruse and found myself back in the usual side hug of comradery he so enjoyed. I expected a snide comment about my rebel cred, but he was otherwise occupied. After pulling myself from his grip, I looked in the direction he was focused.

A student I recognized from the academy was across the street. Canton was his name. He was a ginger with pronounced freckles and the trace of a harelip scar. I’d seen him exiting the science building a few times as I entered but had no real contact with him.

Vance gave me another slug in the arm. “Hey, hang here for a minute. I’ve gotta talk to Canton.” He didn’t wait for me to agree but did give a glance back as he crossed the street. His expression implied that whatever they were meeting about would be better without my presence.

I walked to the corner of the theater near an alley and waited. The theater was to the west end of the downtown area and bordered the residential blocks. We were still far south of Mr. Kurns’s place, but I couldn’t help wondering how the initial city layout had been put together with such tall residential buildings here, where the downtown area thinned, and such small ones to the north where the downtown was populated with looming towers.

Vance handed something to Canton, one of the various things he hustled from one person and delivered to another for some purpose. Vance didn’t offer any explanation of his activities, and I didn’t ask. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to work it out without help or simply respected his privacy. Neither option sounded like the whole reason.

I tried to slouch against the wall, faking my best Vance impression, when I noticed a man coming out of the alley on the opposite side. He stood out from the crowd with the fluidity of his movement, but then he quickly blended in. After sweeping past where Vance and Canton were talking, he made his way to the corner beyond. Then he continued to follow the foot traffic and cross the street to the theater side.

I resumed my slouch and made a show of adjusting my sleeves as he came by. He had a headpiece on that was concealed between his thin hat and the popped collar of his large coat. I memorized details about the length and cut as he passed. The hat was interesting as well, the way the brim curled on the sides but looked flat from a distance.

He turned just past me and stopped to adjust a shoe as the crowd he was walking with passed on their way. I took a few steps toward the theater and tried to count out a few beats before turning back. He was gone, but I didn’t spot him heading down the street.

I returned to the corner and found him making his way through the tight alley. There was a slight glow on the side of his head now. Whatever the purpose of his headset was, he had activated it. I followed along slowly, keeping my eyes on him at all times.

I followed him for a block before he turned south, then I stopped at the corner and waited again, counting out a steady ten beats before attempting to follow. I figured it was enough time to avoid any glances but fast enough to keep pace. Once I’d turned the corner, he was already at the far side of the alley.

I wasn’t nervous or fearful. I didn’t know what he was doing, but he didn’t seem dangerous. It was more the excitement of the moment—this sense of mystery and the need to understand what this man was after. He was out here for a reason, and I intended to find out what that was, even at the risk of being found.

I waited for more than ten beats this time. If I lost him, there would be little hope to find him again without a way to track him. Getting spotted would be worse, though. He might not be dangerous, but he would certainly have questions.

I came back around the corner and saw him standing near a wall, the glow of his headset shining steadily for a nearly a minute.

I heard a window slide open next to him, and the headset light disappeared as the strange man climbed through it and into the apartment.

I didn’t bother waiting this time and walked carefully toward where he had gone. A kind of rough cylinder rested on a pipe—something he’d placed here. The smell of old concession eats drifted from around the corner, and the light on the device blinked steadily. I traced the angle toward the window the man had entered.

The window was expensive and part of a linked security system. The etching on the sill indicated it was a Klemtite Essentials system, and the red light from the cylinder flashed at a point just above the sill where the window would normally sit.

I ducked under the glass window to get a better point of view. Inside, I could make out a room and a hallway beyond. A light source was on somewhere in the house and the geometry and white walls suggested it was a bathroom light bouncing from the upstairs floor. I stepped back and looked up to confirm a small sliver of light from the second story coming around the edges of a curtain.

I made my way back to the corner facing out to the street in front of the theater, waiting for the stranger to return.

After about five minutes, the man emerged from the window and closed it. He took the device with the red light and switched it off, then proceeded further down the alley. I left the corner and followed him again. This time, he didn’t stop each block but continued for exactly sixteen blocks. He moved back and forth through each alley with confidence, painting a path toward what had to be his hideout or drop-off point.

I matched my pace to his as he traveled with some winds and twists further west and slightly south, until finally I came to a smaller three-story mid-rise building adjoined to several others. A sign on the courtyard gate listed it as Cascade Gardens.

He entered through the front, disappearing behind a set of foggy glass doors.

I lingered for a few minutes before realizing how long I’d been gone, so I turned around and made my way back to the theater. I came out of the alley to find Vance leaning against the very corner I had been waiting on.

Vance gave an exaggerated shiver. “Where were you, Alpha? I’m dying of cold out here worrying and waiting for you.”

“It’s sixty degrees,” I returned. “Hardly what I would call cold.”

Vance stretched and walked to the edge of the street. “Still, you were gone. I’ve been waiting. Where were you?”

“I took a walk.” Technically it wasn’t a lie, just an omission of context.

“Just a walk? I almost had time to finish a whole new snack tub.” Vance gestured to an empty container jutting out of a full trash can. “Okay, I did finish one, but I was really thinking about getting another.”

“I guess I can fill you in on the details if you want to let me know what you were giving to Canton.”

Vance stretched and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I think I was just having a chat and you were just having a nice long late-night walk.”

I grinned. “Seems like.”

Vance started walking toward Quintell. “Keep this up and you might actually graduate to something beyond rebel in training.”

9

I paced in my room. The excitement I felt tracking the man with the headset had not subsided and I found that I couldn’t sit, let alone sleep.

His actions were too precise, his methods well-thought-out and assisted with cunning technology. Given his clothing and the devices he employed, the robbery itself was almost certainly not about money.

The object being taken was unlikely to be worth more than the time and equipment to take it. The fortuitous nature of the missing wire mesh from the entry window suggested both deeper pockets and a matter of influence. The object stolen was likely about power or manipulation over simple profit. And if it was, then it meant the object was priceless, which seemed doubtful considering the location.

I had tracked the man to a building but didn’t have time to see if he’d left. The building was the last thread that I had learned. It wasn’t, however, the last thread I had to pull. He left several other clues, and I needed to follow each of them up to get an idea of who he was and why he acted the way he had.

It would take considerable legwork to find the right information. Network access was unlikely to get me all the pieces I needed. Fortunately, Mr. Kurns had given me an idea of how I could do this. I opened the Quintell Academy site on my pad and navigated to student services. There was a form to fill out to request a trip into town. The request needed to be filled out and the disclaimers indicated it would take several days to get approved, and still more days to arrange the actual outing.

I closed the site and reconnected the pad to show an access from the administration building. I skipped to the administrative login and entered the headmaster’s credentials, then took a moment to look through the access logs for earlier in the day and found how Mr. Kurns shuffled the funds from my account to his department. It was confusing and I lost the trail. Another puzzle I would need to delve into.

I backed out and accessed my support fund account to see what Mr. Kurns had learned there. The amount open to me was not listed in a numbered amount. Instead it listed a Tertiary Inc. and the term “secured in trust.” A quick network search found that this was banking code used to describe an assurance, usually given between businesses or other legal entities, to pay for any expenses based on the word of the company itself. With the name Tertiary Inc. in hand, I now had three puzzles to unravel.

For the immediate task, I dummied a form and backdated it. Then I approved it and assigned Proctor Camille Maevik to escort me to town.

I requisitioned three destinations with optional secondary stops as needed. I listed a trip to a clothing store, a tech supply store, and a job shadow tour of Klemtite Essentials.

Buzzing with the possibilities and a plan firmly in place, I let myself drift off to sleep.

* * *

For the first time I could recall, I found myself desperate for class to end. Even the dullest material provided interesting avenues for watching the reactions of other students with a lower tolerance for information absorption. Perhaps this was a manifestation of my own eagerness. I had never felt a pressing need to do something with my time.

I had also not made plans for my own reasons in the past. The final class wound to a close and I quickly made my way through the halls and to the maintenance area.

Proctor Maevik was waiting at the entrance, prompt, if not overly enthusiastic, as always. She gave me her trademark confused salute-wave. “Good to see you adjusting, Alphonse. We will be ready to leave in a moment. Mr. Kurns is bringing out our transport.”

The larger roll door of the maintenance building activated and winched up into the ceiling. A van backed slowly out of the shop and pulled up alongside us. Mr. Kurns exited the vehicle and held the door for Proctor Maevik. “Sorry about the radio. Damn thing is jammed on and a bit loud. She’ll get you where you’re going.” He nodded to me with a wink while Maevik got situated inside.

I opened the door and was startled by the loudness of the music, but I sat down and strapped in. Clearly, conversation with Maevik would have to wait until later. There was little concentrating to be done over the noise, so I nodded to her and indicated I was ready to go.

To her credit, she didn’t try to speak over the sound but simply put the transport in gear and headed out. The shops I wanted to visit were already loaded into the itinerary from the forms I had put up earlier, so there was no need to discuss our next destination anyway.

We hit the road and made our way into the downtown area, but I didn’t recognize the streets or the route. Driving often took paths that walking both excluded and didn’t account for. As we rode, I heard subtle noises under the music. Mr. Kurns had jammed the radio himself to cover up the age and shoddy care of the vehicle. I smiled to be “in on it” and listened to the stress of the engine and shaking of the panels as we made our way east of the theater and into the far southeast corner of the downtown area.

Maevik pulled into a parking garage in the area and parked, shutting off the transport. The music ceased, leaving an intense silence that rang in our ears. “Do you think we’ll need several trips?” she asked.

I considered the large amount of space in the transport. It was designed to carry full loads of students or gear for the academy. Mr. Kurns had removed the other seating and put in a variety of nets, which created pockets to organize cargo.

“I’m only buying a few essentials. I think I’ll be able to carry it all in one go, Proctor Maevik.”

She frowned and shuffled her scuffed shoes on the floor. “I told you, call me Cams.”

“I’m not good with nicknames. It’s strange to use them for school staff, so I’d rather not.” I tried to sound reassuring but probably came across as condescending.

She smiled and opened her door, turning back to me before I had finished unstrapping my seat belt. “My role at the academy is as a supporter. I am not officially a teacher and I don’t have a regular schedule like the rest of the staff. Think of me as an older sister. I’m here to bridge the gap between boarding school and the outside world.”

I nodded and opened my own door. “I’m quite certain your job description is to monitor students for truancy and during exams. You’re more covert security than a sister.”

She came around the side of the vehicle once I was outside, then fixed me with a steady glare and an overly warm smile. “I’d like to think my security days are behind me. Can you at least try to loosen up there, Alphonse? Live a little and be a rebel every once in a while. You might find that it suits you.” There was a warning in her stance. Proctor Maevik had a past that I was suddenly much more interested in learning about, but that would have to wait.

I nodded again. “I’ll follow your lead, Cams,” I said, giving her the satisfaction of the name. “That is, if you don’t mind that I’m only a rebel in training.”

She clicked the heels of her ratty shoes together and performed her salute-wave. “There are plenty of ways to get into trouble, Alphonse. Dare to be original.” Her smile remained warm, but there was a haunted quality in her eyes. Something I couldn’t place, but I knew without knowing that she had suffered a loss. Not just a loss, but a sacrifice.

I walked after her and we departed the parking structure onto the street. Maevik threaded through the crowd of shoppers efficiently, leaving me to sometimes apologize to a bystander or wait for a group to pass. She really knew how to get through a crowd, finding gaps and predicting the ways the lines would shift to allow her in. It was a shame she kept forgetting I was following along.

Our first stop was a mixed styles and ages clothing store. I had picked a general shop to get an idea of what I was looking at. Clothing was a diverse pursuit and creating an individual style was more important than following a trend. Or so I had read, which in itself created a kind of “look unique” trend.

I walked from aisle to aisle, reviewing the different colors and fabrics. Nothing “spoke to me” or “jumped out at me” like the fashion articles suggested. Everything looked like clothing.

Maevik watched patiently for nearly an hour while I browsed and touched nothing. “If I didn’t know better, Alphonse, I would say you were just wasting time being off campus.”

The accusation startled me. “I don’t know what I want. Nothing seems any more useful or important than the others.”

“Well, how do you see yourself? Or how do you want to present yourself to others?” She subconsciously rubbed the heel of each shoe against the toe of the other.

“Cams, you make a good point,” I admitted.

Clothing had never been about what I’d wanted to wear. It was always about how I wanted people to perceive me. More importantly, it was a way to have them not perceive me. My uniform had drawn the attention of Manson and Gil. My attitude had interested people like Vance and Mr. Kurns. People saw what they wanted to see.

I moved quickly then, going from aisle to aisle collecting a few shirts and pants. I picked up a few outer shirts and then some nondescript shoes. Within minutes, I had a pile of purchases. We checked out and took the bags back to the transport.

Again, Maevik led the way through the crowd with deft agility. She was also seemingly unencumbered by her bags and I fell further behind the second time. I was huffing and puffing by the time we reached our transport. Whatever sense she used to move was impossible to repeat. There were moments when she simply vanished.

We stored the load at transport and headed to my second destination in the same area, an upscale shop that sold men’s coats.

I decided to keep Maevik closer as we traveled so I could spot whatever she was seeing in crowd movement. “Thanks for the advice back there. It helped me decide what to do.”

She stopped at a few gaps that appeared while she tried to focus on responding to me. “Really? It looked to me like you were just grabbing whatever. Nothing you ended up with says much of anything. It is all over the place.”

I smiled inwardly but played it cool. “I thought it was best to try a lot of things. See how they felt outside of the store. Then I can make better decisions next time.”

“Is that it?” She rubbed her heel against her toe again. “I better not see those clothes on any other students. Especially two I could name.”

We arrived at the next store together. The pattern in her thinking and observations about crowds remained unclear, but I was learning. “Nothing like that, really. I’ll show you here. I have some very specific ideas about what I need in a coat.”

We entered the shop and she bristled at the sight of the displays. She pulled out her pad and checked the itinerary against the name of the shop. “I thought this was a knock-off or a junior’s version. This is upscale even for boarding school brats. Uh, no offense.”

A tailor was already at my elbow by the time Maevik finished her statement. “No offense taken, ma’am. We strive for excellence at Silverton’s Regal.” The tailor had an old-world air to him and a posture that was almost out of an anachronistic holo. “That said, sir, we will need to see some proof of payment before we proceed. Everything you see is a sample of something custom. Our clothing is made-to-order.”

I walked with the tailor to the counter. He accessed his pad and I gave him the name of my student account. He opened it and nodded with approval. “Very good, sir. I’m afraid it is best if the lady stays in the front area while we get your measurements.”

I looked at Maevik and she rolled her eyes. “I’ll be enjoying the view outside.” She left the shop and stood outside to the left of the door.

The tailor led me through the displays and into a backroom, which featured a raised platform surrounded by mirrors. “Please, sir, remove your shoes and stand comfortably with your arms out.”

I did as instructed and began listing my requests as he worked. “I’m looking for a classic look. Neutral to stark black, depending on your swatches. I want it to be to my ankle with a high collar that would go above my ear when raised. It needs to have four internal pockets, two at chest level and two below the hip.”

The tailor recorded his measurements. “That sounds . . . ill-fitting, sir.”

I had calculated the dimensions of the coat from observations of the man and applied them to how it would hang on me. “I am buying this coat for after graduation. Your materials and workmanship have lifelong guarantees. I figured it was fine to look a little dwarfed for a year or two rather than waste your time building a coat I will grow out of in only a few years.”

The tailor nodded in approval. “A proper lad. Never waste money now by thinking only short term. We will be happy to craft you a coat for a lifetime. I will draw up a design at once. Take a look at the swatches we have here, and I will be right back.”

He presented me with a pad embossed with the Silverton’s Regal logo then left the small measuring room and entered what was likely a studio. I quickly flipped through the swatches and located the one I recognized from the man with the headset’s coat. I then left the swatch menu and scrolled to customer histories, checking against orders that used the same color. From there, I was presented with a list of only three names, two of which had the proper dimensions of the length and collar. Neither had the pockets.

I scrolled back to the swatch screen as the tailor reentered. He took the pad from me and confirmed my choice. Then he hit a few more buttons and presented me with the finalized image. “Is this to your liking, sir?”

I considered the picture for a moment. It was nearly identical to the coat worn by the man. “I think no on the collar. Half that and make it double-breasted. You never know when you might want to dress to the other side.”

The tailor smiled this time. “Taste and a touch of wit. I do hope I will see you again, sir. I will have this ready in ten days. Would you prefer delivery, or will you pick it up?”

I spotted the test and waved away the offer. “I will come in again for last-minute alterations. Nobody should buy a custom garment and not have it adjusted at final purchase.”

* * *

I left the Silverton’s Regal shop and Maevik was already ahead of me by the second step.

She turned and walked backward, still expertly dodging through the crowd while questioning me. “Care to explain that decision?”

“Graduation present,” I told her. “Need something to look good for post-secondary admissions interviews.” It was a good reason and plausible. I didn’t feel like it was a lie, just maybe missing some more immediate pieces of relevant information. “Two more stores and then we can visit Klemtite Essentials.”

Maevik spun on one foot until she was facing forward. Even so, I noticed a bit of apprehension. She clearly had a connection to Klemtite somewhere in her past.

The next store was close by. Upscale shops tended to be near each other to share the overlap of rich impulse shoppers. We entered the Daft Haberdasher and I cringed at the reference. Refined taste didn’t necessarily mean good taste.

We were greeted on entry by a pair of women. One was older, with gray hair and that puffy and loose skin of the oldest workers. The other was about Maevik’s age and sporting brightly dyed, close-cropped hair.

“Welcome, seekers,” said the older one.

“What can we wrap around your head?” said the younger.

“I’m looking for a hat. Black in a bowler style but with a brim that turns down at the ears. Only a little. I want it to look almost flat but provide a bit of wind shielding.”

The two women looked at each other. “Rather specific, young man,” said the younger one.

“Seems like something you’ve seen before,” said the older.

“Yes. It was something I saw in the past. It was worn by a man of means and distinction. I thought it might be fitting.” Again, not technically a lie, just some careful wording that allowed wrong interpretations. Even so, I blushed a little as I said it.

Again, the women glanced at each other. “We do custom work here,” said the older one.

“But we do have images of things we’ve produced before,” said the younger.

They showed me a pad with a list of images, and I scrolled through until I spotted the hat the man was wearing. I needed more information than one image. “Cams, do you want a hat? On me.”

The two women looked to Maevik, who swatted them back abruptly. “No. It is inappropriate for me to take gifts and I’m not into . . . this.”

“Oh, c’mon. Let them get a measurement of your head, for future reference.” While she overreacted and drew attention, I accessed the purchasing files from the shop’s pad and found a list of names. Only one was familiar: Remington Kupfer.

I closed out the pad. “I’m sorry, ladies. I’ve thought about it and I’m not sure I want a hat at this time. I’m picking up a coat in a week. I’ll consider and stop back then.”

Maevik hastily retreated from the shop and I followed her out.

“That was too much, Alphonse. I’m not here to be bribed and used as a shield. I don’t know what you were doing in there, but I’m calling your day out over. Now let’s get back to the transport.”

I watched her sink into herself as we walked back. Several times, she made her nervous twitches with her shoes, and she also rubbed her arm a few times, the one she used to give her awkward wave/salute.

I didn’t know what had happened to her, but it clearly involved Klemtite Essentials and the imperfect replacement of several of her extremities.

10

I waited until the next rest day to pursue the next part of my plan. After Maevik’s retreat, I was unable to study the logistics at Klemtite Essentials and how their security windows could be subverted. Searching through the network only produced their boilerplate on how the windows worked. I could make some guesses as to how they could be defeated, but they would be poor at best. Their policy for repairs and replacement listed “prompt,” which again gave no specific timeframe.

I did have a name and a location, so I got up early and left campus through the hole Vance had shown me before.

Invisible bows proved an upsetting challenge to untie and tie again.

It was a quiet morning. I saw only a few service people and exercisers out on my walk back to the building I had seen the man enter in Cascade Gardens. Cascade Gardens was a middle-class residential park. It was meant to house graduates and young couples starting out in life and working toward moving into larger homes or off-world careers.

Such a place would have frequent moves in and out and make a good place for shady people to operate. Their comings and goings would not be watched like a tight-knit community or overbearing monitored neighborhood. It also offered a host of amenities meant to socialize the residents and make up for the lack of privacy and overpriced rent.

I took a seat at a table in the common area. There were a few trees, and the grass was in good enough condition. I laid out a drink and a small breakfast I’d picked up on the way, then I pulled out my pad and proceeded to feign working on a paper while I waited. The long dawn had some advantages for a person like me. I was more easily tired and confused from the shift, but I could rise quickly in a world where people were used to a slower and more thorough pace.

At times I was tempted to pay attention to the pad, to ease the tedium of waiting by doing something to pass the time. This risked missing crucial information, so I took to creating a pattern of gestures that could be seen from the outside as natural. I feigned typing for a minute, moving each finger in rhythm to beat out an incomplete sentence. Then I scrolled up and down a non-existent page. Finally, I put the pad down and took a sip or a bite of food.

Each pass through the pattern, I changed the order and doubled up on some. Once the food and drink were exhausted, I took to acting like I was playing a game for a few minutes between other steps. Acting like I was playing started to take more concentration than it was worth, so I pulled up a spatial puzzle and idly solved sections between.

Distracted was distracted, but bored was bored. Mental stimulation when watching carefully was important. If I found myself doing more of this in the future, I would load up music on my pad ahead of time. Something that could be engrossing or ignored at will without moving or adjusting.

Four hours passed with nobody leaving the building the man had entered. Some entrances and exits occurred in the three other buildings that lined the courtyard. There were no above-ground connections between the buildings, so I assumed these were not important.

The door to the building opened at four hours and twelve minutes. A little girl in a blue coat and black leggings came out. Her hair was a mousy brown and she wore a headband that matched her coat. Her parents came out close behind her. Father was a blonde man near thirty. He also wore a blue coat and casual clothing. Mother emerged with him in active wear and holding a bag. She was younger and had darker hair.

The little girl pointed toward me, and the mother waved in my direction. The man grabbed the girl’s hand and ferried her to the entrance of the parking garage. A minute passed and the door opened again. It was Remington Kupfer. He wore the same coat and hat but no headset. He stood at the edge of the stoop and looked out in my direction. I poked at my pad as if playing a game.

A woman exited next. She was striking in contrast to the nondescript Remington in his coat and hat. She had bright red hair—not so bright to be obviously unnatural but not so light as to be obviously natural either. She had on a long, thin white coat with thick black boots. Her eyes were a faint crystal blue, which merged with her sclera in such a way that it made her eyes appear huge at this distance. She appeared neat and refined, nothing out of place. Her nose was particularly small but strong. She wore a silver necklace with a small but noticeable diamond.

She walked to the bottom of the stoop and the man followed behind her. They headed across the courtyard and stopped behind me, then I heard a door open.

I gathered my now empty food and drink containers and tossed them in the trash, then sat at the table in the opposite direction. Moving my vantage point was risky but listening alone would limit my information gathering.

A second man had joined the pair. He was decidedly more heavy-set than Remington—both taller and more muscular. Despite his imposing physique, he had kind, almost sad eyes and was smiling broadly and easily. He gave no sense of awareness to his presence, broadly gesturing and standing at a slight tilt. He reminded me a bit of Vance in his command of lazy posture.

The three were conversing in low tones. I could make out just enough words to know what they were doing. The large man’s gestures were emphatic but non-specific. The woman was close and sparing with her gestures while standing with her back to me. Remington was the most alert to outside presences and made no gestures, his arms at his side. He followed the conversation with his eyes only, glancing slightly from one speaker to the next and only offering a few words in between.

“What am I doing next?” asked the large man.

“Remi has the package,” the woman replied. “So it is up to you to get it to the storage unit. The delays have been resolved. Everything from here on works like we planned.”

“I don’t like changes,” said the heavier man.

“It’s not a problem, Winston. Better to move things in stages. More time for other trails to cool.” She gestured to Remi. “Let’s get it done.”

“Here?” Remi asked. “Shouldn’t we—”

She cut him off. “We’re three neighbors chatting. Just hand him the box and stop making it awkward.”

Remi slid a hand into his coat and produced a box. It was easier to make out in the light of day but still impossible to determine what it was and its importance. I was sure it was the same object he had taken from the house behind the theater.

I stood up and walked toward them.

Winston took the box and slid it into his left pocket. “No more delays, then?”

The woman spread her hands wide. “No more problems. Everything works as before.”

Remi saw me approaching and turned slightly, his right hand sliding into an outside pocket. “E, there’s a kid needs to get by.”

The woman turned to spot me and took a step to clear a path. Winston also adjusted his position to give me passage into the building.

I stopped at the periphery. “Hello. I’ve been waiting for you. My name is Alphonse Malloy. I’m a student and I’m interested in what you’re doing.”

The woman raised a hand in warning at Remi. Winston stayed relaxed against the side of the door up on the stoop. “We’re having a conversation, Alphonse.”

I pointed at Remi. “That man, Remington Kupfer, took that box out of a residence behind the holo theater two days ago. He used some sophisticated tech and a prearranged gap in the security to do it. I followed him to this location. It took me a while to figure out his name and to confirm he rented here. I had to be sure this wasn’t the drop-off point.”

The woman laughed. “Oh, Remi, all that time and preparation, all the money sunk into accessing the house and leaving no trace and you let a child see you lift it? It would be funny if it happened to anyone, but knowing it happened to you is even better.”

Remi remained expressionless but adjusted his stance to more fully face me.

The woman focused her full attention on me as well. “What else did you find out about us, sweetie?”

I smiled. “Your operation isn’t about money. Or not just about money. There is a power leverage element. You also needed to arrange the repair of the Klemtite Essentials security system. I see that Winston has a jumpsuit on under his coat. He works for Klemtite, at least part time. You couldn’t have stolen the uniform. It fits him too well and is too faded. A new uniform would be crisp and a stolen one wouldn’t fit his large frame.”

The woman’s mouth slowly curved into a smile. “And Remi?”

“I noticed that his coat was well made and fit too well to be off-the-rack. I made some guesses based on the proximity of this building to the shopping center in downtown. I then tracked down people who purchased coats like his and cross-referenced it with people shopping at the nearby haberdasher.”

She put her hand to her mouth to contain her laughter. “So, what do you want, then?”

It came down to that question. Since I had started on this investigation, the excitement I had felt had been building, but I didn’t know why I was pursuing it, other than that it was fun. Was that all it was? Fun? No, there had to be more of a reason to it. I wasn’t so childish as to pursue such a dangerous course simply for the joy of it.  “I want to do a job. I want to face challenges and overcome obstacles to complete a task,” I finally told her, and it was true, as much as any answer.

She could no longer contain her laughter and gave herself the satisfaction of a trill. “Why would I hire a school boy to do the work of a trained professional? Especially a child from a boarding school for feckless elites and upstart money hoarders?”

I felt my arm tense. How did she know what school I came from? I wore nothing of my uniform and had chosen my outfit to be one that would blend to this apartment’s residents. I needed to direct the conversation.

I spoke quickly, establishing everything I could as fast as possible. “I’ve already found Remi’s full name. I also know for whom he works. You trust him, but he is only an employee. He’s holding a gun in his pocket. Small caliber with high-impact rounds. Polyfiber grip. It holds eight in the magazine and he has one chambered, because that’s the better option. Default safety removed, but he has trigger discipline. He’s ready to fire but knows it will draw attention, so it is a last resort.” I took a single breath. “Winston is your brother. You have a similarity in your eye and nose structures. There’s also something to the way he defers to you. You are the younger sister by at least two years. The hair color is natural but accented. The touch of rose in his eyebrows reveals the shared gene that overtook your hair.”

The woman stared at me for a moment. Winston laughed, but it was obvious he didn’t understand half of what I’d told them. For a moment, Remi cracked a brief smile but quickly regained his composure. I had impressed him, I knew, though it was clear to me now that I’d missed at least one detail on the gun.

“The delays in the process explain themselves,” I continued. “The delay to set up the untraceable theft caused a timeline shift. This would have spooked your buyer, who you are now in a rush to impress and get back to proper standing with. This job was important, I think, and so you’ve agreed to do another to make up for the delay. It’s small, but you need it done immediately to restore credibility. You feel short-handed to do it without undue risk.”

The woman dropped her hands and Remi pulled his back out of his pocket. She reached into her own pocket and produced a cigarette, holding it while she stared at me for a long moment. Finally, she lit it and took a long drag, then exhaled.

She repeated this two more times. The smoke was stale, as if she had not exhausted her supply in some time.

She stubbed out the butt and tossed it to Winston. The large man caught it and put it in a can next to the door. “Alright, Alphonse. I’ll take you up on the offer. One job. You work out and we’ll see. You betray us and . . .” She gestured to Winston.

He walked down the stoop and made a show of placing his hand on my shoulder. His hand was nearly a third bigger than my head was wide.

“Winston will smother you. Or cave your face in. It really depends on how he feels in the moment.”

I nodded to the large man and again at the woman. “I have no interest in betrayal.” I warmed to the thought of doing the job, working out information toward a goal. “I’m excited to get started on a problem without a simple solution. I . . . I’m bored of simple.”

The woman smiled again and offered a hand. “The name is Evelyn Rose. Come inside Winston’s place and we’ll get you up to speed.” Her eyes drifted over me. “What we do can be described in many ways, sweetie, but none of them are simple.”

11

Three days later, I paced in my room, unable to rest. The job would go down tonight, and I worked through each step in my head again. The arrival, the distribution of labor, the list of security devices, their potential placements, and how to deal with each.

The groundwork had been done. Evelyn supplied schematics for the building and a list of upgrades and changes. Winston had procured all the necessary tools to defeat the devices from Klemtite.

I marveled again at the simplicity of it. Access to high-end security technology meant needing to be able to test, disable, and repair that technology. What was infiltration if not the inverse of security?

Remi supplied the skills and grit to accomplish a job and had the training to improvise and extricate if needed. Extricate. That was his word. One of the few I had heard him say more than twice. He seemed to like the sound of it. It had a utility that I appreciated.

The target had not been given to me. Remi knew what he was looking for and I knew where it, whatever it was, would be. I understood that this job was a test run for me, but it worried me that I didn’t have all the information. I felt that anything I didn’t know could potentially ruin every other aspect of the plan.

I checked the time and saw I still had three hours until I had to be in position. So I started back from the top and walked through it all again.

* * *

I stood in the dark at the edge of a block of office buildings north of Quintell. The city wasn’t laid out with the academy as a hub, but it was hard not to orient everything from the one place I truly knew.

The business district spread north of the downtown area, where more recreation and commerce occurred. The offices were flanked by restaurants and different shops offering oasis and refuge from the stress of big business. The industrial areas were all west and the residential mostly to the east. Of course, the city was a megalopolis with the outskirts forming into the next city and so on. My world was the one that existed within walking distance of the academy. If future jobs were further out, I would need assistance traveling. I didn’t like the thought of being left out because of such a difficulty.

I watched as Winston pulled up to the building adjacent our target in his work transport. Officially, he was here for routine maintenance of the systems. A Union guard nodded to him and guided him into the building. The transport, full of useful tools, remained on the street, ready for our purposes.

I walked to the edge of the street and watched as Remi came from the opposite direction. We met at the side of the van opposite of the building that Winston had just entered.

Evelyn showed up last. She came out of a restaurant across the street and smoked in front of the van, still visible to anyone looking from the restaurant while we were out of sight in the shadows.

“Everything ready?” she said. Rhetorical. She didn’t wait for a response. “This is an easy job. Just in and out. You have an hour. Stick to the plan.”

Remi shoved a bag of tools into me and put on a harness of tools himself, his usual coat and hat left behind for this job. “I’ll get it done. No different than before.” He looked at me. “I do the job, you watch. Any trouble and you’re on your own.”

Evelyn stomped out her cigarette. “No worries, kid. We’re the best.” She returned to the restaurant. I could see her through the window seated with a couple of high-powered financial types. She was laughing and sharing drinks with the men.

Remi tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the target building. The operation was beginning, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. It wasn’t excitement or illness, but it felt like something between the two. I think I was nervous. I hadn’t ever gone into a situation where I didn’t know how it would end up. Even the meeting with Mr. Black had been going through the motions. I knew that nothing I did in that office would change anything. But this? Everything I did for the next hour mattered to the success of the job.

I loved the feeling.

We entered the building that Winston was in the process of servicing. While he walked the guard through the procedures that would need to take place and the time frame, we entered the stairwell. It took some time to travel through the thirty-four stories of the building using the stairs. Remi took them two by two without missing a step. His endurance was not surprising nor was his impatience with me as I lumbered from flight to flight with what I realized was the bulk of the gear.

We arrived at last on the roof.

Remi spoke to me as he readied the climbing gear from the bag. “I told you these jumpsuits were useless. We go up one building and nobody looks our way. We plan a distraction and take control of the feeds. There is nothing to see.”

His tone was gruff, but I got the feeling he enjoyed talking about the work. It wasn’t too different from any of the teachers I’d encountered that enjoyed their jobs.

He fired a grapple line across to the roof of the target building. A few knots later and he was ready to go. He attached the gear bag first and sent it along the way. It slid across the secured cable through the night sky. He checked my harness and attached the lead. “Just don’t squirm, and if you can’t get it off, wait for me to get over there.”

I nodded and held on to the lead. I took a step up and the next had me sailing through the air. It was an amazing moment. The feeling in my stomach grew, but I also couldn’t help but smile. Despite myself, I found that I had to bite my lip not to shout in excitement.

I arrived at the opposite rooftop and released the lead easily, then I grabbed the gear bag and detached that as well. By the time I had the bag off the line and in-hand, Remi had arrived.

He gripped my shoulder and nodded. “Good start. Now stay close and hand me what I need when I need it. We’re on a tight timer and I don’t need you to slow us down.”

Remi moved to a post at the edge of the roof. It wasn’t unlike a traffic bollard. “Jigkey.”

I opened the smallest of the gear bag’s three compartments and handed him the oblong rectangle. He pressed it to the side of the post and moved it down slowly until he heard a click. Then he moved it laterally across until there was a second click. He pressed a button on the housing and twisted the device.

“Got the looper ready?” Remi asked.

I didn’t. “One moment.” I reached into the bag’s second compartment and found the designated data pad and handed it to Remi.

He snatched it from me with a frown. “Anticipate what I need. You know what we’re going to encounter, so act like it.” He pulled on the jigkey to open a data port in the post, then attached the looper pad and activated it. It would record ten minutes of camera footage throughout our designated paths and then replay them until we disconnected it.

With the recorders dealt with, we approached the roof access door. Remi checked the latch and jamb, then nodded. “Circuit extender,” he said.

I handed him a cord with a self-adhesive patch on its side. He slid the patches into the door jamb with a small blade, placing one on the upper edge of the doorframe and the other at the junction of the latch.

“Clicker,” he muttered, snapping his fingers and holding his hand out impatiently.

I looked through the bag and was annoyed that I couldn’t find the device. It was essential for getting through the maglocked doors by sending randomized impulses into the mechanism. It was basically a skeleton key made of magnetic fields. “It’s not in the bag. I know it was packed and accounted for in Winston’s inventory.”

I looked back to Remi to see he had already cracked the lock and slipped through the door. He smirked at me. “Coming?”

I ducked under the circuit extender, which fooled the system into thinking that the door was still closed. Once inside, I placed down a wooden block and Remi let the door rest open on it.

We started down the stairs. Our target was on the twenty-eighth floor, so the trek would be less exhausting than the one I had already endured. Even so, the gear bag felt twice as heavy now as when I first hefted it.

Remi chided me as we made our way down. “Yeah, I tricked you, I had the clicker in my tool belt. I also have the multitool and the cutters. No reason there shouldn’t be extras in the bag.”

“Winston prepped the bag,” I said.

He scoffed. “One, always double check anything Winston does. He’s solid and trustworthy, but he’s an idiot with details. Two, he’s also not here. Never let a man on the outside pack your gear. They aren’t the ones with their necks on the line when something goes missing, and they sure as hell aren’t around when you can’t find what you’re looking for.” He motioned to the bag. “Case in point.”

I was surprised by his insight. “Right. I apologize.”

He waved a hand at me. “S’okay, kid. You’ll learn.”

We arrived at the twenty-eighth floor. The process from the roof repeated. I handed Remi the circuit extender and he attached it. This time, I was able to observe as he worked the clicker at the lock. It wasn’t exciting to see, really. All the work occurred on the magnetic spectrum. The clicker displayed a wave form and Remi manipulated dials until it pinged green and the door released. It looked almost exactly like a lockpicking mini-game.

We slipped through the door the same as before with one exception. After placing the wooden block at the bottom of the frame I also placed one at the top of the door, wedging it into the top of the jamb.

Remi watched me with interest. “You read that somewhere?”

“Exterior door should only need one. Interior might be stumbled on by security or a late-night office worker. It will take them time to remove the top jamb block. That buys us time to get out without needing to open the door again.”

Remi sighed. “You forgot the part where they should be alarmed by the circuit extender. All you really did was waste time and supplies. Now let’s move.”

The churning in my stomach flipped up a notch. I was blowing it. I was trying to think so far ahead of the problems we could encounter, I didn’t think about more obvious issues.

We made our way along the wall to the south. The room was mostly filled with cubicles, which we passed without much interest until I saw a blinking light out of place. I called out to Remi, “Halt!”

He looked at me and then in the direction I pointed. “Scrambler.”

I fetched the palm-sized scrambler and put it in his hand, then he motioned me to step back.

He moved west to the cubicles and pressed himself against the side. Then he slipped into the one adjacent to the blinking and pulled himself up and over the thin material of the cubicle wall. Once he was in the correct cubicle, he pressed the scrambler to the data pad inside. The light went out.

He came back to me and handed me the scrambler. “Now, tell me what I did wrong there.”

I ran the last moments through my head. “You snuck up on a device that you intended to destroy. There was no reason to hide from it. It might not have even been recording, but if it was, you would have destroyed it.”

He smiled again. “No. My mistake was not just turning the damn thing off. If the pad was broadcasting live, the owner now knows something happened. Turning it off is just an interruption in feed. Don’t destroy when you can disable.”

We continued along the wall to a corner office. From there, we headed west. I saw a conference room and a break room. Nothing alerted me to any other danger. We entered the office at the far side with another set of circuit extenders and blocks.

That put us in the outer office and two rooms away from the target. Next, we needed to access the inner office. This required special permissions to open and couldn’t be fooled by a clicker. There was no maglock to fool. The inner office was secured by a pneumatic seal.

Remi sat at the desk in the outer office and turned on the data pad, careful to angle its cameras away from us. An easy-to-guess password later and we had the administrative assistant’s access. From there, we just opened the door. “Sometimes you gain access by going through the front door, right?”

I nodded. It really was easy to overthink some things.

We entered the inner office and Remi used the multitool on his belt to open a panel behind a biometric touch pad. One snipped wire and the door to the vault opened.

We entered the vault attached to the office. Small safes were built into three of the walls, and four display cases took up the far end of the room.

Remi pointed to the one on the north wall. “That’s our target.”

A gun was mounted prominently inside the case. It was old, practically ancient, in good condition but clearly from another time. It was gunmetal gray, a color I realized was named after objects just like this. It had a peculiar set of notches along the grip, and the barrel also had something etched on it. The significance of these markings was lost on me. Something else to learn later.

Remi worked the multitool and had the case dismantled in moments. The lock on it was still intact on the now removed frame.

He reached for the gun and I grabbed his wrist. “Look there.” I indicated a set of small metal nubs in a ring around the gun.

Remi nodded. “Good eye. Aftermarket additions. Smart woman knew to keep this off the record.” He observed the sensors for a moment. “Give me the pulser and shield your eyes. “

I handed him the device and turned to face the vault entrance. I heard him click eye protection into place and then a sharp snapping noise followed.

“Alright. We got it.”

I turned back to see small plumes of ozone leaking from the now destroyed sensors. I handed him the case we brought. He opened it and I saw for the first time that it was built to house a gun.

Remi handed me the case and the pulser, and I placed them in the gear bag. He looked at the removed display housing and then put it back on. “Better they wonder than learn their case is a liability.”

We headed out, working cautiously but faster than our trip in. The blocks of wood were removed and the circuit extenders retrieved, and we made it easily to the stairwell.

Remi took the gear bag from me. “You’ve done enough. I’ll lug the heavy stuff from here. Don’t need you passing out on me.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t certain he didn’t just want to have the loot with him.

“You did all right, kid. But why did you get involved with this?”

I breathed heavily as the adrenaline faded from me and the flights of stairs kept coming. “It seemed interesting. I wanted a challenge, and this offered me one.”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, but wondered if there should be more. Like any question about the future, it gave me pause. Still, the feeling in my stomach made me realize how right the choice was. “Yes. This was what I was after.”

We hit the roof and I disconnected the looper while Remi dealt with the access door.

Again, he mounted the gear bag on the wire and activated the winch to pull it across. I went next and he followed last.

He kept talking as we headed down the long flights of stairs back to the Klemtite transport.

“There’s a huge market for this kind of thing out there. Collectors want them and the Union tries to snatch them up.”

I considered this information. I knew that the Union had far-reaching concerns, but I hadn’t realized that weapon smuggling was necessary with their military resources. “So individuals and groups both want these things? Any idea who this one will be going to?”

He chuckled, the first genuine sound I had heard out of the tight-lipped and composed operative. “Eccentric collectors, Union scientists. Lots of deep pockets that find value in the rare. I just want the pay. Doesn’t matter the credo behind the buyer, just that their currency spends.”

Remi spoke in a poetic tone when he discussed money. It made him almost verbose.

“This item here will get us square with the client and make a payday. That’s money in our hands,” he said.

I thought about his reasoning. “What do you need the money for?”

He pushed open the door and loaded the bag into the vehicle. “Kid, in this business, you don’t ask for real names and you don’t ask what the money’s for. Trust me. And we’re done here. Go back to your room. I have a feeling you’ll hear from E again.”

12

I waited four long boring days before making my way back to Cascade Gardens. Remi told me that was standard protocol after doing a job to make certain that if anything went wrong, not everyone would get caught in the cleanup. I supposed it would be harder to deal with for someone that was expecting payment or thought the others would abscond with the goods and leave them out of the cut.

For me, it was simply dull. Classes offered little interest and no challenge like those involved in planning or executing a heist. Even the thoughts of contingency plans if something did go wrong, if questions were asked of me, stopped being a distraction after the second day. I had run through all the scenarios and was satisfied I had a handle on the dire to the merely inconvenient.

Today was exciting for more than the obvious. Outside of hearing the results of the heist, I was getting my first glimpse into Evelyn’s apartment. The previous job had been planned exclusively in Winston’s place across the way. Remi and Evelyn both had apartments in the east building. The separation was as much about autonomy as secrecy, with none of the thieves being completely comfortable with each other. I had been in my own room since boarding school began. While I had seen the same people every day for years of classes and campus living, I had always been able to return to my own space at the end of a day.

I walked through the gates and into the park where I first met the crew. Evelyn was sitting with a hot drink and enjoying the cool air. Her gaze was into the sky and she sat placidly for some time. It was odd to see her like this; all my previous experiences saw her closely guarded. Here, she seemed almost . . . delicate? Vulnerable? Like there was something about life that didn’t apply to her in that moment.

I paused, uncertain if I should interrupt her tranquility. Whatever proximity she determined for her personal space had already been breached and she fixed me with a small grin. “Alphonse, lovely day, isn’t it? So perfectly clear.”

I understood that countersigns were sometimes necessary in work, but this struck me as conversational over code. “Not too cold but a notable lack of heat,” I hazarded.

She laughed, confirming my suspicion. “Not everything is meaningful. Sometimes we say what we mean because we mean what we say.”

I sat down next to her. “I think I do better with hidden meaning. Any meaning. Everyday banter seems to be about passing time, not communication.”

She laughed again. “Alphonse, if there is one thing that I hope you learn from our little interactions, it is a healthy respect for the importance of biding time and taking up space. Though, if I could glean meaning like you do, I might reconsider. Let’s head inside.”

I paused as she stood up. “I thought you might want to stay for a bit.”

She scooped up her cup. “I prefer my quiet moments to be done alone. Two isn’t silence, it is a conversation waiting to start, continue, or end.” She walked up to the stoop and waved an ID chip to the scanner. There was a beep and the door opened. She paused in the doorway and waved me in.

* * *

Evelyn led me to her apartment on the third floor. “If you’re wondering, Remi’s place is at the end of the hall. Easy access to the stairs and the roof. He’s always been ready to leave, considers it a virtue.”

She opened the door and invited me inside her one-bedroom apartment with a joint kitchen and living area. The door to the bedroom was closed. The kitchen was a cherry red color and the living area was done in creams and soft whites. There was an opulence to the décor that was further set off by the opalescent lighting.

Evelyn watched me inspecting the place. She gestured to a seat. “Please sit down and take it in. No reason to stand like an idiot. Can I get you anything?” She didn’t wait for an answer before walking into the kitchen.

The kitchen was separated from the living area by an island and a low shelf, which created a small window into the area. Glassware hung from hooks in the intervening space, so that all I could really make out from movement in the kitchen was distorted shapes and morphing colors. For being an open space attached to the other room, it was surprisingly separate visually.

The place was above reproach in the cleanliness category. Not a speck of dust floated in the air. Nothing was smudged or darkened with use. The furnishings were functional but not particularly comfortable, and the seat I sat in felt stiff and ill-used. The material appeared expensive but lacked that broken-in quality. The place seemed almost clinical, if the clinic catered to an upscale clientele.

The floors were dark and looked to be either natural wood or a good re-creation. The lighting was automatic, brightening and dimming as Evelyn made her way back from the kitchen. She carried a silver- and gold-trimmed tray with a few cakes and cookies on it. She set it down and went back to the kitchen again, returning immediately with a second tray containing cups and a kettle of hot liquid.

I had brought a drink with me, almost more as a prop than a necessity. I looked at it and noticed how inferior the plastic cup seemed in the surroundings.

Evelyn sat across from me in a wing-backed chair. Modern materials but in an antique style. It gave her a commanding presence, almost like royalty.

She poured herself a cup of the liquid and one for me.

“I like to live, Alphonse. Unlike my brother, bless his simple needs, or Remi and his one-foot-out-the-door approach. A person’s home is a sanctum. A place they can feel closed to the world and open to themselves.”

I nodded, but I didn’t understand the sentiment. I had lived in a small room at home and a series of blank spaces since. I didn’t infuse my personality into my surroundings any more than I did my clothing.

Evelyn sipped her beverage and held the cup carefully in her hands without resting it on her in her lap. “Tell me, Alphonse. What do you see in me through my apartment?”

“I see that you don’t live here. You spent a fair amount to upgrade the place from the stock model. The floors in particular must have been both costly and taken some effort convincing the building owner to allow it. From what I’ve seen of Winston’s apartments, the layout is identical. Or was. You added the kitchen island and the shelving. The lack of wear indicates you spend almost no time in this room. The lock on your bedroom indicates that you find whatever is inside to be more worth protecting than out here.”

She gave me an appraising look and sipped at her beverage. I hazarded a sniff and was hit by the strength of it. Some kind of herbal tea with a liqueur infused in it. I sipped it and was surprised it mostly tasted like sable berry. I continued, “The services you just put down also show little use but a high price tag. You have gilded your cage, but you aren’t certain you want to live in it. Is it a reflection of a want? You wouldn’t bring clients here. It is bad business to reveal so much or to be so vulnerable.”

She took another sip and then set the cup down on the silver service. “It is a want. A place that I more imagine myself in than believe in. I am far too busy planning to spend any real time here. You’re so good at the little things, aren’t you, Alphonse? You see through people and their actions. Nothing escapes that quick mind. “

I caught myself looking at my shoes. “I’m just explaining what I know. You asked the questions.”

She smiled. “I asked what you saw reflected. You didn’t ‘know’ any of that before a few minutes ago when you walked in. These are not hunches. You are keenly determining what pieces of information to accept and which ones to reject. It is uncanny how well that ability serves to cut through the illusions people have set forth.”

I tried to sip more of the herbal tea, but the first sip left me feeling flush. “I don’t know. I just see how people work. I thought it was obvious. I just assumed I was doing a bad job of hiding things. Doesn’t everyone notice details? Don’t they just choose to say nothing?”

Evelyn leaned forward in her wing-back chair and took a cookie between her ruby-colored fingernails. “It’s like the sensor array you saw on the last job. That wasn’t something Remi was commenting on. It was something he missed. And I’ve known him a long time. He is meticulous. Still, that is twice now that you have outdone him. I wouldn’t be surprised if that didn’t breed some animosity, yes?” She concluded her statement with a crisp bite of cookie. The few crumbs that fell, she caught in her other hand and brushed back onto the tray.

I put down the herbal tea and took a cookie of my own. “I’ve noticed people don’t like my observations. They seem angry or afraid when I state the obvious.”

She sat back in the chair again, the high back casting shadows over her delicate face. “You scare them because you see through them. You take apart the artifice of their armor and leave them exposed. For civilians, that is quite uncomfortable. For operatives and thieves, it is you making their worst apprehensions come to light. We live in clouds of deceit that are supposed to protect us. Nothing seems to protect them, or us, from you, Alphonse.”

I felt even more flushed. The tea didn’t agree with me or Evelyn’s words. Either way, I was feeling poorly.

She seemed to notice my discomfort. “You have value, Alphonse. I’m not meaning to make you feel badly. Even though you have so much natural talent, you still have much to learn about people and the world. Remi tells me you like the excitement of exploring options, of confronting challenges?”

Her crystal blue eyes twinkled as she spoke and there was a hungry quality to her demeanor. I ate a cookie and tried to settle down. “It was exciting. During the job, I was alert for what I hadn’t yet noticed, for things we didn’t think of in the original plan. There was a quality to it, not the unknown but of things yet to be found. If that makes sense.”

Evelyn poured herself another cup of tea. “It makes perfect sense. You need to unravel the knot, to solve the puzzle. A lot of people get frustrated by the unknown. They prefer the easy answers. We use that to our advantage in planning jobs and hiding in plain sight. Would you like to get better? To face bigger challenges?”

I took another sip of the tea and nodded. “It’s why I’m here.”

“Good. Good.” She got up and went to her coat, then she produced a pad from a pocket and sat down again. “We have another job lined up. Let me run the details past you, we’ll see what you come up with.”

I sat back with my cup and took a breath to focus. “All right.”

She fixed me with an easy smile and grabbed another cookie. Each time she reached out, I marveled at how light her fingers were. How precisely they gripped the treat, firm but without breaking it or causing it to shed crumbs as it moved through the air.

She spoke quickly then, reciting the details with a disdain as if they bored her. “A wealthy fellow divorced his wife. It was a messy affair with more than a few cross words and untold damage to reputations in the process. The wife moved out of the estate and left behind heirlooms linking her to old money from generations and worlds ago.”

Evelyn scowled a bit as she continued. “The husband, angry and petty like men of his means tend to be, sold these heirlooms for next to nothing out of spite. Fast forward a few weeks and the happy couple reconciles.” Her face flashed with even more disdain as she carefully ate her cookie. “The oldest of wealth rarely splits for long, so these things are to be expected. What isn’t expected was that the new owner of the heirlooms refused to sell them back.”

I nodded again in a way I realized I was doing to placate but not to understand. None of the described behavior seemed rational to me.

“Greed is a motivator, Alphonse. Never underestimate man’s desire for more,” she said, a slight curve forming on the tip of her upper lip. “Pride is also a factor, and often that pride will trump greed. It is the rock-paper-scissors of human motivation and desire. The new owner was so impressed with himself over his accomplishment that he refused to sell, even above the stated value. The pride he felt at besting his financial rival outweighed his desire for added wealth. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

She wiped her fingers off above the tray and set aside her tea, then turned the pad on. “So, we were hired to retrieve the items for half of what the new owner would have been paid for their return.” She gave another upturned smile. “Tell me what you see.”

She handed the pad over, and I browsed through the three pages. A floorplan of the estate, a blueprint of the surrounding utilities and access ways, and a list of vendors that supplied the estate with services and personnel. The last page was a breakdown of the plan so far with notes detailing additional insights. I handed the pad back.

Evelyn took it from me. “Trouble with the pad?” She looked concerned as she checked the screen.

“No,” I answered, simply. “I reviewed the information to my satisfaction.”

She didn’t react, only poured herself another cup of tea. “May I?” She gestured at my cup and I nodded.

As she filled the cup, I said, “Your plan won’t work.” I picked up my tea and took a sip.

She leaned back in the chair, letting the shadows strike across her face and build what I assumed was an intentional intimidating appearance. “Why do you say that?”

I put the tea down and pushed it slightly away from me. “Your plan counts on being able to disable the security with your usual Klemtite Essentials tools. However, the house was retrofitted with equipment from Dynamic Security Services, which also offers off-site monitoring. They’ll notice the interference and dispatch live countermeasures.”

“So, what do you suggest?”

I replayed the information in my head again. “DSS uses live countermeasures, but they still have monitoring systems. If you get someone inside the monitoring station to look the other way, through bribes or cutting them in on the take, that will delay interference. A well-placed guard can make all the difference, I would wager. Do this during the new owner’s wedding anniversary next week and you can use the confusion to your advantage. He won’t let his wife wear the jewels because they are a conquest more precious than she is, which will leave them isolated and an easy grab.”

Evelyn turned off the pad and tossed it to another chair. “You pulled that all from the information I showed you?”

I nodded.

“Very good, Alphonse. I must say, I am impressed,” she admitted. “And that is exactly how the job played out when I did it.”

I reran the dates in my mind, realizing that they must have been doctored. “You already did this assignment?”

“Yes, a bit of fiction for your benefit. We did this job six weeks ago. Remi got some silly girl to look the other way at the monitoring station and we had a thirty-minute window before supervisors looked in on the unanswered alarms. The owner blamed his wife and they had quite the row. Winston walked out with the goods in a gift bag. It wasn’t scanned on the way out because it would have been rude to suspect guests.”

I nodded. One detail struck me as needing a follow-up, but I couldn’t put it all together. “Why did you ask me to look at it if you didn’t need the help?”

Evelyn stood up and cleared the trays. “You wanted a puzzle and training. This let me provide you with both.”

She came back out to the room and grabbed her coat. “I have other plans for you from here.”

I stood up and met her at the door. “What’s the real job?”

She flashed her quirky touch of a smile. “Something so much grander, Alphonse. Something they’ll tell stories about.”

13

I saw Evelyn several days later. Again, she met me outside and led me up to her apartment.

I took a seat in the same place as before and Evelyn sat across from me on another couch. She placed a pad in front of me and turned it on. “No chatter or refreshments this time, Alphonse. We’re pressed for time. I need some details from you on this next puzzle and then I’m off to make some other preparations. We’re looking at a corporate apartment housing a young engineer. We need to get information off her pad about a project of interest to a client.”

I reviewed the information on the pad carefully. The first section was a floor plan for a corporate apartment, the next, a bio of the corporate engineer, Olivia Weng. The last was notes about the local accesses and utilities. Unlike the previous challenge, no additional notes from the crew were listed.

What struck me immediately was the layout of the apartment. It was roughly the same as the one we were sitting in. There was a bedroom and bathroom to one side and a central living area. The biggest difference was that the kitchen area was self-contained through a pair of doors. Most of the living space had cubicle-style baffles attached to create a type of office.

The personnel file on Weng expressed that she was a brilliant engineer and prodigy. She had moved through schools quickly and collected an impressive list of degrees before finishing her third decade. She was also an extreme introvert and agoraphobe. The apartment was the same one she had been living in since she had arrived on Meridian.

I turned the pad around to Evelyn and walked her through my thoughts. “This apartment has been heavily retrofitted. The separate kitchen doors and the office components were put in by the corporation she’s currently working for. This means that they need to keep contaminants from the kitchen from interfering with their network hardware.”

Evelyn nodded and jotted notes in the pad.

“The rest of the complex isn’t too different from this place, with lines of apartments on either side as well as above and below. She’s an agoraphobe, so living wedged in the middle of other apartments feels the most confined and therefore the safest. This makes infiltration difficult because all the routes in require going through a separate space.”

Evelyn took a few more notes and then faced me. “We could always rent one of the adjacent apartments. That would give us an easy route in.”

I shook my head. “No, the corporation either thought of that or lucked into full occupancy. All eight adjoining places show current leases. The route in is through the service lines.”

I took the pad and slid the input to the services page then traced along a particular route for the fire suppression. “This line is old, installed when the building was initially constructed, and then later removed.”

I flipped back to the floor plan. “See here, the corporation put in their own high-volume fire suppression. This means the old lines connect but don’t do anything. We can snake a line through and install cameras in all the previous fixtures.”

Evelyn gave me her little smile. “Ah. We don’t take the data out, we just record the homebody genius at work and get everything we need without lifting anything. No theft makes it easier to cover our tracks. Good work, Alphonse.”

I nodded. “This will allow us to avoid running into whatever security might have changed in the other apartments. From her file, Weng is highly detail-oriented. If we entered and duplicated information, she would notice the tiniest thing out of place. Her passwords will also likely be based on esoteric knowledge and difficult formulae that would restrict access.”

Evelyn closed out the pad. “Exactly. You’ve cracked it again.” She stood up and walked to the door. “As always, I have some other work to get to. I’m sorry this was such a short test. You enjoy your week and I’ll have something new for you soon.”

I walked to the door, disappointed that there wasn’t more to it. “Just let me know when the job is, and I’ll be ready.”

Evelyn kept the door closed. “Nothing you need to worry about. This is the last time I’ll have the legwork done for you. So be ready to gather your own backgrounds in the future. What kind of teacher would I be if I didn’t help you cover all the basics?”

She opened the door and nudged me out.

* * *

It would be six days before I heard from Evelyn again. In the interim, I went to class and studied up on the practices and overlapping market of the three big security firms operating out of Foldin City.

I had passing familiarity with Klemtite Essentials, though my physical tour of their operation had been cancelled. Their work revolved around physical security with biometrics and sensors as a specialty. The group was started in the last century as an alternative to dwindling support of Union-sponsored civil police forces. What started as a private police force became a go-to for corporate defense.

Their technology worked better and more cheaply than their competitors’, but the innovation dropped off as they found themselves creating both the sword and shield of the security arms race. Klemtite’s folly was trying so hard to stay ahead of its competitors, it became self-refuting.

Unable to compete in the technology sector, Dynamic Security Services rose up to offer human-backed security solutions. Their monitoring stations offered low-cost solutions to high-end problems. A computer and camera could be fooled into loops and erasure algorithms. A human was fallible, certainly, but had to be accessed to fail.

The downfall of DSS’s model was in their major marketing thrust: why pay top dollar for a computer program when you could pay pennies for a human. The underpaid humans quickly felt undervalued and loyalty to the company gave way to looking the other way for the right interests at the right time. My research into DSS started to uncover some interesting insights into why all security eventually failed. The corruption didn’t spread into the organization—it started at the top and broke the core below. It was clear that the pair of founders were open to the company becoming a Big Brother organization, spying on clients for the right price and influence.

The third player in the area was Chrysalis Motivations. The organization had a young pedigree and was known for its avarice and greed, which led them to radical ideologies and corner-cutting business practices. The company seemed to serve as a rebuttal to both Klemtite and DSS.

Their reaction to Klemtite was to dispense with any biometrics or electronics of any sort. They reinforced everything to require physical keys that couldn’t be accessed or picked without unwieldy physical objects. The objects in question also carried radioactive isotopes that had to decay at a specific rate to be recognized by a chromatograph within the lock. The prospect of carrying around radioactive keys meant security staff with heavy lockboxes and shortened life expectancy.

They also used nuanced algorithms and artificial intelligence to stochastically monitor all systems. Any interruptions to the power or timing caused alarms and dropped bulkheads, which needed isotope keys to access. Working in a Chrysalis facility was listed as a Type 3 work hazard. That said, their largest source of failure was employee theft—workers taking whatever they felt entitled to, limited only by their security access.

My research turned increasingly cynical as the sources followed became less reputable. Secrets about security companies were suspect and whispered in dead ends on any given network. I trusted only so much of anything I read and looked forward to eliminating false information as soon as I could.

I considered my next step in this process as I again walked into the park area of Cascade Gardens. Evelyn was smoking on the stoop of her apartment and waved me over. She stubbed out the cigarette and left the remains on the ground as she opened the door. I scooped up the butt and tossed it in a receptacle by the door just as I had seen Winston do several times over the past few weeks. Evelyn smoked only when she was thinking and never cleaned up the remnants.

She didn’t speak or acknowledge the behavior as we made our way into the elevator and up to her apartment. The routine of these meetings was becoming apparent as she offered no pleasantries or social interaction until the door was closed and we were in the apartment.

She tossed me her coat rather than hanging it on the rack by the door. “Get out my pad and sit down. I’ll be right back.”

She went into the kitchen and came back with a glass and a tall bottle of a clear alcohol. I had the pad in hand and was in my usual spot. She took the pad from me, accessed the information she needed, and handed it back.

I took a look at the presented data as I heard her open the bottle and pour a tall drink. By the time I looked up, she had already finished the glass and was pouring a second.

The décor of the apartment was also looking less kempt. Nothing so much out of place, but the furniture no longer looked pristine. There were strands of red hair in several places, and the door to the bedroom was ajar.

Evelyn glared at me, catching my gaze. “Alphonse. Focus. The pad. What do you see?”

She hadn’t asked me any specific questions or explained the purpose of the heist itself. All I had were specs on a lock. It was a prototype from Chrysalis Motivations, a type of master system that overrode the mechanisms. It was subtle, barely more than a line on a graph created by a gas chromatography readout.

“It’s a lock. Or a new mechanism within Chrysalis locks, to be precise. Do you need to know how to beat it or how to get one?”

She put down the glass and composed herself. There was relief in her voice. “So, you did some legwork. I was afraid for a moment that this would take days for you to answer.” She gave a nervous laugh and stood up. “I intentionally set my apartment in disarray to distract you. To make you feel pressured to find an answer quickly, and you are a step ahead. Good. Good.”

I watched her put away her coat and then shut her bedroom door. “I’ll tidy up the rest after we’re done here.” She sat in the wingback chair and gave me smile. “Now, my dear Alphonse, how do you suggest we get the locks this prototype system has been attached to?”

I turned off the pad and placed it on the table. Chrysalis information was difficult to access. The sketchy details presented in the data pad were, I suspected, partial guesses. The readout from the gas chromatography graph corresponded to nothing. I didn’t have the chemistry background to confirm it, but with nothing to compare it to, it was just a line.

“You won’t find the information in the network. If you found a physical copy not attached to a door inside a facility, I would suspect it was a fake.”

She leaned forward, reaching for the bottle and the empty glass. She held them in front of her but didn’t refill the glass. Her posture conveyed she was nearly daring me to force her to drink.

“Your best hope to find the real information is to find someone inside Chrysalis. Not someone on the design team or the security staff. These would both be trained to lie or mislead. You need someone with something to gain, someone that can be bought because they exist to be bought.”

She smiled and put the glass and bottle down again. “You’re describing a corporate headhunter. Someone employed to find talented individuals in a company and lure them from one company to another. Rather than break in and find the information, we just need to lure the information to us. Excellent work, Alphonse. I hope you are getting as much from this training as I promised.”

I stood up and approached the door. “Until next week, then?”

She stayed in the chair, her gaze switching between the pad and the bottle. She seemed to snap out of it for a moment and turned to me. “Yes, next week. I’ll have something even more difficult then. Keep up on your studies. You never know when you’ll be put on the spot.” She gave me her quirky corner smile, and for the first time since I’d seen her on the stoop, she seemed her usual self.

“I’ll do what I can.” I closed the door and headed back to Quintell.

* * *

I spent the next two days looking into more information on Chrysalis. Word in the network dead ends suggested they had a new type of lock in development. Something that was both more secure than their previous models and prevented the problems of their previous lockdowns. Something that coordinated the algorithms and the key isotopes.

The information I found made no sense. And it was also contradictory, with one source saying the key was improved and the next saying the algorithm was the subject of change. Conspiracies of alien technology and even mind-control implants wove their way through these discussions, casting a shadow of doubt over all of it.

One discussion mentioned a hunt for talented individuals with knowledge in both programming and radiometry. The dates were all over the place. Perhaps this was the example that Evelyn had used to create the puzzle?

Late on the second day, I found a message requesting another meeting. It came in too late for me to leave campus. The next day crawled by as I struggled to stay engaged in classes, wondering what Evelyn would have for me. Not just the puzzle itself, but what odd contrivance she would put around it in an attempt to increase the difficulty.

Vance caught me in the hallway after class. “Hey, Alpha, you got a moment to talk?”

I brushed past him on the way to my room. “Not right now. I have to get on a project. Catch me tomorrow?”

He slid into his usual slouch. “No problem, my man. Catch me when you can.”

I went to my room to change and rushed to the meeting.

* * *

Evelyn met me at the gate and walked me to the apartment, her nature jovial and a touch flirty. “Good to see you again, Alphonse. This will be a quick one. I would be very surprised if you could answer the puzzle just from what I will present.”

We entered the apartment and she sat me in the usual spot. This time she sat next to me on the sofa and showed me the pad. She held it and waited for me to instruct her to move through the information.

First was a floor plan for a fabrication plant. I observed the ingress and exits and the workflow passages of the business itself. “Next, please.”

She flipped to the second page, which was a list of technical specs for some type of container. There was a time stamp attached, giving a date for the day after tomorrow. “Any more?”

She shut off the pad. “No, that’s all you get.”

“The date was listed for two days from now. Is this real or another job you’ve already completed?”

She laughed at the question and faced me. The space between us on the sofa was small and her behavior was overly familiar.

“Is this part of your training regime?”

She smirked. “There will always be another challenge to face, Alphonse. Always a different set of conditions to distract. You’re a bright boy. I’m sure you see right through it.” She stood up. “So, let me know when you have an answer. Message me and I’ll send Winston over to the school to hear it from you. He’s due to complete an inspection on the grounds this week.”

I got up and walked to the door. “What is it that I’m doing? What do you need solved?”

She paused with her hand at the door. “Oh, silly me. How would you get that container out of the factory?”

I considered for a moment. “I’ll give you an answer soon.”

“Of that, dear Alphonse, I have no doubt.”

* * *

I worked on the issue for the rest of the evening and into the next day. The fabrication plant was a tight operation. They manufactured state-of-the-art containment vessels. Each was custom-made to exact specifications and the plans only existed until the job was done.

I suspected this was to prevent duplication, so it would be unfeasible to get a copy of the vessel. The only real solution was to get the one being made, which meant that the theft would be immediately noticeable.

I looked at the fabrication plant’s order and request procedures through the network. They offered final moment changes and adjustments to ensure the utmost quality. That was the key.

I walked around the grounds and found Winston talking to Mr. Kurns at the maintenance building, so I went up to the pair. “Hello, Mr. Kurns. Doing some security changes?”

He shook his head. “Just a routine look around, nothing serious. Anyway, we’re done here. Don’t get in the inspector’s way, Alphonse.”

Mr. Kurns went into the maintenance building and I walked behind Winston’s van. He followed after a moment. “E said you would tell me something?”

I looked around to see that no students were looking in our direction. None of them seemed the least bit interested in the security inspector and his van. “The update protocol is the key. Send a change of address within ten seconds of the completed fabrication and the factory won’t know anything has changed for days.”

Winston gave me a broad, toothy smile and slapped me in the arm with his almost comically large hand. “I’ll let E know you told me. She’ll want to talk to you again real soon.”

14

On the second day of Winston’s inspection, he passed me a message from Evelyn. It was simple but conveyed a sense of her personality.

Time for more outside training. Homework and legwork go together. Meet Remi uptown for a night out to remember. PS. Bring drinks and mittens. – E

The message was both instructional and a code. The references to drinks represented a bar in the uptown area. The mittens reference wasn’t about the name but what the bar offered. There was a sub-zero bar called McCool’s just off Park Street, which was a clever use of the postscript. The reference to time and the repetition of “out” meant two o’clock.

It was the night before rest day, so I was glad I wouldn’t have to pull double duty the next afternoon if it went long. I made my way through the streets and to the appointed building. I’d considered showing up early, but a time had been given for a reason, so I decided to wait until then and follow instructions.

At exactly two o’clock, the door at the side of the bar opened and Remi poked his head out. “Get in,” he told me.

I moved from the corner to the door quickly but fluidly, as Remi had instructed in our gun heist.

He nodded as I approached, reinforcing the earlier lesson. “No matter how fast or slow you move, if you do so consistently people will assume you have a reason to be there and won’t be suspicious,” he reiterated.

We stood in a stairwell linking the back end of the bar with a series of utility tunnels that dipped below the refrigeration systems.

He looked over my outfit and scowled. “Really? In matching coats?” he asked.

“It was the only thing I had that seemed appropriate for a night mission. I wasn’t given any specifics,” I said.

He sighed. “I would say it was a bad idea, but that is hypocritical. Reason I have the coat is it blends well with night work. Just don’t ever get yourself a matching hat.”

After walking up the stairs and into a position on a sub roof, we were below the bulk of the commercial building, which went up another fifteen stories but was still below the signage for McCool’s. Remi had two sets of field glasses set up just above the protraction of wall below the sign. From the street level, it would be almost impossible to make us out against the glare of the sign and the shadows of the sub-roof.

We took up position at the glasses. “You take the pad and jot down everything you notice about the people coming and going from the building across the way,” said Remi. “I know you like to rely on your memory, but we need the data. Observe, write. That’s your job. Got it?”

I took up the pad and glanced through the glasses. The building across the way was a simple four-story structure. There was door facing our direction and lights on across all four floors. Connected to the south side was a parking ramp that led underground. “What am I looking at?”

Remi chuckled. “Hard to know what something is that doesn’t give itself away, huh? No information means you have to know what you’re seeing to see it. That’s a shift change station for the Union forces in the area. Private security handles most of the policing and guard work for Foldin City but it’s still a Union colony on a Union world. That means they have to maintain a presence. They just keep it under wraps.”

“Do I count cars, or do you have a plan to get more information from them than I know about?”

“Glad you are already up to speed, kid. Hit that button on the field glasses and it will show infrared. That won’t give you a complete view, but it will let you count bodies. Any other questions?”

I surveyed our immediate area. Aside from the pad and the glasses, there was a plastic box. “What’s with that?” I asked, pointing to it.

“Drinks and snacks. We’re going to be up here for a while, so get comfortable and stay focused.”

I stretched and resumed my position at the glasses. “Is that until first light?”

“You’ll know when we’re done. Now test the infrared. Get used to the view and be prepared to swap back and forth quickly. If you have to adjust, you’ll lose valuable data.”

I checked the setting and worked it back and forth. It was difficult to make out anything from the changeover at first. The colors blended into each other and the brightness overall made swapping back to regular vision difficult in the dark. After a few adjustments, I concluded I was basically ready. “I’m set.”

We stood in silence for a few hours. I wrote down everything I saw from the people entering the building and the number of transports and passengers leaving. The comings and goings were sporadic. For an hour, nothing would happen, and then there would be a rush of arrivals for nearly twenty minutes. Then a pause and several transports would leave. No transports entered in the hours I watched, and nobody walked out of the door, only in.

It was strange, but I knew I lacked perspective to understand what was happening. I continued to watch and tried not to consider the implications until I had more to go on.

Remi observed as well, quietly taking his own notes. He would periodically inform me that he was “taking a lap” and I would be left alone to record.

When he returned, he said, “You don’t ask many questions.”

I kept watch through the glasses. “You explained what I was doing. If I need something more, I will let you know.”

“Not what I meant, kid. It isn’t a question, it’s an observation. There are people that ask questions constantly, people that don’t know what is happening and try to solve the problem by demanding to be told what’s what. Then there are the people that wait quietly, gathering information, and then announce what is happening. It isn’t always quite that simple, but those are the general groups. Too often, the people that ask questions don’t think enough. They are frightened by silence and being forced to do their own work. They want the real trials to be complete and to reap the rewards without effort. Those people can’t be trusted. You hear me, kid? Don’t trust someone that doesn’t do their own legwork.”

“That makes sense.”

“Now the other side,” he continued, “the ones that wait and watch and never question, they have their own problems. That means you, kid.”

There was a pause that sounded like he expected me to fill in something. “Alright,” I said after a long pause.

He chuckled. “Like that. You waited for more information, unwilling to offend to cut to the chase. You have the opposite problem: you don’t care enough about the outcome to try and influence it. That’s dangerous. You have to live life. Living is about exerting your wants onto the world and expecting it to fight back.”

“I don’t know what I want out of life.”

He sighed and then chuckled. I heard the cooler open and he tapped me on the arm, then I looked away from the glasses for a moment to accept the drink he offered. It was a thick liquid that tasted bitter. “What’s this?”

“Good question. Better question would have been to ask before you drank it. But if I wanted to poison you, I would have lied before same as after. This is a protein energy sludge. I make it myself. A bit of caffeine, some vitamins, some vegetable extracts. It will keep you alert for hours. Just sip it or you’ll get jittery.”

I heard the sound of paper opening and the cooler closing. “You mentioned on the roof that you were interested in the in-the-moment excitement of chance and possibility. Sounds to me like you don’t know what you want because you want something that doesn’t have a simple label.”

I considered the explanation but rejected it. That was more an excuse than a real answer. “Maybe,” I said.

Remi scoffed. “Maybe? Don’t kiss my ass, kid. If I’m wrong, say so. You keep placating and you’ll find yourself doing anything not to rock the boat. Same as the not asking questions, a passive life is a life not lived. Act or quit. Don’t just accept.”

It struck me that he wasn’t speaking to me, but at me and around me. “Do you believe that, or do you just want to?”

Another chuckle. “Here. Eat this if you get hungry.” He tossed a paper-wrapped sandwich onto the ledge next to me. “I’ll let you answer that question for me. I used to think a lot of things that I probably no longer believe. I had a kid once. A family. When you have people who depend on you, life changes. When you lose those people, it changes again. How you feel in each moment is a shade of its own truth, but a man’s mindset can change on a dime.”

I jotted down a few more entries. “Doesn’t that make the truth subjective?”

“I suppose it does,” he admitted. “You make the world you live in. I was a Renegade before I came here,” he finally told me. “I wanted to live free, the same as most who find their way to the Deadlands. That was all before I got myself trapped on this rock without a ship to call my own. Used to have one called the Serpent’s Bow, but she’s sitting on a moon in pieces far from here, probably salvaged by a crew of folks just like me. You asked me before why I needed the money. I mean to find myself a ship and resume my scoundrel ways.”

“You’re doing all of this so you can be a criminal again?” I asked.

He scoffed. “The fact that you only heard the Renegade part of that speaks volumes on the lack of education you received in that school,” he said. “Being a Renegade isn’t just about stealing and smuggling. It’s about freedom. Once you have it, you can’t imagine a life without, and you’ll do whatever it takes to get it back.”

* * *

I didn’t feel too tired. The conversation had been interesting. Remi didn’t come across as the sharing type. Maybe he just wanted to fill the silence. The home-brew drink of his might have contributed, but I couldn’t be certain there either. Most likely it was the puzzle, working out what I was seeing. Too much information and not enough significance spun me up.

I heard a sound and turned. The man walking up behind me was not Remi. He wore a nondescript uniform with no insignia, not unlike the types I had seen entering the Union building all night. He held a gun and was on his radio. “Some kid’s up here. I’ll bring him in.” He gestured with the gun. “Move slow, boy. You’re trespassing. I don’t know who put you up to this, but we’re going to go have a chat.”

This was unexpected, to say the least. “Easy,” I said, slowly lifting my hands.

I moved carefully, putting the data pad on the ground and stepping out of the glaring light of the sign. The man was wearing armor under his plain-colored jumpsuit. It hummed with power. Whatever his normal job was, arresting a kid seemed well below his usual role.

“I’m just watching people for school.” I tried to sound confused.

He sneered and tossed a pair of cuffs on the roof in front of me. “You’re not much of a liar. Put those on.”

I leaned down to collect the cuffs when I saw Remi come around the corner from his most recent patrol. Before I could react, he had his gun ready and aimed at the guard. His eyes narrowed as his finger bent around the trigger and squeezed.

A round tore into the man’s back, causing him to stagger forward, toppling, and I retreated.

He tried to turn but the bullet had shattered something inside his abdomen, and he could barely move.

Remi ran up and pointed the gun in his face.

“W-Wait a second,” the man begged.

Remi didn’t hesitate, and I watched the second bullet tear through the guard’s skull, scattering brains on the concrete beneath him, his eyes rolling as his mouth dropped.

My throat closed up as the blood hit me, spattering across my shirt. Remi looked up at me. “Grab the gear,” he said, no hesitation in his voice. “We’ve got to move.”

15

I floated through the first half of the next school week, lost in my own head.

Watching Remi kill a man had sent chills through me that I simply couldn’t shake. I had watched him take a life, and all I could do was stand there.

So much of what we had done was for a practical purpose—moving wealth from one rich corporate elite to another. It was a game with loose rules and no real consequences. The death of the guard and the implications of it were all so very sobering.

I also had an inkling that more was going on than I was being told. The job of watching the Union guard station made little sense. I hadn’t come to any specific conclusions (yet), but when we dropped off the data with Evelyn, she was quite pleased. She also ignored the comments about the dead guard, chalking it up as “an unfortunate part of the work.”

Vance and I ran on the track outside of the athletics building near the damaged fence. It was getting warm outside and we had taken to jogging after classes when I didn’t need to sneak off. This routine provided us with an excuse for being in the area if we were spotted entering or leaving through the fence.

“Hey, Alpha, get your head out of your ass,” said Vance. “You almost went right off the track and into the bushes.” He grinned broadly and turned around to jog backward, easily keeping pace with me as I struggled to remember to breathe and pace myself. His longer frame gave him an easy advantage for this sort of thing.

“A lot on my mind is all.” I tried to smile but was too winded to fake it.

Vance turned around again and matched my pace. “Let’s walk a lap or two. You need to get it together before you have me fetching Maevik or a doctor or something.”

I tried to laugh it off, but I was breathing harder with each pace. We slowed past a walk to an idle shuffle.

Vance slapped me on the back and sent me into a coughing fit. He laughed at that. “Seriously, Alpha, you gotta keep in shape or all this thinking you do is going to land you nowhere. No point in living if you aren’t living. Know what I mean?”

I watched the gangly Vance hop from foot to foot, energy exuding from his every action, and considered his words. So similar to those spoken by Remi but with such a different emphasis. For Vance, life was an adventure in which he did what he wanted because he could. For Remi, it was a challenge, proving he could defy power and get away with it. The same coin, but one side made of hope and the other anger.

I lay down on the grass outside of the track. I wasn’t catching my breath and seemed to be hyperventilating. I thought I was having a panic attack.

Vance watched me go down and laughed. “Calm down, my man. Breathe into your hands and stop thinking.”

I did as he suggested, breathing a few puffs into my hands and then a few into the air. It didn’t take long for my heart to stop racing and the world to stop spinning.

Vance loomed over me while I recovered, beaming that smile and slouching against the sky. I sat up and saw Gil and Manson heading across the track toward us. They looked nervous.

Manson stepped forward, his demeanor toward me cool, but no longer with the antagonizing quality of our first meeting. Gil stopped a pace behind, doing his best to use the wider kid as a kind of shield. Gil looked like he was about to scream or throw a punch, but he said nothing and didn’t look my way, just stared with frustration at Vance.

Vance sat down next to me and tilted his head to look up at the two. “What’s going on? Spill it.”

Manson rubbed his bare arm with his other hand. Between his posture and his behavior, whatever brought them here was bad news. Vance tried to remain calm, but I could see him digging into the grass with one hand even as he waved the other one around nonchalantly.

“We just heard them talking. The teachers to Headmaster Whiles. They say they got proof you’ve been swiping answer sheets and selling tests.”

“I heard that Canton turned you in because he was in trouble,” Gil said.

Manson stepped back, shoving his weight into Gil. “Don’t bring that into it.” He turned his focus back to Vance. “They said Canton might be involved. I don’t know it. I say don’t accuse nobody if you don’t know.”

Vance stretched languidly and stared into the sky. “You say they have proof?”

Gil chimed in again, this time with his hands up to guard against any more sudden body checks from Manson. “They say that a bunch of students confessed to cheating.” He paused. “But not us. We’d never say. You don’t cheat and snitch. That’s just the long way to fail.”

I knew that Vance had been dealing in information. The accusation at Canton made sense. Their meeting at the theater didn’t look like everything was smooth. Clearly Canton had leverage and was trying to use it against Vance. Which meant there was something Canton knew that I needed to find out.

Vance sat back up. “It’ll blow over. These things happen. Fingers point and everyone yells, and in the end, the teachers have to save face. They think they’re so clever and watch everyone so carefully. Cheating’s just a different way to learn. Not like they know anything, with static curriculum and classes that could be taught by a robot.” He made it sound like a joke, but he was angry.

I got to my feet. “We’ll figure something out, Vance. We’ll find a way to deal with Canton or Headmaster Whiles. They can’t just throw you out.” I said it like I meant it. I wanted to mean it. But I knew the rule and that they could absolutely toss him. After all, my last school had thrown me away, and I hadn’t even broken any regulations.

Still, I wouldn’t let this stand.

Vance remained seated with an unconcerned smile, staring into the sky. “Everything will be fine, guys. I always find a way to land on my feet.”

* * *

Despite Vance’s assurances, I wanted to get my own plan into action. To this end, I started following Headmaster Whiles. I already had access to his personnel files and password. I had been using those for my own purposes for months now, but the files didn’t reveal anything that could help Vance. Professionally, the headmaster was a dedicated administrator. He was fair with employees, even when they faced scandals, and he had multiple commendations for resolving student conflicts that led to graduation and fulfilling after-education career placements.

I left campus and took a transport to Whiles’ neighborhood. I scouted the area with a few passes of the houses on each side, careful not to cross directly by the house without at least one building between me and the target. Remi called it the rule of separation, that the only time you directly interface with a target is during a job. Recon was done ideally with three separations, but one would do if things were urgent.

I found a house in the neighborhood to the east of his that was vacant. The yard was kept up, but only so far, and the building was clean but sterile. I took a lattice to the roof and then climbed into an open window, then I stood inside an empty bedroom and watched Whiles’ home with field glasses I had picked up. I had been building my own kit of tools but limited my purchases to things a student could be caught with or expected to have a use for. This gave me an adequate supply, but nothing as high quality or advanced as Remi’s.

Whiles had dinner with his wife and two children, and he played games with the kids afterward. He later browsed something on a personal pad and sat quietly in a home office. Nothing suggested malfeasance, though it was hard to tell what he was accessing on the pad. I would need to get into his access records, but that would have to wait.

I returned to campus to dig through his access logs and financials.

The access logs revealed he was looking through the regulations on expulsions. A bad sign for Vance. Though I had to admit, it was good to see him reviewing the information and not making a move first. It fit the character I had already seen in Whiles, a fair man that worked hard but wasn’t overly intelligent or creative. He had passion and dedication for his job but possessed a dull wit.

He had pulled up the backgrounds on eight other students in addition to Vance. I noted Manson but not Gil. Canton’s file had been accessed twice in the day. My file was not touched. I took that as absence of evidence and drew no further conclusion. In addition, he had looked into the files and grading reports of six teachers. Two of these, Parker and Nolans, had bad records with grading policies. Their files carried more than a few reprimands for grade fixing. Whiles’ own notations suggested firing and replacement, but a teachers’ coalition had given them clemency.

His financials were a dull and consistent flow of bills paid, salary earned, and occasional luxuries purchased or engaged in. No sudden infusions of cash or strange splurges. Of course, the financial records could be tampered with or he could be running an off-account strategy. If Mr. Kurns’s enterprise had taught me anything, it was that financial records only told a part of a financial story.

I considered the case of Mr. Kurns. Revealing his operations could be used as leverage, to show that Whiles didn’t know what was going on in his own school, discrediting him as an administrator. I was reluctant to burn Mr. Kurns. He had shown nothing but support for the students. He also had information on my off-campus activities, which could be a problem. Lastly, Vance liked Mr. Kurns, so he wouldn’t likely accept solving his problem in that fashion.

Canton was a piece of work. His file read like the gilded prince of a foreign land. His family was corporate and connected. He had several infractions—ones that looked far worse than selling tests and answers—in his files. He had been caught in an off-campus incident that left another student in a coma, and he had been caught with controlled substances on campus and even turned over to local authorities. Those records had also been suppressed. Canton deserved something bad to happen to him but existed in a protective bubble. I would have to consider changing that another way.

I turned in for the night, planning to follow Whiles carefully and spot anything in his routine that could suggest his life was different than it appeared in records. From my readings of the school procedures, an investigation into the removal of a student took three days from the submission of the complaint. With one gone, I needed to make tomorrow count.

* * *

The moment classes were over, I was at the gate and ready to track Headmaster Whiles, having given myself a medical release that would let me take a bus from the grounds to a specific facility. I ordered tests with a doctor that hadn’t started yet but was listed on the staff, so I could explain the whole thing away as miscommunication. It gave me several hours of excuse.

Whiles traveled light, taking the same public transport each day. I sat in front of him on the bus to avoid a conversation that could crop up from walking past him. I was able to keep tabs on his position through reflections in the glass. The clinic I had chosen for my excuse was beyond his neighborhood stop.

We traveled through town with many people getting on and off the transport. The stops moved along quickly—the Union kept the transports on time, after all. I felt a surge of excitement as I carefully surveilled Whiles. This was just like the gun heist except that I felt more involved. Maybe it was because it was my plan from top to bottom. Maybe it was because I was doing it for Vance and not the thrill. I didn’t have time to separate the sensations.

The bus arrived at Whiles’ normal stop. He remained on board.

I felt a jolt of encouragement. This would reveal new information. In my mind’s eye, I saw this becoming the smoking gun that could save Vance. Minutes later, I felt that jolt evaporate as my own stop came up. I exited the bus without looking back and took two steps into the clinic before heading back out. I crossed the street, keeping an even pace, like Remi had shown me.

The bus continued forward. I had memorized the route the night before. I knew there were three more stops before it turned and came back through. Whiles could get off at any of them. I ran through the particular buildings adjoining each. A market, which could be for regular shopping or something else. Stop two was a corporate apartment complex. Another place where illicit behavior might occur. The third and final stop . . . My heart sank. It was the stop next to his wife’s employer.

I retraced my steps back to the clinic and entered. I provided my name and was told that the appointment was in error, as I had planned. With my cover in place, I waited for the bus to return. I boarded and saw Vance’s hopes disappear. Whiles was seated with his wife. They both got off at their usual stop and I rode the bus sullenly back to Quintell.

* * *

I had failed to find anything that could help Vance. Any plan to discredit Canton would take too long to put in place.

I met with Vance in his room to deliver the news. “I can’t find a way around it. They have what they need to proceed with your removal. Headmaster Whiles did what he could, but there’s enough evidence and some teachers, and students, really want you gone.”

Vance leaned against the wall, giving me an easy smile and a shrug. “These things happen.”

I felt a tinge of anger. “Don’t you care? Don’t you want to stop this?” I could feel myself shaking.

Vance walked over and sat on the couch with me, his usual nonchalance momentarily gone, but even as he leveled with me, he remained strangely upbeat. “This isn’t my first removal. I’ve still got two years, so it probably won’t be my last.”

I wanted to explain to him the lengths I had gone to try and help. The powerlessness I felt that nothing I knew could change the outcome. Nothing except for the dirt on Canton. “Look, Vance, you should know that Ca—”

He smacked me in the arm and stood up. There was pain in his eyes. “No! Don’t tell me. It doesn’t matter who or why. I didn’t cover my bases and things went bad. It happens, that’s the risk. You trying to fix it just makes it worse. Okay? Can’t you just . . . be a friend and not do whatever it is you’re thinking of—”

He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t get a chance. The door opened and Maevik came in.

She nodded to me and then addressed Vance. “The decision came down. I’m to take you to the transport.”

I was shocked. “Tomorrow. The decision comes in tomorrow?” I asked it as a question because I wanted it to be true, but I knew then that it wasn’t. Vance had known about the accusations the day before Manson and Gil stumbled onto it. His three days were up.

Vance punched me on the arm again and opened a drawer. He pulled out a small packed bag and followed Maevik out. I followed him through the hall and out to the courtyard, my mind working overtime for a solution to this—for a way to let him stay. I didn’t want the only friend I had in this place to disappear.

“I can fix this,” I said, ignoring what he’d said to me only a few moments ago.

Vance looked at me, setting his bag down beside the transport’s hatch. “What?”

“I can figure this out, Vance. I know I can.”

He just smiled at me. “You probably could, Alpha. You’re the smartest guy I know, but seriously, let this one go,” he said, no hint of distress. “Just do me a favor, alright?”

I nodded. “What is it?”

“When we’re free of all these rules and schools, look me up,” he said. “Or I’ll find you. Either way, let’s catch up. I wanna hear about whatever trouble you find yourself getting into.”

“Trouble?” I asked.

He chuckled. “You think I don’t know you’re up to something, Alpha? You might be the smartest guy in the room, but I’m not blind.” He gave me a quick wink. “Just be careful, whatever you’re up to.”

“Right,” I said, almost whispering the word, and then for the first time in a while, I felt a strange fear in my throat and a growing uncertainty about what would come next. “Everyone else here is boring,” I said, not quite knowing why I was saying it.

“That’s the truth if ever I heard it,” said Vance. “But you’ll be fine without me. You’re a full-on rebel now, Alpha.” He opened the door and tossed his bag inside then turned back to me. I could feel more eyes emerging from the rooms and staring through the windows.

Manson and Gil flanked me, for once dropping their affectations and just standing there like wounded and hurt kids.

Vance gave us a smile. “You boys take care,” he said, getting inside the vehicle. “Catch you on the other side, Alpha.”

The door shut as he said the last word, and then the engine roared to life.

Gil and Manson stood with me for a while, even after the shuttle left. We didn’t speak as the rest of the crowd dispersed and went about their days.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this. Vance had been my only real friend at this place. I had a few acquaintances, sure, but no one else. Not like him. It was confusing, but I decided to push it out of my head for now.

I had other things to worry about.

16

I decided to reach out to Evelyn, rather than wait for her to contact me. Much to my delight, she had a new puzzle ready for me to solve. I took my usual trip out to Cascade Gardens on auto-pilot. Normally, I was careful to avoid being seen by anyone that might have a connection with the academy or could be overly attentive. Today, I merely walked the streets without caring who saw me.

I wanted to chastise myself for the lack of conviction and caution, but it didn’t register. If anything, I felt that the world didn’t value effort. That I would escape harm just because or succumb to it no matter what. No matter how much I planned, there was always a level of chance involved.

Vance had disappeared forever, and it had happened despite my efforts. I hated myself for not being fast enough, for not being smart enough to fix it.

Evelyn was waiting at the gate to the park. She seemed at ease but certainly focused her attention on me from a distance. I must have been a spectacle the way I slumped through the street and into the Gardens complex. If she noticed my mood, she didn’t comment as we entered the building and her apartment proper.

I took my usual seat and was grateful that Evelyn took a moment to pause at the kitchen rather than throwing the data pad at me immediately. I lost track of time for a moment and she was already back in the living area with a tray of hot liquids.

“Alphonse? You look like you could use some bolstering. I know these puzzles have been difficult so far, but I assumed you had more grit than this.”

I looked at her, sitting across from me on the other sofa. I couldn’t determine by her face if she had genuine concern or was afraid a toy was broken.

“Is this about that guard Remi had to deal with? Cost of business, you understand.”

I took the offered drink and breathed the vapor, steeling myself to deal with the coming tirade. For a moment, I perked up but hid it. People had an interesting tendency to run at the mouth when they saw someone feeling pitiful. Something to remember for another time.

“I need you in top form for this next puzzle. Tell me what you need, and I’ll see what I can do. Do you need to come back tomorrow? I would prefer sooner to later, but it will keep.”

I considered the urgency she expressed and the veneer of concern. The more I tried to isolate her motives, the more aware I became that I had stopped hurting over Vance and the more I felt a sinister glee to see through her motives.

I perked up and focused on her. “I’m good. I’m just worried about the end of the term. Lots to plan during break. I’ve got a puzzle of my own to deal with there, but it will keep. What have you got for me?” I drank deeply from the cup while she pulled up the information. The liquid was warm to begin with and began to burn before I stopped. Pain, it turns out, was also a powerful focusing tool.

She handed me the pad and went back to the kitchen while I studied it. I watched her over the top of the pad as she left. She wasn’t heading for anything. She just wanted to be away from me while I worked.

The pad was heavy with data this time. Instead of a one-floor plan, there were three. A total of ten floors to the building in question with a target room listed on the third floor above ground with two more below a basement and sub-basement.

The second-floor plan showed retrofitting and changes to the first layout. The third showed conjectured changes since the second plan. The first challenge was in determining what changes were more likely than not.

The next set of information was about entry points and exits. The facility was Union, something important as it showed signs of internal defense from the Union military as well as technology purchased from Klemtite and Chrysalis. For a moment, it seemed like DSS had no presence in the building, but then I saw the internal human-manned monitoring station. The best of all worlds, or at least that was the projection of force at work.

The final set of information addressed personnel and staff movements—guard shifts and patterns of projected movement. The duty roster and employee access logs were sparse. Essential personnel only.

There was nothing in the way of utility and service lines. I saw why this was as well. Everything was internal and self-contained. Even the water waste was collected and manually taken out and in. It wasn’t efficient, but it sure as hell was secure.

I put down the pad and saw Evelyn lurking through the island window. “I’ve got what I need to start. Anything specific you need to tell me about the goal?”

As she came back into the living area, I noticed that her bedroom door was wide open. She caught my gaze then walked over to the door and secured it. She gave me a quick smile, “Now now, young man, a woman’s inner chamber is not for your eyes.”

She affected the adult scolding a child tone as a distraction. I saw two things in the room that I couldn’t forget. The first was a stock certificate related to Chronos Edu Inc., the same place that secured my school funding. Possibly a coincidence, but a peculiar one. The other was a photo of Evelyn and an older man. The pose suggested a familiarity, but formally so. Perhaps it was distant relative or a professional contact. The thing that was most shocking was that the man in the photo was Canton’s father.

She sat in the wingback chair and picked up the pad, then she flipped through the data screens until she saw something she needed to comment on. “This here.” She showed me the slide. “That box is the target, which you knew. What you didn’t know is that it can’t be moved without special tools.”

“Will we have access to those tools?”

She laughed. “Of course. Wouldn’t be much of a heist if we couldn’t take the loot out. All you need to figure out is how to find a window of time to get the box out. The wider the better, obviously.”

I drank the rest of my beverage. “I’ll get to work. When I have an answer, I will message you.”

She patted me on the knee. “I wait patiently, but not very. I’m counting on you to really dazzle me with your brilliance this time. Now let yourself out. I have other things to attend to.”

* * *

I worked on the problem through the evening and late into the night. It was a formidable task in scope and structure. The number of floors below and above the target meant covering a lot of ground on both an approach and an exit.

The internal, self-contained nature of the utilities eliminated cutting off vital services and there would be no sneaking in as faux maintenance staff. Everything was maintained by a dedicated, around-the-clock set of technicians that lived inside the complex. The expense to maintain the facility must have been immense, but you get what you pay for.

The guard patrols were the final hurdle. Their paths through the facility didn’t give enough time to make any pathway through feasible. Moving through one, even two floors without running into a patrol was conceivable, but not three or more, which meant a pathway into the facility was possible, but exiting would be more difficult. Moving the box made taking the same route back out a whole new challenge.

Of course, the routing was a lost cause because there were no useful entrances. The roof had an access portal and a landing pad for aerial transports. It also had a complete guard station and a single elevator that linked further into the complex. The front door had two checkpoint areas with an external bunker that had to be crossed before entering the building itself. Neither the basement nor the sub-basement had any external outlet. They were accessible only through an elevator system. Only a few floors had stairs that linked them with most of the complex being connected by elevators that crossed only two or three stories.

Each time I hit a seemingly impossible section, I turned my attention to another aspect of the problem. I was trying to figure out one element and then use what I knew would work to connect the next. It took me three passes through the basic elements of infiltrate, secure, exfiltrate before I came up with even one path that could avoid guards, and it only worked if we started inside the building at particular points.

I worked it down to key phases and difficulties.

The first was security technology. In previous jobs, we were able to overcome the devices with an array of exploits and knowing the placement of each system. Those setups were straightforward: determine a pathway to the target and then plan to eliminate each obstacle along the way. The changing nature of the obstacles in the way and not knowing exactly which company was supplying potentially overlapping systems meant more time at each obstacle to defeat and move past.

The second problem was guards. The patrols were well-thought-out and the number of guards for the facility was in excess of what would be needed for any other facility of size. Still, they did patrol and didn’t simply post man-to-man zones. Briefly, I wondered if this was to make it seem possible while remaining undoable. It was far more likely to be a practical matter of keeping the guards alert. You also couldn’t bribe or disable a single guard to breach an area. They traveled in packs of three, which would make them the equal of any infiltration group. A solo agent wouldn’t have time to disable enough of the technology to proceed.

Time was the next problem. Any route in would need to disable enough systems to mask the route out without running into maintenance staff or guards.

I considered three different tiers of success. Getting out clean, getting out but being noticed, and getting the box out but losing everyone on the way.

I faded into a stressful sleep as I considered this last set of parameters. What level of sacrifice was I willing to suggest? What level could I even imagine?

* * *

I struggled through classes the next day. The lack of sleep from the past few days was taking its toll. Between thinking about the Union puzzle and considering what to do about the Vance situation, I hadn’t slept a full night in over a week. Coupled with that was my severe disinterest in class. Nothing that they were teaching was applicable in the worlds I had been moving in. It was just facts and data, which I could look up or memorize. Theory was lacking and practical application even less common.

Still, maintenance was important. I managed through the day and walked to the track afterward. It was a place that I could keep myself alert while I thought through issues. It was also where Vance’s influence and life philosophy seemed strongest.

I passed by the athletic building and onto the track area proper, when I saw Manson and Gil. They were hovering around the far side of the track, looking grim. They waved me over, and I nodded. It was a strong departure from the way they greeted me during my first night at Quintell—a testament to Vance’s ability to create allies and weave people together. His sociability was something I’d always lacked, and now I found myself missing it.

“What are we going to do, Alphonse?” Manson asked

“We can’t do nothing.” Gil scoffed.

I waved my arms in exhaustion and leaned down to start my stretches. “I’m here to exercise.”

Manson dropped down and followed my technique. “We need to talk about Vance. I know he’s gone, but we can do something. Can’t we?”

“Do something about what?” I asked. “Vance is gone.”

Gil didn’t bother stretching. Instead, he began to pace around the two of us. “He’s talking about Canton. I’ll say it. Canton needs to go down.”

I stood up and walked to the nearby wall of the athletic club for the next set of stretches. “I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. It was tough to admit, but they sounded like they were on the verge of something rash. Knowing those two, I expected something crude and simple, like a straightforward brawl in the bathroom. I needed to work with them, or I would lose any opportunity at Canton myself.

Manson again copied my actions. “We’re thinking we can make his life hell. Just a little. Show him what it’s like.”

Gil bounced up and down, waiting for us to get moving. “I just wanna deck him and be done with it.”

I sighed. “That means you’re gone and Canton looks like a proper student menaced. You can’t hurt him publicly like that.”

We started a lap around the track. The motion helped me think. It was admittedly nice to have them with me.

Manson gasped and wheezed even on the warm-up lap. Gil, of course, had boundless energy.

He jogged in front of me a few paces and turned around the way Vance would have. “We should poison him,” he said, casually.

I stopped running and feigned a shoe adjustment, and Manson was happy to stop and catch his breath. I spoke in a quiet tone. “What do you mean, poison?”

Gil took part of the hint and lowered his voice for parts of the statement. “Not like, to death or really badly. Just something that will hurt and make him look like a chump. Like when I took that dare and ate all those chilis. I didn’t die, but I kinda felt like I might.”

I considered the possibility. “Something like food poisoning. Something that would not be traced and would give him problems.”

Gil and Manson both nodded. “Yeah, especially if he puked in class or couldn’t get excused and ruined some pants. That would be great.”

Public humiliation didn’t have the same effect or permanence as expulsion, but it might do for the short-term. Still, I wondered if such a thing was beneath me. I stood up and started into my next lap. “Let me think about it. I’ll let you know what I come up with.”

I started running and they followed. We did a few laps before Manson had to take a breather. Overall, it was good exercise.

* * *

I returned to my room and got back to work on the problem. Manson and Gil had one thing right—some low-grade food poisoning could be a good way to disrupt people without being suspicious. I checked some information on the network and discovered productivity in the workplace dropped by thirty percent when employees were ill. Even better, response times to critical tasks fell as much as forty-five percent.

Bouts of food-borne illness could last seventy-two hours with extreme symptoms not being noticed upwards of sixteen hours after exposure. If enough employees were given different tainted meals within a day of a planned job, they would be sluggish and ill-prepared to deal with emergencies. Being a Union complex, a place where highly-trained and elite workers operated, they wouldn’t fail to report to work for minor problems.

By the time they realized the problems were more than minor, the whole facility would be in a sad state.

It was a risky plan, as the behaviors of each individual would vary widely. It could also cause delays in patrols, which would make avoiding guards even harder. If there was a way to affect different groups of employees with different types of illness, that would give the best tactical advantage.

Working a series of illnesses targeted at the security monitors, maintenance staff, and guards provided far wider gaps in patrol times and repairs of crucial systems. It also bogged down the internal air and water filtration systems. As the problems became obvious, they would attempt to reinforce key areas and suspect breaches at the doors. This would make exfiltration harder.

I concluded that three distinct food-borne illnesses would create manageable havoc. This gave me options in moving other key pieces of the complex problem, but it didn’t provide a full solution. I retreated to sleep excited to be making progress but worried that I had so far yet to go.

* * *

The next day swept by less slowly since I’d had some rest. Still, the problem was not solved, and the Canton issue also needed something definitive. I hoped to gain some space to concentrate more fully on the puzzle, so I decided to visit Mr. Kurns and glean something about Canton’s financial situation. Maybe he could be exposed without taking down Mr. Kurns’s whole system.

I hurried from my final class in the history building to the maintenance building in hopes of catching Mr. Kurns before he left for the day. His schedule was idiosyncratic, either as part of his extracurricular affairs or the pressures of working an on-call job.

Fortunately, he was in his office. I knocked on the door when I saw him sitting at his desk. He waved to me and hit a button, then the door released and I entered. The door shut behind me. “You might want to catch the blinds.”

I did as suggested, pulling the blinds down over the office window and door.

Mr. Kurns put up a hand in warning and pointed to a seat. “I know why you’re here. Sit down and listen before you get in trouble.”

I took a seat. His tone was conciliatory, not angry. Whatever he was referring to had nothing to do with my own extracurricular pursuits.

He stitched his hands together beneath his salt and pepper beard. “It’s troubling what happened to Vance. Nothing to do about it. He was in over his head and dealing with people that were sloppy. I told him it was bad business, but he said he could work it out.”

I smiled. “You could remove his arms and legs and Vance would still say he had things under control.” I bit my lip and balled up a fist. “It was his best and most frustrating quality.”

Mr. Kurns laughed. “Sounds like you knew him well. So, do you have anything specific for me?”

I considered the offer. Though the scope of the tone was broad, I went for the direct approach. “I need to know what kind of deals you have with Canton. How much he’s been allotted and where he squanders it. I know that his father’s company provides his school support, but I assume he has you double-dipping on that.”

Mr. Kurns shrugged and pulled up a file on his data pad. “Right to it, then, no cat and mouse about what each of us knows. I appreciate that. Canton spends money like he has an endless supply. Mind you, with the value of his father’s company, that isn’t too far from the truth. His father tries to cut him off from time to time, but Canton is resourceful.”

“No. He’s abusive. There’s a difference.”

Mr. Kurns flipped to a spreadsheet on the pad. “True enough.” He pointed to a section of highlighted lines on the spreadsheet. “See here? These deductions happened after his last cut off. He failed a bio exam, so his father stopped the transfers. He had me lift twice as much for what he called incentive and compensation.”

I saw another set of higher-end numbers. “What about these? Those seem to be even higher.”

Mr. Kurns shook his head. “That’s why you don’t over-reward and under-punish. Soon as he passed the next exam, highest grade in the class thanks to Vance’s provided answers, his dad upped his weekly by more than he took away.”

“What would happen, do you think, if Canton failed a test bad enough to fail the term?”

Mr. Kurns suppressed a glimmer in his eyes. “If some miracle arranged that, he’d head home for the break with no cash flow and an angry father. It might not stick, but it would be a helluva a slap to his shit-muncher ego.”

I had a thought about the shell game that Mr. Kurns ran with maintenance and supplies. “How do you deal with heavy shifts in cash flow between your two activities?”

He turned off the pad and stood up before walking to a rack of parts on the far side of the small office. “In the lean times, you make do. In the heavy times, you stock up on a few things. I’ve been doing this a long time and I know how to chart the winds, as it were.”

“And people that don’t have your experience?”

Mr. Kurns chuckled. “They start with putting in more effort to compensate for the right materials, and as it gets worse, they start blaming the supply chain. Eventually, they curse the tools that work for not being magical. They rarely notice they were the weak component in the system.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kurns. For the information, and the kind words about Vance. Please, go ahead and keep my weekly allowance.”

He shook his head and walked me to the door. “I appreciate the offer, Alphonse, but you keep what is yours and I’ll keep what’s mine. This conversation didn’t happen.” He gave me a broad wink and opened the door. “I’ll see what I can do about that hallway door,” he said as a cover.

“It has been bothering me since I arrived.”

* * *

I headed back to my room and began working on the next step for the Canton plan. I needed to get him a message that I could help him with his bio final. That would set him up for the failure I had in mind.

As for the Evelyn puzzle, Mr. Kurns had given me some insight into the maintenance world. Engineers thought they were smarter than the problems they encountered. They would be more prone to try and fix a problem with bad resources than admit they couldn’t.

If the supply of parts for the complex dried up, they would continue to operate and do work around that would lead to cascading failures. Union regulations were publicly accessible, so I checked through them. All essential systems were required to have redundancies and parts on hand. But they only needed to have one extra of anything. Even a cautious engineer would only have two.

Tampering with the supply chain would be difficult. Either replacing the shipments headed for the facility with broken parts that the engineers would work around or freezing their budgets to order just long enough to have them bottom out of the reserves seemed like the best choices. It would be difficult to do both without it being suspicious. Still, I had another wedge to open up the facility. The plan was becoming clear, bit by bit.

17

The next day, I was removed from classes early. My previous deception about the clinic appointment needed a second phase. The doctor I had scheduled an impossible meeting with to check up on Whiles had now officially started office hours. With my general lack of sleep and stress, it seemed like it would provide me with a good baseline for creating smoke screens in the future.

I hadn’t been to many doctors in my life. I knew what to avoid and practiced careful handwashing and general cleanliness. Disease was about happenstance and nobody was immune forever, but I had expressed proper caution in the past, which had kept me safe enough.

I proceeded to the gate and was stopped by Proctor Maevik with her usual confused wave/salute greeting. “Alphonse? You’re with me, no bus for a middle of day journey.”

I should have known that. Clearly, the sleep deprivation was wearing on me more than I was able to express. “Good to see you, Proctor Maevik.”

She frowned. “What did I tell you about using my last name? Cams will do. It really is alright. I’m staff, you don’t have to be formal with me like faculty.”

She walked with me back from the gate to the maintenance shed and the transport already set to go. I didn’t see Mr. Kurns.

“I was taught to use the name appropriate to the situation, nicknames and first names being for peers. You still hold a position of authority. I would hate to negate that.”

She sighed and got in the transport. “I don’t know if I should be flattered that you think being a glorified truant officer has authority or mad that you’re using it as an excuse. Either way, we have to be at the clinic soon.”

Maevik navigated the route there as quickly as she navigated her way through crowds. Despite the traffic, we arrived early. And since it was a clinic office, even somewhat late is still early. The Union might have the transports running on time, but medicine would always be a field that takes a lot of time and never runs true to schedule.

The admitting staff took my name and confirmed the doctor’s name. “Scheduled for 1:20? Well, it’s 1:10 now, so we’ll get to you as soon as the doctor is available. Take a seat”—they checked the paperwork—“Alphonse.”

I sat down and Maevik took up a position beside me. The waiting room was, of course, packed. We took the last two seats near the general clinic door. I was quiet, studying the faces of the other patients waiting. I idly diagnosed them based on their reactions and external symptoms. Or tried. It didn’t take long before I realized I couldn’t tell who was a patient and who was a supporter. Illness has a fear effect that masks true intentions. People simply don’t know how to act like themselves when faced with fear and apprehension. Too much instinct to maintain individuality for the most part.

A technician emerged from the clinic and checked a pad and then called out a name and a time stamp. “Broadkle? 12:40?”

Maevik sighed and I met her gaze. They were three people behind. The technician also caught her sigh and looked at us. There was a flash of recognition. “Captain Maevik? Good to see you. Are you here for an adjustment? Oh my, your wig is looking excellent. I knew that they would get you a proper fit.”

Maevik concealed a mixture of rage and embarrassment. “Alphonse, I’ll be at the transport. Lydia, everything’s fine.”  She pushed through the door and exited in a hurry.

Lydia, the technician, looked horrified. She had broken protocol and made a terrible faux pas in drawing attention to Maevik in an open space. Not that anyone else in the space was paying attention. She fixed me with a look and then greeted Mr. Broadkle, then she escorted him down the hall and was gone for several minutes.

I returned to my deliberations on the actions of the waiting room people, but also considered what I had learned about Maevik. Lydia returned and sat beside me. “Are you a friend or relative of Camille?”

“No, I’m a student at Quintell Academy. Proctor Maevik is my escort for the clinic appointment.”

She looked chagrined. “I’m so sorry about before. I hadn’t seen her almost a year. We… knew each other before. Let her know I apologize and will accept any formal complaint she may want to file.” She stood up. “I have to get back to work.”

It was over an hour before I was finally called in. Predictably, my appointment took only the twenty allotted minutes as I explained my situation and he performed routine tests. My lack of questions and general ability to follow instruction made everything go smoothly.

Afterward, I returned to the transport to find Maevik standing outside at attention. She was visibly shaken by the experience, her usual open and jovial nature missing. She stood at attention with a cold, nearly robotic posture. I approached the transport and stopped before getting in. She watched me intently, not moving.

“The technician, Lydia, wanted me to pass along an apology. I would also like to apologize, Cams.”

She shot me a cold look then opened the door. I also entered the transport.

“Don’t give me that out of sympathy, Mr. M . . . Alphonse.” She struggled to land on a name for me. In the end, she sighed. The transport remained off and unmoving.

“I didn’t understand before how important the dynamic of authority and peer was to you,” I explained. “In there, Lydia exposed several secrets you don’t want known. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. But I will call you by the name you request, because that is respect. A formal title doesn’t define who you are, but how people should see you. An offered name says something about who you want to be. I see that now.”

She sighed and started the transport. “Apology accepted. Let’s get back to campus, Alphonse.”

As we moved out of the clinic area and onto the road, I had an idea. “We’re already out and it isn’t unreasonable for a student to request a comfort stop after a clinic visit, is it?”

She nodded. “Do you need to go somewhere? You don’t seem like the clinic bothered you.”

“No. I’m fine . . . it’s for you. I would like to buy you a cake and coffee.”

She laughed a dry chuckle. “I appreciate the offer. I’ll even take you up on it.” She turned toward the downtown area. Within minutes, we’d arrived at a hole-in-the-wall café. “This is my favorite,” she commented.

We exited the transport and put in an order, then sat down.

“Do you want to know the whole story?”

I considered what I already knew and what I didn’t, then decided it would be prudent not to blurt what I knew. “Anything you want to tell. I don’t need all of your secrets.”

She smiled, more herself in that moment. The coffee and cakes arrived. She was even a bit animated in accepting them. “This café is run by something of an expat. A former soldier living on a Union world. He’s an interesting guy. I was Union military myself. Stationed out in the rim worlds near the Deadlands.”

I nodded and enjoyed the coffee. It had a bit of spice to it.

“I was part of a search and recovery team,” she said. “Second in the chain under a tough nut of a commander, Jack Welder. He pushed us beyond what we thought we could do, which is good for a commanding officer. He also backed us when things went wrong and we lost people.” She sipped her coffee and enjoyed some cake. “Search and recovery is a difficult job. We were trained to extricate assets, usually black boxes and prototypes, occasionally pilots and VIPs, from extreme conditions—crashes on hostile worlds, accessing derelicts that had lost life support. Anything could go wrong, and we could lose our target or members of the squad.” She rubbed her right arm and I heard her shuffling her feet. “We were good at what we did. Even the missions that went poorly were rarely a complete disaster.”

I couldn’t hold my tongue any longer and interjected, “You lost the arm and both legs below the knee. From what Lydia implied, you also had some skull rebuilt that left you unable to grow your own hair. It looks natural, by the way.”

She fought for a moment to scowl or smile, settling on a pained grin. “I’ve noticed you do a good job of reading people. Surprised it took you this long to say anything.”

I put down my coffee. “I’m learning. To not upset people. You were reserved about your personal history. I didn’t want to take from you, Cams. The salute/wave you do. That is a brain issue, right? A programming mistake?”

Now she was impressed. “Yes. Whenever I want to greet someone, it goes to muscle memory and that memory spent fifteen years saluting, so it fights to do both. Both gestures access the same storage in the brain, and it comes out wrong.”

“The same with your feet then, the shuffling is you fighting to be still and to be ready at the same time?”

She frowned and took a heavy sigh. “No. That one is a remnant of their last action as they jerked to get me away from the hull breach that tore me apart. No matter what I do, somewhere in my mind, they’re always in motion.”

I had nothing to say to that. The losses I had faced in life didn’t mean anything. I didn’t care enough to mourn my parents, and though I missed Vance, it was nothing in comparison.

She drained the rest of her coffee and moved around the remaining crumbs of her cake. “Alphonse. Thanks for this. It was helpful. When you close yourself off but leave a way for people to get under your skin, it just leads to disaster, you know?”

I didn’t know. But I had a flash of inspiration.

* * *

It took a few hours of digging on the network, but my hunch paid off. Maevik’s situation gave me the idea and I had to run down the details to confirm it was possible. I sent Evelyn a message that night then headed over, hoping she would be ready for me.

As I approached the Cascade Gardens, I saw that she was waiting for me by the stoop, cigarette in hand. I gave her a cheerful wave, a bit too excited. I tried to calm down as I crossed the park.

“We’ll talk inside,” she said as she snuffed out the cigarette.

As usual, I gathered the butt as she opened the door.

Once we were inside the apartment, she sat in the wingback chair. “Alright, tell me what you have that’s worth interrupting me at this hour.”

I noticed that she hadn’t removed her coat at the door as she usually did. She also had a bit of the scent of wine on her. “You’ll want to get your data pad and take notes. It isn’t a simple solution,” I explained.

She perked up at that. “Go make us some tea in the kitchen.”

It was an odd request. I had never been further into her apartment than the sofa I was sitting on. I did as instructed and walked into the kitchen. The kettle and cups were in plain sight, so I did the preparation. I could hear her entering and then exiting and resealing her bedroom.

I took the tea back to the living area and sat in my usual spot. She was ready with her data pad.

“There are three major components to the plan,” I said.

She fixed me with her half smile. “Oh, nothing more elegant and one trick beats all?”

Her words expressed mockery, but her tone was one of admiration. “The three steps cover the major issues of entrance, guard patrols, and security bypass needed to get in and out cleanly.”

She nodded. “Drink your tea and walk me through it slowly.”

I poured myself a cup and continued on. “The most important part is the infiltration route. Nothing was working when I tried to plot a path through any of the known entrances. The front door was an immediate problem; we wouldn’t even get through the outer bunker into the complex proper. The roof access only got us to the sixth floor. Service entrances ended with us being picked off and only hitting the fourth floor at best.”

She nodded and traced her finger over her pad, following my logic.

“I was puzzled by part of the construction of the basement into the sub-basement. These spaces are irregular in shape to the floors above. That meant they were built at a different time than the rest of the complex, apparently as part of a shelter years ago. A disused sewer line once connected to them but was walled off when the new complex was built.”

She lit up at that.

“I sent you an updated schematic with the sewer line,” I said.

She accessed the plan and her smile grew. “Well well.”

“It would take weeks to dig through the rock,” I continued. “It’s only fifty feet, but any drilling will arouse suspicion except for an hour between three and four when the maintenance team runs a check on their seismograph. While the system is calibrating, they won’t register any of the vibrations. Guards also check the entrances to the sewer line before and after the calibration. A driller would need to be down there for as much as ten hours for each hour of drilling to avoid detection.”

She made some notes. “And the other two steps of your solution?”

“To create as many windows of opportunity to defeat the security inside, you would need to starve out the supplies of the maintenance teams. This means cutting payment flow high enough up the chain that it started interfering with compensation for the workers and the suppliers. This will upset the maintenance teams and force work with inadequate supplies and parts.”

Again, Evelyn beamed as she wrote down information. “So that anything that went down when someone accessed the box, they wouldn’t know if it was intruders or typical problems. Interesting.”

I gave a slight nod. “The third part is to find the catering companies bringing food into the complex. Introducing some contaminated ingredients into the food will infect most of the workers with low-level illnesses a day after the sabotage. This will limit overall response times and cause confusion during the aftermath. The complex would be upset at the catering company but won’t be able to prove anything connected to a third party.”

Evelyn looked through the information she had written. “Very good, Alphonse. I almost thought you were going to be stumped by this one. Color me impressed.”

I sighed. The relief from the days of work in coming up with such a difficult series of solutions had weighed on me even more than I thought. “So that was the answer?” I asked.

Evelyn looked at the pad and back at me. “Of course. Yes, can’t slide anything past you. Now I’ve got to get back to some other matters. Return to your room and I’ll contact you again soon.”

I headed to the door, expecting her to follow, but she was still busy with the pad. So I let myself out.

18

I spent the next three days putting my plan for Canton in place. The first part was going to be the most difficult, so I saw to it quickly.

Manson and Gil had been meeting me at the track after classes most afternoons. It was good exercise, which we needed, but it was also a kind of informal and unspoken “remember Vance” group.

I wasn’t surprised to hear Gil talking in his excited, unrestrained clip while Manson interjected surly warnings in between. The subject of their banter: Canton’s imminent poisoning.

“Botulism,” Gil stated. “It’s so easy. We can get some from all sorts of places. They use it for like, medical things. It will look like he’s just into that stuff.”

“Not so loud, idiot,” Manson warned him.

They came around the corner, where I was already done with my stretches and prepped to run. “Botulism toxin also can cause death. So, no.”

Gil shrugged. “How am I supposed to know what’s deadly and what’s just bad?”

Manson sighed and tugged on his shoes. “We learned in chem class. Pay attention, man.”

Gil looked shocked. “I only remember the useful stuff. How to make fuel and smells and explosion. Y’know? Useful.”

I jogged in place, impatient to get started. “We shouldn’t poison him with anything.”

Gil bounced around Manson and got up close to me. “What you mean? Do nothing?”

Manson stood up and did a few half-hearted stretches. “He didn’t say do nothing, just no poisoning.”

Gil bounced back to get in Manson’s space. “That’s nothing, isn’t it?”

Manson stepped past the exuberant youth and started into a lap. “It’s different, but it sounds dumb. We gotta do something, Alphonse.”

I ran along with him and Gil quickly caught up and got in front of us. “There are other ways to get to Canton. Look, if he gets ill, that can be an excuse he will use to explain failing his classes.”

Manson struggled to speak through his usual wheezing. “Oh yeah. We want him to fail. Get him kicked out or held back. Man, that’s embarrassing.”

Gil did a circle around us in joy. “Can you imagine his face? That would be crucial. How you going to make that happen?”

“I’m working on it. I just need you two to calm down and stop loudly discussing poisoning. There will be a part for you to play. Just give me some more time.”

They exchanged a glance. “Okay, Alphonse. We trust you. Do Vance proud.”

Gil chimed in with the last word. “Just make sure we’re there to see it.”

We finished our run and I headed back to my room to shower and change. As I closed my door, I saw that I’d received a message from Evelyn. She wanted me to meet up with her at Winston’s apartment.

* * *

I arrived and Evelyn was already inside when I knocked. “I take it this is a job call?” I asked as she opened the door.

She was dismissive and just busied herself, tidying bits of Winston’s usual mess and saying nothing. Evelyn had never been very talkative, but today was different. Something about her breathing and the lack of eye contact made me wonder if she had something on her mind.

Before I could ask, there was another knock at the door, and Evelyn waved me to answer it. I did, revealing Remi on the other side. He quickly slipped in and cleared his throat. “No Winston?” he said without looking.

“I just arrived. I figured he was out doing an errand,” I remarked.

Evelyn put down a discolored throw pillow. “Yes. Winston will be out for a few weeks. He’s doing some personal things and I’m looking after his place.” She slapped the pillow a few times and watched a spray of dust come out. “Somebody clearly needs to.”

Remi sidestepped the dust cloud and stood along the wall near the door. “Fine. What are we dealing with today?”

Evelyn stopped pretending to cough in the dust cloud she had created and picked up a data pad. “You two are going on a quick smash and grab at a personnel staffing office.”

Remi nodded. “No prep work, just in and out?”

Evelyn laughed. “I may have overstated the smashing part. You’ll be making a return to your Klemtite Essentials silent working duo personas. The building is uptown, past the financial center but well east of the Union dispatch station. I don’t like to put you too close to previous areas.”

Remi remained expressionless. I was annoyed that nothing sounded exciting or challenging. Routine sounded like something that didn’t need or interest me. I would rather spend time working on the Canton plan.

She seemed to sense our disinterest. “Before you two professionals get all sullen on me, there is a catch.” She projected a picture above her pad. “This is the new Chrysalis door we’ve been hearing about. The building just installed them. Just like the previous models, they require special isotope keys to open. As an improvement, they also require that key to synchronize with ELF frequencies within designated key holders.”

Remi frowned. “How are we supposed to get through that?”

Evelyn laughed. “False I.D.’s have already been made. You are Klemtite’s best security officers, trying to show that Chrysalis is wrong to home in on their biometrics market share. At least, that’s why you’re in the building.”

I filled in the blank. “So, if we do get caught, we’re just two workers. No harm. Except that we may have to lose the identities.”

She nodded.

Remi remained unconvinced. “How is the kid supposed to pass himself off as a security professional?”

“Oh, that’s the best part, Remi. He’s your trainee. And if anyone can see a flaw in the design, it will be Alphonse.”

* * *

Remi pulled the Klemtite Essentials van up to the service entrance and we got out. The building was a solid tower, one of several in the area. Unlike the financial district buildings, which often had a lot of glass and odd external architecture to show off the wealth of the companies inhabiting them, this was rather plain.

I fetched the usual gear bag from the back and Remi strapped on his tool harness. We entered the lobby and met the security inside. There were two guards at the desk, along with a business representative from Chrysalis Motivations. He had all the earmarks of a middle manager: the fidgety hand and slicked back hair, the eyes trying to look for an angle but just moving too much. He greeted us as we entered.

“Welcome to our little test, gentleman and . . . assistant.”

His glance at me confused, as if he was expecting two people, but not the two he was seeing. For a moment, I was concerned that we were going to get caught before we got started.

He kept going after his delay. “You are here to try and breach the offices on the fourteenth floor. These belong to a staffing company that has recently acquired some high-end Union service contracts and needs to prove they have the security to defend their information.”

He paused again and reached out to shake our hands, first reaching for me and making a show of reaching down for my hand despite the fact that I was, at best, four inches shorter than him. Then he shook hands with Remi, and I saw recognition. There was more going on in the moment than was being spoken.

“Now. Your job here is also to do your best for Klemtite Essentials. It goes without saying that Chrysalis Motivations is counting on you failing to show the superiority of their new product.”

He concluded his boisterous introduction by turning around and leading us to the elevator. We stopped outside and he punched a button to call the car. “We’ll be down here waiting.” He gestured to the two guards. “We won’t be monitoring the floor with cameras. Klemtite was adamant that no recordings or monitoring of your intrusion devices could be made.”

The car arrived and we got in.

Before the doors shut, the manager made a final statement. “We’ll be up quickly to let you out when you fail. You can try any trick you want. Use everything you have hiding up your sleeves, but Chrysalis Motivations knows that our tech is unbeatable.”

The doors closed and the elevator ascended. I looked to Remi. “Do you think they actually won’t record us?”

He considered for a moment. “Corporations have some heft to protect their tech. It’s possible. I say always act like you’re being watched. It’s the only real way to go.”

The elevator stopped and we exited into an antechamber. In front of us was the Exquisite Staffing and Personnel office. The stylization on the first letter of each word, in combination with the color, gave me the impression they wanted to convey the acronym ESP for the company. It was smart branding. It was easier to say and remember and it allowed them to imply they had a “sixth sense” about staffing needs. I imagined they must have advertisements with those exact words in them.

The front doors were meant to be opened during business hours and led only to an outer office. Remi worked the clicker and had the door open before I had finished all of my initial observations. We entered the outer office and saw that we had a choice of two impressive versions of Chrysalis Motivation’s signature door.

The one on the left had a keypad next to an almost archaic-sized keyhole. The algorithm controlled when the door could be opened, and the keyhole was the entrance to the isotope lock.

The one on the right had only a flat black panel in the middle of the door with two small circular indentations about a hand’s width apart.

The doors were recessed down hallways about eight feet. Remi gestured to the ceiling, and I saw that recessed bulkheads waited to slide down and trap us if we failed to access the doors. My research on Chrysalis suggested this was the way things worked, but it was interesting to see confirmation of the deep network theories.

I shrugged and pointed left and then right.

Remi nodded and pointed to the door on the right first. He took the gear bag from me and winked as he headed to the left door.

I took up position at the panel on the right door while Remi stood at the panel on the left. He pulled out a few tools from the bag. Nonsense tools, from the looks of it. Nothing he produced would disrupt the algorithm or let him pick the isotope lock. At best, they might let him cut through the door in a few days, assuming nothing broke or shorted on him.

He saw me watching him and gave me a stern look, then he gave me the signal for eyes forward and pointed at my door. A moment later, he sparked up a cutting torch and the bulkhead on his side slammed shut.

At a loss for how to proceed, I worked my way through the conversation with the manager in the lobby below. He seemed to be telling Remi something. For that brief moment, they also acted like they had seen each other before, or at least knew a call sign to recognize each other. His parting words were incongruous with the rest of his language. I checked my own sleeve.

There was a small metal strip there. I pulled it out and found that it opened. Inside was a small patch meant to be attached to the wrist, so I pressed it on and then placed my thumb and pinky on the indentations on the panel. The door slid open. I walked by and it slid into place behind me.

Now in the inner office, but devoid of any tools, I started hunting around for the ID card. There were several desks, all empty, and a row of filing cabinets against the wall. I inspected the filing cabinets and found that each of them had a panel similar to the one on the door. Again, I pressed my thumb and pinky into the indentations, and one after another, the cabinets opened. I found the target ID, put it in my jumpsuit, and ran back to the hallway. Another touch took me back through the prototype door and into the outer office. I made it to the sealed bulkhead that was trapping Remi in time for the security guards and manager to emerge from the elevator.

The guards were smiling, but the manager was practically giddy. I hadn’t removed the device from my wrist, so I put my hand deep in my pocket and did my best to look caught and upset.

They came into the outer office and were audibly laughing. The manager pointed to me. “I wish we had been able to record you. The look on your face when that bulkhead came down and separated you. Oh boy. I’m surprised you didn’t wet yourself.” When I didn’t respond, he said, “Oh, don’t be like that. Fine, just keep your hands in your pockets and touch nothing while we get your dad out.”

The other guards were working on punching in the code and keying open the door. “Stand back, kid. No reason for you to get exposed to this.” The other guard opened a metal box on his belt and pulled out a large key. He fitted it into the lock and turned, and the bulkhead slid away.

Beyond it, Remi was doing his best to look scared and surprised. He was also trying to shove tools into the gear bag and cover what he had been using at the same time.

“Don’t bother,” said one guard. “Nothing you have there worked. Who cares if we see it?”

“I take my work seriously,” Remi said in an unaffected tone. “I’m not letting you take our secrets.”

The guards laughed again. “The only secret here is you’re going to be out of a job when your whole company goes down. Chrysalis has the edge now.”

Remi finished shoving everything in the gear bag and came into the outer office. “C’mon kid, we’ve been humiliated enough tonight.”

The manager gave a dismissive wave but then followed us into the elevator. He called back to the guards, “You finish resetting here, I’ll escort them out.”

We boarded the elevator, and the doors closed.

Remi stood quietly in the corner and I kept my hands jammed into the pockets of my jumpsuit. After a few floors, the manager spoke up. “No recording devices in here. You did great.”

Remi nodded. “Everything as planned.”

The manager looked to me. “Good idea using the kid. Tossed all their suspicion. Hey, kid, don’t ever let anyone know you have that thing. Destroy it as soon as you’re out of here. We’re talking major corporate espionage charge.”

We reached the lobby. As we walked out, the manger put on a show for any prying eyes. “Your dad here is probably getting the ol’ pink slip tomorrow. Better hold on to your savings. Goodbye and thanks for playing.”

We stored our gear back in the transport and took off.

When we were a few blocks out, Remi started talking. “Good work catching onto the plan. Evelyn wasn’t sure you had the acting to pull it off, so we kept you in the dark, but I knew you would figure it out. If you’re wondering, the manager will play the stock on Chrysalis and invest in Klemtite before he defects over there. They’ll take a huge hit when it gets out how easy their prototype is to defeat, but for now, they will look strong.”

I considered the small patch on my wrist and the ramifications of having it. I had no intention of destroying it, no matter the risk. I needed to know what it was before I made any decision.

Remi’s point about the manager, though—that struck a chord. People always did their worst when they thought they had won. For my Canton plan to work, I had to make him feel like he was in charge. I would have to gain his confidence and then give him the wrong answers as an apology. He would never doubt what I sold to him.

* * *

Despite the weight of the major puzzle being lifted and my plan for Canton well underway, I found it difficult to sleep. I had a nagging ache in my thoughts about how things were going. The initial thrill I had felt overcoming the challenges in a heist had faded. The puzzles had occupied me for a time, but now I was out of things to do.

The loss of Vance and the need to see Canton pay for his actions ran deep, but it wasn’t enough. I struggled to put the pieces of my drive together.

As I tossed in bed, I went back to the question Mr. Black had asked me about my future. I’d had more time to consider the answer and still I had nothing satisfying. My talks with Vance and Remi had made it clear that shaping a future was more important than choosing one.

I got on the network and patched a message through Vance’s empty room to Evelyn. I wanted a distraction and hoped she would have something to give me.

Do you have anything? I’m sure you heard about the recent job. Went smoothly. Looking for something more challenging. – A

I stared at the screen for some time, going back and forth between willing a response out of the cosmos and trying to relax so I could sleep.

Finally, a message came through.

Open communication? You know better than that. Nothing going on for now. Bigger gears in motion. Everything will come together. Relax and save energy. You will need it for the future. – E

I turned off the pad and stared at the dark ceiling. Everything was going too well and not well enough. I should have been content but wasn’t. I resigned myself to not knowing, for now. Eventually, sleep came.

19

The next several weeks were busy but unfulfilling. Per the plan, I began showing off in biology and chemistry classes.

These were the classes I shared with Canton. I was quick to comment about how simple and obvious all of the answers were. I even responded to a few questions before they were fully asked to give the impression that I knew something beyond the in-class information.

My days continued this way for a time. Meanwhile, my nights were filled with planning as I, along with Evelyn and Remi, continued executing small and profitable jobs.

* * *

After nearly a week, Evelyn had cleaned up a lot of Winston’s place. The dirt was gone, and the apartment no longer carried a heavy lived-in odor.

“You are infiltrating an industrial fabrication complex,” explained Evelyn, shortly after Remi and I had taken our seats. “You’ll be making a few tools with their machines. I need you to erase the recordings, of course.”

The industrial fabrication plants were in the industrial sectors to the west of the academy. The streets in the area hummed and shook with the vibrations of machinery processing, pressing, and manufacturing. The industrial sector took up almost eighty percent of the power produced in the city. On Meridian, there was never any end to the transports arriving with raw materials and finished goods being pumped back out.

We arrived in a nondescript transport filled with a couple of block resources. Different chunks of materials we would use to refill the stock at the fabricator. Guards patrolled the outside of the building in force. We parked a distance from our target and walked in, watching for gaps.

“What makes this easy,” began Remi as he drove us through the street and toward the factory, “are the protocols inside the building. Rent-a-guards don’t have the clearance to see the innards of the fabrication plants, so we have to rely on a power outage to trick the sensors. Evelyn has been arranging meetings here for the past few days with a—well, let’s call him a gentleman.” He chuckled. “She used the opportunity to convince him to do a favor for her and sabotage the grid. We’ll be able to slip in and out without a problem.”

I struggled under the heavy bag of raw materials. It was far heavier than the usual gear bag for break-ins. Good thing I’d invested in myself with exercises on the track.

Remi was on his headset again, and I was safely concealed in my coat.

Guard patrols covered the area out to a 50-yard perimeter. It was a difficult jog with nearly 100 pounds of raw materials, but when Remi gave the signal I made a break for it and arrived at the building without being seen.

It was my first time working a clicker in the field. I had practiced on some test locks before, but there was always a difference from practice to actual application. The power dropped exactly when Evelyn said it would, though it took me longer than I would have liked to clear the door. Still, I managed to enter within the allotted time.

I waited inside the darkened factory for Remi’s signal. It came seven minutes later—a few light knocks. I opened the door and he was in. He placed his bag next to mine and we made our way to the fabrication unit in question.

It took us another minute to link up a dummy terminal, which fed the necessary schematics to be fabricated into the machine.

Remi hit the activation sequence and pulled up a chair. “This could be a while. No reason we can’t have a chat.”

I took another seat and stretched my legs. “Do you know what we’re building here?”

Remi smirked. “I thought you knew. This is all part of your plan, I’m told.”

“What plan?” I asked.

Remi frowned. “C’mon, kid. All of this work you’ve been doing solving Evelyn’s little puzzles? She’s clearly pumping you for information to get free legwork out of you. I would complain, but it’s good training.”

I paused, quickly going over everything I had done so far with her. The first puzzle had been a test. She wanted to know how quickly I could come to a conclusion they had already found. From there, she had started putting me to tasks that she didn’t have answers for but wanted to save time in finding. I ran back through the list in sequential order, trying to determine which of my solutions we might currently be using. After a few seconds, I returned my eyes to Remi. “You installed the cameras in the engineer’s apartment?”

Remi nodded. “Yeah. That was good thinking, made my job low-risk.”

“Do you know what she was working on?” I asked.

Remi shook his head. “No. I know she had a dozen degrees, so figuring out exactly what she might have been doing would only be a guess.”

The process took just over three hours. When it was complete, we had three oddly shaped handles.

We made our way to the resource bin, took out the resource blocks, and inserted new ones according to the readout on the dummy terminal.

I was back in my room barely an hour later. We had just constructed the control mechanisms for the box in the complex.

* * *

The next day at school, I made a show of being depressed and angry in the hallway when I knew I would pass by Canton. I brooded my way through class, rarely volunteering answers but always offering the right ones when I did. He was increasingly watchful of me but didn’t approach.

* * *

The next week, Evelyn gathered us at Winston’s place again. All of his furniture was gone, replaced by cheap but sturdy rentals. The apartment felt like a facade now, but it was far cleaner than it had been. I briefly wondered what Winston would think about the changes when he returned.

“Everything you’ve been doing up to now has been in preparation for a large-scale job,” began Evelyn. “Sometime in the next few weeks, a shipment of neutronium will arrive at this facility and be held for approximately seventy-two hours before being processed. We need everything in place to capitalize on that window.”

Remi, despite himself, leaned forward and took a step towards us. “Neutronium, you say? That’s a big score. A get-the-hell-off-the-planet-afterward type of score.”

Evelyn laughed. “Yes, Remi. Astute as always,” she remarked. “You will be compensated enough from this single heist to set you up for several years, I would imagine. It will also be your final job with me. I’m sure you’ve trained Alphonse adequately by now for the task ahead, so I remain confident in our ability to complete the project.”

“What about the drilling?” I asked. “That alone will take weeks to do. If the neutronium shows up before we’re done, we’ll miss the window.” I paused. “No, that’s where Winston is. You’ve had him drilling this whole time.”

Evelyn was pleased with herself. “He’s a simple man. He doesn’t mind being in a dank hole for days and days. I took the opportunity of his absence to redecorate. Do you think he’ll like it?”

Remi scoffed. “No.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know that he’ll care. So we still have several parts of the plan to get ready?”

Evelyn dropped her smile. “Fine. All business. I was expecting at least a kind word on the décor.” She opened a box on the table and handed us each an earpiece. “Wear these at all times. When the shipment arrives, I will need to coordinate you into position quickly, no time to assemble. Alphonse, get yourself an excuse in place to leave class at a moment’s notice.”

We each took our earpiece and it buzzed in my ear as it calibrated. Afterward, I could barely feel it.

Remi worked his jaw in a circle a few times. “These things always make my ears pop. Years later and the pressure on this planet still screws with me. Put your tongue to the roof of your mouth to activate the transponder. Then whisper sub-vocally and it will transmit. Handy gizmos, but they burn out quickly.”

Evelyn showed the contents of the box, where there was a dozen more. “You’ll come back here each week for a fresh one until the job is done. As for tonight, Alphonse is correct, you are going to go cause problems with a financial office that handles the pensions for both the Union civilian maintenance workers and all the parts suppliers for the complex. One blow will cause issues with everything.”

Remi smacked the side of his head and continued to work his jaw. He looked annoyed. “We doing this clean or pinning it on somebody?”

Evelyn stroked the fabric on the sofa and looked into the air. “I’m sure you will find somebody has been skimming once you get into the specifics. Might as well give credit where it’s due.”

* * *

Accessing the financial offices was easier than any previous job. While the elevator to the office floor was guarded from the lobby and used a keyed system for access, other floors were open with the press of a button. The building in question had a garden terrace restaurant. Traffic in the elevator and moving through the building was busy for late evening.

I went in plain clothes, but Remi stuck with his usual garb. He blended into the background easily, moving only when needed and not drawing attention to himself. We went up to the restaurant and requested a table before heading back, finally entering a restroom above the target floor and dropping down through an industrial duct system.

We slipped into the office from the restroom and surveyed the area, finding a dozen desks and workstations, an outer office for reception, and an inner office belonging to the company president. Remi got to work on opening the inner office while I started looking through desks.

Most of the workstations were easy to hack, though the president had attempted an extra layer of security on her own. Notes on other terminals indicated she had created a two-part passkey that had taken her staff hours to deal with whenever she wasn’t in the office and they needed special approval. Apparently, the issue was so egregious that they had disabled the auto shut-off on her terminal several weeks ago, so it simply stopped locking. Great news for us, all things considered.

It took us thirty minutes to sift through the important files and reroute money from one company to another. It would take months for the affected businesses and personnel to detangle where the money had gone and why. We ran the initial and final transfers through the president’s terminal, which would almost certainly cause the investigation team to cast blame on the office staff. With the well-documented undermining of her fastidious security protocols, they would likely be fired, which would slow down the recovery even more.

When our work was concluded, we retreated through the ducts, back the way we came, making it in time for our reservation at the terrace restaurant.

* * *

I intensified my attitude problem in class. I started wearing clothing I’d picked up that was worn and used. It was enough to have several teachers ask me to stay after class to confirm I wasn’t having problems. I told them I was trying new things but always left it vague. The day before break, Canton finally approached me.

He sauntered up to me with a swagger that was a poor imitation of Vance’s slouched walk, which flared an anger in me. “Alphonse, isn’t it? Hey, you doing okay? Seems like things have been rough for you the last couple weeks.”

I ignored him at first and trudged down the hall, intentionally looking at my feet.

He walked in front of me and stopped short so that I had to backpedal not to run into him. “I’m not here to rub it in. I want to help you.”

I gave him a calculated look, one-part anger and one-part eager hope smothered under several parts of brooding. “I don’t need help. It’s fine.”

He put his arm around me in another unwelcome imitation of Vance’s behavior. “I know about you, y’know?”

I doubted that he knew anything more than rumors and the impressions I had spread myself. “You do?”

“Oh yeah. Look, it doesn’t matter what you did to get tossed here. I see you working hard, trying to get through classes. It’s tough when you don’t have any outside funding coming in. Yeah, the academy gives you the basics, but who really can live on that? You need those premium perks to really put in the effort, right?”

I didn’t respond.

He continued as if I had. “Yeah, you know. Well, I could help you out with that. I always have a little extra something I can spread around. It would be like a favor. Among friends.”

I felt my skin crawl with his arm around me and his voice in my ear. “Really? I . . .” I let my voice trail. “No, no. I can’t. I’m fine.”

He hooked me a little tighter. “We both know that’s a lie. Look, it doesn’t have to be a favor. You don’t have to owe me. Maybe you can do me a solid now and it won’t even be a problem.”

I brightened to that. “Yeah? I have some old clothes I can sell. Maybe a watch I’ve been holding on to.”

He shook his head. “Nothing like that. You seem to be on top of things in bio, right? Like more than just on top.”

There it was. The question I’d been waiting for.

I pretended to pull away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He pulled me in tighter and dug his other hand into my ribs. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Answering questions in class before the teacher can even finish asking. You never miss an answer. You’re an amateur at this whole thing. You’ve got access to the answers, you gotta miss some of them or it’s obvious. You’re just lucky I caught on before the teachers did.”

“Fine, I have a source,” I said, reciting the script I had been rehearsing. “Some things Vance showed me. Look, I can’t fail, and if I give you things, they’ll know.” I tried to sound panicked.

“It will be no problem. You get me the answers for the final, I slip you some cash after. You just make sure you answer more than a few wrong. Keep your score just above passing and nobody will know.”

I again tried to push free and he relented. We were outside the science building now, so I turned like I was headed back to my room. “I’ll get you what you need tomorrow. When can you get me the money?”

He laughed. “I’ll need time to go over your work first. Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you get taken care of. Trust me. We’re pals now.” He smiled, and I forced myself to do the same.

He continued following me and we traveled to my room. I had a set of “answers” there that I had prepared in advance. He came into the room and I shuffled in my desk to bring out my pad and transfer the doctored file.

He grinned at me. “You’ll see, Alphonse. This will be the best decision you ever made.”

I smiled again. “I have no doubt about that.”

* * *

That evening, the call came through the earpiece. For a moment, I thought I was thinking in Evelyn’s voice.

“The shipment is on the way. We have barely over seventy-two hours to pull this off. Get off campus, and meet Remi in the shopping area downtown. You two need to sabotage the food truck tonight. Remi will have the contaminants. Now move.”

I swapped out my disguise clothing for my heist wear and made my way off campus in a hurry.

Remi was already waiting in the parking area when I entered the shopping center. He popped out from behind a column as I entered the structure. “This way. I’ve got us a different kind of vehicle this time.”

I followed him to the roof of the garage and saw that he had taken an ice cream truck from somewhere. “Isn’t this conspicuous?”

He waved me inside. “The best way to hide is in plain sight. We’re headed to a food packaging and catering company. This will let us slip right in.”

We drove west to the southern end of the industrial area. As opposed to the heavy rumble of the central fabrication areas, the air here was filled with the not always appetizing smells of industrial food processing and production.

We pulled up to an entryway and stopped at the gate, then Remi leaned out the window to talk to the guy. “Hey, you were looking for a lost truck?”

The guard stared at the truck in confusion and then went through his records. “How did you know? Pull inside and get out of the truck. Don’t make any sudden movements. I’ve got a team coming in to talk to you.”

Remi pulled the truck in and then followed a pathway of lights to a loading dock. A group of four security guards was waiting there. He looked over to me. “How you feeling today, son?”

I grinned. “I’m good to back your play.”

Remi nodded. “You’re going to like this one. It’s a classic from ancient literature.”

Remi stopped the truck in the designated place. As soon as the engine powered down, our doors were pulled open and I was yanked out by a guard. We were brought around to the side and restrained. One guard stood by each of us while the other two started asking questions. “Where did you find this truck?”

“Me and my son saw it idling by a building downtown,” Remi answered. “There was a drunk man inside. I’ve got him in the back.”

The guards nodded to each other and made a series of hand gestures. They opened the back doors and found an unconscious man inside.

Remi interrupted before they could ask any other questions. “He looked like shit, so I put him in the back. I figured you’d miss the truck and could find out what was wrong with this guy.”

The guards looked skeptical. “You did this out of kindness? Really?”

Remi balked at that. “No. I was kind of hoping you’d give us a tour of the place. Maybe some samples? Me and the kid don’t have a lot between us and I thought this would be a way we could see some decent eats.”

Two guards pulled out the unconscious man and put him on a gurney that had been brought out. Another spoke into a commlink. “You two wait here.” They walked away, leaving one guard with us.

We didn’t have to wait long before a woman in a suit came out to greet us. “I apologize for the security staff. Missing vehicles don’t just show up every day.”

Remi laughed and shook hands with the woman after the guard lifted his restraints. “It is definitely weird. I understand.”

The woman smiled. “You and your son wanted a tour?”

Remi nodded. “I thought I would show the boy how to act proper. Help out the companies and they’ll help you, I told him.”

I nodded. “Dad’s always telling me that companies are good for us. It’s just hard to believe since he’s been out of work because they keep reducing—”

Remi cut me off. “Now, son. That’s no talk for this lady. We’re just happy to return the truck. If you are offering a tour, we’ll take it; otherwise, we’ll be on our way. We have to get to the shops if we want to scrounge up some dinner.”

The woman was all smiles and apologies. “Think nothing of it. I’ll give you a tour personally. If you will just follow me.” She excused the guards.

Remi gave me a look. “Hey, son, make sure you grab our packs from the truck.” I looked in the back and there were two hiking backpacks. Lots of small pockets all around, they were well worn but fairly clean.

“I got ‘em, Dad,” I said, doing my best to dumb down my speech.

The tour lasted just over two hours. We managed to distract the woman back and forth and dumped a sample of contaminants in everything we could throughout the factory. There was going to be a lot of sick people in the future, but there was no way they would notice the problem at the complex as being out of the ordinary.

20

We waited for the appropriate time window to enter the disused sewer, then took our position that night. Even with the excitement of the big job underway, I couldn’t forget my other duties back at the academy. To avoid class, I listed myself as ill, making for a reasonable excuse. This was easily accepted, since I’d yet to fall sick even a single day. I could now focus on the job at hand.

Remi and I stalked through the dark tunnels of the disused sewer system following the map provided by the decades-old plans. This proved difficult going as many places had shifted in geologic activity. We had to make our way around numerous collapsed areas. The route was tight, but we were able to squeeze through them all with our portable containment box. The trip gave me some time to practice with the control handles, though I was told during exfiltration that job would fall to Winston.

When we arrived at the work area, Remi stopped me. “Winston? It’s time. Let us in. It’s Remington.”

There was a silence in the dusty dark and then a small slash of light came out of a wall, followed by a soft beam. Winston, dirty and unwashed, waved to us from the other side of the baffle. He was as cheery as ever.

We entered the tunneling work space and I saw how Winston had been living for the past month. There was a waste bucket and spray in one corner. The rest of the space was occupied by a small cot and a mostly exhausted supply of water bottles and food ration boxes. Fuel cells littered the next chamber and the digging equipment proper.

Evelyn was right, Winston really didn’t care where he lived. Prisons for captured soldiers offered more amenities and room. Remi set down his own gear bag and cleared out a space to sit. I powered down the containment unit and sat on the bed. It smelled of Winston in a way that I was not happy about.

Remi got everyone up to speed. “Winston, we make our move in fifteen hours. You have the tunnel complete?”

Winston continued to smile his innocent, broad grin. “I’ve been working really hard when the clock strikes like Evelyn said. There is less than an hour of drilling to go. I left that so we could enter and not be seen.”

Remi nodded. “Alright. We wait until the window. From there, we punch through the wall and enter the facility. I’m on point. Alphonse, I need you sharp and ready to hand me gear as we work our way through. You have the patrols mapped out?”

I nodded.

“Good,” said Remi. “You tell us when to start and stop. Winston, your job is to guide the containment box. You need to stay near us but don’t crowd.” He stretched and settled in for a nap on the floor. “If anything goes wrong before we get the box, we retreat to here and split. If anything goes wrong after we snag the goods, we make sure Alphonse gets out with it. No matter what that means.”

I swallowed. Even with Remi’s words hanging in the air, I figured that planning for success beat worrying about failure. Still, planning for all scenarios was wise, and Remi knew that.

Winston offered me the bed, but I declined and made myself semi comfortable on the remains of ration boxes on the floor. They were somewhat springy and smelled a lot less like three weeks without a wash.

We slept in small bursts whiling away the time. At one point, we played some cards to occupy ourselves in the dim light of a few lamps. We stayed quiet, partially out of the taciturn nature of the group but also in anticipation of the job.

Finally, the clock on Winston’s nightstand beeped and we were ready. We dressed in our infiltration gear: combat-padded dark-colored clothing complete with face masks. Communication was through subvocal earpieces and there was even a several-minute air supply built into the face mask. It was uncomfortable but offered some protection for the worst scenarios.

I took a last-minute itemization of the gear while Winston and Remi powered through the last of the wall separating us from the basement of the complex.

The wall gave way and we slipped in. Winston had done well. The tunnel took us into an electrical room in the basement. I handed Remi a remote shorted interchange and he attached it to the panel. Even as we installed the pinch, the power fluctuated. The internal power was already having issues. The pinch gave us the ability to manually trigger a rolling blackout to cover our movements, and the stressed engineering created an excuse to keep our actions from alarming the personnel.

With the pinch in place, I took a look at the time and counted out the patrols in my head. This was the biggest random factor with the plan. If the guards were less than professional, their patrol times could be compromised. I was counting on sick guards to maintain protocol but be bad at what they did. It was a contradiction that I felt strongly wouldn’t be an issue. Dedication was a powerful motivator over time, but a poor motivator in the moment.

“Go.”

Remi pushed through the door and I followed a second behind. Winston came up last and we threaded our way through a corridor to our first elevator. No alarms rang out as we entered and made our way to the second floor above ground.

As it arrived, I hit the remote for the pinch. The power went out and we sat in the elevator in the sallow yellow emergency lights. I counted out two minutes and it hit again. As soon as the power was back, Remi sent the elevator down to the first floor.

We exited to the left and ran to the end of the corridor, then we watched a patrol of guards head through a set of doors in front of us. The moment they were clear, we approached the door. It was a common Chrysalis door. I worked a sniffer on the panel to locate the code while Remi used a portable chromatograph to analyze the isotope. He then inserted a pack of quick-set resin into the hole.

The sniffer found the basic algorithm for the door and I waited to signal Remi. He gave me a thumbs-up that the resin was set.

“Now!” He turned the key in the window. The door’s electronics allowed it to open and the makeshift key tripped the tumblers. The door opened, and we ran through and around another corner in time to see a new patrol entering from the end of the hallway.

From there, we entered the elevator and rode up to the fourth floor. Two more doors and we’d reached the next elevator. As we waited for a lift, an alarm sounded. I triggered the pinch and we held our breath as the power died and the backups tried to switch on. I hit the pinch again as they did, and the system reset a second time.

In theory, we were in the elevator and gone before anyone could figure out if we were real or a glitch.

That took us to the third floor and our target.

“Steady everyone,” Remi said over the earpieces.

My heart was pounding and the rush of blood in my ears made the sound distant. For all my complaints about how the thrill of the prep mission was insufficient, this was almost too much.

We exited the elevator as a natural blackout struck. Remi and I were already out of the elevator, but the doors slammed shut automatically behind us. Winston shoved the containment unit through the door and dove forward. His foot got caught in the door. He turned red, containing a scream as the military-grade doors started to crush his foot.

Remi jumped at the door and fought for a tool on his harness. “Did you hit the pinch?” He jammed a strip of a red gummy substance on the upper section of the door. “Get back! Winston, pull!”

An explosion shoved the doors slightly apart and Winston freed his foot. The ceramic plating in the armor had cracked and splinters of it fell to the floor. He got to his feet and hobbled along.

Things were starting to go wrong. The sound also alerted a patrol. We could hear the pounding feet coming toward us. With no way to reenter the elevator and several bulkheads on standby, we were exposed.

“Any ideas?” Remi said.

I scoured through my mental map of the area. “Monitoring room, that door.”

Remi had a clicker out before we got to the door and it was open a moment later. We shoved the containment unit through and shut it behind us. Remi had his gun drawn in his other hand. The monitoring room could contain up to three technicians at any time but always had a minimum of one staff. Nobody was inside. We watched a warning light flick on the panel and a repeating video of us at the elevator. Remi cleared the footage and disabled the alert.

A voice echoed through a restroom door. “Hey, Carmichael? Did you find out what that alert was?” The voice was pained and stopped halfway through the sentence to deal with an evacuation out of one side or the other.

“It’s fine,” I called out. “Just more resets from the power.”

“You okay? You sound muffled.”

“I’m picking up something.” I coughed. “I hope nobody else is getting it.”

We watched through the monitor as a team of guards hit the elevator and inspected the area. One pointed to the scorched section of the door and another noticed the shards on the floor. A light blinked on the panel for an incoming message.

“Can you deal with that, Carmichael? I’m . . . ugh . . . going to need another minute.”

I approached the console. “You got it.” I hit the receiver. “What do you need?”

“This is patrol unit 7-Delta, you see what happened here?”

“Maintenance was working on the door when the power came offline. Slammed shut and broke a tool. Nearly tore his hand off. I’ve got him in here for basic care.”

“Does he need an escort out?”

“Negative. He’s fine, just spooked. Soon as the power is back on, we’ll get the hall cleared.”

“Sounds good. 7-Delta out.”

We waited for the group to clear the hallway and continued along our way. The power kicked back on as we approached the final hallway to our destination.

One more Chrysalis door and we were in the antechamber. From here, we had no way of knowing what the vault door to the actual box would be like. No amount of digging revealed what that was made of or how it was accessed.

Remi lined the edges with more of the red gummy substance he had. “Everyone back. We’re blowing this and then finding the fastest way out. Alphonse, the moment I hit it, we need to knock out the power. Got it?”

“Copy. Ready when you are.”

He stepped back to the edge of the room and pushed us behind him. “Mark.”

The vault door fizzled for a brief moment as I hit the pinch. The lights went off, but it remained bright in the room as the explosive seared the edges of the vault door. It burned white hot and I shut my eyes for a few long seconds. When I opened them again, my vision was still splotchy.

The door fell inward, smashing into a staging table. A leg of the table slammed me in the side of the head. I went down tasting copper and feeling dizzy. Remi moved to help me, but I waved him off. “Nothing broken,” I managed to say. “Get the stuff.”

Winston navigated the containment unit into the vault and moved it into position. He and Remi pulled on protective gloves and together the two pulled several containers out of the larger vault storage unit and fitted them into the portable one. The power came on again and an alarm was ringing. I hit the pinch and nothing happened.

“Remi, I’m getting nothing from the pinch.”

“Don’t worry yet. The interference in the vault and the explosion could have scrambled it. Proceed as normal. Let’s move!”

They came out of the vault and we formed up again, this time with Remi at point and me taking up a position behind Winston and the containment unit.

As we entered the hallway, I saw that we were in trouble. The lights were all on and alarms were blaring. I hit the pinch a few times and got no response. Worse, the bulkheads had come down in front of us.

Remi paced in front of the door. It seemed like we had come so far only to be trapped. We had only three options. Try to get through the doors back the way we came, which was slow and we were limited on the materials for defeating the isotope locks. We could go back to the vault, which was pointless. Or we could divert our route further into the complex.

I explained the options to Remi.

“Is there any route out if we go further in?” he asked.

“It goes into some of the third-wave upgrades,” I said. “So I don’t know what we’ll face, but there is a route that gets us back to the basement.”

Remi nodded. “Let’s move.”

We continued down the hallway and accessed an elevator, which took us up to the fifth floor. The elevator opened and we found ourselves in a dark hallway. The power outages seemed to be contained to this floor only as the elevator was still working on a redundancy.

We moved to the next intersection and found a closed bulkhead door. Remi swore and dropped into a combat firing stance. “This is where we start into the at-all-costs plan. No other way.”

I noticed that the door blocking our way was one of the new Chrysalis prototypes. “I think we’re okay. I can get us through this.”

Remi frowned as I pulled out the device. “I told you to get rid of that thing. No telling what tracers or backdoors are in it. Dammit, kid.”

The power came back on and I pressed my thumb and pinky on the pad. The door opened. “You can yell at me later. Right now, this is our way out.”

We broke into a run then, staying just in front of another patrol. We worked our way to the elevator and back down to the second floor. From there, we only had to work through one more hallway to the first elevator. Alarms rang out again and an all-units was called on the vault. We only had to wait for the halls to clear before I opened the last door between us and the elevator. We were down and out into the tunnel in under five minutes.

We had done it.

* * *

We moved the containment unit to Winston’s Klemtite company transport and made our way to a warehouse location. Evelyn was waiting for us. She gave us a flirty wave as we opened the transport and brought out the containment unit.

“Oh my, look at this. My three favorite people and the box of my dreams. Well done, everyone. Now open it up, let me check the goods.”

Winston pulled the lid off the unit and Remi handed her a pair of protective gloves. We stood back as she carefully lifted and inspected each canister.

“All of our dreams are coming true now. We’ll split up and return here in two days. That will be enough time for the majority of the heat to die down. I have a buyer lined up that will meet us then. Now everyone get home and get some rest.” She seemed to actually notice us for the first time since seeing the box. “Especially you, Winston. Go take showers until the meet. Yeech.”

She didn’t seem to notice the way he limped or the way I tilted my head. Still, when it came to a score this big, anyone could get dizzied by the numbers.

21

Remi dropped me off a block from the academy’s fence line, allowing me to sneak back inside. Before he let me out, he took a moment to give me a once-over. “Looks like you got clipped pretty good. That is why we wear armor into a job like that. Without the helmet and goggles, you could have suffered a fracture. Solid pupil response, so I don’t suspect a concussion. It will bruise up, but you’ll be fine. You got an excuse to cover this shit when you get to class?”

I grinned and grimaced a bit with the pain of the action. “I have something in place, yeah.”

He let me out of the transport and drove off.

I entered campus and snuck into my room through the recently fixed external hallway door. Nobody saw me enter.

I sent a message to Manson and Gil. You will both be called into the headmaster’s tomorrow. No matter what, just agree that you saw Canton do it. Add no details and offer no reasons. Just repeat those words and you’ll be front row for what happens after.

Only one thing left to do, and Canton would be dealt with. I checked myself in the mirror before going to sleep. It looked like I had been clubbed severely on the one side. Despite the pain, I didn’t apply ice or take anything. I needed to look as terrible as I could for the next part.

Even with the pain, it was easy to sleep. I was exhausted from the adrenaline rush of the job and the promise of action the following day.

* * *

I awoke the next day and intentionally missed my first few classes. By midday, Maevik was at the door. “Alphonse? You gave yourself a sick note yesterday, but we haven’t heard anything. If you don’t open the door, I’m authorized to enter. Please open up.”

I stumbled to the door in my underclothes and opened it. I hadn’t showered from the heavy equipment and the night in the tunnel. I played up the pain as best I could. Given her past as a field medic, my injuries wouldn’t hold up to much scrutiny if I overdid it.

She sat me on the bed and flashed a light in my eyes. “What happened to you? Who did this to you?”

I acted confused and embarrassed. “I can’t say. Just tell them I’m ill and need a few days. Please?”

She shook her head. “I’m not going to let this go. Somebody attacked you. You have to tell me who.”

I put up one more attempt. “I don’t want trouble. Just let it go, I’ll be fine.”

She pulled me from the bed and shook me a bit. “Alphonse, I can’t let you sit here like this.”

Now for the hard part. I looked her in the eye. “Give me a minute to get dressed, then I need you to escort me to Headmaster Whiles. I’ll tell him everything.”

She nodded and took a step back, realizing for the first time that I was barely dressed. “Alright. I’ll be outside. You have a minute, then I’m right back in here. One minute.”

The door closed and I got dressed in a hurry. There was no pushing the matter further now. I opened the door and Maevik walked me to the headmaster’s office. Classes were in session, so nobody saw me enter. Maevik sat me down and talked to the assistant and then ushered me into the headmaster’s office. I didn’t say a word the whole time.

Headmaster Whiles gasped in shock when he saw me. “Oh my. This is worse than I thought. You said injury. I didn’t expect this level of assault. Alphonse, who did this to you?”

I looked at the clock. The bio final was just starting. I suppressed a smirk and looked at the headmaster with my best approximation of fear and worry. “It’s about this.” I turned on my data pad and transferred the fake test answers to him. “The student—and I’m not naming anyone—that answers the bio final with these answers threatened me. He’d hurt me if I didn’t give him the answers.” I summoned a few tears and a choked a little. “I gave him fake answers and he’s going to be so mad when he finds out. Check the tests and do something. Don’t let him hurt me. I said nothing.”

I hid my face in my hands and sobbed the best I could. The headmaster stepped out with Maevik. I could hear them talking about solutions and evidence and so on. I overheard them mention Manson and Gil. Everything was ready now.

Manson and Gil were brought into the office. They took a look at me and the moment they saw my face they both started yelling.

“Canton did it!” said Manson, jamming an oversized pudgy finger at me. “I saw him.”

Gil chimed in. “It was out back of the dorms. Canton did it.”

I used my frustration with their adlibs to get in an extra painful sob.

Headmaster Whiles sent for Mr. Aldwell, the bio teacher, and Canton. Gil and Manson sat next to me and I whispered to them, “Just stay quiet and let it happen from here.”

They nodded, forgetting that they were supposed to be subtle.

Mr. Aldwell came in next.

“Do you have the record of the test answers for today’s final?” Whiles asked.

Aldwell admitted he did. “I’ve just sent them to your pad. I didn’t see anyone doing anything in the test. The only abnormal thing was the absence of Alphonse for the second day in a row.” He saw me then and also gasped. “I see. Well. Nothing unusual, then.”

Canton came in next. He gave me a look and then moved on to Manson and Gil. He reacted immediately. “They’re lying. Whatever they say, they got no proof. No way I did any of it.”

Headmaster Whiles projected the comparison between the fake answers I gave and Canton’s test results. “Why are you the only student who answered every question wrong and also answered every question identically to this forged answer sheet?”

Canton glared at the headmaster then at me. “You? You’ll pay for this. My father is a powerful man. You won’t get away with any of it.”

Maevik grabbed Canton and kept him from lunging at me.

Manson and Gil started shouting. “We all know it was you. You’re out of excuses.”

Maevik dragged him out of the office and restrained him.

Headmaster Whiles shook his head. “I’m sorry, Canton. With evidence like this, I have no choice but to immediately remove you from Quintell Academy. You will be put on a transport and your parents contacted. As this is the end of the term, it is unlikely you will be allowed to finish. That will be dealt with by your new school.”

Canton fought through a few different emotions. He was angry and confused and scared. The bottom had just dropped out of his whole world. Everything he thought about himself was slipping away.

Standing where he could see me, I slouched against the wall and gave him my best Vance impression, then I winked.

* * *

I spent the rest of that day at the clinic getting cleaned up. They confirmed it was just a bruise and no hairline fracture or concussion, then they gave me some anti-inflammatory meds for the swelling. I returned to my room, and the following day I was excused from classes to avoid any revenge plots from Canton’s friends and associates. They probably also wanted to hide my face from the rest of the students. I used the time to catch up on the work of the last few days.

I had time to rest before the meet later in the day. All in all, I felt great. We had pulled off a lucrative heist without getting caught, hurting anyone, or losing anyone. I had sealed Canton’s fate and gotten revenge for Vance.

I thought about what that meant now, in the aftermath. What did I do now that I had succeeded at everything I had set out to do? These thoughts kept me occupied until I snuck out of campus and headed to the meet.

* * *

I took a transport to a restaurant a few blocks from the meet and then walked over. Traveling inconspicuously was difficult when you couldn’t drive. If I was going to keep up this business, I would need to solve the question of transportation.

I walked into the abandoned warehouse and made my way to the meeting room. I entered to see Remi already inside, posted up against a wall and eyeing me, as always. Winston was sitting on a box next to what I assumed was the containment unit covered in tarps and sheets.

I didn’t see Evelyn.

Remi gave me a nod. “Any word?”

“Just me. I didn’t see any transports outside. Winston, did you come with Evelyn?”

Winston stared at his hands and seemed disconnected from the room. He looked up. “She said she’d be late. She was having a drink with someone important. She likes to have drinks with important people.”

I nodded. That sounded typical except that she was always on time to meetings that she set.

Remi popped off the wall, gun in hand. I saw the movement and then heard a trio of boots pounding their way through the warehouse.

Three Union officers came in behind me, guns drawn. I stumbled backward and landed near Remi’s feet. “You’re under arrest for crimes against the Union and its citizens. Get down now!”

“Like hell!” Remi opened fire. The two on the right and center dropped as his shots cut straight through their armor. The one on the left managed to dodge to the side and get behind a pillar. I was scrambling to figure out what had just happened, while Winston held his hands over his ears and ducked down.

Remi scanned for the third officer.

Another set of shots rang out and I felt Remi go down almost on top of me. The officer came out from behind the pillar and leveled the gun. “Don’t move!”

I froze. Remi’s gun was straight ahead and still smoking from the discharged rounds.

Winston stood up and screamed. The officer pivoted toward him and I took the opportunity.

I scooped up the weapon and fired three times. The first missed, far to the right. The second landed in the center of the officer’s chest. The third clipped through the top of his shoulder.

He dropped, a hard smack as his helmet hit the floor.

I stared at him for longer than I knew before finally swallowing. I tightened my shaking hands, clenching my fingers as I tried to steady myself. “Are you alright, Winston?”

I turned to him, only to find him running toward me. Winston wrapped his arms around me and began carrying me away from the warzone.

“E says I should leave now,” he told me as he held onto me. “I have to leave, Alphonse. Have to kill you quick.”

It only took me a moment to see the earpiece. He must have been in communication with his sister the entire time. “W-Wait, Winston—” I tried to angle my mouth away from his chest. “What are you doing?”

He wrapped his hands around my neck and squeezed. “E says I have to, Alphonse. I don’t want to, but she says you can’t come. Sorry.”

“W-What?” I asked.

His arms tightened around me and I struggled to breathe, virtually powerless against the large simpleton. My head whirled and I could barely see past the red splotches in my vision. As I lost the sensation in my cheeks, my neck, and my shoulders, something in me flared—a deep fear that I could not resist, and I fired another set of shots, no thought to it at all.

The gun clicked on the third round.

The pressure on my throat eased up and I took a few haggard breaths before managing to wiggle my way free.

Winston’s hands went to his shoulder. There was blood from where I’d shot him.

The giant groaned, all his attention diverted to his wound. I regained myself and, wavering on my feet, managed to pull out his earpiece.

I shuffled away from him and put the comm in my ear, working my jaw for a moment, trying to get it to engage. “Evelyn?”

“Oh, Alphonse. Did you survive?” she asked. “Where’s my brother?”

I ignored the question, quickly turning over the situation in my head and readjusting myself. A few seconds later, I cleared my throat. “So, you’re taking the prize for yourself.”

“Of course, I am. Did you think I would really split this fortune with a Renegade and a student? Please. My plans are too grand for that.”

The world was spinning in more ways than one. “I’ll find you.”

“Alphonse, I’m already off-planet with my prize. You, on the other hand, will either be in a cell or dead by the end of the night. You might want to start running.”

“Evelyn, you don’t get to just walk away from this. I won’t allow—”

She laughed. “Go away now, boy.”

The line went dead.

“Evelyn? Evelyn!” I barked.

I could hear sirens nearby. Even if I wanted to run, there was nowhere to go.

A grunt came from nearby. It was Remi, blinking on the ground. I ran to him, quickly ripping a piece of cloth from his shirt and pressing it into the open gunshot wound to apply pressure. “How many fingers am I holding up?” I asked. “Can you hear my voice?”

He reached a hand into the air and I grabbed it. “Did the bitch fuck us?” he asked, a garble in his throat. “I should’ve known better than to trust her. The cute ones always—”

“Hold on, Remi. They’ll be here to arrest us, but they’ll give you medical attention. Just be still,” I told him, the words falling out of me.

“Hey, kid,” he said, reaching for my hand. “Give me my gun.”

“What?” I asked, looking down at the weapon.

“It’s proper to die with your gun,” he muttered, then gave me a knowing look. “And you can’t be holding it when they get here.”

“But, you—”

“I’m tired,” he said, his eyes dropping a little. “Wish I had a pillow.”

I shoved the gun into his hand. “Just hold on.”

“Be good, Alphonse,” he said, his tired eyes drifting as he lost sight of me. “Be better than me.”

Epilogue

I sat in a dark room with a single overhead light.

I should have seen this coming.

All that time spent thinking about how to present myself, what other people did or thought, and how I ought to be. I was attentive, saw all the things that no one else could see.

But I didn’t see this.

I thought about every interaction I’d had with Evelyn and how she had manipulated me.

A voice came through a speaker somewhere at the periphery of the darkness. “Prisoner, you will be moved shortly. Remain where you are.”

I sat in the dark for a long time.

* * *

Four days later, guards came to my cell. It was, as I’d imagined, bigger than the space that Winston lived in for a month digging that tunnel. It was about the same size as my dorm room with many of the same amenities. Prison and school were only different in what produced the stretches of boredom.

The guard banged on my door. “Prisoner! Hands!”

I put my hands through the slat in the middle of the door and felt shackles snapping into place. The door opened and I was escorted through the hallways and into a small white room. It was neutrally lit and almost pleasant in comparison to the gray industrial décor of the rest of the prison. A man I recognized was already seated inside.

The guard opened the door and sat me down. He shackled my hands to the table and turned to the man. “I’ll be right outside.” Then he left and we were alone.

The man was old, whip thin, and dressed in an immaculate suit. I had met him once as Mr. Black the day before my transfer to Quintell.

He smiled at me. “Hello again, Mr. Malloy. Nice to see you. I’m Malcolm Shaw.”

I shrugged. The action sent ripples of pain through my fractured eye socket and bruised face. Winston might have been impressed to know that the injury he’d given me still ached. I wondered where he was right now.

“That’s one lie you’ve admitted to,” I said. “So much for Mr. Black.”

Shaw smiled. “Yes, well, that was part of the job. I’m sure you understand.”

“What brings you here today?” I asked, getting straight to the point. “Sending me to another school?”

The old man laughed. “We’ll see about that,” he said. “I heard reports about the activities you and your cohorts have been up to. I was rather surprised when I heard one of Evelyn’s accomplices was still alive. Actually, two. We picked up the brother. He corroborated much of your story. Of course, he begged for a deal. For an idiot, he certainly knew his rights.”

I watched the man carefully, as I had in the headmaster’s office months ago.

“We know you came up with the plan that successfully thwarted our security and led to the theft of the neutronium,” he said. “Some people used the word mastermind when describing that type of position. What nobody can seem to figure out is why you did it. A well-mannered student with exceptional grades and a bright future, plenty of money in their personal account. Care to explain?”

I remained silent.

“You didn’t need the money,” he went on. “You had nobody to benefit with your actions. You, as far as we know, don’t have a cause to fight for. Why did you do it? What did you hope to gain?”

I considered the answers I had been preparing to his original question about the future. The way that Vance and Remi talked about shaping a world through action. Making choices. I had never longed for any of those things. Not when it all came down to it. Not when I reflected on my choices. I’d spent the last few days in a cell with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, and in that time, I had found solitude to be a powerful incentive for reflection.

“I did it for the puzzles,” I answered, knowing as I said the words that it was the truth. “I wanted to beat the challenges Evelyn presented. I wanted to let Canton know that he couldn’t get away with something because he had power or influence. I wanted to show everyone that I saw through them. That I knew things about them. That the truth was there, I only had to look. I wanted to prove that I shaped the world around me with that truth.”

Shaw leaned forward in his chair. “I saw something in you back at the school. It was the second time your name had come across my desk. You have an intuitive nature for figuring people out but no discipline. I sent you to Quintell to keep an eye on you. And in three months, you both thwarted and exceeded my expectations. I had hoped to use you to expose Evelyn’s scheme, but you ended up instrumental in its execution.”

I said nothing.

His eyes lingered on me for a long moment, and like Evelyn before him, I could not tell what this man was thinking. He pulled out a card and slid it across the table to me, then flipped it over. The card had a strange symbol on it—an upside-down triangle with a circle inside and a line running through it. “Have you heard of the Constable Program, Alphonse?” the old man finally asked.

The question caught me by surprise, and I stared at the card, searching my memory for it. I had seen it in places, including news reports and different books regarding the Union and certain military exploits across the galaxy, but never had I made the connection. Never had I found the word Constable anywhere near it. “I know it exists,” I said, recalling an article I had come across, perhaps six months back, and a few vague references to the program itself. “I understand that the Constables are a powerful arm of the Union’s military, though their exploits are high classified. Nobody can say for certain who they are or specifically what they do.”

Shaw smiled again. “Astute and spoken with the same blunt charm as everything you say. I know you can deceive and conceal that charm when you want. I saw you do so with Canton.”

“It was for the truth.”

Shaw chuckled. “Indeed. The Constables are intelligence officers of the Union.  They have access to information and resources beyond what you may imagine. They work to unravel mysteries and plots with staggering consequences and unparalleled difficulty. They solve puzzles, in short.”

I leaned forward. “I knew you weren’t a school administrator.”

“Did you, now?” he asked with a half-smile.

“I suspected there was a lie in play but couldn’t see how to get to the truth. I just didn’t know how I knew it.” I paused. “It’s always been that way.”

Shaw was quiet for a moment, eyeing me with a look of cold examination. “You have talent, Alphonse. A natural ability that goes beyond that of most others.” He paused again. “But you lack the training to understand it.”

I considered the point. “How do I know any of it?”

“You see things you aren’t fully cognizant of. People behave in many ways, from the acute to the obtuse. You read into their layers and come up with precise conclusions. Micro-expressions, behaviors, word choice—tiny pieces added up to form a person. Through this, you can see their true selves, their lies, their falsehoods. It is a rare gift, and it is something that the Constables know all too well.”

I said nothing, not certain of how to even react. Here was a man like me, I realized, and he had been since the start.

He walked behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “You have more raw instinct than many agents have after years of training. Think of how much farther you could reach if you learn intentionally. If you are guided and challenged.”

I tried to ignore the unfamiliar touch and kept staring straight ahead. “You think I can learn all of that? What would be the point?”

Shaw let go of my shoulder and walked back to the other side of the table. “You don’t have to care about the fate of the Union. You don’t have to care about yourself. But I know that you care about people. Your actions in protecting Manson and Gil, your revenge for Vance’s expulsion, the way you refused to blackmail Whiles. Causes are not important to you, that’s fine. Causes are nothing but aggregations of people in motion. As long as you care about people, the Union has a use for you. I have a use for you.”

I considered the pitch and made a decision. “Remi’s family didn’t deserve the Union. If I help, I want two things.”

Shaw brightened. “I love a bargain established from an uneven position. What do you have for me?”

“I want to see Evelyn answer for what she’s done. I promised her that. I also want your assurances that if I find any corruption within the Union, you’ll help me put an end to it.”

Shaw replied without missing a beat. “Evelyn will be found,” he said, no doubt in his voice. “She’ll leave a trail and we will follow, rest assured. As for your second request, if you ever happened upon corruption and didn’t speak out about it, I would be remiss to think you are the person I see before me now.” He smiled. “And I’m so rarely wrong.”

“Good,” I remarked. “What now?”

“Learn and train,” he told me. “Become a Constable.”

“I’ll do it,” I said, a rising heat in my chest as I spoke the words.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” he said, standing to his feet. “But it will take time, Alphonse, and there is still so much that you must learn.”

* * *

Alphonse Malloy’s story continues in The Constable Returns, available now on Amazon.

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The Constable Returns

1

Three hundred and fifty-three days had come and gone since I was given a choice to join the Constables or be sentenced for my careless actions on Meridian. In that time, I had grown substantially and now stood nearly 1.8 meters tall. Unfortunately, I still lacked the brawnier muscle definition some of my peers had developed. My newfound height only served to accentuate this, and though I’d become trimmer, I still bordered on gangly.

Due to my less-than-average physique, some of the other Constables-in-training treated me like a Greenie—a recruit still in their probationary phase. It was an inauspicious observation, given the condescension in their voices and looks of disdain. I think their aversion was fueled by the fact that I was unmoved by their attempts to upset me. The only thing that did annoy me was that their jeering tended to disrupt my studies, but I told myself this was temporary, so long as I remained patient and gave it enough time.

Such was the case with any problem, I had found. No matter the issue, enough time and patience could resolve it.

Shaw had certainly kept up his end of the bargain, just as he had promised during our previous meeting in that interrogation room on Meridian after my arrest. In exchange for an acquittal for my part in the neutronium heist, murder of a Union soldier, conspiracy to commit grand theft, and several other charges, I was trained to take my place among the elite Constable agents that protected the Union from internal and external threats.

I had to admit, it was an exceptional offer. In hindsight, I had come to understand my many mistakes. My desire to be challenged had almost led me down a road with no return. Having innate intelligence and a natural gift for observation did not equal wisdom, as evidenced by my previous lack of foresight. I should have known Evelyn would betray us.

The most valuable lesson I learned didn’t come from Evelyn’s treachery, my failure to predict it, or even Remi’s subsequent death. No, the real epiphany had come from Lieutenant Jameson Irvine, the Union soldier who had been felled by my hand.

As part of my acquittal, I had been ordered to observe the direct consequences of my actions. I was ordered to watch the holo recording of the Union’s death notification to Lieutenant Irvine’s widow. I’d been ready to dismiss the holo as a silly attempt with actors to evoke a sense of grief and obligation.

But I was wrong.

It was clear from Mrs. Irvine’s reaction that her grief was real. Actors, even the best ones, always had tells. It was one of the reasons I rarely watched holo films unless they featured lots of mindless action—I couldn’t help myself and always picked apart the performances. Mrs. Irvine was not performing.

I attended the funeral via holocam and witnessed the outpour of love and grief from his community, friends, and parents. Watching their grief seemed to infect me, and I felt my chest grow tight and strange.

For the first time, I knew true loss. It had come from my own hubris, and I only had myself to blame. Much as I wanted to, I couldn’t take any of it back or make it right, so I vowed to change myself by making better decisions.

Because of that, I had spent the last standard year honing my skills. The better I was at my job, the more I could change.

The more I could save.

My time in the Red Tower—the Constables’ training facility on the restricted planet Alara—had moved at an exhaustive pace. Each day was split between a sequence of tasks meant to prepare us for work in the field, both alone and in small groups. In the initial months, we were beset by rigorous amounts of testing, each one entirely different from the last. Some were complex puzzles that required logical reasoning to solve, while others called for memory recollection and educated guesses based on limited information.

One test required us to read a seemingly arbitrary selection of text, match the hidden clues to symbols, and finally arrange them in the correct orientation and order on our pads. There were no points given, but afterward the students compared their overall time to see how they had fared against one another.

Most managed to complete them in under a minute. I usually did it in half that. I was not always the highest in my class, although I hadn’t been intentionally underachieving. In fact, I didn’t have to feign ineptitude at all. I was surrounded by peers for the first time in my life. Or very nearly.

There were many practical—and interesting—lessons as well, including how to extract information from hostile and unwilling targets, how to engender trust in potential sources, and how to make snap deductions based on minimal data, something that I had been doing on my own for years.

We also received extensive training in intrusion and security breaching that made Evelyn’s heists seem downright juvenile. Unfortunately, as I’d learned after Evelyn’s duplicity, intelligence and cunning weren’t everything. To round out our tutelage, we learned personal combat and rudimentary firearms training. We were meant to resort to firearms not as a strategy, but as a cover or last resort.

I had landed myself in a Union prison because I was obsessed with solving puzzles, unable to see the bigger picture. Now I’d perfected the art of manipulation to meet a specific goal and completed my training with flying colors. All that remained was a single mission that would elevate me from Tiro to Constable. Each Tiro, the title that marked us as recruits, had to go through a trial by fire, of sorts, in which they completed a mission with their Vetus. The Vetus were Constables who had mastered their craft and were tasked with training their assigned Tiros.

It had been a month since I’d been cleared to take on this first assignment, but so far every mission had proven to be too essential to the Union to risk on an unproven agent or too easy to be a proper test.

In the meantime, I spent my days poring through intelligence report files in the Red Keep, a library data center of the Red Tower. The Red Keep housed an archive of the Constables’ most precious information and the repository of all the details of missions that had been accomplished before.

It was instructional, if a bit dry, to see how agents in the field worked, and I had nothing better to do.

As I read about a particularly interesting case from a mine takeover on a Deadlands planet called Arcadia, I was approached by another Tiro named Max Shelton. We weren’t that far apart in age—I estimated him to be maybe a year younger than me. Like myself, he had a slight frame, though he had yet to hit his own growth spurt.

Max was a Greenie, having only been around for fifty or so days, and I watched his approach with curiosity. As he drew near, I could see from the uncertain gait and hesitant look that he intended to ask a favor.

I waved, a gesture that always seemed superfluous before but that I now understood was a sign of friendliness. “Tiro Shelton, what brings you to my corner of nowhere?”

He laughed nervously at my bad joke as though he was trying to decide if I could be trusted. “I heard you were the person to talk to about… discrepancies?”

When Shelton spoke, I couldn’t help but like the sound of his voice. It was warm and had a kind of lilting drawl to it that reminded me of a cartoon I’d seen once in which farmers had to ward off a swarm of aliens.

“That depends on the discrepancy,” I told him, forcing myself to refocus.

The Tiro nodded, his face a fascinating study of moving mental gears as he regarded me before making his decision.

“I think my Vetus is doing something… illegal.” He said the last word as a whisper, as though afraid someone might hear.

Shelton’s wariness made sense now. Despite my status as an oddball, I’d gained a reputation for rooting out inconsistencies and falsehoods, both in people and data. This knowledge made most of my fellow Tiros avoid me. Still, that hadn’t stopped them from approaching me with their various problems, though I only helped when inaction outweighed the possible consequences. His accusation was a serious one and not the kind one made lightly.

I watched his body language carefully, checking for any sign of deception, and found none.

I shut off the datapad I’d been reading and made room for him to sit. “I make no promises but will do what I can to assist you, Tiro Shelton.”

He gave me a confused look but sat down.

“What is it?” I asked. “Is something I said unclear?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but you sound like an AI.”

Now it was my turn to look confused. “What do you mean?”

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard this, it just always seemed like an inane insult, one I’d ignored.

“We’re supposed to be learning to blend and—no offense—but your accent sticks out like a Sarkonian credit in a Union Station Exchange,” he explained, though not unkindly.

I considered his words and decided they made sense.

“No offense taken. Do you have something to show me?” I’d already noted he had touched a slight bulge in his jacket pocket three times as though subconsciously drawn to it.

“Yes. I know we’re not supposed to take anything from the weapons facility, but I needed proof.” Shelton glanced around the library to make sure we were alone before removing a biometric firearm attachment from his pocket and handing it to me. “I nabbed one from the requisitions bin when Range Master Hogan was fixing another Tiro’s fused weapon.”

I studied the small piece of tech without asking any questions. After a few minutes, I’d come up with a simple solution and handed it back. “I think we might be able to help each other.”

* * *

A half hour later, we made our way out of the Red Tower through the sky bridge leading to the central bastion, though it would have been faster to take the lifts down and cross through the courtyard to where the firing gallery sat in a separate building. It would have also been the easiest way to track us, had someone been looking for the missing device. Heading into the central bastion gave me the chance to spot and avoid anyone who might be tailing us.

We entered the terrace and were immediately bombarded by noise. Many areas of the sprawling compound were quiet, bordering on sites of religious contemplation, but the terrace acted as a sort of common area where everyone went to blow off steam. I found myself almost allergic to the chaos of the place and its many vices. Here, Tiro and Vetus could—for a price—find a drink, browse the many shops, or try one of the various food selections located the next level down.

Alara was one of the Union’s best kept secrets, and as such didn’t appear on any star map. Which made sense—if our many enemies knew where to find a large population of Constables, we’d be under constant attack. That meant the Red Tower and all its inhabitants were completely isolated from the rest of the galaxy. All travel to the planet was done in secret, and anyone who wasn’t a fully-fledged Constable completed the trip in a darkened room with no windows or access to the gal-net.

I took a test whiff of the air. I could recognize six distinct dishes and their synthetic variants local to five planets. From this information I was able to deduce our approximate location, and I filed the data away for later use.

Max and I headed for the autoslide that would take us the rest of the way to the facility housing all of the weapons and a large firing range for training. After my fellow Tiro’s comments about me back in the Red Keep, I observed the individuals on the terrace with marked interest. It had never occurred to me that observing the throng of Tiros around me might be a learning experience in itself.

I studied their interactions with each other and the way some of them moved through the crowd of people with remarkable ease. It reminded me of Cams Maevik, the psychometrician from Quintell, and how I’d barely been able to keep up with her. Now I tried my hand at it and began to thread my way through the crush on the autoslide, twisting and sliding into openings without drawing attention to myself until the foot traffic thinned out.

I had noticed that Max fell behind at some point and waited at a bench for him to catch up. He did a few minutes later and joined me with a look of awe.

“What?” I asked.

“You just moved through them like water.” He gestured at the mass of bodies behind us. “I couldn’t keep up!”

I didn’t understand what the big deal was and waved his admiration away. “It was a simple thing.”

The other Tiro sighed loftily and slanted a look at me.

“You’re doing it again,” he said. “Normally, when someone pays you a compliment or says something positive, acceptance and saying thanks are expected. When you spout facts like that it makes you sound like a snob.”

I understood his meaning immediately and nodded. “Which would make me stand out.”

Max looked pleased that I was taking his advice and grinned. “Exactly. People don’t like it when you make them feel dumb. Watch this.”

Max seemed to transform in front of my eyes. He straightened and squared his shoulders, then arranged his features into serious lines.

“Range Master Hogan, I’m afraid I have come with regrettable news.”

I had to admit that I was impressed. The younger Tiro spoke in a clear voice that had lost all traces of the drawl, though from a slight crease in his brow I could tell it took some concentration.

“You’re pretty good at that,” I said, trying out more informal phrasing. “But what is the point?”

He shrugged, lapsing back into his other persona. “When people don’t think you’re as smart as them, they tend to get more comfortable.”

“You’re going to make an excellent Constable, Tiro Shelton,” I said.

Max chuckled. “See, I could say something like ‘so I’ve been told,’ but what people really want to hear is a simple thank you.”

We moved away from the bench and continued in to see Range Master Hogan. Inside, the sound of gunfire was barely audible due to heavy soundproofing, and it only became more apparent as we weaved our way through the hallways to the testing range.

Hogan was overseeing a group of Tiros while the man Max had brought to my attention, Vetus Lanier, showed another student how to field strip a rifle. The Vetus paused and took his personal datapad out of his back pocket, frowned at the screen, then replaced it.

I waved to Hogan and indicated I wished to speak with him. I purposely bumped into Lanier as I passed by him on my way into the range area, grabbing his pad and stowing it under my shirt.

The Rangemaster flashed me his index finger in a “hold on” gesture, then held a hand up before dropping it again. “Fire!”

The group took a collective shot across the range. None of them hit critical areas of their holo targets.

Hogan moved down the line, grudgingly helping each recruit by adjusting their stance, aim, or weapon hold. Once satisfied, he stepped to the side and held his hand up again. “Ready!” Hogan’s hand dropped again. “Fire!”

Another round of shots crossed the range. One center and three misses.

Hogan nodded sharply. “Olsen was the only one that learned from his first shot. Think before you fire. Not every weapon you come across will be intuitive, but you must find the best way to utilize it. Instincts count, but so does calculation. Practice stripping your weapons with Vetus Lanier for the next few minutes.”

He turned to me. “You need something, Tiro Malloy?”

I took a step closer and spoke quietly to better prevent the group from overhearing. It also had the side benefit of forcing Hogan to lean closer in order to hear me.

“I have sensitive information about Vetus Lanier that I need to convey.” I gestured to the Vetus covertly. “If you have a moment.”

Hogan maintained his intensity, the mainstay lack of emotion of any drill instructor. He nodded curtly to the door of his office. Max and I followed him wordlessly as he stepped to the office door, held it open, and waved us in.

“Now, what’s this about?” asked Hogan in an unassuming tone.

It struck me that he didn’t bombard me with questions or seem too uncomfortable in my presence, which pleased me.

I’d prepared my speech on the way in after studying Lanier. Three things had been immediately apparent. He was naturally pale and haggard in appearance, at least for a Constable. The dark circles under his eyes told me this was likely due to lack of sleep. Second, his fingers were discolored and his nails cracked. The observation suggested the Vetus was doing something with his hands involving chemicals. From the tone of the discoloration, I judged it to be a mixture of chromium and acetone. It was therefore a logical assumption that Lanier was stripping serials from weapons.

Finally, he had a mark on his neck just below the collar. It was a peak patch, a synthetic combat drug used to keep soldiers alert through static duty assignments. The patch secreted growth hormones that revitalized muscle tissue to prevent atrophy from sitting in cramped spaces for long intervals.

With my analysis completed before I walked into the office, I felt sure of what I was about to say.

“Rangemaster Hogan, before I make an accusation, I need to confirm that you’ve been derelict in your own duties.”

The always intense Hogan flashed a redder shade and his limbs trembled with the force of his restraint before he got himself under control, crossed his arms, and fixed me with a hard look.

Max coughed discreetly and I realized my mistake.

“That is to say, there may well be inconsistencies in the facility’s records.”

Hogan regarded me with thinly veiled anger for a moment before speaking. “For any other Tiro I would count those words as expulsion-worthy. But I know about you and your particular skill set, Malloy. I’ll give you one chance to explain.”

It had struck me as odd before that the tech Max grabbed was tagged with a tracker that didn’t seem to be activated. A malfunction would explain why no one had come after it, but for some reason I couldn’t say yet, I knew it was intentionally disabled. There was a chance I was wrong, but it was acceptably small.

“Well?” said Hogan when I didn’t answer right away.

“If you check your records carefully for mid-range firearms, you will find several have been dead-ended within the systems,” I said in an even tone. “They will be listed as delivered to a location or in the possession of a Constable that made no requisition. Cross reference recommended gear for any current dispatch and you will see discrepancies.”

Hogan held my gaze for a long second then sat at his terminal and started pulling up information while Max and I waited. He scanned through a few entries. It took a dozen before I had the patterns and codes down. His system was coded and nuanced from years of work. I pointed at a particular entry. “That one. You’ll notice it has a recipient headed into the Deadlands, where it will be either destroyed or lost. The chances of that specific weapon returning are so low that you have a system in place to automatically decommission them unless they turn back up. It saves you time and effort but leaves a hole for Lanier to move his contraband.”

I took the pad I had swiped from Lanier when I bumped into him and placed it next to Hogan. “Vetus Lanier was trying to move a few entries to another account—muddy the water, as it were.”

Hogan looked between the pad and his terminal with a grim expression. “This is…” He paused, biting the inside of his mouth for a brief moment. “Tiro Malloy, I thank you for bringing this to my attention. Naturally, we can’t go purely off of the word of a Tiro and a hunch. A formal request will need to be made for me to investigate the matter with witnesses and corroborating evidence. It would make things easier if I had concrete proof before I initiate the--”

Max pulled the biotech out of his pocket and presented it to Hogan. “Like this?”

I cleared my throat. “Tiro Shelton came to me with his suspicions about the issue after he noticed the firing primer was in requisitions for repair, despite it being in perfect working order,” I explained. “He could tell at once it was misplaced.”

The Range Master nodded and accepted the piece, turning it over in his hands to study it. After a minute, he shook his head. “Quite so,” he said, then tapped a command into his wrist unit, opening the door to the office. “Vetus Lanier,” he called out. “A minute of your time, please.”

Lanier walked into the room. “Something the matter with one of my students?”

Hogan gave the Vetus a disappointed look. “On the contrary, Vetus. The problem lies in you.”

“I don’t follow,” said Lanier.

“Don’t you?” asked Hogan. “Some startling evidence has come to light that implicates you in a matter that is--well, quite unsettling, to put it plainly.”

Lanier stiffened. It was slight, but noticeable. “I don’t know what you mean. Whatever it is you’ve heard, I assure you I’ve done nothing wrong. I--”

Hogan raised his hand to quiet the man. “Save your words for when you’ll need them, but when the time comes, I suggest you think carefully on them. The truth will come out, one way or the other. You should know that as well as anyone.”

“This is outrageous!” snapped Lanier. “I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“I hereby invoke the Right of the Scale to have you removed from duty,” said Hogan, his voice booming with authority.

Two military police officers who had been observing the live fire line approached a few moments later and marched over to the resistant Vetus.

Hogan called the four students from the other room. “Observe what happens when you do not consider all points of failure for a plan,” he said, his demeanor back to that of a surly drill instructor. “Arrogance can make you sloppy, and you will fail.” He nodded to Vetus Lanier. “Accompany your former Vetus and see him taken to the Primus Rhetor. He will be held there and tried for crimes against the Tower. As with every failure, let his be a lesson to you all.”

The students followed the handcuffed Lanier as the MPs dragged him away.

Hogan clapped me and Max on the shoulder. “Excellent work to both of you. I’ll have my hands full scrutinizing my logs and changing my systems to avoid this in the future. Your actions will be noted in your personnel files. Dismissed.”

We left the firing gallery and stopped by one of the many holo news boards outside. Max offered me his hand. “I sure appreciate the help, Tiro Malloy. Don’t think I’d have figured it out as quickly without you.”

I shook his hand. “Anytime.”

He smiled. “Hey, you’re getting the hang of this blending thing. Keep practicing and I don’t think there’ll be any stopping you.”

I nodded. “Thanks… Max.” I recalled Maevik’s insistence on first names to keep things informal and hoped he wouldn’t mind.

He gave me a sloppy salute and then dropped it. “Why Al, I’m touched. See you around, friend.” Max smiled and headed back toward the bastion.

2

I returned to the Red Keep and picked up where I’d left off, reading through notes about the recent takeover of a mine in the highly volatile White Cross system five months ago. The case file was peculiar. Certain discrepancies in the chain of events had me puzzled. The Sarkonian people both requested aid and rejected aid on two separate occasions. This might have been a matter of poor notation, where the request was made and the aid offered was rejected, but such poor notation was suspect in itself.

The mining operation certainly had issues. Unlike the entries regarding aid, the notation on workers killed in accidents was clear and extremely detailed. This was another red flag for the veracity of the rest of the report. It was possible the undercover Constable of Record, Kagen Griffen, was more fastidious in his mining particulars and anatomy than he was in local protocols and political structure. Even so, his level of detail in one section of the report would normally invite a note about his lack of knowledge elsewhere.

The tonal shifts and word choices also changed from one section to the next, indicating Constable Griffen hadn’t written all of them. This wasn’t uncommon. A report did not necessarily show the record of events for a lone agent, but no other editors or contributors were listed. The lack of a transparency was suspicious.

Outside of the issues with the report, what drew me to the events in White Cross were the particulars of the operations and the rare material dug out of the mine: N02-99.

Due to scarcity and its use in reinforcing the hulls of Sarkonian ships, N02-99 was a highly sought-after metal—at least by the Sarkonian Empire. I had a hunch that the mine held more value than just the alloy.

After reading through the notes again, I determined that the requests for aid were actually coded messages detailing the discovery of compounds used for synthesizing neutronium.  The only quantities of neutronium known to exist in the galaxy resided in Union labs more tightly guarded than Alara’s location.  If the plans were to build a sophisticated refining plant on the newly acquired planet, the Constable presence there made more sense.

I felt a bit of an itch reading the reports, a feeling of a challenge that I had not experienced since I worked through the particulars of the raid of the Union facility on Meridian.

“Tiro Malloy,” said a voice behind me.

Recognizing the speaker, I stood immediately, turned, and saluted.

“Sir!” I said, then dropped my hand.

It was my Vetus, Dorian Tribal, standing at the end of the row. He was older but still in his prime, as evidenced by my failure to detect his arrival. He held himself in a relaxed combat stance nearly every time that we spoke. The Vetus had held numerous military and police positions throughout his life and was rumored to be one of the best pilots the Union had. He was quiet, observant, and seemed perpetually ready for action. It was an attitude I respected and appreciated immensely. Many of the older Veti I had encountered, though smart, were hollow or cold. The constant stress of the demanding nature of their postings either burned them out or made them somewhat cynical and detached. With Vetus Tribal, it was different. A unique mentor for a unique protégé, perhaps.

“At ease,” he said, coming to the table and giving my holo docs a cursory glance. “I can see you’ve been working that exceptional brain of yours, Malloy. You see a puzzle and can’t help yourself.”

“Yes, Vetus. Just going over some data that didn’t sit right with me.”

He gave me an approving nod, then his mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile. “Your instincts are, as usual, correct. However, in this case, probing would not be welcome. Let’s leave this alone, shall we? Shaw wants to see you.”

I perked up at the mention of Shaw, who I’d not seen for a few months. If he wanted to see me now…

The playful glint in Tribal’s eye told me I’d been right and that Tribal wasn’t angry. It felt good after a lifetime of suppressing my observations. Tribal gave no indication that I might be in trouble and I wondered if his pleasant demeanor could mean that I would finally be going on my first mission.

“As you say, Vetus.”

I turned to switch off the portable holo display and disconnected the White Cross records from my datapad. Vetus Tribal waited for me casually, none of his movements or facial cues giving away what was on his mind. It was another aspect of the man that I found appealing, his ability to conceal what he was thinking, that made him an efficient Constable and Vetus that I could and did learn from.

When I finished cleaning up, he headed in the direction of Shaw’s office, indicating for me to follow.

“You placed everything back where you found it, even if it was out of place,” he noted as we walked. “It’s a good habit. Never leave it to be collected or give it to any archivist. You don’t want to risk it sparking the interests of anyone else or being misfiled and lost. The same can be said when you’re out in the field.”

I knew that every exchange with a Vetus was a learning experience, so I took his words at face value and detected the underlying meaning. I was sure now that Shaw was finally giving me an assignment.

Vetus Tribal adjusted his uniform as we descended to the ground. Originally a gesture I saw as a compulsion, or boredom, before I thought it was to check a concealed weapon. This late in our mentor/protégé relationship, I was convinced it was a purposeful red herring, a gesture designed to draw attention to nothing.

“What tipped you off about the mining records?”

The impromptu pop quiz forced my attention away from his movements, though I noticed he continued to fidget as I gathered the evidence in my head, then I proceeded to give Tribal an overview of my findings.

The Vetus listened patiently until I’d finished before chiming in. “That’s good work, Tiro Malloy. Breaking the code in particular.”

I tipped my chin in thanks. “A wise teacher taught me that hiding my intentions in plain sight was always the more prudent path, so I assume others follow this creed as well. I’ve been looking at different reports about mining operations across the inner worlds to see how Constables operate in different settings.” I paused, deliberating over whether to continue, then decided it might be a test and spoke again. “Sir, may I ask why you moved your service weapon to the opposite hip?”

Tribal smiled widely and winked. “I’m glad you caught that, even with the distraction. Malloy, I think it’s time for you to lose the Tiro designation.”

The lift doors opened, and we exited into the offices at the base of the Tower. Vetus Tribal gave a smile and a tip of his cap to Archeio Palimorie.

“While overachievement is appreciated, sticking your foot in a troubling operation with a potential personal connection might be seen as returning to the scene of the crime. I don’t recommend it,” he warned. “At least until your loyalty has been proven.”

I considered that for a moment as we walked in silence, then I remembered my earlier discussion with Tiro Shelton about blending in.

“Do you know what Shaw wants?” I asked, thinking that to be a normal question, even if I already knew the answer.

“An excellent question, Tiro Malloy. I’ll leave that to Shaw to explain, but I think we can manage a quick lesson here. Asking questions creates a verbal opening. It lays out—”

I sighed and mimicked the teaching in the strident tones of Professor Nhiki. “It lays out a gambit that allows you to control the interaction with a subject. Asking a question is an aggressive move that seeks to push an agenda and manipulate a subject.” Then in my usual tone I said, “It’s also how people show they care about what is happening to them and their time.”

Vetus Tribal smirked at my impression and gave me a nod. “Two answers, and both were equally valid.” He took a few rushed steps ahead of me, stopping at a door that led to small hangar, and checked his wrist unit. “We’re taking a personal transport into the atmosphere in ten minutes. Wait here.”

* * *

I waited patiently for the ten minutes to pass. Right on time, Vetus Tribal returned and brought me to a small two-person shuttle where he took the pilot’s seat. It occurred to me as I strapped in and we taxied out of the hangar that it could be about my afternoon spent with Tiro Shelton exposing Lanier instead of a mission, though I doubted it. That would garner no particular applause from the old man, and Tribal’s comments had all but confirmed my suspicions already.

“Craft TXX2-C, you are clear to join the queue.”

Dorian’s hands danced expertly over the controls as he keyed in a command that had the shuttle pulling a broad turn to the left and starting a slow pass of the Constable training complex. “You ready to learn how to control one of these things? Get your wings?”

I saw through the ruse easily and smiled.

“Mandated operating procedure requires twenty standard hours in a simulator then an additional forty with an assigned pilot. Then, only after a successful first mission will a Tiro be granted pilot privileges. I thought we only had time for one more lesson?” I quipped.

The Vetus laughed and opened the side panel on his uniform to pull out a pair of field glasses. “Never reach for an opportunity that serves to benefit no one. Here.” He handed me the glasses. “Take a look down there. Tell me what you see.”

I looked through the glasses and adjusted the magnification. In addition to magnification, they also boasted a recording feature that allowed me to selectively record and zoom after the fact. It was efficient tech, which offered an agent a chance to record a great amount of topographical information on a single pass of a target and review the imaging later.

“I see the campus. The bastion in the center, connecting the Red Tower and the dorms via skybridges. The courtyard. It’s getting dark, so the lights are on and only a handful of students are out. The Primus’ office is west of the bastion. A lot of lights on there. To the east are the maintenance facilities and the port we recently left. Nothing out of the ordinary there.”

I rewound the footage and checked for particulars. Nothing. I continued, “Northwest of the bastion is the firing gallery. To the south, the analyst and cipher corps, no visible lights, as usual. Only standby lights on in the applied physiology building west of that. Finally—” I paused, adjusting the zoom and enhancing the image to view the final small building. “—to the southeast, the security essentials building is barely visible. The cloaking field doesn’t work well when you know what should be there.”

I looked up from the glasses and Dorian nodded. He took another wide turn and brought us around again so we could join the short queue of other shuttles. “Now, look again without the glasses and tell me what you see.”

I looked down into the growing darkness at the disjointed buildings that comprised the Constable training grounds. Vetus Tribal was asking me a specific question, as he often did. This was another reason I liked the Constable. He constantly challenged me to do better. While my first answers were all correct, as he would have addressed any errors, the answers were insufficient. He was asking me to find another layer of meaning, just as I had with the reports for the mine in White Cross. The truth within the truth.

“The architecture doesn’t match. Not just because each building was built at a different time, though from the records, they were built within months of each other. I would understand that the building designs were varied to express the ideology behind the lessons taught in each. The analyst and cypher corps building is little more than a box. This is the optimal shape to restrict access and limit the profile against attacks. The building is dark and has no visual appeal in comparison to the rest of the campus. The bastion features a later design, one that predates the Union and Sarkonians. It represents the strength of an empire coupled with the sometimes-ramshackle nature of an outpost. The Red Keep looks nondescript and unimportant, while the armory and weapons facility looks powerful.” I frowned as the words came out. “Which gives potential attackers an easy target.”

Dorian put the controls on auto, letting the limited onboard computer take over, then turned and met my confused stare with a calm one.

“Think about it,” he said. “Most of the weapons on site are for training. If an enemy were stupid enough to attack, they wouldn’t get much. Our most precious resource is knowledge. By drawing attention elsewhere, the Red Tower follow protocols to protect the data. It’s our truth. Why do we value truth, Tiro Malloy?”

I considered the frankness of the question. Vetus Tribal had always spoken to me as a potential peer, as a proper mentor should, as if he was speaking to a version of me that he hoped to see arrive. This went beyond that. He wasn’t testing me for my knowledge of the subject. He was creating an opportunity to express something.

“Truth relates to understanding. Objects exist within the world and we interact with them. We can’t know everything, but we can separate what is actual from what is false. Truth produces results and propels us forward while the false, the unreal, and the impossible all hold us back.”

“Are you sure that the opposite of truth and reality hold no value?”

Truth was clearly the most important trait and its pursuit the most noble goal of a people. In the past two years, it had been driving me. Even before that, since I was born, I had sought out the way the universe worked and the things people missed but always seemed so obvious to me. All which had pushed me to a dark world alone. Truth was a force that had absolute power and needed to be controlled. But maybe it wasn’t as black and white as I’d believed.

“When selecting tools for a job, I prefer to get the ones that are most effective,” I replied, though less sure of myself than I had been.

Vetus Tribal controlled his response, remaining blank. “Why do we value justice, Tiro Malloy?”

This question was easier, and I answered without hesitation.

“Justice is about balance and the instruments of that balance. The three main ideas behind justice say that it must be impartial, act swiftly to prevent harm, and weigh sides carefully. Justice is as much a system of determining truth as it is about correcting society and citizens who are straying from established values and concerns.”

“All very educated and factual responses, kid. One last question. Try to think outside what you know for this one. Try a little… imagination. What is the purpose of the Constables?”

I hadn’t seen it before, but all his questions were about the same thing. The guise was different, but the underlying meaning remained consistent. “The Constables work to find what is hidden. They help maintain a unified society of order, stopping all those who would seek to fracture it.”

He nodded. “You’re on the right track but still sound like you’re reading something you memorized. How do they get their jobs done?”

“Through manipulation, subterfuge, and information control. Constables stand for truth and justice but employ the tactics of the very people they oppose. A Constable is the shadow of justice, capable and willing to do what one must to achieve a better outcome as a whole.” I paused, briefly reflecting on the words I had spoken. “That’s what you meant before. Truth is more powerful than deception, but that doesn’t mean deception has no power. The fourth aspect of justice is the shadow it casts, which protects those who enforce it from scrutiny. The Constables exist in that shadow. We work from within the dark.”

The Vetus turned back to the controls. “Good job. I wanted to make sure you had figured it out. You were recruited because you were smart, because you could read people, and because you have an impressive memory—”

“I was recruited because I used all those skills to thwart the Union,” I corrected, breaking in. “I took what I knew and used that power without consideration of the ultimate consequences. I showed Shaw that I could work outside of the system to beat the system.”

“Partially,” he said. “Shaw had his eye on you before all that because of your exceptional abilities. But those skills don’t make you a Constable. All of that is just potential. Now it’s time to apply what you’ve learned and see if you’ve got what it takes. There’s a certain… finesse to this job, Malloy.” He let the words hang there and I caught the implication.

I was reminded again of Shelton’s advice on blending, and so I nodded. “I understand. A friend today told me that I’m too formal.”

Dorian snorted. “The word around campus is that you need to pull the stick out of your ass and loosen up a little bit.”

This had made its way to my ears as well, but I’d stoutly ignored it. “It’s an issue I’m working on,” I said, attempting to be casual.

His eyebrows winged up at that and he offered me a grudging smile. “There’s an old saying,” he went on. “Fighting for the angels means dancing with the devils. Hold on to your ideals but remember that you do a dirty job because you are capable of sorting out the difference and seeing the job done. I won’t lie to you, Malloy. You’re going to have to make the hard decisions, but in a way that the populace will be better off for.”

He throttled up and I felt the acceleration pushing me into the seat.

“I realize it’s been a long day for you but find a second wind. I have a feeling that after our meeting with Shaw we’ll be on the move. It’s about time you left the nest and put all this theory and training to a final test.”

Regardless of the confidence Vetus Tribal’s words were meant to show, I felt less than ready. I would have to stay alert, learn to blend in, and embrace the new direction my life had taken. I would have to become the best Constable I could be if I ever hoped to make a lasting change in the galaxy.

I would have to evolve.

3

It was dark when we arrived at Shaw’s office. I felt oddly jittery and realized it was nerves, something somewhat foreign to me. Even when I worked with Evelyn there was always a clinical feeling to the heists. I’d been seeking a thrill before; now I wanted to attain a goal.

Malcom Shaw’s office was a permanent fixture within the Primus’ offices. He held no specific title nor was he affixed with a rank assigned to members of the Union Navy, though I speculated he specialized in recruitment and assigning acceptable missions to graduates. He was simply Mr. Shaw. His office didn’t even have an outer area or receptionist to field visitors.

It helped that the main office had an external entrance, which led directly to a series of “black” areas within the floorplan that were off limits to Tiros like myself. Unlike many of the Constables that cloaked themselves in secrecy, hid in plain sight, or were always moving, Shaw relied on the power of the unknown to shield him. Nobody knew who he was, exactly who he answered to, or what he was capable of. It was all but impossible to launch an attack on a stack of unknowns like that.

Inside, Dorian and I sat silently in Shaw’s visitor’s chairs, reminding me of the first encounter I had with the old man. Shaw watched a string of information crossing a one-way holo display on his desk. Whatever he was reviewing had him engrossed. It had been ten months since I had last seen him, or exactly three hundred and eight standard days. He had arrived on whatever business had taken him across the galaxy and promptly checked on me to ensure my training was still going smoothly. Mr. Shaw was just as adept at concealing his thoughts and intentions as Vetus Tribal, but I’d gotten a sense of urgency at the time.

I was shaken from my thoughts by Shaw’s sudden movement. I hadn’t even noticed him turn off the small holo display.

Shaw steepled his fingers and regarded me with a hooded expression.

“I understand you have been busy, Mr. Malloy. A mind like yours should never be given a chance to wander or too much time to obsess, and I worried you wouldn’t find the training… thrilling enough.” The barb, a reference to my reasoning for taking part in Evelyn’s heists, hit home. “I’m glad to hear that you’ve been putting in extra time at the Red Keep.”

Dorian grunted and leaned forward. “The kid’s been putting his talents to use in better ways than you might think.”

One side of Shaw’s mouth lifted in a knowing smile.

“I’m aware. All in all, I think Mr. Malloy has made a good start in paying back his debt.” He fixed a pointed stare on me before flicking a glance to the Vetus and continuing, “I’ve read your report from earlier tonight, Dorian. I’m glad to see you have finally agreed that Mr. Malloy is ready for his final test.”

I didn’t react, despite the revelation. For one thing, it could be a ploy, something Shaw was tossing out to gauge my ability to stay cool. If it was true, it mattered little. How much I felt like I was ready for my test had never been a factor.

Seemingly oblivious to my internal struggle, Shaw continued. “As you know, we’ve been tracking a specific shipment of neutronium across the outer rim for almost a year. The same shipment that was stolen by Evelyn Rose. Its loss has had grave repercussions to the Union’s power structure. Rose has been selling the neutronium in small amounts to criminal forces and self-styled rebel leaders. The sales have been irregular and difficult to follow. Her pattern in selecting buyers has eluded us. She seems to support no specific ideology and has passed up the highest bidder on several occasions.”

A few flicks of his wrist placed a gritty image of Evelyn on half of the holo. Even with the low quality of the picture, it was unmistakably her, down to the white coat and red hair, though that seemed to have been upgraded to a more expensive cut since I’d last seen her.

I studied the woman who had sacrificed my friend Remi, her own brother, and nearly succeeded in killing me. Despite my personal growth in the past year, I couldn’t stop the surge of anger that pulsed through me upon seeing her again, but I tamped down the emotion. The job came first now, and I couldn’t worry about petty revenge anymore.

“That was taken six days ago on the planet Din,” said Shaw.

I noticed that my Vetus didn’t look confused or ask any questions about Evelyn or the presented information. This didn’t surprise me though. It would make sense for a Vetus to be appraised of his Tiro’s past, especially when the history was as colorful as mine. Still, I felt a moment’s shame that the man I respected knew of my mistakes.

Shaw then pulled up a list of sales and locations on a large holo display that covered one of his walls.

“So far, she has made eleven sales. One roughly every thirty days, though that does not appear to be a factor.” He pointed to the first location in the diagram and it zoomed into focus. “This is Calpurnia. As you know from your studies, it is considered to be the last of the core worlds in terms of distance and time as part of the Union. General unrest has been something of a problem for the planet. Raiders comprised of the former Calpurnia Defense Fleet, or CDF, attack the planet with some frequency. This makes Calpurnia a hot zone inside of Union space.”

A schematic of the fleet and the local area appeared on the display next. “The ships of the CDF were designed specifically to deal with slingshot maneuvers to navigate through the remains of a large moon caught in the orbit of a rogue planet. The planet hit the sun, tidal forces shattered the moon, and the materials exposed became prime mining. This brought in raiders and the CDF took care of it. After the planet joined the Union, Fleet Admiral Aric Cholm took 75 percent of the fleet with him and disappeared.”

He brought up a holo of Admiral Cholm in a non-Union uniform, clearly from his CDF days. “The first sale Evelyn made was to this man. With it, from what little intelligence we’ve gathered, he hoped to build a catastrophic device that would push the largest chunk of the split moon into a decaying orbit with Calpurnia. He issued demands calling for Union forces to leave the planet and cede all control to him.”

Shaw glanced at us to make sure we were still following along, then changed the display to a second holo of Admiral Cholm. In this one, the man’s appearance had changed drastically. He was older, as evidenced by the thick cap of grey hair and deep lines that had taken over his features. Cholm had also lost an eye at some point between the pictures and now wore an eye patch to cover the injury. The admiral’s uniform had been swapped out for prison garb.

“Constables disabled the device and retrieved the neutronium. Cholm was taken into custody and offered up information about Rose in exchange for clemency.” Shaw pulled up another planetary system and enlarged a section depicting an outpost in deep space. “That information led us to Fernall, a disused station colonial outriders built some time ago. It’s decaying and not fit for continued use, which makes it a perfect residence for criminals and dissidents. One of our agents managed to install surveillance tech and we observed a number of transactions and high-stakes auctions taking place before Evelyn’s name was mentioned.”

Stunned, I looked from Shaw to Dorian. “Are the Constables using all this information to stop the criminal activity?”

Speaking for the first time, Dorian shook his head. “Most of it is small time, kid. It would be a waste of resources and they would eventually figure out they were being surveilled.”

Realizing the wisdom of this, I nodded. “A small sacrifice for the bigger picture.”

“Exactly right, Tiro.” The Vetus looked pleased and returned his attention to Shaw and the holo that now showed an image of the shattered outpost drifting in lifeless pieces.

“We decided apprehending Evelyn and retrieving the neutronium was worth possibly losing this asset and a team was sent to intercept. Unfortunately, she was a step ahead of us and did not arrive to the meet. At the time the meeting was supposed to start, Fernall was destroyed by unknown means.”

Shaw paused and looked to me then Dorian, as if waiting for us to ask questions. When neither of us spoke, he gestured to a large space station. “Rose has not made a sale, that we know of, in the last thirty days. This breaks her selling pattern for the previous eleven. Additionally, our assets monitoring the dark parts of the gal-net have uncovered a bidding war for an upcoming auction. Which brings us to Taurus.”

Taurus station looked to be a bustle of activity and was in much better shape than Fernall.

He produced an overlay of the station and pointed to one highlighted section.

“Is Rose on Taurus?” asked Dorian, his eyes sharp and calculating.

Shaw shook his head. “No. There is, however, an RBO.”

“What’s an RBO?” I asked, somewhat confused. I usually excelled at remembering acronyms, but this one didn’t seem familiar.

Neither Shaw nor Dorian looked bothered by my lack of knowledge, so I didn’t dwell on it.

“Renegade Bounty Office,” the Vetus supplied before fixing his attention on Shaw.

His answer didn’t really clear it up for me though. I could logic out what an RBO was for, I just didn’t see how it pertained to Evelyn.

“Correct,” agreed the older man. He must have seen my confusion because he added to Dorian’s explanation. “RBOs specialize in finding all manner of information.”

“Ah,” I said. “I see now. He knows something about Evelyn’s whereabouts I presume?”

Shaw shook his head again in the negative. “Not quite, Tiro Malloy. He has information regarding the location of the sale, where she will be.”

“You’re sending a Constable to act as buyer,” guessed Dorian.

That made logical sense and I felt somewhat juvenile for not having reasoned that out already, though I had to admit the photo of Evelyn had distracted me. I also wondered if Shaw had wanted me here solely to ask for insight into Evelyn. He had yet to mention my mission and it was possible I wouldn’t get that assignment tonight.

“No,” he said with an unreadable expression. “I’m sending two Constables. You two, in fact, provided Tiro Malloy agrees.” The older Constable didn’t give me time to react before moving on. “In conjunction with the neutronium, we’ve also been alerted to the fact that Rose has begun to deal in rare artifacts. There is a link between the two, but it isn’t important to the mission.”

“Sir, what exactly is the mission?” asked Dorian.

Now Shaw leaned back in his chair and studied us. “Make contact with the RBO agent on Taurus and find out exactly where the auction is going to take place. Then you’ll go there and pose as buyers.”

On the surface it seemed like a good plan, but there was at least one glaring issue that I saw.

“Evelyn will recognize me immediately,” I said, unable to stop myself.

“Yes,” replied Shaw, unmoved. “She will. That will be your first hurdle to figure out as a Constable. Evelyn Rose is out in the world because you helped her. Now it’s up to you to catch her.”

I couldn’t deny what he said was true, so I inclined my head. “As you say, Mr. Shaw. I accept responsibility for my actions and look forward to redeeming myself in any way that I can.”

The wheels were already moving, the synapses in my brain firing as my subconscious tried to come up with solutions while I listened to the rest of what Shaw had to say.

“That’s good to hear, Tiro Malloy. Keep in mind that if successful, this will complete your training and earn you the title of ‘Constable Malloy.’ Moving on. It would appear that Rose is in possession of an artifact that the Union has a vested interest in. They would like you to retrieve it.”

So, this was the mission. I had to admit I was a little surprised at this turn of events. I had never entertained the idea that I would be hunting Evelyn for my mission, but I liked it. I didn’t have long to ponder it though as Shaw tapped his pad again and brought up another image.

This time it was of a man—a Constable, to be precise. He had thick brown hair and sharp eyes with a nose to match. He was a little on the trim side, not unlike me, and wore glasses that gave him a sort of bookish air.

“This is Constable John Lacroan. Because of his extensive background in the subject, he posed as a seller and long-time smuggler with expertise in ancient tech. Lacroan has been a vital asset in our archeology and reclamations operations for decades.”

“Has he met with her yet?” asked the Vetus, putting notes into his datapad.

Shaw’s expression turned grave. “Our last communication from Lacroan said he had planned to meet her three days ago. We haven’t heard from him since.”

Now Dorian looked up, though his eyes didn’t widen in alarm at the news. He had more of a calculating look with the way his brow furrowed.

“You think Rose killed him or took him hostage. So, she likely knows more will be on the way.”

He presented a telemetry trail exiting the planet. “Prices for the weapons skyrocketed in the final day before the event. Numerous bids for the converter pod were made and threats started to surface. We had to stop several parties from launching raids on the event. In the resulting chaos, the pod, the artifacts, and Lacroan all vanished in a ship along this heading.”

He pulled up a chart of numbers. “The amount of credits Evelyn has received so far are enormous. She’s only parted with less than fifteen percent of the material. As you can see, her resulting bankroll is starting to make her a player in galactic politics. She could buy influence over an entire planet soon and begin shaping it to her own agenda.”

He waved his hand and the charts were replaced with a holo feed of Evelyn in motion. “Six days ago, we caught her on a holo camera on Din. She’s left Union space and entered the Deadlands. As of now, I’m officially ending the analysis of her agenda and sending you in to determine her ultimate motives.”

A star chart appeared, depicting the location of Din in relation to the core Union-governed planets and the contested zone near the Deadlands. “We can’t risk sending a large force into the area without breaking the Androsia Convention and fanning the flames of several currently cold resistance movements. We also can’t allow Evelyn to continue to provide such a valuable resource to our enemies nor to amass more power for herself while we have no firm idea of her goals.”

Vetus Tribal remained quiet until the presentation ended. “You think this is an appropriate mission for Tiro Malloy? His insight into Evelyn Rose is undoubtedly valuable, but as you said, she knows him. It’s not like we can put him close to her without arousing suspicion.”

Shaw nodded confidently. “Mr. Malloy does have a history with Rose, a history that will drive him to use everything he’s learned to piece together the crumbs she’s been leaving across the galaxy. At this point she doesn’t know he’s been training to become a Constable. I’ve leaked information that one person escaped our raid that day and left Rose to draw her own conclusion. However, your job, as his Vetus, is to know your Tiro, make calls, and guide him in the field. If you don’t believe he’s ready, tell me now.”

“I don’t need a show of rank or to be protected from myself or the mission.” I stood up, incensed and unwilling to lose my mission when I was this close. “When I accepted the offer to come here and train, I did so unconditionally. I’m committed to this and no one knows Evelyn as well as I do.”

Vetus Tribal laughed and got to his feet with me. “Guess that answers your question, Shaw.”

Shaw nodded, apparently satisfied by my answer. “See that she doesn’t get away this time, Malloy. The Union needs Evelyn Rose dealt with to protect galactic stability.”

I released the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding. “What about Lacroan? Do we have an obligation in this mission to find him or determine his whereabouts?”

Shaw turned off the displays and walked around his desk to stand with us. “Mr. Malloy, this will be a learning experience for you. In the field, with little to no support from your superiors, you’ll be making decisions on your own. Focus on reclaiming the neutronium first and dealing with Rose. If you encounter Lacroan, your Vetus will help you to make the right decision. I’m trusting you both. Go to Taurus and see if you can pick up her trail.”

Dorian chimed in. “Identities, funds, and passage all ready to go?”

Shaw walked to his office and opened it. “Everything is waiting at the Depot. You’ll receive it when you check out. Per protocol, as of now, you are both outside of the Constable service. If you return successful, your status will be restored, and Mr. Malloy can finally call himself a full Constable.”

He gave a wave of his hand to usher us out. “I expect the best results from you.”

4

“Priority message. MikroTrek proceed for departure,” said an automated voice over the shuttle’s internal comm.

Dorian punched me lightly on the shoulder. “You excited, Malloy?”

I’d noticed he had stopped referring to me as Tiro and kid but wasn’t sure if that was an opening to do the same, so I tested it out.

“Yes, Vetus. I’m looking forward to this.”

Dorian made a face. “Call me Dorian or Tribal, but you don’t have to call me ‘Vetus’ anymore. Especially now. You’re going to have to blend in and look more like my friend than student.”

“I’ve been working on a different speech pattern to make me sound more approachable,” I said in response.

My new colleague sent me a genial nod. “I noticed. Could still use some work, but much better. Okay, here we go.”

He took the ship out of the hangar and up into orbit. It was the middle of the night for the Red Keep and air traffic was light.

I stared through the viewport of the ship we’d been given for the mission. It was much bigger than the short-range shuttle Dorian had taken me on for our earlier jaunt. That seemed like ages ago even though it had been barely hours.

This would be my fourth trip through a slip tunnel and I still found it as fascinating as the first time. A small thrill rolled through me and I watched avidly when the ship opened the rift that would take us inside.

It was strange to think of calling Vetus Tribal by his first name, Dorian, even though that was how I would refer to him while on the mission. As he’d mentioned, the formal title was an obvious giveaway to our nature. It almost seemed ridiculous to call for so much protocol in training to have it be a death knell in the field. Still, there was a purpose to separating the elements of service. I had learned much in my time at the training facility, but now it was time for real galaxy application and experiences that would elevate my knowledge even further.

I found it exhilarating in a way that my former heists had only hinted at. There, being caught or failing meant arrest or maybe death. Failing within the Constables made such a death even more severe, since my name would be kept classified. It would be like I never existed at all.

The MikroTrek was a light freighter that had been purchased by the Union specifically as an undercover ship. The inside had been retrofitted accordingly and featured a large cargo bay suitable for transporting goods, illegal or otherwise. It had enough quarters to comfortably sleep a five-man crew or passengers, or ten uncomfortably.

We passed through the rift smoothly and slid into the green tunnel with walls that seemed to dance chaotically like waves of lightning, which I found both mesmerizing and horrifying at the same time.

Dorian gave me a grin. “Your file said you hadn’t traveled much. We’re going to get some space legs on you by the time we make it to Din.”

I frowned, not feeling green at all. “I’ve travelled before. Just not extensively. And I aced all the training sims.”

My former Vetus chuckled. “No need to get defensive, Alph. What?” he asked, noticing my reaction to his nickname.

“Alph is not me,” I replied stiffly.

He raised his hands in an appeasing motion. “No worries. What do you want to be called?”

I took a moment to think about that. “How about Al? I’ve been called that before and I don’t mind it.”

He nodded. “Al it is. Well Al, we’re in the throes of the tunnel stream. You can get up now. We’ve got about three standard days of travel until we hit Taurus, and you need to use that to study up on the dossier.”

Dorian’s voice had lost some of the overt friendliness and he’d gone into teacher mode. We might be posing as friends, but he was still very much my Vetus, at least until this was over. Unbuckling my safety harness, I nodded briskly at him and set off for my quarters.

The ship hummed and trilled quietly as I made my way through it, and just like during my initial boarding, I took in everything around me. It was my first time on a vessel of this size and used for this purpose, and I wanted to learn everything it had to teach me.

It wasn’t particularly luxurious, but it was still nicer than anything I’d been on previously. There had been something surreal about sitting on the bridge with Dorian as he sat in the captain’s chair manning the controls. The MikroTrek had a limited artificial intelligence to pilot the ship but Dorian said he liked to do things manually if at all possible. I supposed that life as a Vetus had been much less exciting than whatever he’d done previously, and he saw this as a sort of field trip.

The rumpled grey-green excursion suit I was wearing chafed and smelled a little of some chemical remnant. The walk to my quarters was a short one, and there I changed into a more suitable jumpsuit. We didn’t bring any Constable clothing at all, not even the more casual tees and tactical pants because they were a dead giveaway to our identities. If the ship somehow got boarded or taken away from us, we wouldn’t want a room toss to give away our affiliation.

Since I didn’t have anything but uniforms and clothing with Union insignias, Dorian had loaned me some ill-fitting spares. He’d said something about buying some on Taurus and I wasn’t particularly looking forward to that. My only experience in buying clothes had been on Meridian when I was looking for information on my friend Remi. Well, he hadn’t been my friend yet. That came later.

Pushing thoughts of the dead man away, I exited my room, picking up my datapad and a portable holo display on the way out. The short hallway forked around a ladder headed down to the level where the kitchen and dining area were. On either side were the other cabins. Dorian’s rooms were in the captain’s quarters and closest to the bridge.

I entered the kitchen to see Dorian already there. He grabbed a pair of ready-rations and waited for them to warm up. “Hey, Al. Take a moment to consider this. I know it seems like we’ve got all this time to kind of kick back and relax, but we don’t. Downtime isn’t empty. Ever. Downtime is the safest you will ever feel. This is the moment between steps of a mission when you can evaluate and reconsider. Once a plan is in motion, you are committed, and everything becomes forced and urgent. Learn to identify these moments and capitalize on them.”

I held up my pad and tapped it ceremoniously. “Already on it, Dorian, though I appreciate the advice. I know there’s still a lot for me to learn.”

Dorian collected our meals after a beep signaled they were done and added them to the table. I stepped over to the galley and made some tea.

By the time I returned to the table, Dorian had already started his meal. “Glad to see you’re taking it seriously,” he said around a mouthful of the synthesized cuisine.

I smirked. One more of the inherited traits of the former military was they could eat anything in half the time necessary, and three times faster than I could manage.

“It’s a tell, you know. The eating.”

Dorian accepted the tea I offered. “Doesn’t matter. Ex-military is half of all cover IDs anyway. There is no disguising a lot of the way you learn to carry yourself and the response to danger. Better to play into it than hide it.”

As I sat down and began eating my own helping it struck me how astute and sensible the man could be. He’d certainly mastered the ability to appear as one thing and many. “I’m not looking forward to pretending to have killed a hundred men on distant worlds.”

Dorian laughed and slapped the table. “Between the way you stare and your lack of stubble, you’re not passing as an ex-anything.” He narrowed his eyes. “Never pretend to be something you can’t be. Especially in combat. If you fake something you can’t back up, you’re going to be in real shit if someone decides to challenge you.”

“That’s an excellent point,” I conceded, only mildly disappointed that my background would be a little less exciting.

I thought of the variations I had seen between people like Dorian and Remi and the ease with which they carried the suggestion of deadly force. Then there was the Max Shelton type who were good at showing others a mask. In my opinion, those like Max and Dorian were the ones who made the best Constables and I hoped to join their ranks in terms of ability and execution.

Dorian had already cleaned up his mess by the time I finished eating. “Time to get down to it. What’s your plan with this Evelyn? I heard you give the party line in Shaw’s office, but I want to know more.”

I gripped my hot mug of tea and watched the wisps of steam rise into the slightly cold cargo pod. “I have nothing to add, at least right now. I want to see her face justice for her crimes. I want to be there to help stop her and rectify the harm I started, but I need to understand what she’s doing.”

“I wouldn’t be much of a mentor if I believed any of that. That woman betrayed you, killed your friend, and left you for dead. There’s bound to be resentment there, and I don’t blame you. What I want to know is how you plan to put all that aside.”

I considered the gruff, definitive quality of his statement. “I’m not emotionally detached but I am able to be objective. Yes, she hurt people I knew, and she wanted me to die alongside Remi, but that’s just”—I waved my hand in the air, unsure how to word it—“a catalyst, for lack of a better word. It’s not about me, it’s about the big picture. Whatever she might be doing to Lacroan, assuming he’s been captured, may have ramifications we can’t foresee. She uses and manipulates people, wielding their skillsets for her purposes, and a Constable is quite the catch.”

My food finished, I stood up and cleared away the mess. “I can’t say that I won’t react—that I don’t have an emotional investment—but my plans are being made outside those moments.”

“No. You make the plan as if you will react badly in the moment, and create safeguards. Pretending, hoping, or even just calculating them out leaves you vulnerable. Plan against your weaknesses. That’s how you win.”

I smiled. “We prepare for things to fail because they sometimes will. Success is what happens in the absence of failure. Another excellent point, Vetus.”

Dorian shook his head and opened his mouth to object, but I held up a hand.

“I know, I know. You’re not my Vetus anymore,” I said with a lighthearted smirk.

“Right,” he said with a smile of his own. “Hey, look at you, making jokes. I like it. We’ll make a Constable out of you yet, kid.” Then Dorian winked and walked out into the bowels of the ship.

After he was gone, I sat at the table and contemplated our conversation for a little while. As usual, he was right. I needed to take a hard look inside and face everything I’d been pushing aside for the last year, then use it somehow to my advantage.

I sat up a little straighter and set up my workstation. The small emitter device synced up to my datapad and projected the images from the screen so I could look through more information at once. The file from Shaw was massive and I could tell it would be a huge undertaking to get through it all in the next few days, but I knew just where I would start.

My tea had gone cold an hour later, so I warmed it again then sat down to resume my deep dive into the dossier.

One thing was for sure. Evelyn had made a mistake by not making sure I was dead. I may not be coming for her out of a sense of revenge, but I was coming after her using my substantial skills, and with the considerable power of a Constable.

5

Three jumps and a dozen standard hours later, we arrived in the Vadilon system and set a course for Taurus station. Din was an inner world and we still had a day of travel ahead of us. Already the lack of full gravity and irregular hours were starting to sap my reserves.

Dorian sat strapped into his seat, watching a holo on the console. He looked over and saw me staring at the huge station as it drew nearer. Everything about deep space was black until you got close enough to a light source, and Taurus was a hell of a source, at least to my untrained eye.

“Welcome to the life of a Renegade, Al. We’re going to refuel here since we’ve gotta stop anyway.”

I noticed that the closer we got to our destination, the more drastically Dorian’s personality changed. He now walked around the ship with a swagger and his speech had taken on a streetwise attitude. It was impressive and fascinating to watch, just like Max when he’d done the same at the Red Keep.

I kept watch on the receding transport. “I’m Alphonse, you’re Dorian. First names are best, so we sound familiar. We are run specialists, personnel smuggling and small cargo runs from the rim to the core worlds of the Union. Officially, we’re a bonded and licensed vessel with limited allowances through a small independent refinery based in the Ixatil system. We’re recognized as Renegades in the rim worlds, as you have run dozens of covers with this ship doing merc work and smuggling. I’m new, a favor to a cousin or ex or something.”

Dorian nodded. “That’s right. Keep it vague and ever shifting. People will enjoy the idea that you are probably my own kid, but I refuse to accept it. The cover works best when people fill in their own details.” He winked slyly and sent a transmission to station control to get a docking number. We had a wait time of eight standard hours, some of which the former Vetus used to quiz me and teach me some of the easier aspects of piloting.

“Right. I’ve been on-ship for no more than a few months. It explains my lack of endurance and familiarity with locations. It also explains why nobody has seen me out here before.”

Dorian prompted me onward. “And?”

“And I’m a bit funny. I grew up without much supervision or education. I know how to do a few things but am still learning the family business, though I have some small conquests in my past. This gives me access to people and areas and disarms them into thinking I’m not a threat or responsible.”

“Exactly.” Dorian sounded pleased as he moved

“Is this how it goes? Do your covers always include a cool veteran and his boy sidekick?”

Dorian smiled. “I stick with the classics. There is a bit of fantasy that people like to stick to out here. The people living in the Deadlands consider themselves pioneers and trailblazers. They are self-made and self-assured. Nothing settles their suspicions like an old pro showing new blood the ropes. Now, go get some rest before we dock.”

* * *

I didn’t plan on falling asleep, but the fatigue of deep space travel took a toll on my inexperienced body. I woke to a light flashing in my cabin and a klaxon alarm blaring.

“Dorian, what’s happening?” Even as I spoke, I bounded out of the bunk and put on my boots before launching out of the door and toward the bridge.

“We’re out of fuel and lost in the dark. Get up here and figure out where you sent us!”

My mind was foggy with sleep as I stumbled to the chair and strapped in. Outside the viewscreen, everything was black, punctuated only by tiny pinpricks of starlight. I called up the navigation holo, but it was glitched and fragmented. “This looks bad, Dorian.”

Dorian tapped a line on his own display. “You think that’s bad? Look at this.”

The fuel indicator gave us less than an hour of burn before we would be floating aimlessly.

“Day one and you’ve already killed us. I knew I should have partnered with that Nolans. He was a spacer and a former smuggler. No way he’d die like this.”

I furiously attempted to patch through the distorted display to figure out where we were. Then I saw a wire sticking out of the console. I opened the panel and noticed a small square device had been integrated in the system.

“MikroTrek, you are cleared for docking at bay 8. Taurus Station priority message ends.”

Dorian snorted and brought the ship around to face the station. “That is confirmed, Taurus Station, setting docking vector.”

I pulled the wayward device out of the console, closed the panel, and set the vector. “Really?”

He slapped me on the arm. “Just checking how you run under pressure. If they hadn’t tipped you off, it would have been great. I had a whole bit ready to go about who gets to try and survive in the only suit on board.”

“We have three suits on board.”

“Good catch. Now get your game face on. We’re heading in.”

The ship moved into position, matching the axial spin of the station docking ring. Dorian nudged forward and we slipped through the slot into the lower station. As we entered, I was alerted that a passive scan was being conducted. A series of heavy guns swiveled and tracked our movement until the scan completed.

“That’s quite the security system for being non-Union,” I commented.

We moved passed the artillery without triggering anything and they swiveled back at the ready for the next passing vessel. Dorian set the ship down. I felt the sudden shift when the docking clamp engaged.

“We’ll be here for at least a day. I’ll get us on the refueling list then we can try and make contact with the RBO agent here.”

I nodded. “Oliver Trinidad. Owner of the Trinidad’s Trinkets, a souvenir shop and front for his Renegade business.”

Dorian granted me a smile. “I can see you did your homework, Malloy. Now it’s time to put all that training to use. Keep your eyes peeled. This is going to be unlike anything you’ve ever done.”

Out on the promenade, I was reminded of the terrace at the Red Tower.  It buzzed with the energy of hundreds of people moving from shop to shop, machinery hissing, the low thrum of engines at power, and the sharp whine of engines powering up and down. The air was surprisingly pleasant and filled with a variety of mouthwatering aromas that drifted from hover carts and restaurants.

I’d expected Taurus station to be more derelict and rampant with crime after hearing Shaw and Dorian talk about it. Instead, the trade center’s patrons looked quite average. At first it seemed a bad idea to run illegitimate businesses concurrent with tourism, but now I saw why it was a smart move. Theory and knowledge were important, but this made a perfect example for applying it. Some things just couldn’t be taught in a sim or classroom.

I took it all in with studious eyes, careful to look unimpressed, even though I was a little.

“Exciting isn’t it, kid?” Dorian’s arm came around me and his hand squeezed my shoulder in a way that said he was trying to tell me something.

“Yes,” I agreed, not sure what else to say.

“Everything just sort of blends to together. You’ll get used to it though.” He smiled widely and sauntered off, leaving me to jog to keep pace.

I understood his message though after he dropped the hint about blending. My stiff demeanor didn’t match that of the people around us and I could do to act a little more in awe.

We headed inward to an autoslide that arced around the promenade and provided an easy way to move around, especially if a shopper had made many purchases.

Taurus was a newer station, built specifically for trade. Merchant ships and corporate transports often stopped here as they moved between Union space and the Deadlands, ferrying supplies and goods across the nearby systems. Like much of the Deadlands, Taurus didn’t fall under Union control, but I knew from my readings that this was soon to change. The Union had plans to expand into this lawless region of space, which meant Taurus would be one of the first places to go. It was only a matter of time.

I followed my partner and stepped into an empty spot on the glide.

“First time away from home?” a voice said, coming from my left.

It was a man standing near Dorian who was in his sixties, at least, and grey from toe to tip. He was rail thin with loose, sagging skin. His vision was enhanced, as was his hearing with implants. I could tell from the way he favored his right side that he also had reinforcements to the joints in his left arm and knee. His implant was noticeable from the way his jumpsuit creased along his back.

I offered him my hand. “Wow. To see a frequenter like you on my first station trip. My mother told me it was good luck to see a veteran. Means I’m in the right company.”

The old man looked at Dorian and then shook my hand. “Good to see the youngins being taught right. You stick with it, kid, and don’t give that soft life a second glance. Out here”—he gave a wide gesture and a bit of a spin, even in the cramped lift— “out here is where real living happens.”

The glide came to a stop and we exited into a section of the station that sported more bars and adult entertainment. I regarded the old man. “Maybe I’ll run into you again in another few years. I’ll buy you a drink and share some stories.”

He laughed. “I’m sure I’ll have heard them all. But you’ll never go wrong buying drinks for your elders. Good luck to you.” The man limped off and went into one of the more downtrodden brothels. I tried not to think about what he’d be doing there.

Dorian led me along the deck in the opposite direction. “You’re doing good, Al, but this next bit is going to take me in a solo direction. I’m going to meet a contact and get some details on our next move.”

“I’m not going with you?” I asked, somewhat confused. There was enough going on around me that it wasn’t possible to study his cues at the same time.

“Not just yet. I think you could use a little more time out here to get acclimated. Trinidad gets one look at you and he’ll make us, even with the cover. Don’t worry, it won’t count against you when I make my report.”

Resentment threatened to rise up, but I ignored it and flashed a quick smile. The mission came first, not my feelings. “That’s logical. Since you’re herding me somewhere, I expect I’ll be waiting for a bit?”

Dorian pointed to the establishment we now stood by. A holo sign declared it to be “Percy’s Bar,” and it had a cozy feel to it.

“You learn what you can about the spacer life, and I’ll be back here soon. Just don’t buy too many drinks for the elderly,” he teased. “We have a budget to stick to.”

I rolled my eyes as I’d seen some of my classmates do when they were exchanging wit, then pushed through the door and into the bar. It was a simple affair and I had to admit I liked it a great deal. More like a diner than a bar with a row of booths and a bar wrapped around with stools. The décor was all faded rust patterns and retro space hulk. Everything was painted to look like it had been salvaged and slapped together, but it was all show. There was even a hint of cleanser in the air. The tables and surfaces were wiped down frequently and well.

I took a seat at the wraparound. A holo projector was mounted on the back wall and playing a news broadcast. A large man, both tall and wide, but with a guileless smile and wearing an awkwardly fitting brown canvas uniform, idled over to me.

“Can I get ya somethin’?”

There was no discernable menu anywhere, so I defaulted to what I knew. “Hot tea. No spikes. I’m waitin’ for the boss man to do a deal.” I mimicked his way of talking and dropped a few letters.

The large man nodded easily and pulled down a glass mug. “I’m Mort. Since I don’t knows ya well, I’ll kindly take payment up front.”

I nodded back and punched over a payment from my account to the bar’s datapad. “Thanks, Mort. I’m Al. Nice place you got here.”

Mort shrugged but grinned at the compliment. “Not mine but thank ya. Just a moment, I’ll be back with that tea.”

He sidled away but returned moments later and poured the steaming liquid into my cup. With a quick nod of thanks, I shifted my attention to the holo broadcast. The station was tuned to the Union News Network.

The newscaster on the display smiled winningly at the holo camera filming him. The banner at the bottom showed his name to be Quintin Dallas. He was a fair faced man with brown hair and hazel eyes, and he looked to be in his late twenties. His face was symmetrical and handsome in the way holo vid stars were. The near perfection of his features and silky-smooth delivery of his script caught my eye and I studied him more closely.

Dallas was discussing the recent infrastructure woes of the Havel-Briggs company. Everything about the man seemed carefully sculpted to suggest trust and reliability. As he smiled and addressed the camera, I noticed that his gaze would dart to his data pad and off screen every few seconds. After a few minutes of this I realized he wasn’t just a reporter, he was a mouthpiece for the Union government. Every word that came out of his lips was the Union’s, designed to garner the public’s favor.

I’d read about this tactic in the Red Tower but hadn’t understood the context. Now I could see how those watching from afar might take what the man said at face value and accept it as truth. They would be easily swayed by his looks and demeanor, and ultimately, fooled.

That puzzled out, I grew bored and listened to Dallas introduce an expert meant to shed light on why the problems of a Union company were a problem for the Union with half an ear.

Behind me, a commotion unfolded as three patrons of the bar began to argue amongst themselves. I’d noticed them on the way in during my first light scan of the bar. They were sitting at a booth across from the stools immediately to my right. One was burly with thick sideburns. He wore a flight suit with a logo from Havel-Briggs. Facing him were two more who were average-sized, likely brothers from the similarity in their facial structure, as well as their hair and eye color. One wore a sloped hat typical of fuel line runners. It was armored on top but lightweight. That one looked nimble and better prepared for a fight than the others.

I didn’t turn to look at them but focused on the tones they produced as their argument grew more heated.

The baritone-voiced one said, “The flight speed don’t matter if the power isn’t there. You can fly twice lightspeed, but if it takes you a year to accelerate, you still lose the race.”

The alto stated, “Power isn’t going to get you more acceleration if the mass of the ship is too high. And once you add that kind of power, you risk ripping apart any ship without enough mass.”

The gruff and slightly inebriated one slurred, “You’re both stupid. Only thing matters is if it can maneuver at speed. You can’t race anything if all you do is fly forward.”

Whatever they were arguing about had started before I arrived. What I’d caught earlier was more of the same, three opposed views to something about starship qualities.

The meso-alto said, “You want to see what it’s like? Stand up and I’ll show you how force works on a body.” There was a silence then frantic scraping. “Dammit, Eddie, get out of the booth.”

The gruff voice growled, “I’m moving. This is a bad idea, Mackie.” Then came sounds of shifting followed by boots clacking on the floor.

“Stand up, Kevin, or I’ll stand you up,” said Mackie.

Then came another shuffling. Kevin was now standing just slightly to my right. I could make out the brown of his jumpsuit out of the corner of my eye. There was a grunt from Mackie and a sigh from Kevin.

“I told you. Maneuverability matters,” Kevin said.

“And I told your fat mass that nothing moves without enough power!” Mackie retorted.

There was a second grunt and Mackie, the brother without a hat, slammed into the bar beside me. I stood up and turned to face the trio of spacers.

Embarrassed and hot from the argument, Mackie gave me a look. “You got something to say?”

I said nothing but moved up one stool and sat down again.

Eddie came forward and tapped me on the shoulder. “You think you’re better than us, huh? Can’t even face my brother when he asks you a question?”

I stood up again and stood on the balls of my feet, ready to act if this continued to degenerate.

It did.

Mackie shoved Eddie from behind and I moved swiftly to my right as he careened over the stool. Kevin charged into Mackie from behind and sent him forward. Narrowly avoiding getting run over, I sidestepped and let Mackie stumble into the booth and fall to the floor near his brother.

Eddie was on his feet again with balled fists. “You asshole! Gonna make yas pay for that!” He charged forward.

Time seemed to slow as I took in every aspect of Eddie flying at me. The inebriation made his eyes glassy and unfocused, giving me an advantage. I predicted from the way he leaned to the right that it was his strong side and the fist he’d swing with.

As predicted, he cocked back and punched out wildly with his right fist. Not bothering to take a full step out of the way, I simply twisted to the side and slapped his hand away. Eddie crashed into Kevin, who huffed and pushed him off with a grunt.

We’d been taught close quarters combat at the Red Tower, but in an unnamed style that was designed to be covert. That meant relying on physical cues to exploit and defensive maneuvers as a first resort. Brains over brawn, as it were. Of course, we had been trained in traditional disciplines as well, but I preferred the former.

Kevin slapped his chest, and I saw the overt rage in his eyes and expression. Mixed with the alcohol, this was a volatile situation. His hand went to a bump in his jumpsuit and I knew immediately that a weapon was about to come into play.

Before I could react, Mort strode up to him and brought a brown bottle over his head hard enough to shatter the thick glass. Kevin stumbled back, clutching his bleeding skull, then fell hard on his backside.

“You idiots have had this same fight every night for a week. Get out! I don’t want to see you in here again until it's settled.”

The three stood up in various states of defeat and shame and staggered, mumbling incoherently, to the door.

Dorian walked in as they left and watched them go with a suspicious look that he turned on me. “Anything I should know about?”

I sat down and picked up my tea nonchalantly. “I’m learning about spacer life. It’s got its ups and downs.”

6

We emerged from Percy’s a little while later, after Dorian had bought himself a drink and we’d ordered a bite to eat. Foot traffic hadn’t eased up any, but then it was still the middle of day on Taurus, so that wasn’t unusual.

Dorian led the way, sweeping through the crowd with a bluntness that drew attention to him. I followed in his wake, employing the tactics I’d been practicing for moving fluidly through throngs of people like this. I couldn’t help but be pleased that I kept up with my counterpart easily.

His method of obstacle negotiation was rather different from the last person I’d followed through crowds. I wondered if that was rooted somewhere in their military specialties or their personalities. Dorian’s lumbering bull charge seemed the less effective of the two, but I found it interesting that people moved out of the way for him. It reminded me of a lesson about exuding a presence when going undercover. To make those around you believe what you’re projecting.

Dorian certainly knew how to do that. I’d never thought of him as intimidating, but he looked it now. Patrons gave him a wide berth and opened a path in the direction he wanted to go. The only thing more noticeable than the deliberate gait he used was the sway of his coat as he did so. It was almost as if his stride was meant to throw his coat behind him with each step. I realized, suddenly, that was exactly the case. With each stride, his coat swept behind his hip and showed his gun. It was an unveiled threat. Between the presence of the gun and the way he refused to move, he told everyone around us that he was dangerous without saying a word.

He came to an abrupt halt in front of a simple storefront. The sign read Trinidad’s Trinkets. Despite myself, the old thrill came back. It felt good to be doing something important and vital to the mission.

Dorian paused before opening the door. “Remember, you’re young, naïve, and a little wide eyed. Just, you know, be you.” He smirked and gestured at the length of me.

“Funny,” I said, making a face.

He walked inside with me close on his heels. The shop was vacant save for a small counter, a holo projector, and a door leading further in marked Staff. Glass display cases stood unguarded and it surprised me that no one was watching the wares. I took a step forward and studied one of the little figurines that sat out, realizing at once why. While well put together in the shape of a common flower, the thing was made from cheap odds and ends. I had a sneaking suspicion that the material had been pulled from some trash receptacle or another and almost laughed out loud at the price tag.

“We’re not here to shop, Al. With me.”

We walked around the counter and Dorian raised a fist to knock on the door. The sound of shuffling feet could be heard beyond and an oily voice rang out. “One second, I’ll be right there!” The door swung open and a jovial man with crooked teeth appeared. “Apologies, Mr. Tribal. I was crafting a new work of art for a later sale.”

Thinking it would fit my persona quite well, I spoke up. “You mean people buy these things?” I drawled with tactless teenage rudeness.

Dorian glared at me, then slanted a glance at Oliver Trinidad and jerked a thumb back at me. “Sorry about the kid. He’s the family member I told you about. Still has to learn manners.”

Oliver waved away the apology. “Don’t worry about it. He’s right, anyway.” The man winked at me with laughing eyes. “It’s all mostly junk. Tourists will buy anything as a souvenir and I’m happy to sell these to them.”

My partner chuckled and gestured me forward. “Mr. Trinidad, this is my kin, Alphonse Malloy.”

The man offered me a stubby-fingered hand. “Just call me Ollie. That’s what my real friends call me.”

Dorian shook his head. “You’ll call him Oliver because you don’t want to be a real friend to this sad sack. We’re business associates, all above board. You make more money and stay out of brigs that way.”

Oliver frowned. “You wound me, Dorian. I’m nothing but friendly and I run a legitimate business.”

Dorian shook his head again. “That isn’t how I pronounce what you do. Alphonse, join us, will you?” He walked back through the door and I followed the pair.

The backroom was much larger than the store front. The first thing I saw was the two-man security cage on the other side of the door. With three of us, especially with the size of Oliver, it was a tight fit.

Oliver pressed a button on his sleeve and the cage opened, allowing us out and into the warehouse. Crates and cylinders lined the walls and piled four high to the ceiling. The air was heavy with burnt ozone and flashes of burnt aluminum. There was a layer of grease flowing from two crates, one industrial and one food related. The resulting gunk looked like it would make an effective, if ill-smelling, adhesive. In an alcove off to the side sat a worktable with bright lights, various materials, and a magnifying lens on an adjustable arm attached. A work bag full of tools sat to the side and a tiny figure, half finished, sat on the workspace.

Dorian and Oliver headed left from the cage to a small office. Inside, I was offered a couch to sit on. Oliver sat at his desk, while Dorian took up a position leaning against the door, ready for further acts of aggression.

I sat down.

“Dorian. Alphonse. What brings one of my best customers and suppliers here today? You said in the message it was important and you were calling in some favors. Maybe next time, leave out the favors and I won’t have to think you’re here for a bounty.”

Dorian leaned forward intently. “I got a line about a big deal going down. I want in.”

Oliver straightened his vest and turned on his console. “You are calling in favors, aren’t you? Means you want information or gear. Maybe both? Just tell me what you need.”

Dorian gestured to me. “What do you think of ol’ Oliver? Think he has what we need?”

I replayed the objects in the warehouse. “Oliver is a smuggler’s friend. I think they used to call that a Fence. I assume he also works in chopping and retrofitting. Then he resells for higher and turns a nice profit.”

Dorian nodded. “That sound like what you do, Oliver?”

Oliver smiled. “Always nice to see an old hand like you bringing up the next generation, though something seems different about this one. He’s special, I gather.”

“Gotta keep you in business, eh?” replied my partner.

Oliver smirked at me. “I have a thought I’m not going to keep to myself. You tell me what you need, and I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He turned his attention to Dorian. “Unless you think your helper here can guess that too.”

A frown formed on Dorian’s face. “I hear there is a sale going down on Din. Top-dollar goods from a seller that’s been making a name for herself out here. I have parties interested in getting to that sale. I need information and at least two invites to the table. Three if you can manage.”

Oliver started clicking through information on his console. “Big ask. I’m going to say this makes us square if I can pull it off. And seeing as I made a promise, I’ll let you in on my secret.”

Dorian didn’t react. They were speaking, not so much in code, but in the mutually understood language of a shared history. Except for the secret. This was new. Oliver was offering it as bait and Dorian wasn’t picking it up, assuming it was a trap that would lead into a rabbit hole of tit-for-tat favors.

“This secret has nothing to do with the past.” I looked at Dorian and winged up an eyebrow. “He’s not trying to tip the scales. He has something he thinks will put you in your place. There is no mistaking that kind of grin.”

Oliver looked from me to Dorian. “Your new help is shockingly perceptive.” His inflection on “shockingly” hinted at something more, but I was more interested in getting this conversation completed.

“Go ahead then. What’s this secret you’re so keen on sharing, old friend?”

Oliver’s smile widened into a crass expression of naked ambition. “Your ship is one of the worst-named vessels I’ve ever encountered. For years, I thought you were putting me on with it. But I have it on good authority that you don’t know what it means.”

Dorian looked a touch unsettled. He pushed himself off the wall and his hands moved in front of him into an unconscious defensive position. “What the hell are you on about?”

“I talked to a friend of an acquaintance of a former roommate. You know how these things go. And they let me in on the little fib that dealer in Lorangia told you about your ship’s name.”

Dorian puffed up his chest and cracked a smile. He hesitated to fall back into his nonchalant stance. “MikroTrek? You have a problem with the Quick Journey?”

I frowned. “It’s ancient language. It means ‘Little Scoot.’”

Oliver burst out laughing.

Dorian reached for his gun and struggled to contain his embarrassment and rage. “What? No! The dealer told me it was old, yes, but … what does that even mean? Fine. So tiny ship, whatever. I don’t need a big ship to get the job done.”

Oliver laughed harder.

“It’s not that kind of scoot. It’s…” I was at a loss for how to break this to him. “It’s like what an animal does when it’s got something stuck on its rear. Your ship name translates to small need to wipe one’s ass.”

Dorian punched the wall. “That son of a …”

Oliver was practically purple now with strain from laughing. “Fifteen years I’ve known you and ten with that ship. It’s just too rich.”

I raised my arms in a deep shrug. “If Oliver had barely heard of the mistranslation, I doubt many others have either. It isn’t as if many people know how to translate the language of the ancients.”

By now, Dorian had composed himself. “I think I’m going to have to travel eight systems and shoot an oddly tall man in his face.”

Oliver tried to catch his breath. “Oh, don’t worry. He told me that tidbit as a bargaining chip while some … associates were extracting information from him. I held onto it because I wanted to see if it was true. Shame. If it had sounded more plausible, I might not have let the boys finish the job.” He shrugged. “Well, live and learn. Or learn, depending.”

Dorian shrugged. “Saves me a bullet. Now what can you tell me about the location of the buy?”

Oliver swiped tears from his face. “It will take more digging to get specifics for what you’re asking. What I can tell you now is there is a big to-do going down at a casino called the Black Orchid. This is a high-end establishment, relatively speaking. Built and funded by unsavory interests to squeeze money out of the work-a-day crowds around Din’s capital city, Celtan. It serves as the center for all operations for a syndicate run by Ferris Velio.”

“Any indication of extra security or mercs hitting the planet recently?” asked Dorian, all traces of humor gone.

Oliver tapped and swiped away at this console. “Prelim reports don’t show anything out of the ordinary. There is always some amount of merc activity out here. It will take time to determine if any of the recent arrivals are here specifically to backup Velio’s men. Even if I saw a spike, you say there is a big buy? Just as likely any extra muscle is here to guard the buyers.”

I nodded. “A lot of moving parts to consider. Tell us specifics. What is going on with the casino? The Black Orchid have a floor plan or updated schematics?”

Oliver chuckled. It was a bit raspy after his recent guffaw at Dorian. “Core world talk. Out here, things are more freewheeling. You can find a public record of the building, but I doubt it will even give you an adequate size for the perimeter, let alone the floor plans. Besides, that’s something for you to plan. I only deal in data.”

Dorian interrupted, “He’s right. Floorplans aren’t the real concern anyway. Doesn’t matter how the casino is laid out. It’s meant for public access. What keeps it secure is the staff and security tech. How many men does Velio employ, and can you get profile and histories on them?”

Oliver typed some information up then gave Dorian an appraising eye. “You’re hitting the limit of favors I owe,” he said in the oily tone. “However, if you want to get into the reverse, I can be persuaded.”

Dorian pushed himself off the wall. “Just the numbers and their histories. I’ll do my own leg work with the newbie here. Get what schematics you can. Alphonse, this is a good opportunity for you to learn some new approaches. And Oliver? The invites? Three if you can.”

I took the cue and got up from the couch. “Sorry, Dorian. I guess I have a lot to learn about work for pay out here. Not like the jobs we pulled in the core. Guess I’ll have to get my feet wet if I want useful intel. Next time you say you know an information broker, I hope you mean a professional.”

Oliver shot up from his desk, his face dark. “You don’t have an account here, kid. Normally, talk like that would put you in the red in my books. If you find any part of Dorian’s old ship seller, you can ask him how that goes.”

I met the squat man’s gaze and took a step toward his desk. In my periphery, I could see Dorian, seemingly unconcerned, watching to see which way this would go. “You can play the cozy-threat game with Dorian. I care about accurate information and people doing what they say. You don’t know me. I aim to make a living doing this and don’t plan on dying from lack of information.”

Oliver grinned but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing wrong with putting a greenie in their place. Remember that mutual respect is how professional relationships are forged. I assure you that whatever information I pass along will be accurate.”

A few more swipes and taps and the fence handed me a pile of low-end datapads with considerably less warmth than when he’d shook my hand. I wondered if I’d come across too brashly and alienated the man.

“There’s too much data for one pad. You’ll have to download everything from these onto something with more memory.”

“We’re done here,” said Dorian in a casual tone. “Oliver, we’ll be on-station for the cycle. Get me some more info and a way in, then we’ll see if you can get back to making money any time soon.”

Oliver didn’t say anything but dipped his chin curtly to acknowledge that he’d heard. I turned and walked out with Dorian.

He turned and grimaced at me. “You think you could have let me in on the ship name?”

I shrugged. “I really thought you knew. You should have picked up some Greek in training.”

Dorian fiddled with the cuff of his left sleeve. “Some training is more standardized than others. In the future, I’ll stick with names I know.”

7

We returned to our quarters on the ship instead of wasting credits for lodging on the station. It was interesting how little it felt like being in space from being on the docks. The gravity was still lower than a planet’s, but the sensation that I was one wall away from the darkness didn’t permeate. Lights on the dock never turned off since traffic continued at all hours, and it poured in through the viewport in my room.

I dumped the bag full of clothes that I’d bought onto the bed and got my pad out. It was secured with a channel to the Constables’ mainframe and archives, but if anyone but me or Dorian tried to access them it would just seem like a personal pad. I sat it on the small table near the window and sent the viewing signal to a holo display on the wall. It was a screen broadcasting selectable planetary scenery. I set it to a night sky and went about programming a new data pad from the pile Dorian had picked up as we left Oliver’s shop.

The next stage was simple: listen and watch what the Renegade agent was doing and generate a mission strategy. Dorian had left after dropping me off, citing a few other errands to complete on Taurus Station. My job was to figure out how much influence Evelyn might have in the area, spot her agents, and work out what she had planned, then come up with counter objectives.

Elated as I was about working on a real operation on this inaugural mission that would jumpstart my career as a Constable, I couldn’t help feeling apprehensive of the task before me. Evelyn was a cunning opponent that would be protected by cohorts working for her directly or by proxy. Anyone could be an ally or foe in planning our move. Even the allies I could trust weren’t working for her might be swayed to her side through charm or greed. She’d certainly done a good job of recruiting me. Even if they didn’t betray us for her, they might do so just for the take.

It was complicated working in the shadow of the law.

Still, I had trained for this. Selected for a natural talent to see through the people who stood to gain from playing outside the rules and working to cause harm for profit for its own sake.

I finished programming the data pad and started in on the second, pulling up the feed from Oliver’s data cache that he’d somehow managed to get from Black Orchid. The scene before we’d left the shop played again in my mind, and I regretted my sharp words. Dorian told me not to worry about it, but it still bothered me.

The second pad complete, I started in on the third. The cheap devices weren’t designed to hold the amount of data we were getting, so getting it off of them and onto the ship’s computer was tedious.

I turned on the final pad and got to work on the first step in the casino plan.

Searching the gal-net for any information I could find related to Ferris Velio only yielded basic results. He was originally from a core world, the son of a land magnate with connections to a Union diplomat working in the far rim. From there, he leveraged his father’s money into a successful series of hotels and short lease lodgings for miners, refinery workers, and other assorted working-class people.

Velio had expanded the business model a few years later. Though, from the rumors, it seemed like he just went public with his already established gambling and entertainment efforts. Like a certain class of robber baron from tales of old, Velio seemed to grasp that the quickest way to make money was to grift a large percentage of the cash being made by honest workers. He provided all manner of modern conveniences and creature comforts for an above average price. When the workers ran low on cash that they had handed or lost to him, he was even nice enough to issue some rather steep loans to tide them over to their next check.

Thus, the Black Orchid had been born.

It was distasteful, but also predictable out in the rim. Some of the casino owner’s activities were legal, but he had plenty of off-record transactions. The merging of the two showed he had business savvy, and the fact that he hadn’t been caught said he was street smart too. It also showed that the Union’s control wasn’t as far reaching as I’d initially believed.

Here I saw the dingy hand of the Union’s efforts to civilize the galaxy being used as an excuse. To live free, outside of control and rules of the government, brought fortune seekers and chisel-jawed workers. With that kind of overly earnest populace creating capital in far-off, and difficult to control, areas, the opportunists like Velio were quick to set up shop.

I sighed as I read through the reports. His more legitimate businesses were all run just to rule, skirting by cursory investigations and doing their best to not invite a deeper look. I would have to look it up through the Constable mainframe when we were off Taurus and back in the void. I expected to find evidence of more serious crime, such as human smuggling, antiquities theft, and a whole history of bribes and extortion.

For good measure, I made sure to look up more information on neutronium markets and uses. There were a few schematics for devices that needed neutronium, including an experimental fuel cell for runner and light freighter class ships. On a whim, I included some searches into upscale tea houses and bars in Celtan. Per Dorian’s request, I also perused a site for companion services. Clicking through the profiles of the women made me feel distinctly dirty, and I couldn’t help but think he’d done it to mess with me.

I considered this aspect of the plan. It rubbed me wrong from a professional and ethical standpoint. Working in the dark was necessary. That I understood from everything I had learned about the Constables and the history of galactic and world governments. Nothing that stood in the light could survive for long without action being taken on its behalf from compromising positions.

It was another thing to be doing those deeds. We would have to work outside the law in order to uphold the law, as we had been. A moral paradox for someone like me. It was a lot to take in and I sifted through the thoughts on autopilot, letting my mind work it out.

Our timeline was tight, and we had to operate in largely unknown territory. Knowing who was waiting to find us and drawing the opportunistic and less cautious ones in with what should look like an obvious ploy, was step one.

There was a chance that my searches could send up a flag since the gal-net was only so secure. Anyone monitoring these searches, such as Velio or those that sold information to him, would be quick to notice that someone was taking an interest.

Dorian’s thinking was that I also could use the training. The foolish and opportunistic were the rashest, the most likely to use violence as an opening negotiation. That would give me a chance to hone some fighting skills before we ran into the kinds of professionals that could be a real threat.

I opened my personal datapad and began to review my own file. A picture of the carnage on Meridian slid onto the screen and I flipped through them slowly as a reminder of why I was here. Remi’s image filled the screen next and I paused to study my old friend’s face.

I considered what Remi would think of this whole situation. What he might say if he knew I was posing as a Renegade. Or that I was traveling the galaxy in a ship with another old merc. He might even laugh and give me some pointers. Maybe he would think it was fitting.

The smile that had spread across my face at the memories faded as another thought surfaced. Maybe he would hate that I was working for the people that killed his family. I made a mental note to check the Constable archives. There might be some information out there that would provide some closure.

I had checked before but found I was barred from the search. Shaw clearly didn’t want me to dwell. Or maybe he was just waiting to give me a look at that after Evelyn. A problem for a future time.

My comm beeped in my ear and startled me. It was new and, though I’d learned how to use them in class, still foreign. I couldn’t stop the grin though. The mission was a series of firsts and I enjoyed them all.

“Hey Al, I’m on my way back with the badges,” said Dorian. “Keep an eye out so you can let me in.

“Copy that,” I replied. The line shut off just as my datapad went off.

It was a message from Trinidad.

Could only get two badges. They will get you in a prelim meeting only. The powers behind this sale are exceedingly paranoid, so watch your back. They’re having a pre-sale to get to the real one. Those badges will get you into a warehouse on the outskirts of Celtan in three days. You better get moving.

* * *

Dorian called on the comms thirty minutes later. “Bad news, Alphonse. Someone locked out the lift and I’m stuck a few levels away from the docks. Going to try and find an access shaft and use the manual override. Hold out until I get there.”

I stood up and started to put on my boots. “Did Trinidad betray you? I can come help.”

Dorian kept his voice calm. “These things happen. Stay on the ship and stay calm. You want to direct the action, but this isn’t the time.” He sounded casual but there was a slight tremor to his voice that sounded like worry. “I made a leader and two bigger guys. From their uniforms, they seem local. I can’t be certain of their training or arms at the moment.”

He went silent then and all I could hear was a low buzz on the line. Concern for my Vetus sent nerves needling through me and it occurred to me that if things went wrong here, I might be on my own.

The momentary panic subsided when I heard muffled voices in the background. He’d gone mute to avoid detection. Smart.

“What’s your status, Dorian?” I asked when it was quiet again.

“I’ve come to an access shaft and found the bypass. I heard them mention Trinidad, so it stands to reason they’re Renegades or after the same thing we are. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“That’s going to be minutes too late,” said a gruff voice that was definitely not my partner’s.

I was blind to the situation but could make out the sound of grunts and bangs as bodies collided with each other or the surroundings, it was hard to tell. Feeling helpless, I jumped up and ran from my room.

“Hold on, Dorian, I’m on my way.”

“No! Don’t—” The rest of his response was cut off as the Constable fought off the attackers.

Already in the cargo bay, my hand hovered over the manual control to open the ramp as I debated internally what to do. We might be acting like partners, but the older man was still my superior. If I moved swiftly, I might make it in time to help, but if they took me captive or killed me the mission would fail. Alternatively, I might make it to find Dorian perfectly fine. Then I’d be reprimanded for ignoring an order.

As the scuffle continued, Remi came to mind, and how I’d failed to save him. Doing nothing might be signing the death warrant for Vetus Dorian Tribal, who I considered to be the far greater asset between us.

The decision was easy now. Mind made up, I pressed the door control.

“Stand clear, cargo bay opening,” the ship’s computer chimed helpfully.

Dorian must have heard it because he cursed. “Dammit, kid. Big picture!” he barked over the comm.

I hesitated and came to a stop halfway down the ramp. I recalled his words to me as we’d flown around the Red Tower, before our meeting with Shaw.

You’re going to have to make the hard decisions, but in a way that the populace will be better off…

Swallowing hard, I retreated back to the cargo bay. Hoping it was the right thing to do, I pressed the button one more time and watched as the ramp closed and the docks disappeared from view.

8

The comm went quiet again less than a minute later and I strained to hear any clue as to what had happened.

“Al, your ass better still be on that ship,” Dorian warned, panting heavily after the impromptu workout.

I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed a fraction. “I am. Are you good?” I asked, not sure of his condition.

“Sure am. These guys aren’t. I’m going to clean this up, then I’ll be back. Did the ship get refueled yet?”

“Yes. All set there,” I answered after a quick check of the logs.

“Good, make sure we’re ready to go the minute I get back,” he ordered, then cut the transmission.

Starting in the cargo bay, I worked my way methodically through the Mikro and secured anything that wasn’t already buttoned up. Since there was only the two of us aboard and we were used to living minimally, I finished the task quickly before making my way to the bridge.

Once there, I completed all the pre-flight checks and alerted the dock master of our departure plans. Luckily for us, the wait time was only a matter of minutes. With nothing left to do but wait, I settled into my chair and ran through the mission mentally.

I wasn’t at it long when an alert popped up on the holo display to let me know that the cargo door was open. Erring on the side of caution, I checked the feed to make sure it was him. He looked a little worse for wear, though not as bad as I’d expected.

Less than two minutes later, I could hear the echo of his footsteps and then he was on the bridge and strapping into the captain’s chair.

“You check everything?” he asked, his hands moving over the controls in a blur.

“Yes, Dorian. Dock master is just waiting on your signal, then we can leave.”

The look on his face didn’t invite more discussion, so I remained quiet as we unclamped from the dock and eased into traffic. To anyone else, Dorian wouldn’t have looked flustered; on the contrary, the senior Constable exuded a calm that would rival most holy men. But I wasn’t anyone else. A vein in his neck throbbed faster than usual, and his breathing came in even breaths too perfectly timed to be natural. He favored the left arm so subtly that I almost missed it, but I didn’t comment until we were clear of Taurus and in the next slip tunnel.

“I can patch that up,” I offered, once it was safe to leave our seats.

Dorian shook his head. “Nah, it’s alright. Just a scratch. Trinidad came through. Here’s your badge.” He pulled a small card from his pocket and passed it to me.

I took it from him and examined the ID. On Meridian, working with Evelyn and Remi, it had been easy to romanticize a life of crime with its enticing thrills and promise of credits. A year spent training to be a Union agent had drastically altered my ideals, and now it seemed wrong to pose as a criminal to meet our own means.

My struggle must have showed because Dorian placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Sometimes a Constable has to put aside personal baggage to get the job done. We all make concessions and cross lines to make the mission successful. You just learn to live with it, Al.”

“I understand. I have to get used to this since lying and deception aren’t really my strong suit. Usually I’m the one to catch those things and call the person on it.”

Dorian stared at me for a full second before bursting into laughter. “You’re far better than you think if the records from Meridian are to be believed. Don’t worry, Al. You’ll find your way. We all do, eventually.”

* * *

The next day, I sat in my room poring over the mission dossier and the new information we’d received when Dorian hailed me over my room’s comm.

“Alphonse, get down here. Time to train.”

“On my way.” I donned some nondescript PT clothes and wound through the ship until I found Dorian in the training room.

It was usually outfitted with a variety of exercise equipment, but he had stored it in favor of a training mat that took up almost the entire room.

My partner had chosen similar attire and was already standing in the middle of the mat, barefoot and waiting. I kicked off my own footwear and joined him.

“This general training or did you have something specific to teach me, Vetus?” I drawled out the title to let him know it was a jibe.

Dorian bounced up and down and smiled. “I’ve already stretched and gotten set. You’re going into this cold?”

“No,” I said, feeling a little sheepish that I’d forgotten the first rule of any exercise.

I put myself through some stretches, feeling increasingly awkward as the other man studied me. Then he smirked, just a tiny lift in the corner of his mouth, and I realized he’d been doing it on purpose. It had almost worked. Almost. Not letting on that I’d noticed, I intentionally stumbled through the movements to make Dorian think he’d succeeded in throwing me off and waited for an opening. The fight in Percy’s had served to bolster my confidence and I allowed myself a small smile as well.

“C’mon, kid. We’re going to make it to Din before you’re ready,” the other man complained.

He’d gotten comfortable waiting and dropped his guard just enough. I surged forward and aimed a low kick at his shin while using my fist to jab him in the stomach. When my hand met only air, I realized my mistake, but not quick enough to stop Dorian from performing a throw that put me on my back.

“Again,” he ordered, then stepped back to let me get up.

Now that I knew my partner was using my skill to his advantage, I took more time to study my opponent as we circled each other. He still favored the left arm but was doing a decent job of hiding it. He shifted his stance often so that it was hard to determine which he might lead with, but I noticed that when I moved in his right leg moved back and his heel came up just slightly.

I moved in to attack again and went to sweep his right leg. I connected this time, but only slightly, and he danced away before spinning inward and raised his leg, bringing it down on me to perform a swift axe kick. I caught the foot with my hands, but the strike still carried enough force to pin me.

Dorian stepped back again, releasing me from beneath his foot, and I stood up, propping my hands on my knees to catch my breath again.

“You’re missing opportunities, Malloy,” the Vetus criticized.

“I’m trying. Hand to hand wasn’t exactly my best class,” I said.

He nodded. “So I read. Which is why you need more practice. You’re not a great fighter, but you can be.”

The words weren’t an insult, just an observation, so I didn’t let it bother me.

“I know, I know. They drilled it into me at the Red Tower. More sparring, more muscle boosters.”

Now Dorian shook his head and tapped a finger to his chin thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think you need all that. Tell me, what do you excel at?”

It seemed an easy question and I answered immediately. “Observation and deduction. I’m already employing those skills when I fight, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”

“That’s because you’re only looking at superficial things. When you study an adversary it’s all over your face.” He gestured at my face to emphasize his point. “I could see your eyes calculating your next move and anticipate where you were going to strike. It should be the opposite.”

I shrugged, frustrated. “I thought I was already doing that.”

“You are,” he agreed. “Just not well enough. Run me through your thought process for that last bout.”

Trying not to show my mounting irritation, I did.

When I’d finished, he grimaced and moved forward. “Any seasoned fighter could do that,” he said. “That’s child’s play for you. This time, I want you to think further ahead. Don’t just anticipate my first moves. Incorporate your moves and my response.”

It made sense and I chided myself for not thinking of it.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded and started circling again, trying to do what he’d told me.

“Let’s start with a handicap,” Dorian suggested. “I’ll give you an opening for a head strike. You anticipate the next few steps.”

This time, I played the sequence out in my head. Me going for the strike, him blocking it and retaliating with a punishing cross right to avoid using his injured left arm. It clicked then and I smiled as the rest of the scene unfolded in my mind.

As promised, he dropped his guard and I moved in. As I’d predicted, he blocked the punch and brought his right fist around to counter. I shoved my left arm up, deflecting the blow, then crouched and delivered a rib shot that had him grunting. Instead of stumbling back, disoriented, as I’d envisioned, he tightened his core and absorbed the hit.

Taking advantage of my surprise, he brought a knee up and connected with my jaw. I staggered back and Dorian kicked my diaphragm hard enough that I fell on my rear. No serious damage, but my pride certainly hurt.

I took his offered hand and stood up, gasping. “Guess that was a bust.”

“Not at all,” he contradicted. His expression read as approval and that made me feel a little better. “You took my advice and that’s more than some who think they know it all. You’ll learn. And boy, they better watch out once you do.”

Dorian’s muscles tightened ever so slightly, and I leaned back just in time to dodge the incoming fist. Next, he sidestepped to the right, but I anticipated the feint. In my mind’s eye, I saw him pivot and attack from the left. If I moved in the direction he was pushing me, I could expect a blow to land squarely on my cheek. To counteract this, I would block with one arm … no that wasn’t right. If I did that, he’d just counter with the opposite hand. But if I blocked the first then waited until he came at me with the other fist, I could block that as well and disrupt his momentum. Then I could use my own momentum to bring one elbow up and connect with his jaw.

It played out perfectly, until I attempted the elbow strike. He leaned back and I missed completely. I’d been so confident that all the power behind it threw me off balance and he swept my feet out from under me.

“Much better,” he said with a big grin. “The other lesson there is that you may not have time to study and anticipate. In those moments, you’ll have to make split-second decisions. Added to that, your opponent may not react as you thought they would.”

“This is fast becoming apparent,” I grumbled, feeling somewhat deflated.

“Hey, chin up, Al. You’re not bad. Good enough to take out a couple drunks in a bar, at least.” He winked knowingly.

So, the Vetus had seen the fight. “I’ll strive to improve,” I promised, humbled. “It would help if I weren’t so skinny.”

Dorian moved to a closet and grabbed a couple towels, then threw me one.

“Alphonse, you can’t think of your size as a limitation. A blow in the right place will still do damage. You need to concentrate on your intent. You already know how this works in macro. You hit the defenses of a building at their weakest point. You circumvent systems. You take the shortest paths in and out.”

I nodded and wiped sweat from my brow. “Military training is just espionage with different wording.”

He gave me his cocky smirk. “Kid, it’s the reason they pair us like this. Wetwork--or assassinations, if we’re being blunt--happens when a carefully imagined plan gets executed by people with instinct and determination. If you’re going to be an effective Constable, you learn to do both.”

“I have some ideas on that,” I announced, switching gears. “The casino is going to be a hard target. I put together some rough ideas by cross referencing some old files from the archives. We need to establish ourselves to Velio and any of the other cutouts Evelyn is using to screen the buyers. I have no illusions that she won’t see me coming. However, I think she will toy with me rather than stop me outright.”

Dorian considered the information carefully. “Official records, if she could even get her hands on those, show you escaping while being transferred from Meridian to a black site. I doubt she would imagine you were recruited and have been in training. Shaw said as much.”

“I think we’re going to need to get a few locals into the mix to make it look like we have more support and a larger plan. We want her to feel as powerful as possible.”

Dorian cleared the table. “If we even get that far. First, we have to deal with this pre-buy meet. Best you hit your bunk and ice up. We’ve got work to do.”

9

Over the next day we focused on strategizing for the upcoming auction. Our plan included contingencies for possible issues we might run into and backup plans for the contingencies. Then, when we’d finished, I ran through it with Dorian again, looking for holes and weaknesses.

After some time, it all started to get a little fuzzy, and Dorian proposed a sparring match so I could practice anticipating our bouts.

“Yeah, Al, that’s it! Way to use that big brain of yours,” he said from his position on the mat.

I’d finally succeeded in countering all his advances, and after throwing him to the ground, I leaned forward to help him up. His eyes glinted with mischief and I saw he meant to pull me down. I spun around and put his arm in a lock, then released quickly so as not to strain anything. Any injury at this point would only spell trouble later.

Dorian scrambled to his feet and smoothed out his clothes. “Great job, Malloy. Seriously. You picked that up way faster than I thought you would. Go ahead and smile, you’ve earned a pat on the back.”

In an effort to be humble I tried to be stoic but couldn’t suppress the grin at his urging. It felt damn good too.

“Captain Tribal, we are nearing the final SG point that will take us to Din,” announced the ship’s A.I in a flat, robotic tone. “ETA forty-five minutes.”

“Good way to end the day,” declared Dorian in a cheerful voice. “Get cleaned up and meet on the bridge in thirty.”

I nodded and tossed the towel I’d been using into the laundry bin. “Dorian, thanks for all your help.”

He lifted a shoulder and smiled. “Don’t even worry about it. That’s my job as your Vetus and fellow Constable. I’m sure you’ve heard it a million times. We’re only as good as our weakest link. Only good can come from you getting better.”

“Still, I appreciate it. See you on the bridge.”

I turned to leave but Dorian spoke again. “That’s not the only reason I’m working with you. I know you feel guilty about before and you’re trying to atone. Not a lot of people would have taken the deal and changed their life around. You did and that says a lot about your character. Alphonse Malloy, you’re okay in my mind.”

I wanted to thank him, but the words stuck in my throat, so I simply inclined my head and shuffled off.

* * *

Three hours later we were burning toward Din, a tiny prick of light in the endless black. When we got close enough for their sensors to detect us, the navigation console lit up with a dozen warning vectors and red zones.

Dorian slowed the ship and drifted into a wide arc. “Din is the most populated planet on this side of the Deadlands. It operates as a trading hub for many of the deeper operatives of the Deadlands. They have a small but effective fleet doing patrol sweeps. Mostly, they protect the red zones, places where resources mined or refined on-planet are shot into orbit to be gathered and then loaded onto bulk freighters, which will haul them to places like Taurus Station to transport to the core worlds.”

I indicated a safe vector and sent a transponder code requesting planetary approach. “That seems like a lot of fuel and energy to travel slowly instead of putting in a dedicated slipspace pathway.”

Dorian followed the trail I projected into his monitor. “Sure, but this gives the Union a few advantages. One, it keeps radicals and fringe elements safely away from the transport stations. They can see attack forces mounting from a lot further off. It also lets them spin their corona of protection. Why be a part of the Deadlands, the rim, or the fringe, when you could be a core world? The more planets and systems that join, the stronger and wider the core becomes.”

“It also gives the independence seekers something to strive for. It’s boring to be a part of the safe and tame and regulated core worlds when you can seek your fortune in the outlaw badlands.”

“Right. For criminals and those wanting to make a few quick credits, Celtan has a lot to offer. Besides the casinos there’s a thriving red-light district and black market,” I recalled from the data.

A ship no bigger than the MikroTrek sailed into a guard position above us. They started a passive scan that turned invasive after the initial pulse. “Looks like they aren’t playing by regulations.”

Dorian flipped a switch, activating a low power stealth field to interfere with the scan in key places around our engines and power conduits. “It’s their own personal defense fleet. They’re just sniffing us to see which kind of bad news we are. It’s important we look like the useful kind.”

I nodded. “Track along this new vector, it will bypass a second scanning satellite in our immediate path.”

Dorian did as I indicated. “Nice touch. Makes us look more sophisticated. Better pay in that.”

The guard ship finished its scan and peeled off. New vectors turned green as we entered low orbit. I locked a shallow pass vector that would loop us through several thousand kilometers in a slow spiral ending in Celtan. “Course set, boss.”

The ship bounced and lurched as we hit Din’s upper ionosphere. The consoles blipped off and on. The engines burned brighter and then shifted as they cut out and started up again.

I checked our heading. “Reentry clear, still on vector.”

Dorian throttled forward and we began to glide over the irregular surface of the planet. “Din, population 6.5 million,” announced the computer. “Of that, two million are located in the immediate vicinity of Celtan. 1.1 gravity, so please be mindful of your joints. Enjoy a 26.3-hour day with a partial dip out of the habitable zone. Atmosphere holds through the dark phase, and overall planet temperature is quite pleasant.”

I was already well aware of this information, having read about Din the moment we hit the ship after receiving our mission.

“Scans are picking up lots of dark areas. Shielding or interference?” inquired Dorian.

“A little of both,” I answered. “More legitimate concerns are obviously employing shielding to keep them from being targets. The less legitimate are jamming scans so they can maintain hidden work camps and bunkers. You go a few miles out of the city, and you can be certain to have a weapon pointed at you from a hundred hidden places.”

“What am I seeing down there?” I indicated some obvious structures and some irregularly shaped geological formations.

“The buildings are refineries and mines. That clump of small rectangles would be one of Velio’s roughneck parks. A string of small, sturdy, but not reinforced structures was formed around a hover tram station. You can see the route here. That will terminate closer to the city and his carnival of ways for workers to lose their money.”

He throttled up again and cut a section of the vector. “I had an unpleasant experience near here with an anti-air cannon. Never did figure out what it was about. It’s best to keep clear.”

I checked the vector and inserted notes. “There. Next time you come here, it won’t even plot this far out.”

He laughed. “If you want to do it the easy way. No sense of adventure there. Anyway, the geology here has some instability. Another group of people you will catch limping into the Deadlands are archeologists and ruin hunters. A lot of artifacts get found out there. Makes me think there is some truth to the rumors about Din’s orbital position.”

I recalled the files from the Red Tower archive. Some planets with oddly elliptical or otherwise unprecedented orbits were thought to have been moved intentionally by some race in the distant past. One particular hypothesis suggested such worlds were possessed of a basic volition. A type of consciousness that allowed them to perceive the universe like a thinking agent.

“Final arc and then we head for a berth outside of Celtan’s southwest corridor.”

“Any reason you chose that as our landing zone?”

Dorian smirked. “Let’s just say it has better parking.”

* * *

The better parking that Dorian had referred to turned out to be a personal port that was courtesy of Oliver Trinidad. With the codes and coordinates he’d supplied, we breezed through the security protocols and were directed to the private landing strip.

Dorian set the ship down after nearly scraping an energy cell off the port side and chuckled. “It’s a bit tighter in here than I’d like. Do you think the ship’s put on weight?”

I rolled my eyes. “Maybe the pilot is just getting old.”

“Haha, Malloy, you’re a damn riot. Let’s go.”

Unlike the stop at Taurus Station, this was going to be a longer stay. We packed our clothing accordingly, at least I did, and loaded the kit box with supplies from the armory. Not wanting to leave anything on the ship that would reveal our true intentions, Dorian made the ship’s computer inaccessible to any who might enter. The Union had provided a piece of tech that would render the AI inoperable and dump the computer’s memory if the failsafe was tripped.

After the MikroTrek had been sufficiently secured, Dorian directed a tech to get our gear onto a land hover transport. We drove in silence for thirty minutes, after which he pulled onto a side road.

“Gotta take a leak,” he said easily, slanting me a look.

“Hurry up, will ya? I have to go too,” I said with a touch of dramatic impatience as we both got out.

He’d explained beforehand that prior to speaking, the car should be swept for listening devices or spyware. This had been taught at the Red Tower as standard operating procedure and I observed diligently as he went through the motions of scanning the land vehicle.

It didn’t take long to find the first, a tiny device disguised as a decoration in the driver side headrest. A check of the passenger side yielded its twin. By the time we’d resumed our travel, seven pieces of spyware had been found and left on the side of the road.

It took another hour of driving before the city of Celtan became visible, its tallest of the buildings appearing to scrape at the pale blue sky above.

The city began as such cities do, with the outskirts being ever cheaper housing tossed up in larger and larger blocks of cloned floor plans. It wasn’t too different from the arrangement of the Union worlds. As we pressed in from the rim to the fringes, the buildings got bigger, some older and others more modern. After that, we entered another section of the city, its original structures all torn out and refashioned—the historical district, the system called it. Beyond that, towers and sprawling commercial centers occupied the heart of the city, its busy streets and intersections overrun with pedestrians and traffic.

If I’d thought the terrace at the Red Tower and Taurus station had been frenetic, Celtan was on a whole new level. The place pulsed with energy as people rushed to and from their obligations, barely bothering to look at one another.

Dorian maneuvered the transport up to a stark white edifice of a hotel with a large awning, black against the opulent synthetic marble. Shiny laminate decorated the visible window spaces and a gold revolving door manned by a pair of white gloved attendants marked the entrance. Curling holo letters on the awning read: The Prime Lady.

One of the doormen rushed to open the door of our posh vehicle. I noticed a slight change in the man’s demeanor when we stepped out, one that I read as disapproval. Thanks to my Constable training, I no longer had to rely on my gut to interpret micro expressions. The doorman’s facial features had raised ever so slightly. The wrinkling around the nose and way he showed his teeth read clearly as disgust. He didn’t want us to be here. A well-practiced smile replaced the negative look an instant later and the attendant moved to help with our things.

Din’s weather stayed warm and arid throughout its orbit and today was no exception. The heat was almost oppressive coming at me like a cocoon of dry dust. It didn’t surprise me as I’d learned from my study that deserts and plateaus made up much of the planet.

The door slid open automatically and allowed us to enter before carrying us inside to the massive lobby. Just as grand as the outside, it spoke of wealth and privilege. I caught our reflection in one of the mirrored walls and the attendant’s initial aversion made sense.

We looked like street urchins in comparison to the other patrons. So much for blending.

I followed Dorian, who seemed either oblivious or simply didn’t care, to the concierge, while I studied the room’s occupants. Nobody looked nervous or suspicious and I counted at least thirty bodies in the room. I heard the host tell my partner that our rooms were still being readied and for us to relax anywhere we liked. The Constable opted for a standing position near the back of the room. A strategic choice that offered a clear view of the exit and most of the lobby.

It was on my second sweep of the space that I noticed the woman. The fancy black dress she wore fit like a glove and the only jewelry I noted was a simple necklace with a pendant bearing a shield. Rich brunette hair cascaded down to her waist and I could just make out the smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

She stood at the far end of the room, her gaze sliding from person to person. When it landed on me, her brows arched up and she locked ice blue eyes with mine before she moved on. I couldn’t be sure from this distance, but she looked nervous.

Odd, I thought. Maybe I should—

“Your rooms are ready, sir.” The host had reappeared, and I pushed off the wall.

Dorian accepted our door cards and codes, then began to gather our things again. Wanting one last look at the mysterious woman, I brought my attention back to where she’d been standing only moments before.

She was gone.

I scanned the room again but didn’t find her. Either she’d gone to her own room or—the exit! Of course. There she was, or the back of her anyway, leaving the building.

Though I couldn’t say why, the woman’s image stayed with me all the way to our rooms.

10

After another sweep for hidden equipment, Dorian and I only unpacked the necessary items.

“In case we have to leave quickly,” my partner explained. “Then time won’t be wasted looking for shit we can’t leave behind.”

I’d noticed that while performing his duties as a Vetus at the Red Tower, he never cursed or acted unprofessionally. Out here, pretending to be a Renegade, however, he had adopted a gruff personality who swore with the best—or worst—of them.

We spent the next few hours before the scheduled meet time refining our plan.

“Smart idea not to show your face yet,” Dorian remarked.

I had proposed staying in the vehicle and observing while he went in alone. As soon as Evelyn became aware of my presence, if she wasn’t already, she might go on the defensive. It would be better to keep her in the dark as long as possible.

When it was time, we left the hotel and I drove to the meeting location.

“Put it over there,” Dorian instructed, gesturing to a spot outside the south fence of the warehouse. A line of other personal transports clung in a rough circle around the building. Just as we had been out of place ourselves, the luxury vehicles also didn’t mesh with their dingy surroundings.

I shook my head and adjusted the display in front of me, which was connected to a mini holo cam that was disguised as a button on Dorian’s jacket. It was another Union special, designed to avoid all but the most advanced sensors. Unfortunately, this required a lower resolution, so the picture wasn’t very clear.

“I’m ready to go,” I said after a few test runs.

Dorian exited the vehicle and strode toward the warehouse. Once I lost visual on him, I switched to viewing his single camera feed.

He was met immediately by tough looking security who stopped him and ran scanners over every centimeter of his frame.

“You’re clear,” one of them said, waving him in.

Activity within the building was already troublesome. So far, six groups had collected inside the warehouse and I pegged them all as buyers from the looks of anticipation and swanky clothing. One group had what looked like a private bodyguard along. If security was hiding in the rest of the warehouse, they were doing so out of my limited line of sight.

Dorian was dressed in what he called “scrapper chic.” This look consisted of his usual coat, but instead of a jumpsuit, he wore a collared shirt over his light armor. Mostly, he looked uncomfortable, which was the best part of the cover. “Look like you don’t want to be there, and go a step further, like being there is causing you pain. Everyone ignores that guy out of a deep-seated need not to deal with it.” Pearls of wisdom that seemed forced but relevant.

I opened the comms. “Keeping the channel open from here,” I said once he was in a relatively empty area. “Just a heads up, I think at least one of the groups is considering overt action. Check your six for the pair of muscles behind you.”

Dorian turned around nonchalantly so I could get a better look at the two men. While everyone else looked excited, these guys looked aggressive and poised for a fight. They were definitely up to something.

The other buyers stayed segregated into their groups and sipped on drinks supplied by a bar at one end of the room. No sign of Evelyn or any of the men employed by Ferris Velio. I checked the external camera on our transport and didn’t see any new transports or ships. The meeting was scheduled to start in a few minutes.

“Dorian, something doesn’t feel right. Could you take a turn around the room, maybe introduce yourself? I’d like a better look at who’s there.”

He responded by going to the bar and ordering a beer. Probably a good way to open a dialogue.

Drink firmly in hand, my partner set off and approached a male and female pair that I judged to be intimate from their close proximity to one another.

Dorian waved an arm, then addressed the couple. “You two don’t have the rough and tumble look. Let me guess, you want the goods for some middleman purpose.”

The ruse worked. The couple faced Dorian enough for me to grab a proper image.

I cross-checked it with the Constable archives. “You are talking to Ilsten and Laurina,” I informed him. “Former Union engineers from the Province System. They headed up a slipspace research group until their disregard for protocol obliterated a test vessel. They avoided prison by claiming incompetence, but rumors persist they are still doing dangerous slipspace experiments.”

Dorian gave Ilsten a sudden slap on the arm. “Whatever experiments you have, cloaks are likely to make you tenfold the cash. Probably got some deep pocket investors to go with that.”

I saved the image and archived it for others to deal with. We had a mission. He gave Dorian a condescending look. “I think you’re right. We are here with grand plans in mind, but isn’t everyone? Except maybe you, Renegade. Your need to hide cargo is nothing compared to our designs.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I guess we’ll see what happens when the bidding begins.”

The camera jostled slightly, and I guessed that the Constable had shrugged dismissively before he turned and headed toward the other lone man.

All I could see was the back of the man’s head, but the size of the skull gave me a clear impression it was Arturo Hyak, a smuggler whose profile had been on the list of possible buyers. “Can you confirm that the man you are approaching has a scar along his left temple and a pale patch under his bottom lip?”

Dorian strode past the man then jerked to a stop. What was he doing? The camera rotated slightly as if he was turning his head to look back.

Not very subtle, I mused. Then the camera swiveled and I could see the other man’s face clearly.

“Hyak, you cunning bastard. I shoulda known I would see you here.” I could tell from his tone that he was smiling.

It was definitely Hyak. He waved Dorian over in a wide, friendly greeting. “Dorian Tribal! You’re the last person I expected to see here. You hear about this from Oliver?”

Dorian reached him then and the two exchanged a hearty handshake. “Of course. Even a piece of the goods should help me with a few projects. You?”

The large man nodded. “I have some destinations in mind for resale but can always retool the old girl if I need to.”

Dorian leaned in to whisper enigmatically to Hyak. “Maybe we should go in together. Give us a fighting chance against some of these others. Fifty-fifty?”

Hyak shook his head. “A tempting offer, but I hear we’ll all get a piece as long as you can make the minimum. Hush hush.”

This was news. And interesting news at that. If Hyak was telling the truth, it meant Evelyn was up to something, though I didn’t have enough information to guess what that might be.

One of the other buyers must have tried to get Hyak’s attention then because his eyes seemed to focus on something over Dorian’s shoulder.

“Well, Tribal, it was good to see you. I have to cut this short, but let’s meet up for a drink after the meeting, eh? The large man clapped Dorian on the shoulder then moved out of sight again.

Before Dorian could move away, someone called out his name.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the part time Renegade,” purred a female voice.

I didn’t get a chance to see her face before a pair of barely contained breasts pressed into the camera. Caught unprepared and unsure what to do, I raised my gaze to the transport ceiling. I only risked a glance when I heard my partner speak again.

“I didn’t know you were on-world, Dawn. Last I saw, you were trying to unload several thousand Julier devices.”

“Who, me?” the woman’s voice tinkled out in a playful tone.

Dawn was pale with high cheekbones and dark hair in a long braid. She wore a light grey casual suit and deck boots, and she had a kit bag strapped across her left shoulder to her right hip.

I pulled up a matching file for Dawn Mayer. Her profile listed the woman as a trader, with a few infractions for miscounted cargo but nothing else of interest. I didn’t bother to say this to Dorian as he already seemed to know her.

“I don’t need to be reminded of the kinds of problems you get yourself into, Dawn. You looking at this cargo for yourself or got a client in the pipe?”

Dawn shook her head and pulled a smoke from her bag. She took a few puffs and offered it to Dorian, who declined. “Now now. Friends only share so much. I can say that the product won’t stay in my hands for long.”

Dorian nodded. “This an on-delivery deal, or do you have an advance?”

She merely smiled and put out the cigarette. “Boy, aren’t we inquisitive tonight? You’ll see my cards when I’m in the game, same as everyone else here. For now, I think you should be more interested in those three.” She pointed to the only group in the room with their own security. “That’s the competition with an agenda.”

Due to the woman’s exceeding height, I couldn’t get an adequate view of her face to see if she was being honest. I saw Dorian’s hand reach out and grasp Dawn’s in a friendly farewell, then they parted ways. It was to my great relief that no hugs were exchanged.

As Dorian went on the prowl again, the pair of plainly dressed but obviously dangerous men I’d pointed out before came into view. They were facing each other, but it was clear they were casing the rest of the room while coming off as disinterested. From their easy movements and outward calm, they had practice with this kind of surveillance. I doubted anyone but me realized they were up to something.

I was able to grab a halfway decent image of the one facing across the camera when Dorian got a little closer. Since he didn’t say anything, I doubted he knew either of the two men.

“Got it,” I said triumphantly. “You also have two splinter pirates in your midst. Brothers. Jamma and Olip Narugg. A lot a pirate groups could do with some unregistered slipspace engines, and I’m confident they have backup somewhere.”

Dorian didn’t approach the men and instead walked by to deposit his now empty beer bottle into one of the waste receptacles. Before he could continue making the rounds, a chime rang. I checked the external feed and saw a new vehicle was now parked right at the northern exposure of the warehouse. A sallow young man exited it and entered through a hidden entrance disguised as a pair of barrels and a crate. We’d missed that.

“Heads up, Dorian, looks like Evelyn’s cutout has arrived.”

The man came into view of the Constable’s hidden cam and walked to the center of the room. I had hoped it would be Evelyn herself, but it made more sense for her to send someone in her stead. Before his arrival the room had buzzed with hushed conversation and whispered plans. When the lights brightened, all talk came to an abrupt halt.

The cutout was hard to see but I didn’t recognize him. The collection of buyers stood waiting for him to speak.

He smiled and spread his hands wide before addressing the room in an engaging voice. It made me think of Quintin Dallas and I wondered if he was an actor or did this as a living.

“As you are aware, the party I represent has been selling a valuable commodity. You have been selected as trustworthy buyers with an interest in this product. You have the means to use it, and most importantly, the credits to afford a seat at the table.”

He paused and added a dramatic flourish, sweeping the room with his left arm. “What you may not know is that the deal is sweeter than what has been offered to others at past sales. The party has a new and even more lucrative use for the commodity. A use that has increased the value to a point where trustworthiness can’t hope to be maintained.”

Dorian had positioned himself at the back of the small crowd. Thankfully they were spread out enough that I could see more than just their backs. The additional light also helped to clear up the picture, and I studied the scene.

There was a pause. To their credit, the collection of professionals and criminals didn’t mumble to each other or show signs of alarm. They simply waited for the next piece of information.

Then, a sudden movement that I barely caught. I knew Dorian must have seen it too because he moved. One of the two brothers had apparently decided this was the time to move and rushed the host.

The pirate grabbed the cutout and pulled him in with one arm around the man’s neck and a gun in his free hand. “Everyone stand down!”

“How the hell did he get that past the guards?” I muttered. I recalled the way the two men had been standing close to one another at the bar. I knew they hadn’t been engaging in actual conversation but had stupidly assumed they were surveilling like Dorian. Now I realized that they had been assembling the gun, likely with seemingly innocuous pieces that made it through security.

Dorian had yet to act and had gone completely still while the brother I’d now identified as Olip dragged the noticeably shaken host off the stage. “Everyone stay where you are. I just need this one. You’re going to lose your prize, but nobody has to lose their lives over this.”

Understanding dawned later than I cared to admit because I’d assumed everyone had seen what I had. The idiot brothers thought taking this man hostage would force Evelyn’s hand, but they didn’t realize she didn’t care if her hired help lived or died.

Hell, she didn’t care if her own brother died, so long as she got what she wanted.

Somewhere out of view a shot rang out. The crowd which had been too stunned to move up until this point now erupted in a frenzy. Dorian’s cam bounced around so much that I couldn’t discern any of what I was seeing. I heard him call out for Dawn, then watched her dress sweep by and out of view. He must have shoved her behind him. The next event consisted of Dorian grunting as he engaged in combat. I assumed it was one of the brothers, but it was impossible to tell from the bad rendering and ensuing chaos.

The feed finally leveled out and I saw that Evelyn’s man Olip lay unmoving on the ground ahead of Dorian’s position.

He surged forward and knelt next to the fallen host. After a few seconds, the Constable let out a watery laugh. “He’s fine. Poor guy just fainted.” Dorian slapped the host a couple of times until the intermediary finally came to, then helped him to his feet. The room hadn’t calmed down yet, even though the threat had been neutralized, and I wondered if something more was going on.

Before I could say anything a series of flash bangs went off inside the building.

“What the hell—”

A sudden knocking on the outside of the transport interrupted me and I glanced at the monitor in time to see a blinding flash. Instinctively, I sent out an SOS to Dorian and put my pad in lockdown mode, then whispered in my comm, “Tribal, I’ve got company.”

No response. My comms were dead.

A groan sounded as the door to the transport was forced open. A set of incredibly strong hands grabbed me and pulled me from the driver’s seat. I started to kick out and flail wildly in an attempt to make the unknown assailant let go, but it was of no use. Everything went dark as a hood of some sort was pulled over my head, then I felt a sting in my arm and the world twisted away into darkness.

11

I awoke disoriented and with a mouthful of what I thought was sand. A self-check told me I had not broken any bones, though the back of my head throbbed as if it had been knocked against something. It hurt to open my eyes because someone was shining a bright light into them. No, wait. That was the sun. A strong wind whipped past my face and I chanced a peek through half closed lids before snapping them shut again.

My stolen glance had shown a desert landscape, four heavily armed men, and most surprising of all, a woman in restraints. Not just any woman. The woman from the hotel lobby. Nobody had appeared to notice that I had come to, so I kept my eyes closed, doing my best to retain my breathing and posture from before. It was a tough trick, to not give away consciousness. Breathing was difficult, a trick of the mind in which the very act of thinking about it caused stutters and gaps. But this could be overcome through diligence, mostly by focusing thoughts elsewhere. The big trick was not jerking as the body reconnected the motor functions.

Paradoxically, the best way to prevent this was to focus, at the time of losing consciousness, on not moving. Passing out from asphyxiation, gas, strangulation, and the like were not too difficult. Being jumped and drugged, that tended to leave a knee-jerk fight/flight reaction. So I may have been noticed moving around before I gained my bearings. Still, I left my eyes closed. Might as well not add a photosensitive headache to the mix until I had other bearings.

Luck, such as it was, was on my side as the four men argued among themselves. Until I quickly realized their subject matter.

Me.

“This one’s waking up,” I heard someone say somewhat to my left and above.

Sensible. I was lying down on my right side, arms trussed behind me. I pulled a little on the restraints. Improvised. A zip-tie or rope. Not a full security shackle. The voice brought other clues. It was husky, coming from lungs that had been exposed to heavy particulates over a long period. Miner or refinery worker. There was the outside possibility it was a spacer that had suffered a decompression burn.

“You’re full of it, Logan. Just stand watch and shut up.” This voice came from the right and forward. It had an air of authority but lacked articulation. Someone used to being obeyed by force and action, not protocol.

Again, from the left I heard, “I saw him move. Just give him another shot already.”

A new voice from the right, parallel with the left, said, “And if he’s still under, we put him into ataxia, and he dies, or I have to revive him. Do you want to explain why a hostage died on our watch, Logan?”

Logan, annoyed, said, “Don’t be stupid, Baxter. I’m well aware that killing key hostages negates any deal the boss wants to make with the buyers.”

The voice from in front told them, “Both of you shut up. Yeah, he’s probably awake. I seen this one before.” The voice came closer. “Saw him up on Taurus Station. He’s better in a fight than he looks. He’s not just a hostage either, he’s a Renegade in training. Treat him like an opponent.”

“Can’t be all that good if he didn’t make you on Taurus,” sneered Baxter.

I braced myself as I heard the downward inflection on that final word. The voice had moved in close and the disdain smacked of a petty vengeance. The kick to the stomach hit hard but was manageable. I coughed and spat for effect, then let my voice drawl. “Gods, I’m awake. Hell.”

I kept my eyes closed and wiggled my legs and fingers. I was stiff but there were no pins and needles. If my suspicions were correct, I’d been moved several times and had been resting for less than an hour. From the verbal indications, I was one of several hostages, including the female from the Prime Lady. I took a breath and coughed again.

The voice, which I assumed belonged to the leader of the attackers on Taurus station, loomed over me. “Yeah, you’re awake. And you’re going to stay that way. You wanna be a merc for hire? Make your cash moving people, cargo, living beyond the law? Well, you’re going to need to be a lot tougher than this. You and you, grab an arm.”

There was a silence and then some shuffling.

“I said now, godsdammit!”

Logan signaled an affirmative. “Okay, I’m on it.”

Baxter was more defiant. “Cool it, Wes. We’re moving.”

I was hoisted up and dragged for a moment. The heat of the desert wind grew in intensity, stifling my breathing.

“Walk!” Baxter commanded.

I opened my eyes tentatively, wincing at the light, but I was forced to keep them open to navigate a set of boarding steps. They belonged to a hover transport designed for travel over sand or water.

I was pushed forward into the skiff and tossed on the floor. I winced, more from the pain in my eyes than the rough handling. The cabin was small. Barely half the size of a typical quarters. Besides Logan and Baxter, there was Wes and a pilot. To my right was another hostage. I couldn’t see her face, but it was unmistakably the woman I had seen in the lobby of The Prime Lady. They must have brought her in when I’d been pretending to be asleep.

The skiff took off, jostling everyone inside as it sped forward. Then the leader moved to a hatch in the floor and threw it open. The woman yelped and pushed herself back against the cabin wall as if she feared falling out the hole. She needn’t have worried.

Wes marched over to me and dragged me to the hole, then he pushed my head through it. Below me, the ground slipped by in a blur—a fluid streak of red, pink, white, and yellow terrain. My face came uncomfortably close to the craggy rocks below, but if they thought I would scream or beg, they were sorely mistaken.

The skiff was powerful and fast. Probably a cargo puller that dragged loads of materials from the outskirts to launching stations for export off-world.

I was pulled back inside and dumped unceremoniously onto the floor of the skiff. Apparently, Wes had decided I wasn’t worth the trouble he might get into with his boss. One of the men, who I surmised to be Logan, fixed me with a threatening look. He was a stout fellow with broad shoulders to match his square jaw and brow, clearly paid for his intimidating presence and not his ability to improvise on the spot. The other man, Baxter, was holding a bag and stood with a competent look next to a pile of emergency supplies. A doctor, or a medic that was working in a back-alley capacity. A spasm ran up the left side of his face and he shook his head violently to the right to relieve it. Side effect of whatever substance addiction had put him in this line of work.

Wes was scarred and ugly. Probably ugly before the scarring, which left his face an alternating pattern of discolored lines and too-tight skin. The way he postured, the string of yelling and cursing of underlings spoke of deep-set insecurities. I could use that to my advantage.

He loomed above me and tried to get a rise out of me with superficial taunts. “What is it going to be, kid? You got the gumption for this work? You think you can handle yourself when it gets tough?”

I studied his ruined face. All the scarring posed a problem because it masked some of the man’s physical responses. Still, the flint hard eyes and tight line of his mouth suggested he didn’t just want to mess with me. He needed to bait me. Like he had a score to settle. Another weakness I could exploit. Putting on a show that I was terrified, I scooted back against the cabin wall to hide my hands and worked to remove the bindings.

It was easy to inject a minute tremble into my voice and crane my neck up to him with widened eyes, then pretend to find my courage. “Upset I got away from you at Taurus? Did Velio give you a reaming for that? Don’t take it too poorly. Looks like you found some competent help this time since you couldn’t pull it off alone.”

He leaned down and glared, temper straining his words. “The Renegade got lucky on the station. Lucky for you, your mentor let you play coward. Don’t have the guts to get your hands dirty or don’t have the ability?”

I needed a distraction. Time to sow some dissent in the ranks. “You want to talk about ability? So far, all I’ve seen is a guy who surrounds himself with incompetent, ineffective goons so he can look like the smart one. But you picked wrong this time.”

His fist jerked out and caught me on the side of the head hard enough to leave my ears ringing.

The move had been useless. Without anything sharp I couldn’t break free from the restraints. That meant I needed to push him a bit further until he untied me himself.

I turned my head back up to him, feeling a trickle of blood from my lip. “See? If you let Logan hit me, I’d be back out. He’s obviously stronger than you.” I signaled to the right with a wave of my head. “And Baxter over there is smarter than you even when strung out. The pilot can at least maneuver the skiff. What does Velio even pay you for?”

He looked at his team and let out a scoff. “I’m twice the mercenary of any of these idiots. Velio trusts me to get the job done. He doesn’t trust Logan to lace his boots. And Baxter would be blitzed out of his mind in some hole if I didn’t regulate his stash.”

“I can see that. You really got the job done on Taurus. And you did such a good job telling your medic about me that he couldn’t give me a proper dose to keep me out. You’re a gem.”

Baxter snickered.

Wes shot him a look. He was puffing now, hyperventilating as he tried to control the rage.

I looked toward Logan. “And Logan can at least tell a conscious person from an unconscious one. Does it hurt knowing you’re less observant than your muscle?”

Logan snickered and that was the last straw. He pulled his gun and shoved it in my face. “This look like incompetence to you?”

I smirked. “You shoot all your hostages? You took me alive and I’m supposed to believe you’ll shoot me?” I kept my eyes on his, rather than the gun. “Wow. It’s pretty easy to shoot someone who can’t fight back. And you call me a coward?”

He pulled me to my feet, keeping the gun pressed against my cheek. “Maybe I don’t gotta keep everyone alive. Or maybe, smart guy, I just rough you up a bit? Give you a few broken bones. You won’t be dead, but you’ll sure as hell hurt.”

Wes reached down in a flash and hauled me up, then spun me around and cut me free. I hadn’t seen a blade, but it wasn’t surprising that he had one. My wrists and hands ached from being in the same position for so long and I flexed them to work out the stiffness.

The man holstered his gun, then cracked his knuckles like he was about to lay into me. “You’re gonna feel this beating,” he told me.

I leaped forward at him, trying to grab his wrist before he had a chance to follow through with the threat. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite move fast enough, and he was able to get a single hit in, slamming his fist into my side. I went for the man’s holstered weapon, trying to pull it free, but he fought me on it and managed to shove me away. He withdrew the gun and raised it to me, but I was back on him now, my hand around his wrist.

That was when the gun went off.

In my peripheral I saw Logan clutch his stomach before sinking to the floor.

Ignoring him, I pulled the gun free and staggered back, then leveled the weapon at Wes. “Turn this craft around and take us back to the city.”

Logan sucked in air and cursed. From the position of his hands, the damage looked pretty bad, and blood seeped out of the wound, staining his shirt with red.

“Baxter,” I said calmly, not taking my eyes off Wes. “See to your man.”

The medic moved to cross behind his lead, but Wes had other plans. He grabbed Baxter with his left hand and shoved the twitchy addict at me as a distraction. I estimated his trajectory and easily stepped around the falling body. As I’d expected, that brief second was all that Wes needed to make an attempt at stealing the gun.

I dropped it, freeing my hand up to secure his wrist. I twisted him and back, applying pressure at the elbow and shoulder as I pushed my fingers into a point on his wrist. I was hoping to cause enough pain to drop him.

He bellowed and swore, then pretended to go limp. I saw through the ploy and increased the pressure until he tensed, before slumping. I dropped his arm and stepped over the fallen but uninjured Baxter. “Tend to Logan,” I insisted.

The man had other plans. I’d only anticipated Wes’s moves but Baxter had picked up the gun and was pointing it in my direction. Well, near my direction. His addiction caused his hand to shake terribly, but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

“Baxter? Wes is down,” I said in a soothing tone. “But Logan needs help. Just stay calm.”

What happened next occurred over a matter of seconds, but it felt longer.

The medic’s eyes went wide and wild and I knew my words hadn’t gotten through. He pulled the trigger, and just as I’d feared, the shot was wide. I lunged forward, wrested the pistol away, and tossed it close by the woman with dark hair.

The skiff lurched then, throwing everyone in the vessel sideways. An earsplitting scraping sound erupted from the starboard side of the little ship. I turned around to see that Baxter’s shot had hit the pilot, who was now slumped over the controls.

“Hold onto something!” I yelled out to no one in particular as the skiff rammed into something hard and completely unyielding. The impact tossed me forward. Logan yelled from somewhere in the wreckage and Baxter screamed, but I didn’t hear the woman. A loud pop sounded in the cabin, then flames and smoke erupted from the controls.

The way was clear out of the hazy lower deck and I spotted the woman not far away, slumped over on the floor. I grabbed the emergency supply box and made my way over to her unconscious form then tossed her over one shoulder. The movement shifted the skiff and Baxter screamed again as we tipped hard to port. Logan stumbled up the stairs and I followed him out as the small craft teetered again. When we cleared the upper deck, I jumped down from the wreckage.

* * *

After setting the woman down I went back in to see if anyone else could be helped. By far, the worst off was the pilot. Miraculously, the round in his back hadn’t killed him, but he was in rough shape. I probably hurt him, but it was impossible to be gentle when I pulled him free.

Billowing smoke choked the air and flames licked up from the lower deck, barring me from going down. Baxter cried out from below, a high pitched, dying sound, and then he went quiet. Knowing he would be far beyond my help, I returned to the pilot.

The man’s eyes fluttered open and he groaned. A large gash cut across his forehead and one of his legs was broken. Clean, white bone poked out from a hole in his pants and blood had soaked most of his shirt where the bullet had entered. He might have lived except for a large shard of the windshield that had pierced his chest, and I could tell from his labored breath it had punctured something vital.

The emergency kit was still by the woman who was now struggling to sit up with her hands restrained behind her back. I rummaged through the bag and tossed her a laser knife so she could free herself, then continued to search for something to help the pilot.

“It’s no use,” he mumbled.

He wasn’t wrong. The kit would have helped to patch up the bullet wound, maybe even set the leg, but the glass had done too much damage. I did see a pain reducer and pocketed the injector. Instead of making promises I couldn’t keep, I set the bag aside and moved closer to him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Can you tell us where we are?”

The pilot coughed violently until blood dripped down his chin and his breath came in a rattle.

“An hour out. North. Northwest. Hostage camp. So sorry,” he gasped.

“I can give you a shot for the pain.” I pulled the injector out of my pocket and pressed it to the man’s arm.

His body relaxed when the dose hit his bloodstream. A few minutes later he took one last rattling breath and was gone. It would have been good to know if Velio was working with the Sarkonian and Evelyn or if this was unrelated, but he couldn’t have given me anything else in his condition.

A movement from my left side told me the woman had managed to free herself and was moving now.

“You were knocked unconscious,” I told her. “Take it easy as you get up.”

She raised a hand to the back of her head and grimaced. “I must have hit something when we crashed.”

I nodded. “I’m Alphonse Malloy. You can call me Al. What’s your name?” I decided it was probably best to play it close to the vest that I recognized her. She hadn’t been at the meet, so I had to wonder how she’d ended up as a hostage in the same transport as me. Then it occurred to me that I hadn’t been in the warehouse either. The most likely scenario was that Evelyn had put all the buyers under surveillance and taken those close to them.

“Marcella,” she said, hugging her bare arms and looking around. “Where are we?”

“I’m not exactly sure. It sounded like we were going to be hostages. Do you know why?” I wanted to gauge how much she knew, but Marcella simply shrugged and shielded her face against the bright sunlight.

She shook her head. “No idea. What do we do now?” With her face hidden, I couldn’t tell if she was being truthful or not, so I left it alone for the time being.

“I’m going to see what we have option-wise.” Unable to do anything more for the pilot, I left his body and walked to the remains of the skiff. There wasn’t much left. What controls hadn’t burned up were smashed and had no power. The cabin was still on fire, and when it burned out there would be nothing left. Resigning myself, I returned to the ground and walked a little way up a hill.

I went back to Marcella who was digging through pieces of the wreckage.

When she saw me coming, she stopped and waited for me to come to her side. “What are we looking at?” she asked.

“A long walk.”

12

She looked less concerned than I’d expected, though I assumed that to be from the shock. “What should we do, Al?”

I regarded the question carefully. She was still a mystery and I needed to figure out how much she knew. Deciding to stick with the most obvious story until I could work out additional information, I came up with a statement that might evoke more of a response. “I’m fairly certain that those men who took us hostage worked for Ferris Velio.”

She didn’t react to the name, nor did she respond.

“I’ll break it down for you,” I continued. We’re stranded at the bottom of a ravine, probably miles from the nearest town. The smoke is going to make for a fairly good beacon to anyone nearby that cares to come looking. The bad news is that anyone likely to come looking will not be friendly.”

Marcella moved briskly to pick up the emergency kit then came back. “I guess we’d better get going then,” she said.

I held up a hand. “Let’s work out a plan first. Taking off into the desert half-cocked is liable to get us killed. We were close to wherever the kidnappers wanted to take us. If their allies show up, we will be grabbed again. Do you want to hunt for anything we can salvage or inventory the emergency supplies?”

She shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t matter. I’ll see what’s lying around.”

“Okay. If I can get a beacon or a radio to work, I can signal for some help.”

She brightened at that and came out of the corner a bit. “You got a tracker past them?”

I nodded evasively. “My Uncle Dorian will be able to activate it once he realizes I’m missing. He has a ship. He might even spot the smoke here. Still, we need to find some cover so we can pick who to interact with.”

What I didn’t tell her was that all Constables were outfitted with subdermal trackers that could be activated from just about anywhere remotely. Dorian had probably already activated it and was headed my way.

“Sounds good. Be back in a few,” said Marcella, then she marched off in search of more supplies.

I watched her walk away for a few seconds and took stock of her clothing. Thankfully she wasn’t in the sort of fancy getup I’d last seen her in. Now she wore black pants, stylish but sturdy boots, and a white shirt. Satisfied, I turned my attention to the kit.

It contained basic medical supplies, but they were mostly cheap, and I had a feeling that Baxter had packed it. There was no organization and the pain injection I’d given the pilot was the only medicine besides some analgesic. I also came up with the standard bandages, disinfecting spray, clotting powder, and a few solar blankets, though I doubted they’d be necessary.

I pulled a few more things out and was pleased to find a light source, but the real treasure came in the form of water, which we were going to need in this heat, along with a holo compass. A few fuel bars, a short length of paracord, and MREs rounded out the cache.

Marcella returned a few minutes later looking disappointed.

“Didn’t find anything?”

She shook her head. “Everything is burned to a crisp. How’d you make out?”

“A little better.” I told her about everything inside the bag and handed her the light source. “The pilot said we were on a Northern heading, so I guess we should start walking.”

She walked past me without looking at the compass and I grew immediately suspicious.

“How do you know which way North is?”

Marcella stopped in her tracks and spun slowly back to me, then fixed a glacial stare on me. “What, because I’m a woman I can’t tell direction?” she asked angrily.

“No, ma’am. That’s not what—”

“Celtan is my home, Mr. Malloy. And I’ll have you know that my father taught me a great deal before—” She stopped abruptly before throwing her hands up and resumed stalking away.

I jogged to catch up with her, annoyed with myself for putting my foot in my mouth. Her mouth had tightened at the mention of her father and the crease between her brows spoke of worry.

“I’m sorry, Marcella. Being kidnapped has me on edge. I meant no offense, truly.”

The woman’s shoulders relaxed, and her tone was softer when she responded. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Of course, you’re suspicious. I was too, at first.”

Something about the way she said it made me think she hadn’t said everything.

“At first?” I prompted.

“Yes. I recognized you from the Prime Lady Hotel,” she admitted. “I’d gone to meet a client and you were in the lobby, scoping it out from the looks of things.”

“Ah, yes. I saw you too, although you looked a little different then.”

It looked like she blushed, but I thought that could have been from the heat and wind.

“Not that kind of client. I’m a guide of sorts, but I also provide information and advice.”

I wondered if that had been part of the reason for her abduction but kept it to myself.

The canyon wall to the left was sheer and rose hundreds of meters into the air. Further back along the cliff face, I could see gouges and fractures, testaments to the speed and force of the skiff as it shot forward from the rest of the wreckage.

The river was calm here, offering a passage to the other side. The river banks were thin, evidence that the waters were nearly as wide now as they had been when they cut down the canyon. If we waded through, the path looked passable on the right side of the ravine. It was broken into a few cracks and a slope that looked to lead all the way up.

I pointed to it. “This looks a little more navigable, so long as you don’t mind getting wet. I don’t think we can get up on this side anyway.”

Marcella eyed the river with some trepidation then looked at the sheer canyon wall on our current side. I saw the moment resignation set in and she squared her shoulders before moving to the river bank. She then sat down and began untying her boots.

“Good idea,” I said, joining her. “Don’t want them getting stuck in that sludge.”

“Exactly,” she replied. Then she took me by surprise by standing and stripping off her black pants.

My mouth didn’t quite drop open, but it was close. I quickly averted my eyes and stood, turning away awkwardly.

“There’s no call to be prudish,” she chided me. “You’re welcome to go in fully clothed, but don’t be surprised if you come out naked anyway. Even if you don’t, your clothes will be soaked.”

I couldn’t deny that she had a logical point. Still keeping my back to her, I stripped.

A few minutes later we waded into the water. As the taller of us, I carried the bag. It might have been waterproof, but I doubted it, and our clothes were inside. Baxter looked like a cheap individual and the material appeared to be a basic synthetic fabric.

We were nearly to the other side, Marcella some distance ahead of me, when trouble hit. She slowed her pace, then wobbled.

“Careful, there’s muck here. Don’t stop. The quicker we move, the better.” She stumbled forward another step and struggled in place, seemingly unable to move on, then cursed. “I’m stuck.”

“Hold on,” I told her. My feet were still touching the sandy bottom of the river, so I stopped and opened the bag to dig for the paracord. I made a loop on one end first, then the other. It wasn’t as long as I’d hoped, maybe eight meters, if that. We weren’t far from solid ground so I hoped my plan would work.

“What are you doing?” she called out over her shoulder. Her voice trembled slightly but she was trying to hide it.

“I have some rope. Not much, but put your arm through it, then tighten it so you don’t lose it. I’m going to try and go ahead then pull you out.”

“Okay,” she said, sounding relieved.

“Get ready,” I warned. “I’m going to throw it to you as I pass.”

She caught it on the first try and pushed her arm through the loop, then tightened it as I’d instructed. I went wide, hoping to avoid her predicament and was rewarded with sharp river rocks poking the soles of my feet. I didn’t quite make it to the bank, but I was close enough to toss the bag to it.

“I’m going to start pulling!” I shouted to be heard above the river since we were now farther apart, and she nodded to indicate she got the message.

The stones dug painfully into my feet, but I ignored it and started reeling her in. At first, she didn’t budge, and I grew concerned when Marcella waved her hands erratically.

“Wait! I’m going to try and wriggle one foot free. Then when you pull, I can twist the other one out.”

I gave her some slack and a minute later she gave me the thumbs up. I leaned back and tried again. The line went taut and I could feel Marcella thrashing on the other end as she fought to get free.

Again, she waved for me to stop. “With all my weight on one leg I sank even farther. Almost to my knee.”

Even from this distance, I could see the growing fear in her expression.

“Stay calm. Let’s try again. This time when you start kicking out, I’ll yank as hard as I can.”

“You mean you weren’t doing that already?” she called out dryly.

I pulled the rope tight once more and waited until I felt her moving on the other end again. This time I leaned back and put as much weight and force as the water would allow into it. My feet were on fire, but I focused on getting Marcella out.

“Almost!” she yelled.

I took an agonizing step back and felt the loose rock give under me, cutting my feet even more. Ignoring the stabs of pain, I took another. And another.

“I’m out! Keep pulling!”

With a sigh of relief, I stopped backing up and used my upper body to bring Marcella to me. “Be careful here and watch your step,” I advised. “The bottom is sharp.”

Since we were both out of breath, she just nodded and moved cautiously to my side. “Wow, you’re right. How are your feet not torn up?” she asked.

I just grimaced.

“Oh. Let’s get out of here so we can take a look at them.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Please don’t get stuck again.”

She laughed. “I’ll do my best, Alphonse.”

On the other side, we donned our dry clothes. I was glad she’d convinced me because even though the weather had been warm so far, but it was still midday. By the time night fell, so would the temperature.

Marcella sat on the ground and began to inspect my feet. I didn’t have to read micro expressions to tell that it was bad.

“We need to get all this dirt out of the cuts,” she said. “The water from the river is too silty, but we have the water bottles.”

“No, we need that to drink in case we get stuck out here,” I said, shaking my head. “I think I saw some disinfectant in the bag. If we use that it might work.”

“It should,” she agreed. “But it’s gonna sting.”

“I’ve had worse,” I lied.

While Marcella gathered what she needed I took stock of my feet. I hadn’t been wrong. The rocks had slashed several places on the soft skin. Some of the cuts were shallow, but a few were deep enough to worry me.

“So, tell me, Alphonse. What’s your story?”

“You’re trying to distract me,” I said.

“Yes. But I am curious. What made you want to be a Renegade?”

“I got into some trouble at school. My parents were tired of dealing with it, so they gave me a choice. Train with him or—” I yelped when the disinfectant hit my injured feet.

“Sorry! That was the worst of it, I promise. This numbing gel will take some of the sting away.”

She was right, and after a few seconds the pain subsided enough that I relaxed a little.

“A little clotting powder, then the bandages. Hopefully you can walk,” she commented.

Less than ten minutes later Marcella was helping me with my boots. I took a few experimental steps and was relieved to only feel a little soreness.

“Thanks, that’s much better,” I said.

She shook her head. “I should be thanking you, not the other way around. If you hadn’t been there…”

“It was the right thing to do. Besides, we’re in this together now.”

“Right. Hostage bonding time,” she joked. “Still, thanks. I owe you one.”

She tipped her head back then and studied the horizon.

I followed her gaze up to the dusky sky.

“We better find shelter or rescue soon or we won’t make it,” she said, serious again. “There are only six or so hours before nightfall. The atmosphere here doesn’t exactly retain heat at night.”

She gave me a weak smile. “Exoplanet captures are the worst. Why put anything that isn’t a dome on a planet that is going to destabilize in orbit or freeze over time?”

I shouldered the bag and checked the compass. “You would have to ask whoever put the planet here.”

“Do you have their frequency? I have some complaints.” She laughed, a light tinkling sound that I found pleasant.

“I’ll see if I can get them a message,” I replied, unsure if that counted as a humorous response. She chuckled so it must have been. Max would have been proud, and I cracked a smile at the thought of my one-time friend.  “Let’s try to climb up and around this slope. With some luck, we’ll find our way to the top and have a view of the land.”

We made our way across the shelf and inched up bit by bit as the terrain allowed. It took a few hours, but we finally found a crack in the side wall. It was narrow enough to climb but tight enough we could leverage our legs and backs and walk up the surface. We made it to the top and stopped to catch our breath, exhausted but elated by the progress.

“I’m glad we found something that didn’t require free climbing. I don’t think we’re in any shape to pull that off.”

“I believe you are correct, Marcella.”

She slapped at me lazily. “I don’t get you. Sometimes you sound so proper, then it’s like you walked off a kessil farm.”

The sky was darkening at the horizon. We had used up about half of our daylight since leaving the cabin.

“We’ve got four hours at the most to find shelter. We should rest a few more minutes and move on.” I got to my feet and offered Marcella a hand. She took it and I pulled her up.

“North should take us that way,” she said, gesturing off in the distance, then swiping dirt from her pants. “Once it gets dark, we’ll be able to see the lights.”

I looked down toward the river and the scrapes across the canyon wall to orient myself, then verified with the compass. Not surprisingly, she’d been right.

Now Marcella leaned down, stretching her legs and lower back. She stood back up. “Are your feet okay?”

“Yes, at least for now.” In truth they throbbed, but I didn’t want to stop. The cliff’s edge was too exposed, and I wanted to find somewhere to protect us from the elements if we couldn’t find a town or homestead.

We walked in silence for a while. The terrain was easy enough to traverse. Rocks and bits of brush, mostly flat or with slow and easy rises and slopes. I could just make out Celtan in the far distance, but it was just a speck. On foot it would take days to reach.

Still, I was hoping to see a few ships taking off from distant points or something in orbit that could be used to orient against. The camp that Wes and his men spoke of had to be remote. I had expected Dorian to be here already and my mind worked through all the possibilities as to why he wasn’t.

None of the options I came up with were ideal. The Constable was either dead or captured, or my tracker had failed. Of the three, I was hoping for the last one. I felt like I was being watched and turned to see Marcella staring at me.

“You spend a lot of time in there.” She pointed between my eyes and thumped me in the forehead. “Anything that could help us out?”

I shook my head. “Nothing right now. I keep hoping for some kind of cave or natural shelter.”

She gestured at the expansive desert surrounding us. Bare mountains dotted the landscape, but not much else. “It all looks the same to me. Maybe we should stop here. It’s possible a low flying shuttle could spot us.”

“I don’t think we are going to see a ship at this point. Any signals the wreck might broadcast have been washed downriver.”

We walked in silence for another half hour before she stopped. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but we should make a signal ourselves. A fire or something. We need to be seen. We could be walking for days before we see anything. I’d rather be picked up by slavers than just die of exposure.” She gestured to the sky. “We have, at most, an hour before that becomes a problem.”

I nodded. “Less than.” I had chosen a direct line back toward Celtan, rather than following the canyon, but now thought better of it. “We can head back toward the canyon. There might be caves to shelter us until morning.”

She considered that for a few moments before shaking her head. “Going back would be a waste and we’ve come too far. It’ll be dark before we get back. Let’s keep going and see if we can make it to the closest mountain. It’s a little off course but we might find something at the base. Worst case, we have the blankets.”

I nodded. We’d fixed them to the outside of the pack to charge in the sunlight, so that might work to get us through the night. “Sounds like that’s our only option.”

We set off again, this time making a line for the mesa she indicated.

As she’d predicted, dusk turned to night within the hour. The temperature dropped significantly, but thanks to the blankets we were able to stave off most of the cold.

“Look!” Marcella shouted suddenly.

I jerked into a fighting stance, startled by her outburst, then relaxed when I saw her grin. It only took a second to see what had her so excited.

At the base of the mountain a light shone like a beacon. We’d been too far out to see it before, and I noticed that there were small, natural formations partially blocking the view.

“Al, we made it!” Marcella hugged me tightly.

“So we did,” I agreed. “Hopefully they’ll take us in.”

We started moving again and she almost bounced at my side. Not wanting to deflate her, I stayed quiet and tried to ignore the bad feeling in my gut.

13

The lights belonged to a mining operation. An illicit one. Which is a hard thing to have on a planet with no formal governing structure, but the captive labor used in the mines made it a universally applicable label.

I counted five buildings. The leftmost looked like an upgraded portable survival/housing module. There was a small pit in the center of the camp, but I couldn’t determine its use. To the north was a barracks complete with two guard towers, one on each side. The rightmost building was the source of the steam, some kind of power plant inside.

The mine entrance was open but had a large shutter affixed to it. To the south of the pit was a tented series of tables and stalls. Workers sorted through chunks of earth separating viable ores from the dross. All around the operation, makeshift towers housed men with rough attitudes and guns. The workers appeared malnourished and many had poorly dressed wounds and bruises.

The moment we came over the ridge, close enough to see what lay in the cutdown valley below, lookouts had sounded alarms. I looked to Marcella and shrugged. “At least we’ll survive the night. Maybe.”

She gave me a wry grin. “You can know your terrain and be handy in a mud pit, but I know people. This will be fine.”

It was an interesting moment, seeing her smile and exude a form of charm. It was also comical, as she was covered in a fine layer of red and gray mud and had no idea. Her hair was dusty, and she was a far cry from the sophisticated woman I’d first seen at the Prime Lady. There was an endearing quality, but I suspected only to me.

The guards pounded toward us, rifles in hand, and started shouting orders. Three guards formed a loose semicircle around us.

“Get on the ground, hands behind your heads!”

We kneeled, relieved to be off our feet after hours of walking, but I couldn’t conceal a wince from the pain that came with the motion.

Satisfied that we were passive, the men stood ready but silent until their superior arrived. He sauntered up and regarded us with a mocking sneer. Long dark hair hung down his back. He was wearing an open shirt with a long blue coat and sported two pistols on his right hip. “What do have we here? Some escapees? No. Don’t recognize them. I would certainly remember seeing this one before, even with the grime.”

He approached Marcella and caressed the side of her face with his fingertips. “Sweetheart, you are just a mess, but I’ll be cleaning you up, don’t you worry. You can call me Pyke. I’m the foreman around this operation.”

She remained motionless as he walked around her. When he had finished his survey, she spoke. “We were in a crash. My pilot made an error and smashed into the side of a canyon. It was terrible. I would have died if it weren’t for this young man, the mechanic’s nephew. He pulled me from the wreckage.”

Pyke looked at me. “A commendable effort, lad. You’ve done well to keep your lady alive and to find us. We’ll be certain to see you are both well treated.” He laughed after that. It was a low, cruel sound, the kind that was used to being echoed by those without the dignity and spine to stand up to him.

The guards joined in on the laughter until he cut them off with a gesture. “It’s late. If you’ll follow me down into the camp, I’ll see that you both have a bed for the night. We’ll talk options come morning.”

It was obvious what his intentions for us were, but I gave my best respectful smile anyway and turned toward Marcella. “Your father is going to be so pleased you survived. We should call him immediately.”

Marcella nodded. “Yes. My father will certainly reward you for finding us. He’s a trader and diplomat.”

“Trader and a diplomat, you say? I’m certain we will come to an arrangement. Unfortunately, it will have to wait until tomorrow, after I’ve rested.”

Marcella looked panicked. “We’ve already been missing for several hours. He’s certain to send out ships to look for us. He’s probably already called in the orbital fleet to help.”

Pyke shook his head and then gave a signal to the guards. Two of them put their weapons away and grabbed me and Marcella.

Marcella winced at the guard’s rough touch.

Pyke slapped him across the face. “Be careful. She’s our guest.” He hooked an arm around her shoulder and led her down a flight of stairs into the camp below. “I’ll see that a room is prepared for you.”

Marcella looked to me. “What about my friend?”

Pyke smirked. “Oh, we have quarters for him. Don’t worry, you’ll see him in the morning.” He gave me a wicked grin. I understood that my night was going to be anything but restful. The guard behind me took my bag and grabbed my arm in a vice-like grip. Whatever plan Marcella had, she was going to be on her own for the time being.

I watched Pyke and the other guard enter the leftmost structure. The two guards with me gestured toward the right as we came down the stairs from the upper ridge. I followed their lead, crossing through the rows of tables and stalls to an empty position.

The guard with the gun returned to his tower. The other one stayed behind to instruct me. “A miner will come by and dump out a bucket. You use this and this”—he pointed to the two sifter scoops on either side of the station—“to pull out the materials. Yellow goes here and white goes there. The dirt goes into the box underneath.”

He provided no further explanation and I didn’t ask any questions, then he walked off. After a moment, a miner with a bucket showed up and poured out a load in front of me. I took up the first scoop and began sifting through the dirt. The scoop on the left had a larger mesh than the one on the right. After a few scoops through, I started pulling yellow material out of the dirt. I dropped it in the indicated bin. I repeated the process with the right scoop and pulled out a white material, which I dropped in the other bin.

It was difficult work and I was already sore and tired from the hours of walking across the desert without supplies. It took me longer than it should have to understand what I was separating. The white material was a uraninite. The yellow was larger crystal autunite. This was a uranium mine. It would take days of exposure before treatment was needed and months before resulting illness was untreatable. Still, I didn’t like being near the radioactive material.

I sifted and dumped a dozen loads before the guard returned. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the stall. I did my best to follow him, but he was walking quickly and yanking me with undue force. I stumbled and he pulled me back to my feet, practically dragging me as I tried to get my legs underneath me.

We passed by other workers as we crossed the camp. A few gave me quick, sideways glances but most kept their eyes down and went about their tasks. The guard pulled me up to the side of the leftmost structure. He grabbed me by the back of the neck and guided me up a flight of stairs to the upper level and into a dark room.

“There’s a cot to the left and a bucket in the corner,” sneered the guard. “I suggest you rest up for tomorrow. You’re gonna need it.”

The door slammed shut and locked behind him, leaving me alone in the dark.

Too weary to attempt an escape, I felt around until I found the cot and collapsed into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

The next morning, I opened my eyes to see Marcella inspecting my feet again and jerked into a sitting position.

“Whoa, big guy. It’s just me.” She held up a bowl filled with a strange brown mixture. “I told Pyke about your feet and he said the people here swear by this.”

“Why did you tell him about my feet?” I asked, because there had been a glimmer of guilt in the way she’d looked away.

“I’m sorry, Al. I tried. I really did.” Her blue eyes were filled with tears now and she moved up to hug me.

I patted her awkwardly on the back, not knowing what else to do. “It’s okay, just tell me what happened.”

Sniffling, Marcella sat up. “He agreed to let me go…” she trailed off, but I knew what she meant to say next.

“But not me,” I finished for her.

“Not you,” she agreed. “He said you were no one important and they were going to put you to work to pay for his hospitality.”

I snorted and gestured at the room. It had looked better in the dark. “This? Hardly. It’s fine though, I can probably escape from the mine.”

Another guilty expression crossed her face and I paused. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

She nodded. “I heard the guards talking about a fight. That it was too bad you were so skinny because it would have been funny to watch you fight for your life. I got mad and told them how you fought the criminals on the skiff.”

“I don’t understand, what does fighting have to do with anything?” I asked, confused.

“Pyke enjoys fights to the death. If a slave wins, he grants them freedom. I guess it’s no easy feat though. He has a champion. Someone who hasn’t lost a fight in a long time. After I bragged about your skill, he decided to put you in a fight tonight.”

I just stared at her, thinking she might be joking, but she didn’t laugh. “You can’t be serious. That is barbaric.”

“I know,” she sobbed, putting her head in her hands. “I’m sorry, I should have listened to you last night and went back to the canyon.”

“No, we’d likely be dead had we gone back. But this doesn’t explain why he let you help me.”

She sniffled and wiped at her tears. “Oh, Pyke said he wants you to be at full capacity. Something about honor, as if that bastard has any.”

“Darlin’, you wound me,” came a voice from the door.

It was Pyke.

“And here I was, bringing the young man some breakfast. He stepped into the room and a skinny woman rushed in with a tray that she set in my lap before rushing out again. A slice of bread, water, and a healthy portion of … something sat on the tray.

“I know it doesn’t look like much,” Pyke laughed. “I promise you though, lots of protein and nutrients to get you back on your feet.”

I didn’t say anything or move to touch the food.

“Eat it, or my guards will come in here and force feed it to you,” he growled.

Deciding not to press my luck, I took a tentative bite of the bread, then the soupy mixture.

Pyke clapped his hands and grinned. “You’ve got five minutes. After that, you’ll go to get cleaned up. That should give the salve time to do its job.”

I looked at him suspiciously until he barked out a laugh again.

“The young lady is correct. I enjoy watching a good fight and reward the winners. My current champion, Leon, is on his eleventh fight. Once he hits twelve, he’ll have earned his freedom.” Pyke laughed harshly. “Or he’ll be dead and a new champion will take his prize, then we’ll start fresh with two new fighters.”

With that, the foreman turned and left the room.

* * *

A little while later I was in a cell, which offered an amount of shade, but the heat of the day was already pressing in. Like my room from the night before, it boasted only a cot and bucket. Pyke had ordered me cleaned up and for another application of the salve. Marcella hadn’t been exaggerating. My feet had almost completely healed within the few hours that had since passed.

“Hey there, you all right?”

I sat up to see Marcella at the door. She was all smiles with that strange charm, but I could see that it was a façade and an attempt to comfort me.

She frowned and leaned her face into the bars to whisper, “We’re good. They won’t bother listening. Just talk fast.”

I nodded. It was difficult to think through the pain and fatigue. It seemed like she had a plan, though. “What’s going on?”

She smiled again. “You were perfect! I was having trouble selling Pyke on my wealthy ingénue act. He bought that we had been in an accident because they saw the smoke briefly. He wanted to think that I was lying to keep myself away from the kind of things that people like him do to young women in places like this.”

“So how did you convince him?”

“I told him that you weren’t any normal mechanic apprentice. That you were actually a secret bodyguard, highly trained and highly paid by my wealthy father. I told him that the moment you had an opening, you would spring into action and try to rescue me from his clutches, which explained why you’re so good at fighting.”

“I’m a decent fighter, Marcella, but I’m in no condition to brawl right now.”

Marcella pressed herself close against the bars and looked pleased with herself. “I think I can help you with that. I swiped this from that junkie doctor’s bag.” She showed me three single-use hypo injectors about the size of a large button. “You’ll understand, I didn’t exactly trust you after the crash and a girl has to be able to defend herself.”

I smiled despite the circumstances. “Two sedatives and a reversal agent. I had no plans to hurt you, but it was a smart move anyway.”

She smiled back at me. “I thought so. If you can gain access to the other fighter and hit him with this shortly before the fight, it will slow him down. I heard you’ll have to do some kind of handshake. Pyke’s supposed honor, I guess.”

The mini injectors went into my pocket. “Thanks. I might have a chance with this.”

Marcella nodded. “They’ll arrange the fight for a little later when it starts to cool down, so you have a few hours.” She looked around as if she heard a noise, then pulled one of the bars from the emergency kit out and handed it to me.

Marcella reached into her other pocket and pulled out an emergency ration. “I also grabbed this. Eat up.”

She tossed me the bar, winked, then fixed a confident smile on her face and walked away. I found it impressive how quickly and easily she was able to shift her expression. It was nearly textbook of the physiological projection training I had received on Alara.

I sat back on the cot and opened the ration. It tasted only marginally better than the morning’s slop, but at least I knew it wasn’t going to kill me.

* * *

I was marched into a staging area on one side of the pit I’d spotted the night before, without any armor or weapons, save the syringes I’d palmed. It made sense that Pyke wouldn’t want to give his slaves access to those in fear of a possible uprising. I could see workers and guards standing side by side and cheering along the balcony above. A wire mesh covered the ceiling, but the gaps were wide enough that debris could be tossed in. I saw rocks in the hands of many workers. Fan participation, it seemed, was part of the experience.

Across the arena, I could see the other fighter in the opposing staging area. He was shorter and he’d opted to go shirtless, showing off his well-toned physique, and he looked to be in his late thirties. From the way he paced and shadowboxed, I could tell he knew what he was about in a fight. To my left, I could see a set of chairs vacant on a raised platform. This would be Pyke’s seat for the event.

For a moment, I wondered where the foreman was, then I saw he and Marcella greeting the other fighter. There was too much space and too many obstacles in the way to see what their exchange entailed, but after the fighter came running at the gate of his area, he jumped up on the fencing and shook it while letting out a yell. The workers and guards began chanting. Apparently, his name was Leon.

The chanting and the bright light of the overhead sun was a distraction, but I shut it out like I’d been taught. Dorian’s advice about warming up came to mind, so I stretched out my arms and legs and did my best to project weakness, pain, and a lack of coordination. I got some laughs from the crowd for my trouble.

The chanting grew in intensity until it fell silent. Pyke had moved to his private seating and Marcella sat beside him, not looking particularly happy about it. He held a mic and delivered a speech. “Workers! We are gathered here, in our precious time off, to see some entertainment!” He paused and let the roar of approval build for a few seconds.

“On the blue side, I give you the challenger. A bodyguard who failed in his duty. A boy pretending to do a man’s job. I give you Alphonse!” The crowd erupted in a series of boos, and a few rocks flew from the crowd, smashing into the ceiling and the gate. I stepped back into the recesses to avoid being sprayed by dirt.

“Look at him retreat! The fight hasn’t even started.” Laughter and more boos followed. Pyke called for silence and turned his attention to the other side. “And now, on the red side. Your current champion on the cusp of earning his freedom…”

The crowd erupted in cheers of “Leon! Leon! Leon!”

Pyke stood up to deliver his final remarks. “Your champion, the greatest of you. Leon the Blooddrinker! Will he gain his freedom this day or will we see a new champion steal it away?”

The gates opened and Leon came running forward to the center of the ring. He raised his arms and did a turn, letting the crowd have a good look at him. He turned back to me and pointed arrogantly, then smiled and pumped his other fist in the air.

I walked out into the arena cautiously. As soon as I crossed the shadow into the bright sun, a volley of small rocks rained down. I cowered, shielding my head from the pebbles, and tried to backpedal. The gate closed behind me.

Another series of laughter and boos.

“Opponents shake hands!” ordered Pyke.

It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. We met in the middle of the arena and I positioned the sedative so that it would prick him on contact. He jerked a little but didn’t appear to suspect I’d done anything, then backed away a few steps.

“Now fight!” bellowed Pyke.

Leon beat his fists to his chest and began to circle me. I noticed a slight shake of his head, as though he was trying to clear it, and realized the sedative had worked. Thankfully it didn’t knock him out completely as that would have alerted Pyke that something was off, I just hoped it was enough to give me the advantage.

I charged forward, hoping to capitalize on the confusion that the other man had to be feeling at the effects of the sedative. I felt a few rocks skim off me, courtesy of the crowd, but they didn’t draw blood.

My training flowed and I’d worked out the sequence that would occur. I kicked Leon in the torso, but he leaned into it instead of stumbling back. I’d allowed for this possibility and twisted away from his outstretched arms. I waited until his eyes unfocused, then charged again, this time aiming a strike to his kidney.

Like Dorian, the muscular man absorbed the punch, but unlike the Constable, he didn’t have a solid follow up. Instead, he swung wide and slow, allowing me to lean back and avoid the blow. Grunting, he danced back and began to circle again, much to the annoyance of the crowd, who booed and threw more rocks.

It was a good strategy. He’d bought time, trying to clear his head. He didn’t yet know that he was using up energy he needed. I felt bad rigging the fight, but for the big picture, it had to be done. I let him charge me this time and dropped my guard enough for him to land a punch. It couldn’t look too easy.

A rock caught me in the side of the face. I could feel it tear open my cheek. Fortunately, it missed my eye. I needed to get into proximity with Leon and convince the camp to stop launching stones at their hero. I watched him dance from foot to foot, but his motions had already started to slow. He kept his back leg squared with his shoulder—that was his pivot and I planned to exploit it next.

He lunged forward and took a swing with his left. I bobbed back and countered with a right of my own. It was a feint. I leaned back, absorbing what I could of the trailing uppercut, but fell onto my back. I rolled to the side to avoid the foot he tried to stomp on my face.

I came at him again, circling around his right side, watching for the moment when he would have to shift his pivot foot.

He turned, and as he shifted his weight to the other foot, I struck out with a left hook. With his shift in weight, he couldn’t get out of the way. He twisted away from the blow and caught himself after backpedaling. This invoked another series of boos from the crowd. I pressed my advantage and charged again.

My adversary wobbled unsteadily, and I decided to end it before he passed out on the arena floor. I let him catch me and slowed my moves to match his, so it looked like I barely avoided getting taken out. When he reached me, I shifted slightly, hooked my right arm around his midsection, and came around, using the force of his own push to provide the leverage I needed, then I dropped him into the sand.

As soon as he hit the ground, I was on him. I forced his arms underneath him and pounded a couple heavy shots into his torso, further draining his stamina.

The crowd erupted into an angry roar. I looked up to see Pyke flushed and angry. Marcella was doing everything she could to suppress a grin. Pyke grabbed the mic and started yelling, “Is this what we came here for? No! We didn’t come to watch some whelp get lucky. We came here for blood! Kill the loser!”

Now that Leon was unconscious, I stood up and shook my head. “No, I refuse.”

The crowd was mixed. Some booed, some cheered. Pyke caught this mixed reaction from the crowd and glared at me. “He’ll die either way. And so will you. Guards, lock them both up. I think we’re going to have an execution at sundown.” He was hyper focused on the scene before him and didn’t notice when Marcella took the opportunity to flee.

There was a unanimous outcry from the crowd at his announcement. At first I was confused at the anger I saw on the many faces, but understanding soon dawned. If Pyke had promised freedom to the winner of this fight, then he’d just broken his word and lost any trust he’d gained with these people.

The gates opened and a group of guards entered, rifles at the ready. Leon woke up at the sound of it all, and two of them forced us both out of the pit and into the room I’d occupied before the fight.

I could hear Pyke still speaking to the crowd and their indiscernible, screamed responses. “We have to get out of here,” I said to Leon. “Can you help me with the door?”

The effects of the sedative had finally begun to wear off, and he nodded.

Before either of us could move, I heard the lock click open. Leon locked eyes with me and nodded again. I hoped that meant we were in agreement on attacking whoever came through the door, but I had no time to explain.

The door swung open and I rushed forward, stopping just short of punching Marcella in the face. To her credit, only a squeak escaped. She held up the keys and jerked a thumb at the door.

All three of us left the room and ran through the areas beneath the camp. I had seen the route from my cell in the barracks down in the pit, so all I had to do was retrace those steps and emerge topside. Leon and Marcella followed behind me as I led them through the mine from memory.

By the time we emerged from the barracks, things had gone downhill for Pyke. He stood near the entrance, yelling at guards and workers, but no one listened. I caught his eyes and saw them go wide with shock, then hard with anger. He brought the microphone up. “Get… get…” The foreman puffed and dropped the mic, grabbing at his chest, then fell forward into the pit.

As soon as Pyke hit the ground, Mayhem ensued as the workers turned on the guards with an array of crude weapons. Someone managed to open the door and workers began to stream through it. I pointed at the opening and surged forward. Now that the crowd had thinned out, the guards noticed us. Shots rang out from behind us and more guards ran to cover the door.

“We’re not going to make it!” I yelled over my shoulder. “Go up to higher ground!” Peeling away from my previous route, we ran up the stairs leading to one of the towers. I had no idea what we were going to do when we got there, but for now it was our only choice.

The problem solved itself when a loud rush of air slammed into us from above. It was the MikroTrek. The ship came down like a stone, hurtling with enough speed to leave a contrail. It stopped short behind us, hovering only a few feet from the ground and cutting off the guards.

I grinned and yelled out over the rush of the engines. “Marcella, our ride’s here!”

The ship dropped the rear hatch and we charged at it. Leon stopped running and looked at me. He panted heavily and swayed on his feet. I ran past him. “C’mon, get in.”

He limped behind me and I helped heave him onto the ramp. I hit the call button inside the airlock. “We’re all in, Dorian. Get us out of here.”

14

I got out of the shower at The Prime Lady and dressed in one of my spare jumpsuits. Dorian had given me a fresh comms. The new device was stiff and felt awkward, but I ignored it. “Alright, Dorian. I’m good to go. Let’s debrief.”

“We’re over in Leon’s room, kid. Meet us here.”

I left the room and crossed the hall to where we had arranged for Leon to stay. Dorian opened the door and waved me inside. To my great relief, there were several room service trays already inside.

Dorian looked up from a sandwich and gave me a grin. “See, a little shower and a few days in the desert fades away.”

I sat down on a couch and opened one of the trays. It didn’t matter what was on it, I just wanted to eat something that wasn’t slop and drink water that wasn’t laced with uranium. “Painkillers helped too,” I said after swallowing my first large bite.

Dorian laughed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Where’s Marcella?”

“She’s in her room. As soon as we’re done here, I’ll go get her.”

“Done with what?” I asked.

Dorian looked at Leon, who was finishing a second plate of fried foods and a beer. “First we’re going to talk to our new friend here, then we’ll figure out what’s what with her.”

I nodded and looked at the other man. “What’s your story? I assume you started out a fighter at one of the casinos. Professional? What went wrong that got you caught up in a labor camp?”

Leon shook his head. “You Renegades got all the insider info, don’t you?”

I’d filled him in through our cover story on the way back to the hotel and he’d accepted the lie without suspicion. “Yeah. I was a prize fighter working in Celtan. I didn’t have a problem with booze or drugs, no gambling debts that went bad. I just had the bad luck of knowing someone else that did.”

Dorian patted Leon on the arm. “I think we’ve all been there. So, you stepped in to cover the debt of a friend and ended up paying off more than a few grand?”

Leon sighed. “It was more about not leaving witnesses. I met with Pyke to argue a payment schedule for my friend. He saw I was strong and could make him some cash, so he nabbed us both. Been two years now, or longer. Hard to keep track of time in a place like that.”

I finished off my food and drained the mug of tea. “What happened to your friend?”

Leon grimaced at the thought. Seeing the pain cross his face reminded me of my own experience with Remi and I immediately regretted my words. The exhaustion of the last couple of days had set in and I’d forgotten to filter my observations.

“He only made it a few weeks. He tried to run one night. Figured he was better off dying in the cold than slowly being poisoned by the mining.”

Dorian poured him another beer. “What’s your plan from here?”

“I owe Alphonse for saving my life. Besides, I need off this planet. I hate it here and I never meant to stay this long. If you need an extra pair of hands, I’m your man.”

The Constable nodded thoughtfully. “If you’re willing, we’d appreciate the help. I understand, of course, if you have family to attend to.”

A look of sadness and loneliness crossed Leon’s features and I understood his situation before he said it.

“I don’t have anybody. All I had was Jon, but now he’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” I said gently. And I meant it. I knew exactly what it felt like to have no family and lose a close friend.

“That’s a bad deal, Leon. Sorry to hear that,” said Dorian. Then he turned to focus on me. “So, Alphonse. What took you out into the desert?”

I briefly relayed what I had learned about Velio’s hostage camp. “Evelyn clearly wants to leverage higher prices out of the buyers or she intends to keep all the money in trade for hostages. She must know that continuing to sell off the product piece by piece is leaving a trail. I think she’s doing a final big deal and is putting a lot of effort into covering all the angles.”

Dorian drank his own tea and considered. “That makes sense. As soon as we dealt with Olip, me and the rest of the buyers were locked into the warehouse. My comms went dead, along with everyone else’s. They didn’t let us go until the next night and that was when I got a message saying you were ‘in good keeping’ and that you would be returned after the sale next week.”

I stood up and stretched, feeling the pain in my legs and arms. “Any idea which of the other buyers Marcella is linked with?”

Dorian frowned. “No. And you aren’t going to like what I found. Or what I didn’t find. She’s not linked to any of them. Nothing I could dig up pointed to her having any connections to the buyers. She could be part of a random kidnapping and ransom game that Velio plays, but my money is she’s a plant.”

I rejected the information. “I don’t know. She’s resourceful and seems adept at manipulating people, but she could have left me at any time, especially after I got locked up.”

Dorian nodded and looked to Leon. “What is your read on the girl?”

The fighter crossed his arms. “She fooled me. When she was with Pyke, she had him convinced her daddy would be coming to pick her up with a pile of money.”

I picked at a plate of food, distressed by dark thoughts. “We bring her in, we ask some questions. If she was out to get us, she had all the leverage after the crash. Not to mention she didn’t try to stop me from attacking the abductors. I admit she’s been holding back, but I don’t think it’s anything to do with Velio or Evie.”

Dorian didn’t look convinced but he stood up. “Alright. We’ll see where this goes.” He left the room and returned in under a minute with Marcella.

She lit up as she noticed me, and I read her as she crossed the room to sit next to me. Everything I saw looked and felt genuine. I didn’t detect any deception and almost told Dorian as much but decided against it.

“I’m glad to see you’re looking better,” she said with a grin.

I smiled back. “I’m a survivor. Nothing avoiding death can’t fix.”

She laughed. I chastised myself internally for the bad joke. What was that about?

“Marcella, we want to help you get back to your people. To do that, you have to level with us. Why were you kidnapped?”

She looked at me in confusion. “What are you talking about? It had to be the same reason as everyone else. For the money.”

I saw the lie instantly. Some people look away when they lie, but a more common response was for a deceiver to make more eye contact, which Marcella had just done.

“No, you’re not. I need the truth, Marcella. Now.”

“I’m on Din looking for my father. I don’t know why I was kidnapped by those men.”

The visible pulse at her carotid quickened and her eyes glimmered with unshed tears. She could be lying, or it could be associated with the intensity of her emotion.

“Do the men have something to do with your father?” questioned Dorian.

Leon stayed quiet for the time being.

Marcella wiped her eyes with her other hand. “Maybe. My father is an archeologist and relic hunter. At least, that’s what Mom said about him. He left us more than a decade ago. One day he was a professor studying artifacts and lecturing, and the next he had dropped out of our lives. She says he was obsessed with finding some vault somewhere. Something that tied his work together.

“We lost him when he left, but it would be truer to say we lost him before that, when his obsession pushed us away. I don’t really remember him as more than a distant figure.”

The tears spilled over and she started crying. I grabbed a napkin for her off the tray and offered it to her awkwardly. Emotions like this never ceased to make me uncomfortable.

“My mother died after a slaver group just like Pyke’s raided our town on the outskirts of the desert.”

“That’s how you knew so much about the muck in the ravine and surviving in the desert,” I said.

She bobbed her head up and down in agreement.

I needed to know more, but I also wanted her to know more about me. If I could empathize with her, then she would trust me. “I lost my own family. Not in the same way. They left me. Orphaned me years ago. I never knew why they left or what took them from me. I know that feeling, being alone.” It was a lie, at least in part, but it told enough truth to put me on her level.

She wiped another set of tears away. “So, you understand? I have to find my father. Maybe he’s working with someone dangerous. Someone that’s an enemy of Velio’s? Maybe they kidnapped me to use as leverage. To force him to tell them where the vault is?”

Her pulse, her body language, her tears, everything pointed to the same answer, that she was genuinely concerned about this distant father. I couldn’t help but hold a grudge against the man who had left her after seeing her pain. It did remind me of my own father, but I’d buried that hurt long ago.

Something about the description of her father was tugging at me, but I didn’t know what.  Dorian had showed a similar concentrated expression when Marcella had called him a relic hunter.

An archeologist, just like someone I’d heard about recently.

Could her father be the Missing Constable Lacroan?

“How were you planning to find your father?” I asked.

She pulled her hand back and dabbed at her eyes with both hands. “There are relic hunters that frequent Celtan. I know of a few places they hang out. I already told you that I’ve been acting as a guide and taking jobs all over the city and beyond. My hope was that they had contact with him and could help me.”

I looked to Dorian again. “Maybe we can help.”

My partner cocked an eyebrow. “We have important business to attend to, don’t we? Funds to secure for our seat at the table, as it were.”

“True, but relics and artifacts are worth looking into,” I argued. “Remember, you told me it would be in our best interest to hunt some down while we were on Din?”

He seemed to consider that, then nodded. “Alright, Alphonse, you and Marcella track down the leads for her father. I’ll work on the rest, at least until you’re done. Try to avoid getting grabbed, will ya? You both need to lie low and it’s probably best if you change your appearance.”

Leon stood up and punched a fist into his opposite hand. “Don’t worry, Mr. Dorian. I’ll watch out for them. Nobody is going to grab them while I still breathe.”

Dorian crossed to the door. “Well then, let’s all get some rest and start fresh tomorrow.”

15

Getting started the next morning proved to be a challenge. The physical exertion I had forced my body to endure had left me sore, but I was otherwise functional after a few stretches. I found myself lost in thought while I worked through the extension and struggled to focus.

Understanding that my mind needed to puzzle out all the information I’d put into it, I gave in. Sitting on the ground cross-legged, I let my hands rest gently on my knees.

I didn’t fully trust Marcella, but her story had a ring of truth and elements that needed exploring. The most important of which was that it sounded like her father, or the man she described as such, might be our missing Constable. If so, he could corroborate her story and her leads would help us find him. Ultimately, either way, it would bring me closer to Evelyn and the justice I sought.

Could she be a plant? I wanted to say no, but Dorian had asked questions that I couldn’t answer. Thinking back to her reactions, I realized she hadn’t really answered them all either. Leon had said that she’d been acting at the mine and I’d seen evidence of that myself. Just as I’d told half-truths in order to avoid an outright lie, she could have done the same.

Unsure if my ruminations had helped, I pushed up from the floor and geared up for the day. Dorian had been right. I needed a change of costume and persona and wanted to avoid feeling under-protected if it came to more physical confrontation. That gave me the perfect opportunity to pull out my Remi coat. It was the only possession I requested Shaw pick up from my former life. Not only was the long black coat different in aesthetic from the uninteresting brown jumpsuits of my smuggler-in-training persona, but it came with a history, one from the past, but also reminiscent of the bond I had formed with Remi.

Besides, I looked good in the coat. More mature and somewhat taller. That in itself was important when striking out into the field.

Now I just had to overcome the mental barrier before me. I wanted to believe Marcella and to have her story dovetail with my own. To find her father, to reveal that he was Lacroan, would give us a fine set of allies to back Evelyn into a corner.

I took a moment as I finished dressing and adjusted my collar in the mirror. Was I hoping her story was true because it would assist me with my mission or because I felt something for the mysterious, resourceful, talented girl? I shook that thought from my mind and refocused on the task at hand. The opposite sex had never distracted me before and I didn’t intend to let it start now.

A knock sounded at the door, startling me out of my reverie. I checked the door camera on my pad and saw the top of Leon’s head. I opened the door to admit him, and he closed it quickly behind him. He’d cleaned up well and wore dark pants with heavy work boots and a loose shirt concealing the weapon Dorian had given him.

I handed him an earpiece.

“I already got one of these from Dorian when he set me up with the gun and the clothes,” he told me. “But thanks.”

I put the earpiece in my right ear and pointed to my left. “We’re on a double comm today. Left is you, me, and Dorian. Right is you, me, and Marcella. Be careful which you use. If things go south out there, we need to have segregated communication.”

Leon nodded, swapped his current piece, and inserted the second. “You take this stuff pretty seriously, huh?”

He was expecting a lengthy answer.

“We have our reasons.” I left the statement to hang in the air with a sense of finality. For my sake. Explaining too much right now would compromise the mission and pull me off track. He didn’t push the issue.

I grabbed a third earpiece from my kit bag. “Alright, let’s meet Marcella and get on with the hunt. You have your plan?”

Leon nodded. “I’ll be tailing you from a distance and jump in if you give the signal. Otherwise, I’ll observe and report anyone I see more than once or that looks suspicious.”

I nodded as I opened the door. “Trust your gut. If someone gives you a bad feeling, let me know. Let’s hope today is nowhere near as difficult as the last few.”

Leon walked next to me as we headed down to the lobby of The Prime Lady to meet with Marcella. The bright white tiling of the lobby was even more striking, and less blinding, after a couple of days out in the desert. We stood near the columns in the middle of the room. I didn’t want to get into a chat with the reception workers.

After fifteen minutes, the other man started to get antsy. I’d occupied myself by watching the guests entering and leaving the lobby and I had recognized the engineering couple from the buyers’ meeting. They seemed mostly aloof. I wondered who Velio could be holding that would have any impact on them. It occurred to me that it didn’t necessarily have to be a who and could just as likely be a what. Their data stores would make a suitable and irreplaceable bargaining chip.

When Leon couldn’t take it anymore, he stood and paced impatiently in front of me. “This is beyond getting ready time. We need to check the room. I knew we should have been more prepared for a second kidnapping.”

I nodded, bemused by his lack of patience and awareness. “Probably grabbed her the moment Dorian left the room just over an hour ago. Likely they’ve been watching us since we came back.”

Leon paced more frantically, nearly wringing his hands. Beyond his pacing, I locked eyes with Marcella, who had stopped to meet someone at the bar. She had been there for the last ten minutes nursing a brightly colored cocktail and laughing very convincingly.

The woman she spoke to had her back to me and I couldn’t see her face to read her expression, but I had a clear view of Marcella’s. Her laugh carried through the lobby, but I couldn’t make out any words. At times, her smile was genuine, but I could tell when she steered the conversation in a specific direction because her movements would become jerkier, almost rushed.

At last, the chat seemed to be winding down when Marcella stood and gave the other woman a hug. Her features were a combination of satisfaction and uncertainty, and I couldn’t determine if she’d gotten any answers.

I didn’t blame Leon for missing her—she had changed her hair. It was now a smart bob rather than the cascade of tresses he had seen before. She was also wearing a dark maroon coat and looked significantly cleaner. Seeing Leon worked up made me think I should have alerted him to her presence earlier, and I made a note not to let him get worked up again.

Before the retired fighter could make a break for the lifts, I stood up and walked toward the revolving door. I nodded at Marcella as I went, and Leon, following my gaze, stopped his huffing and puffing and frowned. “How long?”

I couldn’t keep myself from grinning. “Long enough for you to be more than a little embarrassed.”

He looked concerned for a moment, then angry, then settled on befuddled reluctance. “Just go ahead. Tell me which direction. I’ll hang back a few.”

I nodded, still smiling a bit. “See you on the other side.”

I joined up with Marcella at the revolving door and passed her the earpiece as we rode it through. “You ready to find some answers?”

She smiled and put her arm through mine. “I think we’re going to have lots of fun on our date today.”

I kept an even stride, conscious of the crowd and moving right and left to help her avoid bumping into people. “Is that what you want to call it?”

She stopped, turned around, and then grabbed my arm as I caught up. She hugged herself against my left side. “I’d rather pretend we’re out having fun. It keeps my mind off what’s possible. Can you give me that for now?”

I felt a tremble in her grip, a falter in her step as she clung tighter to me. “We’ll make it work.” Then, to keep her on mission, I asked, “What did you find out on your little adventure at the bar?”

As I’d intended, she took the bait and her features took on a serious edge. “The relic hunters hang out in a bar downtown called the Bad Prospects.”

I repeated the name for Leon’s benefit. “Bad Prospects. Something of a sense of humor from these relic hunter types?”

Marcella smiled, a bit more skip back in her step. “I think it works like actors. You gotta be upfront with the bad luck to hope in secret for the good.”

It was a valid point, if somewhat superstitious. Simple, well stated, a bit of whimsy mixed in the truth of it. “What are we expecting when we get there?”

The first signs of frustration replaced the bright smile and she stared straight ahead as we walked. “This particular place is relatively low on the chain. I got the name of the bar, no problem, but she also gave me a clue. To get in without being flagged, we need to tell the barkeeper the answer.”

“You didn’t get the answer,” I said, more statement than question.

“No. She said it would get her kicked out. So, we have to figure it out.”

“Okay, what’s the clue?”

Marcella took a deep breath, then began to recite. “I declare, in order to raise the bar and drink with the gods, you must first go blue in the face.”

It sounded like gibberish to me, but it clearly meant something. “That’s all she said?” I asked.

“Yes. Well, no. She also said to order a drink, but it’s a bar. We’d look out of place if we didn’t. The hunter networks keep their information vague. Nobody wants to give away too much, but they all need to rely on each other to get anywhere. We’ll hit the place and maybe you can do your thing.”

She left that open-ended, so I felt compelled to follow up. “My thing?”

She giggled. “Don’t hide it. I’ve been watching you get through situations for a few days now. You and your uncle seem pretty good at getting in and out of binds. He does it through years of experience, you do it by seeing through people.”

I gave her a sideways glance as we turned uptown and hit a denser body of foot traffic. She didn’t seem bothered by my ability and for some reason that made me feel lighter. “People tend to mean more than they say and say more than they mean. I just sort through the noise to find the underlying bits. Like a prospector sifting for the good ore in the dirt.”

She laughed, amused at making her point. “See, right there. Not only did you not answer the question, but you did it in the context of the group we’re talking about. I find it fascinating.” She unhooked herself from my arm and sped up. “But if you’re not going to give me straight answers, I can always do this by myself.” The sudden shift in her attitude threw me off balance.

Then Marcella was gone, disappearing in the crowd with aplomb. I hastened to catch up, trying to keep her in sight or to at least spot her taking any turn down a side street or corner. If nothing else, she would still be heading to the Bad Prospects, so I could catch her there. I frowned, dismayed that I would have to put in the effort and upset that she had taken off.

No sooner had I resigned myself to the horror of trying to find her and explain how I lost her in the first place than she popped up behind me. She shoved me in the back and giggled. “You gotta lighten up, Alphonse. Go with the flow a bit, stop overanalyzing. You have instincts. Use them.”

I wanted to freeze in place, to take in the enormity of what she had just said about me. Was that how she thought of me? Instead, I shook it off and kept walking. I fixed a smile on my face. “Marcella, I think we are going to have a very productive day.”

* * *

The exterior of the Bad Prospects had a rustic flair to it and wove a fine line between looking like an archeologist club and ravager bar. Flat steel panels with all manner of antique memorabilia tacked up on the sides that spelled out the word “Bad,” while “Prospects” was done in a splash of rust-colored paint.

The interior of the bar matched its exterior in mood but shattered any illusion of comfort. A small collection of industrial sluice grate-topped tables adorned with faux-leather chairs and a ring of booths looked worn and cracked. The air was hazy with an electric scent.

Marcella stood out among the rest of the patrons who wore tattered, sun-bleached clothes over dirty, heavy canvas jumpsuits. These were people used to living in the weather and clinging to rocks with little food or water. Their haven was a place removed from the sun, where vices could be purchased at a whim and their attention to personal details was no longer needed.

We set a course for the bar. I took a moment to grab the attention of a worker—a slim, young girl in a green top and dirty hat.

She walked over and handed me an order pad disinterestedly before walking off again.

While Marcella scoped the space out, I swiped through the menu options on the pad. Nothing looked particularly appealing and they didn’t feature tea. I noted the prices were reasonable, save for one.

A drink called Darius’ Grail went for an astonishing fifteen billion credits and came served in a neutronium cup. I’d never heard of the alcohol, something called Clare Whiskey, and a side tube filled with another blue alcohol sat on the rim.

Beside me, Marcella muttered to herself, still trying to figure out the riddle. “Blue in the face… asphyxiation? No. Being cold? No.”

“Marcella,” I said quietly, staring at the menu.

“What?”

“Look. I think we have to order this.” I handed her the menu and watched as her eyes widened with shocked understanding when she read the quote under the drink description like I had.

“It makes sense,” she said, excitedly. “Darius Clare is something of a celebrity among relic hunters. His grail quest—”

“His what?” I asked, not understanding the term.

“Every hunter has a quest, the most important artifact to them. Usually impossible. It comes from an old legend about our ancestors. They believed a cup to have all the answers to the universe. Which is silly, because, well, it’s just a cup. Anyhow, they called it the Holy Grail. So, hunters call their impossible quests a grail. For Darius it was discovering where we came from.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s try it.”

Marcella shrugged. “Here goes nothing.”

She input the drink and her account information, then completed the order. Almost instantly, the pad beeped a warning.

“Damn, insufficient funds. I don’t suppose you have fifteen billion credits, Alphonse?”

“Not even close,” I told her. “Let me see.”

She handed it back and I tried to put the same request in, studying each screen before moving to the next. On the last page to pay, a discount option appeared. Curious, I opened it. And smiled.

“The riddle isn’t just the drink,” I told her, then pointed to the pad again. “It says ‘discount code,’ so I’m assuming we have to decipher the clue to get the code.”

Before she could respond, I typed in an answer. The pad chirped again, but to let me know the discount had been applied and the drink was now free.

Marcella’s mouth dropped open. “How the hell—”

“The first part of the quote. That’s not an I, it’s a one. And declare was spelled using Darius Clare’s first initial and last name. I initially mistook those to be errors.”

The bartender returned then and smiled at us.

“I’ll take you to the back,” she said in a friendly tone, then came around the side of the bar.

We followed the short distance in silence until we came to a door. It slid open and the woman gestured us inside. As soon as we were through, the door closed behind us with the bartender on the other side.

“It must be a puzzle,” Marcella said.

“Or she’s called for backup,” I replied.

The room was empty except for a data pad on one wall. When we walked over to it, the device blinked on and a wheel appeared on the screen. Upon closer inspection, I saw that it was three wheels, each a portion of a different picture.

“I know what this is,” I said, recognizing the style. “It’s a pictopuzzle. You have to turn them each in a different direction until they all line up.”

“That sounds too easy,” remarked Marcella.

I happened to agree with her. She picked it up first and began twisting the pieces. When her finger touched the screen, a countdown timer appeared in the top right-hand corner of the display.

“Dammit, when I move one, the other two go in opposite directions,” she complained.

“Let me try,” I said, holding out my hand. “I’ve done these before. I don’t want to find out what happens after the five minutes are up.”

She passed it back reluctantly.

It didn’t take me long to figure out the pattern of the cypher. I moved each wheel once to determine how the other two wheels changed. From there, it was simple math and a little planning to get the rest.

I completed the puzzle with a minute to spare.

Returning the pad to its resting place, I found that it fit like a key into a lock. There was a deep click, then the wall swung outward to reveal a corridor.

Marcella looked slightly annoyed that I had figured out the problem, but that began to fade when we left the room. The walkway was sleek and clean, but bare. Simple lighting illuminated our way and I could feel her excitement growing as we went deeper into the building. By the time it emptied into a large hall filled with people that I assumed to be relic hunters and the like, she could barely contain herself.

“We did it!”

“What now?” I asked. “Surely it would be odd to just walk up and ask sensitive questions?”

She nodded. “You’re right. Oh, wait. I know that man over there. He’s a client. You ready to do your thing?”

I could tell by the way her words tumbled out that she was nervous. I put my arm through hers and squeezed gently to reassure her. “I’m ready.”

The man grinned when he saw Marcella and I approaching and threw his hands wide in a friendly gesture. She let go of me to hug the older man and pecked him once on each cheek. “Geoff! It’s been ages. Allow me to introduce my friend and colleague, Alphonse Malloy.”

Geoff stuck his hand out and I shook it. He looked relaxed and clean cut compared to some of the other patrons, and I judged him to be genuine.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“How are you, Geoff?” Marcella cut in, obviously impatient. “I’m here because I need information about an upcoming sale next week.”

Geoff’s demeanor changed at the mention of the auction. His face went emotionless and his body grew stiff. The man definitely knew something. “That is unfortunate, dear. I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.”

Marcella’s eyes went glassy. “It’s my father. He’s gone missing. The last I heard, he went to meet a seller with a business proposition. No one has seen him since.”

Geoff visibly relaxed. “Ah, I see. Marcella, I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Maybe I can help after all. Since this isn’t about the sale.” He laid a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Let’s have ourselves a chat.”

16

Hours later, we arrived at a large business built to imitate a sleek tower.

The clue given to Marcella by Geoff had been three letters. DTC. It had sounded familiar to me, but she figured it out first, much to her smug satisfaction. DTC referred to Dinesian Trading Company, a direct competitor of Velio’s.

We’d gone to The Prime Lady to decipher the meaning where, again, Marcella figured it out first. She’d surmised that though they had offices all over the planet, their headquarters were in Celtan. It didn’t take long to find the location on the gal-net and obtain a directory of the businesses there.

It had almost been too easy. Desert Rose Restorations and Appraisals, located on the 33rd level of the building.

We exited the transport. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leon getting out of another at the far end of the street. I wondered if he had gotten a kick out of saying “follow that transport,” or if he had been more subtle about it.

Dorian had already sent a message to my wrist unit to tell me that he’d spotted a tail.

Don’t let your guard down. Have eyes on me. Contact after following your leads.

I opened both comms. “We’re in the vicinity. If our man is here, he will be on the 33rd floor. I don’t know what kind of security we’ll be looking at. Current plan is to get in from above. Be ready for a quick extraction.”

After reviewing the floor plan options above level 33, we’d discovered one that looked promising. There was a “coming soon” listed on 37. That would be our way in.

The plan involved Marcella and I posing as a couple with too much time and money on our hands. I found that getting into character had become quite easy for me and I hooked my arm around Marcella’s, then gestured at the lobby doors. “Shall we inspect our new business venture?”

She pressed easily into my embrace. “How will we ever find a way to spend all this money? I want to just decorate and then throw it all out and decorate it all over again.”

We were already past the doors and headed to the lift. The light banter turned the lobby securities’ initial glares into headshaking dismissal.  Nobody liked hearing rich people talk rich-people nonsense. Least of all poorly paid guards.

Once in the lift, I tapped the touch pad for the 37th floor and the elevator took off smoothly. It only took a few seconds to reach our destination and we exited onto the floor to see a locked door and a variety of the usual construction paraphernalia—tarps and tools, as Dorian would say.

The lock took little work to open with a clicker. It took me back to my time on Meridian, working with Remi to do Evelyn’s bidding.  Marcella didn’t ask any questions as I worked the device and passed through the doorway. She just kept a few steps back with a look of doubt across her beautiful features. There was a quiver, though, as I opened the paneling into the duct system. Not a fear of heights or enclosed spaces; we had already been through those. It was a touch of fear of meeting the man who might be her father, a rare emotional burst through her normally carefully controlled exterior.

I reached out a hand. “Whoever we find down there, know that you have outgrown the need for a parent. This is just you finding the key to your puzzle. Right?”

Marcella nodded and took my hand. She pulled herself into me for a quick hug, which took me slightly off guard. “Thank you for bringing me here, for showing me you had it in you to be what I needed.” She pulled herself back from the embrace and then pulled a pair of magsliders out of the gear bag. “Race you down!”

“That is not good judgment,” I chided.

She just rolled her eyes. “Kidding, Alphonse. I know better. Still, bet I win.” With a smirk, she pulled herself into the ducting in a smooth, practiced motion and descended. I composed myself, pulled out a second pair of magsliders, and followed her.

I stopped abruptly as I ran into Marcella at the access panel to the 33rd floor. She was struggling to situate herself so she could push open the panel and not tumble further down the shaft.

For a moment, we were twined together with arms and legs impeding our movement no matter what adjustments we tried to make. Finally, I shoved a magslider onto my foot and anchored across, offering her a seat. From that vantage point, she pried the latch open and pushed the panel away to crawl inside the room. I pulled my foot out of the magslide and mirrored her move. Seconds later, we were on the 33rd floor.

I took a quick survey of the surroundings on the other side of the panel, which seemed to match the blueprints we’d been able to purchase from an illegal merchant on the gal-net. The room was dimly lit and appeared to be someone’s office. A shaded window graced one wall, and Marcella and I moved to it in a low crouch.

Just outside, an upscale reception lobby was being patrolled by a pair of armed guards that read like mercenaries. As they moved away to finish their rounds, approaching footsteps sounded from the opposite direction. Before either of us could react, the office door swung open and the light flipped on, exposing us.

Marcella stood behind me staring at an older, distinguished-looking man. I recognized him from the files as Constable Lacroan, though he looked less illustrious than his picture. I estimated that he’d lost some weight, and his clothes hung on his slender frame.

When the door closed and the Constable noticed us, he jumped. Training kept him silent and he recovered quickly.

“Don’t alert the guards, Lacroan. We’re here to help.” With Marcella in the room I didn’t reveal either of our identities as Constables. “But first, the lady needs to speak with you.”

He sat at a work desk, still deigning to say anything. I noticed his gaze cut down to an artifact there, then back up to us. Shrugging, he picked it up and carefully began to clean it. It looked remarkably similar to the gun I had helped steal from Meridian.

From the silence and pained, confused expression frozen on her face, it was clear that Lacroan was her father, which confirmed my suspicions.

“Ask your questions,” I told her. “I’ll get what I need after.”

She tugged at the shield necklace, the one I’d seen her wearing in the lobby of The Prime Lady. “Dad?”

Lacroan was startled, dropping a tool and nearly bobbling the artifact onto the floor after it. He turned as if stricken. “Marcella? But… how? How are you here? How did you find me?”

Marcella ran forward and embraced Lacroan. “I used what you taught me. I followed the clues and didn’t ever give up.” Through the embrace, I locked eyes with Lacroan, and his face told an obvious story. He was tired, worn out from doing delicate work with few resources and no support. But there was something else, too much to see in an instant.

Marcella broke off the hug and turned to me. “This is Alphonse. He helped me a lot in the last few days. I wouldn’t be here without him. He’s going to help get you out of here.”

Lacroan sighed heavily and sat back down. “I don’t know how. Evelyn has me under constant watch and guard. The only reason they aren’t in here now is because the weapons create an instability with the artifact repairs. I will be expected to check in with them soon, though. I need to put this away in a time lock before they enter.”

He gestured to a transparent safe nearby. It showed a timer with twelve minutes remaining.

Marcella patted him on the shoulder. “Just tell Alphonse what’s going on. He’s amazing at solving problems. He also has a team outside. We can do this. We can save you!”

Lacroan shook his head in defeat. “I don’t know that I can be saved. I’ve done too much for Evelyn now. She has to be stopped before I can go anywhere.”

That was the second time he’d mentioned her by name. I wondered then if he knew who I really was. It wouldn’t be a stretch for Evelyn to have mentioned me to him.

“What have you been doing for her?” I asked bluntly. “To stop her, we need to know what she’s planning.”

Lacroan glanced furtively at the timer and went to peer out the window. The coast must have been clear, because he came back and started speaking in an urgent whisper. “She has a device. A diffusion pod. She’s going to use the stolen neutronium to power up the pod and transfer energy to the various artifacts she and her buyers have been amassing.”

It was a heavy statement, but it sounded implausible. “How? I know you are an expert on this ancient tech, but my understanding was no known energy or technique could activate them.”

Lacroan shook his head. “I found a way. It was partially an accident. I’ve been pretending I didn’t have the right materials to fully complete the process, delaying Evelyn’s final sale, but she told me she would harm something very dear to me if I didn’t stop stalling. I’d assumed Marcella had been kidnapped.”

Marcella nodded angrily. “I was. They were going to hold me with some other prisoners, people connected to the buyers. Alphonse rescued us both.”

I felt something hot on the back of my neck as the hairs on it raised. Something wasn’t adding up. I keyed my left comm, then I leaned into the awkward feeling and let it spill into my voice. “It’s more complicated than that. Marcella saved me as much as I saved her. She’s more than resourceful. She’s outright clever.”

Leon came through on the right earpiece. “We have movement in the downstairs lobby. A lot. You need to get out of there and fast.”

I looked to Marcella and confirmed that she’d heard the message too. “You go. Don’t try and delay them. I’ll get the information we need to stop Evelyn and be right behind you.”

Marcella nodded, hugged Lacroan again, and then climbed into the vent. “See you soon, Dad. It will be alright, I promise.”

I looked to the time lock. We had under five minutes. I turned off both of my comms, pulled out the left earpiece, and placed it in Lacroan’s hand. “You’re not leaving. I assume you have a plan?” I asked.

Lacroan looked at the comm and nodded. “We don’t have much time. I know you. I saw your file when I got the Evelyn case. If you want to stop her, you will need an artifact. I’ve been telling Evelyn there is a component to the diffusion pod that can be found in a vault outside the city. I’ve sold her on the idea that it not only makes the pod work but can wirelessly empower multiple devices at once.”

As he spoke, he returned to his work, prepping the artifact weapon for some future task and carefully watching the time lock. “Follow the river to a place where the valley dips and bends. This is where the vault should lie. Get me the contents inside and I can reverse everything the pod does. At the sale, there will be a moment where she will be left powerless and exposed. That will be your chance.”

Everything about Lacroan’s behavior was off. Off so much that it was perfect. Too perfect, as though he were a robot following commands. He made no sign or gesture to indicate the existence of cameras or bugs. His plan to foil Evelyn was being delivered at an even volume without subtext. Even his acceptance of Marcella as his daughter was carefully presented to enjoin authenticity. This was a trap.

I nodded, playing along until I could discover his true motivation. “How do I get this artifact to you?”

Lacroan placed the ancient gun in the timelock. “Give it to Marcella. She will make sure it gets back here. You can trust her. She’s family.”

Footsteps sounded in the hall, signaling the return of the guards. Lacroan paused, staring at me for a few seconds before finally turning slightly to give me a quick wink. It was barely discernible that I might have missed it, but it was enough to tell me what I needed to know. He had hidden himself from whatever cameras there were, showing me just enough to reveal the truth of the situation—to tell me he was on my side.

I didn’t dare respond to his showing, but instead stepped into the shaft. “See you soon,” I said, simply, and then sealed the access panel as I heard the door open and the guards enter. As far as Evelyn knew, her ruse was working perfectly. I had to trust my instinct that between my own efforts and Lacroan’s, Evelyn would be walking into a trap of her own making.

17

Dorian worked the controls, shifting the ship into a low-orbit freefall. He looked at the vectors I had set and dismissed them with a huff. “Kid, you gotta learn to put some finesse in your space flight. If you woo women the way you plot courses, I expect them to call you Alpha Lame.”

That elicited a light laugh from Marcella.

I gave the other Constable my sourest face and set in the next vector: rigid, correct, no frills. He gunned the engine, emerging from the freefall and blasting a shockwave into the side of the canyon that shook trees and sent flying creatures skyward.

“That’s how it’s done!”

I tried to deepen my look of rancor but found it tiresome to put on the act, so I rolled my eyes instead. “Fine. I’m being surly. Look, we’re not out of the woods. We have to find this place, get the goods, and then deal with Evelyn. Added to that is keeping Marcella’s father safe and retrieving this artifact.”

Dorian cut the engines again, letting the ship slide into an air pocket laterally before cranking up the force again. Marcella’s face lit up with excitement as Dorian put the ship through several more maneuvers before smoothing out again.

I expanded the holo display and chose a nearby spot that would work to set us down. “I see an area where we can set down easily. One of us will have to stay with the ship and make sure no one tries anything while we’re gone.”

Dorian, flying carefully now, headed to the marked landing site. “Leon, you up to the task?”

Leon, who had been quiet thus far, and now looked a little green, nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. I don’t think I’m up for exploring a cave right now.”

I looked back to the display. “Alright. The coordinates I found look solid. We’re entering a delta that has been cut into by a second river. This is the place that Lacroan described as ‘where the river dips and bends.’ We should see something subtly artificial along the canyon wall.”

The ship slowed to a crawl and the four of us stared intently out the screen. I ordered the sensors to look for abnormalities in the composition of the wall but, as I suspected, the scans came back inconclusive. “Keep looking. Anything that seems strange. I’m trying a parallax scan for mathematically implausible flat areas among the sediment layers.”

The bridge stayed quiet, with only the hum of the thrusters breaking the silence as we searched for any sign of Lacroan’s vault.

Marcella spoke first. “Stop. I’ve got something.”

Dorian pulled the ship into a shallow hover. “Where?”

“Left. On your side. How do I—”

I unbuckled and joined her to lean over the console, then tapped to indicate a spot. The spot I’d touched lit up and coordinates appeared. “Just highlight what you see.”

She punched in a few keys and then circled the area she’d seen.

There was a brown expanse of rock painted onto the red background. It looked the same as every other brown and red outcropping along the cliffside except for one difference. A subtle line of white that stopped for a moment and reappeared on the other side of the brown clump.

I nodded to Dorian. “It’s worth a look. Bring us in tight and I’ll take another scan. With a specific target, the sensors might pick up something.”

The MikroTrek did a slow pass of the wall Marcella had indicated, getting close enough to set off the proximity sensors, but Dorian didn’t let the ship hit it. All Tiros were trained to learn tactical procedures, especially those that might occur in the field, but Dorian excelled at piloting. I didn’t think even the A.I. could have performed as well.

I studied the sensor readings of the wall of the canyon. It was the same combination of minerals as the rest. Even so, there was something puzzling about the brown slab.

Marcella, ever the relic hunter’s daughter, noticed it first. “It’s not as thick here,” she said, indicating the display. “See, here? The density of the rock on either side is nearly triple this section. But…”

Her brow furrowed in confusion and I examined the readout again. Her confusion stemmed from the readings beyond the initial discrepancy. “That can’t be right.”

“Excellent observation, Marcella.” I shot her a smile. “Let’s go find a vault.”

* * *

“Digger,” I said, reaching out a hand.

Leon handed me the square tool and braced himself against the hatch. He clung on to my harness as I leaned forward and planted the edge of the digger into the slab. It gave way with a crunch and tumbled into the river below. Beneath it, a scintillating metallic substance shone. I placed the digger against the edge of the metal and the surrounding rock and pulled. Another hunk came off and careened downward.

Again, I set and pulled and then switched off with Leon. We worked at the wall for an hour until it was clear. The clumps of stone came free too easily, as though the sediment had packed and solidified in unnatural ways. None of us had noticed, but Leon had pointed it out, recognizing it easily from his time working with the ores in the area. My own experience and training lacked in that area, so I had no frame of reference to compare it to.

The cliff wall didn’t offer any ledges that could be used as a natural pathway, but we’d come prepared. With the entrance to the vault finally exposed, we set a series of climbing anchors along the side and top, then began constructing a kind of temporary scaffold and ladder.

I opened my comms. “Dorian, we’ve got everything set for egress. Coming up now.”

Leon and I ascended the wall face and pulled ourselves over the top to where the ship and our small crew waited.

Marcella emerged from the MikroTrek in an outfit more fitted for exploration. An array of sensible pockets with tools and equipment adorned her clothing and an explorer’s belt was secured around her torso and waist. She moved nimbly, even under all the gear, telling me she wore it frequently. Dorian came out behind her in tactical clothes, carrying a pistol in one hand and another on his hip.

With the anchors placed, I attached ropes and tested the lines, then stood ready to go over the edge with a medkit on my back. Leon retreated to the cockpit, ready to react if needed. Marcella and Dorian joined me on the platform below. After acknowledging we were all ready, the other constable gave the signal and we rappelled down to the platform.

The doorway gleamed dully and didn’t totally reflect with the light. I theorized the metal had been treated with something to avoid detection in case the facade failed due to weather or those like us who were looking for it. Depending on how I turned my head, the metal took on a deep blue color or a faint purple with glyphs etched into it. Marcella traced her fingers along several of the markings.

“Does any of this seem familiar?” I asked. “Did your father teach you anything about this?”

She shook her head. “I saw some books he had, but I was young. This is beyond casual knowledge.”

Dorian finished his own scans with a handheld scanner. “I’m getting readings all over the place. None of it holds steady from one scan to the next. Based on what I’m seeing, it’s an unknown cloaking tech or something inside is jamming the signal from going beyond this point. I’m betting on the former.”

I examined every centimeter of the door but didn’t see anything obvious. The edges we had uncovered melded with the surrounding rock until they appeared to become one, then turned into the denser stone.

After we had exhausted our ideas and scans, Marcella sat on the platform with a frustrated sigh and tilted her head back and forth. “Why does it mess with the light like that?” She squinted at the door.

Though I knew what she was referring to, I sat next to her and matched her head motions to gain another perspective. But it looked the same.

“Light is nothing more than visible radiation,” I said, offhandedly, remembering a science class I’d actually enjoyed at Quintell Academy. “What it’s doing is absorbing some of that radiation but not all and not all at once. It reflects and redistributes the light purposely. Like a vid screen would do.”

“What, Al, you got something?” asked Dorian when I sat up abruptly.

“Maybe, maybe not,” I said. My seemingly innocuous explanation had sparked an idea. They seemed to be asking for a specific band of radiation. I fished an infrared light out of the tool bag.

I focused the invisible heat radiation on the wall. Nothing changed at first. I swept the light down to the bottom and then to the top. The pattern of absorption was changing. After a moment, I was able to determine there was a reset time of about five seconds.

Dorian watched with interest. “Is it a code or a key?”

I frowned as I focused the beam for another pass. “I think both miss the real purpose. I think it’s more like an itch. It needs to be scratched until it feels comfortable.”

Dorian took a swig of water and laughed. “If you don’t get this thing open, I’m going to make jokes about that for a long time.”

I concentrated on moving the light, building in speed as the etchings grew in intensity and then slowing again as they spread out. There was a rumble from behind the door, a click, then the metal depressed inward and created a large circle just taller than Dorian. It irised open from the center outward. Beyond, a lit passage extended down into the cliffside.

While the walls of the chamber were sleek and covered in the same kind of etchings as the door, they didn’t have the same scintillating quality. Light passed over them with common reflection.

“Alright, Leon. Stay on standby. We’re entering the vault. Communication may get cut,” I said.

“You got it, Alphonse.”

There was a tense moment when we all held our breath as though the door might slam shut behind us. Despite my own misgivings, I stepped forward, then turned in anticipation to see if anything might happen. It didn’t, and the door remained open, much to my relief.

Marcella laughed and Dorian shot me a grin. “See, I knew this wasn’t a complete deathtrap.”

We moved deeper into the rock and followed the hallway before it went right, then turned sharply to the left. Another 50 meters, and it turned again, back to the right. I was almost expecting another turn, but the passageway suddenly stopped in a dead end.

The etchings on the wall were more pronounced here, less a subtle set of lines buried in the metal with deeper grooves. I reached out and touched a design. It flashed with an internal power and a tone reverberated in the chamber. I pulled my hand back. After a few seconds, the light turned off and the tone stopped.

“Leon, we have a dead end down here.” Nothing but static came from the comms.

I looked from Dorian to Marcella. “About what we expected. Ideas?”

Dorian looked perplexed. “Not yet, but then, this isn’t really my area of expertise. Marcella? You’re the one with an archeologist lineage.”

Marcella approached the etchings and studied them. “I love music. Studied it some after my dad left. That sounded like a note to me. It’s really just a form of math. If we can figure out what the tones mean, maybe we can make it move?”

I kneeled and inspected the floor. It was flush with the walls around, the same layer of red dust. Still, the passage had to go somewhere and an elevator into the depths of the canyon was most likely. “You might be right. It’s plausible that this is a lift of sorts. Give it a shot,” I said, stepping back to give her room.

Marcella traced her fingers over several etchings softly enough not to engage any of them. She seemed to be getting a feel of the patterns and placement. After analyzing them all, she pressed one after another, pausing between to listen to the tone and wait for the symbol’s light to fade.

“I think I’ve got it,” she whispered. “Here goes.” She pushed an etching that resembled a star, then another like a sun on a horizon, and then a barge tipped on its side.

Each brightened with an internal blue light. Each emitted a tone that harmonized with the next into a chord. There was a shift in the pressure of the chamber.

We reflexively went for our air masks and then relaxed when the pressure change subsided. The movement kicked up a spray of red dust that caused us to cough, then the walls began to move around us. No, I realized, the floor was moving. I’d been right; we had been standing on an elevator. The vault lift was underway.

18

Beyond the small square of light produced by the wall and the floor, everything was dark. There was a faint hiss as the lift settled and then a click as it fully integrated with the floor. As it did so, the same subtle glow that lit the areas above came on.

Light snaked out from the central platform. We now stood in an alcove roughly 20 square meters in size. The lights continued to illuminate a branching set of paths going out from the alcove in three separate directions.

Marcella walked from one entrance to the next, peering down the long tunnels. Each was longer than the passages above and ended in a door. The doors were attached to a thick conduit mounted across the ceiling that wound into the alcove, around the lift, and joined with the northern door. There, the three lines terminated in dark recessed boxes.

The boxes seemed straightforward enough. Assuming the other doors were accessible, they would house something that locked this final path.

Dorian hadn’t moved from the central platform as we inspected the pathways and marveled at the installation. “I’ve been to a lot of planets. I’ve seen the inside of a lot of prisons, panic rooms, and safehouses, and the one thing they all had in addition to physical barriers was active security. Tread lightly.”

Marcella fixed him with a sardonic look and raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was the one with archaeologist lineage, Mr. Tribal?”

“And I’m a Renegade. One with a sense of self-preservation.” That said, he left the platform and headed to the eastern passage. “Might as well take it clockwise and see where it goes.”

I nodded and followed along, with Marcella just behind me. The eastern door was shut but not sealed, we discovered. As soon as Dorian was within five meters of it, the central bar turned 90 degrees, and the doorway parted in the middle.

Beyond was a small cubic container. Attached to it was a conduit line, which went up to the ceiling and out the door.

Dorian took up the lead as we slowly inched forward, looking for signs of danger. “Whatever that is, it clearly needs to be powered up. The question is how, and is it only going to power the door?”

The room was ridiculously cold. Aside from the cube, four tubular objects stood in the corners of the room. Each was topped with an oddly shaped metal piece that had notching around the edge. The base of the cylinders linked into the wall.

Once Marcella stepped five meters beyond the door, it cycled shut. She gave a bit of a jump and ran back to the door. It immediately cycled open again, and she let out a whistle. “Look at that, Dorian. You have me so paranoid, I’m afraid of a door.”

Dorian frowned. “Better to look silly being cautious than die looking brave.”

I shook my head. “Let’s not linger. Staying in this room for too long isn’t a good idea. I don’t know what’s making it cold, but I doubt the cold, or the air quality, is good for us.”

I looked closely at the object in the center. It was featureless, a perfect cube only slightly smaller than the platform it rested on. I traced a finger along the side, seeing if it had a dormant interface.

Dorian drew himself into a defensive stance, but he said nothing.

I noticed the cube glow ever so slightly from my touch. It reverted to its dull color when I pulled back my hand. “I think it responds to heat.” I leaned forward and breathed hard on it for a moment. It started to glow as my puffs hit it but quickly reverted. “Check the devices in the corners. I think they may be heaters of some kind.”

Dorian stood his ground, hand in his coat, ready to act. Marcella brushed past him and moved to the device in the back right corner. I moved to the back left.

The base cylinder was solid and mounted into the wall. The top part looked as if it could be repositioned.

Marcella confirmed this suspicion. “You can pull the thing on top off. It rotates and then sucks back down, like a magnet.”

I pulled up on the metal piece. It came away with a little pressure but could only be raised about an inch off the cylinder. Pulling it beyond that point met with fierce resistance. At that height, it was easy to rotate and then place back down. Doing so had a noticeable change to the device and the room in general.

Lights danced in the cylinder and the temperature of the room shot up.

Marcella pulled and snapped her device into a new configuration. The room temperature continued to increase.

“It’s a key,” I realized. “Or a dial to control the heat output.”

Dorian was watching the cube carefully. “Makes sense. It’s starting to light up, Alphonse. What are we hoping for?”

I signaled to Marcella and we walked to the devices in the other corners. “Like the lift and the vault lights, I think we are aiming for a mild reaction, something of a pleasant ambient glow.”

Dorian nodded. “You’ve got a dull glow so far.”

I picked up the key and turned it in my hand. The configuration of notching allowed it to sit in different positions on the cylinder. I set it down, turning it horizontally and getting feedback from Dorian.

“You’re getting somewhere. Each turn is making the cube change. Sometimes it flashes and other times it seems to change color.”

I did a quick check on the math. There were eight unique positions each key could be placed in.  With four across the chamber, this gave us thirty-two combinations. “Any significance to the number thirty-two in music, Marcella?”

She smiled wide and ran to me. “Yes! Many songs follow a thirty-two-bar structure. It repeats the harmonies twice, changes to a minor harmonic, and then repeats the original again. A pretty common form, actually.”

I nodded. “Alright, so we need to change each one of the keys to represent the form.”

Dorian scowled. “Shame you already moved everything. We have no idea what is different or what needs to be placed back.”

I considered that. “I don’t think it matters. As long as we follow the pattern, assuming our guess about the music is correct, it will still work.”

I turned the keys on my side to a matching orientation in relation to the central cube. “Marcella, match this in the far corner and then change it up in the corner you started from.”

“I’m on it, Alphonse.” She maneuvered the first key, then ran across the room to the other. She picked it up, considered her options, and placed it down gently. The temperature in the room climbed rapidly and stabilized at the same level as the outside corridor. The cube hummed rhythmically as the glow inside grew to a pleasant ambience. The conduit attached flashed brightly.

Dorian relaxed. “You two are something else. Music. Clever, when you think about it.”

We walked out of the chamber and followed the corridor along. The conduit along the way flashed with light until it too gained a steady, ambient hum.

We headed south to the next door. Like the eastward door, it cycled open at five meters and cycled shut once we passed that threshold within.

This chamber also featured a central cube connected to a conduit on a column. The room was the same temperature as the outside corridor, and I didn’t see any objects on the walls. The floor and ceiling, however, showed three symbols on each segment. We stood in the vestibule near the door and inspected the floor. The segments were spaced so a total of eight of them stretched from wall to wall with a gap of blank segments directly in front of the cube column.

I turned to Marcella. “Any chance you have information on the significance of eight?”

She clapped her hands and whistled. “As a matter of fact, there are quite a few uses for eight in music. Too many to make a guess, though.”

Wanting to think, I began to pace and considered everything we’d learned so far. I avoided accidentally stepping on the floor symbols by retreating through the vestibule to the door and back. The door cycled open and closed each time I neared it, but it was slightly off from the other doors. This distracted me and I passed through it a few more times, then stopped pacing.

“Wait here, I need to go verify something,” I told them.

As I’d suspected, the other doors were indeed different. The key was that when this door sensed my approach and opened, it did so from much farther away than the other. “Add the significance of five to eight. The other doors have all opened at a set distance of almost three meters, this one does at five.”

Marcella clapped her hands again. “Oh. I have it!” She leaned down and tapped the largest symbol on the segment nearest the wall. The segment pushed up and began to spin. A glow started in the cube.

Dorian studied the cube with fascination. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”

Marcella waved him off. “It’s just a pattern. Don’t worry, Dorian. I’ve got this.” She touched the smallest symbol on the next segment and then the middle-sized one. She finished with another small symbol. She was grinning and whistling as she made her way to the other wall and set out another set of symbols. Large, small, small, middle.

The cube flickered and glowed, but a softer light than the ambience. The sound of the segments spinning at various speeds echoed loudly in the chamber and made communicating difficult.

Marcella strained herself to be heard. “Something’s missing.”

Dorian backed another step up but stuck to the wall, keeping his profile rigid as the cube spun faster and created a powerful wind. “We’re getting out of here. Now.”

I grabbed Marcella’s hand. “We need to regroup. Maybe it will reset.”

She pulled herself from my grip and stared at the ceiling. “Hold on, I know what to do. Five-eighths time. I just needed the fifth parts.” She reached up and hit the smallest symbol on both segments in the middle, directly above the cube column.

The cube column that sat exactly above where she was standing and reaching.

I jumped forward and grabbed her, tossing her back toward Dorian. I tried to duck down, but it was too late. The ceiling segments dislodged and swung low and hard, scraping just past the sides of the cube and right into my head. I was pulled off my feet and thrown backward by the force.

Everything went black for a brief moment and my mouth filled with the taste of copper. My vision was blotchy, and my jaw ached where it had connected with something hard. I’d taken a heck of a beating.

Marcella was stooped over me, yelling something, but my ears were ringing, and it drowned out her words. Dorian grabbed me and dragged me into the corridor. As we moved, I saw that the conduit had started to glow.

I tried to stand up, but the world wouldn’t stay still. “Is the vault collapsing? The floor has tilted.”

Dorian scowled down at me. “You got hit on the head, possible skull fracture and definite concussion. The floor is fine, but your equilibrium isn’t. We’re getting out of here.”

I pushed him away and struggled to my knees. “No! We have to recover the artifact. We have to finish this. For Marcella, for her father, to stop Evelyn. I’m fine. One wound in the field. Nothing I can’t survive.”

Dorian stared at me as if debating whether or not to let me make the call, then nodded. “You stay on the ground, you consult. You touch nothing. I’ll finish this.” He pulled me to my feet and propped me up, then helped me through to the westward door.

The third chamber, predictably, had another cube on a column. The room itself was larger than the other two and the walls were rounded, as were the floor and ceiling, making a sphere. A series of four holes were set in the floor and ceiling around the column in evenly spaced intervals. They did not correspond with the walls or the layout of the corridor.

Dorian pointed a stern finger at Marcella. “Stay with him. Neither of you are to move beyond this point.” He stepped into the sphere and started a slow circuit around the cube.

“I see a series of etchings on protruding stones around the center of the sphere,” he called out.

I couldn’t picture what he was seeing from the descriptions he called out to us so I looked to Marcella, but she shook her head.

“It’s impossible to guess from out here, Dorian. If you let me come in…”

“No, if something happens in here, we can’t both get taken out. Then nobody will be able to make it out alive. I’m going to test out each panel and see what they do, then get your take.”

A beam of reddish light flashed from the ceiling and floor, meeting in the middle and then spreading out laterally. It fluttered like a holo flag caught in a gentle breeze.

Dorian continued around the room, randomly turning panels on and off. A second light snapped on, then a third. The lights started to turn, propelled by something we couldn’t see. Then the sphere started to move, and the cube gave off a glow.

“Only a few more,” Dorian called out. A second later there was a shriek of metal and the rumble of rock, loud enough to cut through my fog. The light in the cube grew brighter than ambient, much brighter, and spilled out of the sphere-shaped room. It burned intensely and Marcella shielded my view, then pulled me stumbling out into the corridor.

After making sure I was okay, she darted back to, I assumed, look for Dorian.

Marcella reappeared almost ten agonizing minutes later, pulling Dorian with her. He held his arm out awkwardly and kept tripping over debris as he went. As the Constable drew nearer, I realized he couldn’t see and that his eyes were swollen and red from whatever had happened in the room.

Marcella guided him to the lift, then came back and helped me sit next to him. Then she was gone again.

“Son of a bitch!” Dorian said.

The man must have been in agony because he pushed his palms against them, pressing and blinking, pressing and blinking, then moving his head around wildly.

“Hold on, Dorian, let me look through the medkit.”

The light of the cube seemed to have temporarily blinded him. I couldn’t stand and my mentor couldn’t see. This mission had turned into a disaster.

I removed the pack from my back with some effort and began to rummage through it. I came up with bandages and some ointment gel for burns and hoped it was enough to give him some relief.

By the time Marcella reappeared holding a crude stone cylinder with markings along the side, Dorian had the gel slathered over his wounds and gauze wrapped around his head to cover his eyes.

“You got it,” I said weakly.

We were wounded, but the artifact had been successfully retrieved, so it would be worth it. Everything was going to be fine.

“I spotted it when I pulled Dorian out. I couldn’t just leave it there. Okay, don’t lean on the wall, we’re getting the hell out of here.” She helped us to the center, then prodded the etchings on the wall once more. The lift shifted and moved up smoothly. I had no idea what notes she played or what chord meant return to the start, but it looked like she had mastered the strange communications of this place.

The lift merged with the top level and we were alone in the simple corridor covered with red dust. Marcella locked hands with Dorian and levered him up, then did the same with me. I used the wall as a sort of crutch on my right while she stayed on my left. Since Dorian could walk, he held her arm and moved cautiously with one arm out in front of him.

I noticed the way Marcella hugged the artifact as we emerged out onto the platform. She was excited and happy, and despite my injuries, my heart swelled a little.

The moment lasted until we stepped out onto the platform and we realized it would be a challenge to get back up.

“Leon, we need help,” Marcella said over the comms.

He didn’t answer.

She looked at me, unsure what to do next.

“Maybe the interference in there trashed the comms,” I speculated. “You’re going to have to go up and get Leon. We’ll be okay for a few minutes.”

Now that the adrenaline of escaping had worn off, the pain and exhaustion set in and I leaned heavily against the platform. Dorian said nothing and I wondered if he feared the blindness would be permanent.

I wanted to say something to offer comfort but before I could, a makeshift harness came down. “Your ride is here. Leon sent a harness down,” I told Dorian, trying to make a joke, but he barely cracked a smile.

I helped him into it and made sure everything was secure for his trip up, then stood back a little. “All set!” I yelled.

The rope went taut and I could tell it startled the Constable because he jerked a little and pressed into the rock. After a few minutes, I thought I heard scuffling and someone talking but it sounded muffled. My ears were still ringing from the hit my head had taken and I couldn’t make out anything.

“I can’t hear you,” I called out. “I’m ready if you drop the harness again.”

The harness came down again and I struggled into it. “Okay, I’m in. Pull me up!” The line pulled tight and I lost my balance, almost hitting my injured leg against the wall. I used my good leg to push off and take some of the weight off Leon, who had to be tired from pulling Dorian up.

Finally, an exhausting five minutes later, I made it to the top. Strong hands pulled me over the ledge, and I lay there for a few seconds to catch my breath. Feeling a little better, I sat up and looked to see if Dorian had made it inside the MikroTrek yet.

It was gone.

In its place, a ship whose hull read Thorn’s Poesy sat with its thrusters primed and a large group of hard looking men. Sporting a wicked grin, Evelyn stood in the open hatch flanked by armed guards. She was wearing her thick red hair pinned along the top and heavy at the sides.

Dorian sat on the ground with his hands behind his back, looking around wildly. “Leon!” he shouted. “Need some help. Alphonse, what’s going on?”

Evelyn sauntered forward to stand in front of me, then curled her lip derisively. She raised her hand and guns were leveled at us from the ship and the rim above.

“Thanks for doing all the work, old friend. I have to admit, my plans never did go as smoothly without you.”

I bristled with anger but said nothing. I needed time to work out a plan.

She turned on her heel and walked up to Marcella. I surged to my feet when she slapped the other woman. Fighting through the pain, I moved a step forward, only to tumble to the side and fall back to the ground.

“Oh, Alphonse. This is just like the last time I spoke to you. Lying on the ground without a clue what’s happening,” Evelyn jeered. She backhanded Marcella again and tried to pry the artifact from her grasp.

Marcella held tight, screaming. “This belongs to my father! You can’t have it. This is his discovery! You can’t have it!”

Evelyn rolled her eyes and nodded at one of her men. “Take care of this,” she ordered.

Flanked by another merc, he moved to Marcella and jabbed her with a hypo injector. They caught her when she slumped forward, and Evelyn lifted the artifact from her limp hands before it fell. The two men dragged Marcella onto the ship and out of sight.

Dorian had his gun drawn and was gesturing left and right, trying to sense an opening. “Just tell me when I’m in the right direction, Al.”

This elicited laughter from Evelyn. You two think you were going to trap me? Me!? I’ve been playing you since the beginning. You’re not here to capture me. I’m here to use you. Just like last time.”

That last remark she directed at me.

“You manipulate and use people. You think it gives you control, but it just leaves you vulnerable and alone. Nobody you can trust. Nobody that you can rely on. You even used your own brother,” I spat. “How long until these men see through you?”

She kicked me in the gut. “Loyalty is a fiction, Alphonse. I thought you would’ve learned that by now. I should kill you, but then you won’t see what I’ve planned for you.”

She gestured and two of her men shackled me and Dorian together. I did my best to stay conscious, but the pain in my skull was intense, and the added blow to the gut had me struggling to breathe and keep my stomach from emptying without my permission.

“Put them under, I don’t want to take any chances,” she barked.

When the hatch closed and Thorn’s Poesy shot into the sky, I’d already started feeling the effects of the sedative. Evelyn’s ship burned thrusters, taking her, along with Marcella, out of sight. Then I couldn’t fight it any longer and the drug pulled me under.

19

I woke up to a slim, smart-dressed man standing at my bedside. He gave a slight nod at seeing me conscious. “Clothing is here.” He pointed to a pile of clothes on a side table. “Be dressed and ready for your meeting promptly.” Without another word, his duty apparently done, the man turned on a heel and was out the door.

Alone, I took stock of my situation and found I hadn’t been restrained in any way. The various monitoring equipment didn’t appear to be in use, but from the hospital like surroundings, I assumed they had been.

I got up, tested my leg, found it to be functional, then put on the simple combination of white shirt and black slacks and left the small room. No shoes had been provided, so I left the room with bare feet.

Outside, the same man waited with an air of eternal patience and constant anxiousness. Dorian emerged from the next door down, dressed as I was. The bandages were gone from his eyes and I could see they looked to be in much better shape than when we’d exited the vault. They were rimmed with red and he squinted a little as if the light bothered him, but he was walking on his own. The Constable stopped as the door closed and turned his head in my direction. “My coat.”

The smart-dressed man shifted his head ever so slightly, listening to his own earpiece. After a moment, he snapped his fingers then a doctor pulled Dorian’s coat from a wardrobe and handed it to him.

Dorian smirked. “Al, I think we’re about to have some pleasant surprises.”

I wasn’t about to make a guess where our luck was heading. “I’d prefer no more surprises. You mentioned a meeting? Please, lead the way.”

The smart-dressed man nodded airily. “Very good, sirs. Follow me.” Once again, he turned on a heel and quickly went through the door.

From the size and opulence of the building, I began to have a sneaking suspicion of who our meeting would be with.

We followed him to a lift and waited while he waved a hand over the panel and pushed a button. No guards accompanied us, and the lift opened a short distance later. It made sense that the hidden floors would be in proximity. Likely not even entire floors, just a section of the flooring that could only be accessed through the specific lift. Like the stealth hangar above, the floors hid in plain sight.

The lift opened and the unnamed escort was out the door before it even finished cycling. He led the way down a grand hallway with walls covered in art. The collection was impressive, stretching from ancient pieces to modern ones and including several installations of artifacts and “lost” technology.

Our guide waited patiently at the end of the hall and tapped rapidly on a datapad affixed to the side of a door. Once we had entered, the door slid silently closed behind us.

We were in a relatively small office. A man with tall, feathered hair and a boyish smile stood from his seat as we entered. He was young, not as young as me, but clearly only in his late twenties or early thirties. It was Velio. He looked exactly like the picture we had on file, if a little more refined.

He gestured us each to a seat by name. “Alphonse. Dorian.”

We sat, then Velio took his own seat in a large chair, twice the size of ours and positioned higher. He stared thoughtfully at us from across his black onyx desk, polished to a mirror shine and unadorned with any trinkets or devices.

I fixed him with a firm look, summoning an intensity into my voice. “Ferris Velio. Self-proclaimed entrepreneur and de facto leader of Celtan and Din. What can we do for you?”

He steepled his fingers together and let out a sigh. “She certainly didn’t speak highly enough of you. One of several reasons I’m turning to you for help.”

Dorian cut in. “Are you speaking of Evelyn or Marcella?”

The bite in his voice when he said Marcella’s name gave me pause and I glanced at him. Hostility showed unchecked across his features and I wondered if it was all directed at Evelyn.

Velio grinned. “Evelyn, of course. And don’t worry—your ship and your friend, the fighter, are safe, as planned.”

I looked to Dorian to fill me in.

“All part of the plan, kid. Compartmentalize so the operation can’t be completely broken down by a spy.”

The term “spy” hit me in the chest. “You mean Marcella?” I realized he hadn’t seen Marcella get dragged onto the ship and now thought her a traitor.

Velio leaned forward in his chair. “I’ve seen her before. Watched her work her way from one den of vice to another across this city. She’s good, but she’s certainly not someone’s long-lost daughter.” He paused and then laughed. “Actually, that’s probably exactly what she is, just not of the person you met.”

Dorian continued his explanation. “I was worried she was working you from the moment you saw her at The Prime Lady. And I was right. Everything that came after has been a ruse.”

I was about to protest when the scene with Lacroan came to mind. His emotionless reaction to seeing his long-lost daughter. Her overzealous one. The inconsistent story about her missing father and the wild goose chase. The puzzle pieces fell into place one by one and I realized what a fool I’d been.

“You’re right,” I finally agreed. “She’s clearly working for Evelyn, but you are both wrong about her past. She is Lacroan’s daughter. And he has a plan. I have a plan.”

Velio stood up and came around the desk, leaning into my face. “You are awfully certain of yourself for a kid showing his cards to an expert gambler.”

I met his gaze without hesitation. “I am certain. I know who you are. I know who you want to be. You fancy yourself a rogue hero out here. The bringer of civilization and civility to a wild land. Yet you profit by taking the work of others and selling them a company store. Your type has come and gone many times.”

Velio raised a hand and then lowered it. He gave a chuckle as he circled back to his seat. “You see it all, don’t you, boy? Did you see the part where Evelyn expects me to have you trussed up and used as target practice as a demonstration for the other buyers?”

I maintained my even gaze. “You started working with Evelyn because she brought in money. You hid her here, on the fringe of the Deadlands, because it worked for you. She probably thinks she has you manipulated and in her pocket. But she failed to see that you buy in to your own persona. You actually do, in your own way, believe you are helping these people.”

Dorian stood up. “We don’t have time for this. We have a deal. You keep Evelyn’s assets when we grab her. We take the neutronium and you pocket any credits on the line.”

Velio laughed again. “You think of me as a criminal informant, an asset that you will take in eventually. I’m not. I’m a government. I’m a planet. I’m a signature away from turning this world into a Union territory. A little watchtower on the very edge of Sarkonian space. You’ll play nice and I’ll get what I want.”

I stood up. “Everything in place for the buy?”

Velio nodded. “The room is prepped, and the gear is in place. I’ve locked down the hangar. As long as your part of the plan works, we’ve only got the one problem left to confront.”

Dorian shook his head, removing the visor and blinking in the burst of light. “You changing the deal?”

Velio held his hands up in a mock surrender. “No, no. The deal stands. Problem is, I don’t know which of my men are loyal to me and which have bought in to Evelyn’s charms. I can’t guarantee that when you walk into that room tomorrow you won’t be outnumbered.”

His gaze flicked to me, then back to Dorian. Velio tried for an apologetic expression but his lips twitched as though he wanted to smile. It wasn’t difficult to surmise what he wanted.

“Don’t play coy, Velio. Give me a one-way and bring them all in for a chat. I’ll have them sorted before nightfall.”

Velio stood up and whistled. He looked to Dorian and then back to me. “Are you really that good?”

I sighed and picked up my earpiece. “Yes, I am.”

20

It had been a hard road, this case. Out-working Evelyn was a trial by fire and beyond. She held many cards and trusted no one. This made getting to her difficult, but not impossible. The very strength she used—manipulating and surrounding herself with disposable shields—left her vulnerable to the unrelenting force of truth. She could only manipulate as long as the artifice maintained.

I was going to put an end to her schemes and ensure she paid dearly for her actions. For Remi, for Winston, for the principles of truth.

Dorian saw my stern expression as I pumped myself up. “It’s going to work, Malloy. You put it all in place. Trust your instincts, your training, and your allies.”

I nodded. “That last part is key, isn’t it?”

We were, after all, strapped to targets at the end of a line. Tables were arranged in front of us for the buyers and a stage was set at the far end, away from us. We were to be the final demonstration of Evelyn’s power diffusion device.

The room was illuminated with low lighting that cast long shadows and added a certain ethereal feel to our final preparation before the big event. Soon the equipment would be loaded onto the stage and Velio’s men would bring in the buyers. It was a shame I didn’t get to see Evelyn’s face when Velio brought her the list of men he would recommend as the demonstrators and which ones would be the guards.

I had selected the personnel for each list, placing those loyal to Velio as buyer security and those in Evelyn’s pocket as the demonstrators.

The stage lights kicked on and technicians started bringing in the archaic mess of equipment that Evelyn would use to show past failures to power artifact weapons. The neutronium, inside the diffusion pod itself, would come in later. Evelyn wouldn’t trust anyone to keep her ultimate prize out of her sight.

Even now, as the final stages were underway for our demise, Leon, along with Velio’s majordomo, whose name I’d finally learned was Wridel, were securing the hostages Evelyn had stashed for leverage.

Workers with downcast eyes came in next. They set the tables with food and drinks to further loosen up the buyers and give the impression of an upscale black-market deal. They walked slowly, refusing to look toward me and Dorian. Their presence reminded me that Velio was not a good man, despite his posturing. I looked to Dorian for some acknowledgement of the fact.

He nodded, but it was hard to read his expression now that he had bandages across his face. He had to maintain the illusion of being blinded to keep that leverage on our side. I felt the trickle of fake blood from my ear from the head fracture that, as far as Evelyn was concerned, had me disoriented and non-threatening.

Being a Constable meant working from the shadows and making compromises that would not survive in the light. It was a maxim I believed to be true a week ago when this started, a guiding principle that the Constables functioned on. It was an ideology that Shaw embodied perfectly and had disseminated down. It allowed people like Dorian to accept the work they didn’t like for the results they did.

In my mind, it intertwined too closely with Velio’s own mentality that the wild instincts of free men had to be shackled for their own good. I was going to prove otherwise.

The tables were set. The stage was ready. Security entered and took up position. Curtains were drawn around me and Dorian, a shiny reveal for after things got started.

I couldn’t see what was happening out there from here, but I had a pretty good idea what was going on based on the sounds. The house lights came on and the buyers were escorted in, one group at a time.

I recognized them all from the warehouse, though the pirate brothers were not among them. Dawn Nay arrived alone and had a more professional quality to her. She was positioned at the far table on my side, just outside my curtain. Ilsten and Laurina were brought in next. They were placed next to the stage, abuzz with questions and observations about the technology they were seeing. The security guard left, saying, “I don’t know, ask the tech!”

The arms dealers Xevia and Zephia came next. They were seated across from the Narugg brothers and the exchange between the two resulted in a cry for silence from Dawn May. “Get drunk and disorderly after the sale. And then go find a room to work it out or to kill each other. I don’t care which, I just want you to be quiet.”

This left the smuggler, Arturo Hyak, as the final buyer to enter. He was seated on Dorian’s side near the stage. His presence was obvious from process of elimination, but he also took a moment to speak out about Dorian’s absence. “Empty table at the back there, don’t see Dorian and his ward.”

It was a good setup, one that I knew Evelyn would plan on. She made her entrance voice first. “An excellent question, Mr. Hyak. You see, they got here early. They had a little private tour as my special guests. Sadly, they won’t be bidding against you for my goods today. They have, however, offered to help me in raising the value of my offering in other ways.”

The curtains pulled. A mixture of laughter, concern, hate, and awe erupted from the other buyers. To her credit, Dawn tried to stand up in protest and Arturo had to be grabbed and restrained by two of Velio’s loyalists.

Evelyn was on the stage now, wrapped in a shimmering reflecting shield—one of the artifacts she had managed to activate, I guessed. Very impressive. The barrier gave her an unearned golden aura. She’d dressed for the occasion in a black dress and red stiletto heels. Her hair was pinned back, giving her a stark, imposing quality. Her blue eyes locked on me, her domineering smile a reflection of her self-assured victory.

She waved her hands for attention. “Now, now. Before anyone gets any ideas, know that these two are not fellow buyers, as you might think. They are, in fact, snakes in our midst, sent here to bring the Union’s justice to our doorstep and ruin us all.”

The crowd grew silent. Security let Arturo go, and he sat down, fixing Dorian with a worrying scowl. Dawn gave a more compassionate look, a hint of a smile that she hid behind her hands before she turned her attention back to Evelyn.

Evelyn continued her grandstanding presentation. “To make up, in some small part, for their deception, they have volunteered to be the final demonstration. A demonstration that will begin after you place your starting bids on the consoles in front of you.”

She delivered her final line as Marcella appeared on the stage. She was wearing a new white coat and appeared very much like she did when I first met her. The same combination of coat, boots, necklace, and eyes that Evelyn had been wearing when I first met her. Even her hair was the same color red. I let a look of shock and horror spread across my face.

Evelyn’s smile widened as she watched me. “Oh, you get it now, huh, clever boy? If only you had seen through the play when she first appeared, maybe this wouldn’t be happening to you. Honestly, I thought I taught you better.” She turned to Marcella, breaking her gaze with me for the first time since the curtain had been pulled. “Bring it in, dear.”

Marcella walked behind the stage and came back alongside a shackled Lacroan. He pushed the diffusion pod into the room as Marcella manipulated the neutronium storage container I had last seen on Meridian a year ago.

Lacroan did not so much as glance at me or Dorian. He put up a containment shield and started moving the neutronium into the pod.

As he worked, Evelyn explained her offering to the assembled crowd. “It has long been believed that nothing could bring life to the ancient artifacts we find throughout the galaxy. Union scientists hoard them but have failed time and again to find a method to bring even the slightest power to these devices. Today, for a price, you can buy a fragment of the truth.”

Lacroan finished loading the neutronium into the pod. He secured the hatch and then pressed several etchings along the surface of the device. They glowed with a brilliant light that looked impressive but was wholly different from the warm, inviting glow of the devices I had seen inside the vault.

Evelyn pointed to a door and the eight men I knew to be loyal to her marched in. Each held an inert artifact. They didn’t look like much. One appeared to be the size of a datapad and the other a sphere that would easily fit into a child’s hands.

Evelyn looked at a readout from a console placed to her left and shot me a twisted smile that was anything but friendly, then gave her attention to the group once more. “From the numbers I’m seeing in these bids, you seem unimpressed. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

The men marched up to the stage and placed one device each in front of me and Dorian, then nodded at their leader.

She held up her hand, preparing to give the order.

Behind her, Lacroan pressed another etching and the energy from the pod shifted up a notch. A hum became audible throughout the chamber.

“Now,” she said. “One more round of bids. Come now, don’t make me take this offer to more deserving clients.”

Again, the buyers typed on the consoles in the table and Evelyn watched the numbers on her own display. She shook her head and frowned. “Clearly, you lot have no faith. I can’t really say I’m surprised. If it were me, I wouldn’t want to pay for a promise not delivered upon. If it is proof you will pay for, then proof you shall have.”

She pointed to the shooter next to the engineers. “When you’re ready.”

Lacroan touched something on the pod and a glow ignited on the weapon in front of me. It hummed with the same pitch and tone as the pod itself. The shooter held the gun at arm’s length, a mixture of excitement and fear crossing his face as the light cast strange shadows upon him.

Finally, the moment of truth came. Evelyn paced along the edge of the stage, safely behind her energy shield. She took a final look at the bidding display. “You have made some strong bids here today. One of you would be very happy to take this marvelous device home.” She gestured to the diffusion pod. “Looking at these bids, though, I wonder if it is worth it, to me, to let it go for one of these numbers when I could keep it and all the credits.”

This got a rise out of the crowd. They started booing Evelyn and shuffling in their seats. It was clear they would have attacked her if they could.

Evelyn gave a shrill laugh. “Don’t try anything. I would hate for one of my men to kill so much money. Don’t think your lives are worth it? Perhaps you will be persuaded by the lives of others? Each of you has a loved one, someone you traveled to the planet with that has been missing for a few days. Did they send you some message about being at a resort or interested in an excursion? You’ve been obsessed with finishing the buy and haven’t cared? Well, know that if you don’t complete these transactions you will never see them alive again.”

The crowd was furious.

Evelyn took a step back toward the pod. “I’m not a cruel woman. I’ll give you each a moment to figure out how much life is worth. I’m not even asking you to bid more. Not that ‘bid’ is the right word now. Just pay up what you’ve offered, and everybody goes home.”

She spread her arms wide and then pointed toward me and Dorian. “Everyone but those two, in case you think maybe your body armor will protect you or you can survive a firefight.” She gave a dramatic pause, savoring the moment before she ordered my execution. “I had hoped you would learn that we could be so much better together, Alphonse. But you simply lack foresight.” She dropped her hand. “Do it, Lacroan.”

The older Constable nodded and input a series of commands.

Nothing happened.

Evelyn turned to him, confusion on her face.

Lacroan smiled. “It’s over, Evelyn.”

She walked, furious, to the older man and tried to slap him.

The frail, cowed pawn he’d been pretending to be dropped away and he snagged her wrist before the blow could land. The Constable had returned.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked.

He smiled genially down at her. “I’m ecstatic to tell you that it is, in fact, you who lacks foresight.”

Velio, content to have watched the proceedings from behind a window above, switched on a light. “Men. Do what needs to be done.”

The other guards attempted to fire before the loyalists could, but they were met only with clicks and inaction. Their firing pins had been removed previously, and now they were powerless to fight back. The loyalists mowed them down in seconds.

When it was over, Velio spoke again. “Buyers, your associates are fine. My people saw them all safely released. You will find them in the hallway outside.”

Evelyn watched the proceedings unfolding with an unbridled rage. She fought for words, but the only thing that came out was a wail.

I took that as my cue and stepped down from the target, slipping from the “bonds” that had held me. Dorian removed the unnecessary bandages from his face, stretched his shoulder, and pulled his gun. “About time I got to do this.”

I took a step forward. “It’s over, Evelyn. You have no allies here. With the stunt you just pulled, no criminal in the galaxy will trust you to start another scheme.”

Evelyn twisted away from Lacroan and managed to break his grip, then pulled a small pistol from the inside of her coat. “I have more than you think,” she sneered.

She waved the gun at Marcella, who stood nearby still taking everything in. “Take the containment chamber, move. We’re leaving.”

21

Dorian and I charged through the corridor with as much speed as we could risk. The spectacle in the ballroom had deprived Evelyn of many of the loyalists she had among Velio’s men, but not all. She undoubtedly had more mercs from other systems that traveled with her on Thorn’s Poesy.

“Speak of the devils.”

A merc blocked the hallway in front of me and opened fire as we turned the corner.

I dived through a door across the hallway while Dorian took another. Velio had provided a full layout of the Black Orchid when we put the plan together. I knew Evelyn’s evacuation route and all the alternatives.

I motioned to Dorian what I planned to do, then passed through a maintenance room into a crawlspace that ran along several adjacent rooms. Three rooms down, I pushed through an access panel into a janitorial closet. I exited in time to see Dorian striding past the downed loyalist. He smirked. “About time you showed up.”

We continued down the hallway and to a lift. Dorian pulled a small device from his coat and attached it to the lift doors. It sent a shock of energy through the box, sealing the doorway.

With that, we entered a nearby flight of stairs.

Dorian took point as we snaked our way around the stairs landing by landing. “How many do you think she wasted on the lift?”

I did some calculations. “She only has six men at her disposal. Seven, counting the pilot. One in the hallway and two on the ship. I doubt she left anyone in the lift. She would have simply dropped it the moment the doors cycled closed.”

Dorian pressed himself against the far wall as a hail of gunfire came from above. “That leaves as many as four in this deathtrap?”

I nodded. “More, if she hired extras for the day.”

My partner sent a few covering shots into the stairs above. “Odds on that?”

I shook my head. “No. She thought she had everything under control.”

He smiled. “I’m going to miss working with you after this, Malloy. You make my job easy.”

Another burst of fire hit our position, sending ricochets flying. When there was a brief pause, we made a break for the next landing.

“I should have grabbed a gun,” I complained, feeling useless.

Dorian fired from his new position. “It’s more of a crutch than anything. Stick with what got you here.”

A body fell from the heights above, interrupting him and bouncing down the stairs, then it landed at our feet.

“Not that a crutch is always a bad thing,” Dorian said with a smirk.

He broke cover and ran forward again. I followed, keeping myself against the wall as best I could.

* * *

Three bodies later and we emerged onto the Black Orchid’s enclosed roof hangar. Velio’s supplied blueprints and schematics showed it to be a dome split open at the top to allow entry and exit. Thorn’s Poesy was the only ship there and the hangar was closed. I didn’t even see any of the maintenance staff that should have been working.

Evelyn stood on the hatch of the Thorn, barking orders to her two remaining mercs while the ship’s weapons powered up. She didn’t appear to have noticed our arrival, which worked to our advantage.

We split up. Dorian charged to the far side of the room, while I made my way silently along the near wall. The mercs took up firing positions behind crates at the rear of the ship. Evelyn headed inside, pulling Marcella and the containment unit along with her.

Dorian made a break from one set of crates to the next.

I watched carefully, trying to identify markings on any of the crates and cargo containers that littered the hangar space. “Careful out there, old man,” I said. “No telling what’s in any of those crates. Don’t need you using explosives for cover.”

He poked his head around to spot the enemy and quickly retreated as gunfire ripped through the space where his head had just been. “Do you think they know to take that advice?”

I looked toward where the shots had come from. “I doubt that Evelyn has much concern for her men.”

“Good point, Al. Mind getting me some breathing room?”

I ran from cover, intentionally knocking over a canister. It worked and got the mercenaries’ attention. With their fire trailing me, I dove behind cover just ahead of a spray of munitions.

Dorian had his window. A few well-placed shots ruptured the hydrogen tanks near where the mercenaries had taken cover.

There wasn’t so much an explosion as a sudden fireball that engulfed the area and scorched the hangar floor, the force of which hit the men like a truck.

Evelyn, who had been watching from the open cargo bay hatch, screamed in frustration, before stomping up the ramp and disappearing into the ship. The ramp began to lift, and I started running.

“I’m not letting her get away this time!” I barked over my shoulder.

Dorian was next to me a second later and we reached the ship at the same time. We leapt and caught the edge of the closing hatch, then dragged ourselves up and over. Dorian and I caught eyes in unspoken affirmation, and we exited the airlock into the ship’s cargo hold.

An almost manic laugh came from a few meters away.

Evelyn was standing with Marcella in front of her as a human shield. She held her gun to the back of Marcella’s head. In between us was the mobile containment unit for the neutronium.

“It’s over, Evelyn,” I said calmly. “It’s time to pay for what you’ve done. The people you’ve hurt demand justice.”

“I only do what I have to,” she sneered.

“Maybe we should ask Remi. Or Winston. The brother you let die after sending him to kill me.”

That earned me a scathing look. “I didn’t kill either of them. The Union did. The whole universe has always been stacked against me. I’m just trying to live, same as anyone.”

“What about all this?” I continued, spreading my arms to indicate the artifacts and neutronium. “You took hostages to serve your own greed.”

“Like you can talk. I came from nothing and had to claw my way to where I am. Nobody ever gave me anything. But you,” she hissed, “you had everything. Credits, fancy education, and a godsgiven talent that would have made you rich in any life you chose. And what did you do with it? You came to me, looking for a thrill. Who’s really the criminal here, Alphonse?”

Dorian leveled his gun at Evelyn. “Alright, that’s enough talk. Let the girl go and drop the weapon. You have a long prison stay to look forward to. Don’t give me a reason to cut your sentence short.”

Evelyn scoffed. “I’ll call your bluff, Tribal. You won’t risk the girl. She means too much to your partner here.”

Dorian shook his head and smiled. “That’s where you’re wrong, Evelyn. We’re Constables, which means duty above everything. Unfortunate as her death may be, her life isn’t worth the damage you’ll create if we let you go.”

I lowered my hands. “Put the gun down, Dorian.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the pair, letting my words linger before answering, letting the pause hang between us. “You’re sure about that?”

“If we sacrifice Marcella to stop Evelyn, how have we done anything to serve justice? We’ve just proven we will do what we want to get what we want, and Marcella will have been another victim. There has to be a principle, a line somewhere. You can fail me for the mission. I’ll understand. But I didn’t accept Shaw’s offer just so I could get out of prison. I accepted it to make a change. To make a difference.”

Dorian lowered his weapon and smirked. “Well now, you’re full of surprises, my young friend. Very well. It’s your operation, Alphonse. Do what you think is right.”

I looked at Marcella. “Evelyn isn’t going anywhere. She’s burned all her bridges to make this deal and it went nowhere. She’ll answer for all the lives she’s destroyed. All the people she’s used and tossed aside.”

Evelyn pointed the gun at me. “Oh, Alphonse. If only you could hear how stupid you sound. Marcella understood what you never could. That winning is about knowing that the uncompromising always lose.”

Marcella stepped to the left of Evelyn and gave me a somber look. Her eyes fell to the floor. “I’m sorry, Alphonse. I was sent to mislead you, to get you to Lacroan so we could get into the vault and retrieve the artifact.”

I shook my head. “Constable Lacroan was never working for you. He used your greed to bring us in. He didn’t need the artifact to make the pod work. The pod never worked. He just needed an excuse to set you up.”

“I had constant surveillance on him,” Evelyn snapped. “He never did anything but experiment with the weapons and study the artifacts I collected.”

“No, all he did was add high-energy diffusion chambers to the devices. If you knew anything about engineering, you could have seen through it. You only know how to use people. I know how to see people for who they are. That’s the difference between us.”

I looked at Marcella. “And I think the people who have worked with you long enough know that difference is important.”

Marcella looked at me for a long moment, then nodded almost imperceptibly before making a grab for her boss’s gun. Evelyn reflexively fired, sending a bullet ricocheting through the cargo hold. Then a second and a third. Marcella continued to fight wildly and slammed Evelyn’s arm against the bulkhead until the gun flew from her hand and hit the deck.

Dorian retrieved his firearm, diving to the far right to get a shot at Evelyn. Evelyn threw Marcella to her left and fell back into a containment chamber.

I rushed forward, but Evelyn had already sealed herself inside.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable, Evelyn,” I said through the intercom. “We’ll fly you to a port and pry you out.”

Dorian flanked me, looking through the small porthole at the trapped and furious woman.

She pressed the intercom and held up a device. “Wrong. I’ll fly myself wherever I need to go once you die.” She pressed a button on the device.

I turned to see the neutronium containment unit cycling open. I only had a split second to react, so I grabbed Dorian and shoved him into an adjacent containment chamber.

The neutronium discharged just as the chamber door slid home. The cargo hold was bathed in the pale blue glow of Cherenkov radiation.

I went to the door and looked out. Marcella was struggling to stand on the far side of the room. “Marcella!” I screamed, pounding the window to get her attention.

She heard me and stumbled to the containment door. “Can I turn it off?” she wheezed through chapped and blistered lips.

“You can.” I nodded. “There’s an input on the control panel. All it needs is the sequence.”

She lurched forward and almost fell onto the open chamber. I recited the numbers her father had given me before I left him in his office.

My heart ached as Marcella’s fingers shook violently as she tried to type the code.

The containment chamber began to close, letting me know she’d been successful. A hiss sounded and radiation neutralizers coated the room in a fine foam. “You’ve done it!” I shouted.

Unable to stand anymore, Marcella sank to the floor, water all over her skin, and she slowly crawled to the doorway.

I opened the door before the containment chamber gave the all clear and knelt next to her as she struggled to stay conscious. Dorian ran past me to the bridge in search of the pilot who’d also received a likely lethal blast.

“I’m sorry...Alphonse. Will you...tell my father—” A fit of coughing stole her next words and I stroked her hair.

“I’ll tell him, Marcella, I promise.” I said, trying not to look panicked by what I was seeing. “You saved a lot of people. You know that, don’t you?”

“Least… I could do…” Her breathing was shallow, and she struggled to speak now. She pulled the shield pendant from her neck with a shaky hand and placed it in mine. “I’m sorry...I...”

Marcella smiled one last time as her eyes grew still and vacant. I felt my throat tense as I stared at her, hoping somehow that she would move again, hoping that I was imagining this.

“Marcella…” I whispered, hardly a thought in my head for the first time in my life.

After another moment, I swallowed and closed my eyes for only a second, and then I stood, the necklace in my hand, and looked directly at Evelyn.

“My gods,” said the woman, and I saw what appeared to be regret in her eyes for the first and final time.

22

I was back on Alara.

Shaw’s office seemed like a distant memory, though I had been in it only weeks before. So much had changed in me that it made everything I saw outside seem new.

The ever proper and enigmatic Shaw stood behind his desk with a broad smile. “It is my great honor to see you in this office today, Tiro Malloy.”

Behind me, Dorian and Lacroan stood dressed in formal uniforms.

I nodded. “The job is done. Evelyn is where she belongs, rotting on an unnamed rock with no outside contact.”

Shaw coughed, or maybe it was a laugh. “Well done. How do you feel now, with that bit of the past behind you?” He turned his back to me and walked to the window.

I could still see his face in the reflection of the window. His motions were less a power move and more about concealing whatever wistful feelings he had for such summations.

“I don’t know. The job is done. We took a dangerous criminal down. We retrieved most of the neutronium. People were hurt and some lost their lives along the way. I may have corrected the mistake I made a year ago, but I didn’t do it before there were consequences.”

Shaw turned back to me and nodded. “That is the game we play here. A long game of consequences, and nobody has all the pieces. We may yet see more unfold from these events in the years to come.”

“As you say, sir,” I agreed.

He walked back around the desk and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Alphonse, you’ve learned something, I think, from all of this, but it bears repeating now. Lives come and go, power comes and goes. Hell, planets come and go. We’ll never be able to save them all. We’ll never be able to solve every case.”

“Then, what do we do?” I asked.

He paused, taking a slow breath and placing a hand on my shoulder. “We save as many as we can.”

I nodded. “I shall continue to work on my training and further my experience.”

“Training?” asked Shaw, raising his brow. He directed his attention to Dorian and Lacroan, who stood a few meters away from us. “You two, what was your assessment of Tiro Malloy?”

Dorian stepped forward. “He did an outstanding job. No other Tiro has been tasked with such a difficult first mission. He rose to the occasion and learned quickly, operated independently, and composed himself with dignity in the field and with everyone he encountered. He treated each situation with a respect that kept him above reproach.”

Lacroan gave a curt nod. “Tiro Malloy saw the gears in motion without disrupting their operation. His light touch will serve him well in the future. The Constables are lucky to have him.”

Shaw turned his attention back to me. “With those recommendations from your mentor and peer, and having completed your final exam, I am pleased to say you have qualified to become a full-fledged Constable.”

He stood at attention and saluted, which I returned.

“Constables strive to operate unseen,” he continued. “As such, no physical recognizance will be given to you. From this point forward, you will receive no official Union rank or title or commendations. The majority of the government won’t even know your name, and should you be captured by the enemy, the Union will disavow all knowledge of your affiliation.” He paused. “Knowing all of this, do you accept?”

I didn’t hesitate. “I do, sir.”

Shaw smiled. “Then let me be the first to welcome you into the fold, my young friend,” he said, grasping my hand in his. “Constable Alphonse Malloy.”

Epilogue

I stared out a viewport at a passing nebula. The colors were beautiful and provided a breathtaking view. After five years as a Constable, even after all the places I’d been and all the systems and stars I’d seen, sights like this still took my breath away. The awe of the cosmos never failed to fascinate me, looking through the stardust that would someday be new worlds, stars, and people.

I considered my reflection. It sent my thoughts back to my graduation and the look that Shaw had in that moment. Maybe he hadn’t been hiding his face from me, maybe he’d simply enjoyed his own internal landscape reflected in the darkness beyond the window. In any case, he’d vacated his post at the Red Tower some time ago. He was an Admiral now, in control of a large fleet, last I had heard.

Thoughts for another time.

I stood on the promenade deck of Doden station. Music streamed from a rare set of live musicians on a stage ten meters behind me. It was both somber and raucous, depending on how you saw such things.

A party was in full swing. Dancers danced. Drinkers downed snifters of colorful liquid. The who’s who mingled and talked and created moments that they would try to deny or relive.

I made my way through the crowd. A quick word here, a feigned smile there, and at last my eyes set on my target, the party host himself.

Horace Girballon.

He was the CEO of a ship-contracting company, overseeing the construction of warships and transports alike. The celebration was his way of giving back to those that had helped him land a recent top-credit deal with the Union’s second fleet.

The man was surrounded by well-wishers. The power shuffle at this tier of the game was something to behold.

I sidled in next to him and then moved to catch his attention as one such influencer finished their thinly veiled congratulatory threats. I offered a hand and he shook it reflexively, even as he struggled to place my face.

I refused to let go of his hand and swept my arm around him. “Mr. Girballon. Pleasure to finally meet you face to face. Long-time supporter.”

He pushed back into my arm, but I kept him motivated with a twist of his still trapped hand.

“What is going on here!?” The man’s eyes went just a fraction wider than they had been a minute ago.

I flashed him a broad smile and winked at the bartender. “I’m a business associate, Mr. Girballon. Just here to make sure you get a well-deserved drink.”

He caught the bartender’s eye and tried to not stare at her revealing clothing. They had a history, something in the way of promises made in an office one night and ignored the next. Perhaps useful for later, but I had an agenda.

“Two highballs, please,” I said to the bartender.

Girballon pulled his hand from my grasp and I let him settle into a lean against the bar. “And aside from a drink and the reminder of an unpleasant evening, what can I do for you?”

I smiled, keeping my gaze forward and the man close. “I’m actually here to save your life. There are three assassins in this room who have been paid to kill you. Keep smiling. Good man. Apparently, you did some dirty things to land this latest contract and some people want payback.”

He was already sweating and the color drained from his face.

“See, this is why you need a drink. Cool down and relax,” I said in a friendly tone.

The bartender returned carrying two glasses of a sweetly scented liqueur with bits of fruit floating in them.

“This looks refreshing. Drink yours, fast,” I told him.

He obeyed, then I nodded to the bartender and slapped a large tip on the bar. “If you’ll give us just a minute.”

She smiled at the tip, glared at Girballon, and left the bar.

I turned the rotund man around. “If you look out there, you will see a man behind the cello, yes? He has a silenced weapon cleverly concealed in the bow of the instrument. It will fire a poison dart and you will never see the morning.”

He swallowed.

I motioned to the left to a female staff member trying to move two overly eager dancers away from the crowd. “That woman is an expert martial artist. She knows a dozen ways to pinch you and stop blood flow. The moment she gets near you, you get to feel a nice intense pressure and then have a sudden heart attack.” Her real name was Margaret Duchalles, another Constable like myself, but truly a combat specialist.

His eyes darted around the room, panic setting in.

I turned to the center. “And that man there, the one with the glass eye and the sour expression? He isn’t being paid to kill you. He’s part of a radical front that intends to use your death as a statement for his splinter organization.”

Girballon’s eyes were wide with fear. He was sipping his drink in a panic.

I chuckled and pulled the glass from his lips. “Don’t get too worked up. Don’t want you choking and doing their jobs for them.”

I put the glass on the bar and signaled to the bartender again. The signal wasn’t just for her benefit.

The martial artist bumped into the man with a glass eye, spinning him slightly to the side. As he moved into position, the bass player fired his dart. The man slumped and Margaret pulled him aside. “Oh my, sir, looks like you need some space,” she told him, and proceeded to carry the man into the back room for questioning.

I patted Girballon on the back. “Don’t drink too much. And remember, we’re watching you. From now on, you’ll run a legitimate enterprise, understood?”

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, then hastily sat the half-full drink on the bar top.

I walked toward the rear exit, following Margaret. I had an assassin to question before the day was through.

There was a notification on my pad, and I paused at the sound of it. I pulled the device out as I passed through the door to the kitchen staging area. The man with the glass eye was breathing heavily and his arm was blackened from blood necrosis. The message was from Shaw.

“Are you coming?” asked Margaret, looking up at me with the man’s arm around her neck.

“Give me a moment,” I told her.

She nodded and continued to the back.

I swiped my finger across the pad, initiating the retinal scan and unlocking the message. It was a response to a previous inquiry I had placed, based on something I hoped would serve as my next assignment.

RE: The Nun and the Albino Girl

* * *

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Warrior Queen

1

The weather was wild and harsh for the first three days of our hunt, the cold winds and heavy snow beating us back and slowing our work. It wasn’t until the fourth day that our luck finally turned around and the sun came out. Its light reflected off the eternally white expanse, and I had to shield my eyes against the glare as I scanned the valley before me.

It was beautiful, the blanket of snow that covered the world, resting below a wide and open cerulean sky, but as my father had told me once when I’d mentioned such a sight, beauty didn’t bring home supplies.

The landscape lay still and quiet in all directions, clear all the way to the distant mountains where one of the ancient facilities still stood, its broken towers and shattered doors hanging open for all who would come and see. I had only been there once, years ago when I was fifteen and my father insisted it was time I learned to travel. He had taught me how to hunt before, but never so far away from home where the danger was alive and hungry in the vast tundra.

I wiped my nose, sniffling in the cold air as my breath formed in front of me. Without the background of cutting wind and falling snow to conceal our movements, the four of us were forced to communicate using hand signals and hushed whispers. The last thing any of us wanted to do was spook the herd.

Cyril Visaro, the Director and leader of our colony, commanded the small hunting party. He was a tall man with wide shoulders and dark eyes.

He also happened to be my father.

We called our prey frost horns, named for the protrusions that grew out of their large skulls. They were crystalline horns, hard as stone and made of frozen water around a thin scaffolding core of hair. Our historian, Janus, said the Eternal scientists who’d settled here almost two thousand years ago had not considered them important enough to warrant naming, but we did.

The horn could break through thin layers of ice to find stores of water, score branches for out of reach lichen clumps, or spear an attacking wolf. These large animals weren’t known to be overly aggressive, but they would certainly protect themselves, especially in groups.

Most of what I wore now had come from one of the giant creatures. The white fur helped us to blend in with the snowy terrain and almost matched my hair perfectly. This was a convenience for those like me who didn’t care for bulky hoods that tended to get in the way.

I wondered if the scientists would have felt differently if they could see how integral the frost horns were to our survival. Indeed, the animals provided much needed oil, pelts, and bones that we used for crafting utensils and tools.

From the size of the tracks, I estimated the animal ahead to be an adolescent. It was of no consequence. Even a smaller frost horn could yield a worthwhile amount of resources, and any animal was more practice for me to hone my skills as a hunter.

A light crunch sounded behind me and I turned to see my father approaching. I might not have recognized him under his face shield and all the layers of clothing, but his weapon was unmistakable.

He’d scavenged the rifle as a boy of seventeen, the same age as me now, and modified it with a fusion core for his Selection Ceremony project, as was customary for those in the running to be chosen as the next leader.

When the Primes picked me as prospus--a term that meant a candidate or prospect--a few months ago, I’d almost done the same but had decided to work on something more unique instead. With Selection just around the corner, I was nearly finished.

“Stay alert, Lucia,” he warned, pulling me from thoughts of the Prime Regency, whispering so his voice wouldn’t carry. “We aren’t the only ones hunting today.”

I whipped my gaze back to the valley, annoyed I had missed something, but it still looked empty. My father shook his head and pointed to his ear.

The other two hunters in our group had stopped and we all listened intently. My trainer, Alma, was the first to react. She gestured at the frost horn tracks, then indicated ahead and to the right.

Nero and I followed the prints down the base of the valley until they disappeared around a large outcropping of rock.

That was when I heard the clicking.

Only one thing on this planet made that noise. Boneclaws.

I could tell that Nero heard it too, because his form went stiff and his weapon jerked up a hair. It was a practical response. Boneclaws were savage monsters and even larger than the frost horns. Three lethal claws adorned the end of each thickly muscled arm that could strike with astounding speed and rip through flesh with little effort.

It had likely scented our game. With the calf separated from the herd, it would make for an easy meal. We didn’t have enough supplies to stay on the hunt much longer, and if we lost the calf we’d return home with nothing.

Despite that, a little thrill of excitement swirled through me. I’d seen Boneclaws before, but only from a distance. Unless they were dead. This would mark the first time I participated in a kill, and if it went well, there would be lots of praise and congratulations from the people at home.

My father stepped forward and motioned for us to follow. We moved slowly, careful of our steps. Boneclaws were blind but had excellent hearing. To have the best chance at killing it, and saving our catch, we’d need the advantage.

Not long after, the clicking had become more of a wet grinding sound and my father held up a gloved fist to stop us. He pointed to his chest then waved a hand at the rock to say he would check it out first.

I tapped my own chest urgently, showing I wanted to go with him, but he shook his head and held up a hand. As much as I wanted to argue, this wasn’t the place, so I nodded curtly.

Seemingly satisfied that I would stay put, my father eased around the rock and disappeared from view.

I couldn’t help but be annoyed at being left behind, but I put it aside and focused on scoping out our surroundings for more threats.

Alma had a set of farfinders out and looked to the east. She and my father had already commented that the herd had been farther out than usual and we’d been lucky to get this straggler.

I checked the west for any sign of movement. If there was one Boneclaw, more were probably in the vicinity. Wind gusted by, its howl reminding me of a wolf baying.

Movement to my left caught my attention. Nero was crouched down digging in the snow, a concentrated expression on his face.

“Wolf scat,” he announced, then stood to study the icy landscape.

Maybe the howling hadn’t been the wind after all. I listened, this time turning my ear to the direction the wind had come from. I heard the sound again, but it was far from our current location.

Nero and I nodded at each other, acknowledging the information at the same time. A single snowfly buzzed in my face and I waved it away.

My father returned then, motioning us in close, and we huddled together in a tight circle.

“One Boneclaw. It’s eating the calf and distracted. Let’s go,” he ordered.

Each of us unsheathed our blades now rather than later, here where we could be quiet, masking our sound in the wind.  We left the relative safety of the outcropping and rounded the rock shoulder behind my father. Alma was directly behind him, and I took the middle with Nero at the rear.

It didn’t take long to see what had taken my father so long to return. Once out of view from our previous position, I found that the path continued a fair amount before curving around again to reveal a deep gorge.

The sounds from the Boneclaw grew louder as our group moved closer. It was the terrible sound of flesh being ripped from bone, gnashing teeth, and wet chewing, and it turned my stomach. I found that my desire to see the creature up close evaporated rather quickly, but there was no going back now. Steeling my resolve, I gripped my spear and pressed forward, unwilling to let myself be controlled by fear. “Fear and bravery are two faces that every warrior should learn to wear,” my father had often told me. “Fear pulls you back before the fight, and bravery tugs you toward it. Without bravery, there is only the coward; without fear, there is only the fool. True warriors know which face to wear and which to hide. Embracing them both is how you stay alive.”

My heart thudded in my chest, and I wondered if the beast would hear its pounding and attack, but the squelching went on, uninterrupted by our advance. The noise seemed to fill my ears now, and I knew it couldn’t be far.

Large boulders littered the snow-covered rock floor, and at first I didn’t see anything. It only took a moment to follow the tracks and the path that the frost horn had forged through the drifts in search of food. From the opposite direction we had come, another set of tracks disturbed the snow.

These were from the Boneclaw who had undoubtedly caught the scent of the young calf and given chase. It was all too clear where the pair had collided; the area was marked not just by deep grooves, but by the bright red of fresh blood stark against the white surroundings.

I was thankful to have missed the scene. Though I’d taken part in my share of hunts, we always dispatched our catches as quickly and humanely as possible. The Boneclaws were not known to have such tendencies.

A smaller pair of prints caught my eye, and I realized they were my father’s. It awed me that he had come so close, and alone. I vowed to be better, more like him.

The four of us crept closer, wary of the increasingly large steaming patches of blood, and edged our way around a large boulder. Based on the sounds coming from the other side, we would be face to face with our quarry in the next few seconds.

I held my breath as, at last, the Boneclaw’s monstrous form became visible. It was hunched over the fallen body of the frost horn, its face buried in the corpse. The smell of copper was heavy in the air and filled my mouth with a metallic taste. It did, however, block our scent, and for that, I was thankful.

Our group fanned out slowly to surround the beast at strategic positions, just as we’d practiced. Alma and I circled around until we were behind the Boneclaw, while Nero took a position on the side not protected by the boulder.

Alma’s weapon had been modified with a fusion core like my father’s, but hers was what she called a glaive. It looked like a staff but had a long blade at the end, glowing blue in her hands as it powered up and she prepared to attack.

Our leader stood a few meters from the animal, his eyes fixed on the enormous claws. He had moved the rifle to his back, as it would be too loud in this gorge and draw other Boneclaws to us, trading it for a spear instead. The blade wasn’t as long as Alma’s, but it was certainly sharper.

We were at a critical point. If the creature heard us now, not only would it attack but it would try to alert others to the area. Taking down one was difficult but possible. Two, much less so, though not completely unheard of. More than that, however, and we wouldn’t stand a chance.

Nero signaled to me and Alma that he was ready, and we nodded the same. He lifted an arm, then dropped it to start the attack.

The Boneclaw’s head jerked up as we moved in unison. I heard my father’s spear tip sing across the neck of the beast, and I brought my own weapon across the tendon on the back of its left leg. Alma mirrored the move on the right, spraying blood in all directions.

The animal reared and tried to take a step but fell immediately forward from the wounds we had inflicted. A strange gurgling sound followed as it began to choke, and the creature’s long arms came around as if to clutch at its neck.

Alma and I got out from behind the flailing animal in case it fell, and now I could see how well our tactics had worked. Nero’s attack had severed the right arm, leaving it a bloody mess. The appendage flopped uselessly to the side of our circle, rolling in the snow.

My father’s spear dripped with warm blood, creating condensation in the cold as the Boneclaw staggered from the wounds, its monstrous size still looming over us.

I launched the spear, praying that my aim would be true just as Nero flew by me, sword raised high. The spear found its mark, and the Boneclaw jerked as its arm was pinned to the torso, giving Nero time to reach my father and bring the blade down to cleave the arm in two, spattering blood on the white snow. The three-clawed hand fell to the ground and Nero moved forward to behead the Boneclaw, bringing his blade straight through the creature’s flesh in a hard, clean slice, finally putting it down for good.

My father was breathing heavily, steadying himself. “Let’s take care of this and get the hell out of here,” he said. “I’m letting the shuttle know we’re ready.”

Almost nothing from the frost horn was left, but the remains of the Boneclaw would suffice. It didn’t take long to dismember it and prep the harvested parts for transport. When they were ready, we placed them in tarps that would be attached to the underside of the ship.

The shine of new experience wore off and disenchantment set in as I took in the gore that now covered me from head to toe. Somehow only Nero and I had ruined our hunter’s garb. My father and Alma barely had a speck of blood between them.

They had a saying, one I’d never understood when I was younger but had grown all too familiar with in recent months.

The best hunters need only one set of fresh clothes.

* * *

When the transport arrived, we secured the load and climbed in, shedding our outer layers before sitting down in the beat-up chairs.

As the ramp closed, a faraway roar echoed through the cliffs, loud and close. We all knew that sound, and we knew what it brought.

I looked sharply to Alma. The older woman’s face was tense but devoid of fear. She had always been that way. Always so calm, as though nothing in the world could get to her.

I would never be that way, not when the sound of monsters made me squirm. I looked down at my hands, still trembling from the fight. There was fear still in me.

Alma leaned over and said something to my father, who nodded in response. “Get us out of here, Slates,” my father ordered, tapping the back of the pilot’s chair. “We don’t want to be here when the pack shows up.”

“Working on it,” Slates grunted, lifting the small ship into the air.

I stayed quiet, but a scan of the landscape gave me pause. Four more of the creatures were running toward the gorge.

The lines went taut when it came time for the load to leave the ground, and the vessel rocked hard as it was met with the resistance. I gripped the straps of my harness and pressed my feet into the floor to keep from tossing side-to-side.

Our vessel was old and well past its prime. Despite how well our ancestors had made these ships, time had gotten the better of them all, and each had begun to show signs of disrepair.

All the seats were worn, the padding sticking out from the ripped seams. None of the display screens were without cracks, nor did the engines run as smoothly as they once had. No matter how many fixes our engineers made, the ships always felt like they were on the edge of breaking down.

One day, my father would often tell me, these ancient machines would stop working completely. We would have to find a new way to hunt and bring our kills home.

But everyone else would say that this was a problem for later. There were too many things to worry about today, and we could only do so much.

For now, we worked with what we had available.

Not wanting to distract, I turned on the built-in display and brought up the external feed. The view was grainy, but I could see the cargo as it swayed gently below us. It was steady enough for now, but a hard and sudden gust of wind could always change that. The ship struggled with the weight of the Boneclaw, the landscape below getting smaller, meter by meter.

The engines screamed in protest, pushed to their limit in our effort to move higher, faster, and with too much weight. The creatures roared again, audible despite the engines, and their call echoed through the valley and into the gorge.

The cargo cleared the large boulder and scraped the top of it, sending vibrations up the lines and into my seat. At the same time, the group of Boneclaws broke into the gorge and galloped on all fours to our position.

They barreled toward us, close enough now that I could see them through the cockpit window. Then I lost sight of them and I had to use the feed again.

Upon reaching the body of their packmate, they stopped and sniffed the ground, finally rearing up to let loose a scream that sounded like a terrible mix of agony and rage.

The largest of the four climbed up the boulder, his eyes fixed on us, and it leapt into the air in a show of power, its claws outstretched and reaching for us.

It was in that moment that I caught sight of the creature’s face. One side of it bore a horrible scar from forehead to cheek, crossing two milk-white eyes without pupils. I felt the creature’s claws scratch the bottom of the cargo box, causing the entire ship to tremble, and I instinctively stiffened.

We were moving away, however, and climbing out of reach enough for me to let go of the breath I’d been holding.

“It… it had eyes,” I muttered, confused as to how that was possible. Boneclaws never had eyes. They used sound rather than sight.

Alma smirked. “Ah, yes. A defect that shows up occasionally. Like how Leif Tarcher has a third nipple. Completely useless.”

She settled back in her seat and closed her eyes as if this was no more exciting than plain oatmeal day.

I said nothing to her, choosing to accept what she told me as fact. Alma had always known more than most others. If she said something was true, then it probably was.

I wondered if the Boneclaws might try to follow us, but the more I watched them from the viewscreen, the more secure I grew. They didn’t move from their spot, staring out at us with their heads tilted, listening to us as we flew. After only a few moments, all four surrounded the dead remains still on the ground and leaned over it.

As one, the group reared up and released a sad, keening wail that left me shaken.

“Do they grieve?” I asked my father, perturbed by the idea.

He shrugged. “Even frost horns will leave the herd to find lost young and cry out if a member of the herd dies,” he told me. “It means nothing.”

My discomfort at that revelation must have showed on my face because his voice took on a stern tone.

“It’s nothing more than a primal instinct to survive, Lucia. Every loss weakens their numbers. They know that, but not on the conscious level that we do. Don’t make the mistake of humanizing them. Others have tried and to no good end.”

“Aren’t they made from humans?” I asked. “Doesn’t that mean that they’re more than simple animals? At least partially?”

“No. They’re experiments created by arrogant people who should have known better,” he countered. “Now, I will hear no more of this. Trust in my words. I have seen enough of them to know the truth of this.”

My mouth snapped shut at that, and I nodded tightly. Clearly done with the conversation, my father turned and began speaking to Alma.

I stayed silent for the rest of our short trip across the valley, but I couldn’t get the image of the mourning Boneclaws out of my mind.

2

As we neared the cliffs on the opposite side of the valley, the pilot pulled the transport up. Part of the wall slid back and out, creating a wide landing space and revealing the hangar inside. To anyone who might pass, if there had been someone else on the planet to see, it would have looked sheer, all the way to the top.

The Eternals, our ancestors, had done this on purpose, though it seemed odd to me. Janus, a holographic intelligence known as a Cognitive, had taught us many things about our ancestors, although his older memories were becoming less reliable in recent years.

Still, the Cognitive said that the scientists were operating here covertly in an attempt to hide their work from the public eye. The Eternal leaders were afraid that if the public discovered how severe the degeneration had become, panic might arise, and so this research outpost had been built. The scientists needn’t have worried, though. In the two thousand years since their arrival, no one else had ever come.

There were many theories about why this had occurred, but the most accepted was that the rest of humanity had likely watched our ancestors lose control over these facilities and opted to forget them. We had no evidence of this, of course, but it certainly made for a good story.

It didn’t take long for the rock to finish its transformation, and almost at once, a group of people came out with a large hover cart. They guided the cargo onto it, released the straps, then signaled Slates to retract the lines before going inside.

The hangar was huge, built to house more than ten times our current number of vehicles. I had seen holo pictures that showed what it looked like back then, all those centuries ago.

Neat rows of all-terrain hovercrafts, indoor explorers, and ships of varying sizes, all lined up neatly. Now the room stood three-quarters empty, the working vehicles taking up only a small portion. There used to be more people here, too, Janus had told me. What an age that must have been, I remembered thinking, that they could live in such luxury and comfort, going about their daily work, never having to hunt for food or struggle to stay warm in the freezing cold.

Next to the operational vehicles, several more remained broken and in need of repair. These outnumbered the others by at least double. Beyond that, broken down and scrapped parts had been meticulously organized into their places. Our mechanics, what few there were, intended to fix all of these vehicles, but it was difficult enough to keep our existing machines in working order, so I had no illusion of the rest ever seeing repair.

On the other side of the hangar, the harvested remains of the Boneclaw were being unloaded at the makeshift processing center. It had been erected to make things cleaner and easier.

We also used the space for large community meetings and ceremonies. The next event coming up was the selection ceremony, when the new leader would be chosen from a group of six prospus, of which Nero and I were two.

Thinking of the ceremony made me nervous, so I let my thoughts wander back to the Boneclaws and their odd behavior.

Records and stories passed down through the generations told of how, not long after the Boneclaws had been created, they had broken free of their cages. The animals had fled the facility, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake.

In the early days, the scientists tried to retrieve their experiments, but those efforts had failed. The Boneclaws attacked, destroying the Eternals’ vehicles, and killed anyone who approached. Eventually, all attempts had been halted and efforts were redirected to repairing the damage, which had been extensive. Some areas were beyond maintenance, particularly the section dedicated to powering the main facility. The colonists were forced to move deeper into the compound, closer to the core, shutting down unnecessary sections to conserve resources.

This had marked the end of their history, and the beginning of ours.

Within the first century, one of the three facilities had gone dark, its tritium core offline.

Once the power systems began to fail, it had become increasingly apparent that the colonists would have to find a way to supplement their resources.

That was when the hunts began.

* * *

The ramp opened and I left the ship, heading to the work areas. I saw my friend Karin Riddell, one of the other prospus, working alone at one of the stations. She was already covered in gore.

Since I was still a mess from the hunt and didn’t mind getting my hands dirty, I joined her. Working with the others was fun and I always made a point to talk to as many as I could throughout the day.

My father said this was something that real leaders did, but I just liked to be social. Taking over as figurehead for the colonists seemed like a long way off. At seventeen, many of the adults still considered me a child.

He’d taken part in his own Selection ceremony around my age, then trained to take over when he was forty and the Director retired.

Karin smiled and waved when she saw me coming, and I grinned back.

We were close to the same age and had grown to be good friends over the years.

“Looks like you had an eventful hunt,” she said, gesturing at the Boneclaw pelt with a hint of jealousy in her tone. “Was it exciting?”

I nodded grimly. “Yeah, but not in a good way. It took down the frost horn calf we were tracking then almost killed Father.”

Her eyes went big at the news. “Is he okay?” she squeaked.

I nodded again, then began to recount the last few hours. “I threw a spear at it, which gave Nero time to chop its arm off and cut off the head.”

At that, Karin arched an eyebrow. “Wait, you mean he did something besides stand there and look pretty?”

“Haha. You know he’s a talented hunter, despite his other, many faults.”

“They are legion,” she agreed, then jerked her chin in his direction. “Look at him over there, preening. No doubt bragging about his kill, just loud enough for Maria to hear.”

The young hunter in question leaned casually against one of the walls, talking to his father, Mario, my father’s best friend.

He was handsome, but Nero knew it and used it to his advantage whenever he could. Extra rations, first pick of new clothes, and special gifts from his many admirers.

I disliked this immensely because he accepted it all without any promise of returning their affections. This resulted in fights between friends and hurt feelings. Enough that my father had to step in and say something.

“No doubt,” I said, turning back to the work.

Karin groaned. “He’ll be even worse once he starts leading hunts.”

“What if he becomes the next Director?” I pointed out. “Then we’ll all have to do his bidding.

“Unless you two get married.” Her lips curled up into a smirk, then she winked. “I heard he has quite the thing for the current Director’s daughter.”

At this, I rolled my eyes. “I haven’t even completed training yet. Besides, I don’t want to get married anytime soon. It would just be a distraction at our age.”

I meant it too. Not that I had anything against marriage or kids, it just didn’t sound like anything I wanted to do now.

Before Karin could come up with a response, a young engineer named Josef Braid walked up to the table.

“Hello, ladies. How is the deconstruction going?” he asked pleasantly.

Josef had clearly been doing some deconstruction of his own, because his leather apron was splattered with flecks of blood and chunks of something I didn’t want to identify. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing pale forearms covered in more of the same. Partially obscured by gross matter were his blue markings. We all had them, in varying designs, and they allowed us to interact with the facilities.

“Great, we’re having a blast,” Karin responded, making a face as her fingers slipped in some of the juices.

“Hi, Josef. Making anything interesting?” I asked.

He was always tinkering with something in his little lab, working on new ways to use the fusion cores. I’d gone to him a few times for help on the weapon I was putting together for my upcoming scavenge and made a lot of progress.

“Not really,” he replied, frowning. “The fusion cores are getting harder to find and none of the collecting parties have come back with any information on the missing tritium core. Some still haven’t returned, and it’s been months.”

Several areas across all the facilities had suffered breakdowns and collapses over the years, and the third tritium core from the fauna facility was missing. After almost two thousand years of carrying the brunt of the systems, ours was depleting.

Janus estimated it would only last for another hundred or so years, a few more than that if we were lucky. This had hastened us to send groups out in search of the replacement.

Everyone came back empty handed except for tales of their trip. They told of an overgrown compound, ripe with danger. In recent months, some of the groups didn’t come back at all. No one knew if they had been killed, attacked by the wolves or Boneclaws, or if they had simply run off.

The latter seemed unlikely. Outside, the elements could kill quicker than the animals, and unpredictable storm cells could take visibility down to nothing in a matter of seconds.

I offered him a comforting smile and would have patted his shoulder, but I didn’t think he would appreciate the blood on my hands getting all over him.

“Don’t worry, Josef. We’re marking off sections as they’re cleared. Sooner or later, someone will find it,” I assured him.

“I hope you’re right, Miss Visaro.”

I’d told him to call me Lucia, but he always said Miss Visaro. Truth be told, I kind of liked it, though I would never admit it.

The power in the hangar flickered, then came back on.

“Hate when it does that,” murmured Karin.

She wasn’t alone. The power going out was something we all feared. With no natural lighting to speak of in the caves, it got awfully dark when the power glitched. It was uncomfortable going from seeing in one instant to blindness in the next.

That was another reason we’d begun collecting oil from the frost horns. We used it to make lamps, learning the technique from Janus’ records of ancient Earth. If the power was off for more than a few minutes, we had them as back-up.

“It’s happening more often,” said Josef, looking worried. “If this keeps up, we’re going to have to start rationing power and look at ways to reduce consumption.”

I looked up in alarm. “It’s that bad? Does my father know?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s not dire yet, and Janus’ calculations appear to be correct, but I don’t like it. Anyway, stop by later. I think I have an idea for your staff.”

“Alright, I will.”

When he was gone, Karin wiggled her eyebrows at his back, then elbowed me in the side. “I think Mr. Braid has a thing for Cyril Visaro’s daughter too.”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” I teased. “Reading too many of those old romance texts.”

“I’m telling you, Luce, you should try them. Very stimulating.”

I had to laugh. She’d roped me into reading one before and it had been too boring to finish.

“No thank you,” I said, shaking my head. “Give me hunting and scavenging any day.”

“Hey, I like that stuff too,” she said, a little on the defensive side. “I just enjoy a little romance on the side. One day, I do want to get married and have a couple white-haired angels running around.”

Finished with work, I chuckled, then grabbed a towel to get the worst of the muck off my hands. “Let’s go get cleaned up. We’re starting to smell.”

* * *

Later, when I had time to be alone and think, I found myself in one of the viewing rooms, digging through the archives.

For the rest of the day, people had been coming up to me with words of congratulations on my successful hunt. They’d all looked almost gleeful. I’d been asked to recount the story more than a few times, and by curfew, I was ready to pull my hair out.

I’d smiled and nodded, as had been expected, but for the first time since Selection training began, my heart wasn’t in it. The image of the mourning animals continued to plague my thoughts until I’d finally given up on sleep and come here.

It was a place I had come to often as a child, sneaking out of my room at night to look at holo images of ancient Earth. My Nana would tell me stories of the planet, though she had never been there. They were passed down from our ancestors, like so many others.

They told of deep blue water that sparkled from the rays of a sun that actually warmed the skin. Grass that wasn’t buried under a meter of snow. Weather that didn’t kill you if you stayed out for hours. She said people went outside for fun, to play and work and enjoy nature.

I didn’t see what was so special about going outside to do something. Some of the kids liked to play a game called tag ball.

The rules of the game were simple. Janus would randomly choose one of the players to start it off. That person got the ball first. Their goal was to throw the ball at any of the other players and tag them. If they hit someone, that was a point. If the person caught the ball, they lost a point. No points were added or subtracted if the ball missed. If that happened, anyone could claim the ball.

Sometimes, if there weren’t too many adults around, we changed the rules. Like the point system. Extra for the face, if someone fell, or if the ball was slapped back at the thrower for a tag.

The concept of enjoying nature was foreign to me. All I knew was ice, dark, and perpetual danger. Still, as my mother reminded me on certain occasions, we were alive. Many couldn’t say the same. And we had fun. Hunting was fun, learning to shoot was fun.

As I’d grown older, the stories lost their appeal and I’d stopped coming.

Now I was back.

Questions burned in my mind. Were the Boneclaws intelligent? Could they be reasoned with? All this time we had been hunting them, but maybe it didn’t have to be that way.

I brought up all of the files we had, dating back to the Eternals’ first experiments. Janus had educated each of us on the subject before, of course, but I hadn’t paid a lot of attention. As a kid, it had been completely boring and unimportant, having never seen one before.

The Eternals that had brought the fearsome beasts to life were long gone, and history lessons had never caught my attention. We were all that remained, the ones left to deal with their mess.

Not that they hadn’t paid the price for their meddling.

Many from those first days of the collapse had perished. Fear and unrest had gripped the survivors, and paired with the elements of an unforgiving ice planet, the colony’s numbers had dropped significantly.

Self-preservation kicked in at some point and the colonists managed to make it through the first year following the collapse, though they could never repopulate to their earlier numbers.

Now, as I scanned the reports and pictures, I couldn’t help but feel some awe for their achievements. It was hard to imagine living in the compound while it ran at full potential.

None of the people in the footage wore furs or scrap metal armor. Their clothes consisted of clean, crisp jumpsuits, lab coats, and new boots. We had similar garments, but they were all worn and patched. Every so often, a scavenger team would come across a container of new clothes in the cave that were undamaged and bring them back. The contents were quickly redistributed amongst those who needed them most.

I opened a report at random and began to read in earnest. It detailed the first real success of the program and spoke of solutions to the aging problem they had been sent here to fix.

Eternals had thought themselves immortal, and for a long time they had achieved something close, even succeeding at accelerated healing. I did remember the lesson where all of their gene manipulation had resulted in the appearance that we still bore today.

Pale skin, white hair, and blue eyes. We’d kept the looks, but none of the other aspects. Our average lifespan was just about 150 years, although our eldest could live as long as 200, and we certainly still took time to heal. As a child, I broke my leg. It had taken a week to recover, even with the compounding brace that held everything together while still allowing for almost normal movement. Janus had said that we were better off than our ancient ancestors—the people before the Eternals—who took even longer to recover and whose lives were even shorter, so I tried to be thankful for what few blessings I could count.

He also told us of the transmissions between the scientists here and the Eternals back on Earth, which had long since ended.

At first, they had only sought to fix the degradation issue, but with each breakthrough, more problems arose that needed to be solved.

Enamored with their own superiority, the scientists had continued to manipulate the Eternal genetic code. Through all of their work, never had they stopped to consider whether their methods might yield catastrophic results. Never had they slowed to weigh the value of any alternate paths. Only the goal had mattered to them, and they pursued it through all available channels.

That thinking had cost them dearly. They were dead now, long since killed by their own horrible creations.

Moving on, I discovered a file dated around the time of the disaster. Curious, I opened it and found footage from one of the experiments, as well as research notes from the session.

Subject: BN009

Lead: Dr. Emanuel Curtis

Day: 379

BN009 shows no sign of degradation despite reaching maturity 299 days ago. Strength tests (previously documented) exceeded all expectations. Eyes remain vestigial. Hearing 50% more efficient than current Eternal physiology. As previously noted, the genetic sequencing of the new specimen demands attention. Dr. Tresbin believes it may hold the key to solving the degeneration problem, but more time is needed to analyze and test the subject’s genetic susceptibility to the degeneration sequence.

Today will mark another attempt to further assess healing and regeneration abilities.

An ominous feeling began to build in my belly, but I opened the holo file anyway.

The view room’s light dimmed, and one wall played the holo feed. A large lab appeared on screen. Two scientists wearing standard lab coats and holding pads stood in front of a heavily fortified enclosure with a Boneclaw inside. They were Eternals, though they looked like any of my people.

The animal sat listlessly in the far-right corner of the bare cell. Its eyes were open, but they stared unseeing at nothing in particular. This was an early form of the Boneclaws I knew. It had eyes, although they were unmoving. Perhaps it was blind, too, despite holding onto its useless organ.

“Commence trial 380a,” the scientist on the left said.

The Boneclaw’s ears perked up, showing that it had heard the man speak, but it didn’t otherwise react. The second man nodded and worked from his pad, tapping in commands.

A panel inside the enclosure opened and a mechanical arm slid out. There was a slight hiss of pressure being released, then the animal jerked, and something bounced off its coat and rolled across the floor.

“Up the pressure by ten percent.”

The scientist worked the pad again and repeated the process. It only took another two tries before the projectile embedded in the Boneclaw, causing it to screech in pain and scrape at its arm.

I felt a gnawing at my conscience watching the video. It continued like that, the scientists trying various tests meant to determine the poor animal’s limits.

“Moving on to audiometric data,” said the first scientist. He seemed utterly unmoved by the suffering he was inflicting on his test subject.

Both men donned earpieces before a shrill tone filled the room. It increased in decibels every ten seconds until the Boneclaw’s ears began to twitch. It swiveled its head as if trying to figure out where the offending sound was coming from.

As the pitch continued to rise, Subject BN009 began to exhibit more signs of discomfort. It tried to cover its ears, but the awkward length of its arms and clawed hands offered no relief. It finally began to stomp around the cage, banging its fists on anything it could reach, roaring as it went until it finally collapsed on the floor, writhing in agony.

I shut the recording off, unable to stomach the rest. I left the view room to try and get some rest, but it took a long time to finally sleep, and when I did, the animal’s tortured screams followed me into my dreams.

3

When my alarm went off the next morning, I woke feeling more at ease than I expected, given the subject of my midnight studies. The Boneclaw and its plight seemed far away now, and I pushed it from my mind.

Or tried to.

The footage of the tortured creature was over two thousand years old. Even if they had been more human-like back then, they were killers now.

In my mind’s eye, I pulled up the picture of the Boneclaw’s razor-sharp talon racing toward my father. It had come so close to killing him. If not for Nero, he’d likely be dead.

I ignored the little voice in my head that said we’d attacked first. It was survival of the fittest on this frozen world. If we hadn’t killed the Boneclaw, it would have gladly ripped us to shreds and gobbled up the pieces.

This wasn’t news, so why couldn’t I get their sad mourning song out of my head? My father, as usual, had been right. Thinking of them as anything but monsters was a sure way to second guess myself and get killed.

My datapad beeped again, telling me it was time to get moving. I sat up and gave my space a cursory glance. The room was small, just over two and a half square meters. Not that any of us did much more than sleep in them anyway.

Each of the three facilities in the sprawling cave network had been built to house more than three times our current number. Even after the collapse, when some of the living quarters had been destroyed, they still outnumbered the bodies available to fill them.

Despite that fact, many colonists still chose to sleep in communal areas. On some level, I could see the appeal. At times, the underground compound had a claustrophobic effect and the shared areas were more open.

I preferred to have somewhere of my own to go, at least to sleep.

To conserve energy, the lights were set to ten percent and cast a dim glow in the small space, not enough to do more than get dressed and stumble out into the slightly brighter hallway, but that was fine with me.

According to my data pad, it was well into the morning. If I didn’t get into gear, all the good helpings would be long gone. Another hunting party had returned after ours, and they’d brought in an adult frost horn.

Our food machine recycled edible material into full meals, and Janus did a decent job making different offerings. Not that I had anything to compare them to. In any case, the food quality went up several notches after feeding the synthesizer frost horn meat.

It didn’t take me long to realize that I was far too late and the few people that remained in the dining hall were chowing down one of Janus’ synthesized oatmeal dishes. With a reluctant sigh, I grabbed a bowl and sat down at an empty table.

I wasn’t alone for long, though. Before I took my first bite, Josef sat down and placed his tray next to mine without preamble.

“Good morning,” he said, and spooned up a mouthful of the oatmeal. “Mmm, strawberry.”

“Morning,” I replied, digging in with more enthusiasm. Strawberry was my favorite flavor and it took some of the sting away from missing out on frost horn.

“You look tired,” I said, noting the circles under Josef’s eyes and his rumpled jumpsuit.

Josef shot me a glance and his lips twitched up into a teasing smirk. “You’re not looking so fresh yourself, Prospus Visaro.”

“I was digging through the archives,” I said defensively. It came out a little ruder than I intended, and Josef’s smile faded. Grinning broadly to lighten the mood, I rambled on. “With Selection around the corner, I want to be as prepared as possible. Can’t have Nero beating me.”

I grinned, but Jo didn’t seem amused. If anything, his expression darkened, and his tone went uncharacteristically flat.

“If he becomes the next leader, we are in for some trying times indeed.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s irresponsible. You’re clearly the better choice.” Josef winked at me, but his harsh words surprised me.

The engineer was usually soft spoken and uncritical. To hear him speak like that about Nero made me wonder if he knew something. But that was ridiculous.

“Oh, come on,” I chided. “You don’t think he’s holding a grudge or out to get me because his dad lost to my dad?”

Josef just shrugged.

I wrinkled my brow at that. It was true, though. During the last Selection, the choice had come down to our fathers. Even though Cyril had been the ultimate champion, chosen by the Primes as the next colony leader, the two remained friends and I’d never even seen them argue.

“No. I just wouldn’t put anything past him.” Josef’s response interrupted my thoughts and I refocused.

“I won’t,” I promised. “Besides, we’re a long way off from my dad’s retirement.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Forget I said anything,” said Josef, and he scrubbed at his face. “I’m just tired. Elias had me researching the grid all night.”

“Oh. Any news?”

Josef shook his head. “Not really. The predictions are still holding. Without the other tritium core this facility will be in the dark within a hundred years. Two if we’re careful.”

“I remember,” I said with a nod. “That’s why we have to keep hunting the frost horn.”

“For as long as we can, yes.”

Something about his tone was unsettling and I studied his face. Josef was a year younger than me, but it didn’t show. Like everyone else in the colony, he had blue eyes, white hair, and pale skin with the markings of our ancestors.

He was usually pleasant, radiating an air of calm, but not today. I could see now that there was something more than weariness in his features. Worry creased his forehead, prompting me to dig deeper.

“What do you mean?” I asked, homing in on the cryptic phrase. “Is this something we need to bring to the Prime’s attention?”

Josef waved my concern away. “It’s not a crisis or anything. At least not yet. It’s just that…” He trailed off as a small group walked by our table, then started again. “Have you noticed anything different about the herds lately?”

I thought back to my most recent outing, unsure of what he meant. Then something Alma said on the hunt came back to me.

“We had to track longer than before to reach a herd. Almost out of the valley.”

He nodded. “Their numbers are beginning to wane.”

That made me frown. “Isn’t it normal for this part of the year? We assumed they were migrating.”

“They are,” agreed Josef. “But they are going farther and farther each season.”

“Why?” I asked, confused by what he was saying.

“Before we came here, the frost horns only had one natural predator,” he answered.

“Yeah. The wolves.”

The image of the animal that came to mind wasn’t an exact match for their Earthly namesake, but it was easy to see the similarities. Like the frost horns, the wolves sported thick white fur that helped them blend in with the snowy environment. Four long claws protruded from each of their six well-muscled appendages. They were faster than any human, often standing on two legs and using their heavy tail for balance.

It was an odd sight when they did. I’d seen it for myself on a few hunts and it always unnerved me. If they were standing upright and you were squinting from a distance, they could almost pass for one of us.

Until you got up close.

In addition to a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth, there was a single tongue-like organ. To take down prey, the wolves would latch on to their backs with four legs and rip at the thick frost horn hide with the remaining two. Once through to the meat, the tongue would worm its way inside, attach to the poor animal, and release a paralytic agent.

It usually took a pack of wolves to take down a full-grown frost horn and it wasn’t a pretty sight. Not as bad as a Boneclaw at feeding time, since they sucked their meals dry, but still gross.

The original colonists had collected a few samples upon their arrival, but when the tests didn’t yield anything they deemed useful, the animals had been forgotten. Thinking of the footage from the night before, I couldn’t say that was a bad thing.

I could see where Josef was going with the conversation now.

“Then came the Boneclaws,” he continued.

“And us,” I finished for him. “You think they’re being over hunted?”

He nodded. “With three apex predators around, they can’t reproduce fast enough.”

“Without the oil we harvest from them, we’ll be forced to find an alternative.”

From the pinched look on his face, I had a feeling that was the root of the problem.

“What alternatives are there?” I asked.

“As far as we know, there aren’t any other animals like them on the planet. Scans have shown that their numbers are greater elsewhere, but…”

“Leaving isn’t an option,” I said.

Now I understood his fear. If we didn’t figure out a way around this, then the colony wouldn’t survive.

“Well, you said we have two hundred years to figure it out, right?” I asked, trying to be cheerful.

He nodded but didn’t look convinced. “If we’re careful.”

I nodded firmly. “With our best engineer on top of it, I’m sure it will work out.”

Finally, Josef cracked a smile. “Best engineer? I’m hardly a Prime. But thanks, Luce. Anyway, I noticed you found my notes. The staff is looking good. I can help you with the coding later if you want.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought. We’d been working on my weapon together for the last few months and it only needed a few more things to get it working.

Josef had a fusion core in the lab that we used for testing, but if I wanted to have a working staff to bring to the Engineer Prime during Selection, I’d have to find my own during the scavenging test that would take place in the caves.

“Yes, if you have time.”

“For you, always.” Jo’s datapad beeped, so he pulled it out of his pocket, then frowned.

“Elias wants me. Catch up with you later, okay?”

Having already been chosen for engineering, his studies were over. Now he worked closely with Elias Doyle, the Science and Engineering Prime, and was being groomed as his successor.

“Sure,” I said, scraping the last of my oatmeal and standing up. “I’d better get going too or I’ll be late for Janus’ class.”

He laughed as we walked to drop off our trays. “For an artificial lifeform who has all the time in the world, he’s pretty strict about keeping a schedule.”

“Tell me about it. Last time Nero was late, Janus gave him extra homework. I think he had to cancel a date.”

We chuckled, then said our goodbyes and split up. He went toward the engineering lab and I headed for class.

* * *

I slipped in and took a seat next to Karin just as Janus turned down the lights to play something on the wall screen. Our classes were always held in one of the viewing rooms since it was easier when we had to watch a holo recording.

This time, the image depicted our own cave system. I perked up instantly. The current view was of an empty tunnel, partially obscured by debris. The camera was operating on infrared and the picture was green. Nothing moved and I wondered what our teacher had planned.

“The caves,” Janus began, “are a massive network that runs through the mountains in the valley. For Selection, you will be required to navigate them. In order to do so safely, each of you must learn the dangers.”

“Like what?” asked Nero. “The wolves?”

The Cognitive inclined his head. “Among other things.”

Janus was always cordial, even if someone was rude to him. I didn’t know if it was possible for him to be anything else, but I appreciated his calm demeanor.

He flicked his wrist and the view on the wall changed. Now the feed showed a bony pack of wolves roaming through a tunnel. I raised my hand.

“Yes, Miss Visaro?”

“What section is this in?” I asked, pulling out my datapad to take notes.

Janus smiled, his hard light simulated clothing giving off a light glimmer. “Quadrant D, near Facility 1. I’ll send the coordinates to everyone.”

A second later the information appeared on my pad. I opened a map of the tunnel system and studied the area.

Before we arrived on the planet, the wolves had roamed the caves freely. It had been their home. Many disappeared when the facilities were constructed but returned after the collapse.

“As we’ve learned,” Janus said, turning to sweep a gaze over the group, “communication outside this compound is spotty. With the other facilities down, we have no way of keeping the signals strong.”

Another dot appeared on my map, then a few more. The first one blinked brightly, then each subsequent one leading away from our position faded until the last one barely lit up at all.

“Can anyone tell me what you’re seeing?”

I raised my hand again, but so did Karin.

“Ms. Riddell?”

“A fading signal?” she answered.

Janus smiled. “That is correct. Take note of the signal radius. If you should find yourself in trouble outside of it, you will need to rely on your education and wits to make it back. Now, listen closely.” His voice took on a grave tone and he flicked his wrist again.

A large hole in one of the tunnel walls dominated the scene and I leaned forward. Others mirrored the move as we tried to make sense of the image.

“What is that?” asked Nero, sounding annoyed.

“It is a hole, Mr. Costas.”

I grinned at Janus’ response, though I know he didn’t mean it in any way.

“Yeah, but what made it?” Nero pressed on. “I mean, couldn’t it have been a cave in, or the wolves?”

“Excellent question. This appeared a few days ago. One of our scavenging teams found it and took this picture. Unfortunately, there isn’t any footage of what caused it. With the power restrictions in effect and the lack of functioning recorders, there won’t be.”

The image changed to a closeup of the rock where the hole stopped. Striations had been cut deep into the surface.

“Boneclaw markings,” said Nell Thompson. Nell was the best tracker in our class, and it didn’t surprise me at all that she spoke up. She was small and wiry, but what she lacked in size she made up for in scrappiness.

Janus nodded. “Yes. The wolves lack the strength and the tunnel extended beyond the 50 meters the team explored, ruling out a cave in. It seems the Boneclaws are the source, but it is unclear why.”

“Will we still enter the caves for training and the Selection Trials?”

I didn’t see who spoke, but process of elimination told me it was Mark. There were only a handful of us in Selection Training, and only he and Allan hadn’t spoken. Allan sounded gruff compared to Mark’s nasal timbre.

Mark was our resident know-it-all. He was a nice enough kid, but he spent most of his time studying, saying he preferred reading the study texts to people.

Allan was just the opposite. I wasn’t sure the guy ever studied, preferring to get through as many tasks as he could with brute strength. He also had the annoying habit of following Nero around and agreeing with almost everything he said.

“Oh yes,” said Janus, and he turned on the lights. “It is perhaps more important now than ever that all of you hone your skills. Fusion cores and other resources will still need to be scavenged from the other facilities.”

My earlier conversation with Josef was still fresh in my mind and I couldn’t help but wonder about the future. What would life be like when the last frost horn was gone from the valley, there were no more fusion cores to be found, and the tritium power was completely drained?

My datapad pinged again. A large red marker pulsed outside the radius of communications, then a few smaller blue dots appeared at different locations in the other two facilities.

“The red marker is the Boneclaw tunnel. Cyril has deemed it off limits until the area has been cleared by a hunting party. Known wolf dens are shown in blue. You will pair up in teams of two and enter the caves with Alma or another seasoned hunter for practice in a few days’ time.”

Karin and I exchanged a knowing look. We always partnered together, if given the chance. I could honestly say she was my best friend.

“That’s all for today,” Janus continued. “I must meet with Cyril and the Primes to discuss colony matters. If your weapon projects are not complete, I suggest using this time to work on them.”

The Cognitive blinked out of sight, leaving us to talk freely.

“Do you really think there are Boneclaws in the caves?” I said excitedly, pushing my datapad aside and leaning over my workspace.

Mark looked up with wide eyes and stared at me before sweeping a frantic gaze over the others. “They don’t ever come this far into the caves. There had to be a cave-in or something and they just dug it out,” he said.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Nero said, a hint of smugness behind his words.

Every head in the room snapped to him, waiting for an explanation.

He hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m not supposed to say anything.”

Nell huffed and rolled her eyes. “You can’t just say something like that and not follow up.”

Across the connected tables, Allan grunted his agreement.

“We all know you wanted us to ask you for more information. Now just tell us,” sighed Karin. We exchanged a smirk and stared at Nero expectantly.

He hesitated a moment longer then sat up a little straighter, looking at each of us in turn to make sure we were listening. “I heard my dad and some of the other hunters talking before I left this morning. They think the Boneclaws are organizing.”

“Get real,” Karen scoffed. “We’ve been here nearly 2000 years, and not once have they done anything sentient. How could they suddenly be ‘organized?’”

I thought back, mourning Boneclaws. It suddenly didn’t seem too farfetched after all.

Nero shrugged. “I don’t know. Evolution? Look at us, for example.” He spread his arms out in an encompassing motion.

“That was gene manipulation, not evolution,” Mark pointed out. “The Eternals were trying to get back their immortality. They wanted perfection, and they got it, just not the way they wanted.”

“Yeah, they’re the perfect murder machine,” I added.

“And now they’re in our caves,” Nero said gravely.

“Which is why that area is off limits,” Karin commented.

Nero sighed. “For how long though? Something needs to be done.”

Everyone was quiet for a beat.

“You don’t mean us?” Mark asked, going even paler than usual.

“Honestly, Mark. How are you even a prospus?” Allan snickered.

Mark went red. “I’m just saying, it would be ridiculously dangerous to go. Not to mention stupid.” He tossed Allan a pointed glance, but the barb went over the other prospus’ head.

Nell spoke up next, a trace of pride in her tone. “The colony is constantly on the verge of extinction. Part of that is because of the Boneclaws. It might be dangerous, but what do you think we’ve been training for?”

“Exactly!” agreed Nero, slapping a hand down on the table, which made Karin and Mark jump. “If it gets left to roam, it might come to the compound next.”

“The key word there is ‘training.’ None of us is actually a hunter yet,” Karin argued. “We’re not equipped to take on a Boneclaw by ourselves. Or more than one, if it comes to that.”

A snicker came from Nell’s side of the table. “Speak for yourself.”

“Do you know how much trouble we could get into for going against the Director's orders?” She looked at me for help.

Nero turned and focused on me. “What about you, Visaro? Scared as well?”

I tended to lean in the same direction as Karin and Mark. If we got caught, the Primes would not be happy, especially so close to Selection. Plus, I actually wanted to make it to the ceremony. Still, I had to admit it was interesting.

“She’s too much of a daddy’s girl,” Allan guffawed when I didn’t answer, then he turned to slap hands with Nero, who just shook his head. Crestfallen, Allan let his hand drop awkwardly.

Everyone was quiet, waiting for me to say something.

“Well?” Nero prompted.

“I’m not a daddy’s girl,” I said, slanting a look at Allan, who smirked. “But I am the Director’s daughter. I know the caves are off limits until the problem is resolved, for everyone’s safety. For all we know, a team is already gearing up to go. You really want to run into them and explain why we’re there?”

Everyone seemed to consider that for a few minutes.

“Well, I guess if you’re too scared,” Nero started to say, but I stood up, the legs of my chair scraping loudly on the floor.

“Fear isn’t the issue,” I told him, gathering my datapad. “I’m just not willing to get kicked out of Selection just to go exploring.”

4

As Janus had suggested, I made my way to the engineering lab to work on my prototype. Part of the Selection evaluation centered around our projects working. Josef had been helping me here and there with some of the electrical components, and I’d created the initial design, fabricated the shaft from pieces of scrap found in the caves, and written the code.

The lab door slid open as I approached, revealing the darkness inside. That meant Jo wasn’t working or had become so absorbed in a task that he hadn’t bothered to reactivate the bright, motion-activated lights.

It turned out to be the former as the lights blinked on to expose the empty space. I’d half expected to find Josef hunched over one of the workspaces doing calculations, but he wasn’t there. I preferred his company to almost anyone else’s, besides Karin, but I also enjoyed working alone. Sometimes I just thought better with no one else around.

I walked over to the biometrically locked storage area to retrieve my nearly complete weapon. The storage area consisted of variously sized lockers, with one large portion dedicated to fusion core storage.

Only the Science and Prime Engineer or his apprentice had access. Everyone else had to send a request to Acquisitions, which was a pain. Supervised students could study the cores in class but couldn’t request them unless Janus signed off.

My staff looked good, though it couldn’t activate on my touch without a source of power. I carried it hurriedly to the table.

I’d chosen to build a directed energy staff for a few reasons. Primarily, I didn’t think anyone else would think of the same thing, so I’d get points for creativity. It would be much harder to build than a rifle or spear, but could be more versatile. If it worked as I intended, once a fusion core was integrated to the power housing, it would be capable of firing beams of energy pulses of varying strengths.

It was nearly ready. I grabbed a test energy cell and brought it to the table. Though not as powerful or long lasting as a fusion core, the cells were still a precious commodity here in the caves.

When I inserted the cell, the staff reacted by lighting briefly. Then, I laid my hand on it and watched my tattoos light up in tandem with the markings I’d painstakingly etched into the metal shaft. I picked up the staff and held it in my hands. A thrill whispered through me at the sight, only to sputter and die when the power running through the staff pulsed red and faded to nothing.

This had been an ongoing problem I’d asked Josef to let me solve alone. I needed to know my weapon inside and out. He wouldn’t always be there to help me fix it.

The staff was tied to my biometrics and designed to react to me alone. I’d used the data from my tattoos to code it, and it worked until I used both hands. It had been a point of frustration for the last week and I had yet to figure it out.

I opened the schematics and began studying the notes again on my datapad. The bio locks used the unique identifier of my tattoos and I’d taken that directly from a scan of my signal. Everything worked perfectly up until a few seconds after the point of contact from my other hand.

An inspection of the data showed a discrepancy between the origin signal and something that was identified as a handoff process.

If I took the bio coding out of the sequence, it worked fine, but not just for me. Anyone with the Eternal skin tech could access most of the equipment because that made sense for day-to-day activities. For my weapon, however, I wanted it to respond to no one else.

I kept coming back to the handoff process. A deep dive into the subject revealed that when two individuals came into contact with the same piece of tech that was designed for a single user, the coding was written to allow for dual contact as long as one person let go within an allotted time.

This had to be it. I spent the next few minutes tweaking the algorithms for signal detection then did another test run.

I held my breath and willed the staff to work as I laid first one hand, then the other, on the shaft. It pulsed red again, this time faster than before. When I checked the fault code, the problem was different. It now read “identical identifier detected.” Still an error, but it was progress.

After another hour of tweaking, I was ready to try again.

The staff sat propped up on a stand and I curled one hand around the grip. It glowed to life and my tattoos followed suit. I didn’t move right away and made sure the connection held. The lights went out, since I hadn’t made any big gestures in a while, but the light from the staff was bright enough. With one last deep breath, I laid my other hand on the staff.

There was a single pulse as the handshake completed its process and the staff continued to glow. I couldn’t stop the grin from spreading over my face and satisfaction flowed through me.

I was about to wave the lights on again when a voice sounded outside the door and I waited, expecting Josef. My first thought was that it would be funny to startle him. A voice chimed in and I realized if it was Jo, he wasn’t alone.

The pair spoke in low tones, obviously not wanting to be heard, but I could make out some of it.

“We can talk here; the apprentice is with Elias and the prospus are in class with Janus. What did you hear?”

So it wasn’t Josef. I remained still and kept listening.

“The hunters didn’t make it back. Only Mario, and he said that they were attacked by a Boneclaw in the caves,” said the second man.

“This is the third attack and yet Cyril does nothing. This cannot continue,” replied the first.

“It won’t. If things go according to plan, he won’t stay in charge for much longer.”

I didn’t recognize who the voices belonged to and leaned forward trying to catch more.

“There’s a meeting later. Tell the others. Go to—”

The lights turned on from my movements and cut off the speaker.

“What was that? Never mind, let’s go talk somewhere else.”

Damn, I thought, as two sets of feet shuffled away from the door. That hadn’t sounded good at all. My earlier elation from the staff’s success had faded and been replaced by worry. I put my tools away and placed the weapon in a storage locker before heading out of the lab. I had to tell my father what I’d just heard.

I found him with Janus and my mother in one of the conference rooms. The conversation looked grave and I wondered if he already knew about the plot forming against him.

“Lucia dear, come in,” he said, waving me inside. “This concerns you as well.”

I entered the room and made my way around the battered table to stand with them. Janus inclined his head in greeting and offered me one of his kind smiles. I returned it, then kissed my mother on the cheek before turning my attention to Cyril.

“Father, I’ve just heard something disturbing.”

He sighed and nodded. “The missing hunting parties?”

“Yes—” I started to say, intending to tell him about the rest of the conversation I’d witnessed, but he cut me off.

“The colony is getting anxious, but I don’t want to make a move until we understand fully what is going on.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Mario believes that the monsters are waging a war on us.”

“Aren’t they just doing what they’ve always done? Killing when we get too close?”

“That’s the problem. We don’t know that they’re killing the hunters. At least not all of them. There’s little blood where they are going missing.”

“I’ve never heard of them doing that,” I said incredulously.

“It’s never before been recorded,” confirmed Janus. “Nor have they ever exhibited a desire to enter the caves. Certainly, tunneling has not been used as a method.”

“Mario thinks they’re testing out our defenses. Response time and all that,” finished my father.

I looked at my mother for confirmation, and she shrugged. She was just as involved in the colony as my father. A tall woman who commanded respect from her actions as much as her imposing stature. Worry now marred her features just as it had with Josef. I began to feel uneasy.

“We know the Boneclaws are smart,” she said. “That’s how they escaped in the first place. If they’re entering the caves, there has to be a reason.”

“What is Mario proposing?” I asked, already fearing the answer.

“He wants to exterminate the Boneclaws.”

“Father… there’s something else you need to know.”

I told him about the conversation outside the lab, but he only frowned.

“I think you misunderstood. There is a meeting tonight to discuss all this. The Boneclaw incursions. That must have been what they meant.”

“What if it wasn’t?” asked my mother.

At least she was taking it seriously.

My father just shook his head. “You’re talking about Mario going behind my back. He may not always like my decisions, but he would never do that.”

My mother didn’t argue, but I could tell that she didn’t share the same belief. I didn’t either.

“For the time being, the caves are off limits to anyone not scavenging or hunting,” my father said.

“What?!” I protested.

He held up a hand. “You and the other prospus will continue your training. But no more hunts until after the ceremony.”

I relaxed a little at that. It wasn’t ideal, but I’d take it over nothing.

“I have to go prepare for this meeting,” he said, walking to the door with my mother following behind. “Lucia,” he said, pausing before they exited.

“Yes?”

“How’s your weapon coming along?”

I grinned. “It’s only waiting for a fusion core.”

“Excellent. I knew you would figure it out,” he said, then they were gone.

“Is everything all right, Miss Visaro?”

I’d forgotten Janus was still in the room and nearly jumped when he spoke, but I managed to contain it.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just worried about the Boneclaw situation.”

“Ah, of course.” The Cognitive nodded sagely. “It is troublesome to be sure. I noticed you accessed the old records last night. Did you have a question I could answer?”

I looked up, expecting to find some kind of accusation in his eyes, but of course there wasn’t. Janus was the only Cognitive I’d ever met, but all the Eternal’s data explicitly said the AIs would only ever be of service. He didn’t have the capability of getting angry or trying to deceive us.

Janus had been around from the very beginning, created for the sole purpose of helping the Eternal scientists figure out their gene degradation problems. He’d fulfilled that purpose until the Boneclaws escaped and wreaked havoc on the facilities.

After that, his objective changed to aiding the remaining survivors. Two millennia later, he was still here, doing just that. He’d helped the people come up with a governing system based on old Earth. From that, the Primes had come into power.

Primes were chosen by their aptitude and expertise in five different fields: computing and information sciences, physics, chemistry, geological and environmental sciences, and biology. Together, they chose the leader of the colony from a pool of prospus who had expressed an interest in leadership or demonstrated natural ability.

During the ceremony, the prospus would answer questions to display their knowledge on whatever their specialization happened to be. Afterward, each would enter the caves in search of items that might be useful to the colony. Those who were successful were scored against each other, with the person on top becoming the next leader. Years ago, most people had returned with whatever they could find, never wanting to venture too far from home or risk exposure or death. Sometimes a prospus would come back with something truly extraordinary, but that sort of thing was rare. In recent years, due to the growing energy crisis, and for as long as I could remember now, the search had evolved into a hunt for fusion cores.

Their term of service lasted for 50 years or until death. Whichever came first. Fifteen years before they were set to vacate the position, the successor was chosen and began training. If anything happened to the leader before their term was over, the next in line would take their place until the original term was complete.

It was a good system and Janus was rarely involved anymore since it ran smoothly. Now he acted as educator, from the very young all the way to the elders who simply wished to fill their days.

It was easy to forget that Janus wasn’t made of flesh and bone because he’d always been around. I also thought it had something to do with his natural movement and speech, even temperament, and guileless eyes. You couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him.

Still, I didn’t know if I wanted to share my thoughts on the Boneclaws with anyone just yet.

“No, thanks,” I said. “Just doing some research.”

“A prudent use of your time with the ceremony just around the corner. As always, I am here if you need assistance.”

“Thanks, Janus.”

He bowed his head slightly, then disappeared.

Alone in the room, I thought of the conversation I overheard. Despite my father’s explanation and dismissal of the men, I felt deep down that something was very wrong. Janus had been quiet through most of the exchange.

A thought came to mind that chilled me. If Mario was plotting to take over the leadership, he could challenge my father. Then it would be up to the Primes to decide what to do. For all we knew, they were already aware of Mario's plans.

In that case, would Janus be forced to follow their directive, or would he be able to side with my father? I supposed that depended on who he felt would be the best leader for the colony.

I left the room feeling grim and went in search of Josef.

* * *

The hangar buzzed with the overlapping voices of over two hundred people. The entire community had gathered for the meeting and used the time before it to socialize.

It was hard to blame them. Daily life in the facility could get tedious. Besides meetings, the only time we got together like this was during weddings, funerals, and Selection ceremonies.

My father and mother waited for the meeting to start with the Primes on a slightly raised stage made out of material from the tear down area.

I couldn’t really make out their faces, but the tone looked serious.

“Hey, Lucia!” a voice called out behind me.

I turned to see Karin threading through the crowd and waving at me. I lifted a hand and waited for her to reach me so I didn’t have to yell.

“What are you doing all the way back here?” she asked, slightly out of breath.

I didn’t want to say that I was keeping an eye on the crowd and shrugged noncommittally. “It’s not as packed back here. Why do you look like you ran here?”

She blushed a little and wiped at a bead of sweat.

“Don’t tell me you had your head in a book again,” I teased, narrowing my eyes in mock suspicion.

“Not this time. I was finishing my project. It’s—”

“Shh…” I said, lifting my hands to quiet her. “We’re not supposed to talk about them to each other, remember?”

Karin rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Who’s going to say anything? It’s not like Elder Bara can even hear us.” She gestured at the old man who looked like he had fallen asleep standing up. “It’s not like it matters. I’m not going to win. Everyone knows it will come down to you and Nero.”

I stared at her open mouthed for a few beats. My friend grinned at me playfully and I didn’t see any anger from her, but the words surprised me.

“What do you mean everyone knows?”

“Like you don’t know.”

She laughed at my blank look and opened her mouth to say more when the hangar’s single working speaker crackled on.

“I’ll tell you later,” Karin whispered as the crowd went silent.

I nodded and turned my attention back to the stage, focusing on my father.

“As you all know, there have been some recent developments in the cave system. Mario Costas has also brought word of a missing hunting party. The third this month.”

Murmurs broke out from the crowd, prompting him to raise a quieting hand. Janus sometimes did the same thing when class got too rowdy. Apparently, it worked on bigger groups too, as the noise level dropped again.

“I know some of you have loved ones among the missing. In order to find them, I will assign two groups of senior hunters to the task of discovering what happened. There is hope that they are alive.”

A movement to the left of the crowd caught my eye and I saw that it was Mario. He strode to the stage with an arrogant expression that I immediately disliked. Nero trailed behind him but stopped short of climbing the steps.

If this irritated Cyril, he didn’t show it and instead swept an arm, motioning for Mario to join him.

“Mario will lead one of the groups while I take the other and track down our missing people.”

Mario nodded and addressed the crowd. “The attacks from the Boneclaws are not usual. They have become coordinated and systematic.”

His words caused another outburst of chatter from the crowd, but from the grim satisfaction on his face that was his intention. Mario didn’t use the amicable gestures to quiet them that my father had. Instead, he let the crowd talk amongst themselves until the din became a roar.

I realized what he was doing. Fear was a powerful motivator, and from the looks of those around me, there was plenty to go around. Some anger too. I had to hand it to Mario—it was a smart tactic, but I didn’t like it.

“What does that mean?” someone called out.

“I’m not sure yet,” he admitted. “But I do not think it is in the best interest of the colony to send our leader into unknown danger. For that reason, I propose that the panel approve only sending one group.”

He smiled respectfully at his leader, then turned to the Primes, who began to talk amongst themselves.

The crowd stayed quiet this time as we waited to see what the Primes would do. It didn’t take long for them to come to a decision in Mario's favor.

5

A week had passed since Mario and his group left in search of the missing hunters. Every day they didn’t come back, the tension grew within the compound. A few fights broke out over food rations, people seemed to always be in a rush, and my father’s office was flooded with aggrieved colonists.

The Selection was only days away and that only added to the stress for the prospus. Even Karin, who was usually happy as a rule, had begun to show signs of strain under the added pressure. She changed out the romances for study material and spent more time in the lab, often coming to the breakfast table bleary-eyed and sluggish, as she did today.

“You alright?” I asked her, setting my tray down a little hard and bobbling the orange juice.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Just tired from studying,” she said, not bothering to stifle a yawn.

“So, what were you going to tell me at the meeting?” I asked, spooning up another of Janus’ concoctions.

This one he called “eggs,” which I’d always thought was a weird name. The yellow appearance and runny texture didn’t make it one of my favorite breakfasts, but I couldn’t say it was the worst.

That prize went to—

“Huh?” said Karin, confused.

“You said you were going to tell me something about the Selection,” I reminded her. “Something that ‘everyone knows’ about me and Nero.”

“Oh that,” she said, smirking. “People are placing bets on you two.”

“Bets? What are they betting?” I laughed.

“The usual. Chores, extra shifts, trinkets.” Karin shrugged. “It’s just for fun. Anyhow, you and Nero seem to be the ones it's down to.”

I scoffed at that. “Please. That doesn’t mean a thing. Besides, anything can happen during the tests.”

She looked pensive and I nudged her. “No matter what happens, we’ll stay friends, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. Nothing could change that.”

“Good,” I said, standing up and gathering my mess. “Look, I want to make sure I’m prepared. Talk to you later?”

Karin nodded sleepily.

Deciding there wasn’t enough organic material to bother with the recycler, I took my dishes in the wash pile to rinse them out. A lot of people just left them there, but I’d scrubbed enough dried, caked oatmeal to have a healthy respect for those in the kitchen.

“The ration count is off again,” said Mary Reynolds, the kitchen boss, from around the corner.

“Are you sure?” The second voice was Jacob Abbot, the Sustainability Prime. “Maybe you should count it again.

“If you would like me to, but I assure you there’s no mistake. I’ve already counted it twice and asked another person to as well. The number of ready meals in storage doesn’t match what we’ve produced and sent out.”

“Perhaps the initial counts were off,” suggested Abbot.

“I suppose that’s a possibility,” Mary replied, though she sounded doubtful.

Why would anyone want to take ready meals? I thought to myself as the voices receded.

I kept trying to figure it out as I went to do a final check on my staff when I spotted Nero coming my way.

He slowed as he drew closer in the corridor and I groaned inwardly. We hadn’t spoken since the day of the meeting and I wouldn’t have minded if it stayed that way.

“Hey, Luce.”

One of my eyebrows winged up involuntarily. He never called me anything besides Lucia or Visaro. Nero’s use of a nickname and winsome smile told me he wanted something.

It reminded me of how Mario had addressed the crowd during the meeting. He’d used evocative language and took control with a confidence that spoke volumes. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Both my parents had been reserved and talking in hushed tones, stopping abruptly when I came within earshot.

The uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach had only grown, and though I couldn’t explain it, I knew it was just the beginning.

Resigning myself to a talk with Nero, I nodded and stopped walking. “Nero. What’s up?”

He looked around conspiratorially then motioned me off to the side.

“You up for a hunt?”

“What are you talking about?” I folded my arms across my chest and looked at him expectantly.

He stepped closer and leaned in to speak without his voice carrying.

“All the prospus are going into the caves tonight to check out the Boneclaw tunnel.”

I just stared. My father had instituted a curfew and put out the order that no one was to go in the caves unless he approved it. We’d gone with Alma as planned, but not very far and definitely not anywhere near the tunnel.

“Unless you’re too much of a coward to go against your dad?”

My temper flared at his words, even though I knew it was what he wanted.

“I am not,” I said hotly. “But Selection is almost here. Do you really want to get caught going against leadership right now?”

Nero smirked. “No, but what are they going to do, kick us all out?”

Much as I hated to admit it, he had a point. Still, my stomach churned at the idea.

“Everyone is going?” I asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. As soon as you convince Karin. She won’t go unless you do.”

That gave me pause. If I wanted to avoid a potential catastrophe, I could refuse to pressure Karin, though it probably wouldn’t take much to get her to go. Part of me wanted to explore the tunnel. Being confined to the facility had started to make me a little claustrophobic and it would be interesting to look into the mystery of the tunnel.

He must have sensed I was close to agreeing because Nero pressed on. “C’mon Luce. With my dad out there, I could use the distraction.”

That tipped the scales for me and I softened at his plea. Nero might be a jerk at times, but I could understand the worry.

Giving in, I let my arms drop. “Alright, fine. When?”

He grinned. “A few hours before curfew. We’ll say we’re studying so no one will come looking for us.”

“Okay,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll talk to Karin. You better hope we don’t get caught, Costas.”

Nero waved my warning away with a flick of his hand and continued down the hall. “Make sure you two aren’t late, Visaro,” he called over his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes at his back and sent Karin a message to meet me.

* * *

A few hours later, the six of us were standing inside a room near one of the entrances to the cave dressed in hunting armor. It had taken a solid ten minutes just to make our way through the maze of corridors to get to this point. I was a little concerned that we wouldn’t be back in time for curfew, but we’d come too far to go home now.

Surprisingly, Karin hadn’t balked at the idea. I figured she felt cooped up like I did and wanted to expend some energy. The excursion had already taken my mind off the apprehension that gripped the compound. Unfortunately, it had only been replaced with anxiety of getting caught.

The room was large and filled with broken furniture and equipment that had been too much of a hassle to haul into the compound.

Nero pulled out his datapad and motioned for us to do the same. We’d planned the route beforehand and our progress showed in the form of a green marker on the screen.

“Make sure we stick together,” he said, pausing when his voice echoed off the walls in the empty space. “Nell,” he continued in a quieter tone, “you’re the best at tracking. Once we get there, you take point. I’ll take the lead for now.”

Part of me wanted to object and ask why he should be leading, but I held my tongue. This wasn’t the time or place to start an argument. Besides, it gave him something to focus on other than the fact that Mario still hadn’t returned.

“Are you sure about this?” whispered Mark, looking anxious.

“Put a sock in it, Nagata.” Even though Allan spoke in a low undertone, his voice seemed to carry in the room. Unlike Nero, he didn’t pause. “We’re already here. You can go back if you’re going to be a coward. The rest of us are leaving.”

With that, he brushed past him and stood next to Nero. One by one, we followed suit until Mark was alone. He glanced furtively at the way we’d come then scurried to catch up once we’d started to leave.

Nero led the way in silence, traversing the pathways that had been constructed to near geometric perfection by our ancestors. I’d been in sections of the caves that hadn’t been touched and it was a shock how different they were.

Here, the walls were smooth and etched with lines in a design that showed up in all of the facilities. The original parts were rough and bumpy, uncut and wild-looking.

As we moved farther away from our starting point, the scents began to change too. The air had a dank quality, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. It was different from the unchanging smells of the compound and made me think of the outdoors.

It was mostly quiet, except for our movements as we made our way through the wide passages. Once or twice, I thought I heard a thumping sound, but no one else said anything and I ignored it.

Our location dot moved past the blue lights demarcating the transmission signal limit on the map. I tried not to think about what could happen if we got into trouble. No one had wanted to look for information on the tunnel in case Janus noticed and logged the search. We’d be traveling blind soon.

When we passed the final transmission marker, the datapads stopped tracking our location, unable to connect to a signal. I’d anticipated this and suggested that everyone bring something to help us mark our way.

The best we’d been able to come up with was infrared reactive paint. If a Boneclaw did tunnel through the rock wall, it was highly unlikely that they’d taken the time to create false trails or passes that branched off from the main one enough for us to get lost. Still, when our group reached the entrance made by the Boneclaw, I made the first mark.

Our plan was to make a mark every ten meters.

Nell stepped forward and studied the two-meter-wide opening with a handheld flashlight. It didn’t take her long to inspect both sides, and soon she was turning around and nodding.

“Definitely a BC,” she murmured. “You guys ready?”

When she had our collective acknowledgement, she moved quietly into the tunnel.

“Engineers, the Boneclaws are not,” muttered Allan.

“Really, Allan?” Karin snorted.

“Sorry, it just looks so…” His voice trailed off as he tried to find the right word.

“Uncivilized?” I offered.

“Yeah, that.”

Nell turned and glared at us. “Will you guys shut up? Kind of hunting something that wants to rip us to shreds and eat us for a snack.”

We stopped talking and continued to follow her through the crude passage. She paused every so often to inspect a wall or mark on the ground then would continue on.

After we’d been inside for a little while, my pad buzzed. I pulled it out and saw that the alarm I’d set had gone off.

“Guys,” I whispered, trying not to be louder than I had to. “We’ve got an hour before curfew.”

Nero looked at everyone with a pensive expression. “I say we follow it to the end.”

Allan nodded almost instantly.

Nell shrugged. “None of these tracks look new. I see one set going in and one going back. It’s like they dug until they were inside then walked back out.”

Karin and Mark looked nervous but didn’t say anything.

“If we don’t go back now, we’re probably going to get caught,” I warned. “Is it worth it if we find nothing?”

Nero focused on me with a piercing gaze. “We won’t know unless we keep—”

At that moment, a loud thump sounded. It was impossible to tell which direction it came from because the acoustics in the tunnel distorted the noise. We all froze and looked at each other.

Before anyone could speak, Nero took off down the passage on the path we’d been heading. Nell and Allan joined him, jogging to catch up. Not wanting to be left behind, I gestured for Karin and Mark to follow.

They did so reluctantly, both of them wide-eyed and unsure.

“It will be better if we stay together,” I reminded them. “Safety in numbers.”

Karin nodded. Mark didn’t seem convinced but followed anyway. I doubted he wanted to stay by himself in a dark tunnel made by a Boneclaw.

Nero and the others had disappeared around a bend and we had to jog to catch up. The thumping grew louder with each step and I felt the fear give way to a hunter’s mentality now that the threat had been realized. Anticipation was always the worst part.

I came to an abrupt halt when the tunnel veered sharply to the left and barely stopped short of running into Allan’s broad back. He, Nell, and Nero stood perfectly still, staring down the tunnel.

Their stances put me on high alert and I instinctively lifted a fist to halt Karin and Mark. I edged around Allan’s wide frame to see an adult Boneclaw baring its teeth at us. I unslung the spear I’d brought and readied myself, expecting the Boneclaw to charge, but it didn’t.

Instead, it backed away in a slow movement, swinging its head from side to side.

I looked at Nell, who shrugged. She had to be thinking the same thing as me. Boneclaws never retreated.

“What’s it doing?” asked Karin under her breath, voicing what we all seemed to be wondering.

“Can it tell how many of us there are? Maybe it doesn’t think it can take us all on,” whispered Nero.

“Have you even been studying?” I hissed. “The gene manipulation? Heightened aggression?”

Nero stared at me blankly.

“There could be a hundred of us and it would keep coming,” I explained in an exasperated tone. “It’s wired to kill.”

“She’s right,” said Mark. “There would need to be a stimulation that overpowers the instinct to attack.”

“So, what’s causing this?” growled Allan.

No one had an answer for that.

“I say we follow it,” Nero announced.

“That’s not a good idea,” whispered Nell. “We have no idea where it’s going. For all we know, it’s got a nest nearby. If we get too close, it’ll go berserk.”

“I’m with Nell on this,” I inserted. “I say we go back and report what we’ve found.”

“No,” said Nero fiercely. “If those things killed my dad… I just need to know where it’s going.”

Before we could object, he took off again.

Allan sighed. “He’ll get himself killed if he’s alone. I’m going with him. You coming, Nell?”

For the first time since we’d left, she didn’t look so confident. Her brow creased with uncertainty and she chewed on her bottom lip.

“I… I don’t think so.”

“Figures,” snorted Allan. “What about you guys?”

Karin shook her head and turned to look at Mark, but he wasn’t there.

“Where did Nagata go?” I asked, whipping my head around, but I didn’t see him.

“Probably off wetting his pants,” sneered Allan. “Whatever, I’m not letting one of our friends go after that monster alone.”

Friend is a bit strong, I thought as he turned to leave. He might be a jerk, but Nero was still one of us and we couldn’t just leave him alone.

“Fine, I’ll go with you,” I said.

“Lucia—”

I held up a hand to stop Karin from protesting further. “Hang back here for five minutes. If we don’t come back, go for help.”

Without waiting for a response, I tore off after Nero. Allan’s clomping feet pounded the cave floor next to mine, bouncing off the rough walls and echoing like rifle blasts through the passageway, but we weren’t worried about making noise anymore.

A roar echoed from somewhere up ahead and a scream followed. It had to be Nero. Allan and I exchanged a look, nodded, then dug in and went into a full run.

The tunnel widened into a cavern and a blast of icy wind hit us, blowing in from the entrance. The Boneclaw stood at its full height near the opening, surrounded by weak light, but I didn’t see Nero anywhere.

As soon as we stopped running, the Boneclaw let out an ear-splitting scream that shook me to the core. Not wanting to drop the spear, I cupped one hand over my right ear in an attempt to dampen some of the noise.

When it stopped, a muffled yell came from the center of the cave. It took me a moment, but I was certain it was Nero.

“There,” I said, pointing. “Do you hear it? Listen.”

There was silence, followed by Nero shouting. We couldn’t understand what he was saying, but I was certain it was him.

“I’ll go,” said Allan.

Not arguing, I nodded. “Okay. I’ll go around the far wall and distract the BC.”

I moved away from Allan and started stomping to attract the Boneclaw’s attention. Its ears perked at the racket, and I started yelling. “Over here, you overgrown hairy icicle!”

The Boneclaw didn’t come, though, but only stood there.

“Why isn’t it charging?” I muttered, looking quickly behind me to find Allan.

“That’s weird,” he said. “Is it hurt? What do you think it—”

He took a step forward, but as his foot touched the floor, I felt a quake beneath us. I watched Allan fall down into the layer below us, reaching out my hand to try and grab him. It was too late, and I felt my foot slip a second later.

We tumbled into the darkness below, disappearing with the stones as they fell.

6

I awoke to the sound of a raging battle. Blasts echoed in the cavern, cut with shouts and the roars of the Boneclaw.

Had Karin and Nell come to help us? Groaning, I tried to sit up and was treated to instant pain at the back of my skull. My hand came away bloody and I groaned.

Must’ve cracked my head pretty hard.

My vision was a little hazy and I shook my head to clear it. I scrambled to my feet. The walls of the crude pit curved up around me to meet at the small hole I’d fallen through, too high to reach, even if I jumped. I found a few good handholds but once I’d climbed high beyond a certain height, gravity won, and my fingertips couldn’t hang on.

In the back of my mind, I knew that the situation was all kinds of wrong. The Boneclaws had set a trap, and we had walked right into it. It shouldn’t have been possible. I shoved the thought away to deal with the immediate problem of being stuck at the bottom of the pit.

Voices rang out somewhere out of sight and it finally clicked that they didn’t sound like Karin or Nell. Before I could process that, twin roars erupted, one closer than the other.

Shit. Another Boneclaw had arrived.

The ground shook and I grabbed my spear as one of them came near. Its white fur, streaked with dirt, came into view first, followed by claws that scraped at the ground. It paused at the edge of the hole and drool dripped from the corner of its mouth. I didn’t move as it sniffed the air, presumably trying to figure out if anyone was near.

It leaned in and I backed up a step, which turned out to be a mistake. My foot caught on the uneven ground and I stumbled back.

The Boneclaw stiffened at the sound and growled deep in its throat before swiping out with one of its powerful arms. I leapt back to avoid the razor-sharp claws and ran into the back of the pit.

With nowhere to go, I did the only thing I could think of in the face of certain death.

Spear lifted above my head, I let out a battle cry and charged forward, leaping up and slashing at its face. The creature yowled and jerked back, but the damage was minimal.

From the sound that came out of it next, I’d only angered it more. The beast pounded the ground with both fists and moved closer to the edge as if it would climb down.

I was done if it did that.

My heart sank as it gripped the edge and began to lower itself. Gritting my teeth, I lifted the spear again.

“Lucia! Take my hand!” a familiar voice yelled from behind me.

“Dad!”

He hung over the edge above and extended his hand down into the pit.

A quick glance told me that the Boneclaw was almost fully into the pit and I crossed the few meters back to my father’s hand in bare seconds. Pushing off the balls of my feet, I jumped as high as I could and managed to connect. He pulled me up and over as the monster landed at the bottom.

“Now!” he ordered.

Hunters circled around the trap and took aim. Rifle blasts rang out and found their marks, pelting into the Boneclaw’s thick hide. It screamed in pain as its fur went dark, stained with blood from the multitude of rounds it had taken.

It chuffed a few times, then groaned and fell forward in a heap.

“Gods, Lucia.” My father wrapped his big arms around me and squeezed before letting me go and inspecting me for injury. “Are you hurt?”

“Not really, just hit my head when I fell in.” I frowned as I gestured to the trap, then remembered why I’d fallen to begin with. “Nero and Allan—”

“Are safe,” he finished for me. “Along with Karin and Nell, thanks to Mark.”

“That’s where he went,” I muttered.

“Yes,” he said darkly. “And you kids are damn lucky he did. What were you thinking?”

I didn’t get the chance to answer. One of the hunters stepped forward and spoke.

“Cyril, there are more headed this way. About three kilometers away.”

My father sighed and nodded. “Let’s move out before they get here. We’ll finish our conversation at home,” he said to me, eyes ripe with meaning.

I was in deep shit.

Nero stomped up to where we were standing, his face contorted in anger.

“We can’t just leave!” he shouted.

Cyril turned a stony look in the young man’s direction. “Yes, we can,” he said in a low voice, drawing himself to his full height. “And we will. That’s an order from your leader, Prospus Costas. Abide it or you will be removed from Selection.”

Nero balled his fists at his side and a muscle ticked in his jaw, but he nodded.

With that, my father signaled for everyone to move out. I stole a glance at Nero and didn’t like what I saw there. Rage showed in every feature and hate burned in his eyes.

Then I was being urged along and herded back to the compound. Questions swirled in my mind about what had just happened. What did this mean? Why did the Boneclaws suddenly decide to start strategizing against us? How, for that matter? As far as I knew, they’d never exhibited this level of intelligence.

By the time we returned to the compound, I hadn’t come up with any answers, just more questions. I had to stow them for later because our collective parents waited inside the common room inside the facility.

My mother didn’t look as anxious as I’d expected, probably due to the message we’d sent once back in transmission range, but I saw the raw fear hiding behind the anger, mixed with relief.

It wasn’t an emotion I was used to seeing in either of them, and guilt stabbed through me for having caused it.

Like my father had, she pulled me into a tight embrace before leaning back and giving me a stern look. “Young lady, you are in so much trouble.”

I sighed. “I know. Sorry for making you worry.”

She blew out a breath and hugged me again. “When Mark told us what you all did, I almost came after you myself. Your father stopped me. Barely.”

The man in question laid a hand on her shoulder and slated a glance at me before addressing the room.

“As you’re all okay, the Primes want a word,” he said ominously.

* * *

Big trouble turned out to be kitchen duty for a whole week. Nero had been right, surprisingly. The Primes couldn’t take us all out of Selection or there wouldn’t be any candidates left.

They did postpone the ceremony until our punishment was up. I had a feeling this was also to give Mario time to come back.

Nero grew more agitated each day and I wondered if he’d be focused enough to go through Selection. A small part of me hoped so, but the better part wanted to beat him at full strength. Otherwise, it wouldn’t feel like a true win.

The day of the ceremony came without further incident and I found myself standing with the other prospus after the first aptitude test.

It had been completed on our datapads and was supposed to be the easiest part of Selection. I’d studied hard in preparation, but it hadn’t seemed easy. No one looked particularly confident, with the exception of Mark, who’d probably aced it.

The test only accounted for part of the score awarded by the Primes. We still had four more to go.

The door opened and the Computing and Information Prime, Keyan Lambert, stepped into the room. On Selection day, all the Primes wore more formal attire in the form of a black jacket over the standard jumpsuit. A silver pin, shaped like a heart, was fastened over the right side of his chest as it always was. Lambert’s hooded eyes searched the group until they landed on me. He smiled kindly and gestured me in.

My stomach twisted into knots despite his friendly demeanor as I followed him into his office. It would serve as the testing area and was, before today, a comfortable space I’d been to a few times before. The nature of this visit made it feel somehow foreign.

“Have a seat, Ms. Visaro,” he said, motioning to one of the two chairs in the middle of the room.

They were old and showed their age with the many cracks and repairs that had been done over the years. Still, I sank into the deep cushion and tried to relax.

Lambert sat opposite me and pulled his datapad out to study it. After a few moments, he placed it on a small table next to the chair and folded his hands in his lap.

“No need to be nervous, Lucia. This is just a simple interview.” He looked pointedly at my hands.

I’d been unconsciously twisting them, so I forced them to be still and nodded. “I’m ready, Prime Lambert.”

“Very good. We will begin, then. How do you feel about completing tasks beneath that of the Director?”

My brow wrinkled in confusion at the question. “I don’t know that any work in the facility is beneath anyone.”

Lambert smiled and I realized that must have been the answer he wanted. “That seems to be in line with reports. I’m told you frequently help others with a variety of tasks and have a generally friendly attitude. That’s a good quality in a leader, don’t you think?”

I nodded. “Yes, I do. A leader should be willing to do what they ask of anyone else.”

“Does that include following orders?”

He slid the question in so smoothly I almost spoke without considering meaning behind it.

“I try my best,” I said carefully, “though at times have made the mistake of not using my better judgment.”

“Such as the other night? When you and the other prospus entered the caves?”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Like that.”

“The archive records showed that you recently accessed footage of the early Boneclaw experiments. Tell me, why was that?”

His question took me by surprise, and I had to work to remain at ease. Did he know about my misgivings?

“The Boneclaws that attacked during my last hunt exhibited unusual behavior,” I said, deciding to go with a half-truth. “I wanted to make sure that I understood their behavior so as to be a better hunter.”

Prime Lambert regarded me for a moment but seemed to accept the answer.

“Janus and Apprentice Braid speak highly of you. A number of others have come forward to express similar sentiments. Only a small number of complaints, though I can’t share specifics.”

“It’s not always possible to make everyone happy,” I admitted. I wanted to know who had complained, but he obviously wasn’t going to give that up.

“That’s true. Well, that’s all for this portion, Ms. Visaro.” Lambert stood and picked up his datapad. “I wish you luck on the rest of your tests.”

“Thank you, Prime Lambert.” I completed the interview with a small ceremonial bow and exited the room.

My weapon was under scrutiny from the Engineering Prime Elias Doyle. It was only part of the assessment, though. If they didn’t work, a prospus wouldn’t be able to enter the caves. It passed muster, but I hadn’t expected any problems. All of my trials had been successful since I’d gotten past the coding hurdle.

Now all that remained was to retrieve our fusion cores. They would be the ultimate test of our bravery, tracking skills, and teamwork. Once we found them, they would be brought back to the Primes and inserted into our weapons to complete the ceremony.

Then the Primes would choose the next Director.

* * *

“You have each been given coordinates. These are not the exact locations of the cores, but a general location. Once inside that radius, you will need to use the skills you’ve acquired to locate them. In light of recent events”—my father cast a meaningful look at us— “you’ll go in groups of three instead of pairs.”

He stood flanked by the Primes, along with Alma and another senior hunter, at the main cave entrance. As was customary, none of our parents were there to see us off. As the Director, my father was the exception to that rule. They had wished us luck at the start of the day and would be there for the final ceremony, but for now, we were on our own.

Alma stepped forward. “Prospus Nagata, Visaro, and Riddell. You’re with me.”

“You have three hours. Good luck, Prospus.” With a final grand sweep of his arm, we were motioned forward. Though my father couldn’t say anything, pride shone on his face when we walked by.

Then we were through the door and in the dank darkness of the cave.

7

“Remember, I’m here for evaluation and emergencies. You can’t ask me for help,” said Alma. “Treat me like I’m not here.”

Taking her words to heart, I pulled out my datapad and turned to Karin and Mark without responding. It was reminiscent of our situation only a week ago, but the circumstances were much different this time. Even though our last excursion had nearly ended in disaster, the stakes seemed higher now.

“There’s wolf activity here and here.” I pointed to the markers lit in blue. “One is inside the radius. I say we go around and enter from the north. That way, we don’t run into them unless we have to.”

I was careful to sound confident without taking charge. We needed to work as a team, but at the same time, we each needed to prove our ability to lead.

“It’s a smart idea,” agreed Karin. “Mark?”

“Yes, that should work,” he said, then tightened his grip on the weapon in his hands. “We’ll have the rifles if we run into any of them, but I’d rather not.”

I knew the other prospus was incredibly smart and had been chosen for a reason, but sometimes I wondered if he would be a good leader. The guy seemed scared of almost everything. Then again, he’d come through the caves alone and brought back help. We almost certainly would have been killed otherwise.

“Okay, ready when you are,” I said.

The other two nodded and we started walking, Alma following a short distance behind. The older woman moved quietly, and it was easy to pretend she wasn’t there.

We wound through the labyrinth of destroyed and abandoned rooms, pausing only to check our location. Evidence of our ancestors was everywhere, most of it trash. Our people had picked through most of the items long ago and now scavenging teams poked through unexplored areas in search of anything usable.

It was easy to discern areas that hadn’t been searched. If they had, the teams cleaned up as they went, creating neat little piles and paths through the rubble.

Our little trio stopped in a large chamber that forked off into two separate paths. One led to Facility 1 and the other looped back around and eventually led to Facility 3.

The devastation seemed to be concentrated here. The archives showed that the facility’s security team attempted to detain the escaped Boneclaws here, but what followed had been destruction on a critical level.

Parts of the wall were still pocked and scarred with black from what must have been a terrifying battle. Twisted pieces of metal had been pushed and piled along the walls in heaps, along with the charred remains of unrecognizable debris.

A loud thump sounded from somewhere deep in the cave system, although it was impossible to know where.

We all froze, straining our ears, but it didn’t happen again.

Mark swallowed audibly from my right. “Wh-what was that?”

“Something far away,” Karin reassured him.

“Let’s keep moving,” I said. “It’s already been forty-five minutes and we haven’t even started looking. Besides, I don’t want to stick around and find out if whatever that was is headed our way. If we go through there, it should take us to a corridor that will run into the radius of the cores.” I pointed to the path that went left.

“Sounds good to me,” Mark whispered, as though someone were listening in.

I started to move but stopped when Karin didn’t. “Karin, everything okay?”

She nodded but stopped halfway and shook her head. “I… I don’t know if I want to go through with this.”

My mouth dropped open and I stared at my friend in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“Look, I never wanted to be a prospus, okay? Someone nominated me and I couldn’t back out. But after last week, I just know this isn’t for me.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to think fast. “Okay. You don’t have to be leader, but we need you to come with us.”

“Why? You’re all but guaranteed to be the next Director. Mark is absurdly smart. You don’t need me.”

Another thump reverberated through the large space and Karin jumped.

“That’s why. If you stay here, we’ll be worrying about you and that will make us vulnerable. Besides, remember what you said? Safety in numbers.” I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and met her eyes. “I need you.”

She held my gaze for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. I’m with you.”

We entered Facility 1 to find more of the same damage and disarray. I kept an eye on Karin, but she seemed to be holding it together after my little pep talk. Mark looked nervous as usual but seemed determined to see the last test out and stayed quiet.

As soon as the datapad indicated we were in the radius of the fusion cores, we started working our way through the empty rooms and labs.

“If we keep going like this, we’re going to run out of time,” Mark said, annoyed. “There has to be a better way.”

“I’m all ears,” I said, equally frustrated.

We’d been at it for some time but had barely covered a quarter of the possible locations.

He groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. “I’m so stupid! The fusion cores emit radiation. We should be able to detect it.”

Mark pulled out his datapad and began working it furiously, his fingers flying over the screen as he typed. We let him work in silence until he smiled and held it up triumphantly.

“Got it. Each of the facilities is tied into Janus’ main network. I was able to access a few working scanners and narrow down the location.”

“Lead the way,” I said in relief.

The discovery seemed to have bolstered his confidence and Mark strode away without any of his usual hesitation. Karin, too, had lost most of the trepidation that had been dogging her and I felt a surge of hope. We might just make it after all.

Mark led us through a series of passages, some empty and clean and others in various stages of disrepair, until we came to what looked like a mess hall.

“Through there,” said Mark, gesturing at a door at the other end after consulting his pad.

“You guys ready?” I asked.

After they acknowledged that they were, we crossed the room together. The door wasn’t coded shut so it slid open noiselessly as we approached. I went through first, letting the other two file in behind me.

What I saw stopped me in my tracks and had me backpedaling as fast as my feet would carry me.

“Hey!” said Mark when he ran into me.

I whipped around and pressed a finger to my lips, cutting him off. He must have seen the look on my face because he turned and waved off Karin, who hadn’t quite made it into the room.

Once we were outside again, Karin looked at me quizzically. “What was that all about?”

“Wolves,” gulped Mark, speaking for me. “Three of them. I saw when Lucia turned around.”

“There shouldn’t be any wolves,” said Alma from my side. I had actually forgotten about her and almost jumped at her sudden appearance.

“I thought you weren’t here,” I said with a slight smirk.

“Don’t play games with me, girl.” Her tone didn’t quite bite, but it had a serious ring that told me something wasn’t right.

“They aren’t part of the test?” I asked, sobering.

“No,” she replied, looking worried.

“I’m pretty sure all three are asleep,” offered Mark. “It looked like the fusion core container was against the far wall.”

“That’s where we put it. How the hell did those vermin get in there? The doors shouldn’t have opened for them. They don’t have the markings.”

I knew the answer but hesitated to say. I didn’t want to risk Alma ending the test and sending us back. But if I didn’t, and something bad happened, it would be my fault.

“There’s an opening in the far-left wall,” I supplied.

Alma looked at me sharply. “A hole?”

I nodded reluctantly. “Yes. Like the one in Quadrant D.”

“You lot stay here. I’m going to try and make contact with the compound.”

“Sorry,” whispered Karin when Alma had moved out of earshot. “They’re probably going to make us go back. I know how bad you want to finish.”

“We’re so close too,” I said, unable to hide my disappointment.

“Do you really think there are Boneclaws here?” asked Mark.

“No. The wolves wouldn’t be there if a Boneclaw was close by,” I answered with a shake of my head.

Alma came back a few seconds later looking grim. She didn’t appear to be happy with whatever she learned.

“The Primes want you to go ahead with the test,” she announced.

“I thought comms were down this far out?” said Mark.

The older woman just gave him a withering look. “It’s the Selection, boy. You think we wouldn’t have taken steps to maintain communication? Six of our best and brightest are out here.”

“Oh, of course,” Mark replied.

“You each have weapons,” she said, regarding us. “And I’m to go in with you.”

It was irritating to hear that the Primes thought we needed help. “But we can handle—”

“That’s non-negotiable, Prospus Visaro.” Alma fixed me with a stare that brooked no argument.

“Alright,” I said reluctantly. “I don’t think we woke them. At least not that I could tell. Mark, can the sensors pick them up?”

He pulled out his pad and started working it again. “No, sorry,” he said after a few seconds.

“What’s the plan?” asked Karin. “Just go in shooting or are we going to try and get the cores without waking them up?”

“Not sure that last part is possible,” muttered Mark.

I agreed with him on that point. “I’ve got an idea,” I declared. “Two of us should attack while one grabs the cores. Then when the cores are out, we can back out and shut the door. Can you program it to shut from the pad?”

The last question was directed at Mark and he grinned. “Yeah, that’s easy.” The prospus tapped on his pad then gave me a nod. “Done. It’ll open and close on command now.”

“Okay, then. I guess the only question is who wants to attack with me and who wants to grab the cores.”

“Mark should grab the cores so he can deal with the door,” said Karin. “I’ll attack with you.”

“Sounds good. Let’s get it done, the clock’s still ticking,” I said, pulling my rifle from my back and going to the entrance. “Open it.”

The door slid smoothly open, revealing the interior of the room. A few machines still connected to power blinked weakly and our lights cast a glow over the sleeping animals.

Just as we’d been taught, I fanned left and Karin went right to approach from the sides, then we opened fire. The room erupted into chaos. The wolves awoke and immediately hopped up into hunched, aggressive stances. Our initial volley of fire seemed to do little to slow them. They screamed, high-pitched and painfully loud, before attacking in return.

One came at me, mouth open and tongue dripping venom. I continued to fire, but it was on me in an instant. Its mouth closed down on my arm and I felt something give way. Unable to stop a scream from the pain, I felt panic in the moment. Helplessness. Then I remembered my father, my mother, why I was here, and what I was going to do for the colony in the future. Just as quickly as it had flared, my fear was replaced with clarity and intent.

I brought my gun hand up, pressed the weapon to the side of the wolf’s head, and fired. I felt the pressure against my arm of the bullet’s path through the wolf’s head, then relief as its jaw went slack. I rolled with the body as it fell to the ground and pried the dead animal’s teeth free from my arm.

I rose to my feet, my arm burning like fire, and saw that the fighting wasn’t even close to done. Across the room, Karin was cornered in a struggle with her own wolf. Alma had stepped into the fray, taking on the last animal, which was substantially larger than the other two. Likely an Alpha.

I’d seen Alma participate in hunts and train prospus and hunters, but I’d never seen her like this. Her glaive was alight with blue, same as the markings on her skin. She bared her teeth at the Alpha and let out a battle cry that seemed to give it pause, then she attacked in a blur of movement.

Mark had the box and was moving for the door. He paused when he saw me and flicked a glance at my injured arm.

“Go!” I yelled, sprinting for Karin.

Her gun lay just out of her reach and she was fending off the wolf with a broken pipe. Her hair had slipped out of its bindings and fell into her eyes.

“Get out of here!” She swung the pipe in an arcing motion, and it whistled through the air, cracking across the wolf’s snout. It whimpered in pain, but the blow didn’t seem to do much and the wolf recovered almost immediately. It bared its fangs and growled.

Finally in position for a clear shot, I raised the gun, aimed, and fired. The first shot tagged the animal in the shoulder, drawing its attention to me. I kicked Karin’s gun back to her and squeezed the trigger again. The rifle clicked. I was empty.

The wolf tensed and readied to jump me, venomous tongue lolling from its mouth. Suddenly, a blast sounded, and the wolf’s face split open. It slumped to the ground with an audible thud.

Karin stood behind it, arm raised and gun in hand, a ferocious look on her face. She fired three more shots into the back of the downed animal’s head.

I turned to check on Mark and Alma to find him gone and her still embroiled in combat, grinning of all things. A smear of blood crossed one cheek and she circled the wolf, glaive steady in both hands.

My left arm was pretty much useless, so I fumbled to release the spent magazine and put a fresh one in. Karin was at my side now and we moved in to help our trainer, only to be waved back.

“Stay back!” she commanded. “This one’s mine.”

The wolf surged forward, low and fast. It was going for her legs, like it would with any other prey, but Alma pivoted and kicked her foot high behind her. The wolf slipped beneath her and snapped at empty space. In the same graceful movement, Alma brought her glaive down into the beast’s side. Her blade slipped into the flesh of its middle shoulder and found purchase in the socket. The wolf howled in shock and agony as she placed a foot on its back and twisted the glaive.

The wet, grinding snap as the joint came out of socket could be heard even over the raucous screams and flailing as the wolf tried desperately to free itself. Alma planted both feet on its back and braced herself with the weapon buried in its side as it tried to stand upright.

It stumbled forward, managing only to raise itself into an awkward hunch, before falling onto its face. Seizing her opportunity, Alma ripped her weapon from the wolf’s shoulder and plunged it higher into its back. Her glowing blade slipped between the creature’s ribs and the room fell silent. The animal let out a hoarse, watery breath, and then was no more.

With the wolf crumpled on the ground in a heap, Alma looked down in satisfaction. She dug a heel into the fatal wound to loosen her blade before pulling it free with one hand, then she stepped off of the body, barely breathing hard at all. I didn’t think I’d ever seen anything more fearsome or awe-inspiring.

8

Back at the compound, Mark and I had to get first aid before the ceremony could begin. The Alpha had gotten hold of his leg, which had been what prompted Alma to step in. Thankfully, nothing was broken and we would get back without any more problems. My arm had a strong brace and I wasn’t feeling anything but a dull ache from the injury.

We’d arrived after the three-hour time limit, but I wondered if any concessions would be made for the unusual circumstances. Nero and his team had returned long before us, not having encountered wolves or any major problems.

Now the six of us walked into the hangar with our final projects to climb the makeshift stage and stand in front of the five Primes and my father, our parents, and the rest of the community.

My mother had a spot in the front, and I was surprised to see Mario next to her. He had returned with some of the missing hunters sometime after we’d headed to the caves. Details were sparse since prospus weren’t allowed to talk with anyone but each other until after the choosing was completed.

“Prime Doyle will distribute the fusion cores to your weapons,” my father announced when we were all assembled, “then fire at a target to ensure they are in working order.”

He gestured at the training dummies, fashioned to look like crude Boneclaws, that had been built to withstand our weapons and were standing behind us at the back of the stage.

Doyle stepped forward, flanked by Josef, who carried a case that I assumed contained the cores. They worked their way down the line, inserting them into the power housings of each weapon.

Nero was first in line and produced a rifle. It looked like he’d spent some time on upgrades and painted it white. When the core settled inside it, he wrapped a hand around the grip, and the weapon glowed with energy. Then he offered it to the Prime. Elias removed it from his hands and took aim at one of the six targets. A round erupted and struck home, then he nodded and moved on to Karin.

Her spear reminded me of Alma’s glaive, but the blade and shaft were much shorter. It hummed with the fusion core’s power, and when she lifted it, a second blade extended from the bottom, crackling with energy.

I couldn’t help but smile. It was impressive.

Allan had made a shotgun that reflected his personality. Big and powerful, no frills. I liked it.

Mark had gone for something less traditional but effective nonetheless. It looked like a handheld scanner, barely big enough to put the core in. Doyle nodded at him and Mark closed his hand around the base so that just the top was exposed, lit by a blue ring.

A high-pitched screech emitted from the small device and we all jerked. It shut off a few seconds later and Elias turned to the crowd.

“This device will repel a Boneclaw by assaulting their sensitive eardrums. Impressive indeed.”

A collective ooh came from the crowd, but they quieted when Elias and Josef moved on to Nell. At first, I thought she had something like Mark because it was about the size of a baton. When the core went inside, Nell closed her hand around it in a firm grip and held it away from her body.

The baton extended out from itself until it took the form of a bow. Not the most powerful of the projects, but it got major points for awesome.

Then it was my turn and I presented my staff. The familiar thrill rolled through me again as it lit up with the core I had retrieved. It seemed more brilliant than when I tested it with the practice core in the lab and I had to force myself not to grin like an idiot.

The energy glow dissipated when Doyle took it from my grasp, and he gave me an inquiring look. The crowd went still, unsure what was happening.

I smiled and gave a little bow. “Prime Doyle, as part of my project, the weapon has been encoded to react only to me.”

“Interesting,” he said, handing it to me. Then he stepped back and gestured at the last remaining target. “If you’ll please demonstrate.”

Nodding, I turned and stood in fighting stance, squaring my shoulders, then leveled it at the target and cleared my mind of everything else. The end of the staff began to pulse, and a ball of light formed. I released it with a loud boom and the dummy disappeared in a cloud of dust.

The hangar was completely silent for a beat before breaking into applause. Even Nero looked impressed. I returned to the line to stand with the others and waited for it to quiet again.

“You have all finished your prospus training and stand before us as proven warriors, all fit for leadership,” my father said. “But only one can be the next Director. The scores have been tallied and the Primes have made their decision. Janus?”

The crowd was nearly silent but for a few murmurs and the odd cry of a child that was quickly hushed.

Janus stepped forward. I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined he was smiling genially at the onlookers.

“The Primes have chosen Nero Costas as leader when the time comes.”

The expected cheers and handclapping followed but were drowned out by the dull roar of blood rushing in my ears. I nodded and joined the rest of the prospus in congratulating him, but inside I was reeling.

I hadn’t realized just how important succeeding my father as Director had become to me. It also stung that they’d chosen Nero, even with his hot-headedness and impulsive behavior.

Someone squeezed my shoulder and I looked over expecting to see my father, but it was Karin.

“Should’ve been you,” she whispered as we exited down the steps to give Nero the stage.

“Thanks,” I said, checking to make sure no one could hear us.

We stood off to the side, a group of five. Nell only looked mildly disappointed, while Allan looked downright pleased, neither of which surprised me. Mark just looked relieved.

Mario walked by us, smiling, to join his son and our eyes met for the briefest of moments. I couldn’t quite explain it, but something in his expression unsettled me. It spoke of the kind of smug satisfaction that came from a plan going off without a hitch.

I brushed that thought away as fast as it came, though. That wasn’t fair to Nero. The Primes had made their decision and I had to live with it.

Movement from the side of the hangar caught my attention and I turned to watch as a handful of hunters entered. Karin noticed my gaze had wandered and turned to look.

They were dressed for a hunt in armor and weapons. It didn’t take long for me to recognize a few of them as among the missing. Or previously missing. I stared curiously as they crossed to the crowd.

Other people began to notice as well, and I saw some of the happiness fade into confusion.

“As you can see,” said Mario from the stage, “I found a number of our missing people and brought them home. Something the current Director was unable to do.”

“If you have a problem with my leadership, Costas, you should bring it up at a more appropriate time,” said my father, democratic as usual.

Mario scoffed. “That’s part of the problem, Cyril. Some problems can’t be cast aside. There are times when action is needed now.”

My gut tightened at the words and uneasiness settled over me again. It was becoming an all-too-familiar feeling and I didn’t like it. What was going on?

The hunters reached the stage and stood looking up at Mario and the Primes.

“I believe they have something to say,” Mario announced. “Will you hear it?” He directed the question at the Primes, who nodded and moved forward.

“We don’t want Director Visaro as our leader anymore. His constant inaction has led to unnecessary death. We brought the Boneclaw concern to his attention and were ignored.”

A few people in the audience made noises of approval.

“Wait just a godsdamn minute!” My father’s tone had turned colder than the valley outside and the hangar went dead quiet.

Mario smirked at his word choice. “No, I don’t think we will.”

Jacob Abbot, the Sustainability Prime, walked up to him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

I couldn’t quite catch what he said, but I could have sworn it was something like “this wasn’t the plan” or something like that, but it was impossible to tell.

Mario ignored the Prime. “I, Mario Costas, challenge you here and now for the title of Director.”

Anger flared on my father’s face at the absurd timing of Mario's proposal, and he flicked a glance at the Primes.

They held up a hand and conferred together for a few moments before breaking apart. I could tell immediately from the look in Prime Doyle’s eyes and his grim expression what they had decided.

“The challenge may stand,” said Jacob.

This wasn’t the way things were done. Challenges were presented to the Primes and planned, not issued like some teenage brawl.

The two men moved to the empty center of the hangar where they could carry out the challenge without putting the community in danger.

I tried to get closer, but my mother, who had worked her way to me and Karin during the confusion, placed a hand on my arm and shook her head. Frustrated, I stayed put as the Director prepared to take on his childhood friend.

They circled each other and it didn’t escape my notice that the pair forewent the usual ceremonial bows and words. Then they were lunging forward in a flurry of fists.

Weapons weren’t allowed in challenges because the winner needed to triumph using their own strength and hand-to-hand skills. The general consensus was that if they could defend their position and title, they were still fit to lead.

Mario landed a blow that knocked Cyril back and I tried not to cringe at the sound of hard fist hitting flesh. He recovered quickly, though, and returned a punishing volley of strikes that sent Mario reeling.

Blood streamed down where his right cheek had been split open. Mario didn’t bother to wipe it away but shook his head a little, presumably to clear it, and raised his hands again.

Even from this distance, the hate was evident on Mario's face.

A collective gasp went up around me and my mother’s grip on my arm tightened, telling me I’d missed something important.

It only took a quick glance back at the two fighting to see what had caused the commotion. Mario had produced a blade from somewhere and had gone on the defensive. The man must have lost his mind. Even if he won now, the Primes wouldn’t accept it and he’d be cast out for his actions. That would likely be the case if he lost too.

A group of hunters that hadn’t been with the missing descended on the fight, but my father waved them off.

My breath caught as he danced away from the blade, narrowly avoiding an injury that would have ended the fight and likely killed him.

On the one hand, I understood why my father had waved off the help. It showed that he wouldn’t back down, even with the odds stacked against him. If he won and the gamble paid off, there could be no doubt that he was a true leader.

But on the other hand… if he lost, he’d either be dead or, at the very least, no longer the Director.

At that moment, Mario leapt forward and succeeded in getting the blade past my father’s defenses. I watched helplessly as it sank in deep, almost to the hilt.

For one long, terrible second, I thought it was over. Then my father rallied and pushed Mario. He stumbled back long enough to give Cyril the chance he needed to yank the knife out and hurl it back.

It struck Mario in the neck.

He clapped a hand to the wound even as the blood began to fall, and he sank to his knees.

Then all hell broke loose.

9

The hunters who had spoken out against my father now attacked the ones still loyal to him.

“Go check on Dad!” I yelled to my mother, struggling to be heard over the chaos.

She nodded her head curtly and started pushing her way through the crush of people to reach him. Just before she turned, I’d gotten a good look at her face and didn’t like what I saw there.

Pure, unadulterated fear. Then the survivor in her took over and her features changed to grim determination. Despite my own terror, I did the same and directed my attention to Karin and Mark.

From their expressions, they were both still recovering from the shock of what had happened.

“We have to help,” I told them.

“How?” asked Mark.

Before I could answer, Janus appeared. “I believe there are some citizens attempting to flee,” he said calmly, motioning toward a group of people. “They would benefit from an escort. I’m sure there are more as well.”

“Alright,” I said, inclining my head. “Mark, see if Nell will go with you to find others while Karin and I help them.”

For once, he did what I asked without arguing or sputtering nervously, and I was grateful.

“Janus, do you see anyone else in distress?”

“Yes, there are many. At the moment, no less than five altercations have broken out among members of the community.”

The Cognitive’s expression had turned. His forehead wrinkled, and the features of his mouth drew down into a frown. I’d never seen him that way and it didn’t bode well for us.

“What do you think we can do?” I asked. “They’re taking sides between Mario and my father. I might make it worse just by getting in the middle.”

He nodded, taking that into consideration. “Astute observation, Miss Visaro. There is a small group of expectant mothers on the other side of the crowd. They are not under attack, but it would be best if someone made sure they got out safely.”

“Gods,” said Karin, speaking for the first time. “This is madness.”

“You’re right,” I agreed. “But we don’t have time to waste right now. Training’s officially over with.”

I gripped my staff tightly and started to make my way around, then stopped. “Janus, see if you can help calm things down. And let me know if something serious comes up.”

After he acknowledged the statement, Karin and I continued on to the women. It didn’t take us long to find them huddled together. There were only four of them and I wondered if they had come to the ceremony together or if they had sought each other out.

Not that it mattered. Each one looked terrified, but they had linked hands and were scanning their surroundings. I felt a small surge of pride that the little group wasn’t cowering. Then again, we were a colony of warriors and survivors.

I recognized one of the women, Jodi Baxter. She was one of the gardeners that tended to the greenhouse. I’d helped her a few times carrying organic material to Janus’ food synthesizer. She was in her late forties and looked aggressively pregnant, at least to my eyes.

“Jodi, we’re here to get you guys to safety inside the compound.”

At first, the woman glared at me, her gaze falling suspiciously to the powerful staff in my right hand. Then my voice seemed to register because her eyes snapped to my face. Recognition set in and relief shone in a sharp exhale.

“Lucia. It’s good to see you right now. We tried to push our way through, but…” The soon-to-be mother laid a hand on her abdomen and threw a fierce look at the ruckus. “These idiots are so caught up in brawling with each other that they’re not paying attention. We were afraid one of us would fall.”

I nodded at her. “Understandable. Don’t worry. Karin and I will clear a path. You all just stay close and keep holding hands, okay?”

“We can do that,” said one of the other women. I’d seen her around but couldn’t recall her name.

“Alright. Karin, let’s part the way.”

Together, we moved forward. It would have been easy if I could just fire off one of the staff’s power-charged attacks but doing so would put people at risk.

Instead, I started yelling, “Get out of the way! Women carrying unborn children coming through!”

At first, it was like Jodi had said. Nobody wanted to listen. Deciding I would have to get physical, I turned the staff horizontal and started pushing. Thankfully, the brace on my arm did its job and the action didn’t hurt.

This got people to move. They jumped at the feeling of something hard pressing into their backs and came around swinging to face us. Once they got a good look at the women behind us, they tried to give us room.

Finally, enough took notice of what was happening and began to help. Soon we had enough space to walk through with the quartet of mothers behind us. It had the added effect of dispersing much of the fighting.

Karin and I escorted the women all the way to the nursery.

“Will you be okay here?” I asked Jodi.

“Yes, thanks to you two,” she replied. “I’m—we’re so grateful.”

“Happy to help,” said Karin, smiling at the other woman. I thought I detected a hint of longing in her expression, but that seemed doubtful under the circumstances.

“If you need anything, reach out to Janus. He should be able to get someone here.” I hesitated a beat before continuing. “And secure the door behind us. Just to be safe.”

Jodi nodded and did just that as soon as we were out of the room.

Without the encumbered group in tow, we made it back to the hangar in time to see that most of the skirmishes had died down completely. My gaze tracked to where my father had been, but neither he nor my mother were there.

“There’s Janus,” said Karin, pointing at the stage.

The Cognitive stood there with Alma and Josef. I started for them at a brisk walk since things seemed to be calm now. Once we were closer, it became apparent that something was wrong. Josef looked stricken as he spoke to the other two while making a lot of hand movements.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is it the Director?”

Josef shook his head and I relaxed. “All the fighting was a diversion,” he said.

“A diversion for what?” asked Karin, looking from him, to Janus, to Alma.

“Fusion cores,” Alma supplied.

I stared at her in confusion. “What do you mean? What do fusion cores have to do with anything?”

“It appears that Mario's followers raided the engineering lab and took our supply of fusion cores,” Janus explained.

“How many?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“All of them,” said Josef.

Now Josef’s current state of unrest made perfect sense. A jolt of anger lanced through me and I thought of the upheaval Mario's had just delivered to the community. And for what? Fusion cores? It didn’t make sense.

“Where is the traitor?” I spat. “He needs to pay for what he’s done here.”

“I believe his men carried him to safety,” Alma said with a look of disgust. “Nero was among them.”

“We have to go after them,” I declared, looking at the rest of them. “Where are the other hunters?”

“Protecting the Director, along with your mother,” answered Alma. “A few are in the infirmary. Some… didn’t make it.”

I swallowed the fresh anger that threatened to erupt and tried to think. “And the prospus?”

Alma grimaced. “Prospus Thompson and Folson appear to be working with Costas. Nagata is missing.”

A glance at Karin told me she was just as stunned as I was. It didn’t surprise me that Allan had chosen to side with Nero’s father. I supposed Nell doing the same made sense too. They had both been so willing to follow him into danger when we’d gone down the Boneclaw tunnel.

“I’ll come with you,” announced Josef, drawing himself up.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You need to keep an eye on things and make sure nothing else was taken.”

“There are only the three of you,” he argued. “You could use another body. Janus can monitor what’s going on here.”

“What if something happens to the power?” Karin pointed out.

Janus laid a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Apprentice Braid, I think she is right. If the traitors attempt to shut me down, then this facility will be vulnerable. At the moment, only you and Prime Doyle have the knowledge to fix any serious issues.”

Josef looked like he might argue, but he relented. “Alright. How do you plan on finding them?”

“Actually, I have an idea on that,” I said, clearing my throat and pulling out the datapad. “When we found the fusion cores for the ceremony, Mark was able to detect them using scanners in the area.”

“Clever,” murmured Josef.

“Yes,” agreed Alma. “I was impressed when they pulled it off.”

“Can you do a widespread scan and find out where they are?” I asked Janus.

His form flickered for a moment as he processed the data, then it went solid again. “Facility 3. I’ve sent the information to your pad.”

“Facility 3?” I asked, somewhat dubious. “Most of that is closed off. Isn’t the power shut down too?”

I vaguely remembered something Janus had taught us long ago about the facility being blanketed with radiation. As a kid more interested in exploring, I’d tuned it out not wanting to hear about someplace we weren’t allowed to go.

It didn’t seem like the best place for a rebel hideout if you had to worry about radiation poisoning.

“Yes,” answered Jo, his brows knitting together. “Though the signal isn’t inside.”

An orange dot appeared on the map and I smiled. “None of the other prospus know about this, so we have the advantage.”

“Okay, then.” Karin blew out a breath. “Let’s go get our fusion cores back.”

* * *

The three of us stood in the darkened cave system on the path that would take us to Facility 3.

It reminded me of the final part of our Selection tests only hours before. My body was exhausted. Karin and I had been up since the early hours of morning to prepare for the day, as I was certain Alma had been, but there was nothing to be done about it.

We’d learned after a stop to the armory that Mario's men had already been there. Not much was left except a few bio-coded guns and short blades.

Josef re-coded them for us, but with a limited supply of ammunition, they wouldn’t last long if we got into a fight. Our hope was to at least scout the area Costas had taken the cores and report back.

As we moved silently down the deserted corridor, I was taken back to my youth. The Director often brought me along on scavenging trips once I was old enough, and I loved it.

Back then, the wolves had mostly kept outside and Boneclaws coming into the caves was almost unheard of. Wandering through the caves with my father had been an adventure.

Now he was receiving medical care and fighting for his life.

A hand on my arm pulled me out of my thoughts and I came to a stop to see Alma. She and Karin looked at me with concern when Alma spoke.

“Girl, you are distracted,” she observed. “You are the leader right now. Put away all the emotion and think like one.”

The older woman was right. I hadn’t even been paying attention to where we were going. The three of us stood at a fork and Alma had stopped me from walking down in the wrong direction.

“You’re right,” I acknowledged. “We need to go the other way. Sorry about that. I’m good now.”

Alma stared at me as if deciding whether to believe me, then nodded. “Good.”

I moved off, taking the left fork, and pushed all thoughts except the mission out of my mind. Now that I was paying attention, it became clear that the rebels had come this way.

Mario's people had not been careful. The whole area was cluttered and disturbed, as though it were almost intentional.

Could this be a trap? Or was Mario so confident in his men and the success of his coup that he simply didn’t care?

The former troubled me. I signaled to Karin and Alma to stop. Consulting the pad, I ushered them to a room, and together we slipped inside.

“We’re getting a little close to be talking out in the open,” I explained.

“That makes sense. What’s wrong?” Karin asked.

“It’s just… doesn’t this seem a little easy?” I asked.

I could tell neither of them had considered that possibility from their sudden looks of concern.

“A child could follow the trail they left,” I explained. “I have a bad feeling we’re walking into a trap.”

“But they don’t know we’re tracking the signal,” reasoned Karin.

“That is true,” agreed Alma. “And it’s likely that they assumed no one would be coming after them so soon. The only missing hunters that came back were with Mario. With the amount of injuries sustained and protection for your father and the Primes, there aren’t enough other hunters to mount an attack.”

“You have a point,” I conceded. “Still, I don’t like it. We should find an alternate route.”

“Good idea,” said Karin. “There has to be another way to where they’re holed up.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t. Mario had chosen his hiding spot well. The orange dot marking the fusion core’s location had stopped moving in Quadrant S. It was situated on the far side of the facility, close to the outside, and the only way to get to it was to keep going. Anything else would take us out of the way and eat up time we didn’t have.

Agreeing to keep moving, we left the room.

As I was about to take a step in the direction the map said to go, a loud thump sounded in the distance.

10

“Uh, what was that?” asked Karin, fear plain in her tone.

“If I had to guess,” I replied, “I would say that it was a Boneclaw.”

“I’d say you’re correct,” whispered Alma. “We need to move.”

“It sounded like it came from the compound,” said Karin worriedly. “Maybe we should go back? They might need us.”

“We don’t know that it came from there,” I pointed out. “For all we know, it’s headed this way.”

“And if we go back, we’ll just run into it,” she realized.

“Exactly. Let’s go. No more talking until… until it’s safe to do so.”

Alma’s mouth twitched as if she might smile at my awkward wording, then another thump sounded, closer this time, and we began to move in earnest.

The older woman had let me take the lead on our scouting operation, even though she was not only the elder, but outranked both me and Karin. If Nero had taken part in the rebellion—and with his father their leader, why wouldn’t he have—then the Primes would revoke his standing.

At least I thought they would.

I recalled Mario's exchange with Jacob Abbot, the Sustainability Prime. If they had planned this together, the Prime was in a position to help keep Nero as the next Director. Still, Abbot had appeared unprepared for the arrival of the missing hunters.

The events of the last few weeks all started to run together, even as I struggled to make sense of them. The fatigue was starting to take over and I caught myself stumbling more than once.

The distant thumps continued, and though none of us said it out loud, I was sure we were all thinking one thing. Whatever was making them was getting closer.

I checked the map constantly, both to make sure the orange dot didn’t move and to keep myself calm. We’d long since passed the point where communication with our facility was viable and that didn’t help the uncomfortable feeling in my gut.

The thumps stayed with us, getting just a little louder each time, but it almost began to fade into background noise. Almost.

They had to be Boneclaws. Frost horns certainly couldn’t make that kind of sound. Now that we knew for sure that they weren’t attacking the facility, it made even more sense to keep going.

We walked another thirty minutes before the first signs of Mario's hideout became evident. Barriers had been constructed from the debris. Mario and his people had taken anything they could find to create the makeshift barriers. The result was imposing.

Their staggered formation would prevent a large group from launching an effective attack because it wasn’t wide enough for more than one or two bodies to fit through. Moving fast wasn’t an option either. Pieces of sharp, twisted metal stuck out at odd angles sporadically. If you didn’t pay attention, one of them would leave a nasty gash that would likely stop any pursuit.

Or escape, I thought dryly.

All in all, it was a smart move.

THOM.

THOM.

I’d been so busy studying the barriers that I hadn’t noticed the thumps had gotten closer. A lot closer. And I was pretty sure there was more than one Boneclaw making them.

From the pallid look on Karin’s face and Alma’s set jaw, they had drawn the same conclusion. We all tightened our grips on the weapons we carried.

“Maybe we should hide until the creatures pass,” Karin suggested nervously, speaking under her breath.

“It might be a good idea,” I agreed, pulling out the pad to look for somewhere we could get out of sight. “I don’t feel good about going through those barriers just yet. We have no idea what’s waiting when we get past them.”

Taking down a single Boneclaw was hard enough to do with a full-size group of seasoned hunters. With just the three of us, I didn’t think we stood much of a chance against one, let alone more than that.

The map showed that the only way to bypass the barriers at this point was to double back and take a small tunnel that had been used for transport between the facilities. It did a kind of loop through the cave system and had once sported a hover rail system that shortened travel time between facilities to minutes.

Now it was a series of cave-ins and rubble, passable but dangerous. Without the rail system working, it took hours to get from one point to another. Nothing of value had ever been found in them and our people tended to avoid the tunnel altogether.

Unfortunately, it also looked to be our only option.

We jogged back toward the split, trying to move fast but stay quiet. Inside, my fight or flight instinct was going into overdrive. My body seemed to move jerkily, as if protesting running toward the danger. The good thing about the fear was that it was dumping adrenaline into my system. Sure, I was terrified, but at least I no longer felt exhausted.

THOM.

THOM.

THOM.

The thumping no longer sounded like it was far away at all. Now I could discern the scraping of claws and make out heavy breathing.

“Move!” I hissed to the others.

They didn’t need to be told twice.

The Boneclaws were already in sight when we arrived at the antechamber that would take us to the tunnels.

Three of them.

Our feet hit the cave floor with loud slaps that might as well have been a holo reading “We’re right here! Come eat us!” If they’d had eyes to see.

One of the animals stopped moving and stood erect, swiveling its large head in our direction. Its ears perked as we rounded the curve and it took off at a dead run, letting out a terrible roar that echoed all around us.

“Go!” I yelled, no longer worried about being quiet.

I didn’t have to steal a glance behind me to see that they were giving chase. The ground shook beneath us and the bellowing was starting to hurt my ears.

“There!” cried Alma, pointing.

I followed her gaze and saw the opening was barely 50 meters ahead. We all dug in, closing the distance to the tunnel, its darkened hole acting as a beacon of safety.

The Boneclaws were just behind us now. I slowed a fraction to let Karin and Alma go ahead and gripped my staff, urging it to power up. If anything, I could act as a distraction and give them more time to get away.

Not bothering to aim, I pointed it over my shoulder and let loose with a round of blue energy. There was a loud crash then an awful screaming. I couldn’t be sure if I’d hit one of the Boneclaws or knocked a part of the cave loose on top of them.

“Stupid girl!” Alma chastised me when I caught up to them. “They could’ve killed you.”

“But they didn’t,” I pointed out. “And we need to keep moving. I don’t think whatever I did will hold them back long.”

She gave me a dithering look but nodded.

“There’s only one way to go,” Karin said, gesturing toward a path. “The other one’s caved in.”

Something about the pile of rubble looked off to me, but there wasn’t time to check it out and we took off at a run again.

The thumping had resumed but didn’t sound like it was in the tunnel, and I wondered just how much damage I’d done.

Within a few minutes, the adrenaline seemed to have worn off and we’d all slowed to a fast jog. The tunnel curved, then split in two directions.

Again, there was only one way to go.

As we passed the second cave-in, I finally realized what was bothering me about the natural blockade and stopped.

“What is it, Lucia?” asked Karin, looking exasperated. “We don’t exactly have time to stop and study the scenery.”

“This looks recent,” I said, turning to them both. “I think someone did this.”

“What for?” she asked, the exasperated look giving way to one of trepidation.

“To herd us,” Alma supplied.

“You’re exactly right,” said a familiar voice. “That was easier than it should have been.”

Bright lights flicked on in front of us and I was temporarily blinded by their sudden appearance. I blinked until they adjusted then stepped back.

Mario stepped out of the open tunnel and aimed a rifle at Alma. The blast echoed in the tunnel and her body jerked backward with the force of the round.

“No!” I screamed, turning and dropping to her side. Blood covered the ground next to her and her eyes fluttered from the shock of the ruthless attack, but I could see it wasn’t fatal. She was still breathing.

I didn’t see what happened next. One second, I was moving to stand, then someone howled in rage at the same time, another echoing blast filled the passage, and I found myself in the dirt next to Alma.

Disoriented, I pushed up on my knees, groping for my staff. Karin stood in front of me, holding her gun in Mario's direction. I realized she must have shoved me down because he was standing in a similar fashion, his face pulled tight with rage.

“That was very stupid, Miss Riddell.”

Without another word, he squeezed the trigger.

Karin jerked back like Alma did, and then fell.

I felt frozen, unable to move, even after her body landed with a heavy, limp thud.

I scrambled over to her and tried to staunch the flow of blood coming from the gaping wound in her chest, but it was useless.

Her eyes went wide as her breath rattled and came faster. I gripped her hands. “Karin!”

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing but came. Her hands went still in mine, and I watched as the life left her.

11

“You bastard.” I could hear the anguish in my voice but didn’t care. “I’m going to make you pay for this.”

Mario barked out a laugh, as though I had told him a joke. “All by yourself? I doubt it.”

The sheen of unshed tears collecting in my eyes obscured my vision, but I found the staff in the dirt and used it to push into a standing position.

“Ah ah, don’t do anything rash,” Mario warned me. He tilted his head at his men then pointed at Alma. “Get her up.”

Two of them rushed forward and helped her to her feet. I was both surprised and grateful that they didn’t manhandle her. Apparently, she still commanded respect due to her status as an elder and skilled hunter.

The older woman groaned with the movement but stood proud. Our eyes met and Alma nodded slightly to let me know she was alright. Then her gaze drifted downward and went wide with shock before going hard with fury at the sight of Karin’s lifeless form.

I felt the same pain and anger but her earlier words came back to me.

Put away all the emotion.

So, I swallowed the maelstrom of rage inside me and turned to Mario with a flat stare. I had a plan but no way to communicate it to Alma without alerting him.

“All of this is going to come crashing down around you,” I told him, gesturing wide with my arms outstretched in an encompassing motion and hoping she got the message.

Mario shrugged in a manner that suggested my threat didn’t worry him, then winced. I could just see a bandage poking out of his jumpsuit from the wound my father had inflicted using the traitor’s own knife. “We have all the cores that were in the facility. My followers have been scouring the caves for more. Without an energy source, the colony will be forced to turn to me. And now that I have you, Visaro has even more incentive to surrender.”

I had to admit it was a good plan. Disgusting and shameful to be sure, but smart. As soon as my father learned that Mario had me as a bargaining piece, he would do whatever it took to get me back.

“You’re no leader,” I spat. “Forcing people to obey you will never work.”

A few of his guards exchanged knowing looks behind him.

“I won’t force them. Everyone will have a choice. If they don’t want to follow me, then they can try their luck outside the compound.” His eyes dropped to my weapon.

“That staff was impressive at the ceremony. Give it to me,” he ordered.

My grip tightened possessively on the weapon and it took all of my training not to accidentally activate it with my murderous thoughts. Even if Nero had been chosen as the next Director on his own merit, I had earned my place as a hunter. The staff was mine and no one else’s. Least of all, Mario.

“The ceremony you rigged,” I accused, trying to keep him talking. I stole a glance back in the direction we’d come. With all the racket I hadn’t heard the thumping, but the beasts couldn’t be far.

Mario laughed again, a deep arrogant sound, telling me that my suspicions had been correct. “Yes, of course. The son taking the Regency from the daughter just as Cyril did from me was a sweet moment indeed.”

Part of me still hadn’t believed that could be the reasoning behind the man’s actions. To hear him say it now still was baffling in its simplicity.

“That’s what all this is over?” I asked incredulously. “Just so you could make your son the next leader over some stupid grudge?”

Where were the Boneclaws? Surely, I hadn’t taken them all out with that one minor attack. Mario wouldn’t let me stonewall for much longer.

“Of course not. I only want what’s best for the colony. Your father had every opportunity to act like a leader, but he refused to fulfill his duty. To take action. Even after Nero led you to those traps and he saw what the Boneclaws were capable of.”

The older man shook his head in disgust, and I angled slightly to catch any hint of the Boneclaws.

“You can stop looking for the monsters,” he said. “They aren’t coming. They’ve been…diverted.”

“I’m not,” I lied, trying to think quickly. “There are more hunters coming.”

“Even if that were true, they’re poorly armed. I made sure of it,” he said cockily. “Now, the staff, girl. Stop stalling, and don’t do anything stupid. Alma will suffer for your mistakes.”

Mario turned his greedy eyes back to the staff. I wanted to shoot him, but his men would kill me and Alma before we’d be able to get away. I couldn’t take that chance.

“Just promise me you won’t hurt her or my parents,” I said in my best pleading voice, even though inside I bristled at his casual use of the word “girl.” Alma was the only one allowed to call me that.

“You have my word,” he sneered. “So long as they fall in line.”

It was now or never. Saying a quick prayer to gods I wasn’t sure even existed, I adjusted my grip on the staff and shuffled forward, shoulders sagging in defeat. Then, between Karin’s fallen body and his outstretched hands, I made my move.

The staff’s true power had never been fully tested before. It had all been low power experiments in the lab, and even during the demonstration at the ceremony I’d only given it enough juice to take out the dummy.

Now I concentrated intently, bringing the staff to life in my hands, its blue light flowing up the shaft and into the barrel.  Sparks of plasma coalesced to form an orb, small at first, then it grew steadily larger.

“Stop her!” bellowed Mario even as he dove for cover to protect himself.

They didn’t get the chance.

By now, the energy sphere was the size of a Boneclaw’s fist and glowed brilliantly, washing the tunnel in pale blue light.

With a single, focused thought, I unleashed the staff. The orb of fusion energy punched into the air above us with a resounding boom.

The resulting shockwave knocked me backward, along with several others. For a terrible moment, I lay there thinking that my plan had failed. Then a crunch sounded, drawing my attention to the icy ceiling where the blast had hit.

Cracks rapidly webbed out from the epicenter and a large chunk of rock broke free, falling to the ground and shattering in a thunderous burst. I jumped to my feet to look for Alma as tremors loosed more pieces of the ceiling.

To my relief, I spotted her about twenty meters away, struggling to stand. One of the two men that had been guarding her lay unmoving on the floor, partially obscured by a pile of boulders. The other was nowhere to be seen.

I took a step toward Alma, only to be stopped by a loud, grating noise from above. Another section of the ceiling began to splinter and rained down more debris, cutting off my path. A large metal support came down nearby, followed by a high pitch scream and a streak of red across the ground.

With no other recourse, I was forced to leap back or risk being crushed to death. Alma disappeared in a cloud of dust and rock while shouts echoed as everyone in the vicinity tried to get to safety. As it collapsed further, I sprinted toward the open tunnel ahead and threw myself inside. My feet slipped out from under me and sent me into a sideways tumble. The staff flew from my hands as I shoved them in front of me to break the fall.

As rubble continued to rain down, I crawled deeper into the tunnel and thought maybe I should have scaled back the power of the blast.

The cave finally grew quiet but for the moans and occasional sound of shifting rock. I tried to stand and found that my foot had become wedged between two large boulders.

Impossibly, some of the oil lamps still stood, but the weak light was made dimmer by the dust now filling this portion of the tunnel.

I felt around in the gloom, looking for anything that might help free me, but there was nothing useful. The staff had fallen somewhere out of sight and reach. If I’d had it, I could have just blasted myself free.

Some warrior you are, I thought bitterly.

Stuck, I decided to wait in silence. If luck was on my side, Mario was dead and the survivors wouldn’t bother looking for me. I hoped Alma had gotten clear. The woman was usually spry, but she’d taken a round to the chest and that was enough to bring a man in his prime down. Still, I knew the older woman to be scrappy, and if anyone could find a way out of that mess, it would be her.

When my eyes finally began to adjust to the darkness, I twisted around to check out my surroundings and spotted my staff. It didn’t look damaged at all and lay just a few meters away.

Excitement coursed through me at the sight and I stretched an arm out toward it. My elation didn’t last long. It was still another arm’s length away. It remained out of reach, no matter what I did.

I’d just resigned myself to failure when overlapping voices came from the entrance behind me.

“I want her found, dammit!” yelled Mario, dashing any hope that my stunt had taken him out. It hadn’t been the goal but would’ve been a nice benefit.

With nowhere to go, I lay completely still as multiple sets of footsteps tracked closer to my position. They must have had lamps because the gloom turned a kind of yellow color and grew bright enough that I could make out the moving shapes as people.

Someone passed by on my left side but didn’t see me. I hoped that meant I was in the clear, but they were soon joined by another of Mario's men.

“Here!” one of the men called out, alerting the others. “I’ve found her!”

It didn’t take long for Mario to make his way through the destruction, and he was soon standing over me with a grim expression. “That could have killed all of us, you stupid child.”

“I thought you wanted action?” I asked snidely, despite my current helpless position.

“Hah!” he snorted ruefully in response. A gash was evident on one cheek, but that seemed to be his only injury, much to my disappointment. “Excellent point. You must take after your mother. Maybe you would have made a passable leader after all, though I suppose we’ll never know.”

Mario unslung his rifle from his back and stared down at me with unconcealed hatred. My last thought before everything went black was wondering how I had never noticed it before.

* * *

I woke sometime later in a state of confusion, though it soon became apparent that I was on the floor of a room. My head throbbed painfully where Mario had hit me with the butt of his rifle, but it wasn’t bleeding. A quick self-assessment didn’t reveal any other injuries except for my ankle, but even that was just a dull ache.

I took stock of my surroundings. The room was lit with more oil lamps casting the same dim light, but it was enough to see that I wasn’t alone.

There were perhaps two dozen others crammed into the space. Most appeared to be sleeping and I could only make out a few familiar faces, though none of the prone forms looked like Alma. Perhaps she had made it out after all.

“Lucia!” a familiar voice whispered from somewhere in the semidarkness.

“Mark? Is that you? We thought you were dead.” A shape moved close and a wave of relief washed over me at the sight of a friend.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied, keeping his voice low and studying me carefully with one eye. The other was swollen shut, bruised a dark shade of purple, and his top lip looked puffy. “You had us worried when we couldn’t wake you up.”

“Just needed a nap,” I joked. “How long have I been here?”

“A couple hours at least,” Mark answered, then gestured around him. “Hard to tell in this room.”

“Did Alma come in with me?” I asked, not sure what answer I hoped to hear. If she’d been brought along with us, that would mean she was alive, but captive. If not, then her fate was uncertain, but hope existed that she had made it out and would be coming with reinforcements.

Mark shook his head. “No, was she with you?”

I nodded, then found the movement made me dizzy and stopped. “Yeah. Mario led us right into a trap. I tried to give her a chance to escape by causing a cave in.”

Mark stared at me in disbelief. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Didn’t know what else to do,” I said, offering him a weak smile. “I just hope she’s okay. Mario shot her before it all went down.” My throat closed at the memory and I had to blink away tears thinking of Karin. I hated the thought of her body being left there alone in the tunnel, probably buried under the debris in a rocky tomb.

“I’m not surprised,” Mark replied tightly. “But Alma’s tough. If anyone could survive something like that, it’s her,” he promised.

“Funny, I thought the exact same thing,” I said, forcing a smile. “I have to tell you something. Karin…” I trailed off, unable to form the words.

Mark’s expression grew concerned and he looked at me with searching eyes. “What happened? One of the guards said…”

I grimaced and he trailed off, his own features taking on a hard look I didn’t know the prospus was capable of.

“Mario killed her,” I said angrily. “He didn’t even have to. They had us trapped and outnumbered. He could have wounded her instead.” The words sounded wobbly as I said them, and I could feel my face burning. I paused, trying to calm down and get my emotions under control. I was no good to anyone like this. “That traitor needs to answer for what he’s done. How many other people are locked up here?”

“A couple dozen, give or take, in another room. All of us refused to join Costas so they threw us in here. Got the same story from those that were here before us. A few were taken prisoner on hunting or scavenging trips. They said he gave them the choice of joining the rebellion or becoming a captive.”

“Have you heard anything about the Boneclaws?” I sat up too fast in my urgency and the room spun again, but I ignored it.

“No, though I have heard them.”

I went still at his words. That meant they were still close by and I had a bad feeling they weren’t just exploring the caves. Mario had something to do with them, I just didn’t know what. “Heard them how?” I asked, hoping he could shed some light on the puzzle.

Mark quivered and his next words came in a rush. “Just before you got here, the guards came and took someone. Then the thumping started. And the shrieking. It sounded really close.” His voice went even lower, so I had to lean in to hear him. “According to everyone else, that’s been happening every day. Something they called a Reckoning. I don’t know what Mario is up to exactly, but I think it involves them.”

“Me too,” I agreed, relieved he’d come to the conclusion on his own. “It was like they herded us right where Mario wanted us. Then he said something about diverting them. Is it possible he’s found a way to control them?”

His eyes widened for a second at the thought. “I don’t think so. Maybe—”

The door to the room opened and the lights went bright, stopping Mark mid-sentence as Nero entered.

12

Allan and another man named Claude Benson filed into the makeshift prison. Claude was one of our mechanics and someone who had never shown any kind of disloyalty before.

It was disheartening to see just how many people Mario had convinced or forced to join him. Were they really so unhappy with Cyril’s leadership?

“Nero said to get her and meet him back at the lab in five minutes. She’s over there,” said Allan, pointing in my direction before turning and exiting the room again.

His cronies made their way over to me and I stared defiantly up at them. “I see you’re still following Costas around like a little brother, Folson.”

“Don’t make this hard, Visaro,” Allan advised, holding up a pair of restraints. “He just wants to talk.”

I snorted at that but held my wrists out and allowed him to pull me up. All the commotion woke some of the other prisoners, one of them another face I knew very well.

Prime Keyan Lambert. I had to control the shock I felt at seeing a colony member of the highest respect being held prisoner and sitting on a dirty floor. He seemed out of place, especially with his proper attire. The Prime was even still wearing his shiny silver heart pin, though his black jacket was now dusty and rumpled.

“That is the Director’s daughter you have in cuffs, Prospus Folson,” he said sternly, seemingly unaware of his current predicament. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“Shut up, old man. You have no power here,” Allan retorted, then grinned. “I have always wanted to say that.”

“He’s still your Elder,” I snapped, pissed at my peer for his treatment of Lambert, who had only ever been kind to me.

“You’re no one either, Visaro. Now get moving,” he ordered, shoving me forward.

Murmurs of protest rose up around the room when I stumbled.

“Coward,” someone muttered.

“Pushing around a defenseless girl like that, you should be ashamed!” another person called out.

“Quiet, or you’ll be next for the Reckoning,” Allan threatened.

There was that word again. Whatever it meant to them, it was enough to have the room falling silent again. With Allan to one side and Claude the other, I was escorted out.

Fatigue, paired with a pounding headache, had me dragging my feet as Allan led me through a maze of corridors. We’d been tracking toward the fusion core facility before the altercation with Mario, so this had to be the outer fringes of it.

I wanted to be more observant, maybe memorize all the turns we took or keep an eye out for the stolen cores, but it was a struggle to just put one foot in front of the other. Allan needn’t have bothered with the cuffs, though he seemed to take great pleasure in dragging me forward if I slowed down too much.

We arrived at another room that looked like Josef’s lab. It was mostly bare, stripped of anything useful, but it did boast a few functional tables and sufficient lighting.

Nero stood at one of them, my staff in his hands. If I hadn’t been so exhausted and sore, I might have tried to rip it from his grasp, though knowing him, that was exactly what he wanted. The fact that he was even touching my weapon boiled my blood, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“Hello, Luce.” He smiled disarmingly, but he had to know it was wasted on me.

It was no secret that I’d never found the guy attractive as so many others had. Now my indifference had turned to something very near hate.

“Don’t call me that,” I bit out. “We’re not friends.”

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he said, almost wearily. “It’s not like I planned for this. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but they brought it on themselves.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak so I clenched my jaw to keep from screaming at him.

“Look,” Nero said with a hefty sigh, “just tell me how to work the staff and you can go back to hanging out with the other exiles.”

The cuffs prevented me from crossing my arms, but I lifted my chin defiantly and didn’t deign to speak. When it became obvious to him that I wasn’t going to respond, Nero’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, have it your way. If you refuse to help, Mark and all the other prisoners will go to their Reckoning sooner rather than later.”

“Whatever that means,” I replied indignantly, hoping he would explain.

Nero was a lot of things, but I couldn’t see him ruthlessly murdering helpless people just because I refused to give up my staff. Still, there was something in his eyes that gave me pause. He looked… unhinged.

“You’ll find out the hard way if you don’t do as my father asked.” The charming smile melted away as if it had been nothing more than a mask, and it was replaced by an unpleasant leer.

“What, you want the fusion core out of it?” I asked in attempt to distract him. “Sounded to me like you have enough already.”

“Actually, no. My father told me what you did with it in the old hover rail tunnels. He wants it to use against the people opposing him.”

The words, and the casual way with which he said them, chilled me to the core. I knew with every ounce of my being that he and Mario couldn’t get their hands on the staff.

“I won’t help you,” I said.

“Get Prime Lambert and one more,” he ordered Allan and Claude.

Allan grunted and left the room with Claude.

“You’ve taken a Prime as one of your prisoners,” I said sharply. “That’s insane. You’ve really gone off the deep end.”

Nero lifted a shoulder in a perfect imitation of his father. “The old man voted against me in favor of you. Almost turned the others too. Now, move,” he said, pulling out a handgun and jerking the weapon sideways.

I eyed it warily, not wanting to turn my back on the less than stable prospus. “If you’re going to kill me, at least face me.”

“Quit being dramatic. I’m going to show you exactly why you need to rethink your loyalties.”

Deciding I was probably safe for now, I obeyed.

Outside the lab, we waited for Allan and Claude to return with their charges: Prime Lambert and an old woman I recognized as Laurell Kimble. Neither looked to be in bad shape, though I wanted to say something about them keeping an elderly woman locked up.

Laurell was a retired elder who had been a legendary hunter in her heyday and the previous Defense Prime. At 159, she was the oldest person in the community, but she shuffled along at a spry pace that belied her advanced age and I kept my mouth shut.

We moved out of the main corridors of the facility and into one of the many smaller passages. It didn’t take long to reach a large cavern that had been lit with more floodlights.

Mario and a group of his followers stood just inside the mouth of the cave. I recognized all of the faces, though I didn’t know any of them by more than a first name.

Except for one. Prime Elias Doyle stood with Mario, who grinned broadly at his son when we entered. Together, they walked over to meet us, and Mario clapped Nero on the back.

“Son, Tiberius will be here soon. Make sure the new recruits are prepared.”

Nero nodded and moved off, stopping at a small cluster of soldiers not much older than us.

“Elias, what are you doing?” asked Lambert coldly.

Prime Doyle ignored his peer and turned to Mario. “I need to get back to the compound before my presence is missed. I don’t have the stomach for this anyway. Let me know when it’s all done, then I will inform Visaro of his daughter’s… disposition.”

Mario gave a slight bow. “Of course. I’ll see you out.”

The pair walked off, leaving the three of us alone to await whatever they had planned. A few guards, Allan among them, blocked the exit. Averting my gaze, I scanned the area in hopes of finding a means of escape.

The first thing I noticed were the tunnels leading into the cavern.

Too many to be natural. Over half a dozen of the openings dotted the walls, with perhaps 20 meters between them. I wondered if some led back to our compound but quickly dismissed the idea. Even if we all took off at a dead run, the rebels would catch us before we’d even made it halfway.

The second thing I noticed was the blood.

Dried splatters of it coated the floor in the middle of the cavern and the tightness in my belly only grew. It looked like I had been wrong about Nero ruthlessly killing people.

“Are you okay, Miss Visaro?” asked Lambert, drawing my attention away from the macabre view.

“Yes, Prime Lambert.” I nodded at him, then Laurell. “Though I should be the one asking you and Elder Kimble.”

Laurell scoffed. “Elder? I’m still in my prime!” The old woman smirked at her own joke, then grimaced. “Though I have to admit that this place gives me an inauspicious feeling.”

You and me both, I thought.

“We’re fine,” Lambert assured me, smiling kindly at Laurell. “The rebels pretended to escort us to safety after Mario issued his challenge, then they forced us to come here.”

“Once their intentions became clear, I told them if they wanted a fight, I’d give them one,” Laurell said vehemently. “But they wouldn’t. Too scared, I suppose. Instead, they threatened to hurt my granddaughter, the cowards. I couldn’t have that.”

Fierceness burned in her eyes and I had a feeling the old hunter wouldn’t take kindly to me patting her on the back, so I crossed my arms as best as I could in cuffs, and nodded in agreement. “Yes, they are cowards. However, as much as I hate to admit it, the attack was well coordinated. They must have been planning this a long time.”

“I should have seen this coming,” Lambert said wistfully. “The Prime Doyle had been acting oddly this last month. He had been introducing ideas to the others that concerned me. When I confronted him, I was ostracized.”

“You can’t blame yourself,” I told him. “Mario is mad for power and will do anything to get it.”

“Not quite anything,” Mario said, having returned with Nero. “Prime Lambert, you are here for a reason. I realize that you were asked to betray your chosen leader without being given all the facts. Forgive me, Elder. I regret that you will be part of the demonstration, but it is for the good of the entire community.”

A thumping echoed in the distance. Everyone tensed, shifting nervously and exchanging anxious glances. The feeling of dread took root inside me and every instinct I possessed told me to run.

“Take the Elder to meet her Reckoning,” Mario ordered.

Two guards came forward and made as if they were going to grab her.

“Young men, if you lay a finger on me, I will break it.” Laurell spoke in a light tone and smiled at the men, but no one could mistake it for pleasant. Both men hesitated, then reached out again.

“Leave her alone!” I shouted. “Take us back now and I promise to unlock the staff for you.”

Allan and Claude stopped me from springing forward and I grunted in frustration until Laurell shushed me.

“Quiet, child. I’m old and bored. You, on the other hand, are just beginning.” She shook her head at my desperate look then lifted her chin at Mario. “I’ll go to my death on my own two feet.”

The thumping was growing steadily louder, but the old hunter didn’t look bothered in the least.

Mario nodded at the guards who were looking at him for direction. “You are a true warrior indeed, Elder.”

“Shut up, Costas,” the old woman said, then turned her back on him and followed the men to the center of the cavern.

“Stop this, please!” I begged, throwing Mario and Nero a pleading look. They ignored it. I didn’t even know exactly what this was, but I had a pretty good guess.

Murmurs of dissent sounded behind us, causing Mario to turn and glare. From the looks of fear and troubled expressions it seemed not everyone was on board with this madness. I remembered what Mark had said about the choice everyone had been given and felt a sudden surge of hope. Maybe some of them could be convinced to turn against their new leader.

The cavern shook then with the all too familiar sound. Laurell stood in the center of it, back turned to us. She rolled her shoulders and straightened so that she no longer hunched and I was impressed even as my heart filled with sorrow.

THOM.

THOM.

THOM.

Fear filled my belly as the thumps grew louder. It sounded like they were coming from the largest of the other tunnels. As I watched, the ground visibly jumped under my feet, bouncing smaller rocks into the air, and it dawned on me that the tunnels weren’t Eternal made.

I gasped as a massive forearm broke through the dark, followed quickly by the rest of the large body, and flanked by two smaller ones.

The heaviest Boneclaw I had ever seen stood before us, its colossal body seeming to fill the cavern, so tall its head almost touched the ceiling. It swept a gaze around the area then directed a hungry look at Laurell.

Wait, that can’t be right.

She hadn’t moved an inch. How did it know where she was?

I looked on in horrified awe as the monster walked directly to stand before Laurell’s small form. Like the rest of the creatures, it had long arms and short legs, powerfully built to carry the animal’s massive weight in the Boneclaw’s signature loping gait. Its elbows bent outward as it lowered its head to sniff at Laurell. The old woman didn’t flinch.

While it seemed to inspect her, I tried desperately to wrap my head around what I was seeing. Why hadn’t the beast attacked yet?

Then the Boneclaw snorted and straightened, its thick back and arm muscles bunching visibly even beneath taut skin and thin fur with the movement. It swung around to face Mario and took a step closer.

As it came toward us, even the cavern seemed to yield. The ground rumbled and the walls trembled with each step, just as surely everyone else did.

That was when I saw the monster’s face clearly. It had eyes. Not the empty sockets of its smaller counterparts, nor the milky vestigial organs of the one I’d seen in the archive footage. These were the same blue as mine and every other person in the compound.

It wasn’t the fearsome glare, or even the fact that it had eyes that terrified me. What sent a shiver down my spine was the intelligence behind them. His eyes weren’t darting around the room searching for threats or prey. He was looking with calm intent. He was regarding Mario.

Instead of the usual three talons, this creature had razor sharp claws closer in composition to fingernails. The appendage closely resembled my own hand, complete with four fingers and an opposable thumb.

I was still taking everything in when the Boneclaw settled down on his haunches with something like annoyance on its face.

And it spoke.

“You insult me, Mario.” His voice—a decidedly male tone—reverberated through the cavern, the deep timbre strident and as penetrating as the darkness from which he’d emerged.

No one made a single sound. Either everyone in the cavern was already aware of the creature or they were too scared to speak.

Except for Mario, who stepped forward, though I noticed he didn’t stray far from the tunnel we’d come through. “One person every day. That’s the agreement, Tiberius.”

My brain exploded with questions. Had Mario done this somehow? Was this some kind of hybrid? Could there be more than one?

I may have hated the man but the fact that he could talk to the hulking creature without shaking was impressive.

The Boneclaw, whose name was apparently Tiberius, looked back at Laurel and curled its lip. “The old one hardly qualifies.”

Something like a snort sounded like it came from the Elder, but I couldn’t be sure.

“She’s a retired hunter who has killed many of your kind in her lifetime,” Mario assured him.

“Bastard,” I snapped, unable to stay quiet. The impressed feeling I’d had a moment ago faded with his words. “Only a coward would sacrifice an Elder like this.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I saw that my outburst had drawn the Boneclaw Tiberius’ scrutiny.

He studied me for a few heartbeats before shifting his gaze back to Mario. “I want this one.”

“I’m not his to give away,” I said. “But, I will trade places with Laurell. Gladly.”

“No, she is instrumental in making Cyril surrender,” answered Mario.

This seemed to interest Tiberius more than my outburst had. “His offspring?”

Mario nodded.

“Very well. I will take her when this is over,” said the monster.

Mario shrugged evasively. “We’ll see.”

Satisfied for the interim, Tiberius emitted a series of clicks and grunts to his soldiers, then picked up Laurell in a single, giant hand. She fit easily inside it and I prayed this experience would soon be over.

To my relief, the Boneclaws returned to the tunnel they had emerged from, shaking the cavern with as much force as when they had arrived.

13

The walk back to the part of the facility Mario and his rebels were using as a base of operations felt heavy and tense without Laurell’s presence. Even Prime Lambert had a shell-shocked look, walking as if on autopilot. No one spoke and the only sound was that of dragging feet on the ground.

I no longer cared that I was exhausted and sore. The event in the cavern had rattled me, but it had also opened my eyes. On the surface, it looked as though Mario was only looking out for the colony’s survival, but I believed there was more to it.

The appearance of the Prime Engineer had been disconcerting, to say the least. I doubted that anyone at the compound knew of his deceit and I had no way to warn them. He would be able to feed the people there selective information and sway opinions. Doyle could make Mario the hero in all this.

That last thought both scared and angered me. The Prime had not only failed to uphold the responsibility of his station, but he was also going out of his way to betray the sworn leader of the colony and its people. The question was, why?

Everyone’s lackluster attitude only added to my suspicion that Mario's hold over them was out of fear, not loyalty. Seeing him so easily sacrifice a member of the community as revered as Laurell had to have bothered others as much as me.

Now that I knew what the Reckoning entailed, it was more important than ever to get everyone out of here. I wanted to get back to Mark and fill him in.

When we left the caves and entered the facility again, Mario ordered everyone to stop. “Put Lambert back with the others,” he instructed. “I want a word with Miss Visaro.”

Allan did as instructed, and Nero remained by his father’s side.

“Alone,” Mario said pointedly, turning to his son.

“Do you think that’s wise?”

Mario glared at him. “Don’t question me, Nero. Father or not, I’m in charge.”

Nero nodded tightly, then spun on his heel and left.

Two guards stayed with us as he led me to a room, presumably to protect Mario, but remained outside. Either he didn’t see me as a threat or didn’t think I’d try anything to avoid putting anyone else at risk. He was on the mark about the latter. I had indeed learned the lesson, though it only added to his list of crimes in my head.

Inside his office, Mario waved a hand genially at a chair facing a large desk as though we were having a casual meeting. The space he had commandeered was overly large, and nearly half of the room was empty. When he took the big chair on the other side of the desk, I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes at his own sense of self-importance.

“Do you understand now?” he asked, leaning forward and steepling his fingers, imploring me with excited eyes.

“Understand what?” I retorted. “That you sacrificed your own people to the Boneclaws?”

He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “I had hoped you would see it differently. Then you could have gone to your father and made him see reason.”

“What reason?” My tone was rife with disdain. “You didn’t have to do any of this. Innocent people are dying under your command here. Purposefully. Why didn’t you bring this to the Director?”

“I did,” he replied flatly. “Cyril didn’t believe me. I don’t suppose I can blame him there. A seeing, talking Boneclaw? It sounds preposterous.”

I thought of my own shock, first at realizing that Tiberius had working eyes, then again when he’d spoken. The two of them seemed to have a civil relationship, which told me this had been going on for some time.

“How long have you known?” I asked.

“Months. Just after the first group went missing. I was sent to track them down. And Tiberius. He was just sitting there as if he’d been waiting for me to come along.”

“He left the trail, didn’t he?”

Mario nodded. “Of course, but I didn’t realize that until later.”

“What did he want?” I asked. “In the cavern, you mentioned an agreement.”

“Tiberius wanted us to stop killing the Boneclaws for good. I told him I wasn’t in charge but that I would talk to the person who was.”

“And he understood everything you were saying?” I asked, remembering how Tiberius had spoken our language flawlessly.

“Oh yes. Tiberius told me that he had been born different, though the ability to speak came later. He learned by observing us for years.”

I looked at Mario sharply. “He was watching us?”

He nodded, a note of admiration in his expression. “It’s quite impressive, really, learning our language by ear alone. Although I’m amazed no one spotted him before.”

I thought about that for a moment. “I guess it would have been easy for him to hide in the valley, especially in a snowstorm. We already knew their hearing was superior. All he’d have to do was sit back and blend in. Are there any more like him?”

I swallowed my distaste since Mario was being so forthcoming. The dialogue between us had turned almost conversational. The way he spoke reminded me of someone who had been dying to tell a secret, and finally could.

“Not that I know of. Tiberius is one of a kind. At least as far as we can tell,” he answered, looking pensive. “When I tried to tell your father and the Primes, they brushed me off. Thought I was delirious from being outside too long.”

“And we kept killing them,” I guessed. “But we don’t actively hunt them, it’s only in self-defense,” I pointed out.

Mario raised an eyebrow and gave me a pointed look. “So, the Boneclaw you killed on your last hunt attacked you first?”

“No,” I admitted. He had me there. That particular Boneclaw had been eating the frost horn we were tracking.

Now that I thought about it, I couldn’t remember a single instance of a Boneclaw attack that didn’t start with us. Had it always been that way?

I shifted uncomfortably at the memory of the keening wails coming from the four Boneclaws that had entered the gorge. It irked a little to know that my misgivings had been correct. Even if they didn’t all speak like Tiberius, there had to be some familial connection between the creatures.

“When Tiberius learned that the killings were still going on, he attacked a hunting party. The next time we met, he showed me the tunnel they’d created. He said the cave systems and our compound were no longer safe until we stopped attacking and repaid our blood debt. He wanted a tribute every day until our dead equaled theirs.”

“Which you agreed to,” I said, disgusted again.

“What choice did I have?” Mario asked, throwing his hands up. “It’s better to lose a few than to die out completely.”

“Where did Karin fit into that plan?” I said bitterly.

“That was circumstance. A mistake I deeply regret.” He paused, a mournful expression on his face, then continued. “I have it on good authority that your father will make a full recovery. That means he’s still the Director.”

“I know what you’re going to ask,” I said, holding up a hand to stop him. “And the answer is no. I won’t help you kill more people.”

“What if the death of one could save the colony?” Mario asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” I didn’t like the gleam in his eye.

“If I deliver your father to Tiberius, the debt is settled.”

“No!” I whispered, feeling sick to my stomach. “There has to be another way.”

“See? You are just like him. Unwilling to make the hard decision for the good of the whole.”

“Would you give up Nero?” I countered.

Whatever civility we had during our conversation vanished and Mario fixed a hard stare on me. “That’s irrelevant, Miss Visaro. And you’re going to help, whether you want to or not. Now, as far as the staff goes? You will do as you’re told.”

I glared at him. “I don’t understand why you need it. You seem to be in control of everything here just fine with the other weapons you stole.”

Mario blinked, then his lips twitched up into a hunter’s smile, as if he had prey in his sights. “As intriguing as Tiberius is, he’s too dangerous to be left alive. With the power we saw on display in the hover tunnel, I think he can be killed with it.”

Mario leaned back in his seat. “If you refuse, I will send someone you care about for each Reckoning until you agree. I think I’ll start with Mark. Do we have a deal?”

I nodded, furious.

“Good. I’m aware you’ve had a long day. Get a few hours rest, then you can start.”

* * *

I caught sight of Nell on my way from Mario's office, but she wouldn’t meet my eye. In fact, the other prospus kept her head down and pretended not to notice me at all.

One of the guards handed me food and a container of water before ushering me back into the room they were using as a jail. When I stumbled in, the people nearest to the door cringed back.

What’s going on? I wondered, then scanned the faces looking for Mark. When I didn’t see him right away, I worried Mario had done something with him.

“Lucia, over here.”

I let out a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice and made my way over to one of the far walls. He was sitting on a mat and patted the empty one beside him. I took it gratefully and sank down next to him.

“I was worried when you didn’t come back,” Mark said, giving me a searching look.

Not wanting everyone around us to hear what I had to say, I told him in hushed whispers what had transpired in the last few hours. By the time I’d finished, my friend looked stunned.

“And here I thought they were making it up,” he said.

“Making it up? You knew about this?” The question came out like an accusation, which I instantly regretted.

“Only just after you left,” Mark said, his voice taking on a defensive tone. “Will Butler heard the guards talking when they let him out for a restroom break.”

Recalling the discontent I’d noticed in the cavern, it made sense that the guards would have been talking about what happened. It also explained why everyone had been so jumpy when I entered. No one wanted to be next.

I opened the ready-to-eat meal that had been shoved at me, recognizing it as one made by Janus’ food synthesizer. It annoyed me that on top of everything else, Mario had raided the compound’s food supply. What else had he taken?

Dim light provided by oil lanterns didn’t offer much of a view, but I didn’t see Prime Lambert anywhere. As cramped as the room was, they probably had another.

“Look,” I said, talking around a mouthful of food. “I only agreed to help with the staff to buy some time.”

“You want to come up with a plan,” Mark guessed. “Do you have anything in mind?”

“Not yet,” I admitted, then finished off the meager meal before speaking again. “My brain is running on vapor right now.”

“I’ve gotten some sleep here and there. Why don’t you do the same and I’ll try to work on something in the meantime.”

“It feels wrong to sleep in the middle of everything going on,” I said, chewing on my bottom lip.

“You’re no good to anyone in your current state,” Mark said loftily, reminding me of Prime Lambert. He always had a precise way of speaking that sounded stuffy, though not in a bad way.

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that,” I said, trying and failing to suppress a yawn.

The events of the day were certainly catching up to me. Whatever energy I’d gleaned from the forced power nap was long gone and exhaustion had me struggling to keep my eyes open.

“Sleep. I’ll wake you if anything important happens,” Mark promised.

“Alright. Don’t let me sleep too long, okay?”

He smiled wryly. “With these mats it won’t be a problem.”

Unable to fight it any longer, I curled up and let the weariness take me under.

* * *

This time when I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the smell. With so many people together in close quarters without bathing, the air had taken on a certain pungency.

Sitting up, I wrinkled my nose and checked to see if Mark was still sitting next to me. He was.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little better. You?” I stretched to work some of the kinks out and felt a satisfying pop somewhere deep in my back. No one in the community was a stranger to hard floors and uncomfortable nights, but this one had been rough, even for me.

Mark too, was showing signs of wear. Dark circles marred the skin under his eyes and gave them a hollow look. The swelling around the injured one had gone down, though the bruising was a dark mottled purple, and the fat lip had shrunk back down to normal size. His white hair stuck out at odd angles as though he’d been tugging on it.

“I haven’t come up with much,” he replied, brows furrowed in frustration. “I tried to get my bearings during the last bathroom break but it’s only down the hall.”

“It’s okay,” I said with forced cheerfulness.

“No, it’s not,” Mark said listlessly. “They came and took Wendy Cooper while you were out.”

“What? Why didn’t you wake me up?” I hissed.

“Because you wouldn’t have been able to stop them,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, before nudging a chin discreetly at the other prisoners. Our conversation was starting to draw attention.

I wanted to argue but he wasn’t wrong. We didn’t have any weapons and most of us were beaten to hell from the chaos at the ceremony, but I didn’t have to like it.

“Fine,” I relented, trying to think logically. “Nero will probably send for me soon. I’ll see if any of the rebels will talk to me. Not all of them looked very accepting of Mario's leadership style in the cavern.”

“That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “I don’t see how we’re going to find a way to escape without help though.”

“Why don’t you work on rallying our people,” I suggested. “Maybe the next time the guards come we can overpower them. It’s not like a bunch of them can come in at once.”

Mark seemed to perk up at that idea. “That could work. It’s worth a try at least, and better than sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves. I just wish I could get my hands on a datapad.”

I did too. My fellow prospus might not have been the gutsiest person I knew, but if he could get his hands on one of those our chances of escape would improve drastically.

The door opened, prompting some of the other prisoners to stir nervously.

Allan’s large form stepped into the room, eyes scanning until they fell on me. He jerked a thumb wordlessly at the door and waited to see if I would comply.

Deciding to save my breath and energy, I did.

“Hold it,” he said, grabbing my arm and holding up the restraints when I tried to walk past him.

“Is that really necessary?” I asked, giving him the beady eye.

“What do you think I am, stupid?”

Yes, I thought.

“Of course not,” I said sweetly. “It just seems a little overkill.”

“I’m not going to be the one responsible for you causing problems,” said Allan, not budging.

“Fine,” I sighed, holding my wrists out. “Lead the way.”

14

Allan put a guiding hand on my elbow, and I had to resist the urge to shake it off.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked lightly, trying not to be obvious as I studied our surroundings in my peripherals.

He gave me a sidelong look. “You really want to know?”

“Yes,” I answered honestly.

“Mario has the right idea, working with that Boneclaw. It’s for the good of the whole colony. A few now to spare the many.”

“So, you’re okay with offering up our people?” I challenged, incensed all over again.

“Not really,” he confessed. “But you saw what they’re capable of. Someone had to do something.”

“And how are the sacrifices getting chosen? It seems to me that anyone not falling in line is going, and that’s bullshit,” I said, ignoring the obvious jab at my father.

Allan didn’t have an answer for that, and we continued on in silence.

This part of the fusion core facility didn’t look too much different than ours except for the state of disrepair. Mario and his people had obviously been hard at work getting portions of it in working condition, but some areas looked untouched. Still, survival here would be impossible without the advantages our compound provided.

Janus had worked with more than a dozen generations of our people to create a sustainable place to live. Which, I realized, was likely why Mario had chosen to attack at the ceremony. Most of the community had been gathered together, relaxed and unsuspecting.

Between the missing food, people, and other resources, someone was bound to have eventually noticed. In order to avoid that scenario, he had made his move. Which, as it turned out, had been a smart one.

Having the “missing” hunters speak out with their concerns had been particularly clever for a few reasons.

Their sudden arrival had caused confusion and prevented any opposition. Their words held clout and surely swayed some of the community to Mario's side. It also had the added bonus of getting his men close enough to attack without arousing suspicion.

I hadn’t seen anything useful by the time we made it back to the lab from before. As he had then, Nero waited inside.

He looked up when we entered, and his lips turned up into a smug grin. “My father says you’ll be helping after all.”

In that moment, I wanted to punch him. “Is this some kind of game to you?”

Nero’s smile faltered at the venom in my tone, but he tried to save face. “Don’t be tetchy just because you lost, Lucia.”

“Tetchy?” I asked, incredulous. “People are dying and you think I’m being tetchy? No wonder Mario had to rig the Selection.”

His fists balled up at his sides and I thought he might actually strike out at me. Then he visibly relaxed and waved a hand at the table.

“Just get to work,” he grumbled, then stepped back and pointed to where the staff lay on the table.

It had been secured to the table with the barrel end pointed directly at where I’d be sitting.

“I can’t work on it if I can’t move it,” I told him bluntly.

“You’ll have to make it work. And this way we know you won’t be trying to activate it. If you do—”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving my still manacled hands and cutting him off. “I’ll just kill myself; I get it. It’s just impractical to do it this way, and besides, I’m going to need tools.” I said that last part thinking that he would have to send someone to search for some, thus giving me more time.

“Already taken care of,” he said with a smirk, dashing my hopes. “They should be arriving shortly.”

Allan came and fixed my restraints to the table with a long length of chain. I had just enough room to reach up and touch most of the staff, but not enough to make any type of escape.

By the time he was done, the tools had arrived. I recognized the bag as being one from Josef’s lab and figured they must have sent someone to steal it. If they were able to get into the lab that easily then Josef must have been somewhere else. I tried not to think of the possibility that he had been killed or taken prisoner in order to get them.

“I can’t make any promises,” I told Nero, still jockeying for more time.

“Oh?” He had the gall to look amused and I knew that he knew I was stalling.

“Josef helped me with a lot of this. If you send Mark to assist, it will get done faster.”

“No,” he said, drawing out the word. “I don’t think so. Good ol’ Jo couldn’t stop going on about how impressed he was with your work on it. Nice try though.” Nero turned to leave, then paused. “Luce, don’t take too long, okay? Lives depend on it.”

Oh, how I hated him in that moment. The statement had a double meaning. Instead of giving me a time limit he’d put everything in my hands. If I took too long, people would still die, offered to Tiberius as a blood payment. Smart bastard.

He left me staring daggers into his back, taking Allan with him. I was alone in the room but knew there were at least two people guarding the door.

I tested the limits of my restraints first, gauging reach. My estimate had been pretty close and I found it was easy to get to the parts I would need to work on.

The staff itself bore no visible damage from the cave-in, which I was grateful for. I tried a few different angles and maneuvers to see if it could be activated without blowing a hole in myself but couldn’t. Without being able to walk around the table, I was forced to lean over it in order to reach the energy core housing and put some part of my body in the line of fire.

Remembering the tool bag, I snatched it up thinking they might have been careless enough to leave something inside that would help me take off the restraints.

The contents were delicate, made for precision work on small components, though I did find a datapad. I pulled it out without much excitement since they hadn’t slipped on anything else so far.

As I’d anticipated, it had been heavily modified. I spent some time digging through it but couldn’t send any messages or access anything besides the diagnostics program for the staff.

Deciding to at least pretend to work while I worked out a plan, I synced the pad to the staff and did a basic system check. Everything came back clean, with no errors, not that I’d expected any.

Though I knew exactly where to alter the algorithm for the biometric lock, I went through it all, line by tedious line. Even if there was no way around eventually making the staff usable for Mario, maybe I could alter something else in a more subtle fashion.

The hours slipped by as I worked, largely uninterrupted except when nature called. Once, I thought I heard the thumping start again but I tuned it out.

My stomach growled audibly after a while and I realized that I hadn’t eaten since the ration meal, which now seemed like days ago. My mouth felt pretty dry too, and I was considering the merits of making a racket to get the guard’s attention when one of them entered carrying a tray.

It was Nell.

“Hey,” I said in a friendly voice.

She strode over to me without meeting my eyes and set the tray down without answering. On it there was another vacuum sealed ration meal, a bowl, a napkin, and a cup of water.

“Can you at least tell me why you’re going along with this?” I asked, still keeping my tone casual.

“Just eat your food, Lucia.” Then in an act completely unlike her, Nell knocked the water over. “Oops.”

I cursed and jumped back, stopped short by the restraints. Nell left without saying if she was going to bring more and I was left to clean up the sopping mess, which had gotten on everything.

The napkin wasn’t nearly large enough to soak up all the water and most of it went onto the floor.

“What a bitch,” I grumbled, still surprised at her antics, then I picked up the ready-to-eat meal.

As I was about to open it, something on the plastic wrapping caught my eye. They were usually blank except for the use by date. This one had a strange marking on it. Curious, I studied it a little closer and saw that it was a message.

Be ready in ten minutes. P.S. eat the food.

I read it again, just to be sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. Someone had written it using hydroink. When Nell spilled the water on it, the message had appeared.

Nell. Of course. The spill had been no accident. This made me feel better. While Nero’s behavior hadn’t been much of a surprise, the knowledge that Nell was part of the rebellion definitely was. I didn’t know what prompted her assistance, but I was glad all the same.

Eat the food.

Why would that matter? I didn’t want to waste any of the ten minutes but decided to eat while there was an opportunity.

The message became clear when I tipped the bag into the bowl and a piece of metal fell out. Fishing it out of the food, I discovered it to be a key. Using the soggy napkin, I cleaned it off and inserted it into the keyhole on my cuffs.

They sprang open, and I let them drop to the floor with a surge of excitement. I started working on getting my staff free from the table.

The room was mostly bare, and I couldn’t find anything that would help me break the metal bindings that had been drilled into the table’s surface.

There was a sudden commotion outside, and I whirled around, ready to fight. The dull thud of landing blows and grunts met my ears, then it went quiet. When the door slid open, Nell poked her head inside.

“Here,” she said, holding up a hammer and a screwdriver. “Don’t know if it will work, but it was the best I could find. We have to hurry though.”

“Okay,” I replied, taking the tools gratefully.

Together, we worked on one of the bands until it finally cracked under the onslaught. With one half of the staff free it was a simple matter to rotate it and pop the other band off.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get the hell out of here. There are a few others, but I suspect they’re gone already. Mario is drunk with power and a lot of people are scared.”

“They should be,” I said gruffly. At Nell’s pained expression, I softened a little. “We have to free the others first, you up for that?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Wait, do you have a working datapad?”

She shook her head. “No. Mario is too afraid one of us will try to contact the compound.”

I snatched the hobbled one from the table. “Maybe Mark can do something with this one,” I said, stuffing it in a pocket. I followed her out, watching as she snagged a short spear from one of the fallen guards.

We took off at a run down the empty corridor toward the prisoners. We hadn’t traveled very far before two rebels blocked our path.

Angie Davis, an older hunter, and Roric Abernathy. I didn’t know Roric very well, only that he worked in the greenhouse with Jodi. “We’re not letting Visaro get away,” Angie said, taking a step forward and lifting her hunting spear.

Roric took up the same stance. Neither had a gun, which I was glad to see. Mario had probably been too paranoid to give them one.

“Use the staff,” Nell whispered.

I gave a little shake of my head. “I don’t want to kill them.”

“The floor,” she said urgently.

Getting her meaning, I pointed the staff at the ground in front of them and loosed a bolt of blue light. The small blast sent up a shower of sparks and they jumped away.

It gave us the distraction we needed to rush them. I took Angie, who was closest to me, and swept the staff low, trying to knock her off her feet. She danced away and sneered at me.

“Come on, Daddy’s girl. Is that all you got?” She twirled the spear expertly in her hands and began to circle me.

I grinned back and raised the staff again. “No.”

Angie stopped spinning her weapon in response and we exchanged a flurry of strikes. The older, more experienced hunter was fierce and jabbed the spear at my face. I knocked it aside, but she pulled it back and drove it at me again.

I countered again and again as she tried to slice me open, her spear bouncing off the more robust staff each time until she grunted in frustration. Angie slowed her attacks and I took the opening, bringing the staff down hard. It must have been what she intended though, because she sidestepped and used the shaft of her spear to connect with mine then performed a circular motion where her spear tip hooked the barrel of my staff and pushed it into the ground momentarily.

The move allowed her to get close and kick out at my knee. She connected and I grunted, stumbling back. Angie, thinking she had me, took her spear off my staff and lunged forward. I jerked my arm back and let the staff slide through my grip, then thrust it at her. It struck her in the chest, and I delivered a miniblast that sent her lurching backward and collapsing ungracefully to the floor.

When Angie didn’t get back up, I turned to check on Nell, mostly spent from our short altercation.

She was handling the other man pretty well, at least in my opinion. Nell didn’t have the man’s height or muscles, but he was soft from working in the greenhouse. She ducked his unpracticed swings easily, delivering short jabs of her own and dancing away before he could react.

The technique worked for a little bit, but Roric soon caught on. The next time she came within reach, he snagged part of her jumpsuit and yanked her back before she could bound away.

He brought an arm around her neck, yanking Nell to his chest. Roric lifted her off the ground in a headlock as she kicked out wildly and tried to loosen his grip.

I stepped forward, ready to strike, when Nell reached into one of her pockets and produced a stick. No, I quickly realized. It was her bow. She swung her arm up, the grip turning blue in her hands, and extended it, and hit Roric in the face, just above the eye.

He cried out and let her go, clutching the spot that would soon become a bruise.

“You bitch!” he snarled, reaching into his back pocket. The handgun he produced made every muscle in my body tense and I activated the staff on reflex, but Nell beat me to it.

Her bow glowed with power and she set an arrow to it.

She released it, and the projectile struck Roric in the hand. He dropped the weapon with a howl, backing away slowly before turning and running in the opposite direction.

Nell retracted the weapon with a questioning look in her eyes.

“Let him go,” I said. “We’ve got more important things to deal with.”

She was breathing heavily, her blood pumping from the fight.

“You did well,” I continued.

“Thanks. Wasn’t sure if it would go that way,” she said. Her gaze focused on Angie. “Is she…”

“Dead? No, just knocked out. She’s still breathing.”

We began moving again, heading for the makeshift prison in good time. There was no one to stop us. Not yet, anyway, and I was glad for that.

I put my hand on the door pad, but it didn’t open. Doors at the compound were hardly ever locked, so I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I felt a rush of panic but tried to calm myself. When the pad beeped angrily at me and went red, I realized the rebels must have modified it. Maybe they’d done so from the other side. I hadn’t even considered the possibility of them re-coding it.

“Here, let me,” said Nell.

I stepped aside and let her try, a little nervous she too would be locked out. Then the pad blinked green, the door slid open, and I stepped inside with a short-lived sigh of relief.

The room was dark. Using my staff as a light, I stepped inside. An empty room was all that greeted us.

15

“Where the hell did they go?” I demanded, staring at the vacant room.

“I don’t know,” replied Nell, looking just as shocked as I felt. She kept looking around the room as though the missing prisoners might reappear out of thin air.

Unsure of what else to do, I walked around the space, looking for any clue as to where they might have gone.

“Maybe someone else let them out,” Nell suggested, though she sounded doubtful. “We should go to the compound and get help. Maybe they are on their way there.”

I didn’t answer, mulling the idea over in my head. It had its merits, but I sincerely doubted it was the case. “But what if they aren’t? Then maybe Mario kills them all before we can come back.”

Nell shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. But we can’t exactly stay here.”

Knowing she had a point, I cast a final glance around the room. The cots were still there, along with a few ration wrappers, but not much else. I went over to where Mark and I had sat, thinking he might have left me some breadcrumbs to follow, but it too was bare.

“Alright,” I started to say, then stopped when the glint of something shiny on the floor caught my eye.

I bent down and picked the object up, studying it in the weak light. My eyes widened when I realized what it was. “I don’t think they’re at the compound,” I announced.

“What did you find?” asked Nell, coming closer.

“Prime Lambert’s pin,” I said, holding it out to her.

“What, are you sure? He never takes that off. None of them do.” She took the pin from me and inspected it.

“It’s his,” I confirmed. “He would never leave it on purpose. I think it’s a message. Mario wants me to know he has him.”

Understanding bloomed on Nell’s face. “Oh, shit.”

We both exchanged a glance, then spoke at the same time. “The cavern.”

It was a small thing, but in the moment I was reminded of Karin. Pain filled my heart, but I couldn’t allow myself the luxury of grief.

“I haven’t actually seen a Reckoning yet,” Nell admitted as we left the room.

Her confession made me stop and I put a hand on her arm. “There are a few things I need to tell you about then.”

She listened intently. I studied her face for any indication that she was lying but found none.

“I knew it was bad,” she said when I finished. “People were getting taken away and not coming back.”

“Tiberius is… terrifying.”

“I really thought he was just something Mario made up to make everyone fall in line,” she whispered.

“No,” I told her. “This isn’t going to be easy. Are you sure you can do this?”

She nodded fiercely. “I owe it to them.”

I didn’t disabuse her of the notion because, frankly, she was right.

“Let’s go,” I said, taking off at a jog.

The rest of the encampment looked abandoned. Was everyone at the caves? Or had that many people fled, unable to serve Mario? The latter seemed possible, given what Nell had told me and my own experiences with the man.

It wasn’t hard to see how he had gained his initial following. I’d known him my entire life, and he’d always been levelheaded, a respected hunter, and my father’s closest friend.

If he’d brought his concerns to the other hunters, I could understand them taking him seriously and moving to unseat my father as Director. Mario had said that no one had taken him seriously when he tried to tell them about Tiberius, though. What had he told the hunters to make them believe him? They were now part of his inner circle, for sure. The ones who had spoken against Cyril at the ceremony. There had to be more to how this all began, but I didn’t have time to puzzle it out. We had arrived.

As soon as we cleared the passageway, Mario, Nero, and a dozen or so of their rebels came into view. All of them were armed, not with spears, but with rifles and handguns.

Just great, I thought, noting how outnumbered we were. From the smirks on their faces, they knew it too.

The prisoners stood in the same spot Laurell had the day before. A few more of Mario's men had weapons trained on them, I assumed in case someone tried to run. I scanned the group until I found Mark and Lambert.

“How did you know?” I asked Mario, tightening my grip on the staff.

He scoffed. “Stupid girl. How could you think I wouldn’t be watching?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth I felt like an idiot. Why hadn’t I thought of that? Of course, he would have a camera in the lab to keep an eye on me. As soon as Nell showed up, he probably took action.

“This is a job for adults,” he told me snidely. “Give up now, you’re barely a prospus out of training.”

“And you’re crazy,” I shot back, not caring that it sounded juvenile.

“Nell, dear,” he said, ignoring me and turning his attention on her. “Retrieve the staff and I’ll forgive you.”

I tensed, more than a little nervous that she might sell me out, but she shook her head. “No. I’m done following you.”

His eyes flashed in anger. “Then you want to die? So be it.”

He lifted the rifle and I stepped in front of Nell protectively. I wasn’t going to let him kill again.

“How can you be a leader if you have to make others do your dirty work?” I sneered. “If you want the staff, come get it. Unless you’re afraid of a prospus just out of training.”

That caused a stir among his hunters and Mario looked around nervously, but his response was cut off.

THOM.

THOM.

THOM.

“Sounds like Tiberius is on his way,” I said. “I bet he’d love to hear all about how you plan to use this staff on him.”

All the color seemed to drain from his face.

“That’s what I thought. Let us—all of us—go now and he won’t hear it from me.”

“Father, you can’t seriously be—”

“Shut up, Nero,” Mario ordered.

THOM.

THOM.

THOM.

“You’re running out of time,” I said lightly.

“Fine, take them and go,” Mario seethed. “We won’t stop you.”

“If you shoot us in the back, know that I will use my dying breath to bring this entire cavern down around us,” I warned him.

To show that I was serious, I activated the staff, a blue light forming around the tip.

Mario scowled, clearly offended by the insinuation that he lacked honor. This man, who thought he was doing the right thing in all of this. “I won’t,” he said, simply.

“Let’s go,” I said to Nell.

We were almost halfway to Mark and the other prisoners when Tiberius entered the cavern, followed closely by three of his kind. His cold, blue eyes took in the scene before him.

“What is this, Mario?” he asked, the words echoing loudly.

“Run!” I yelled, grabbing Nell’s hand, but she seemed rooted to the ground.

She was looking at Tiberius in horror, her mouth agape, body frozen. Nell wasn’t the only one. A few of the prisoners stood stock still, unable to move. Others scattered like insects, some of them screaming, and made for different tunnels.

“No!” I shouted, panicking in the moment of chaos.

Nell still wasn’t moving, so I did the only thing I could think of and slapped her.

That seemed to jolt her. She flinched and stared at me.

“Nell, we have to move. Now!”

“Ri-right,” she stuttered, still terrified but at least out of her trance now.

“Tiberius!” Mario yelled above the mayhem. “These Boneclaw hunters were the ones acting on Cyril’s orders and killing your family. They’re trying to get away!”

Orders? I thought. What was he talking about? More than a few of his captives were not hunters.

Tiberius swung his head sharply to fleeing prisoners and let out a series of fast clicks and chittering noises to the other three Boneclaws.

All at once things became clear.

This was how Mario had achieved an Alliance with the talking Boneclaw. He had told Tiberius that my father was purposely killing them. No wonder he wanted payback.

Cyril had never issued an order like that. His and every Prime’s decisions were balanced toward the preservation and sustainment of every species of life on this world. It was the only way to maintain a future for ourselves. Mario, as Tiberius’ only direct contact with humans, had convinced the creature that my father was to blame.

I’d have to worry about that later. For now, we had to get out.

I needed to slow the Boneclaws down. I fired a volley of small blasts from the staff at the cavern walls, careful to avoid Tiberius, his soldiers, and our people. My hope was that it would bring down enough debris to give us at least a few meters distance, but the walls held and it was all for little more than a few bursts of dust.

But Boneclaws covered their ears. I suddenly remembered the video from the archives. They were sensitive to loud noises.

“Everyone head for the smallest tunnel!” I yelled, raising the staff and shooting again as we ran.

Mark heard me and started shouting at the people around him. A few caught on and changed direction, heading for the small opening I’d pointed out, but many had already scattered.

Tiberius snatched a fleeing woman who was trying to escape and tossed her aside, as if she weighed no more to him than a datapad did to me.

My blasts were starting to have an unanticipated side effect. As they struck the rock walls in quick succession the vibrations shook the ceiling. Stalactites began to break loose, arrowing into the ground and bursting, sending small stone fragments in all directions.

I stopped firing when a hunk of rock came crashing down nearby, narrowly missing one of the running prisoners, but it was too late.

Another piece fell and struck one of the smaller Boneclaws in the shoulder. It howled in pain and scrambled back, unsure where the blow had come from.

Tiberius roared again and searched the cave for the source of the blasts. His icy blue eyes landed on me and held my gaze. Then he charged.

I ran with everything I had, eating up ground and wishing like hell Tiberius would trip and fall on his face. I made it into the tunnel just behind Nell and Prime Lambert, who didn’t move as fast as us younger ones.

“Don’t stop!” I bellowed.

It was a good thing I did too, because the tunnel wall shook as the massive creature struck the opening. His size prevented him from giving chase, but I looked behind me and saw his clawed hand arcing through the air.

My muscles were on fire, but I dug deep and found more, running faster than I’d ever thought possible.

Something hit me in the back, but not hard, and I realized it was a spray of dust and rock from Tiberius’ hand missing me and digging into the ground.

When I turned around, he was dragging it back, leaving deep grooves in the rocky floor. I heard shouts and recognized Allan’s voice. Mario must have sent them in after us when he saw we were getting away.

“Everyone keep going,” I ordered. “I’m going to head them off so they can’t follow us.”

“You can’t face them alone,” Nell protested.

“Don’t worry, I’m not,” I assured her.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do,” asked Mark, who must have noticed the grim look of determination on my face. “That didn’t turn out so well last time, remember.”

“It’s the only play we’ve got,” I grunted, lifting the staff and creating another sphere of energy. “Here we go again,” I said under my breath.

This time I was careful not to overdo it and took the time to aim before releasing the orb.

I still wasn’t entirely prepared for the shockwave, but at least I managed to stay upright as the ceiling began to fall.

16

“You’re either brave or crazy,” Mark coughed in the dark.

This tunnel had been dug by the Boneclaws, and as such, it had no source of light. When the cave-in blocked off access to the cavern, it had also plunged us into total darkness.

“A little of both,” I replied, releasing enough energy to turn the staff into a light source.

“Come on, “I said. “I think I can hear the others up ahead. We need to clear out in case that didn’t stop everyone following us.”

The other two nodded and we followed the tunnel until the small group of survivors came into view. I tried not to wince when I only counted seven forms.

“What’s going on?” asked Don Hardy, his voice unsteady.

I couldn’t remember what his job was in the community, but I’d seen him around plenty. He was bald and always wore a thick cap to stave off the cold. At the moment, he looked skittish. His eyes were wide with fear as though he’d run away at any moment.

“I had to close off the tunnel entrance to stop anything from getting in,” I explained.

“No, not that. Her. She’s been helping them, I saw it.”

He was looking at Nell accusingly.

Even in the dim light I could see her pale face turn red and she twisted her hands together nervously.

There were a few grunts of assent from the others, but I focused on Don. “Nell is the reason you’re not still in that room or Boneclaw dinner. I trust her,” I said, fixing a cold stare on him.

“Who put you in charge?” His voice was rising, his fear becoming something else. “You’re a child barely out of training.”

My temper flared. Mario’s words from Don’s mouth.

“I did,” declared Prime Lambert, appearing from somewhere in the back. “As the highest-ranking citizen among you, that is my right. Miss Visaro is more than qualified for the task.”

Don looked as though he might protest but must have thought better of it.

“Mark, can you do anything with this?” I asked, shooting Lambert a grateful glance, then pulling the datapad out and handing it to Mark. “It’s been restricted.”

He took it from me with an of course I can look, then started working on it with a series of complicated finger taps.

“We can’t stay here long,” I reminded him. “If you can get it working, we’ll have the map and you can try to get a message out.”

“It’s done,” he announced less than a minute later, not hiding his pride. “But it’s useless right now. Wherever we are, it’s not close enough to the facility to get any kind of signal.”

“Will it still work to modify the staff? I don’t think using the core’s energy like this for long is a good idea. If something catches me off guard, it’s liable to cause another cave-in. I want to put a cap on the power output to prevent that.”

He performed a few more taps and handed the pad over. “Yeah, it can still connect. Just remember if we get into trouble, we’ll have to stop and recode it again.”

“I know, but it’s either that or we walk in the dark. Unless someone has a light?” I asked, glancing around at the others.

Don shook his head and averted his gaze, clearly still upset about Nell. When no one spoke up, I made the necessary alterations on my own, capping the energy draw at 18 gigajoules. I reasoned that it would be enough to stop any trouble we ran into without killing us in the process.

I was about to disconnect the pad when I paused, quickly making a final alteration. “Mark,” I said, waving him over. “I don’t want to advertise this, but I took off the bio lock in case someone else has to use this.”

He nodded. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

After it was done, I walked away from the group a few dozen paces and tried an experimental shot. The staff produced a small stream of blue light that dissipated as soon as it left the barrel.

“Okay, we’re good,” I said crisply, trying not to show my annoyance at hobbling my weapon.

A loud bang came from the caved in area, and everyone froze. Then it came again, louder this time, followed by the sound of falling rock.

“They’re trying to get through,” Don whispered, stating the obvious.

“Everyone, move!” I ordered, leading the way at a brisk pace.

The racket continued as we moved farther into the tunnel, but I took that as a sign that they hadn’t made it through yet. This tunnel mirrored the one Nero had lured us to—empty, with deep grooves in the floor and walls where the Boneclaws had dug.

“Hey, got a signal,” Mark said after a little while. “It’s not strong enough to send a message, but the map is working.”

“Where are we?”

He showed me our green marker in an unmapped part of the cave system and shrugged. “This tunnel wasn’t exactly part of the original design.”

“It has to end soon,” I pointed out. “That’s the encasement assembly line of the fusion core facility.”

“Which has been deemed off limits by the Primes and your father,” he reminded me.

“Somehow, I don’t think we’re going to get reprimanded for breaking that ordinance,” I said.

“Of course not, dear,” said Lambert, walking faster to catch pace with us.

I waited a beat to see if Nell would as well, but she hung back and kept quiet. In fact, I realized she hadn’t spoken since Don’s outburst, and I had a feeling it was to keep the others’ attention off of her.

Part of me felt bad for her, but Don hadn’t been altogether wrong. She had made a choice to follow Mario, at least for a time. There was bound to be some fallout from that.

“You know why it’s off limits, don’t you?” asked Mark, a touch too peppy for my liking.

“Yeah,” I said, waving a hand. “Unstable materials, structural damage, lots of broken machinery. We were in the same class, remember?”

Mark looked a little deflated, as though I’d scored higher on one of Janus’ quizzes or something. “Don’t forget about the radiation,” he said, perky again.

“Right,” I said, slapping my forehead in mock dismay. “How could I forget the radiation.”

“Well, I did some studying on the facility.”

“You don’t say?” I muttered. My patience had begun to wear thin from the subject.

“Yes, of course,” he continued, not catching my sarcasm. “In case we had to go there for the fusion core task. Anyway, there’s a tank of water under the assembly line area.”

“So?”

Mark blinked. “It’s contaminated, likely from the up-channel flow from the production line.”

“How contaminated?” I asked, a little more curious now. “Like melt our faces off contaminated? Instantaneous death?”

“Death wouldn’t be immediate,” he replied seriously. “The opposite actually. It would be slow and agonizing.”

“Well, let’s avoid that, then,” I said quickly, before he could launch into a detailed description of the side effects and scare the others more than they needed to be. “It’d be a shame to come all this way only to die from exposure.”

“We should be out of here soon,” he commented a few minutes later. “The facility is less than a hundred meters away. I think it will be around the next bend.”

Mark’s prediction turned out to be correct and we were soon standing in a large space that had clearly been built by the Eternals.

Where the tunnel had been crude and simplistic, the advanced architecture of our ancestors was prevalent here. Metallic surfaces and abandoned equipment abounded, though there was no evidence of power. My staff remained the only light and it wasn’t bright enough to illuminate the entire area, giving the space an unsettling feel.

“What’s the best way through here?” I asked Mark.

The rest of the group huddled close, looking unnerved by their surroundings. I couldn’t blame them. Besides the lack of power, the place looked as if all the workers had gone on a break and would be back at any time.

Industrial vehicles had been parked haphazardly, some with loads still raised into the air. A conveyor meant to transport materials throughout the facility still had half-filled compartments, waiting to be loaded and sent on their way to destinations unknown.

“Okay, I’ve been looking it over and did the same thing we did when looking for the fusion cores. The red areas are high levels of radiation. Yellow for medium, green for safe.”

From what I could see, there was overwhelmingly more red than yellow and green. “Looks like there’s only one way out,” I remarked.

“Hopefully it’s all passable,” said Nell, finally speaking again.

My lips tightened into a frown. I hadn’t thought of that.

A slight tremor shook the ground and I looked up sharply.

“Did you feel—”

The roar of an enraged Boneclaw echoed from the tunnel we’d just exited.

“Break time’s over,” I said, turning to Mark. “Take point since you have an idea where we’re going.”

He nodded and took off in the direction of the first green marker I’d seen. The rest of us followed close on his heels.

“At least Tiberius couldn’t fit in the tunnel,” Nell said to me.

“Maybe not him, but Boneclaws created it,” I said darkly. “At least one of them is small enough to get through it.”

We fell into silence, trailing after Mark as he led us deeper into the darkened facility.

* * *

“Is there any way to get the power back on?” asked Jennifer Murphy, a woman I recognized from scavenging jaunts.

We were backtracking for the third time after hitting another dead end of collapsed rubble. I knew we weren’t lost, but with the snaking path through identical rooms, I was having trouble keeping my bearings.

“No, Janus had the power off for safety reasons,” Mark explained.

“How are you getting a signal then?” asked Don.

It was a fair question and I waited to hear Mark’s answer.

“Different system. The Eternals wanted to have a way to communicate in case they lost power, so each facility had its own tritium core. Our compound was the one that handled communications,” he said, rattling off the information as if he’d been waiting for someone to ask just that question.

Knowing Mark, that was probably the case.

“Which way now?” I asked when we reached a junction with three connected passages.

He studied the map for a second then pointed left. “We came from the right. It’s a dead end behind us. That way leads to a yellow area though.”

“Not much of a choice,” I said, waving my arms wide to indicate he should take the lead again.

This passage took us through a series of small rooms that looked like the office portion of the production facility. The map took us through the maze of cubicles and communal areas, most untouched.

“Anybody hungry?” Don joked after we passed a vending machine with packages of food still inside.

Even Lambert snorted at that.

“If you want to chance nearly two millennia old food, be my guest,” I said, then made an exaggerated gagging noise.

The exit led to the warehouse that held the assembly line, and we entered it warily, unsure of what we might find.

“Stay behind me,” Mark warned us. “The radiation is higher to our left and right, but if we stay on this path, it should be okay.”

Even with the map and Mark leading the way, progress was slow. Unlike where we entered, most everything was in shambles. Judging from the wide-scale destruction, fallout from the collapse had been the worst here.

“Watch your step,” I told the others. “Not all of this looks stable.”

A far-off thump reminded all of us that we weren’t alone.

We’d left the Boneclaw tunnel behind in a hurry, wanting to put as much distance between us and the enemy as possible, and gone into the large warehouse that Mark promised would lead us out. Perhaps ten minutes after that, one of the creatures ran out of the tunnel, alerting us with its thunderous steps.

The video Janus showed us from the era when the assembly line was up and running looked nothing like the scene before us now. A few areas were blackened and burned out husks, the site of some kind of explosion.

Robots tasked with the handling of radioactive material lay twisted and broken, their protective shielding cracked or completely destroyed.

To my knowledge, the facility had been checked for a potential explosion, but none was found. At the time, no one wanted to risk radiation poisoning, and this was one area that had never been scavenged.

The cores we scavenged currently were completed units that had been shipped from this facility and were already stockpiled at the other two. The Eternals had built the fusion core compound with catastrophe in mind, making sure to include a layer between it and the rest of the cave system. That way, no radiation could leak out. We had treatments of course, in case of emergency, but had never had to use them.

The ones who survived the chaos after the Boneclaws’ escape and the ensuing destruction had opted to just close it all up, turn the power off, and forget about it. Nothing had been salvaged, including the dead.

We discovered that last part when a resource handler named Alix Thurman squealed, making the rest of us jump.

She stumbled back, pointing at something behind a vehicle used for transporting heavy loads of material.

I eased over to her and shone the light on the dark lump she was staring at. It was a person, or had been once, lying facedown on the ground.

“Nothing but clothes and bone,” I told her. “It can’t hurt you.”

She grimaced, looking embarrassed. “I know that. Sorry, it just freaked me out.”

“It’s okay,” I replied. “But something might have heard that. Mark, are we getting closer?”

He nodded. “Once we get through here, we just have to go down three levels. From there, there are a number of exits that will take us to the main cave system.”

We started walking again, only to pause once more when Nell signaled for us to stop.

“What is it?” I asked, thinking she might have seen another body.

She put a finger to her lips and pointed the other one at her ear. “It’s getting louder,” she mouthed.

I went still and strained my ears. A few seconds later, I heard it: clicking noises, like Boneclaws talking, then a soft thump.

My eyes widened. “They must be moving carefully so we don’t hear them as well,” I whispered. “Mark, you have to pick up the pace. They’re closer than we thought.”

Mark started speed walking. I jogged a little to catch him so he had the light to see by. He almost tripped over some debris.

“Steady,” I told him.

We had almost cleared the warehouse floor when a crash came from behind us. A loading door crumpled inward with the force of something smashing into it then started to tear away from its track.

A hairy white arm stuck through the opening and swiped with its clawed hand.

“Go!” I yelled.

Mark ran first, checking to make sure the rest of us were behind him, then sprinting forward again. We followed him through piles of ruined building as the Boneclaw screeched and broke through the rest of the door.

I was out of breath, dragging in great gulps of air when at last the end of the warehouse came into view. Everything hurt and my lungs were on fire, but we were too close to stop now.

“It’s there!” Mark yelled, pointing at a wall coming up fast.

As we drew closer, I could see what he was talking about. A derelict elevator stood half open, as if it had been trying to close when the power went out. That wouldn’t do us any good, but where there was an elevator there had to be stairs.

Scanning, I saw the emergency sign to the left of the elevator, its red arrow pointing the way to a manual door. If we could cross the fifty meters to it, everything would be fine. There was no chance in hell even the smallest Boneclaw could make it in there.

A transport lift sat to one side, along with a few overturned cases of fusion cores, but not much else. If we kept to one side, it would only take a few seconds to cross.

“Wait!” Prime Lambert was waving his hands frantically and yelling to get our attention.

I skidded to a stop, searching for the source of his concern, and saw it immediately.

The expanse of floor we stood on shook and groaned. At first, I thought that was what he was warning us about. Then Lambert pointed at the ground and I saw it.

A fusion core lay there. It wouldn’t have been a big deal under normal circumstances. The core housing had been designed to be safe to handle without protective gear, which we did regularly. Unless the protective casing was damaged, as this one appeared to be. Whatever had happened to break the casing had also torn through the floor. The metal sagged and groaned with every step, and the glowing core rattled with every motion.

“It’s okay,” Mark said, pushing his hands down in what he probably thought was a calming gesture. “No sudden movements. Ease your way around it.”

Everyone did as he asked. I barely dared to breathe, and I guessed we were all thinking the same thing.

Please don’t go off.

Nell had just made it around to the other side of the damaged core and Alix was moving centimeter by petrified centimeter past it when a Boneclaw stomped around the corner. Alix froze, too terrified to move as it barreled toward her.

I watched, horrified as it reached the edge of frail ground. It seemed to realize immediately that it was in danger because the Boneclaw attempted to leap backward, but it was too late.

The floor began to crumble, and the broken fusion core disappeared into a deep fissure.

17

Mark had the door to the stairwell open and was guiding those nearest to him in first. I left him to it and focused on Alix, who still hadn’t moved.

Without knowing which part of the floor might be safe, if any, I tested every step before putting my full weight down.

“Alix! Snap out of it!” I yelled, trying to get her attention.

The girl finally looked around, her eyes widening as she took in the disintegrating ground beneath her. “I don’t think I can do it,” she said hoarsely.

I held out my staff like a lifeline. “There, that’s almost two meters you don’t have to go,” I told her, forcing my voice to stay calm.

Alix nodded and took a step toward me. Then another. Her features were pinched in fear and concentration as she crept along at a maddeningly slow pace.

I was almost about to urge her to move faster when the Boneclaw fell through the floor where it stood, catching itself on the firm ground it had come from.

This threw Alix off balance and she tipped back, then leaned forward again, flailing in an attempt to right herself. One foot came down hard on a cracked portion of paneling, splitting it open. She scrambled to climb the falling section as it went vertical but couldn’t do more than hang on as it fell into the now wide-open crevasse.

Her eyes met mine, wide with terror, then began to slip out of view. Her scream echoed from the dark below then was suddenly cut off.

I wanted to rush headlong after her, but I knew it would be useless.

Forcing myself to turn away and head for the stairwell, I spotted Nell. She’d fallen a little way from safety and struggled to stand back up.

The Boneclaw roared and kicked, doing everything in its power to not fall into the now gaping hole behind it. Every movement sent vibrations through the already weakened flooring and almost sent me toppling.

I ran the last few steps to her and hauled her up. It wasn’t pretty, but she got her footing again and stumbled her way to where Mark still held the door open.

Another rumble sent me to my knees, and I used the staff to push myself back up. It jerked me back a step and I looked down in confusion to find that the bottom had gotten wedged into the shifting floor.

“Lucia, don’t be stupid!” Nell yelled from the door. “Leave it!”

She was right, the staff was a material thing and not worth dying over, but most of the floor was already gone and I just needed a second to get it loose.

It popped free and I grinned triumphantly despite the situation. My success was short lived though, because in another spectacular instance of bad timing, an explosion rocked the area from underneath us.

As I was falling, I had a moment to grasp that the unstable fusion core had gone off, no doubt from being jostled and having a ton of falling concrete land on top of it.

Then the moment passed, and I had to focus on not dying. I thrust the staff forward, trying to find purchase on something, anything, but it slid off uselessly.

The single stroke of luck I had was that where I’d been standing broke off in a large slab and dropped straight down rather than tipping back like with Alix.

On the other side of the room, the Boneclaw was losing its fight as well. It hung perilously onto the edge of the hole by only the claws of one arm when the material gave way and crumbled under its weight. The animal and I fell almost at the same time into the darkness below.

* * *

Not again, I thought when I opened my eyes to a pile of broken rock and darkness. This was becoming an all too familiar feeling. The first thing on my to do list when this was all over would be sleep without getting knocked out.

Forcing myself into a sitting position, I checked for injuries. Aside from another layer of cuts and bruises, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong, though my previously injured arm ached in its cast.

Rock shifted around me and the sound of falling water came from somewhere nearby. I felt around in the darkness, afraid the staff had been thrown out of reach. If it had, I might never find it in the total darkness.

Then my hand brushed the familiar etched metal and I closed desperate fingers around it. The staff moved but didn’t come away in my hands. The shaft glowed at my touch, a beacon of something not quite hope, but close. It revealed a few small rocks I easily moved, then the staff was in my grasp once more.

I turned the light up as bright as it could go and got to my feet. Turning in a slow circle, I studied my surroundings. It was an underground cavern filled with slabs of broken floor and rubble. The warehouse lift had fallen in and now lay on its side, a hunk of twisted steel and shattered glass.

All the debris in one area had been completely pulverized. From the fusion core, I guessed. It would explain why the blast hadn’t killed us all when it exploded. If it had been under a pile of heavy rock, that would have blunted the worst of the blast.

Looking up, I judged the fall to have been about twenty meters. The piece of floor panel I’d been on had landed on an already high mound of debris, which must have broken my fall.

I clambered up the mound, backsliding on some of the less secure bits as they came loose. Once I reached the top I called out above.

“Mark! Nell! Anyone up there?” I yelled, cupping my hand around my mouth to project the sound.

No one answered. I hoped that meant they were in the safety of the stairwell and not dead.

A groan cut through the silence and I whirled around, thinking it was Alix, but didn’t see her.

“Alix?”

No response.

I tracked left to right with the staff, moving around the area where she might have fallen. Its light fell on an outstretched hand and I almost tripped over the loose stone in my haste to get to her. When I reached Alix’s broken, lifeless form, I knew the noise hadn’t come from her.

She lay half buried under the wreckage. No one could have survived the damage her body had sustained, not even the immortal Eternals.

Something shifted behind me and released a heavy breath that lifted the loose strands of hair on my neck. Moving slowly, I pivoted on my heel and came face to face with the Boneclaw.

“Not Alix,” he whispered.

I backed up several paces until out of its arm’s reach and cocked my head at him. “Not Tiberius. Yet you speak,” I returned, trying to keep my composure.

This was not at all what I had expected.

A long scar on one side of his face looked familiar. Had I seen this Boneclaw before? He didn’t have Tiberius’ size or human-like hands. He had eyes, but they were milky and unseeing. I wondered fleetingly if they all had the ability to talk but we had never realized it.

So much for Tiberius being the only one, I thought. This Boneclaw seemed younger, and I wondered who he was to Tiberius.

“Are you here to finish me?” the creature asked, ignoring my statement with a note of derision in his voice.

“No. I fell down here, just like you. Besides, you chased us, not the other way around,” I pointed out.

He jerked a shoulder in a decidedly un-Boneclaw way. “After you attacked us in the cavern.”

I spread my hands in a peaceful gesture, forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t see it. “A misunderstanding. I wasn’t trying to hit anyone, only cause a distraction for my people to escape.”

“You can’t escape what you’ve done,” he replied harshly. “I know who you are. Your scent was on her. I recognize it now.”

Who was he talking about?

It hit me like a blast of cold water. The Boneclaw from my first hunt. He’d known her, had been to the kill site. I stared at him in horror when it clicked. The four Boneclaws who had come running to the gorge.

“She was my mother,” he finally said. It was unnerving to hear what I could recognize as grief in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I mean that. Our people...We didn’t know—”

“That we are intelligent?” he finished for me. “Why should that matter? You kill life. You destroy.”

“Your kind hunts the frost horn, don’t they?”

He didn’t respond.

“We hunt to survive, just like you. We fight to defend ourselves when in danger. Your people have been that danger. You’ve killed us, too.”

The Boneclaw fell quiet again and I got the feeling he was thinking over what I’d said.

“What’s your name?” I asked. “I’m Lucia.”

He scoffed at the question, then moaned when the movement caused him pain.

“You’re hurt,” I said, trying to get a better look at him without getting too close.

One of his legs bent out at an odd angle and a claw from his right hand had been torn out. A gash on his chest bled freely, the green streaming down his white fur.

“Your observation skills are unparalleled, Lucia, Daughter of Cyril,” he said wryly.

I sighed heavily. This creature was frustratingly hard to talk to. “Do you want my help or not?”

“Yes,” he said after a long pause. “Call me Othello, the name my father gave me to speak with your kind.”

“Who is your father?” I asked.

“Tiberius is his name,” he replied.

“Okay, Othello. I’m going to help you. Let’s get one thing clear, though. While I have no desire to hurt you, I will protect myself. You know the power of my weapon. You felt it firsthand in the caves.” He didn’t have to know that the staff was currently a glorified flashlight.

This time he stayed so quiet I thought he had passed out. His breaths came slow before he finally answered. “You have my word.”

I still didn’t trust him and kept an eye on his claws as I drew closer, then I stopped short. Othello lay in a shallow pool of water. I’d bet my rations it had come from the contaminated source Mark told me about.

“Othello, besides the obvious, do you feel alright?”

“No,” he admitted. “This water is poison. I can smell the death it carries.”

I stepped back again in case my next words set the big guy off. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to pull you out myself,” I told him. “But I can bring back help.”

Othello clicked in a way I quickly realized was a laugh. “It is as I suspected.”

“No, you’re wrong,” I insisted. “I will come back. Then you’ll see that we aren’t what you think.”

I started a search of the pit. It was possible that no natural passage existed, but there might be an artificial one, perhaps built by the Eternals themselves.

For the first time since I was old enough to attend Janus’ lessons, I regretted not paying more attention to them. I was careful not to touch the water as Mark had warned but worried it wouldn’t matter. Was it possible that the whole cavern was contaminated, and my very presence here already meant a future illness? Would my children, if I ever got around to having any, come out of me with misshaped faces and a shortage of fingers and toes?

I decided it was best not to dwell on it. With Othello practically taking a bath in the irradiated water, he was going to need help, and fast.

As I’d suspected, a passage leading out of the cave looked Eternal made. It had precision-cut stairs and a darkened monitor on the wall. If someone had been down here long ago, there was a path out.

“I’ll be back,” I called out over my shoulder.

Othello made a noncommittal grunt but said nothing else.

I climbed the stairs, careful not to touch anything, and came out onto a platform of sorts. There was a door that looked like it belonged to an elevator shaft, so I ignored it and continued up.

The next level had a manual door like the one the others had gone through, so I tried to open it. It turned out to be locked, so I trudged up another flight.

This time the door opened easily, and I poked my head out to take a peek. It was hard to tell without the map, but I figured it had to be the same building we’d been headed for when the floor decided to collapse.

The door shut behind me with a snap and I cringed a little, even though the danger had passed with Othello injured below.

Something clanged in a different area of the building. It had to be Mark and the others. I set off, looking for a way out. This part of the facility didn’t appear to be in the untouched condition of the office space we’d previously gone through.

Whereas the offices had clearly been for more mundane work, with tiny cubicles and drab décor, this place looked sleek and upscale. Except for the destruction.

All the furniture and equipment were in disarray, knocked over or broken into pieces when the people working here had fled. At first the debris looked chaotic, as if everyone in the vicinity had run in all directions at once. Then I looked closer, noticing there seemed to be a pattern to the mayhem.

I could almost imagine the scene unfolding in this area. Stampeding people, all pushing and shoving, knocking things over in their efforts to flee. The abandoned belongings and equipment highlighted the Eternals’ path out of the building. If I remembered Mark’s map correctly, it was the last stop before the caves.

The trail thinned out as there wasn’t as much debris to follow in less occupied areas. Every so often I would spot a lone shoe or bag that someone had dropped and continue that way. So far, I hadn’t seen any bodies, for which I was grateful.

At a split in the corridor, noises came from the left, like people running. Unless I’d been wrong, these came from a different direction than before. Frowning, I stopped, unsure which way to go. Something told me not to call out and reveal my position, so I stayed silent and turned left, winging it.

Some of the doors were still open, like the elevator that had been half open, and I peeked inside one of them. It was a lab, still wrecked, but not quite in as much disarray as the rest. When my light fell on a neat stack of fusion cores, it occurred to me that there was a treasure trove of untapped resources here.

I stepped inside and went to the table, intending to liberate them from their forever prison, but I stopped when I realized they wouldn’t be easy to transport. Deciding that now wasn’t the time to scavenge, I let them be, making a mental note to come back later.

“I’m telling you, I heard someone down here,” a voice whispered from out in the hall.

Unsure if it was friend or foe, I cut the staff’s power and looked around for somewhere to hide. If they had any kind of light, they’d have to be blind to miss me in here.

The number of footsteps didn’t seem to match the number of our group and I feared more of Mario's men had followed us into the facility.

As they shuffled closer, a beam of light fell across the open doorway.

One of them mumbled something half a meter away. I raised my staff high, ready to bring it down on the skull of whoever entered.

18

“Hey, watch it!” yelped Don, bumbling the light stick in his hands.

I angled the staff away just before it collided with the man’s face.

“Sorry, thought you were someone else,” I said, propping the shaft on my shoulder. “Is it just you?”

Don shook his head and stepped aside to reveal Jennifer.

“Lucia!” she squeaked. “You’re alive! We thought you were a goner.”

“You weren’t the only one,” I told her. “Where’s everyone else?”

The pair looked at each other with equally grim expressions. My heart plummeted at the thought of losing more people. We couldn’t have gone through hell and back only to fall at the finish line. The staggering injustice of that scenario was almost too much to bear.

“Guys?” I prompted. “What happened?”

Jennifer spoke first. “After we made it into the stairwell the only way to go was up,” she explained. “Without your light, Mark used the pad.”

She flicked a glance at Don’s light, pausing.

“What did you find?” I asked, unable to puzzle it out.

“Wolves,” Don finished for her, gulping. “The biggest den I’ve ever seen.”

“Everyone freaked out,” Jennifer continued. “Then I was stumbling alone in the dark until I saw Don’s light. Good thing you found that utility closet,” she told him.

Something in her tone caught my attention and Don nodded but looked at the ground nervously.

“What are the chances of that?” I wondered out loud. “Can I see it?”

“Sure,” he said, handing it over with a guilty expression.

I studied it for a moment then stared hard at the man. “This is one of our greenhouse lights. You didn’t get that from here.”

“I knew it,” scoffed Jennifer. “Your story just didn’t make any sense. How long have you had that on you?”

He didn’t have to say anything for me to guess the answer.

“From the beginning,” I said irritably.

Don nodded.

“Why did you let me disable our only weapon if you had that the whole time?” I demanded.

I knew this wasn’t the best time for an interrogation, but his actions had put everyone at risk, himself included.

“I was saving it in case I needed to break off from the group,” he muttered, then nudged his chin up in defiance to look at Jennifer. “Look, I’m the one who got it past the guards. And lucky for you I did. You’d still be running around alone in the dark if not for me.”

“Don’t turn this around to make yourself some kind of hero.” Jennifer fisted her hands on her hips and stared daggers at him.

Recognizing that the argument could draw attention, I waved my hands at them. “We can talk about this later. For now, let’s focus on finding the others.”

“I’m not finding anyone,” Don asserted. “Between the wolves, the Boneclaws, Mario, and radiation, they’re probably all dead by now. No, we should go home and send a hunting party to find them.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “Fine,” I said, handing the light stick back. “If you want to be a coward, I’m not going to try and convince you otherwise.”

When he took it, I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room, taking off in the direction I’d originally been headed. I couldn’t understand how someone could be so devoid of concern for his people. Then again, maybe it wasn’t so surprising after all, considering the uprising that Mario had facilitated.

Not everyone had been forced into it, I reminded myself. Some, whatever their reasons, had joined him willingly.

The idea made me question everything I thought I knew about my fellow colonists. Sure, most everyone was selfish, at least a little. You saw it every day in the compound. People arguing over whether some item belonged to them or cheating at a game. Even Nero’s romantic antics garnered him extra favors.

But this behavior went beyond getting an extra ration or being crowned this year’s tag ball champion. It spoke of an unrest that had to have been festering for a while.

Janus taught us about Earth history in detail—wars that had been fought, entire civilizations erased, and collapsed empires. Each one began with failures of leadership.

What mistake had my father made?

“Slow down,” Jennifer said, breaking into my reverie and coming to my side. “I never said I wouldn’t come with you.”

“Sorry,” I told her.

“It’s okay. He was being an ass,” the scavenger declared in a low voice. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he’ll come back.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked, doubtful at her words.

“He’s not going to stay here alone with the wolves on the hunt,” she said smugly.

We’d almost rounded the next corner of the long hallway when the sound of jogging feet came from behind us.

Just as Jennifer had predicted, Don had joined us.

I raised an eyebrow at her, and she grinned.

Don didn’t say anything. As I was about to make a crack about him changing his mind, something or someone squealed.

“Do you think that was one of the others?” Don squeaked.

“I doubt any one of us would be stupid enough to make that loud of a noise with wolves on the hunt,” I pointed out.

“That definitely wasn’t human,” Jennifer whispered urgently, no longer smiling. “I’ve heard that before in the caves. It’s a wolf, no doubt about that. I still don’t understand how they even got in here though.”

Don just looked terrified.

“Time to go,” I ordered, walking again.

“We came this way,” Jennifer said. “Didn’t find anything.

I told her about my theory regarding the trail of mess leading to an emergency exit.

“That’s pretty smart,” she said, giving me a nod of approval.

We followed the path a little longer, and sure enough it led us straight to a bank of elevators. To the left of them was a stairwell, and I felt a swell of relief when it came into view.

The door opened smoothly and the three of us trudged our way down to the next level. We would have kept going if not for the demolished steps leading away from the landing.

“Guess we’re going out this door. Hopefully there’s another way down,” I whispered, opening it a crack to check for danger.

The way looked clear, so I motioned the others forward.

This level held more of the same disorder as upstairs, but a quick search showed that it lacked another set of stairs.  I was ready to go back the way we came when the elevators caught my eye. The doors were open, but the cars themselves were missing.

I stuck my head inside one and swept the staff’s light around. It looked sound, or at least I didn’t see any obvious concerns. The elevator car sat two levels up and the bottom wasn’t quite visible in the staff’s light. When I turned around, Don jerked his head back and forth.

“There is no chance you’re going to get me down there,” he said.

“If you know of another way, I’m all ears.” I waited for him to say something.

“That settles it then,” Jennifer said, trying to conceal a smirk at Don’s discomfort and failing hard.

“What if the car gives way?” Don asked nervously. “Or we fall?”

“Then it will be over so quick you won’t even feel it,” Jennifer replied.

“Those cars have been sitting up there for almost two thousand years,” I reminded him. “I think they’ll keep a little longer.”

“What about your staff? You can’t climb down with one hand,” he pointed out in a last-ditch attempt to stall the inevitable.

He did have a point there.

Nothing on this level suggested the wolves’ presence, so I felt comfortable leaving them for a few moments. I’d seen an oversized bag with a long shoulder strap attached to it among the fallen items and went back to find it.

When I returned, I had the staff tied securely to my back. It wasn’t pretty, but it would work.

“Don’t drop the light, Don. With the staff on my back I can’t activate mine,” I warned him.

“Maybe you should hold it,” he told Jennifer, trying to thrust it at her.

“Oh no, Don, I couldn’t,” she said sweetly, pushing it back. “You earned it since you got it past the rebels.”

Though her little jabs were funny, they only served to rile up Don more. I gave her a warning look.

She rolled her eyes and nodded, saying she understood. “I’ll take the light and go first,” she offered. “That way you can follow me down, Don.”

“Yeah? That’s probably a good idea. You being the experienced scavenger and all. I bet you deal with this sort of thing all the time,” he rambled anxiously.

Jennifer held the light in her teeth and eased down into the elevator shaft. She gave me a brief nod, then began her descent in slow, careful movements.

Don and I stood at the edge and waited until she was on the next level. “Okay, you’re up,” I said, patting him on the back.

He swallowed hard, already sweating profusely, but did as I instructed. By the time it was my turn to go, the light had almost receded completely and I could barely see Jennifer.

I felt around for hand holds and lowered myself down, hoping I’d told Don the truth about the car not moving.

When I caught up to the other two, Jennifer had stopped. “How far down should we go?” she asked. “This could go down to sublevels we don’t even know about.”

“Did Mark say anything about that?” I asked, wracking my brain for the information.

“I don’t remember,” she admitted. “I kind of tuned him out after a while.”

“Three,” answered Don, surprising me. “He said when we got into the building, we would have to go down three levels to get out.”

Now that he said it, it did sound familiar. “Okay, so the floor I met you on, was that the level you came in on?”

“No, we came up one level,” Jennifer said from below. “We’ve come down two already, so two more to go.”

A squeal echoed somewhere above, and I peered into the darkness looking for the source. It was nearly impossible to see much of anything so far above us.

But even in the meager light, I could see the car suspended above our heads shudder with a metallic clang as something heavy landed inside. A scratching noise came from it, followed by another squeal.

I kept an eye on Don so I didn’t accidentally step on his head, but he was already shimmying down the shaft quickly, spurred on by a healthy dose of fear. Jennifer must have been on the move, too. I couldn’t see her light anymore.

The noises continued in the elevator above, but the brakes held, much to my relief. I thought we’d gone too far and was about to say as much when something reached out of the inky darkness and grabbed my arm.

“It’s me,” whispered Jennifer from outside the shaft.

“What the hell?!” I hissed. “I almost—”

“I know, sorry. My light died and I was keeping an eye out for you. I think there are definitely more wolves here.”

Once my heartbeat was more or less back to normal, I retrieved the staff from my back. I brought the light back gradually until our eyes were used to it again and did a silent check of our new surroundings.

“Looks—”

Before I could finish, shouting voices came from somewhere nearby, then they were mixed with baying and growling.  Gunfire erupted next, in a series of loud, reverberating pops.

“Either of you have a weapon?” I asked sharply.

Don shook his head then held up his hand at my pointed stare. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I haven’t even touched a gun in years. Don’t like ‘em.”

Somehow that information failed to surprise me. I was beginning to wonder how the man had even stood up to Mario in the first place.

“Me either,” said Jennifer, worriedly. “I didn’t think anyone did.”

“Okay,” I said, blowing out a breath. “You two should hang back. No sense going into a gunfight with no weapon.”

“Your staff isn’t exactly up to snuff at the moment,” she pointed out.

“It’ll have to do,” I told her.

“We’ll stay with you,” she said firmly. Then she nudged Don, who nodded.

“Sure. Run toward the guns and wolves, no problem,” he said sarcastically.

I didn’t bother to respond, just turned and did exactly what he’d said.

* * *

A few minutes later, the three of us stopped in a large room that looked like a receiving area. Our compound had something similar, but it was used for storage.

The fighting had stopped before we got there, but the slap of boots on the metallic flooring signaled someone’s approach. I disabled the light after motioning Jennifer and Don to hide behind a large pillar.

I looked out from behind my own and watched as a trio of bobbing lights came toward us. As they got closer, I could see that they were mounted flashlights on rifles.

My nerves jangled at the view because, as Jennifer had said, none of our people had weapons when we separated. If these were Mario's men, we were virtually at their mercy. That thought hadn’t occurred to me when I’d decided to run headfirst at the danger. Maybe there was something to Don’s cowardice after all. It made him more cautious, that was for sure.

“We need to find Jennifer and Don,” someone said as the group passed by my pillar.

“What about Lucia?” asked a familiar voice. It was Nell.

“There’s no way she survived that,” came the weary reply, who I recognized as Mark.

“About that,” I said, stepping out.

The three of them whirled around, bringing the rifles up.

“Gods, Lucia, what is wrong with you?!” yelped Mark. “We almost shot you.”

“I’m not sure if there was any way to show myself without causing some kind of reaction,” I said. “That’s why I waited until you passed. I’ve got Jennifer and Don.”

The pair came out from behind their pillar and gave a little wave.

“Is there another separated group?” I asked, noting that it was only Nell, Prime Lambert, and Mark who remained.

“No,” said Prime Lambert sadly. “The wolves took them when we got separated.

“How did you get out?” wondered Nell, staring at me in awe.

“Long story,” I replied. “There is something I have to tell you though. But first, Mark, I need to get the staff working again. Can I have the pad?”

He winced, then kicked at something on the ground and my heart sank. “It kind of broke when we got into that last fight. I had it in my hand looking for the way out and dropped it. Sorry,” he said.

I tried not to let my disappointment show and smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it. I can fix it when we get home. Though I don’t suppose you have any more of those rifles?” I asked hopefully.

“Nope, fresh out. We found them in a security room with the door wide open. The wolves were right behind us, so we only grabbed a few things then took off again.”

“You can have mine,” Nell said, moving to unclip the strap.

“No, you keep it,” I said, waving a hand at her. “My staff is still pretty deadly, even without the firepower. So, Mark, how about a way out of here?”

“That I can help with,” he said with a grin.

19

“We’re nearly there. This used to be the main entrance to the laboratories. The emergency exit should be right over there.” Mark pointed with his flashlight.

The beam landed on a pile of broken pillar. To the right of it, the auto doors were shut, but I didn’t see any sign of the emergency exit he was talking about.

“If we can get to it,” muttered Jennifer.

A sudden scratching came from down the hall and we all turned to stare in that direction. The baying of more approaching wolves finally snapped us out of our stupor and had us running where Mark directed.

We came around another pillar and skidded to a stop. There in front of us stood the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. The exit. A few beams of light tearing through the cracks told me this was the way out. I felt a swell of joy in my chest at the sight of it.

“Let’s get out of here!” I yelled. “Come on!”

I grasped the handle and pulled. The door didn’t budge.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Nell.

“Dammit,” I cursed, then kicked the door in anger. It nosed open an inch and I froze, then cleared my throat.

“Push, don’t pull,” commented Nell.

“Let’s just go,” I said, throwing my weight against the door. This time, it opened easily, beset by the outside light.

We exited into a kind of courtyard, squinting at the bright sky above us.

“If we just go straight, we’ll find the ingress to the main cave system,” Mark said, stepping forward. “Then we’re almost home.”

“Everybody ready?” I asked.

They all nodded back. Even Don had relaxed, the perpetual look of fear plastered on his face these last few hours gone, replaced by an expression that could even be called a smile.

The courtyard itself didn’t look too bad, though there was still the occasional dropped item. A piece of twisted metal rose out of the ground in the middle with a short wall around the bottom, creating a kind of basin. It didn’t look like any of the other wreckage. Its smooth construction was too perfect, and I wondered at its purpose. When we walked by, I saw that water had collected inside the base.

“It’s called a fountain,” Jennifer told me, noticing my puzzled expression. “Water would have come out from it, landed in the pool, then been recycled in a constant loop. I’ve seen similar designs in the fauna facility.”

“Seems kind of useless to me,” I said.

Yet another example of the Eternals’ opulence. Shaking my head, I moved on. We were through the rest of the courtyard in under a minute and facing more glass doors that led to the outer cave system. I didn’t hesitate this time, though I did give the handle a little jiggle to check which way it opened.

Then we were out of the fusion core facility and back inside the main cave system. A wave a fresh air hit me, and I breathed deeply. It wasn’t the same as being out on a hunt, but after being in a radioactive compound for the last few hours it felt pretty damn close.

“Grrr.”

“What?” I looked back at the others, but they looked confused as to who had made the noise.

The grrr came again and was soon joined by more. A lot more. At least a dozen wolves lay on the ground. I hadn’t seen them because in the dark they’d just looked like large rocks or more piles of debris.

One by one they began to stir, rising from sleeping positions and giving a little stretch before standing on all six legs and eyeing us hungrily.

“Back up, slowly,” I said out of the side of my mouth. “Let’s go back in.”

I kept my eyes on the creatures. Now that they were fully awake, they turned their attention to us. A few had already begun to stalk forward, mouths open and venomous tongues lolling.

One of them whined, eliciting a few excited squeals from the others. A tiny yip sounded from behind her, and a pup teetered into view on uncooperative legs. It was almost cute, except for the sucker sticking out of its mouth.

Prime Lambert opened the courtyard door but quickly shut it again. “No good,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “There are more out there.”

Right about then I really wished I hadn’t put the power cap on my staff.

“How much ammo do you guys have?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the now advancing wolves.

“Not enough,” Mark replied. “I’m an idiot. This was one of the spots Janus warned us about.”

“Anyone got a bright idea? Because now’s the time,” I said.

The corridor beyond the wolves spanned left and right, but if we tried to make a break for it the wolves would no doubt be on us in seconds.

The wolves suddenly stopped moving and pricked their ears, all turning to face the same direction. A deep rumble sounded, louder than the wolves’ growls and squeals, and I flicked my gaze back and forth, trying to find the source.

The ground shifted beneath our feet, smaller pieces of stone and debris bouncing slightly as the thumping came closer.

THOM.

THOM.

THOM.

If I hadn’t been so petrified, I might have laughed. The whole situation had either just gotten a lot worse or some kind of miracle was in the works.

“Is that what I think it is?” hissed Jennifer, glancing at the rest of us.

“I‘m pretty sure it is,” I answered.

The cave walls trembled and the ceiling groaned in protest as the Boneclaws advanced, so near now that I could hear their clicking.

The wolves slunk back, emitting keening noises low in their throats. The one with the pup picked it up gently in her jaws and carried it away.

The rest of the wolves followed suit when Tiberius burst into view—a frenzy of white fur and heavy limbs the size of tree trunks.

Tiberius slowed to a stop in the middle of the passageway as he stared at me.

Mario, Nero, and a few dozen rebels came in moments later from the opposite direction, all heavily armed.

“Put down your weapons,” Mario ordered, moving closer.

I nodded at Mark, Nell, and Prime Lambert to tell them it was okay. Slowly and cautiously, after some hesitation, they laid down their guns.

“You too, Visaro,” Costas said, motioning at my staff. “Don’t do anything stupid this time. My men will kill you before you can get a shot off.”

I almost spoke without thinking but remembered that he had no idea the staff was nothing more than a glorified flashlight at the moment. “Fine,” I said.

Resisting the urge to smile, I tossed it to him.

Mario caught it in one hand and dropped the rifle, letting it hang around his shoulder. Shock, then calculating glee registered on his face when it glowed blue in his grasp.

Come on, I thought. Do it.

For the first time, Mario did not disappoint me. The fool immediately turned the weapon on Tiberius.

“What are you doing?” the creature asked, fixing a piercing gaze on Mario.

“Taking control,” the man replied, aiming the staff at the Boneclaw. “Once I kill you, I’ll be lauded as a hero.”

The staff glowed and the tip lit, emitting nothing more than a few useless sparks. He stared down at it and I knew he was trying to figure out what was wrong.

I stepped forward. “He told me he planned to betray you. I modified the staff for a different purpose. It can’t hurt anyone. Now you know just how untrustworthy he is.”

Tiberius grabbed Mario with his massive hand before the rebel leader could even raise his rifle. “Your people are no better,” he growled.

The staff clattered to the ground, but I didn’t pick it up. I wanted to show Tiberius I meant no harm.

“You might be right,” I said, spreading my hands in an open gesture. “Still, I mean you no ill will today. I have to talk to you about Othello.”

Tiberius showed his fangs at the mention of his son. “What have you done?”

“Nothing, though he is injured and needs help. I can tell you where he is.”

“In exchange for what?” he snarled.

“Nothing,” I said, maintaining my calm. “I would prefer to live after this, but that’s up to you. I’m not demanding anything.”

I could tell the Boneclaw didn’t know what to make of me. In a show of good faith, I told him everything about my encounter with Othello.

A moment later, once I had finished, he gave a simple grunt. “Very well,” he said. “What of this one?” Tiberius glared at Mario. “You would prefer he live as well?”

“Not really, but I don’t want any more blood on my hands. You have my word he will pay for his crimes. We will no longer attack your people, so long as you don’t attack ours.”

“You cannot ensure such a thing. This one is merely the leader of some of your kind. You are not the leader of any,” the Boneclaw replied.

“She will be,” Prime Lambert said, edging forward. “Nero should never have been chosen, and the Primes involved will answer as well. I bear witness to her promise and she has my blessing.”

Tiberius did not answer right away but was instead silent. I could sense his mind working through it, taking all of this into account. He was, as far as I could tell, wiser than most men, and it would not do us well to keep him as an enemy.

Perhaps he felt the same of us. I hoped that was true, anyway. The last thing we needed was a war between two species, with one vying for the death of the other, a never-ending conflict that went on for generations, until only half of us remained. What would be the point of so much loss? What could any of it bring?

I prayed the Boneclaw saw what I saw. I hoped his dealings with humanity had not broken him yet.

Finally, the old beast’s eyes fell back on me, and he blinked and took a heavy breath. “Very well,” Tiberius decided. “Break faith with my people again and it will be the end of all of you.” He tensed his heavy fists and narrowed his eyes on me. “I swear it now, to each of you. I will wipe this land clean of Man should you betray your word today. Do not test me, now or tomorrow.”

I nodded my acknowledgement and stepped back. “You have my word.”

The Boneclaw dropped Mario. “Very well,  Lucia Visaro.”

I helped the others to relieve Mario's men of their weapons. With their lack of Boneclaw support, the coup stood no chance of success. These people knew that. They understood it was over, and now things could get back to normal.

No, not normal. We were far beyond that now. Whatever came next would be something new.

Better, I hoped.

“I must go now,” informed Tiberius. “Othello waits for me, but you and I will have much to talk about in the coming days.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

I watched the creature leave, each step shaking the very ground beneath my feet.

* * *

“Lucia!” a voice called out. I watched as Josef threaded through the mill of people to reach me.

I motioned at him as he approached. “I’m sorry, but we didn’t find the stolen cores.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

“The fusion cores we were sent to retrieve,” I reminded him.

“Oh, I’m not worried about those.” He waved the thought away then produced a datapad from his jumpsuit. “I’m just glad you’re alright. Mark told me your staff needs to be fixed?”

“Yes, please,” I said gratefully, holding it out.

We made quick work at bringing the staff back to full function and I felt more at ease for it. I told Josef all I had learned, with Mark and the others filling in the occasional gaps.

“This is disturbing,” Josef said when we had finished. “Something like this should not have been allowed to happen.”

“There will need to be new Primes brought forth, after the current apprentices have been investigated,” Prime Lambert said, then looked apologetically at Josef. “Not that I don’t trust you, Apprentice Braid, but after this disaster we must be sure.”

Josef nodded. “It is necessary. I know where my loyalties lie.”

“We’ll have to do a check of all our people,” I said abruptly. “I have a feeling Mario has more men we haven’t found.”

Lambert sighed. “You’re very likely right, Prospus Visaro. It will no doubt take quite a long time for the community to recover from this devastation. We must do our best to set things back to normal sooner rather than later. The people will not do well if things are dragged out.”

“You said she will be the next Director?” asked Mark, looking hopeful.

“Yes, Prospus Nagata,” Lambert replied. “She would have been chosen if not for the corruption that befell the ceremony.”

“Good, I have to confess that I don’t feel up to the task anymore. Working with computers is more my pace,” Mark said.

Everyone chuckled at his relief.

20

As much as I wanted to fall into bed and sleep for a week, some things could not be left waiting.

Prime Lambert and I met with Cyril and my mother to debrief on the events in Mario's stronghold and the fusion core facility.

Mario had been locked in a room alone until his fate could be decided. We didn’t know what to do with him, but the fact was that he was a traitor, and we couldn’t let that go unpunished.

Most of his men were released, however, to show mercy and hopefully return things to normal. They were pawns in this, it was decided, and most would not move against the colony again. If they did, then we would deal with them in a decisive and justified manner.

Besides, our colony was small. There were only a few hundred of us, which meant every loss of life took its toll on the greater whole. Less people meant a smaller genetic pool. It meant less viable parents. Fewer children to keep us going.

By the time everything was settled and the day was spent, my entire body ached, shouting at me to rest. I would in time, but not yet.

There was still one last thing I needed to do.

* * *

“No. I won’t allow it,” my father said from his bed in the medbay.

“Dad, I have to do this. I made a promise,” I countered. “You taught me to keep my word, and that’s what I gave him.”

“Send someone else,” he said firmly.

I exchanged a glance with my mother.

She gave me a nod before turning to my father. “Cyril,” she began. “Think about it: if she doesn’t fulfill her promise, this Tiberius creature will consider that a betrayal. It puts the colony at risk. Again.”

He harrumphed, but his forehead creased in thought.

“Alright,” he relented after nearly two minutes of silence. “But you’ll take a few other hunters with you. Between the wolves and Boneclaws roaming around, it would be madness for you to go alone. More than a few of our people have yet to be accounted for, and I can only imagine what has happened to them.”

“I’ll be back soon,” I said, embracing them both with a hug. “I’m glad you’re still not a fool.”

“I might be,” he replied. “Letting you go off like this. I’m probably the most foolish man in the colony.”

I kissed his cheek. “I can’t argue with that.”

A few minutes later, Josef met me in the medbay, bringing the cast I’d requested for Othello. The boy’s lips quirked up into an easy smile when he saw me. “I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” I answered.

“It’ll be fine,” he assured me. “Besides, you’ll need me to fit this cast on the Boneclaw, right?”

I sighed but nodded. “Fine,” I said, causing him to smile. “But if we run into any animals, don’t try to be a hero. Let the rest of us handle it.”

“I know where my skills lie,” he assured me, lifting the cast in his hand. “I—”

A woman screamed suddenly from down the hall, causing us both to pause. With a brief, exchanged look, we darted toward the noise, hoping to help.

As we arrived, we found Mario standing with a young woman in a chokehold, forcing her across the room. A flash of light at her throat drew my eye to the piece of broken glass he was holding.

“Stay back, all of you!” he yelled, jerking her from side to side.

My grip tightened on the staff and it began to glow.

“Lucia,” Josef warned. “Don’t.”

Mario was inching toward the door to the caves. He looked desperate and afraid, probably anticipating the worst possible punishment that our people could provide.

“Mario,” I said calmly, hands raised in a peaceful gesture. “Let her go.”

His eyes flashed to mine, wild with fear or madness, maybe both. He shook his head. “No. Get back. I’ll kill her! I’ll kill all of you if you try anything.”

He no longer seemed terrifying, not like he had before. Not in his desperation. The man standing before me was weak, consumed by stupidity and a primal need to live. He’d reacted emotionally and without reason, barely a thought in his head, and that made him a fool.

“No one needs to get hurt today,” I said, moving a few centimeters closer to him.

Mario's breaths came in pants and he flicked a glance around the room. A small crowd was quickly gathering, many armed and all of them angry.

“Give me the glass and stop this,” I said, holding out my hand.

His nostrils flared, the muscles in his neck bulging. “You want the glass?” he asked. “Why? So you can kill me yourself? That’s what you want. It’s what all of you want!”

“No one wants that,” I said, still trying to stay calm. “But you have to see there’s no way out of here. We can’t let you leave. Even if you did, you know the caves are too dangerous. You’d be killed within the week. Be smart about this. We can work all of it out. You don’t have to—”

“Shut your mouth, you idiot child!” he barked. “These people already have it in their heads that they want me dead, and that’s never going away. I’m not staying in a place that hates me, where every day I’m cursed. Look at the way they stare! Look!”

He shoved the woman roughly to the ground before lunging toward me.

My senses were a little dull from the fatigue and my reaction equally slow. I threw a forearm up to protect my face and grunted at the burning sensation as the glass tore into my flesh.

Mario slashed again, but I twisted to one side and grabbed his wrist as it whipped past my face. I tried to break his grip on the sharp object but couldn’t manage a hold.

He had perhaps fifteen centimeters on me and a lot more muscle, with years of practical experience. Crazy or not, he was still a highly skilled hunter.

Mario broke my grip easily, jerking me forward and delivering an elbow strike to my chin. My ears rang and my vision blackened as my head reeled.

Shaking it off, I stepped in when he expected me to pull back, then stomped on his foot. It worked, loosening his grip, and I slammed my fist into the still-raw knife wound on his chest. Mario yelped and pushed me away.

“This is all your fault,” he wheezed. “Things were going to change.”

Guards arrived, weapons trained on him.

“You need to take responsibility for your own stupidity,” I snapped at Mario, waving away the guards with my clean hand.

Mario snarled and launched himself at me again. This time, I sidestepped his attack and delivered a kick to the inside of his right knee. He went down to one leg and I caught him in the throat with a hard right jab, knocking him to the floor.

His empty hand went up to his throat as he gasped for air.

I placed a knee on his chest and a foot to his wrist, quickly wrestling the shard from his grasp, then I flipped the glass in my hand and stabbed it into his chest until he groaned.

“This is directly over your heart,” I said between gritted teeth as I leered over his snot-covered nose. “It is over!”

Mario's lips twisted. “Yes...it...is…!”

He grabbed my fist with both hands and pushed the glass into my knuckles. I gasped and let go as the sharp edge sliced into my palm.

I fell back and crawled to my feet, half-expecting him to get up. Instead, he did the opposite, lying there for a moment and staring up at the ceiling as the blood began to pool out of him.

“Doctor!” I yelled to the crowd behind me. “Get the doctor!”

But it was no use.

The bastardized grin was still on his face when the last breath left his body.

* * *

Shortly after Mario's forced suicide, Josef and I, along with a few of our best hunters, went to meet with Tiberius, who had gone through the work of moving Othello to a better location. I instructed them to wait outside and keep an eye out for wolves while Josef and I continued.

“You came,” Tiberius said when we entered the courtyard, the air crisp and clear, and the bright light of the sky shining down.

“As I said I would,” I replied. “This is Josef, an engineer and a trusted friend.”

Janus had activated scanners in the area and come up with a proposed radiation treatment plan, which I held out for the massive Boneclaw to see.

“Medicine for Othello,” I said when he didn’t answer. “I would give it to you, but it is made for human hands.”

“I thank you.” Tiberius nodded at me, then gestured behind him to where Othello waited.

The other Boneclaw lay listlessly on the stony ground inside the courtyard.

I walked over and put a hand on his large forearm. “This might pinch a bit, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Get it over with,” he wheezed.

Pushing the injector down to get it close to the skin, I pressed the button. Othello jerked slightly but otherwise didn’t react.

“Josef,” I called over my shoulder.

A warning growl came from Tiberius and I glanced up to see him blocking Josef’s way with one arm.

“What is this?” he asked, eyeing the case suspiciously.

I sighed. It would be a long road to trust for us both.

“A brace to set Othello’s break. Josef helped me to create it.” I strode over and opened it slowly. “See?” I held up my arm to show him the similar construction.

Tiberius peered inside at the contents. He grunted and let us pass.

Together, Josef and I assembled it around Othello’s injured leg. When it was ready, Josef activated it. The brace retracted and snapped the bone back into place with a crack that echoed in the small yard, and Othello roared in pain.

“Sorry!” Josef said quickly. “But it should be alright now.”

Othello said nothing as he moved into an upright position. We backed up to let Tiberius help him to his feet until he stood awkwardly on one leg, slowly lowering the other.

After a few successful practice steps, Tiberius nodded to me and Josef. “You’ve kept your word,” he said, watching Othello. “We will meet again to discuss the future for both our people, but today you have done well.”

“When will we see you again?” I asked.

“Six days at this time,” he answered. “That is when we will forge our peace.”

* * *

Another Selection Ceremony took place soon after the events involving the coup.

It went pretty much the same as the first, although without the interruption afterward. The newly appointed Primes officially chose me as the next Director, though the announcement was bittersweet.

Aside from myself, only Mark and Nell had been allowed to grace the stage. Allan had chosen exile with Nero and a few others.

Karin…well, I’d hoped she was watching from somewhere. We’d retrieved her body, along with any others we could find. In the days after Mario's death, a mass funeral had been held in the hangar to celebrate the lives they’d lived and mourn their passing.

Elder Laurell Kimble had shuffled in, eyes bright with mischief and completely unharmed.

Every time someone asked her how she had survived, the old hunter would launch into a story about how she fought off Tiberius and two of his kind with a slingshot she fashioned from the bones of the dead in their lair. Funnily enough, the number of Boneclaws always seemed to increase with each retelling.

Tiberius himself told me that the killing of an Elder didn’t sit well. Unsure of what to do with Laurell, he had indeed taken her to a cave, though not their lair, and certainly not one filled with corpses.

To hear his side, Laurell had reprimanded the King of the Boneclaws for falling in with the likes of Mario to begin with. Tiberius had returned her before our meeting, where he had planned to hand her back to us in a show of good faith.

Prime Elias Doyle still awaited judgement for his actions, though I wasn’t convinced he had worked alone.

But there had been a silver lining when Josef took his place.

He had even put the pin on me, a silver design like the Primes wore. A trio of right-facing chevrons, the last of which winged out. It had been crafted from scrap metal and I wore it proudly.

My father had balked at first to my agreeing to meet Tiberius, which would become a weekly event, but he had been convinced by my story and the other primes. Now, he beamed proudly and presented me to the gathered colony. “This is my daughter,” he said to the world. “The next Director of our people.” His words were met with applause and cheers that filled the hangar, and I felt a swell of pride at the man who had trained me, loved me, and raised me.

When it was over, the people feasted, and we all played games to celebrate. Children laughed and played chase while adults ate and gossiped, whispering of the Boneclaws and the girl who had spoken to them.

It was one of those rare days outside, clear skies and calm winds, and someone had opened the hangar door slightly to let in the fresh air. A lone figure stood looking out and I knew it was Nell.

She’d mostly kept to herself since our return and a number of the community still avoided her. I approached her side, both of us standing in amiable silence.

For a long time, we stared out at the white valley, the fields of our ancestors.

Beyond the quiet, however, a storm brewed along the horizon, and I felt a chill in my chest.

“We’ve entered new territory today,” Nell finally said. “An intelligent Boneclaw leading the rest. There’s no telling where things will go next.”

“A better place, maybe,” I said.

“Maybe,” she replied, quiet for a moment before continuing. “But how long can peace really last, I wonder?”

“As long as it can, I suppose,” I answered, placing my hand around her shoulder. “But that’s a question for tomorrow. In the meantime, what do you say we have ourselves a drink?”

She smirked. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

We turned, and I looked up to see another friend. Across the room, Josef locked eyes with me and smiled.

The future looked bright indeed.

Epilogue

Twenty-three years had passed since I became Director, and now I cupped a hand around my heavy, pregnant belly as I leaned against one of the smaller boulders to my side.

Snow fell gently around me, and I tipped my head back to let the flakes melt on my face. With the power glitches happening even more often, it was a treat to be outside without worrying it would go dark at any moment. Even if one of our wild snowstorms flared up, I had the shuttle to take me home.

Josef didn’t exactly like the idea of his wife going to meet with the King of the Boneclaws, but he understood the importance of treaties. At least, I hoped he did.

Tiberius and I still met every year to discuss the affairs of our communities. Many things had changed over the years, but never this.

The ground rumbled to announce his arrival, and I craned my head to look for him against the white backdrop of the valley. The giant Boneclaw wasn’t hard to spot when he was moving. To this day I had yet to meet one of his kind of a comparable size.

It seemed to me that his lumbering gait was slower than usual, and I wondered if he had been injured. When he drew near, I stood and gave him a once over with my hands on my hips.

I raised an eyebrow when he finally came within a few meters. “Why are you walking like that?” I asked.

He scoffed and waved the question away, reminding me of my father, who had made a habit of doing that since his retirement, particularly at the young ones who caused a ruckus or asked stupid questions.

“Not you, too,” Tiberius complained. “It’s as if, because I’m showing my age, everyone thinks I am too weak. I assure you, Lucia, I am still myself. I could tear apart six frost horns right now if I wanted to.”

I chuckled lightly. “I’m sure you could, old man.”

He returned my laugh with one of his own, and it was so loud I felt it in my chest. “That thing in your belly,” he said, changing the subject. “Othello tells me you are to be a mother soon. Have you decided on a name for the cub?”

“I have,” I replied. “They tell me it’s a girl.”

He nodded approvingly. “Then she will be strong, as you are.”

“I hope she is stronger,” I said, smiling a little. “I’ve chosen the name of a great warrior who once saved my life. She will have much to live up to.”

“If she is your kin, then I have no doubt about it,” said Tiberius. “So, what is the name?”

“My daughter will be Karin,” I answered, gracing my stomach with the palm of my hand.

“A name to give her courage,” said Tiberius, nodding his understanding. “She will be a fine warrior, like her mother, and a great leader, I am sure.”

“You are too kind,” I said, and in that moment I felt a kick. “Oh, there she goes.”

“Does she move?” he asked. “Already the spirit wakes to fight. It is a good sign. She will be strong and fierce.”

I smiled at his words. “You might be right.” I cleared my throat and waddled closer to him, taking a seat on one of the larger stones. “For now, the child will have to wait. You and I have matters to attend to.”

“That, we do,” he said, shifting where he sat to better face me. “Speak, Director, so that I might hear you.”

* * *

Lucia will return later this year. In the meantime, if you’re new to the Renegade Universe, you can catch up on Lucia’s later adventures by checking out the Renegade Star series, exclusively on Amazon.

Stay up to date with all of my new releases, news, and all the latest discussions by joining the Facebook group, J.N. Chaney’s Renegade Readers.

Renegade Star Preview

Chapter 1 of Renegade Star

“I’ll fucking kill you!” screamed William Emmerson as he ordered his security personnel to fire in my direction.

“Good luck with that!” I returned, brushing the side of a moss covered tree, nearly tumbling in the process.

I tore through the woods outside the Emmerson Estate, having just stolen an object worth two hundred thousand galactic credits—a small metal orb about the size of my fist.

A merchant named Fitz, one of Emmerson’s rivals, had hired me to deliver this junk for a reasonable price. I didn’t really give a damn about their feud, but the pay was good and I needed the work.

“Stop him!” shouted Emmerson. “Someone stop him!”

Dogs barked far behind me as I neared the clearing. If Emmerson thought a couple of mutts and some hired goons would be enough to slow me down, he was in for a wild surprise.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a calm and familiar voice in my ear. It was Sigmond, my ship’s A.I. unit. “I see you’re being chased. Shall I drop the cloak and prepare for departure?”

Another energy blast buzzed my head, throwing a shower of splintered tree bark and oxidized sap into my face. I gripped my pistol and swung around, spotting the guard responsible between the many branches and thick undergrowth. I waited for a clean shot, squeezed the trigger, and fired.

The bullet flicked through a patch of leaves and went straight into the man’s leg, causing him to dive to the ground. At that, I turned back around and kept running. “That’d be great, Siggy!”

“As you wish,” he replied.

I tore through the tree line and entered a vast, green field. “Try to make this quick, pal, unless you wanna be homeless.”

“Perish the thought, sir.”

The Renegade Star rippled as it phased into visibility right in the middle of the valley. Several more security personnel came running, emerging from the forest, setting their sights on me and firing.

I burst forward, shredding grass with the heel of my boot. Several shots echoed from behind. No time to slow down.

“Hurry!” shouted Emmerson, joining his hired help near the trees. He continued with a garbled, unintelligible slew of insults.

Meant for me, of course.

I turned and aimed as I ran, shooting as accurately as one could expect, given the situation. I was a decent shot—maybe even good—but I couldn’t hit a target that far away while I was running in the other direction, much as it pained me to admit it. As a result, nearly every shot dug into the ground or, at best, the overhead leaves of the surrounding trees.

Four dogs entered the field a second later, snapping their jaws as they raced after me. Within a few short seconds, they were already halfway across the glade.

“Get us out of here,” I said, finally reaching the lowered gate at the rear of my ship. “Raise the lift!”

The dogs were closing in. I could hear the anticipation of the kill in their labored breaths as they gained ground.

The cargo bay gate began to rise, and I leapt into it, sliding along the floor with my pistol trained out the narrowing airlock.

The animals tried to jump in after me but fell short. They leapt and snarled, showing their teeth as the half-closed lift continued to raise.

Several blasts struck the hull. I heard Emmerson screaming with hate in his voice, but the words were too distorted to make out.

The Renegade Star ignited its thrusters with thunderous acclaim, rattling the metal flooring as I tried to stand.

The nearby screen along the wall blinked to life, showing the view from outside my ship—nearly two dozen armed guards and their master aiming their rifles at me and firing.

More shots peppered our hull, but I knew we could take it. This ship was built to withstand a hit from a quad cannon, so a little handheld firepower wouldn’t do much except scrape the paint.

As the airlock sealed and daylight was replaced by the cruising floods, we accelerated. For a brief moment, I felt the pressure, until the stabilizers kicked in and it was smooth sailing.

At about this time, we entered the stratosphere. From Emmerson’s point of view, we were already gone.

I ran up the stairs and made my way to the cockpit, where I took my seat and strapped in. On the dash, an old bobblehead of Foxy Stardust, a cartoon character, was still bouncing from the earlier turbulence. She had a white helmet with a neon-blue visor and a pink spacesuit.

“Raising the cloak,” said Sigmond right as we entered the stratosphere.

No doubt, Emmerson was fuming over what I’d done.

It wouldn’t matter soon. After I delivered this trinket to Fitz, all the blame would shift to him. If there was any revenge to be had, Fitz would bear the cost of it, not me. That was how it usually went for people in my line of work. We did the job, but the client shouldered the blame.

My name is Jace Hughes and I was a Renegade, a hired hand to steal, smuggle, or loot anything you needed. I’d been known to do any manner of unsavory job if the need arose and the money was right.

And I’d keep on doing it until I was dead.

It was the life I’d chosen, and I had no regrets.

* * *

“What the hell is this?” I asked, staring at the blinking red light on the dash.

“That would be the warning light, sir,” remarked Sigmond.

“Since when do we have a warning light?” I asked. “And how do I make it stop?”

The light went dead as soon as I finished. “Apologies, sir. It seems our sudden departure triggered it. The sensors were overwhelmed.”

“Oh,” I said, turning back to the holographic display on my dash, showing the current battlefield. Over four hundred ships across two fleets were currently fighting it out, blasting themselves to pieces. I couldn’t say why this was happening. That’s not why I was here.

We were flying above Galdion, an isolated planet on the edge of the galaxy. I’d arrived in pursuit of an item of interest—the orb currently resting beside my right leg. Had I known I’d be leaving through a war-zone, I might have come at a later time.

“Any sign of detection?” I asked, referring to the nearby ships.

“Not yet,” answered Sigmond. “They appear to be unable to detect our cloak.”

“How soon can we jump?” I asked, bringing up the star map.

“Approximately forty-five seconds," responded Sigmond. "Longer if we die.”

“Funny as always, Siggy.” I punched in the coordinates for Taurus Station, our next destination and my current home of record.

“Thank you, sir,” said the A.I. “I really do aim to please.”

The ship jerked sideways, and I gripped my chair. “The hell!” I barked.

“Shields are holding,” remarked Sigmond, an unimpressed tone in his voice. Normally, A.I.’s weren’t outfitted with personalities, but I made it a point to request one when I had Siggy commissioned. If I was going to spend weeks at a time inside this ship, it wouldn’t be with a monotone, talk-me-to-sleep artificial intelligence. “Neither side has spotted us yet, thankfully, and the cloak is holding. Both enemy shots were targeted at other ships.”

Some distance from the planet, several Master Class Cruisers lay waiting. It would be difficult to leave this area without being spotted, even with the cloak. The smaller fighters won’t be able to detect us, I thought. But those Cruisers might. “We’ll have to show ourselves soon right before we make the slip. Think we’ll have enough time?”

“I believe so, sir,” said Sigmond. “Though I may have to return fire should they spot us.”

“Let’s try to avoid a firefight, Siggy. The last thing I need is another warrant.”

“Perhaps next time you won’t bring us to such a dangerous location,” said Sigmond.

“I will if I want to eat,” I told him. “Or would you rather we not get paid?”

“There must be easier lines of work,” said Sigmond.

“Easier ain’t always better, Siggy,” I said with a grin. “I’ll take the Renegades over sitting behind a desk any day of the week, thank you very much.”

Another blast rocked the ship, this time from the rear, and the attacking vessel passed by overhead. It was an Arnesian raider. “Are we ready yet?” I asked.

“Incoming slip in twelve seconds,” said the A.I.

I watched the two fleets duke it out, with ships exploding across the battlefield like fireworks, leaving fields of floating debris in their wake. In a matter of hours, the entire orbit of this planet would fill with wreckage. Dozens of salvage crews were likely already standing by, eager to resell the parts to the open market, possibly to the very organizations involved in this fight. Ships would be rebuilt, pilots trained, and the cycle would continue. Before I joined the Renegades, I might’ve been there with them, waiting for my scraps.

Not anymore. Now I had a more active profession. Sure, it was dangerous, and I’d probably get myself killed before I turned fifty, but I’d rather die from a blaster than boredom.

“Dropping the cloak and initiating slip,” announced Sigmond.

I gripped the manual controls for the quad cannons. “Let’s do it.”

The screen showed the cloak dropping, leaving us vulnerable to detection. “Readying slip,” indicated Sigmond. “Six seconds until activation.”

I nodded. “That should be quick enough to—”

Before I could finish, two Arnesian raiders broke formation, turning toward us. “We’re being scanned,” said Sigmond. “They are readying weapons.”

I let out a quick sigh. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

I aimed the digital reticule at the first ship, squeezing the trigger once the computer had the lock. The quad cannon sprayed a series of rapid shots at the enemy vessel, punching a six-meter hole straight through its cockpit, obliterating the pilot and setting the ship to drift like a dead fish in a calm lake.

Immediately, I turned my attention to the second, firing another wave. To my surprise, one of the shots tore through the center of its hull, splitting it apart instantly and igniting its core. The propulsion engine reacted the only way it knew how—by exploding.

The ship shattered into countless pieces of unsalvageable dust, scattering towards the planet.

The rest of my shots continued, unabated, into the darkness of space. A few fell to the planet’s surface, followed by the debris from the destroyed ships, most of which would disintegrate before it could touch the ground. My shots, however, would continue until they hit something. Part of me wondered if any of them would strike Emmerson’s plantation, but I wouldn’t stick around to find out.

I had things to do.

“Initializing slip,” said Sigmond, and suddenly, the entire battlefield vanished.

I watched as we entered the slip tunnel, the buried dimension that doubles as an express lane. Most of slipspace was still largely unexplored, but at some point, we figured out how to use it to transport ourselves across vast distances. Traveling through it wasn’t instantaneous by any means, although it was certainly faster than using normal space. Instead of taking centuries to travel from one star system to another, you only had to wait a few hours, maybe days or weeks, depending on how far apart the systems were.

Right now, I was looking at six standard hours, give or take a few minutes. That gave me time to nap and take a piss, maybe snag a sandwich. “Siggy, let me know before we’re out. I need to be alert when we get there.”

I leaned back in my chair, observing the passing lights along the slip tunnel. I had no idea what they were, and I didn’t care to learn. I wasn’t a scientist, and I liked the mystery.

I reached down beside my foot and touched the package, a metal orb, tightly secured. I’d risked my life to track down, retrieve, and deliver this thing.

Whatever it was, it must hold some kind of value, I wagered, but gods only knew if I’d ever find out. Scans had shown it to be safe, so it wasn’t a bomb or anything dangerous.

In my time running jobs, I’d pulled a few heists for collectors, so I knew this crap sold well on the market. Fools like Emmerson paid millions to have them dug from the ground and placed in a dark room, giving artificial value to a meaningless trinket. If you asked me, it all came down to someone with too much money to spend, looking for more ways to spend it.

That was fine with me, because jobs like this kept me employed.

Being a Renegade sometimes meant doing whatever job you could get, so long as it kept your ship in the sky. It meant shutting up and getting paid.

Outside of that, nothing else mattered.

* * *

Continue reading Renegade Star, available exclusively on Amazon.

Books in the Renegade Star Universe

Renegade Star Series:

Renegade Star

Renegade Atlas

Renegade Moon

Renegade Lost

Renegade Fleet

Renegade Earth

Renegade Dawn

Renegade Children

Renegade Union

Renegade Empire

Renegade Descent (Out Now)

Renegade Rising (July 2019)

The Renegade Origins Series:

Nameless

The Constable

The Constable Returns

Warrior Queen (Out Now)

The Last Reaper Series:

The Last Reaper

Fear the Reaper

Blade of the Reaper (Out now!)

Wings of the Reaper (July 2019)

The Orion Colony Series:

Orion Colony

Orion Uncharted

Orion Awakened

Orion Protected (Out Now)

The Fifth Column Series:

The Fifth Column

The Fifth Column: The Solaras Initiative (June 2019)

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About the Author

J. N. Chaney has a Master of Fine Arts in creative writing and fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. When he isn’t writing or gaming, you can find him online at www.jnchaney.com.

He migrates often but was last seen in Avon Park, Florida. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.