

PAUL BROATCH

CITY OF LIGHTS

Book 1 Red and White Series

Also by Paul Broatch

THE WORLDS WITHIN

RUNNING THE RIFT

This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

First published 2015 under the name White: A Shard of God

Copyright Paul Broatch 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher. Paul Broatch asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Published by Paul Broatch at Smashwords

"The supreme art of war is to subdue the enemy without fighting."

― Sun Tzu, The Art of War

Remember that all through history, there have been tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they seem invincible. But in the end, they always fall. Always."

― Mahatma Gandhi, The Story of My Experiments With Truth

Contents

1 The Attack – July 7

2 Home

3 Species

4 An Offer

5 Escape

6 A Killing - July 8

7 Friends and Enemies

8 A Touch of the Divine

9 The Hive – July 9

10 The Warehouse

11 The Raid

12 A New Face

13 Evidence

14 Jail Break

15 ChaosPlague - July 10

16 Running the Gauntlet

17 Fighting Back – July 11

18 Plans

19 The Broadcast – July 12

20 Meeting – July 13

21 Firestorm

22 The March – July 14 – Bastille Day

23 Lights Out

24 Power Station

25 Confrontation

26 A beginning and an End

27 Pandemic

Acknowledgements

Discover other titles by Paul Broatch

1: The Attack - July 7

The demonstrators marched down the road towards the Government precinct. A noisy, rag-tag coalition of green groups and poverty protesters. They waved placards and flags and chanted slogans, led by an acne-scarred youth with dreadlocks and an old loudhailer. It was a passionate riot of noise and colour. The scruffily dressed people seemed like alien invaders as they passed through the Core ̶ the heart of the city ̶ the roads lined with trees, outdoor cafes, ultra-modern shops and towering buildings. Customers and shop owners stared warily at them from behind the protection of armour glass, and the residents shouted abuse from the safety of upper story balconies. Between the demonstrators and their destination stood a solid line of police in black riot gear. As the two groups converged, the noise and chanting reached a crescendo. Then they were face-to-face: unarmed, passionate, peaceful protesters demanding justice and equality facing down the silent, menacing line of armoured men and women in gas masks.

An amplified voice rang out. "This is an illegal demonstration. Disperse now or you will be fired on."

The orders were met with shouting and jeering. The acne-scarred youth screamed his fury and defiance, just inches from the wall of plastic riot shields. They refused to back off; refused to have their demands ignored.

Trucks with large cannons mounted on them swung in behind the police. There was a moment of calm ̶ time stood still for just a moment ̶ and then sudden violence exploded. A baton struck out, and blood flew from the face of the leader. He stumbled away clutching his head and tried to flee into the crowd. In seconds, a 'snatch squad' of five riot police rushed out, shoving the crowd back as they dragged the leader down and beat him mercilessly with batons while he desperately tried to protect himself. Then they dragged him back behind the police line for processing.

Tear gas canisters started raining down on the protesters, spewing out clouds of acrid vapour. The police line moved forward. Dogs charged through the lines, teeth bared, grabbing at men and women, dragging them down. The protesters defiance began to crumble; they began to run. There was a heavy thump and a projectile arced out toward the rear of the march, expanding as it went into a net of fine, sticky fibres. The protesters tried to get out from underneath it, but they couldn't move quickly enough, tripping and trampling over one another. The net descended, its sticky filaments adhering to bodies, entangling and immobilising them.

Protesters fled the chaos down side streets and alleys, anywhere to avoid the attacking police and dogs. They were hunted down, beaten, and thrown into waiting vans.

A young couple with a small girl of eight or nine ran for their lives. The man went down suddenly, hit by a plastic bullet, sprawling on the concrete, clutching in pain at his back. The woman dragged him to the glass wall of a shop. She called out, but the terrified child just stood there frozen in the street. Armoured men emerged from clouds of tear gas behind them.

The man looked back down the road towards the chaos and the advancing police, then he turned to his family. "Run! You can still get away."

The woman shook her head and tried desperately to help him to his feet, refusing to leave him to his fate.

Suddenly, the door to the shop opened and a huge man stepped out between them and the advancing police. The child screamed. Another man emerged and strong arms grabbed the wounded man under the arms and dragged him inside. "Quickly, inside before they get here," he said.

The woman darted out and grabbed the child and the little family hurried inside, followed by their huge guard. The second man, a tall, handsome man, with longish brown hair and blue eyes ushered them to the back of the shop and through a steel door. "Stay here and stay quiet." He turned.

"Eric," he called out to the giant. "Close the outside door and opaque the glass." Then he went back into the shop, shutting the door behind him. The family huddled together, the girl sobbing with terror. They were in what looked like a museum warehouse.

After about half an hour, the door opened and the brown-haired man walked in. He knelt down next to them. "How are you?" he asked.

"We're ok," the woman answered unconvincingly.

"How's your back?" he asked the man.

"I think I've got some broken ribs, but I'll live. Thank you. Thank you for helping us."

The brown-haired man smiled. "You're welcome. The police have cordoned off the area, so you're going to have to stay here for a few hours until things die down. Once it's safe, we'll take you home."

"Thank you," the woman said.

"You're welcome," he paused, "look, you might want to avoid protest marches for a while." He glanced at the little girl. "The police are getting more and more violent all the time. It's just not safe." The couple nodded sombrely.

The big man came in carrying some food and drinks. As he moved, they could hear the humming of the augmentation of his exoskeleton. He squatted down and handed the tray to the woman. The little girl looked at him with great, wide eyes. He looked at her and smiled. Then, from his pocket, he produced a small, green origami frog. He put it on the floor and pressed down on it making it jump and land on the girl's lap. She looked down at it, and the tears were replaced by an uncertain smile. He gave the girl a wink and returned to the shop.

**

The music was loud, so loud she thought she could feel her bones vibrating in time to the beat. It was almost a physical force, causing her to resonate to its rhythm as she danced in the seething mass of people. The air was hot and stifling: poorly ventilated and breathed too many times. It made her feel claustrophobic. She glanced up as she turned. Part of the floor above had collapsed, forming a kind of mezzanine level. People stood at the edge, looking down on the dancers. The people around her were frozen in stroboscopic flashes of light, pushing and shoving as they jumped and gyrated. Between the flashes, bioluminescent neons pulsed in time to the beat, buried under the skin of a group of Augs. Living light shows.

Maria was tiring. Her body was slick with sweat and her dress clung to her, soaked and stained. Next to her, Nina was dancing with wild abandon, eyes closed, mesmerised by the pulse and flow of the music and probably the drugs in her water bottle. Maria had to get out, had to find fresh air.

She grabbed at Nina's arm. Her friend's eyes flicked open, failing to focus for a moment but then registering her, she smiled. Maria mimed that she needed a break, and Nina nodded. Together they forced their way through the crowd to the edge of the room. Maria cupped her hands to Nina's ear "I need to get out of here. I need some air." Nina nodded, and they pushed through the people standing at the edge of the dancers to a doorway that led in turn down a short corridor to a balcony. At one time, a door would have closed off the end of the corridor, but now it was open to the air. A breeze flowed past them, drawn in by the heat of the dance. It felt cool and fresh on her skin. A small group of jackers sat crouched, backs against one wall, eyes unfocused, their minds in a different place.

"Damn jackers," Nina muttered under her breath.

"They don't hurt anyone," Maria said, pushing her forward.

They walked slowly past them, keeping close to the opposite wall, even though the jackers were clearly plugged in and oblivious to everything around them. As they passed, one looked up at them suddenly, his gaze vacant, maybe reacting to the sound. She could see the flashes in his eyes from the projections on his contact lenses, and the small silver disk imbedded in his temple that was his jack. Then he looked away again, drawn back into whatever electronic dream world he inhabited.

"Damn, it freaks me out when they do that," Nina muttered.

They stepped out onto the balcony. The tiles were chipped and broken, cracking under their feet. The breeze was stronger in the open, chilling the sweat on their skin. Maria felt goose bumps beginning to rise. Above them, they could hear the steady thrumming of the wind generators on the roof that provided the power for the party. A single, red glow-globe was fixed just above the door, bathing them in a ruddy light. They went to stand at the edge of the balcony. The steel and glass balustrade was still in one piece, but they didn't trust it enough to risk leaning on it.

The dance party was being held on the tenth floor of a derelict building on the edge of the city, deep in what was known as the Flooded Quarter. Below them, she could see the shallow water that soaked the feet of the buildings, and beyond that the sea. She had heard, once, that this part of the city had been a commercial district with towering skyscrapers and broad avenues leading down to a vibrant harbour with bars and restaurants that overlooked the water and gleaming yachts. She'd never seen it like that; it was long before she was born. Now it was a desolated ghost town of ruined, rusty buildings, where the only sounds were usually the lapping of water and the occasional cry of a night bird. She looked up; between the scudding clouds she could see the bright stars; one benefit of the dark neighbourhood.

"You ok?" Nina asked, touching her arm.

"Yeah, just tired. What's the time?"

"Just after one. The night's still young." She did a little pirouette.

Maria just shook her head and pulled her water bottle from her hip belt. "Maybe, but I'm getting too old for this."

Maria laughed. "Nah, you just need a little assistance." She waved her laced water bottle at Maria.

"No thanks." They stood there in silence, breathing in the cool night air for a few minutes. The claustrophobic feelings began to subside, and Maria started to feel better.

"Hey ladies. How's it going?"

Maria started and twisted around, expecting to see one of the jackers behind her, but they remained crouched in the corridor. She heard a small chuckle. Two men stood quietly at the far end of the balcony in the dark. Maria hadn't even seen them when she had come out. They must have been standing there, watching them for some time.

"Hey guys, we're good. How are you?" Nina could be a terrible flirt at times.

"You're certainly looking very good." The man took a step into the light. He was tall with longish, blond hair and piercing, green eyes. He was strikingly handsome, but there was something about the slightly arrogant tilt of his head and the smile that Maria took an instant dislike to. His companion came forward into the light. He was shorter and stockier than the leader, with short hair, a two-day stubble and looked slightly shabby. He was smiling and looked friendlier than his companion. They weren't jackers or Augs at least, Maria thought.

Nina walked over to them. "We're just out getting a breath of fresh air. You interested in dancing?"

The shorter one said "Sure." He took Nina's arm and they turned to go back down the corridor. The blond one came over to Maria.

"How about you gorgeous? Like to dance?" Maria's instincts immediately told her to refuse and to get away from this man as soon as possible. Something about him just didn't seem quite right.

"Sure, she does." Nina came back to her and rolled her eyes, mouthing the word 'gorgeous' to Maria. Nina grabbed her arm and dragged her back inside with the other two following. One of the jackers was slumped on the floor of the corridor, overloaded. The blond one kicked him hard, causing him to curl up like a foetus. He gave a cruel laugh. "Damn jackers."

Maria turned on him. "What's wrong with you? They don't hurt anyone."

"They're all useless. He shouldn't be lying all over the floor."

As they came back into the dance floor, a tall, brown haired man pushed out of the crowd and came toward them. His long hair was a tied up in a short pony tail and his deep blue eyes stared at them as he approached. He was a wearing a loose, white shirt and jeans. Maria felt the two men they were with instantly tense as they came to a halt. The newcomer looked hard at the group as he stopped in front of them. There was a definite challenge in his demeanour. The blond leader stood his ground for a moment, and then stepped aside to let him pass. As he passed, the man looked carefully at Maria and then at the blond man next to her. There was clearly something between the two of them. Then he was gone, vanishing into the crowd.

The blond man muttered something she didn't catch over the music. He took her arm and they pushed back into the crowd on the dance floor. Maria forced herself to dance with the man for a few songs. He smiled and tried to be friendly, but something in his expression made her skin crawl. He seemed to be sizing her up, in almost a predatory way. After a while, she couldn't take it anymore. She reached out and grabbed Nina's arm. Nina was dancing very close to the shorter man, gazing into his eyes. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Nina, I'm out of here. You want to come too?" Maria yelled.

Nina gave her a smile and shook her head. "No. I'm good. Stay with me. This is fun!"

Maria shook her head and leaned in closer. "I don't want to. I don't feel comfortable. We should leave; something's not right."

Nina glanced at the blond man quickly. "Looks ok to me. If you want to go, that's fine. I'll be ok. I'll call you in the morning. Tell you everything." She gave her a wicked smile "See you later." She gave Maria a quick hug.

Maria felt uneasy leaving Nina with these two, but Nina could be stubborn when it came to men. She turned back to the blond man and yelled.

"Sorry. Not feeling good. Bit of a headache. I'm heading home. Thanks for the dance." She pushed away quickly, before he could ask for her number or offer to take her home, but she couldn't help but see a flicker of annoyance pass over his face. She quickly shoved her way to the exit.

There was a huge Aug bouncer standing at the top of the stairwell, his head encased in a black, alloy helmet, probably scanning for concealed weapons. He glanced at her, then stepped to one side to allow her to pass. She headed on down the stairwell. Glow-globes had been strung up along the ceiling to light the way, but the stairwell was still full of deep shadows. As she descended, she came face to face with the brown-haired stranger who had intimidated the two men. He smiled at her as she passed; a gentle smile, very unlike the blond's.

"Take care," his voice was deep and strong. Something about the way he said it made it seem like a warning, rather than a casual farewell, and put her instantly on edge. There was something going on here that she didn't quite understand and didn't really want to know about. She passed quickly down the stairs and out into the night.

She looked around; there were no tuk-tuks or rickshaws in sight. They wouldn't turn up until the end of the dance party to take the revellers home. She'd have to walk back to Victoria Square to pick one up. She glanced uncomfortably around the dark buildings. There were a few people around, mostly partygoers wending their way home or homeless people carrying their possessions and heading for one of the abandoned buildings for a place to sleep. It should be ok, she'd done this many times before with other people, but tonight she felt nervy and on edge. She began to walk. It was cool in the night air, and she could hear the lapping and gurgling of water. It was eerie out here all alone with the dark skeletons of the decaying buildings and the unfamiliar cries of the sea birds. She stuck to the route that was marked with luminescent paint and the occasional glow-globe: the dry path through the flooded neighbourhood. She turned and looked back at the building hosting the party. The lights formed a bright, horizontal line in the otherwise darkened silhouette, cutting the building in two, like a blade. You could hear the music clearly, even from here. She had another pang of guilt about leaving Nina. Still, it wasn't as if Nina hadn't ditched her at a party sometimes when she'd met some cute guy. She turned to continue, a dark, hooded figure loomed out of the gloom in front of her. She slowed, cautious, but it was just a jacker. She could barely see his face as he passed by; all she caught was the faint flickering of his contact lenses.

After about half a kilometre, she came to a small park. She quickened her pace. The park was little more than a soggy, grassed area with a few trees and shrubs and some decaying children's play equipment. The trees all looked sick or dying, probably from the salt water getting into their roots. She was almost past it when she heard the crunch of a boot on the gravel. She turned, hoping it was just another partygoer, but she had a horrible feeling it was going to be the two men from the party. They were no more than twenty metres from her, the blond one in the lead: a dreadful leer on his face. She turned and sprinted down the path, but they were on her shockingly fast. A part of her mind said no one could move that quickly, but then a powerful hand grabbed her arm, bringing her to a painful stop. She cried out, but the blond man quickly covered her mouth with his hand cutting off the sound. His face was right beside hers. She could feel his cheek on hers and smell his warm breath.

"Hello gorgeous. I wasn't ready for our night to end just yet." He pressed himself hard into her back. She struggled, but he was far too strong for her. She stamped down as hard as she could on the top of his foot and he let go in a howl of pain.

"Fuck you!" he shouted.

She turned and lashed out, trying to punch him in the throat, but he was too quick and just batted her hand away. The other one came walking slowly up, and stood behind her. She screamed as loud as she could, trying to draw some attention. The blond man backhanded her across the mouth. The blow was so hard it stunned her for a moment. She tasted blood in her mouth.

"You're going to pay for that, bitch." They grabbed her, and dragged her into the park behind the bushes and threw her onto the ground. She could feel the wet grass through her dress. She kicked out, connecting with the knee of the short, squat one. He went down in a howl of pain, and she tried desperately to scrabble away from them. The leader grabbed her by the leg and hit her hard in the side of the head. Pain exploded in her temple, and she blacked out momentarily.

"Wakey-wakey, bitch. We don't want you to miss anything." The blond one was kneeling over her, shaking her head.

Maybe it was the blow to the head or the adrenaline, but when she looked at him, he barely seemed human. An aura of red and black energy flared around his entire body. Two streams flowed out from his back like two blood-red wings. She desperately glanced at the other one, only to see the same strange energy flare, a dark red laced with black. Until then, she had been consumed by the thought of getting away, of fighting off her attackers, but now her fear flared into outright panic and she began to gasp for breath, struggling and writhing on the ground.

"What the hell are you, some kind of demons? Get away from me. Don't touch me!" she screamed.

The leader's voice changed. "What did she call us? Demons?"

"What are you? No one has an aura like that." Maria began to sob.

"She can see us," the short one said. "Kill her."

"I want some fun first." The blond one grabbed her and flipped her over onto her stomach, pressing her face down into the mud. She felt him fumble for a moment and then pull her dress up and grab her underwear. Then, she heard a crash. She lifted her head up and saw the leader crash into the ground in front of her. She felt the weight come off her and she struggled to turn over. The brown-haired man from the dance was fighting the other one. He moved in a blur of speed, kicking and punching. The shorter man was stunned by a forearm to the side of his head, and his legs buckled. The man grabbed him by the shirt, kicked his legs out from under him, lifted him up and then drove him down, slamming his head into the ground. The fight had lasted a matter of seconds. Now only the blond one was left. The brown-haired man straightened up and stared at him momentarily. For a second neither moved, then they threw themselves at each other in a flurry of blows. The brown-haired man was clearly stronger and faster, and the blond was forced back. A kick to the side of her attacker's knee followed by a punch to the jaw dropped him next to Maria in the mud.

She stared up at her saviour. He was a blaze of light. Not red but a pure, burning, white light, so brilliant it hurt her eyes. Huge flares of energy flowed from his back and shoulders. He looked down at her.

"We need to leave." He reached down to give her his hand, and pulled her effortlessly to her feet. She felt groggy and her head spun. A strong arm wrapped around her and pulled her away from her attackers and out of the park.

It seemed like hours before she heard the sound of people and the noise of cars and scooters. They came into the bustle and crowds of Victoria Square. He led her to a table in the terraces outside the bars that lined one side of the square.

"How do you feel?" The side of her face felt like it was swollen, and it hurt like hell. Her head still rang from the blow. She looked at him.

"My head hurts," she replied.

He took a close look at her. "I'm not surprised. You probably have a concussion; that was a pretty hard punch you took. I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."

"Thank you," was all she could think to say.

"Well you look terrible. We need to get you home and cleaned up. Where's home?"

She felt reluctant to tell him too much. "I'll be fine. I can catch a taxi from here."

A waiter came over to them. He took one look at Maria and his eyebrows came up. She must look a real mess. "Can I get you something?"

"Two whiskeys please," the man said.

She started to protest.

"No. It'll help you calm down. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, but I do need to ask you something."

She nodded. Even the slight movement made her head hurt.

"I heard you shouting about demons and auras back there. What did you see? What did you mean by that?"

"When I looked at them they were... they had a... like a, bright aura of red energy and wings. Sorry, I know that just sounds crazy. It must have been the punch in the head."

The man sat back in his chair and looked carefully at her. "Have you ever seen anything like that before?" She stared at him. He was still bathed in white light but the intensity had decreased. His blue eyes bored into her.

She nodded. "I see auras sometimes. It started when I was a kid. I see them quite a lot now, when I get stressed and tired. Never like that though. I've never seen anything like that. But it's nothing. It was the punch; my eyes weren't focussing."

His expression was sceptical. "They didn't seem to think that. What did you see when you looked at me?"

She looked away from him. "Nothing."

He clearly didn't believe that. "Really?"

"No," she confessed, "I see a bright, white light."

He looked at her for a moment, thinking. "That's what I thought. That's a problem."

"Why? They don't know me. I'll report it to the police. They'll be able to find those two."

"You can report it, but I doubt they will ever find them." He paused, "What about your friend?"

In the shock of the attack, she had forgotten about Nina. Was she ok? Where was she? They must have left the party almost immediately after she had.

"I need to check on Nina." She reached down to her belt and for the first time realised it wasn't there. "Oh shit. He must have taken off my belt. It had my ID card and money in it." She began to cry.

The waiter returned with two glasses of clear, brown whiskey. "Is everything ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. She had some trouble tonight with someone. It's fine." He paid the waiter and pushed a drink into her hands. She cradled it and took a sip of the fiery liquid.

"Can you help me get home please?" she asked, her voice weak.

"I don't think you should go home. If they have your ID, then they can get your address. You saw them. They won't let that go. Is there somewhere else you can go?"

She wasn't sure if he was talking about the red aura or being able to identify them. "Nina's, I guess."

He hesitated for a moment, as if thinking what to say. "Ok. We probably should check on her anyway."

She pulled out her phone. At least she hadn't lost that. She dialled Nina's number and let it ring. There was no answer. "What's the time?" she asked. He glanced at his watch, an old analogue timepiece.

"Nearly four."

"She should have been home by now."

He finished his drink with a quick swallow. "Where does she live?"

"Not far from here, in an apartment."

"Ok, finish your drink."

She sipped at the whiskey slowly while he went to find a tuk-tuk. Once he'd left, she sat watching the passing crowds. What she hadn't told him, was that the strange effect on her vision hadn't stopped. She could still see the usual faint, pale auras of each person as they went by, and when she looked at him she almost wanted to shade her eyes from the intensity of the light. Minutes later, a tuk-tuk swung out of the stream of cars, bikes and scooters circling the square. He was in the little rear seat. She clambered in beside him. The tuk-tuk was like a million others in every city of the world. A three-wheeled bike with a hard, rear seat, belching smoke from improperly refined biofuel and rattling as if it was about to die. The driver was a young, Latino man with a thin moustache and slicked back, black hair. Music played from a little radio secured to the windscreen. He threw the little vehicle back into the traffic with reckless abandon.

"Where you goin' folks?" He twisted around in his seat and raised an eyebrow at Maria's dishevelled state.

"Mason Street, 317."

"Vale." He whipped the vehicle off down a side street and headed north-west. He ducked and dived through the traffic, often cutting onto the wrong side of the road. Within a few minutes, he had pulled up outside a battered looking, four storey, concrete building. They got out and the man paid the driver.

A quick "Adios," came from the cab as he wheeled it around to search for his next fare.

They went to the door, which was a solid, steel plate with a regular door-handle. There was an intercom next to the door. Nina did not live in the best neighbourhood. He looked at her expectantly. Now that she was here, she realised that she knew nothing about him; not even his name.

"Look, thanks for your help, but I'll be ok now. I'll go upstairs, I'll be fine really. Nina's probably in bed."

He screwed up his face. "I don't think it's safe for you. They know who you are and they certainly know who Nina is. I should go up with you."

"Thanks, but I wouldn't be comfortable with that."

He nodded. "Ok, I understand. What say I wait across the road for a few seconds and you go up and, if everything looks ok, you give me a wave out the window so I know you're safe?"

She thought for a moment. "Ok. Thank you."

"I'm David by the way. David Forrest."

"Maria Warren."

"Nice to meet you Maria Warren." He gave her a smile, turned, and walked over the road to stand under a lamp post.

She pushed the button on the intercom for level three. No answer. She tried again. She waited a minute and then pushed the button for level two. After a few moments, a woman's sleepy voice answered. "Casi, it's Maria. Sorry, I know what time it is, but I'm worried about Nina. I left her at a dance and I want to make sure she's ok,"

"Hi sweetie. I didn't hear her come home, but I was asleep." The door buzzed and clicked open. "Go up and look. You've still got a key?"

"Yeah. Thanks. Sorry to wake you up." She pushed the door open and went up the steps to the third floor. When she got to the door she pushed it, but it was still locked. She reached up over the door and found Nina's spare key. She had often berated Nina for leaving it in such an obvious place, but now at least, she was happy she did. She unlocked the door and pushed it quietly open. The apartment was dark and silent. She reached around and flicked on the light. She stood there for a moment listening, the apartment was silent. She called out quietly, there was no response, so she took a deep breath and went inside. She went from room to room, but there was no sign of Nina. She walked over to the window and saw David looking up at her from the street. She waved down to him and he waved back and walked away into the gloom.

She wasn't sure if she had done the right thing there. He had saved her from being raped and had showed her nothing but kindness, but she was so unsettled by what she had seen; she didn't know who to trust or what to do. She went into the kitchen and started to make herself a cup of tea. It was just as she was putting a spoon of tea into the pot, with the kettle beginning to boil, that she thought she heard a noise from the living room. Her heart sank as she realised that she hadn't locked the door behind her. She couldn't believe she could be that stupid. She turned around and walked as quietly as she could to the lounge door. She recognised the blond hair instantly. He was looking into the little bedroom with his back to her. She glanced at the open door. There was no way she could get out without him seeing her. She slipped back into the kitchen and pulled a draw open, quietly taking out a large knife. Her heart was pounding like a freight train in her chest, and her hand was shaking as she withdrew the blade. She went back to the doorway and peeked around the frame. He was just standing in the middle of the room, waiting for her. She stepped out into the doorway brandishing the knife in front of her.

"Get out of here, or I'll use this." The anger was starting to swell up in her, replacing the fear. This man had hurt her. She had no doubt she'd use the knife if she had to.

He just stood there smiling at her then his gaze hardened. "Now, where were we gorgeous?"

"Back off," she raged at him, taking a step forward, but he didn't even blink.

"I like it when they fight. Nina fought." He smirked at her.

"What the hell have you done to Nina?"

He just smiled at her. She went for him with the knife slashing wildly. He dodged back, uncertain for a moment. She stabbed the knife at him, but he just parried the blow with his arm and stepped inside her thrust. He grabbed her throat with his left hand, then shoved her backwards and she fell to the floor. He was far too strong for her: abnormally strong. She scrabbled backwards to keep her distance. He glanced down at his arm. The knife had caught him, cutting his arm, and a thin trickle of blood dripped down onto the floor. Again, he smiled. His aura was flaring bright red and pulsing black. She sensed real anger in him now.

"Enough. I think I'll just kill you now."

"I don't think so."

David stood in the doorway. He moved like a blur of white light, smashing into her attacker. The fight was quick and brutal. Her assailant barely landed a blow before he was knocked to the floor, blood pouring from his mouth.

"You know what she is," he spat. "She has to die."

"Come near her again and I'll rip your head off."

They heard a car door slam in the street below, and then the sound of running feet up the stairs. David grabbed Maria by the hand and dragged her out the door, running for the roof.

"We'll be trapped," Maria gasped. "There's no way off the roof." David didn't answer. He pushed open the door at the top of the stairs, and they went out onto the butanol covered roof area. He quickly looked around for something to wedge the door, but there was nothing up there. He dragged her across the rooftop and they made the short running jump to the next building. Behind them, the rooftop door slammed open. There were four of them, the two from the dance party, and two other men, all hot on their heels. The next building was a slightly larger jump, and it brought them to end of the block. There was nowhere else to go.

"Shit." Maria muttered. Her fear started to rise again. They were trapped. David quickly looked down each side of the building, searching for a way down but finding nothing.

He pulled an object from one of his sleeves. A small tube with a handle and a stiff, pad-like object protruding from the top. The tube seemed to be attached to his arm with webbing. He pulled out the pad, which was connected by a thin line to the tube, and draped it over a large, smooth steel pipe that ran around the top of the building. Their pursuers were on the next building, only seconds away. He grabbed Maria around the waist. His grip was like iron. "Hold around my neck ̶ really tightly!"

"No. No!" He wrapped his arms around her and dropped off the side of the building, the handle of the object clutched in his hands behind her back. They flew down the side of the building, Maria screaming all the way. Then, just a couple of metres before they crashed into the concrete below, the tube screamed in protest as David applied some sort of brake. They decelerated quickly, but the momentum was too great and their feet slammed heavily into the footpath. He grunted under the force of the impact. She would have lost her hold on him except for his arms around her. They stood there for a moment, stunned. Then David pushed a stud on the tube. The line fell down behind them and was automatically retracted back into the little tube. David surged to his feet, holding his shoulder and grimacing in pain. He was obviously hurt.

"Quick." They ran down the street and into the gloom. Maria risked another glance back. The four men were standing on top of the building looking down at them.
2: Home

They ran hard through the streets back toward Victoria Square. They had gone a few hundred metres when they came upon a small group of tuk-tuks parked on the side of the road. Some of the drivers were asleep in their cabs, but a couple were still awake, standing around and chatting. The sky had started to brighten as dawn approached. One turned to look their way as they ran up.

"How much to Victoria Square?" David asked him.

"Twenty."

That was a bit high, but they were in no position to haggle.

"Ok." They piled in and raced off down the street. The driver was probably pleased to get a fare at this hour. The day driver would be taking over soon ̶ the tuk-tuks were a twenty-four-hour operation. As they came down the street, they could hear the sound of sirens, and then a series of shots rang out. They could see a column of smoke rising above the buildings. The street was blocked ahead with armed riot police. The driver flew down a side street, away from the commotion.

The driver turned around to them, disconcertingly taking his eyes of the road. "Another riot. Bloody pigs." He spat out of the cab.

David turned to her. "Turn off your phone."

"Why?"

"They can track it if you use it."

"How can they track my phone? They don't know my number."

"Nina does. She'd have it on her phone."

He leaned forward to the driver. "I've changed my mind. Take us to the Flooded Quarter." The driver turned around in his seat.

"That'll be forty."

"Fine." The driver flew through the square and back down the road that led to the party building.

"Why are we going back there?" Maria asked.

David was rubbing his shoulder. He just shook his head. He didn't want to discuss it now. The driver took them past the party building and deeper into the deserted suburb. As he drove, the road got worse and he was forced to slow down to weave around the water filed pot holes in the road.

"You wanna go to the wall?"

"Sure, that'll be good." They passed increasingly derelict buildings. Most were dark, but here and there a flicker of light would shine out of a window from a burning fire. A few people still lived here amongst the drowned buildings. Dawn had now arrived, and shafts of sunlight pierced the gloom, illuminating the ground like spotlights. The sky was filling with iron-grey clouds. It would rain later. It did most days now.

Going to the wall was a bit of a misnomer. The old sea wall had been built to hold back the rising waters, but it had failed a long time ago. Now, it was nearly a hundred metres out from the shore, and all but completely submerged. Only the westernmost section, close to the slums, was still above the waterline. The combination of sinking ground levels ̶ caused by pumping up fresh ground water ̶ and the rising sea level, had doomed this part of the city, as it had many of the other great cities of the world. In warmer weather, the local children would swim out to the wall as a dare. The driver dropped them at an open area on the foreshore. David gave the driver the forty and an extra ten, with the instruction that if anyone asked, they had got out in the Square. They watched as the little cab rattled away, dodging the worst of the puddles in its path.

David came and stood next to Maria and they stared out into the bay in silence, listening to the sound of the waves and the crying gulls. Memories of earlier times, better times, flitted through his mind. They always did whenever he stood watching the sea. Far out on the horizon, he could just make out the huge wind generators turning lazily in the ocean winds.

Maria looked left and right along the waterfront. The water was slowly undermining the foundations of the buildings and some had cracked and slumped into the water. One was leaning at a precarious angle and, before long, would topple and be claimed by the sea.

She wrapped her arms around herself as some protection from the slight breeze. "Do you think Nina is alright?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, but something in his voice told her that he thought it was unlikely.

"Thank you for coming back to help me."

"I thought they might be watching the apartment. I just went around the block and waited. Sven must have waited for me to leave and then called the others. Obviously, he couldn't wait for them to arrive."

"Sven?"

"The blond one is Sven."

"If you know who he is, we can just go to the police."

"No."

She looked at him sharply. "Why not?"

"It's complicated, and it would probably make things worse." That was all he was apparently prepared to say on the matter, as he turned away and said, "Come on."

He led her through the buildings, heading east. In places, they needed to wade through knee high water to continue. She could see schools of small fish darting around in the shallows.

"This used to be a very wealthy neighbourhood," he said. "All the rich and famous used to live here. Now look at it, just the rotting carcasses of buildings." He picked a piece of decaying wooden moulding from the water and, after glancing at it briefly, tossed it away.

"Why would they have wanted to live by the sea? It's better up in the hills." She glanced up towards the hills that surrounded the city to the north.

"They didn't think like that. Living by the sea was good: fresh air, views of the water." He turned back toward the sea and led her towards a large building that dwarfed those around it. "That's the old Grand Hotel, and it was truly grand in its day."

"Why are we going there?" she asked.

"That's where I live, on and off." He pushed on through the water and led her around to the front entrance. A set of large marble steps led up to the doors, which at one time must have had glass in them, but now were open to the elements. They went into the lobby. The place stank of damp and decay, and the walls were covered in green mould. The reception desk was still there, but the rest of the room was bare. David walked past the desk, up the grand staircase and continued to the end of the corridor. He pulled out a small light and then headed up the stairs, going higher and higher until they reached the top floor and the penthouse suite. The original wooden door had been replaced with a steel one and a large lock hung from it. David pulled out a key and unlocked it, swinging the door wide.

"Just wait a moment." He disappeared into the apartment and she heard the sound of doors shutting. He came back out, flicked the lights on and motioned for her to go in.

She walked into a large, well-furnished room. "You have power out here?"

"I have solar panels on the roof, and wind generators in a couple of the rooms that are open to the prevailing winds. It gives me enough power to run the lights, water heating, and a few appliances if I'm careful."

"Wouldn't the lights stand out like a beacon at night?"

"The hotel is shaped in a curve, facing out to sea. As you saw when we came in, the front of the hotel is basically on the water's edge. I've put walls up at each side of the apartment so that the only way you'd see the lights is if you are out in the harbour. At night, I keep the shutters drawn most of the time." He went over to a computer screen and turned it on. His fingers flew over the screen and then he came back over to her. "I've just turned the security system on. We'll know if anyone approaches the building." He looked her up and down. "Do you want to have a hot shower while I make us some food, and I'll see if I can find you something to wear?" Maria looked down at her dress; it was ripped and covered with mud. She nodded. He pointed to a room on the left. "The bathroom's through there. Towels are on the shelf."

"Thank you." She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. There was a lock on the door and she slid that into place. The bathroom was beautiful: all marble, with a huge bath and a double shower. He certainly lived in luxury, it was three times the size of her little bathroom at home. She walked over to the basin and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was filthy, her right cheek was swollen, and her eye was bloodshot and going black. She just stood there staring at the stranger in the mirror. Her mind flashed back to the park and the damp, wet ground on her face, the rough hands on her body. She quickly turned away and tried to calm herself. She turned the shower on full and hot, and stripped away her filthy clothes and underwear. The hot water felt lovely on her skin and she stood there under the stream, letting it run over her head and down her back. The grief and shame started to overwhelm her and she started to cry: deep heavy sobs that wracked her whole body. Then she began to scrub her body with a flannel and soap, tried to scrub the memories away.

When she was done, she found a soft towel and dried herself. She looked at herself in the mirror again. A good part of her face was now hideously swollen and discoloured. I don't know about gorgeous, she thought. She was a little taller than average, with a slender body. She had long, thick, dark hair and hazel eyes, although right now the right one was bloodshot and nearly closed up. Part Latino on her mother's side and English on her fathers. People always said she looked like her mother, who was a true beauty. She wrapped a towel around herself and went out of the bathroom.

The smell of cooking made her realise how hungry she was. David looked up from the stove.

"I dug out some clothes for you, but they're going to be a bit big. They were an old girlfriend's. They're on the bed in the spare room. He pointed to another door.

"Thanks."

The room was small, but had a queen-sized bed in it and a view out over the harbour. The sun was pouring golden light into the room making everything glow. She looked out at the view. The hotel was high enough that it overlooked the half-submerged buildings in front of it and straight out to sea. The whole sweep of the harbour lay before her. Small boats bobbed around on a sea shining like gold. Maybe there was something about living by the sea after all. She turned back to the bed to see a pair of jeans, black singlet, T-shirt and tan jacket that David had pulled out for her. Not really her style, but better than nothing. She put them on and went back out to the living room.

David had made her eggs and mushrooms on toast and hot tea. It smelled divine. He was sitting at the table drinking his tea, his breakfast half eaten in front of him. "I don't know what you like. I don't eat meat. I hope it's ok?"

"It looks great. Thank you." She wolfed the food down.

He got up and went to the cupboard and came back with a packet of pain-killers.

"You look like you might need these."

Her face was hurting a lot, so she downed a couple with a swig of hot tea.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Awful. I've been beaten up, chased over roof tops and dropped off buildings."

He smiled. "Sorry about that. I'll try not to drop you off any more buildings."

"No. Don't apologise, you saved me! I don't even want to think about what would have happened had you not come along last night."

"You're welcome." He pointed back to the room. "You haven't slept. Once you've finished, I think you should try and get some sleep."

She nodded. "This is beautiful," she waved her hand around, happy about the change in subject too.

"Yeah. The presidential suite. Top of the range. No one else was using it, and the only downsides are that you have to live in the middle of the water, and you don't get a lot of visitors, but it suits me well. Nice and private. I know people don't like the sea views anymore, but I do. I love looking out over the water. You just have to ignore all the old buildings." He smiled. She thought he had a nice smile. "I have a couple of things I need to do, but I'll be back in about fifteen minutes. You'll be fine here. Ok?"

She nodded.

He picked up his plate, put it in the sink, and disappeared out the door. She finished her breakfast in silence. Her eyes were feeling heavy and her head still hurt. She went over to the couch and stretched out on it. She wanted to ask David some questions about the men who had attacked her. He obviously knew who they were, but her exhaustion overwhelmed her and within minutes, her eyes were closed.

David came back a few minutes later and saw her asleep on the couch. He picked her up gently and lay her down on the bed in the spare room. She barely stirred as he covered her up and closed the door.

3: Species

When she awoke many hours later, the sun had moved higher in the sky and the light was no longer streaming into the windows. It must have been after noon. The rain clouds seemed to have moved away for the time being. She could hear music playing softly in the other room, a gentle acoustic guitar. After a moment of confusion, she realised that she must have fallen asleep and he had carried her into bed, but that didn't seem so important, and she snuggled down into the warm, clean sheets for a while longer. It was nice to relax, but after a while, the memories of the previous night started to intrude into her mind forcing her out of bed. She walked over to the door and peered out into the lounge. David was sitting on the couch playing an old, battered guitar. She didn't recognise the music he was playing. It was slow and beautiful. Even now, in the bright light of day, she could see the white aura of energy surrounding him. She opened up the door properly and walked in.

"Nice."

He stopped playing and laid the guitar aside on the couch. "Just an old thing. How do you feel?"

"Better."

He nodded. "Your face is an interesting colour."

"What!" She went back to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was livid and bruised. A peculiar purplish-yellow colour. She prodded it to see if anything was broken, but she didn't think so. She ran some cold water on a wet flannel that was hanging on a rail, holding it to her face like a compress. Her face looked terrible, but it could easily have been much worse. She went back to the lounge and sat in a chair, curling her feet under herself and looking at him.

"I look awful."

"Yes, you do. I'll get you a cold pack for the flannel." He went to the fridge, pulled out a blue cold pack and tossed it to her.

"How's your shoulder?" she asked.

"It's fine. I heal quickly."

"I would have thought that fall would dislocate your shoulders."

He just shrugged. "I'm fine."

"What was that pad thing?"

"It's a biomimetic product based on a gecko's feet. It has a soft pad with really fine hairs, backed with a Kevlar skin. The line is attached to a kind of synthetic tendon in the skin. If you drape it over something and pull, it can hold an incredible weight, but you can just peel it off. When I push the stud, the tendon releases it." He smiled. "Very cool, huh." He flashed her a smile.

"I need to know," a more pressing question was on her mind.

"What?" though his expression showed, he knew full well what she was asking.

"What happened last night? Who were those guys? Why are they chasing me? What difference does it make that they have an aura like that?" She could feel the tears welling up inside her.

He looked at her for a moment as if deciding what to say. "Can I ask you something first?" She nodded. "Can you still see the white light?"

"Yes."

"I need to tell you the truth. It's not going to make you feel any better, but you need to know, it's only fair. When they first came after you, the intent was probably rape." He paused there for a moment. "But when you started screaming about demons and wings, things changed for the worse."

"Worse than being gang raped by a pair of thugs?" she retorted.

He looked a little lost. "I don't really know how to say this to you in a way that isn't going to upset you. They were going to rape you; now they're out to kill you, and they probably won't stop until you're dead. You saw them for what they are. You can still see them as what they are. You're too dangerous to them to be allowed to live. I'm sorry."

She began to cry. He came over, sat next to her, and tentatively put his arm around her until her sobs diminished.

"Why?" she asked

"Why do they want to kill you, you mean?" She nodded.

"When you look at most people, what do you see? Do they have an aura?"

She was reluctant to answer that question.

"They do, don't they."

She nodded. "A faint, pale aura. I see it sometimes when the light isn't too strong."

"You told me before, that when you looked at those two, you saw a strong, red aura and flares of energy, like wings."

Again, she nodded. "And with me it was a white aura. Does that tell you anything?

"Like what?"

"That there is a difference between them and ordinary people."

"Yeah, they're fucking bastards."

"True," he smiled. "But beside that." She didn't answer him. "The reason they look different is that they are different. Those two men aren't entirely human. Not in the same way you are anyway. You may find this a little hard to believe but there are two species of human on this planet. There has been for thousands of years. They are different, but it's a subtle difference that is easy to miss if you just look at bones. The vast majority of people on this planet are normal Homo sapiens: about twenty billion of those I think, at the last count. There are also, hidden away within them, a few million others. They don't have a scientific name because no one knows they are even there. And that's the way they intend it to stay."

She looked very sceptically at him. "Are you serious?"

"Don't you believe the evidence of your own eyes? You can see them. If you can see them, you can expose them."

"If that were true, and I don't for a moment believe it is, that would be one of the biggest scientific discoveries ever. There is only one sort of human."

"It's not really that hard to believe, is it? I don't know if you know anything about evolution, but there have been many different species of humans in prehistory and often they co-existed: Modern humans and Neanderthals for example, there's a little bit of Neanderthal DNA in all of us from the interbreeding; Flores Man lived in Indonesia as recently as 12,000 years ago; the Denisovians maybe 11,000 years ago. All of them were living together on Earth for thousands of years."

"And none of them are still around," she pointed out.

"And there's the problem. Humans don't like competition. Other species seem to die out or be bred out of existence. But the real problem for us," ̶ She immediately noted the slip. He had used the word 'us' ̶ "Is that amongst other things they are stronger, faster, live longer and are in many ways physically superior to humans."

"So why are there twenty billion of us and a few million of them? Survival of the fittest."

"Because they live longer. When you have a longer life span, there isn't the need to have children quickly and if they did, then the world would rapidly fill to capacity. The last thing this planet needs is more humans on it, regardless of the species."

"So those two were from this other species. They don't seem very superior to me."

"Physically superior in some ways, not morally or intellectually superior, and no they aren't."

"Hang on, now I 'm confused. They aren't from this other race?"

"Species, not race. Race is different again. No, they aren't. They're hybrids. The offspring of a union between the two species. They are half-human. White is a pure bred. Red is a hybrid." She digested that information.

"Do you want a coffee?" he asked.

"Sure." He got up and put a small percolator on to heat. Soon the smell of freshly brewed coffee began to fill the room.

"I like the smell of brewing coffee," she said.

"This is nothing like the coffee of old. Climate change has ruined coffee. This GM stuff is ok but not a patch on what it used to be like." He looked wistful for a moment. "Anyway, sorry, got diverted there for a moment."

"So those guys were hybrids?" she asked.

He nodded. "There is something about the mix of genes between the two. Sometimes it works. Most of the time, it doesn't. The hybrids generally tend to have something wrong with them. Not physical defects, at least not always, but a lot of them are just twisted: not right in the head. Like those two. Sven is a pure psychopath. Marco the shorter one is not too bright but with a nasty streak." He came back over carrying two small cups of very strong, black coffee and handed one to her.

"So, the hybrids are all red and sick in the head. Great. At least I can avoid them."

He nodded. "I don't think avoiding them is going to be possible, long term. They will find you eventually. You should leave the city."

"No. I'm not leaving." Her reaction was instant and final. She couldn't conceive of leaving the city. It was all she had ever known. Her friends and her job were here. This was where her family came from. She had some distant relations down south, but she'd never met them. Her mother had just spoken about them once or twice.

"Why do they want to kill me anyway just because I can see them? I'm no threat to them."

"Not on your own. But, if you were to convince others that what you can see is real, and that by using you, those people can find a way to see them, then they are exposed. We have survived this long by staying hidden." Again, the slip.

"No one's going to believe me. Do you realise how crazy this all sounds. If I hadn't seen them, I'd think you were the crazy one. That doesn't seem like a good reason to kill me."

"It's not the only reason. Some variation in your genes means you can see them. If you have children, and they inherit your genes, and slowly over the generations those genes spread to the general population, then eventually people will start to believe. Then they really are exposed."

"I can't be the only person who's ever been able to see them. I can't be the only person with this genetic defect."

"You aren't. Others have had the ability, and whenever they've been discovered, that person has been killed. There are probably hundreds, maybe thousands with your ability at the moment. Most don't know what they are seeing and don't admit it because people will think they're crazy. Some will be being treated for mental illness. Telling people you can see things that other people can't, is a good way to get yourself committed. They tend to watch the mental health system for just that reason. But enough people have seen them for the idea to have percolated into the general consciousness."

"What do you mean? No one thinks there's another species of human walking around."

"True, but if you think about it, there have been stories around of beings of light with wings for a very long time."

"You have got to be kidding me. You think you're an angel?" She didn't mean to say it like that, but it just slipped out. She laughed disbelievingly.

He looked at her for a moment. "No, I don't think I'm an angel, far from it. I'm just a man, and not even a very good one, but I believe that was the genesis of the idea of angels and demons."

"White angels and red demons. Kind of fits I guess, but angels are the opposite of demons. These hybrids are created by you."

"Not me!" There was an anger there that made her recoil. The white light blazed even brighter, filling the room and then subsided. "Not me." He studied his coffee cup for a while. She picked up hers and took a sip of the thick, black liquid. It was good coffee, very strong. Almost immediately she could feel the buzz.

After a while, he spoke again. "Angels aren't the opposite of demons. They're the same thing. Have you ever read the bible?"

"No."

"In the Book of Revelations, there are these words:

'And there was war in heaven. Michael and his angels fought against the dragon, and the dragon and his angels fought back. But he was not strong enough, and they lost their place in heaven. The great dragon was hurled down, - that ancient serpent called the devil or Satan, who leads the whole world astray. He was hurled to the earth, and his angels with him.'

The angels that were hurled down with Satan are the demons. They are still angels just like the other ones."

"So, some of the angels are bad too, not just the hybrids?"

He nodded. "I'm afraid so. Just like humans, good and bad."

She sat there and played with her cup for a while. "I'm finding all this very hard to believe." She shook her head as if to clear the confusion "What am I going to do?"

"You need to leave the city; go underground. They know who you are, so they'll track you if you stay on the grid."

"So, I have to give up everything; my life, my friends, everything."

"If you want to live, yeah. But for the time being, you can stay here. We'll figure something out."

4: An Offer

David got up, cleaned the coffee cups away and then went to sit at the computer. "I have some work to do that'll take me about an hour. Make yourself at home. Best you don't leave the building."

"Does anyone else live here?"

"Not at the moment, but there are often homeless people around. Sometimes they come inside."

"You don't mind?"

"Not my building. Who am I to say they can't stay." He turned to the screen and started typing on a holographic keyboard. She wanted to ask more questions, but didn't want to disturb him. She looked out of the window for a while and then looked at the books on his bookshelf. She had seen books before, but no one she knew owned more than a couple. He had shelves of them. Some looked almost new, but printed books had become a thing of the past years before she was born. She pulled out one at random, a book about the Himalayas. There were glossy photographs of mountain ranges and men in brightly coloured climbing gear loaded down with equipment. There were shots of Nepal and the smiling brown-faced children. She had never even left the city. Few people did now; travelling was for the rich. She put the book down and went to find a comb for her hair. She sat looking out the window, combing out the knots. It was a soothing thing to occupy her time. Soon afterwards, she heard him get up and start talking to people on the phone. She tried not to listen, but it was impossible. He seemed to be discussing a sale of some sort. They were talking about prices and delivery. He made a few more calls and then came to sit next to her.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Ok I suppose. What do you do?" she asked.

"I deal in art, antiquities and old books." He picked up the book she had been reading and thumbed through it.

"Do people buy them?"

"Books. Sure they do. Most of these are old. Not many get made anymore, but people still like to have something to hold, to turn the pages and to look at an actual photograph. The smell of a new paper book, that's something all of its own. People with the money like to buy them anyway."

"No one I know has books like that."

"No? Shame about that."

She turned toward him. "Why do you live here? You obviously have money." It was something that she had been wondering about all morning.

"I only live here sometimes: when I don't want to be found, or when I want to get away. I brought you here because they know where I live, and watching me would lead them to you."

"Where do you live normally then?"

"In the Core, in a converted warehouse. It doubles as a storage unit and gallery and is very secure. We'll have to leave sometime. It'll be easier from here." He looked at her. "What about you? What do you do?

"I'm a waitress at a little restaurant at night. Nina's dad owns the restaurant. That's how we met." The mention of Nina brought her back to mind, and Maria wondered where she was, and if she was all right.

"Listen, I have to go out to do some business, and I want to talk to a friend about some new ID for you. Will that be ok?" he asked.

"I'm not leaving the city," she said adamantly.

"I think that's a mistake. However, even if you stay, you can't go back to your old life. You need to disappear. The city's huge. You can hide, but you can't go back, ever." He paused. "You should be safe as long as you stay here. I'll show you the security system. If it goes off, then you can check the cameras. If you need to, then call me and I'll be back as soon as I can, but only if you really have to." He gave her a quick lesson on the cameras, gave her a key to the door, added his cell number to her phone and then left, making sure he locked the door behind him. She couldn't believe he was so trusting. Maybe he thought she had nowhere else to go.

She wandered around the apartment looking at things and generally tried to keep herself busy. Then she hunted around in the kitchen and made herself some lunch. She was bored and frustrated. She didn't know if David was blowing the matter out of proportion. She looked at the door, went over to it, and opened it slightly. There was no sound other than water dripping somewhere. She slipped out and, locking the door behind her, walked down the corridor until she came to a closed door. She pushed the bar and it opened with a creak. She wedged it open with a piece of broken masonry and went out into the sunshine. The roof was a huge expanse of concrete. The front edge was close, so she walked up to it and peered over the edge. A thin ledge ran around the outside of the building, and below she could see the water lapping at its foundations. Sea birds flew in between the buildings, their screeching calls echoing off the concrete walls. In the distance, she could see the smoke from a fire. The warm breeze ruffled her hair. Last night's events were starting to take on a sense of unreality. She pulled out her phone and contemplated calling the police. They could sort it out for her, arrest those two and her life could go back to normal. She hesitated, then slipped the phone back into her pocket. Maybe David was right? She didn't know what to do.

She went back inside and went down a floor, staring into the vacant rooms. Most of them were bigger than her apartment, but the carpet was rotten, and the walls covered in mould and grime. In one, she found the remnants of a fire, and discarded empty cans of food. Some homeless person's old camp. There was a big hole in the wall where it looked like someone had tried to dismantle the wall to get at the wood for their fire. She went back to the apartment. The door to his room was slightly ajar. She knew nothing about her rescuer. She felt uncomfortable about it, but curiosity overwhelmed her feelings and she walked over to the room and opened the door. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it was just an ordinary room. She went inside. On one of the dressers was a thick, ornate staff made of some dark, hard wood. It was carved with symbols she'd never seen before. Probably one of his antiques. She turned to the bed and saw a leather holster hanging off the bed head in easy reach; in it was a large gun. She looked at it for a long moment. Maybe David wasn't the nice person he appeared to be; perhaps she had better call the police. She walked back into the lounge and pulled out her phone. She turned it on and called the police. She gave them a short report over the phone, but the officer she spoke to wanted her to come in to give a full statement and look at some pictures. She gave him her number and promised to come in the following day. Once she had made the call, she suddenly felt better. The authorities were on her side. Things would work out. She made herself a coffee and then sat down to leaf through some of the old books. She would tell David when he arrived and then go back to her apartment.

After a while, she flicked on the TV in the lounge. Most of the channels were just showing the usual afternoon rubbish of game shows and soaps, so she switched to the news channel and sat down in a chair to watch.

The world was not a happy place; maybe it never had been. The monsoon rains had flooded what was left of Bangladesh yet again, leaving hundreds dead and thousands homeless; storms destroyed towns and crops in one area and droughts destroyed them in others. Pictures of grieving people seemed to fill every piece. Crying, distraught people seemed to be the staple of journalists' articles these days. Disasters were so common now, that they barely made the news unless the death toll was high.

The rise of the nationalists in Russia headed by Viktor Yanaev was causing serious concern, with parallels being drawn with Hitler and the Nazis. His statements and demands had become increasingly aggressive and he was moving his forces towards the borders with Europe.

Border disputes, riots and wars raged around the world, caused by food shortages brought on by climate change, new plant blights, and arguments over lack of fresh water.

They had a piece on the overnight riot they had witnessed. The security forces had killed three protesters, with shops burned and looted. That sort of thing was becoming all too common in the poorer areas of the city. The people were becoming desperate.

The leader of the local opposition party Susan Wright came on:

'The Police tactics against unarmed protesters in last night's riot was completely over the top. The use of tear gas, rubber bullets and now the immobilising nets has become the first response rather than a last resort. The disturbing thing is that I have received leaked information suggesting that the government is developing an electrified version of the nets. Can you imagine being trapped in one of these nets and being electrocuted? That's cruel and inhuman. It's torture and illegal. We cannot let the Government get away with this behaviour against our own people.'

Watching the news always made her depressed at the way people behaved. One day perhaps they would work together, but it didn't look likely any time soon. At least she got a smile out of one piece; a hacktivist group had claimed responsibility for breaking into the Government computers and placing a screen saver on every Government employee's screen with cartoons of the Prime Minister in retaliation for his attempts to censor the net.

The only other thing that captured her interest was the mysterious disappearance of a Nobel Prize winning virologist. One day he had been working in his lab, had walked out, and had not been seen since. Weeks had passed and there was still no sign of him. Maybe he'd watched the news and got so depressed he decided to end it all, she thought. She flicked through the channels and started watching some mindless game show.

**

David got out of the taxi just outside his gallery. He turned to look at the city around him. Unlike the dilapidated and flooded section of the city he had just come from, this part - the central city - the locals called it the Core, was ultra-modern. Skyscrapers of steel and glass soared gracefully up in to the sky. Well-dressed pedestrians strolled by or dined in open-air cafes: wealthy, content and safe. Walking behind them or standing close by surveying the surrounding street, stood discreet bodyguards, often Augs.

At night, the Core was a marvellous sight, ablaze with light and colour. A bustling, modern metropolis, powered by energy from the new fusion plant in the hills above the city. Here the wealthy and the powerful had everything. Down below, closer to the sea, the poor, both in energy and in wealth, struggled to survive. David turned back to the gallery. The shop front was a huge sheet of armoured glass. Inside, white, marble floors and grey walls displayed art works, books and antiques. Behind the shop was his storeroom and apartment, accessed only by a steel door. He placed his palm on the glass near the door and a circle appeared around it. A pale blue light circled it as it read his palm print. Then he stood close to the glass, and a light shone out; facial recognition software verified his identity. He thought back to his apartment with a physical lock. This level of security was standard in the Core. The wealthy were not interested in sharing. The door slid open and the shop computer greeted him, cool and efficient. David told it the gallery was open and to allow customer access. He glanced at the display wall and noted that Eric had hung the Charles Russell painting. He walked over to it. It was a beautiful piece, a stagecoach drawn by four horses careering along a path. Then, he walked to the storeroom door and repeated the identification process. The heavy bolts unlocked and the door swung open.

"Eric."

A voice answered him from the rear of the shop and a hulking man strode out. David could hear the mechanical whine from his augmentation as he walked. "I put the Russell out on the wall for the client. He's due in 10 minutes."

David glanced at his watch. "Thanks. I wanted to let you know that I had a bit of a run in with Ballock's thugs last night. We might have a bit of trouble with them. I also have someone staying, so I may be in and out a lot over the next few days."

The big man nodded. "We had an enquiry over the Dickens collection. I sent them details and they'll come back to us." He paused "And Father Ramos also phoned from the home. He was wondering if we could buy some musical instruments for the children. I assumed you'd want to do that and sent him the money."

"Course. I must go visit them at some stage."

The gallery computer system advised them that the client had just pulled up outside.

"Right."

"Go get 'em boss."

David put on a jacket and strode out into the galley.

David had just concluded the sale when a short, powerful looking man strode in, flanked by Sven and Marco. They both looked a little worse for wear, and David smiled slightly. Simon Ballock looked in his mid-thirties, but his hair was streaked with grey. Maybe he dyed it, David thought, to give him the appearance of age. He had brown eyes and thin lips but a strong jaw line.

"David."

"Simon," David responded coolly.

"I hear we had a bit of a misunderstanding last night."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard of attempted rape described as a misunderstanding before. Where's the other girl?" He heard the door to the storeroom open and felt the presence of Eric behind him, silent back up.

Ballock smiled: an unpleasant, predatory smile. "The girl needs to be dealt with. You know that as well as I do. I know she looks like Aurelia, but you have to put that aside. Kill her. If you can't, let us do it. I won't let us be exposed. You know there was a time you would have said the same thing." A hard edge had crept into his voice.

"I'm not sure that I do know that. Why are you here? Not to exchange pleasantries I'm sure."

"I thought we needed to talk. You are an important person. Lots of people respect you. They heed what you say. Things are changing. I'm sure you know that. Look at the mess these humans have created. They need to be led. They need to be shown the way. We've been fighting among ourselves for far too long. We need to join forces for the good of everyone. I want to offer you the chance to join us. To be part of the movement. We want you to be with us, not against us."

David simply stared at him.

"Still the man of few words. David, you and your friends have a choice. Join us willingly, or things will not be quite so pleasant. This is your last opportunity."

"Get out of my gallery." David said flatly.

"So be it." Ballock turned and walked out.

5: Escape

It was starting to go dark outside when the computer alert went off: a quiet but insistent beeping. Maria went to the screen and switched between each of the cameras. She hoped it was just a stray dog or a homeless person walking past. The cameras showed nothing at first, but then, just as she was about to dismiss it as a false alarm, she saw a man slip around a corner heading for the main entrance. A solid man with close cropped hair. In his right hand, he held a pistol.

"Oh shit." She wondered what she should do. She looked around quickly for a place to hide but then realised that the apartment was the first place they'd look. She turned everything off and slipped quietly out the door locking it behind her. She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to try to hide in one of the many empty rooms, but a noise from the stairwell forced her to make a decision. She hurried to the outside door and went out onto the roof. She ran as quickly as she could to the edge and clambered over onto the narrow ledge around the outside. On the ledge, she could be seen by someone on the ground, but not from the roof. She closed her eyes to the drop and tried to stay calm. Nothing happened for minutes. The only sounds were the whistling of the wind and the cries of gulls. Then she heard and felt a solid thump, like someone hit the building hard; they had blown the door. She tried to calm her thumping heart and breathe quietly. Minutes dragged by, and then the door to the roof was thrown open and heavy footsteps headed in her direction. She tried to hold her breath. A rough hand grabbed her hair and pulled her up. She stared into the hard eyes of the man she had seen coming into the building.

"Got her," he called out. He hauled her round, and she saw ̶ to her dismay ̶ her dusty footprints heading across the roof. They had led them right to her. She tried to kick and fight, but he just slapped her hard and grabbed her by the throat forcing her to stare straight at him.

"Where's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend, and I don't know." Another man came out on the roof and strolled over to them. It was the short one David had called Marco.

"I don't believe you," the first man said. He dragged her back to the edge of the roof. "Maybe you'd like to have a little fly." He forced her to look down at the dark water far below her. "Where is he?" he shouted. There was real anger in his voice.

"I don't know!" she screamed back.

"You'd better not kill her." Marco spoke from behind her. "Sven has something special in mind for this little bitch."

"He has to be around here somewhere. I don't like it."

"Don't worry," Marco replied.

"Don't worry! Are you kidding? You know what he can do."

"He's not here. Bring the girl. Let's get the others and get out of here."

They turned and headed back to the door, dragging Maria with them. They had taken no more than a few steps when they heard a solid "thunk" from the doorway and the man dragging her staggered back and collapsed, curling up into a ball. He spasmed and moaned on the ground as the electricity, from the twin wires protruding from his chest, flowed through him. Maria scrabbled away from him across the roof, horrified. Marco stared at him for a fraction of a second, the shock registering on his face, and then he turned around, pulling out his gun and extending his arm, but he was too slow. David covered the distance from the darkened doorway in a split second: a white blur of light. Maria had seen the flare when he had a moment of anger in the apartment; now he blazed with light like a human inferno, so bright that Maria could hardly bear to look at him.

David caught Marco's hand, twisting the gun away, bringing his own gun up against the side of Marco's head. "Drop it."

The gun fell to the ground and David kicked it away.

"I thought you didn't kill anymore," Marco spat in a show of defiance.

"He's stunned not dead."

Marco glanced down at the fallen man. "You'll never get out. There are four more of us below."

"I have a message for your boss. He wants war. Well, he's got it." David dropped the barrel of the gun and fired point-blank into Marco's leg. Marco dropped to the ground, screaming in pain and trying to staunch the blood pouring from the wound in his leg.

David strode over to Maria and helped her up.

"We need to go." He took her hand and pulled her across the roof at a run. They arrived at the far side of the building just as they heard a cry and turned to see three men and a woman run out onto the roof. Maria looked down at the water far below.

"Oh no. You're not going to do the thing with the rope again."

David grinned at her fiercely. "Bit far for that but I've had this waiting for just such an occasion." He reached over the parapet, and Maria saw a metal box affixed to the wall. David flicked a switch, and a metal wire with what looked like a hook on the end flashed out from the box and across to the nearest building straight through a hole that once held a window. There was a resounding metallic sound as the hook impacted into something metal on the far side. The box whirred as some mechanism retracted the wire until it was taught. David reached into the box and pulled out a loop of webbing with a carabiner attached, and pulled it down under his arms. "Grab hold of me."

"What the hell. What is it with you and jumping off buildings? You have got to be kidding. I can't do that!" There was a shout behind them. The men were running toward them. A shot rang out. David scooped her up, clipped himself to the wire and threw himself off the building. Maria screamed as they flew down the wire with the squeal of grinding metal. The other building raced toward them horribly fast. They flew straight through the empty window and crashed heavily into a pile of old mattresses.

David went to the end of the wire where the hook was stuck to a heavy metal plate. "Magnetic grappling hook."

He released a mechanism that severed the wire leaving the hook still solidly stuck to the plate.

"You are crazy!" Maria complained. She untangled herself and stood up, glancing down; the mattresses were moving under her feet.

"What the...?" A rat burst out from under the mattress, then another. Soon they were running out all over the floor. She screamed in horror, but David just ignored them and dragged her into the building as a volley of shots raked the room.

"Down the stairs," he ordered. They ran out of the room, accompanied by the squealing of rats, like a pair of macabre pied pipers, and crashed through the metal fire doors into the stairwell. It was dark inside punctuated only by shafts of dull light from small, dirty windows set in the wall. The walls were grey concrete, adorned only by occasional graffiti. They flew down the steps, two at a time, until they crashed into the lobby. The sunlight was fading fast, but rather than heading out of the lobby David sprinted into the building along a dusty corridor until he came to another door. He pulled his keys from his pocket and selected a bright red one, inserted it into the lock, and they burst through into the garage. The garage would once have been above ground, but now it was half a metre under water. A small aluminium speedboat sat bobbing in the waves caused by their movement.

"All aboard. I'll go open the doors." He tossed his bag into the boat and waded over to the metal grill that served as the outer door and unbolted it, pushing it up. The grill went up easily, suggesting that he had maintained it just in case.

"Untie it and start the motor," he called as he waded back. Maria unhitched the rope and then looked at the outboard helplessly.

"How does it work?"

"It's a petrol motor." He jumped in, causing the boat to rock alarmingly. He primed the motor and pulled a cord. The motor spluttered into life with a cloud of smoke. "You've probably never seen one." He laughed and turned the throttle, and they blasted out of the garage into the twilight. As they sped through the water away from the building, they heard gunshots ring out, but the bullets fell well short. The little boat powered eastward through the shallow water, creating a frothy bow wave and startling flocks of settled seabirds as it passed. The light faded completely.

Maria was sitting in the bow of the boat, looking forward. "I can't see a thing. Don't tell me you can see in the dark."

"No, but I know where I'm going. I haven't been back for a while, but I know the way."

The buildings gave way to more open areas and homes. At one time, this must have been a seaside suburb; now it was just a shallow lagoon with the remnants of people's homes sticking out of the water like tombstones. A dead and drowned place. A pale sliver of a moon came up, touching the waves with silver, adding to the unreal scene.

"This place gives me the creeps," Maria said.

"It makes me sad more than anything, but I know what you mean. Hard to believe people used to live here once and now we sail over the top of what's left of their homes," he paused "You ok?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

"Why?" he asked.

"I didn't really believe you when you said they would come looking for me. I phoned the police and told them what happened last night. I thought you were exaggerating and that if I called then things might go back to normal."

"Oh."

"Sorry. I know you said not to use the phone. I didn't tell them where I was."

"Doesn't matter."

"They blew your door in."

"Yeah I saw that. I went in to get my things. Look, don't worry. We got out in one piece, that's all that really matters. Anyway, the place needed a do out. It was looking a bit tired."

She smiled at the bad joke. "Thank you."

He smiled. "They were just things. Things don't matter."

A few minutes later, over the sound of the little motor, Maria heard David humming a little tune to himself. She turned around to face him. He smiled at her.

"You seem to like the water."

"I do. Good memories. I've spent many happy hours sailing on the sea. This isn't quite sailing, but anyway."

"What's the tune you were humming?"

"An old folk song. I play it on the guitar. Very famous in its time. "The Wreck of the John B" although there's nothing about a wreck in the lyrics.

"Sing it for me."

"No. I can't sing at all."

"Give it a go," she said.

"Oh no. You haven't heard me sing. Not only can't I hold a note, but I can't find one to hold in the first place. Dogs start howling when I sing and small children run away screaming." He gave her an apologetic smile.

She laughed at him.

"Anyway, the words go..."

"We sailed on the sloop John B

My grand pappy and me

Round Nassau Town we did roam

Drinking all night, we got into a fight

I feel so broke up I wanna go home."

"I can certainly relate to that last line anyway." Maria said. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the chill.

"There's a blanket under the seat. Wrap it around you. It's getting a bit cool." She nodded and pulled it out, settling back to stare into the dark. In the bottom of the boat, she saw that his long wooden staff was clipped onto his bag. Some things do matter to you, she thought.

They travelled for nearly an hour before David turned toward the shore and the lights became clearer. Soon a hillside loomed above them and David pulled into a small wooden dock and tied up the boat. He grabbed his bag and hopped up onto the dock then reached down to help her out.

He stood looking down at her. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Things are just crazy. I don't know what to think or what to do."

"I understand." He took her hand and led her up small path that wound up the hillside.

"Where are we going?

"To see some old friends."

The slope flattened out and they came to a gravel path that led into a formal Chinese garden. In front of them loomed a large pagoda. It was five stories high, built of pink stone and capped with a green roof that curled up at the corners. Two large polished wooden doors inscribed with golden characters stood open, with a small glowing lantern hung from the lintel. David led her up the steps inside. The interior was dark, and she got the sense of a large, open area and decorated marble columns, but David turned to the right and led her up a set of stairs to the next floor. At the top of the stairs stood an armed man, but he relaxed at the sight of David.

"We weren't sure it was you." He slung the gun over his shoulder and they embraced briefly.

"Maria. This is John. An old friend."

John nodded to her and smiled. "Ma'am," John was a tall well-muscled African American with a shaved head and deep brown eyes. He was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. His aura was a strong pure white.

"Where are they?" David asked.

"In the green room." John turned and led them down the hallway to a sliding paper door. They could hear low voices inside and a soft light made the paper glow. John pulled it open and they entered.

A group of people sat around a low table drinking tea from small ceramic cups. Next to the table, steam rose from an iron teapot sitting in a little frame with a candle under it, keeping it hot.

A very small, wizened, Asian woman stood, walked over to David and threw her arms around him hugging him tightly. She was so small her head only came up to his chest. He hugged her back, and a gentle smile settled on David's face.

"Hello old lady, I'm sorry it's been so long."

"Old, who are you calling old," she whacked him on the arm. She smiled up at him. "It has been too long, and as usual, all you bring is trouble."

"Yeah I'm pretty good at that."

She turned to face Maria "So this is the girl we've been hearing about. She looked back at David. "Pretty one, except for the bruise." Maria put a hand up to her face, embarrassed.

"Yes, this is Maria. We're here because she's in real danger."

The little woman lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't we all? Are you going to introduce us?"

"Maria this is Bik, a very old friend of mine. This is her house." Maria looked at her carefully. Her aura was not white, but then again it wasn't like an ordinary human's either. It glowed a deep, translucent, jade green.

You've met John. This is Luke," he indicated a blond, pale-skinned young man with arrestingly blue eyes and a pure white aura. A third man walked into the room. "And this is Paulo," he nodded at a Latino man with brown hair, brown eyes and tattoos up both arms.

Maria's eyes widened and she backed away in shock. "But he's red!"

They all looked at her in shock and confusion. "He's like the ones who attacked me."

Paulo looked genuinely horrified. "I haven't done anything. I don't know what she means."

David came and put his arm around her. "It's ok, relax. Paulo is a hybrid, but he's not like the others. He's a good guy. We trust him. I trust him."

Maria was shaking, and her heart was beating rapid-fire in her chest, but then she noticed something. "He's different." It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yes," said David. "He's nothing like the others who attacked you." Paulo was nodding vigorously.

"No. That's not what I mean." She was calming down now. She took a huge breath and tried to calm her beating heart. "He doesn't look the same. He's pure red. The others, they all had flecks of black in their auras. They looked sick, diseased I mean. Especially Sven when he got angry."

"That's interesting," murmured Bik.

"Why?" Maria asked turning toward her.

"Because we can't see the difference." The little woman said simply.

David was looking curiously at her. "You told me they looked red."

"They were mostly red, just with black streaks or flecks." He nodded, absorbing the significance of that.

Bik came around to her and gently took her hand. "Come and have some tea dear. You can sit by me and I'll tell you all about young David." The others laughed at that, and Maria sensed it was some in-joke they shared.

"Behave Bik."

"I always do," she said with mock offence.

The uncomfortable moment had passed, and they all settled down at the table.

"We saw you come in the boat. You run into trouble?" Paulo's voice was deep and gravelly. He still looked a little shaken at the accusation.

"Marco and five others attacked my apartment at the Grand. I didn't think they knew about it. Clearly I was wrong."

Maria looked down realising that David had not told them the whole truth, that she had led them to apartment."

"You're both alright?" Bik asked concerned.

"I'm fine. Maria has had a tough couple of days though, that and I keep throwing her off buildings." He gave Maria a grin and then quickly related to them the events of the preceding day as Bik put some Oolong tea in a cup and poured hot water over it from the steaming teapot. Maria looked down into the cup and saw a small black camellia leaf starting to open at the bottom.

"Marco was lucky it was you with the gun. If it was me, he would have been doing a swan dive off the roof," John growled.

"I only creased his leg with the bullet, but he won't be doing any running for a while."

"They're getting bolder all the time. We need to do something," Luke said as David concluded.

"It's the same all over the world. This has to be coordinated. They're mobilising while we're doing nothing," John added.

They talked for a while, and as the tension of the past few hours ebbed away Maria began to feel a huge weariness overcome her and her eyes started to droop. Bik noticed and turned to her. "You look tired, dear. Perhaps we should go and let them talk. I'll show you to one of the spare rooms, and you can have a shower while I make us all some dinner."

Bik showed her to a small but beautifully decorated room upstairs. There was a four-poster bed with crisp white sheets, and a light gold and red duvet, decorated with Chinese dragons. The furniture was all polished wood and looked antique. She ran her hands over the smooth wood. This was nothing like her apartment.

"This is gorgeous," she said.

Bik smiled. "Thank you." Bik seemed genuinely please by the compliment. "Make yourself at home. Any friend of David's is always welcome here."

Bik vanished to organise dinner and left her to it. A shower seemed like a lovely idea and she opened the door to the bathroom and peeked inside. Like the rest of the room, it was beautiful, with cream coloured marble that looked like it had fossils embedded in it, complimented by polished bronze tap ware. A large, deep, white porcelain, freestanding bath sat in the corner. She ran the bath, undressed and got in, letting the hot water continue to run so that the water slowly rose to envelop her. She heard a knock at the door and Bik called out. All she caught was "...on the bed." The hot water relaxed her aching muscles and she lay there, soaking it up. She started to feel sleepy. After half an hour or so, she reluctantly got out and wrapped herself in towels. In the bedroom, a beautiful Chinese style dress, in green, lay on the bed. She ran the silk through her hands. This was something she could never have afforded. She put it on and studied herself in the mirror. The dress was a little tight but otherwise fitted her well. Clearly not one of Bik's. Sitting on the bed was a small pot of arnica cream and she picked it up and walked back to the bathroom. Her face was worse if anything: purple and black. She gently rubbed on some of the cream and then went back into the bedroom. She lay down on the bed meaning to close her eyes for just a moment and drifted off immediately.

She awoke to a light knock on the door.

"Are you ok?" It was David.

"Yeah. Come in. I fell asleep."

He pushed open the door and peered around it. "You must have needed it. Dinner's ready."

She stood up and he looked at her with admiration, "Wow, where did you get that?"

She looked down at the dress, smoothing it with her hands. "Bik left it for me."

"It suits you," he smiled. "Hungry?"

"Now I think about it, yeah."

"Oh, before I forget," he pulled an ID card out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"How did you get it? It takes weeks to get a replacement"

"It's not real, but it'll pass all but the closest inspections. It helps that it really is you of course."

"You know people who can forge ID's."

"Yeah," was his only response. "Come on."

She joined him in the hall and he led her down stairs to a room that was open to the night air. Glowing paper lanterns illuminated the space. John was sitting, reading a book and drinking from a small glass. A partly empty bottle stood on the low table beside him. He looked up as they entered. "The others have just gone down to bring up the food. Do you want a drink? It's a gewürztraminer, I think."

David found some more glasses and poured himself and Maria a drink. Maria took her glass and went to look out over the balcony into the night. Clouds had started to cover the sky; it would rain again soon. David came to stand near her but kept his silence. As she watched, a flash of electric blue caught her sight, then another.

"I love fireflies. There's something magical about them," she said.

"They are gorgeous, aren't they? Ephemeral. They never used to live here, but now it's warmer they seem to be thriving."

"Because of the climate change?" she asked.

"That and the end of cheap energy years ago meant that people stopped wasting power on lighting. Less lighting, less development and warmer temperatures. Perfect conditions."

"You seem to know a lot about history."

"I read a lot."

There was a noise behind them, and Bik opened the door followed closely by the others, all carrying steaming bowls of food. The smell of cooked food made Maria's stomach growl.

Bik came over to her. "It was my cousin's. It looks good on you. Keep it."

"Thank you. It's lovely."

"Food's up folks. I'm hungry and I'm not waiting for you guys." Luke sat and started piling food out of the bowls onto his plate.

"Not a scrap of meat on him, but he's always hungry. It's a wonder he's not huge," grumbled John.

"Good genes," said Luke between mouthfuls.

They all sat and started eating and talking happily. For the first time since the dance party Maria really relaxed.

6: A Killing - July 8

She slept fitfully until the early hours. Visions of red hued monsters pursuing her haunted her dreams. Unable to return to sleep she lay in the soft, warm bed thinking over the day. She was completely adrift. Everything she knew was out of reach. She worried about Nina, but didn't dare try to contact her after her last call had brought disaster.

It started to rain heavily. Somehow, that had always made her feel more secure. She had always wondered if it was because it closed everything in and deadened the sounds. She was finally drifting back off into a peaceful slumber when she heard raised voices down the hall accompanied by lots of movement. Fearful, she threw on her old clothes and hurried out of the room. Everyone was awake. David stood outside his room talking to John. He wore an expression she had not seen on him before: grim.

"You should go back to bed," he said bluntly.

Not to be deflected, she shook her head. "What's wrong?"

"Something's happened. I have to go out into the city."

"I'm not staying here on my own."

"Bik will be here."

"She's an old lady."

"She may be old but she's far from helpless, I assure you."

"No, I'm coming."

"It won't be nice."

"I don't care."

He thought for a moment. "Ok. You'll need a coat." They piled into an old bio-diesel truck. Luke drove with John in the front, literally riding shotgun with a large pistol on his lap. She and David sat in the back. Paulo had elected to stay with Bik at the house.

She sat in truck watching the rain stream down the glass. No one was talking and the mood was tense. The rain was so heavy that Luke had difficulty seeing, and the headlights were just about useless. He had to drive slowly through the dark, narrow streets as parts of the road were flooded and he couldn't gauge the depth of the pot holes. Even the homeless had taken cover from the deluge, and the streets were unusually deserted. She was trying to figure out where they were in the city. They had left the partly flooded harbour suburbs and were heading northwest away from the sea and toward the centre of the city. The bright lights of the Core were clearly visible above them even through the downpour. The city was huge by any standards, but was divided up into a number of areas. The old harbour area was the southernmost and the lowest. The rising sea levels were slowly inundating it year by year. To the west were the heavily populated slums that were home to millions. Behind the harbour to the north, the land rose steeply towards the Core as it was known. The wealthy, modern heart of the mega city contained its commercial district and towering apartment blocks. It stood out in the darkness like a beacon of light. Behind it, in the hills surrounding the city on three sides, were the sparsely inhabited suburbs of the rich, boasting huge mansions on extensive grounds. At least that's what she had been told, she had never been there, never seen it with her own eyes. To the north-east of the sea front was the Flooded Quarter, the area that they had travelled through to get to Bik's house. It had once been the residential heart of the city, but was now a graveyard of old homes. Bik's home sat on the north-east edge of the Flooded Quarter on a promontory that stuck out into the bay. Behind the hills were the farms that fed the city: a mixture of enormous automated farms, and smallholdings producing seasonal niche crops.

Luke turned on to a main road and the traffic increased. The city never really slept, and as they neared the centre, the traffic increased: a mix of cars, tuk-tuk's, electric scooters and bikes. She shook her head as she saw an old man riding a battered looking scooter with a plastic bag on his head rather than a helmet. Luke took a side road and headed west. He seemed to be heading toward an area that was often frequented by artists; the cultural heart of the city based around the old University and its grounds. The sky was beginning to brighten towards dawn as they approached a set of two storey, old, stone buildings. Luke headed for an entrance. An armed police guard in black ,wet weather gear stood blocking the way. Luke pulled up and rolled down the window.

"Hey man."

The officer looked into the truck, nodding to David and John in acknowledgement. "You'll need to be quick. People will start to arrive soon and there's a forensics team on the way. The detective's inside by the body.

Luke nodded. "Ok." The guard stepped out of the way and Luke drove in, parking the truck just inside the gates.

The buildings were old, built out of cut, grey stone with ornate arched windows.

They formed a square around a courtyard that contained a well-maintained grassy area. On summer days, artists and students probably sat there to eat lunch, talk and enjoy the sunshine. In the dark and the rain, it looked cold and threatening. In the centre of the courtyard, a large wooden pole had been erected. It angled forward at about ten degrees. A man had been tied to the pole. His arms were pulled behind him, lashed to the pole, and his feet tied to the base. He looked to Maria like the figurehead on an old sailing ship. He was slumped and unmoving. Another man stood next to him keeping vigil: the police detective.

"Why haven't they released him?" Maria gasped.

"I don't know." David replied. They all got out of the truck and into the rain. Maria pulled her hood up, but David simply strode over to the man standing in the centre of the courtyard, oblivious to the downpour. The man wore a long coat with the hood up so it was hard to see his face. He turned as David reached him.

"Gabe."

"David." He turned to look at the others who had followed. "John, Luke" He glanced momentarily at Maria probably wondering who she was. She couldn't fail to see his powerful, white aura.

"Hello," she said quietly.

"Gabe, this is Maria." Gabe nodded, "Hello," then he turned back to David. "I didn't want him cut down until you'd seen him."

"Is this pole normally here?"

"No. Someone erected it especially. They're doing some restoration work to the building around the back. The pole came from there."

"It's a sign. A sign to us." David said.

"What's the message? The bastards killed a harmless art professor. Isaac wouldn't hurt anyone. Are they trying to say that they're cowards, who can hunt down a man who was no threat to them at all?" Gabe asked.

"No. This is a personal message to me. Maybe even a payback for something that happened yesterday."

"How'd you work that one out? You're getting paranoid in your old age."

"No." David's voice was quiet and hard. "This is called Field Punishment number 1. It was used on conscientious objectors in the First World War. Men whose conscience wouldn't let them fight. The message is for me."

Gabe nodded as if he understood the association. "What happened yesterday?"

"I shot Marco in the leg and tasered some other thug."

Gabe barked out a laugh. "Shame it was only his leg."

"My thoughts exactly," muttered John.

Gabe opened his coat and took out a small, plastic evidence bag. In it was a small white feather. "In that case, this would be the mark of a coward. It was in his front pocket." He paused for a moment. "They're trying to goad you into a fight, I would say."

"I know."

"This is the second one in a week."

"I know."

Gabe looked at him and then nodded. "Ok. I'll keep you posted. There are CCTV cameras in the buildings. We might be able to make an ID."

"Thanks Gabe." They shook hands and David turned to go.

"We need to respond to this David."

"Find out who was responsible. Then we'll deal with them."

Gabe nodded and turned back to the dead man.

The mood in the car on the way back was quiet and sombre. David just stared out of the window at the falling rain, lost in his own thoughts. Once they were back at the house, he waited until the rain stopped and then disappeared into the garden and didn't return until well after Maria had gone to bed. She lay in the warm sheets listening to the raised voices below her and couldn't help but feel that things were reaching a crisis point.

7: Friends and Enemies

The next morning dawned fine and warm. The rain had passed and the sunlight streamed into the bedroom, waking her. The house was quiet and she could hear birds singing in the trees, and dogs barking in the distance. She dressed in the beautiful silk dress that Bik had given her and wandered down to the kitchen. John was there making a pot of fragrant tea.

"You want a cup?" he asked, pointing at the teapot.

She nodded.

"Did you manage to get any sleep last night?"

"A little," she said. "I could hear the talking."

"Don't worry about it. Just a robust discussion." He gave her a toothy grin placing a cup in front of her. "After the shouting, we did a lot of talking. It's a very complex situation at the moment. We've known each other far too long to let a disagreement pull us apart."

"Did you come to a decision?"

"Yeah. The broad outline of a plan anyway. I still have my doubts, but David is convinced, and he can be pretty determined sometimes."

"Determined as in stubborn?"

"Maybe a little." He laughed." Having said that, he's no fool, he has enough common sense to know when he needs to change tack."

"Is David around?"

He nodded. "Out at the garden. Doing some exercise."

She walked out of the house and down the steps, cradling the hot tea in her hands. She found him in a clearing edged with white camellia bushes. She sat on a low brick wall to watch. He was stripped to the waist and practising with his staff. He dodged and spun acrobatically, the staff whistling through the air: A mixture of grace and power, his powerfully muscled body was glistening with sweat. He was covered in scars, the pale remnants of old injuries. He didn't pause or acknowledge her presence in any way, but she was certain he was well aware of her watching him. The exercise continued for nearly ten minutes before he swung to a halt and then stood there, staff held in both hands across his thighs, his eyes closed as he breathed in and out, perfectly still. He stood there for a minute and then spun smoothly to look at her."

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yeah. I always feel better after a workout. Focusses the mind." He walked over to pick up his water bottle and took a long drink.

"You have a lot of scars."

He looked down at his arms and body "I seem to have accumulated them over the years," he responded ambiguously.

"I'm sorry about your friend. I didn't get the chance to say it yesterday," she said.

"Thanks. He was a good man, a kind man. He was a talented artist, taught at the University. He used to go there to teach free art classes at night. He wasn't a soldier or a fighter, but he wasn't a coward. He didn't deserve that."

"You think they did it just to goad you?"

"Maybe to get me back for Marco as well, but I don't think so. I can't think of any reason why they would hurt him otherwise. Not in that very specific way."

"So why are they trying to provoke a conflict?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "This is just an escalation of something that's been happening for a very long time. We've been fighting a shadow war for ages. Now they're bolder; they've raised the stakes. I don't know why. Something's changed."

"What are you fighting about?"

"Control, ideology, power, what else. What are all wars about?"

"I don't understand." There was a crunching of gravel and John walked up behind her. She turned at the sound of his footsteps.

"You should tell her David."

"It's not her fight."

"It is her fight. If not now, after what happened to her, then soon enough. You know what's coming."

She turned back to David. "What's coming?" she asked alarmed.

"A war. We all see it." said John softly. He was speaking directly to David. "If it happens, then everyone will be involved. It'll be everyone's fight. There won't be anywhere to hide."

"What does John mean? I'm not at war with anyone. I'm not on anyone's side," she said. John just looked at David.

David looked down at Maria and sighed. "Do you believe that all men are created equal?"

"Of course," she said uncertainly. Somehow, the conversation had taken an odd turn.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because... they are."

"Sorry, but no they aren't. I don't think the question even makes sense. Equal in what sense; in what way? Take any two people, one is always going to be smarter, stronger, better looking, or more creative. They aren't equal in any respect, so there is no way to compare them overall. If you can't compare them, the question is rendered meaningless."

"Ok. I've never really thought that hard about it. I don't understand where this is going," she said, confused and a little grumpy at being contradicted.

"I don't believe that all men are equal. I think that all men have the right be treated equally and that no one is intrinsically better, or worthier, than anyone else."

"Not sure I believe you. I can think of a couple of individuals in particular that I think are scum."

He laughed. She liked it when he laughed; he was usually so serious.

"Fair enough. With a few exceptions. The point I'm making is more philosophical, and remember I did shoot one of those individuals in the leg for you."

She laughed. "Yes, thank you for that. It was most appreciated."

"You're welcome. However, the point is that some of us—the demons, as you call them—don't believe that at all. They consider themselves superior, at least to the human species, and that they are entitled, for that reason, to rule. It's about power and control."

That sounds like Nazi crap."

"I agree with you. It is crap, but that's what they believe. I'm not trying to justify their position, but think of it in terms of the way humans treat other creatures. Look at the way humans have exploited, killed and eaten even intelligent creatures like dolphins, whales and apes. The demons see themselves as superior to humans in the same way that humans see themselves as superior to other animals and therefore by analogy they have dominion over them. The problem for them has always been that they have been in the minority of us, and as I've already said, humans vastly outnumber both of us together. Right or wrong, that didn't matter; it's always been a fight they could never win."

"Now they can?"

"They have been increasing in numbers for years now. Numerically they are close to equal with us now and therefore much harder to control."

"Ok. So, you guys are going to have a war. How does that make it my war, what's it have to do with us 'mere' humans?" She crossed her arms across her chest and stared at him.

David hesitated.

"In for a penny man. You have to tell her the whole truth." John said. Maria got the impression that they had discussed these topics many times before. David hesitated again.

"It's because the more powerful of us, can make people do things that they wouldn't ordinarily do. We can influence their actions."

Maria looked at David. "What? Mind control?" She was shocked.

"No, it's not direct control. It's not like a puppet master pulling the strings. No one really knows how it works. We think it is a side effect of the aura. It makes people easily influenced, more malleable. Over time, we can make them think and act the way we want. In the short term, if they already have a belief or a tendency toward something, then we can strengthen it."

"So, you can bend the whole human race to your will?" She stuck her hands out in front of her and bowed to him "Yes master.' David pushed her arms down and shook his head.

"Don't do that." David said darkly.

"I was joking."

"I know, but it isn't funny when you see what it can do." He paused. "Have you heard of Viktor Yanaev?"

"Yeah, who hasn't: the crazy Russian guy?"

"What about Igor Zhukov?"

"No." She shook her head.

"Zhukov is the leader of our enemies. He is also Yanaev's closest adviser and friend. Care to venture an opinion why Yanaev has been likened to Hitler? Zhukov has made him the way he is or at least strengthened those beliefs, I think he always was a bit crazy. You see you don't need to persuade everyone. Just pull the right strings with strategically selected people; set up the right conditions and the majority will fall into line. Control those in power, and you control the country." He paused. "Have you ever heard of the Third Wave Experiment?"

She shook her head. "Look it up some time. It'll show you just how easy it is to create the kind of atmosphere and conditions that prevailed in Nazi Germany in the 1930's and 40's, and in Russia at the moment."

"So, Zhukov is trying to start a regime in which he is pulling the strings behind the scenes, and then he wants to take over the world." She realised she sounded a little sceptical.

"I'd say he's already succeeded in that first part. The second is just beginning unfortunately."

"Can he take on the world? Russia is powerful, but it's no match for Europe and America combined."

"Russia would have the ability to draw the whole world into a war, but beat them on its own - I don't think so, no."

"Nuclear weapons?"

David shook his head. "He wants to rule the world not destroy it. Even Zhukov isn't that crazy. But you make the mistake of assuming Russia is on its own."

"It isn't?"

"It only appears that way. The Islamic states are mostly lining up behind Iran and the military junta in Indonesia is escalating its military disputes. At the same time, the Americans are suffering their worst political crises in years with the deadlock between the President and the Senate. These events all seem to be unrelated, but they aren't. We just assume it's the usual conflicts that always seem to be flaring up, no matter how hard we try to stop them. Like a game of whack-a-mole. You stop one and a new one flares up somewhere else. Zhukov's allies are behind many of these events. They are working toward a divide-and-conquer strategy. The Europeans will be busy fighting Yanaev. The Americans will be divided between Indonesia and Europe like in the Second World War, and the Islamists will take the opportunity to take the Middle East and Northern Africa. They divide the world into three blocks but all under the ultimate control of Zhukov.

"And you're fighting them?"

"Not in the open, as I said; a shadow war. We try to influence them one way and disrupt their plans and they work against us. Now it's turning from influence and strategy to violence."

"Sounds like you're losing the battle."

"So far we are." John spoke for the first time in ages. "We need to start to turn the tide."

"We will, and we start here. We start with Ballock." David picked up his things.

"Does that help answer your question at all?" he asked.

"Maybe. If you'd told me that there is some secret conspiracy to control the world a few days ago, I'd have said you were crazy. Now, I'm not so sure."

David smiled. "Maybe I am a little crazy. Some people think so anyway." He looked at his watch "I have some things to organise. I'll catch up with you both later. Ok?" He strode off into the garden.

There's still one thing I don't understand?" Maria said after he'd left.

"What's that?" John asked.

"Why are they calling David a coward? What was with the poor guy tied to the pole?"

"David doesn't want to kill anyone. He is looking for a different way."

"I can understand that, but sometimes you don't have a choice." she answered.

"Yeah. Sometimes you have to. If you want to know the answer to that one, you have to ask David. That's personal. Not my place to tell you."

8: A Touch of the Divine

She didn't see David for the rest of the day, but the house itself was a hive of activity. Clearly things were happening quickly. She busied herself helping Bik in the kitchen, cooking and making seemingly endless cups of tea as people came and went. After dinner, she found herself a quiet place on one of the balconies and sat staring out into the night at the distant city and drinking a cup of herb tea. She was tired but it was the pleasant weariness of a hard day's work.

"How are you? I hear you've been the chief cook and bottle washer today." He had come up so quietly behind her that she literally jumped at the words. "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," David said apologetically.

"That's ok, I was miles away. Just having a bit of quiet time."

He nodded. "Most of the others have gone now."

"A good day?" she asked.

"Yeah. Things are in motion anyway."

She was quiet for a moment, wrestling with the question she wanted to ask. The conversation they'd had, had been going around in her head most of the day. "Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Sure."

"It's about last night and what you were saying this morning. I haven't been able to get the image of that poor man out of my head all day. I don't understand why someone would do that to anyone. I don't understand why you don't want to tell the Police; get them locked away for ever. I've never seen anything like that. I don't want to see it ever again." The tears started to well up in her eyes.

He came and sat down next to her, a sad expression on his face. "I understand what you're saying, and I want justice for Isaac as much as anyone, but getting them locked up is complicated. How do you explain it if someone doesn't grow old the way you'd expect? How do you explain it when they do something they shouldn't be able to do? Justice will come to them sooner or later. I'll make sure of that."

She looked up at him. "Why don't you want to fight them? They killed your friend and they are planning outright war. Sometimes you have to meet fire with fire."

He looked at her quizzically. "That was a bit blunt. There's a lot more to you than I suspected. You're a bit of a hawk."

"I don't like it when someone tries to hurt me."

He nodded and then gave a deep sigh. "First, I need a drink." He went over to a cabinet and pulled out a 12 year old bottle of Glenfiddich. He showed her the bottle, but she just shook her head.

"I spent a bit of today trying to find out what happened to Nina for you."

Maria sat up. "And?"

"And nothing, I'm afraid. I sent people to her apartment and to see her parents at the restaurant, but she's vanished. No one has seen her since that night."

"Oh no."

"We'll keep looking. We'll find her."

Maria started to cry and David got a tissue, went over and put his arm around her until the sobs subsided.

"Sorry," she said.

"Not your fault." He was silent for a minute.

"Tell me about you, what's your story?" she asked, "Take my mind off it."

"Mine's not a happy story. What about I tell you about something else? It's related to what we were talking about this morning."

She thought for a moment. "About you being able to control people, or Zhukov wanting to take over the world?"

"It's a little about influencing people, and also, why I think everyone should be treated equally. It also might give you some understanding about why I don't want to kill anyone, at least if I can avoid it."

She nodded.

"Do you believe in God?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I used to. My mother certainly did, and she raised me to believe, but over the years it's just kind of faded away. Too many questions I guess. You?"

"Sort of, but perhaps not in the way you think. I certainly don't believe in organised religion or any kind of traditional God."

"An angel that doesn't believe in God!" She put on a shocked and surprised expression. He smiled his gentle smile.

"I believe that in all living things there is a touch of the divine: a shard of God if you like. That's what gives life to inanimate matter. With plants and simple animals, the shard is very small, so small the aura is near undetectable. Even with larger animals it's faint, but you can see it if you try. With the more intelligent animals, like apes and dolphins it's clear but simple. With humans, it's different. There's a quantum leap in intensity and complexity. Anyway, it's what all life has in common. That's why every living thing has an aura. The outward expression of the inner divinity. Sometimes with humans, our lives and our experiences can twist that shard, distort it, maim it, but it's always there."

"Is that why the auras of the hybrids, well the bad ones anyway, look diseased?"

"Maybe. Only you can see that. We just see them as red." He paused for a moment thinking. "The ancient Greeks used to think that a beautiful body was the sign of a beautiful soul. That's why they expended so much effort trying to look good. I don't think they were right about that; how a person looks tells most of us almost nothing about their true nature. However, for you maybe it's true; a diseased looking aura is a sign of an evil soul."

She swirled her tea around in the cup. "So, what does that have to do with fighting people?"

"Once you see that all life is connected, you value it more. All life becomes precious. Who am I do decide if someone lives or dies? Who am I to extinguish a touch of the divine?"

"But these are evil, corrupt people who hurt others. They don't play by those rules."

"True." He stopped for a moment. "I have done a lot of fighting in the past."

"I noticed the scars," she put in.

He looked directly at her. "I've killed people before. It's always been in a war, or because I was defending myself or someone else, but I've had enough of killing. It doesn't solve problems. You can't kill your way out of a problem. I have enough blood on my hands. I don't want any more. There has to be a better way, or at least I hope there is" He drifted off into his thoughts.

She sat there for a while, trying to mesh what she knew of him against what he had just told her. He seemed quiet, kind, and thoughtful, but there was a lot more going on behind those blue eyes of his than she knew.

"Tell me more about the auras."

He looked up at her. "As I said before, we think it's the aura that can influence other people. The more powerful an aura, the more it can affect someone else. For an ordinary human's aura to affect someone, they have to be together a long time. For someone like me, it is quicker and I can consciously make it happen. But it's not instant and it requires reinforcement, or a person's innate nature gradually reasserts itself. It's easier if someone already wants to do it and you just reinforce that desire.

"So that's what Zhukov and his minions are doing? Pushing people in positions of control in the direction they want them to go."

"Exactly."

She was quiet for a moment, pursing her lips. "You've done it too, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have. To my great shame. In my defence, it wasn't for any kind of personal gain, it was for what I thought were the right reasons at the time but that doesn't excuse it. Now I see it for what it is - a violation, a kind of possession." He drifted off for a moment, lost in his memories, sipping at the glass of amber liquid in his hand.

She touched his arm looking up into his eyes, sympathy on her face. It was pretty clear to her that whatever his history, he was a good man. He cared. He wrestled with self-doubt and the results of his actions. "You're not making it easy for yourself, are you? Trying to fight a war with all these limitations on yourself."

"No, I guess not, but those are my limitations, not everyone agrees with me. Anyway, I'm not an idiot. I don't like killing people, but I have no problem with hitting them if I need to. I have no issue with defending myself, or others, if I have to. I just try my best to find another way. Anyway, this is still way too heavy. I think we need something to lighten the mood." He went to the cabinet and pulled out a wooden box with a hinged lid, and a brass handle on the side. He opened the lid and Maria saw an old-fashioned turntable inside. He turned the handle but nothing happened. He continued to turn and Maria realised it must be some kind of spring powered device. He went back to the cabinet and pulled out an old vinyl record, placed it carefully on the circular table and moved the arm across. The record started to spin and the music played. It might be old, but it had a nice warm tone about it. The music was slow and romantic.

"Dance?"

"I don't know how to dance to that."

"It might be a little before your time. Let me show you then." He held out his arm and she shyly got to her feet. He put his arms around her and, for the next hour showed her how to dance. Outside the rain began to fall and the sky lit up with a thunderstorm, but she barely heard it.

9: The Hive - July 9

The phone rang on David's bedside table. He picked it up, recognising the ringtone instantly. Gabe.

"Get out, they're coming for you!"

"Who?"

"Police. There was an explosion; a bombing in a mall. You've been framed. Get out now." The phone went dead.

She was fast asleep when her door banged open. "Maria, get up now. Get your things and get outside. Two minutes. We have to leave!" David yelled as he slammed the door behind him.

She lurched out of bed glancing at her watch, 3.30 a.m. It took her a second to register what he had said, but then she flew into action. As she had virtually nothing, packing was not an issue. She stuffed her few belongings in a bag Bik had lent her, got dressed in the clothes David had given her and ran down the stairs. The house was in chaos. David grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door and into waiting van. The door was barely shut before they were flying down the drive into the darkness and rain. As they pulled away, she saw Bik standing serenely at the door watching them go.

"What the hell is happening? Why are we leaving Bik?"

"There's been a bombing at a mall. The police are on the way. Coming for us. Bik wouldn't come." He pulled out a tablet and began searching for a news channel.

"We can't just leave her." David was preoccupied with the tablet. "David!"

"She is very good at looking after herself. Don't worry. I wouldn't leave her there if I thought she was in any danger." He found a news channel.

"Repeating this breaking news... there has been an explosion at the Hills shopping mall located in the northern Core. Police and emergency services are at the scene and we have reports of significant damage and multiple casualties. Police have indicated they believe the bombing is the work of a new, radical, anarchist cell calling itself the White Wing. We'll go live now, to the scene."

The view cut to a scene of chaos and flashing lights. A harried looking young woman stood sheltering from the rain under an umbrella.

"Simon, this is a major explosion. I can count ten fire engines and more arriving. The fire has really taken hold, even though there is a sprinkler system operating. You can see flames that must be thirty metres high over the roof of the complex. The smoke is thick and acrid, and the fire crews are trying to make sure that everyone is out of the building. There is a fleet of ambulances waiting to take the injured away."

"Cindy, do we have any idea of the number of casualties?"

As the news anchor was speaking, another massive explosion ripped through the mall and a huge fireball erupted from its side. The reporter and the camera-man were thrown to the ground by the force of the blast, and the screen dissolved into a riot of confused images. Then the feed went dead.

"Damn, two bombs." David spat the words out.

"They're using the old IRA tactic: first one draws them in, second one does the damage." John said from the front seat.

"They'll have our faces on every screen in no time." David said flatly.

We'll have to get out of the city, or at least lie low until things die down," replied John.

"No. We can't leave. That's what they're trying to do: force us underground or force us out. This is happening fast. Ballock is trying to unbalance us, stop us from putting a strategy in place."

"Seems to be working," John muttered.

"First I want to go to the Hive to see Peter and Rebekah. We can hide out there for a couple of days. That'll give us some time to plan and then we'll find somewhere secure to go forward with the plan. We need to get to my warehouse."

"The warehouse. You have to be kidding," chimed in Luke from the front seat. "They'll be watching it for sure. We'll have the police on us in minutes."

"I have an idea how to deal with that."

"Shall I phone the Hive, let them know we're coming?" asked Luke.

"I don't want to risk the chance of the call being traced."

Luke swung the vehicle off to the left, down a side street and headed away from the lights of the City centre.

"Why are we going to the Hive?" Maria asked. "Isn't it just a doss-house for jackers? How are they going to help us?"

"Most people think that, but when you meet Peter and Rebekah you won't ever make that mistake again. They are incredible people and incredibly useful to have as friends. Peter is the CEO of a tech company, and Rebekah is the editor of the Times." David smiled grimly and tapped her chin. "You can close your mouth any time. The jackers that you normally see, especially in our part of town, are often the ones with serious problems, mental illness or addiction. Being jacked-in changes the brain structure and chemistry. Apparently, it's a little bit like being addicted to hard drugs in that sense. The real world starts to lose its appeal for some of them and they get ...well lost, I guess. But even the jackers you see on the streets mumbling to themselves are often connected in ways that you and I can barely understand, and they can do things with computers that we will never be able to emulate. Peter and Rebekah can help us and the police won't be looking for us there, at least not immediately. We need them for what we have planned anyway."

"Ok. It seems every way I turn the world is nothing like I thought it was."

They drove for a couple of hours, each staring out the windows at the rain, lost in their individual thoughts. Luke's phone rang. After a few short words, he tossed the phone down on the seat and swore. "They're setting up roadblocks on the main routes out of town, searching cars. Prime Minister's holding a press conference at seven. I think we can expect our faces to be everywhere pretty soon. The net's tightening."

David just grunted.

The Hive came into view. Three tall buildings on a podium level, surrounded by a park. This part of the city was wealthier and more lights glowed from the buildings and houses, but the Hive was almost dark.

"Why's it dark?" Maria asked.

"Power's expensive," John responded. "They're more interested in using the power for computers than lights."

They drove through the park. Maria could see people walking under the trees all heading for the buildings. They pulled up in a small gravel parking lot. There was a row of large glass doors leading into the building. Behind the doors was a big hall filled with rows of tables illuminated by the faint light of glow bulbs. At one time, the hall may have been a car-park, but it had been converted into a dining-hall. There was a large crowd of people waiting patiently to be let inside. Maria turned to David, the question in her face.

"Breakfast's at six," was all he said.

The rain had subsided to a misty drizzle, so they got out of the car and joined the waiting crowd. They had only been waiting a couple of minutes when a bell sounded and the doors opened. Rather than a rush, the crowd moved forward slowly and quietly filing into the hall and finding a seat. The group found some seats at the end of a table and waited. Maria looked around, many of the people were jackers, but the majority were not. They looked like ordinary people, clearly down on their luck: the poor and the homeless.

"We're a bit pushed for time here David," John muttered.

"Patience."

Once everyone was seated, a small, slightly built, elfin looking woman strode forward and bowed to the assembled crowd.

"Good morning and welcome," she said her voice surprisingly clear and confident. "Thank you for sharing this meal with us. Thank you for sharing the light."

At that, lines of people streamed from the kitchens bearing platters of food and urns of tea. Next to Maria, David stood up and looked directly at the small spokeswoman. As he was the only person standing at the tables, she saw him immediately. She waved to a side door off the hall and then disappeared.

"Come on," David said. They all rose and followed him to the door. As they reached it, the door opened and the woman waved them through. Two armed guards stood behind her.

"David." She almost did a little dance and threw her arms around him. He hugged her back.

"Hi Rebekah. Good to see you."

"Hi guys," she smiled at John and Luke and then gave them both big hugs. She turned to Maria "I'm Rebekah," she stuck out her hand. Maria shook hands with her. "Maria." As she turned, Maria saw the flicker of light on her contact lenses, and the implant in her temple: a small, silver raised disk with glowing green lights.

"Well you guys are in a shit load of trouble."

"Tell us something we don't know," John responded.

"Come on." She nodded at the guards and led them into another hall. They must have been below one of the towers as a bank of lifts stood at the back. The hall was patrolled by guards. Rebekah led them to the stairs, and they began to climb.

"The Prime Minister's speech is in an hour. You three are all over the news. Arrest warrants out. Shoot on sight orders."

"We were framed," Luke interjected.

"I know that..." her tone was almost one of exasperation at the obviousness of his statement, "but that's not going to stop you getting shot."

They climbed thirty stories. Maria's calves were aching when they reached the top of the stairs. Rebekah strode over to a pair of large doors and swung them open. They followed her inside.

A tall, dark headed man was waiting for them. He strode to David and they clasped arms. He repeated this with John and Luke and then stepped close to Maria. "And you'll be Maria. Lovely to meet you." He planted the briefest touch of a kiss on her cheek. She didn't need to ask how he knew this when she saw the implant. She looked into his deep brown eyes, but they were clear. He wasn't wearing contacts.

He glanced at the screen and it flickered to life.

"Let's see what our Prime Minister has to say about you three."

Rebekah made them all strong coffee and they settled down to wait for the morning TV broadcast.

"We are about to cross to the announcement from Prime Minister Graham, but before we do that, we have some breaking news. There has been a second explosion involving a city train. The train was travelling on the Green Street overpass—which is part of the circular track around the Core —when it appears an explosion destroyed part of the overpass and the train has crashed off the track, down into the street below. There are multiple fatalities. Emergency services are at the scene but there is a real fear that more bombs may have been planted, and police are waiting for bomb disposal experts before they will allow anyone into the scene. We'll bring you more information as it comes to hand."

Pictures of the destroyed overpass and mangled train carriages piled up on the road below played across the screen. They all looked on in horror at the carnage displayed on the screen. Then the news anchor appeared.

"I understand that we now have the feed from the Prime Minister's office," he said in a solemn tone.

The screen switched. Images of the burning mall played in a small window as the Prime Minister spoke.

"Last night 187 innocent people died in an appalling act of violence in our city, our home. Twin bombs exploded in the Hills Shopping Mall. They were timed to cause maximum damage to our emergency services and first responders. Those responsible for this cowardly act will be hunted down and apprehended. I will do everything in my power to ensure justice is done.

Our intelligence service has identified those responsible as part of a new radical anarchist cell called the White Wing. Their avowed purpose is to destroy our country and our way of life. The Police have identified the leaders of the cell responsible for this atrocity."

Pictures of David, Luke and John appeared on the screen.

"We need to hunt these individuals down and bring them to justice. If you see them or know their whereabouts, please inform Police immediately. It goes without saying, they are armed and dangerous and should not be approached under any circumstances."

An aide stepped in and briefly spoke into the Prime Minister's ear.

"I have just been informed of the tragedy that is unfolding on the Green Street underpass. This barbaric act bares all the hallmarks of the White Wing. My thoughts and prayers go out to the victims of this latest atrocity. I vow to you these people will be caught, and they will be punished. That's all at this time."

The camera cut back to the anchor who started detailing the events again at Green Street.

"Turn it off," David said. Maria turned to him. His face was grim and hard.

"You need to get out of town David," Peter said.

"No. If we run, then they'll have a free hand. Martial law will be imposed, first here and then across the country. They'll just repeat the same trick until they have total control. We have to fight this."

"You're playing into their hands by staying. You'll just give them an excuse for imposing restrictions." Peter was almost imploring him. "This makes no sense."

"They're going to do it anyway. We're just the scapegoats. They get what they want and they get us out of the way. We need to warn everyone to go underground. They'll use this to hunt us down and crush all opposition."

"What are we going to do?" Rebekah asked quietly.

"I have a plan. It's already in motion. It's the ninth today. That gives us five days."

"Five days until what?" John asked.

"Bastille Day." They all looked at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses.

"Peter, can you put me in touch with a hacker cell?"

"This is the Hive. Of course, I can."

"No, I need the best. Someone who can crack the toughest encryption."

"You need a ghost. Someone who can walk through walls." Peter said.

"Ok. Can you do it?"

"Give me some time. They'll want to know what you have in mind."

"How does storming a fortress and bringing the city to a standstill sound."

Peter cocked an eyebrow at him. "Ok. That'll definitely interest them."

"Thanks. Do what you can. Ok, this is what I'm thinking: They've labelled us the villains in the piece, as terrorists and anarchists—the White Wing—so let's use that. Let's turn the White Wing into a force to bring them to their knees. Let's do the unexpected."

"Rebekah, can you write an editorial that plays that up? Who are the White Wing, what do they stand for, are they anarchists or freedom fighters? Can you write some press that we can get out using the Hive contacts? Start people thinking that something is going to happen. Not so much anti-government or the Prime Minister, but emphasising the poverty, the energy restrictions, the rioting, food shortages. Make the general population unsettled. More unsettled might be the better term. Let them know something is happening on the fourteenth."

"I don't know what the White Wing is though?" she said.

"Neither do I, Ballock made that up. He's elaborating on the white feather of the coward. All I want is people starting to question that we're the bad guys here. Create some uncertainty." She nodded, catching his drift.

"Luke, I want you to start rallying your friends in the anarchist groups, the eco groups, the civil rights organisations, anyone who might resist the Government. Maybe Maria could help you with that."

"Ok. I have links with lots of those groups. I'll start with Mary she has lots of contacts and respect with the movement."

"Maria?" David asked.

"Happy to help any way I can."

An image formed in Maria's mind, Gabe holding an evidence bag containing a single white feather, David's friend dead and crucified in the rain. "I have an idea," she spoke up. They turned to her. We need a symbol, something that people can relate to. I saw this guerrilla marketing campaign once. These symbols turned up all over the place one night. No words, no one knew what they were about. It got people talking, wondering. Turned out to be a new type of phone which was a let-down, but it worked. What about we use the white feather as a symbol of resistance? We can get people to start spray painting it around the city."

"I like it," David said. "I like the irony of turning a symbol of cowardice or objection into a symbol of resistance. Let's do it. It'll help us with what I'm working toward."

"What are we working towards?" Maria asked.

"Have you ever heard of the Million Man March, or Ghandi's Salt Satyagraha?" She shook her head. He smiled "Old history. Civil disobedience. People are already angry, desperate. I'm just setting the match to the tinder. I'm going to try to bring the people out onto the streets, disrupt the city and bring down the Government, but first we need to be able to move around the city. John and I are going to the warehouse."

**

Ballock walked down the stairs to the basement of his hillside home and turned left into the small hallway. He glanced right toward the wine cellar. He would have to pick a nice bottle of wine for the evening. He was in a good mood. Things were going well, even very well. Soon David would be out of the way and he could strengthen his hold on the city. First though, he deserved a little fun. He opened the door to the small room off the hall and walked in, carefully shutting the door behind him. Nina sat on the edge of the bed. She was dressed in just a flimsy nightdress. She looked up fearfully as he entered. The handcuffs had rubbed her right wrist raw where she'd been pulling, trying to get free.

He came over and stroked her hand. She tried to pull away, recoiling at his touch.

"Stop that." He slapped her hard. She glared up at him, fury and defiance in her eyes. He smiled. He grabbed her roughly and forced her down onto the bed.

10: The Warehouse

David pulled up his tablet and started to search. "Take a right at the next road, and take us into the car-park off the Selwyn Street Underground station."

"What are we doing?" asked John.

"Taking the back door."

John pulled the van over into the station and parked near the edge. "The station will be full of cameras and people, why are we here?"

"We're not going to the station. This is just a place to stash the van where no one will pay any attention to it. Lots of vehicles coming and going, and lots are left here for the day," replied David. He pulled on his cap, zipped up his hoodie and slipped out of the van. They headed away from the station, through the teaming rain, and down a side street to a small, enclosed yard. There weren't too many people about, and no one paid them any attention.

"From here, the business district and the warehouse are about 2 k's in that direction." David pointed to the western edge of the tall buildings of the Core that were clearly visible from the yard. "There are cameras everywhere in the Core, and the police presence will be even heavier than usual after the bombing. We can't go in through the front door because they'll be watching it. I had a secret entrance added a few years ago, just in case. Help me with this." He went over to a manhole cover and started trying to prise it up.

"You have got to be kidding me!" said John "The storm-water system."

"It's the main line. There is a narrow walkway along the side. You won't get wet." John looked up at the black clouds above them. "Yeah right."

David levered up the cover and a damp unpleasant smell rose up making him turn his head away." The smell is not so good however," he coughed. He pulled a small but powerful LED torch from his pocket and dropped feet first onto the iron ladder and disappeared.

David headed down the dank, arched passage, heading in the general direction of the warehouse. It had been a long time since he had used the exit, and he just hoped he could still find the way. The main line was a concrete shaft with a narrow walkway down one side. Normally, the walkway would be well above the waterline, but now the muddy, swift flowing water was lapping at its edges. A green line of mould on the wall above the walkway suggested that it could well rise higher.

They came to a junction and he went right over a narrow metal walkway and down a side tunnel, then turned left down an even smaller side tunnel. The height of the tunnel dropped and both men had to stoop slightly to avoid hitting their heads. The water was now over the walkway.

"What were you saying about us not getting wet?" John complained.

David turned to him. "Quit complaining. Would you rather go in the front door?"

"No, this is good. Well, better I guess. Did I mention I can't swim?"

David laughed.

They had walked for about half an hour, and David thought the entrance should just be a little further when they finally came to a service storage area: little more than a cave cut in the wall well above the water line. Eyes peered at them out of the gloom. Frightened, grimy faces. A group of children, probably orphans.

"Shit." John swore. "What are they doing down here?"

"I don't know. Better than outside in the rain, I guess." He made a mental note to mention it to Father Ramos. "It's ok," David said. "We don't mean you any harm." The eyes watched them warily as they passed.

A few hundred metres further in, they came to a low, metal door. It was grimy and the grey, anti-rust paint was bubbling and peeling. David pulled out his keys and pushed one into the lock. The mechanism was frozen and he twisted the key, trying to work it. Then, with a grinding, metallic sound, it opened. He swung the door back and reached in to flick a small switch. Pale yellow lights flickered on. The tunnel was tight, heading upward at a slight incline. Rough red brown bricks lined the walls. The sound of dripping water came from within. He went inside. He heard the door grind shut again behind him as John followed.

"Did I mention my claustrophobia," John muttered.

David led the way. John, who was bigger than he was, had to stoop to fit down the passage. At the end was a steel ladder, leading up to a small hatch. He reached up and pushed. Nothing. There was something on the hatch, stopping it opening. He flicked on his phone and dialled a number. "Eric, I'm at the back door. There's something in the way." He flicked the phone off and they waited. Minutes went by, then they heard scraping as something heavy was moved, and the hatch swung back. A large, bald head appeared in the hatch, grinning down at them.

"Hey man." A big hand came down and David pulled himself up.

The warehouse was huge. A big steel and concrete tilt-slab construction. Normally it was orderly stacks of boxes and racks. Now it looked as if a tornado had gone through it. David looked around, a disgusted look on his face. "I see we had visitors." He turned to Eric. "You ok? I couldn't give you any warning."

"Yeah, no drama. Hey John," he said as John pulled himself up through the hatch.

"Much get damaged?" David asked.

"It's not as bad as it looks, but I haven't been through everything yet. They trashed the place pretty well while they were searching for you." Eric was a huge man. At least seven feet tall, with arms like steel beams. Broad and muscular, he was made even bigger by the exoskeleton that was grafted to him. He was David's single employee; store man, forklift and guard.

"They take you in for questioning?" he asked

Eric nodded and shrugged his shoulders. David knew that it must have been bad. The police were not known for their gentleness.

"As I had no idea where you were, there wasn't much I could help them with anyway. They wanted to know about your associates, friends, where you might be. Gave me some shit about you bombing the mall and I told them it was shit."

"They download your data core?" David asked.

"Yeah, but that's just stock, inventory, boring shit."

"Anything else?"

Eric just shook his head. "They found my encrypted data core eventually. If they can break it, I'm afraid my mother's old recipe for savoury scones is gone for ever." He laughed. A big raucous belly laugh. "Didn't find the real stuff. No drama. "He turned serious. "I've scanned the place for bugs with everything I have, but I don't know if it's clear. Can't be sure."

"Understood. Let's move." He led them quickly to the rear of the warehouse, to a section of apparently blank wall next to the toilets. He placed his thumb on a stain just below the light switch. A hidden print reader scanned his thumb and a section of the wall slid back. Inside was a cache of weapons and other devices. David and John scooped everything into a bag, including some small boxes.

"Let's get out of here." They quickly returned to the tunnel. Eric barely fit through the hatch and then was forced to crab-walk, almost sideways down the narrow tunnel back into the storm-water system. They ran through the tunnels and back to the parked van. They didn't hear the explosion that blew the door in ten minutes later.

11: The Raid

Bik was sitting on the front porch in an old, cane rocking chair, with a steaming cup of tea in one hand. She had tidied the house quickly, erasing any sign that others may have been there. She had seen the SWAT teams move stealthily up the garden a few minutes earlier, cutting off the exits. They were good, and the sound of the heavy rain muffled any sound they made, but the light of even their weak human auras made them stand out like beacons to her. She snuggled back into the cushions and let them play their game. One, probably the leader, moved into the dark shadows and stood watching her through a single lens, night vision scope. He looked like a one-eyed monster from an old science fiction movie.

"Would you like some tea captain?" she asked in her frailest old lady voice, "It's a terrible night to be out in the rain."

The black clad figure looked about, confused, unable to comprehend that she was talking to him.

"A nice hot, sweet chai perhaps?" She motioned to him with her cup, so he was in no doubt she was talking to him. He must have issued an order, as within seconds black clad, armed men were swarming over the house. One raced up to her, covering her with a machine gun.

"On your knees!" he ordered. "Hands behind your back."

"That might take a moment, young man. My knees aren't quite what they used to be. And once I'm there you'll have to help me up again." She touched him lightly with her aura and saw the jade fire seep into him. He was already uncertain and she only needed the lightest of touches. She struggled up to her feet and put the cup on the side table, and then started to lower herself to the ground.

The young officer had no idea what to make of the tiny, old lady who showed absolutely no fear or even surprise at his sudden appearance.

The Captain strode up and looked at her carefully. "Search her, then get her up and get her inside," he said, as he stalked past.

The young man helped her up, gave her a cursory frisk, and then escorted her back into the house.

Bik sat down on a chair at the table in the kitchen. "If you want a drink, there's hot jasmine tea in the pot and some cake on the dresser.

"Umm, no thank-you Ma'am."

She gave him her sweetest little granny smile. In the other rooms, she could hear the sound of furniture being overturned and things breaking. They were trashing her home as they searched. She suppressed a brief flare of anger.

It was nearly half an hour later when the Captain strode into the kitchen. She could sense the fury and frustration in him. She cast her aura out calming the anger just a little. She didn't need him to get out of hand.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"Who are you after?"

"Don't waste my time old woman. These killers blew up a mall, killing hundreds of people. They blew up a train. I want to know where they've gone. Tell me." He stuck his face close to hers. She smelt old coffee on his breath.

"I don't know who you mean, my dear. I live here alone."

"Don't fuck with me!" he screamed. "Where are they? Where did they go?" This time, there was no subtlety about her touch. She slammed all her power into his mind and he flinched and shook his head.

"I live here alone. I don't know who you're talking about. Leave me in peace." The power in her voice was unmistakeable. The captain stepped back involuntarily, but she refused to release him. "There's nothing here."

Another officer stepped into the kitchen. "There's no one here. No sign of them at all. If they were here, they're long gone now."

The Captain turned and stared down at Bik who smiled serenely back at him.

"I don't think she knows anything. The intel must have been bad. Let's get out of here." He walked out, followed by the other two officers. Bik walked slowly to the door and watched as they got back into the waiting vehicles and the flashing blue and red lights disappeared down the driveway. Then she turned to start tidying up the mess they had made of her beautiful home.

12: A New Face

They arrived back at the van. "I'll leave you here," Eric said.

"What! Don't want to be caught with notorious terrorists?" John joked.

"No, I don't," Eric responded, entirely serious. "Every cop in the city is looking for you, man. You need to get out. They'll be looking for me now too. I'm going underground. Lying low for a while."

"I can't leave now." David replied. "But you should disappear for a while. Can you do something for me though?"

"Of course."

"Talk to the other Augs, spread the word. Bastille Day-14th July. We're going to hit the streets, mass civil disruption and protest."

The big man smiled. "Sounds like fun. But the cops and the security forces will come down hard. You saw what they did the other day."

"Not this time. I'm going to give them a few other issues to think about. Hopefully, I'm also going to find a way to bring down the Prime Minister at the same time."

"Ok, you'll need to let me know when and where, but I'm in anyway. What do you want us to do?"

"Protect the people. They'll be no match for the security forces otherwise."

Eric nodded slowly. "Sure. We can do that." He turned to leave.

"One more thing," David said. Eric raised an eyebrow as a question. "The protest symbol is a white feather. Spray paint it around the place."

"Ok. Just a feather?"

"Nothing else."

He came back to David and clasped his arm. "Stay safe man."

"You too."

The big man clapped John on the arm and lumbered off with the slight sound of whirring servos.

David and John hopped back into the van, and David pulled out one of the small boxes. Inside were four small, metallic objects.

"What are they?" John asked.

"Holographic projectors. They change your features so the cameras can't track you. It detects your own features and changes them just enough so the face recognition software doesn't work. Kind of a digital mask." He placed one of the objects against his forehead and triggered it. The device extended and encircled his head like a band. Then the band produced a holograph that still looked like him but was subtly different.

"Nice. I'll have one of those." He picked one up and placed it against his forehead. "Back to the Hive?"

"Yeah." They drove carefully, not wanting to draw attention to themselves or risk being stopped. The police presence in the city was heavy. They seemed to pass police vehicles at every major intersection. Drones passed overhead scanning the roads. In the poorer sections of the city, the presence became heavier and they saw occasional gangs of youths baiting the police. They turned into the road that lead to the Hive and saw an APC sitting on the side of the road. The security forces were also out.

Once they arrived back at the Hive they went quickly back up to Peter and Rebekah's apartment. Peter was sitting in a chair, eyes closed. Rebekah was seated at her desk, staring at a holographic screen. She turned at their entrance.

"How did it go..." her words trailed off as she looked closely at their faces. "That is good. Subtle."

"The warehouse has been searched. No surprises there. We got the stuff and got out safely. Lots of police on the street."

"Yeah, Peter's co-ordinating the evac of the Hive. We have small groups going out in random directions to avoid making it too obvious. They're watching us and we're watching them. We'll know if they move. And we know about the APC."

"Not much gets by you guys."

"Hopefully not. I'm putting a few last touches to my editorial. Half the paper's going to be on the bombings, so I'm just touching up the wording here and there. The Government's not going to be that happy with the coverage, but too bad."

"Any progress with the other things?" David asked.

"Peter will tell you. I'm staying out of it."

Peter's eyes flicked open.

David wasn't sure if he had been listening to the conversation or whether he was reacting to some hidden message from Rebekah.

"David, John," he stopped. "Nice. Holographic projectors. Slightly illegal, aren't they?" David just raised an eyebrow.

"You guys got a beer?" John asked.

"Fridge," said Rebekah, not taking her eyes from the glowing text in front of her.

"David? Peter?"

"No thanks," they both replied.

"I've been contacted by a hacker group. Just tentative at this stage but looks hopeful. I'll let you know when I have something firmed up.

"Ok, good." David nodded. "That's great news."

**

Luke and Maria sat in a car on the edge of a small, shabby park in one of the poor suburbs of town. The park was just a scrubby piece of ground with patchy grass surrounded by an iron fence. It was slightly raised above road level and had some battered children's play equipment in one corner. They each cradled a cup of coffee, the remains of a takeaway lunch spread out beside them. They were facing a group of old, disused, brick buildings that at one time must have been used for warehousing.

"What are we waiting for?" Maria asked. They had come to visit one of the eco-activist groups in the city led by a woman called Mary.

"The group won't start arriving until the early afternoon."

"How do you know they'll even come?"

"I used to be part of the group. Otherwise we wouldn't have a show of being heard."

"Why didn't we come later when they're all there? We look a bit obvious sitting here."

"They know we're here already. I wanted us to be obvious. No surprises."

"What about the cameras? The police could see you."

"You don't need to worry about that." He turned to her. "You grew up in in a fairly sheltered environment, lived in a good part of town, didn't you?" It was a statement rather than a question.

"Yeah. I guess so. Middle class. My dad had a job, so we were ok. He was middle management at a solar panel installation company."

"Where are they now?"

"My mother left when I was 10. Ran off with someone else. Never saw her again. Dad died a few years ago from cancer."

"That's tough. So, you're on your own?"

She nodded "How did you know my background?" she asked.

"If you came from around here, you'd know there are no cameras in this part of town," he laughed. "None that work anyway. Most of the cops stay away from here if they can. They aren't exactly welcome. The drones on the other hand, are pretty much overhead all the time, but they can't see through car roofs."

"Do you live around here?" she asked.

"Yeah. Well I used to for a long time, but not anymore. I help run a youth centre a couple of blocks away. Somewhere for the kids to go that's not on the streets. We help their parents keep them away from drugs and the street gangs. They're tough kids from tough families but they're still just kids. They're not bad."

What about you?" she asked. "What did your parents do?"

He looked at her oddly. "I haven't seen my parents in a long time." Something in his tone made her think that this was something he didn't want to talk about.

"Ok, that's a shame. So, you're on your own as well?"

"Yeah. Well, I don't have close family but I don't see myself as being on my own. David kind of looks out for me. Even when I don't need him to," he joked. "Ok here we go." A young man about Maria's age wearing scruffy clothes and a bright red mohawk slouched into the disused building. A few minutes later, a short older woman and a heavy-set man walked in. Then Maria just about jumped out of her skin as there was a bang on the side of the car. Luke barely flinched. He let the window down and looked out.

"Hey Joe," he said to the man standing by the car. Maria hadn't even seen him approach. Joe was in his late twenties, big and burly, with dark skin and a mass of dreadlocks tied up down his back. His hand and neck were heavily tattooed with curving Polynesian designs. He was wearing loose fitting, green and brown clothes that were well worn but clean.

"What are you doing here Luke?"

"I've come to see Mary."

"You're a dangerous man to be around at the moment."

"Yeah I know. You know me man, we've done some crazy stuff together, some good stuff, like at the Port that time."

Joe smiled briefly at the memory, but then his features clouded over. "A lot of people died last night. The police and the security services are everywhere, hunting for you; questioning everyone. They even have soldiers on the streets. You shouldn't have come."

"Let me talk to Mary and the others. I'll explain. Then you can decide for yourselves." Joe looked around as if searching for answers in the surrounding streets.

"Ok. What about her?" He looked at Maria.

"She's ok. I'll vouch for her."

"Ok." He led them into the building, carefully checking the street before they entered. The building was full of rubbish piled up haphazardly and smelt of old chemicals. Joe led them through the maze to a back room and then down a corridor to the back of the building. In the very back room, a small fire was burning in an old drum, and sleeping mats were scattered around by the walls. A group of eight people sat around, talking quietly. The conversation ceased immediately as they entered the room, and eight pairs of eyes questioned them as they walked closer.

The short, older woman they had seen enter, stood up and came over to Luke and threw her arms around him. She barely came up to his chin. She would have been in her early fifties with greying, shoulder length hair and an open, smiling face. Her almond eyes twinkled with happiness.

"It's been far too long Luke." She gave him another hug. Maria couldn't help noticing the soft gentle smile on Luke's face as he hugged her back.

"Hi Mary. Yeah far too long. It's good to see you." He turned to Maria. "This is my friend Maria. She's ok."

"Hello. Any friend of Luke's is a friend of ours." She came over and gave her a hug.

She turned back to Luke. "You're in a bit of trouble."

"We had nothing to do with those bombings. Not my style."

She looked him in the eyes for a moment. "I never thought you did. The Government has a way of distorting the truth and looking for someone to blame. Anyone will do, as long as the Government appear to be acting decisively. To be in control."

A skinny, slightly weasely looking man with a thin, straggly, brown goatee broke in. "He shouldn't be here. He's putting us all at risk. If they find him, they'll think we had something to do with the bombings. He needs to leave." There was murmuring from the other members of the group.

"Don't fret, Georgie. I'll say my piece and then we'll be gone. We don't mean you any trouble," Luke said in a conciliatory tone.

"We can't help you. We'll be accomplices." He broke in again. It was almost a bark. Maria detected fear, almost panic in his voice.

"Just give me a chance. I want to give you some information, tell you what's going on. Then you make up your own mind."

Georgie started to speak again, but Mary cut him off. "Enough Georgie. We all know Luke. We know what he's like. We know his values. He was one of us for many years. We'll hear him out." She signalled for everyone to sit around the fire. Maria went to the far side as she and Luke had discussed, so that they could watch everyone. She sat next to a young girl with close-cropped hair, and a tattoo of yellow flowers up one leg.

Luke looked down at the fire for a moment. "You all know me; you've known me for years. We've been in many protests together. Challenged the Government over their destruction of the environment. Believe me when I tell you that I was not involved in those bombings. I would never kill innocent people. My friends and I have been framed by the Government."

"Why would they do that?" Georgie interrupted again and incurred an angry look from Mary. Luke touched her arm.

"Because they want a scapegoat. I believe that they carried out those bombing themselves."

The whole group erupted in protest.

"I know how that sounds."

"It sounds crazy," the girl next to Maria spoke.

"Sure, but look at what has been happening of late. The protests over power outages, food shortages, poverty, inequality. How have they been met? With more and more violence. You don't get arrested these days and charged, you get shot at." They all murmured in agreement. "The Prime Minister or someone close to him ordered those bombings and blamed us just so they could bring in martial law. This is a takeover. This is an excuse to strip everyone of their rights and impose a police state."

"What evidence do you have?" Mary spoke up. Her tone was calm and questioning rather than challenging.

"None at the moment. All I can tell you, is that I didn't have any part in those bombings and neither did my friends. We are scapegoats. We're excuses. The bombings happened and everything swung into action just as they planned." Mary stared into the fire, lost in thought.

Maria saw movement at the door. A man walked in and looked about the room. He must have been known to the group, as he had come past the sentries. A few members glanced up but took no notice. Maria looked at him in shock. He caught her looking and stared back. The red and black aura was unmistakable.

"I need to tell you what's happening," Luke said.

The new man at the door couldn't see Luke's face, as his back was towards him, but at the sound of his voice the man at the door stiffened. He must have recognised the voice.

"No!" she said quickly. "Red and black." Luke glanced up, momentarily confused. She nodded at the man at the door. Luke turned around and saw him. The man looked at him for a split second and then ran.

"Shit!" Luke spat out.

"What?" Mary asked concerned.

"You've been infiltrated. Whoever that was, he's spying on you."

"No," said the girl next to Maria.

"Yes." Maria said more forcefully than she intended, looking straight at the girl "Stay away from him. He'll hurt you."

Mary pulled out her phone and quickly dialled, calling the sentries. "Damn, he's gone."

"We need to leave now," Luke said. "Get out."

The group immediately ran for the doors. They were used to reacting quickly. Luke took Mary's arm. "The fourteenth. We're organising a mass protest. We're going to bring the city to a stop. Civil disobedience. No violence. We don't want to provoke them. Bring the people out on the streets. If people won't march, get them to stay home. We're going to use the White Wing, their creation, against them. The white feather is the symbol. Can you spread the word?"

Mary nodded, "Of course."

"Sorry," Luke said apologetically.

"Don't worry about us. Take care of yourself. Go! Hurry," she said.

Luke grabbed Maria's arm and they fled down one of the passages. Luke clearly knew where he was going. They burst through a door into a narrow alley. Luke dragged her right. They ran as fast as they could to a gate, and Luke shoved it open. They crossed a yard and ran into another derelict building. In the distance, they could hear sirens.

"Where are we going?"

"We need to get as far away as we can. We need to stay off the streets as they'll have drones up looking for us."

The building they were in was huge. Derelict machinery stood on both sides. They sprinted through it, dodging around the debris. They were two thirds of the way through when someone ran from behind a machine, crashing headlong into Luke. It was the man from the meeting. He must have guessed their escape route and lain in wait for them. They both went sprawling onto the floor. The man held a long knife in one hand. He jumped onto Luke, trying to stab him, but Luke had grasped his knife hand, and with a heave of his body, threw him off. Both men leapt to their feet, circling warily. Blood was dripping from Luke's arm. The man jabbed and Luke dodged to the side. He stabbed again, leading with the knife, but it was a feint. He pulled back the thrust and shoulder charged Luke. Both men went down again. The man leapt on top of Luke again, aiming the knife at Luke's face. Luke stopped the thrust, just inches from his eye. The man pressed down with all his weight, a murderous gleam in his eye.

Maria looked around and saw a length of pipe. She grabbed it, took two steps toward the struggling men and swung as hard as she could. The blow struck the man on the shoulder and with a cry of pain, he was thrown off Luke. He rolled quickly back to his feet glaring at Maria. Luke leapt up and faced him. The man stepped forward and aimed a long slashing blow at Luke's stomach. Luke blurred into motion, blocking the thrust, then battering him with a series of blows that staggered the man. They separated, circling again. The man charged, thrusting forward with the knife. Luke blocked it easily and planted a forearm into the man's throat. He was incredibly fast. The man went down, clutching his throat. Luke kicked him in the side of the head and he stopped moving. This was no time for finesse.

"Let's go!" They sprinted hard until they came to a small office. Luke pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a door. It led out onto a busy street. He looked both ways, pulled up his hood then led Maria out onto the street, careful to lock the door behind him. Maria wanted to run, but Luke sauntered down the road, looking in shop windows as if he didn't have a care in the world - only the tight grip on her hand betrayed his tension. He turned into an amusement arcade. Pods lined either side, some filled with people their heads and bodies encased in VR gear. They hurried on through to another road, this one busier still. A drone buzzed overhead and Luke turned away to look at a window. He led Maria through a maze of streets, taking her quickly away from the meeting place, keeping to overhead cover where-ever he could. They reached a market and Luke slowed. His grip on her hand slackened. "We'll go to the far side and catch a tuk-tuk. You do the talking. We'll head to Diamond Park. First I need a jacket."

"A jacket?"

"Yeah, to cover the blood." She glanced down at his arm, which was now covered in blood. In the panic, she had forgotten he'd been stabbed. Drops of bright red blood dripped from his fingers and splattered on the ground. They found a quiet corner and he rolled up his sleeve. A long shallow cut ran diagonally across his forearm. He ripped the shirt and bound it as best he could while Maria managed to find a cheap, black jacket.

"That needs a doctor," she said as she returned. She could see the pain in his face.

"Yeah, well, we don't have time for that. We need to leave."

They got up and started to walk to the far side of the market. Maria caught sight of a blue uniform through the crowd.

"Oh no, police."

"Just try to relax and don't look at them. We'll check out a stall before we get to them and let them pass. Put your arm around me."

"What?"

"Make it look like we're a couple. I can put my arm behind you. They aren't looking for you, so you stand between them and me."

"Oh, ok," she put her arm around his waist, and he put his injured arm over her shoulder. They walked forward, toward the police patrol. There were two officers and they were checking the crowd carefully. When they were about 20 metres away, Luke swung toward a stall selling small, religious items. They were mostly carved from soft stone, or cast from cheap, recycled metal. The stall owner was clearly not religious as the items were from an eclectic mix of faiths, some of which Maria didn't even recognise. They made a show of perusing the wares carefully, responding politely and quietly to the enthusiastic sales pitch of the owner. Maria could almost feel the presence of the patrol behind her. She knew they must have been very close.

Shouting erupted from further down in the market, back from where they had come. Some dispute between a stallholder and a dissatisfied customer. Involuntarily she looked around. The police were right behind them. One of the officers looked at her briefly, but then a particularly loud shout caused them both to hurry off toward the disturbance.

Luke pulled her away. "Time to go." They moved as quickly as they dared through the market. It seemed to take them an eternity to reach the far side. As they reached the street, another patrol was coming down the road. Maria hailed a tuk-tuk and they piled in. She made sure she was on the side closest to the patrol.

"Diamond Park," Maria said, and the driver pulled out into the traffic, narrowly missing an old man on a bicycle who cursed them loudly. They roared off down the street.

13: Evidence

It was nearly dark by the time they arrived back at the Hive. The others were already there.

David was waiting for them at the downstairs doors. Maria waved to him urgently and he ran out to meet them. "Are you both ok?" There was real concern in his voice.

"No, Luke's hurt. He needs a doctor. His arm's been cut and he's lost a lot of blood."

"I'm fine. Need a couple of stitches though." David pulled up his sleeve gently and looked at the gash in his arm.

"You'll live, but that needs cleaning up and you might need more than a couple of stitches. Come on."

They went upstairs through the strangely quiet Hive. David held off asking for any details until they were in the apartment.

"Rebekah, we need some help. Luke's been hurt. Can you get a doctor?" he said as they entered.

They settled Luke into a chair in the kitchen and peeled off the jacket. His arm was red with blood, and the makeshift bandage was soaked. A twelve centimetre slash cut across his arm.

Rebekah took one look at it and then paused for a moment before answering. "We don't have a doctor anymore, but I've got a paramedic coming up.

"Are you up to telling us what happened?" David asked.

"The group's been infiltrated by one of Ballock's men. It was just as well that Maria was with me. She spotted him and warned us. I think everyone got out." He turned to Maria. "Sorry, I should have thanked you for that."

"Anyway, he must have figured out which of the escape routes we'd use to get out. He was waiting for us. I didn't see him until it was too late and he got me with the knife. Could have gone badly, but Maria hit him with a steel pipe." They all turned to look at Maria who started to blush.

"A pipe, huh." David said.

"He was fighting Luke and I hit him from behind," she said almost apologetically.

David gave a chuckle "Good for you."

"Did you have time to talk to Mary?"

"Yeah. She'll spread the word to the other groups." Luke looked carefully at David's face. "What's wrong with your face?"

"It's a holograph. I have one for you too." He went out of the room and came back with the little silver holo-projector and showed Luke how to use it.

"Could have used that today. The patrols were everywhere. We were lucky. How did it go with you?"

"Straightforward, but my warehouse is a bit of a wreck. Probably even worse now, but we got some weapons and the holo-projectors. I also spoke to Eric and he's going to make contact with the Augs. The Police will deploy in force. The Augs muscle will provide some protection for the public."

There was a knock at the door. A man carrying a doctor's bag stuck his head into the room.

"Let's give the medic some room," David said.

**

Maria was sitting on the bed, thinking over the day's events. The fight in the old warehouse kept running through her mind like a loop. She was in a room she had been given, down the hall from Peter and Rebekah's apartment. Now the Hive had been vacated, there were plenty of spare rooms. That the last occupant had left in a hurry was clear. Most of his belongings were still there. She'd stacked them in a couple of boxes to keep them out of the way. There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Come in," she called. The door opened and David stuck his head in. "Dinner will be ready soon. How are you holding up?"

"Ok I guess. I was a waitress a couple of days ago and now I'm running around with wanted terrorists hiding from the police and hitting people with pipes. It's taking a bit of adjustment."

He stepped inside the room and smiled. "Well, you seem to be adjusting quite well to your new role, Luke said you did really well today. He was lucky to have you there."

"He did amazingly well, with that cut on his arm. I'd have been a mess."

"Oh, I don't know. I think you're a lot tougher than you think. Thank you. Anyway, dinner is in five minutes."

"Ok. Before you go...", she said. He turned around in the door, the question showing in his face. "The breakfast this morning, what was that all about?"

"Oh. Everyone who's in the Hive in the morning is expected at breakfast. They also feed anyone else who turns up. They don't have to be jackers. A lot of the homeless or people with mental health issues come in for food or just companionship."

"That's really nice. But why?"

"The jackers coming together to share a meal is a ritual. It bonds them together. Group fusion, I think Rebekah calls it. I suspect it's just to make sure they unplug for a while and join the real world. As for feeding all the others, I don't know. Maybe the Hive people are just nice." He smiled.

"Ok. Be there in a minute," she said.

Dinner was a huge plate of homemade spaghetti with tomato and herb sauce. Everyone ate heartily, but the mood was sombre; the discussion quiet. After dinner, they settled down with cups of coffee, and Rebekah put on some soft jazz in the background. Luke was dropping off to sleep in the chair, the stress and blood loss finally catching up with him. Rebekah went over to him and shook him gently, ordering him to bed. She had quickly become the mother of the little group of fugitives. Peter's phone buzzed. He checked the number and then placed it into a cradle that encrypted the call and projected a display on the TV. Gabe's face appeared; he looked strained and pale.

"Gabe, I think you need to be a little careful about calling here. I've encrypted the call," Peter said.

"It's important. I don't have much time. Is David with you?"

"Yeah, I'm here Gabe."

"Good. David, I don't know what you're planning, but whatever it is, it's about to get a lot harder. There was a huge protest in the western suburbs. A kid's been shot by the Police. Some dumb, over-zealous shithead killed him on Main Street. The place has gone ballistic. The Prime Minister's called in the army. They're deploying on the streets as we speak. He's going to declare martial law. My position here is looking pretty difficult too, and if they find out what I've done, they'll lock me up and throw away the key. Ballock is strengthening his control over the police. I'm going to vanish for a while. But I have something for you: I got hold of all the raw video footage I could from around the murder scene at the old University and from the bombings. I grabbed it before Ballock's men took it. I've had a bit of a look through, and there are some parts you might find interesting. I'll upload them to Peter's system as an encrypted file. I'm sure you'll have access to someone who can analyse them. Have to go." The video ended.

"That's going to make your plan for a march impossible," John spoke up.

"Harder, but not impossible. The more they repress the people; the more they are going to react. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. It applies as much to people as it does to physics."

"Not sure about that," Rebekah retorted. "People are a lot more complex than simple inanimate objects."

"Sure, individually; but in groups, I'm not so sure. Let's have a look at the University video first."

The files that Gabe had sent were a mix of security camera footage from both the University and the surrounding area. They played each of them back at half speed, especially the two that Gabe had marked. The first showed a man getting out of a truck on the main street, walking down the road, into the University grounds, and then coming back out with a long wooden post. The resolution was poor, and the man was impossible to identify. The second was from a camera that was not directly pointed at the centre of the grounds. The same man was seen in one corner walking in and out of the field of view. The images were fleeting and poor resolution. Then toward the end of it, there were just a few frames where the man seemed to be dragging something or someone, and in the process, he turned momentarily to face the camera.

"Shit." Peter exclaimed. "That's Marco." He played it over and over slowly. "It is."

"No. Maybe? I can't be sure," David replied.

Peter turned to him. "I have someone who can help us with this. She's a genius at photo-enhancement."

"Yes," exclaimed Rebekah. "Sara can clean all this up for us."

"Do it," David said. "If we can identify the killer, then maybe we can use it. Let's try the train video."

They all watched in horror as the explosion ripped out the supports on the overpass and the train plunged into the darkness. There was even video from inside the train compartment, one moment the passengers were just bored commuters watching screens or dozing in the seats, the next they were screaming with terror as the train fell from beneath them.

"Oh, my god." Rebekah had her hands to her face and tears running down her face. "I can't watch that." Peter went over and gave her a hug and then ushered her out of the room. They played all the video footage, but none of it was from under the train, so there was nothing showing who may have planted the bomb. Gabe hadn't marked anything, so maybe he hadn't seen anything either. Peter came back in.

"How's Rebekah?" David asked.

Peter shrugged. "She sees a lot of nasty stuff in her job, but the police don't usually let go of the raw video like that. She's pretty upset. That was pretty grim stuff. Poor people."

They moved on to the mall bombing files. There was a lot more video, as would be expected from such a high traffic area. Gabe had highlighted one particular video and they watched it through, but could see nothing untoward. It was from the camera focussed on the front door of the mall. There were hours of video, so Peter played it on fast forward to the end.

"Play it again. Gabe must have seen something in all of this," David said. They watched it over and over, getting increasingly tired and disillusioned. All it seemed to show was vehicles and people coming and going from the car park. It was like watching the tide flow in and out over a beach.

"Dammit Gabe, couldn't you have given us a bit more of a clue. What are we missing?" David muttered.

Maria could sense him becoming frustrated. Then she focussed not on the people coming and going from the entrance but on the edge of the video. A white security firm van pulled up next to a side entrance, a small armoured door in the wall. It sat there for a long time, then drove away. It just looked like a routine pick up by a security firm.

"Where was the bomb detonated?" she asked.

"Hold on," said Peter. "In a small service cupboard in a corridor next to the food hall. The corridor led to the public toilets."

"Can you give us a schematic?" asked David.

"No problem." A building schematic appeared in a new window on the screen a few seconds later. Peter walked to the screen and used finger gesturers to expand portions of the mall layout until he located the service cupboard. "There," he said. He turned to Maria, a question showing on his face. She walked up to the screen and pointed to the van and the door.

"And where is that?"

Peter manipulated the plan again. "Clever girl. That is the external entrance at the rear of the corridor."

"Does anyone come out of that van or go into it?" she asked.

"Let's see. If we go forward, we'll see the people coming out, so we'll see their faces." He fast forwarded the video until the door opened, and two men came out. The image was small.

"Wait," said Peter. He zoomed in on the section of the image. "This video is better quality than the one at the university." Two men came out of the door. They were wearing common, beige security guard uniforms. One was shorter with dark hair and was limping slightly, the other was blond. "Damn, you know who that looks like." He zoomed in and out, trying to get a clearer shot. "That's Marco and Sven."

"It's not clear enough to be certain, but I think you're right," David said. "That's interesting. Why would Ballock use someone so close to him?"

"Because he doesn't trust anyone. He would want someone who's totally loyal to him to do that kind of job. That's damn useful." Peter turned to him. "We can put this all over the net. Clear your names."

"Sure, but not just yet." He was still thinking. "Maybe that means the Prime Minister is being played here. He's being influenced, but he isn't actually in on the plot."

"Doesn't matter. We have to take him down as well. He's the one with the power, Ballock is pulling his strings," Rebekah put in. They turned to see her standing at the door.

"You ok?" Peter asked.

"I'm ok," she replied. She certainly didn't sound ok and Peter went over and put his arm around her.

"When is your editorial going out?" David asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Day after tomorrow. In the morning edition," she replied.

"We'll need to vacate tomorrow then. Once that's published, they'll be watching you." She nodded.

David turned to Peter. "Get all this to your lady. We want the best quality images she can give us. We're going to go bigger than leaking it on the net, but I want to meet with the hacker cell, and for Rebekah's editorial to come out first."

"I'm going to hit the sack. Nice work you guys."

14: Jail Break

Paulo sat slumped in a battered old armchair in the little flat. He was reading a screen while a saucepan of beans bubbled on the stove behind him. The flat was really just two rooms, a bathroom and a living area. It was infested with cockroaches, and when he turned off the light at night he could hear the scraping of tiny feet as his resident mice attacked his food. He went and stirred the beans, then poured them out into a worn, metal bowl. He had fled Bik's house in the middle of the night and had managed to avoid the patrols and get to his bolt hole in the slum. Since then he hadn't dared to go out, so had resorted to getting one of the young boys across the hall to buy his food for him.

He sat back down at the table and picked up the screen. He heard a scraping sound on the stairway and paused for a moment to listen. The sound wasn't repeated, so he resumed eating. Suddenly, the door flew in with a crash under the impact of a ram, and black clad men swarmed in. He surged to his feet scattering beans everywhere. There was a crash of glass and another assailant swung into the room. They were coming through the windows at him! He launched himself into the group coming through the doorway. He hit one man, who went down, and then punched another in the throat. He sensed someone behind him and brought his left elbow back into the man's face. He was hit from behind in a crash tackle and went down. He fought hard trying to get back to his feet but was pinned down and his hands forced behind his back. "Get off me you bastards!" he yelled. They clearly weren't trying to kill him, or he'd be dead by now. A man came to stand by his head as he struggled. His chest exploded in pain as he got a kick in his ribs, then another. The last thing he saw as he lay there gasping for breath was a big, black boot coming down on his face.

**

Gabe finished off his report and closed down the screen of his computer. The files he had sent to Peter had uploaded successfully, so he had phoned the Hive and then deleted them from his drive. Hopefully, Peter could do something with them. He rubbed his face, trying to scrub away the fatigue. His eyes felt like they had sand in them. The riot in the western suburbs had thrown the precinct into total chaos and he had worked for the whole night on Isaac's murder as well as helping deal with the rioters. Van loads of rioters were being brought in for processing at a time. Most of them were just being thrown into the holding cells for the night, there were too many to deal with them all properly. He pulled out his chair and said goodnight to everyone. He wanted everything to appear normal. They didn't need to know that this was the last time they would see him. Sooner or later, someone would notice that he had copied the video footage, especially as the PM's office had now taken over the investigation. As he was about to leave, Johnson came up to him.

"Captain wants to see you in his office before you head off."

"Ok. What about?"

"Don't know." Johnson shrugged his shoulders and slouched off.

He walked down the corridor and cautiously peered around the corner. Two men wearing dark suits were standing in the office, and they appeared to be arguing with the Captain.

"Shit," he muttered. That didn't look good, so he backed up and headed down the stairs past the interview rooms, careful to make sure that Johnson didn't see him. As he passed the last one, a dark suited man came out of it that Gabe didn't know. That was odd, and he glanced in as the door closed. Paulo sat in the room chained to a table. It looked like he'd taken a hell of a beating. His face was swollen and bloody. The man coming out gave him a hard stare. Gabe just stared back until the man dropped his eyes, shut the door, and walked up the stairs to the next level. Gabe hesitated for a moment and then opened the door and slipped inside. Paulo looked up.

"What are you doing here?" The words weren't formed properly because of the swelling. Blood and saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up." He pulled out his keys and released the restraints. He pulled Paulo to his feet. "Keep quiet and let me do the talking. You're my prisoner." He slapped handcuffs on him and marched him out the door. They went downstairs past the uniformed section and down again to the main level. The place was a zoo, with people everywhere. Battered looking rioters struggled with uniformed cops or sat sullenly on benches in restraints. A couple of Augs stood against a wall being guarded by a cop with a shotgun. The desk sergeant looked up at him as he approached the gate. He looked harried and tired. That was good for them.

"Transporting, this one out to Newton Street. The cells are bursting at the seams." The sergeant raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Sure. Yeah. We're going to have to start stacking them one on top of the other before long." He gave a brief bark of a laugh. "Peters has taken a couple up there already." He opened the door and Gabe hustled Paulo down to the basement and to his car.

"You're going to get yourself into the shit," Paulo said. "That was some guy from the Prime Minister's security detail questioning me."

"Already in the shit." Gabe smiled at him. "This is part of my escape plan. Not going to get any worse." He took off the handcuffs and helped Paulo into his car.

He pulled out and drove to the security gate at the entrance, which started to rise slowly. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the three suits burst out of the door. They started running toward the car. The gate rose slowly. "Fuck it." He gunned the car and slammed it forward. The gate hit the roof of the car with a screech of metal, and then they were out. Gabe powered out into the evening traffic swerving wildly to avoid another car and a stream of bicycles and scooters. He hurtled down the street as fast as he could.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror. "They'll have someone behind us in minutes. Drones as well." He turned off down a side street and then flew across another main road, traffic swerving to avoid him. He hit the back alleys and accelerated as hard as he could, clipping bins and rubbish as he passed. People dodged out of the way screaming abuse at him. He focussed hard on the road, trying to concentrate on where he was going. They'd only been driving a few minutes when tracer fire pounded into the street in front of them. Paulo stuck his head out the window. "Drone."

"Get in!" He pulled Paulo back into the car just as they passed a metal skip with only millimetres to spare. Gabe turned right and then left, but the drone stuck with them. It would nail them soon. Then he had an idea. He turned back onto a busy street and then hard right and down a ramp into an underground parking area.

"What are we doing?" Paulo asked.

He drove quickly into the gloom at the back of the building and screeched to a halt just in front of the back wall. "Out!" Gabe ordered. He jumped out and started to run back toward the entrance. "This way." He took a few steps and realised Paulo was struggling. He was holding his ribs and limping forward. He went back and threw an arm around him, pulling him along as quickly as he could. They went to one side of the door and hid just inside the entrance behind the wall. They had barely got there when the drone dropped down and hovered just outside. It had a big bulbous nose and a short, stubby body beneath its four fans. Two wings angled down carrying machine-guns and missile pods. The camera set in its nose moved back and forth searching for movement. Gabe realised that the large camera could see into the darkness of the car park basement as if it was broad daylight. The drone came right to the edge of the doorway, but whoever was operating it wasn't game to come inside in case it was a trap. The operator was right to be wary. As Gabe was well aware, underground car parks also often caused operators to lose their signal, and the drone could easily crash in the enclosed space. Gabe was counting on that uncertainty and the caution of the operator, but he drew his gun anyway. He hoped that they would want to finish this quickly. "Down against the wall," he whispered. They both lay flat in the shadows and covered their heads. A missile flashed down the ramp and streaked across the car park. Gabe's car exploded in a ball of flame, and metal and debris rained down on them. The drone floated right up to the entrance, its nose poking inside. It was just metres from them. Gabe pointed his weapon straight at it, ready to fire. It hovered there, watching for over a minute, then pulled back into the street to cover the entrance and watch for survivors while the vehicle burned. He hauled Paulo to his feet. There was a set of metal stairs in the corner. They hurried to them and went up a couple of levels. Paulo's breathing was ragged, but he kept going. Gabe went to the front of the building and glanced over the edge of the outside wall. He could see the drone below them floating just outside the entrance like some massive mechanical insect. They continued up to the roof-top. It was dark now and there was a risk that the police had called in another drone or foot patrol. They needed to get off the exposed roof as quickly as possible. They went to the edge of the car park. The adjacent building was only a metre away and slightly lower. This was a bit risky with Paulo's injuries, but they had little choice. Gabe hopped across and waited while Paulo climbed over the barrier and jumped clumsily across, landing heavily, with a cry of pain.

"It's ok," Gabe said "Nearly there. Keep going." Paulo just nodded, unable to speak. They hurried across the roof, past the slowly rotating vertical cylinder of a wind turbine, to the fire escape at the far side of the building. Gabe had known it was there because he had chased a drug dealer up here a couple of weeks ago. The escape route hadn't worked for the dealer, but he hoped they would have better luck. They clambered down the escape as fast as they could and dropped onto the street below. "Pull your hood up," he said to Paulo. He pulled a cap out of his pocket and pulled it down on his head, then they walked slowly down the street and hailed a tuk-tuk. In the distance, he heard sirens racing closer.

He turned to Paulo as they drove along. "What happened?"

Paulo shrugged. His breathing was getting worse and there were traces of blood at the corners of his mouth

"They found me a couple of hours ago. I have a little place out west, in the slum. Someone must have told the police. I suspect it was the little shit I was paying to get me food. I'm sitting, having some beans, and the next thing I know there's fucking military storming the flat. Shit, they even came in through the windows. I got in a few good blows, took a few of them out, but I didn't have a chance. They beat the crap out of me and hauled me down the station where the guy in the suit was waiting. All they asked me about was what I knew about David and John. Where they were, what their plans were."

Gabe just nodded. "How are feeling? You don't look too good."

"Couple of broken ribs at least, and I ain't so pretty any more. Might need to go see my dentist." He grinned exposing a missing tooth. "I'll be ok. They weren't trying to do me too much damage." He laughed a little and then started coughing, a wet, broken sound. "I think they had orders to bring me in for questioning, so they were gentle." Paolo leant back into the seat trying to relax against the bumping and vibration of the little cab.

Gabe just grunted. If that was gentle, he'd hate to see rough. He had to get Paulo to a doctor quickly, but first they had to get out of the area.

15: ChaosPlague - July 10

The day dawned grey and overcast. A light breeze blew out of the west. Maria struggled out of bed and turned on the shower in the bathroom. Things were moving far faster than she was able to absorb. Life had turned into a dangerous blur. She stood under the warm water and luxuriated in the feel of it on her skin. A shower always seemed to wake her up and make her feel good.

She was out of the shower and getting dry when there was a light knock at the door. "Come in," she called. "I'll be there in a second."

"Just me," Rebekah called out. "I found some clothes for you."

"I don't think I'll fit them," Maria laughed. "I'm a bit bigger than you."

"It's ok, they're not mine. One of the other girls. I think they'll fit. She left a while ago, and I doubt she'll be back. They're a bit basic. She was limited to jeans and T-shirts. But they're ok, and I washed them for you."

Maria wrapped a towel around herself and walked out of the bathroom. "Thank you. That's really nice, or was I starting to smell?" she joked.

Rebekah laughed. "No. It's just nice to have something different to wear, and a Chinese silk dress seems to be your only other option.

"Anything happening?" Maria asked.

"Oh yeah, lots. I've been up for hours, working with the coverage on the news of the riot. Hundreds of people on the streets. Lots of injuries, one poor young kid dead. Shops burned and looted. It's quiet now. I hope there won't be a repeat tonight."

"Can you see David's plan working?" Maria asked.

"To be honest, I really don't know. It's a powder keg out there. If the march gets going, I don't know whether he will be able to stop it getting out of hand. I guess it depends a little on how the Prime Minister reacts. If he meets it with force, then it could explode." She paused for a moment looking thoughtful. "I've covered lots of marches and riots. When you pit unarmed, disorganised civilians against trained riot police with guns, there tends to be only one outcome." She looked glum.

Maria sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at her hands. "That's what I'm worried about. He seems to be trying to avoid a war, and yet this could be the thing that triggers it."

"What David's planning is more than just a march remember. If it was just that, I don't think he'd have a hope of carrying it off. The Government have learned by experience how to deal with protests. The PM would just smash it, like all the others. The rest of the plan is the key; it'll throw the government into chaos. If they think they've lost control of the city, and if the people think they have it, then maybe..."

Maria looked up, her face full of hope. "Do you think?"

"David's no fool. He's very good at strategic thinking. He's seen a lot, done a lot too I guess, so maybe he can do this. I hope for everyone's sake he can."

Maria was quiet for a moment. Rebekah sensed there was more and just stood there waiting "Can I ask you something?" Maria said.

Rebekah looked at her and smiled. "Sure."

"The other day... Wow, it really was just the other day. So much has happened, my head's still spinning... Someone called him 'old man'. It was just the way it was said, almost as if they meant it literally, and just now you said he'd done a lot."

Rebekah looked at her carefully, as if measuring her somehow. "What do you know about him?"

"Not much, we only met a couple of days ago."

"Yeah. I heard about Sven attacking you."

"David saved me, took me to his home and we've been running ever since. He seems kind and gentle and thoughtful, but kind of sad. He obviously can fight really well but he doesn't seem to want to. I can see everyone looks up to him; and I know he has a business selling arts, antiques and stuff." She stopped. "Yeah that's about it, well apart from the not being human part I guess."

"Yeah, that last bit's quite important. I know you can see them, the auras. I can't. What's it like?"

"People like you and me have very faint auras of all sorts of colours but mostly pretty murky and confused. They change with how we're feeling, so they seem to be tied to our emotions. The hybrids have a red one if they're ok and a red and black one if they aren't. It's clear and strong and easy to see. Like they glow with light. Have you ever seen one of those pictures of the Sun from space and you see the rays coming out of it?" Rebekah nodded. "It's like that, and it moves and flares. David and John are totally different though. It's like they're on fire. It's so bright, especially when David's angry, that I almost want to shade my eyes. And they have these huge flares at the back that look like, well, they look like wings."

"Wow. That's cool. I wish I could see them. Look, in answer to your question, you should really ask David, but I know he can be a bit reserved sometimes, well, all the time, so it's not easy. He doesn't like to talk about his history. I've known him quite a while and I know almost nothing of it. What I do know is that he is very old. He doesn't seem to age; he's always looked the same."

"He looks about thirty."

"Yeah, but he's not. Not even close. He's thousands of years old."

Maria's jaw dropped with astonishment. "No, that's not possible!"

Rebekah just shrugged her shoulders. "I've seen pictures of him that are hundreds of years old, and he looks exactly the same. Anyway, you should ask him."

"Can I ask you something else?" Maria said.  
"I guess," Rebekah said, laughing. "Curious soul, aren't you. About David?"

"No, about you and Peter. Sorry, there seems to be a lot I don't know."

"Oh. Ok. Depends what it is, I suppose."

"Why do you wear contacts, but he doesn't?"

Rebekah relaxed, "Ah, well, I see things projected on the contacts like most jackers. Peter has an implant; it's very expensive and very experimental. I see the images on the lens and they're relayed to my brain along the optic nerve like any other image. Peter has a tap directly into his brain. He sees the images, but not in the same way we do. His eyes have nothing to do with it. He has quite a bit of built in hardware that you can't see."

"Why don't you have a tap?"

Rebekah shrugged. "I'm a bit squeamish about someone messing with my brain quite that much, I guess."

"That I can understand. So, do you just see messages?"

"Yes and no. Jackers have an internal message system. Peter usually just talks to me or sends me images. The tap could—and I say could—really change things. Peter is hoping that it will be possible to share someone else's sensorium."

"Sorry, I don't understand. What's a sensorium?"

"Basically, it means the totality of a person's sensory environment. Their sensations, perceptions; the way they see, feel, smell; everything. Imagine being able to essentially be another person. Not their thoughts—you wouldn't know what they were thinking—just feeling,"

"Wow. I'm not sure I'd like that."

"Nor me. That's why I stick with a standard jack." She smiled.

"Thank you for explaining all that to me."  
"No problem, thank you too. People think all jackers are just virtual junkies, but that's wrong. Maybe we haven't got the balance right just yet, but I believe this is the way of the future. A symbiosis of people and machines. Anyway," she laughed "I really came to say, breakfast is ready. Hope those fit." She waved at the clothes.

"Thanks."

Maria put on a pair of tight jeans and a T-Shirt and went to breakfast. Rebekah was ladling porridge into bowls as she walked in. She stopped and looked appraisingly at Maria. "Nice."

"I agree." David was standing at the kitchen bench. Maria looked embarrassed. "Are you up to another trip out with Luke?" he asked. "You don't have to. It's bad out on the streets. I don't like asking, but we need all the help we can get."

"No, that's ok. I'm up for it, as long as he has one of your face changing things to wear. But, is he ok? That cut on his arm was pretty bad."

"Yeah, he's ok. The medic bandaged him up pretty well. We have people out meeting with other groups, but this next group's further out—a farm commune on the edge of the city—so it should be safer. There's going to be a meeting with the heads of quite a few of the communes, so it's pretty important."

"Ok. I'm game."

"Thanks."

He turned to John who was sitting in a seat, reading a screen by the window. "How about you John?"

John looked up." Sorry, not paying attention. I've contacted some of the guys out of my old unit. We're going to need some help with turning out the lights, and these guys know how to handle themselves in a fight. I'm also going to do a recon. I'd like to see what I'm up against. Seeing the plans is one thing; seeing the reality is different. People don't stick to plans."

David frowned. "I'm not sure that's a good idea; they'll have increased the security at all the strategic facilities."

"We'll be discreet then." He gave a half smile.

"Sorry. I know you know what you're doing. Actually, I'd like to know what you have in mind too."

"I'll let you know once I have something definite."

Peter came in. "Prime Minister's making an announcement at 9.00. The police and security forces are everywhere." He glanced at the table. "Great, porridge." He gave Rebekah a kiss on the cheek and a little hug. They all sat down to eat. At 9 a.m. Peter turned on the screen and a few moments later a spokesperson came on and introduced the Prime Minister.

"People of our fair city. You will have seen the shocking images of last night's riots in the western suburbs. Shops were destroyed and cars set on fire. Our police forces finally managed to contain the looting and destruction perpetrated by a small, radical element in the crowd. I will not allow this to continue. You will have seen the enhanced security presence on our streets. I have decided that under section 16 of the Emergency Management Act, effective immediately, martial law will be imposed in the city until such time as these anarchists have been apprehended. I will not allow our city to be held hostage by these thugs. A curfew will be imposed from midnight to 5.00am the next morning. Anyone on the streets will be arrested and charged. I have also ordered heightened security measures in the remainder of the country. We are at the highest level of terror alert in history. We believe further attacks are imminent.

Our police force has also made significant progress with the investigation into the recent bombings. Certain people connected to the terrorists have been arrested and I am confident that we will have the offenders in custody shortly. Anyone having information on their whereabouts should contact the police immediately. Under no circumstances should they be approached. These are highly dangerous individuals. Thank you."

The broadcast ended and the screen cut back to the news anchors and experts debating the emergency. Peter clicked it off.

"David, I put out feelers for some hackers, and as I said, I've had a reply. I've been contacted by a group who go by the name ChaosPlague. These guys are reputed to be the best in the business. They're hacktivists rather than straight hackers. They've done some amazing stuff in the past. I've given them an idea of what we're after and who they're dealing with. They apparently want to meet."

"Seriously? They want to meet in person? I wasn't sure they would even talk to me."

"I'll be given an address at the last minute, but don't be surprised if it's just the start of a bit of a run around. Just you and me. I doubt it will be a face to face." David nodded his agreement.

"This could be a set up," John said looking up. "How do you know they won't just sell you out?"

"Not these guys," said Peter. "They hate the government as much as you do. They're the ones who put a virus in the government's computer system just the other day. I can't see them doing deals with the enemy."

"Money, or maybe they get all charges dropped against them. Both good incentives," John replied.

"Sure. If they were straight criminals I'd agree, but these guys don't do it for the thrills. They are strictly anti-government."

"What about back-up. I could get a few guys together to tail you make sure it's not a trap."

"No," Peter replied forcefully. "I know your guys are good, but these guys will be watching very carefully. They'll spot it a mile away. We can't risk it. We don't have time to find another group and these guys are the best."

"Peter's right. We can't risk it. We'll just have to play by their rules. We need them; they don't need us," David said finally.

Luke came into the room, looking full of energy, despite his heavily bandaged arm. "If it's ok with Maria, we'll head out to the meeting with the communes on the edge of the city after breakfast. They're pretty independent on the fringes, so there's a lot of anti-government feeling out that way at the best of times. I'm starting to get some good feedback from people. There's a lot of anger and resentment out there; it just needs to be channelled." He glanced at Maria who nodded her agreement.

"Porridge. Great." He sat down and ladled himself a huge bowl.

"I see you haven't lost your appetite," said Rebekah wryly.

"Got to get my strength back." He waved his bandaged arm at them. He looked up at David. "I've been thinking. Getting the word out to the groups is fine, but that's not going to get enough people onto the street. We need to reach out more broadly than that. We need to talk directly to the ordinary people, or they're only hearing the Prime Minister's side of the story."

David nodded. "You're right. If this is going to work, we need a popular revolution. That's part of why I need to talk to the hackers. I want to get the evidence out to the public, but it needs to be in a way that really makes everyone sit up and take notice."

Luke and Maria organised themselves for the trip. When it was time to leave, Rebekah gave them each a big hug. David was standing at the door. "Don't take any chances. If there is any trouble just get out. I don't want to lose either of you."

Luke clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll be fine. I've got Maria to watch my back and keep me from doing anything stupid. Did you bring your club?" Maria pretended to hit him.

"I'm counting on that." He looked at Maria. "Stay safe."

She looked him in the eyes and then glanced away. "Ok."

They rest of them killed time chatting and drinking coffee until Peter stood up abruptly and grabbed his coat. It was raining again outside. "Time to go. Wilson's Arcade on Quadrant Street, Booth 3." He shrugged his shoulders at the odd location. They left by a side entrance, and ran through the rain across the park, through the back of some shops and hailed a tuk-tuk. The little vehicle raced through the streets, trying to avoid the worst of the flooding, the driver muttering and cursing about the traffic and the city drainage in between blasts of his horn and shouting at other motorists. At one point, they hit a busy intersection under an overpass where the road was totally flooded. Cars pushed slowly through, sending bow waves of water into the surrounding shops. Unperturbed, the driver ploughed into the pool sending up great sprays of water. Peter and David just hung on to the metal rail in front of them and hoped for the best as water began to cover the floor plate.

Wilson's Arcade was a dingy affair in a side street, featuring half a dozen of the ubiquitous VR pods as well as some older retro games. David was under no illusions about the sort of virtual reality entertainment that would be popular here. Wilson, or at least they assumed that it was him, was a fat, balding, European man wearing a grubby, short sleeved shirt who was seated behind a desk. Peter went up to him. "Booth 3, thanks." Wilson looked at him. "Twenty bucks."

Peter raised an eyebrow. Wilson had obviously decided to make a little money on the side. He waved his hand across the machine, which registered the payment. Wilson checked the machine and then handed him a data chip.

They went to the pod. There was a reclined chair and a VR suit and helmet inside.

"Toss you for it?" Peter said

"There is no way I'm putting on that suit," David replied. "But, I'll get in." He climbed in, put on the helmet and inserted the data chip. All that appeared was an address and the words: 'Destroy the chip.' He pulled off the helmet, ejected the chip and broke it to fragments in his hand. "433 Royal Ave."

"Royal Ave, that's where all the clubs and bars are." Peter said. They left and caught another tuk-tuk. As they drove down the road, they passed a truck carrying soldiers. Pairs of them were being deployed on the street corners. On one of the main roads, a roadblock was being set up. They travelled into the club district, which was all but deserted at this hour. The rain had become so heavy that waterfalls were coming off the roofs of the buildings. The driver let them out at 430 which was a big, glitzy club called The Jungle. They hunted around for a while across the street, until the realised that 433 was what looked like a derelict basement room with a board across the door.

"You're sure of the address?" Peter asked.

"Yeah." They walked down the steps and tried the handle. It just spun around in their hands. David put his shoulder to the door and pushed. With a grinding noise, it opened and they stepped inside. "I don't like this," he said.

"No," Peter agreed. The rooms inside were bare, damp concrete. The basement must have been used for storage at some stage. They began to search for some sign from the hackers. David was beginning to think that it was just a wild goose chase and the hackers were having some kind of poor joke, when Peter called out from one of the back rooms. "In here." David joined him. There was a screen attached to the wall with a small blinking red light.

"Now what?" asked David feeling somewhat frustrated.

"We wait," Peter replied. The words had barely left his mouth, and the screen sprang to life. Just a white-noise hiss, then a ghostly head emerged from the static, barely visible. A heavily modified, or maybe entirely electronic voice said, "You wanted to talk to us?"

"Yes, but why the cloak and dagger stuff?" David asked.

"A bit of fun, and to make sure you weren't followed. We were watching you on the cameras."

David was sure there was a hidden camera in the screen and they were being watched right now. "I take it we weren't followed then. I need your help."

"Right to the point. Fair enough. Why should we help you?"

"You can't like what's happening out there on the streets. The poverty, the violence; and now martial law with troops on the streets. The government is clamping down on everyone. They watch everyone; they control everyone and they're just tightening their grip."

"They don't control us."

"No. That's why I need your help."

"I still don't see why we should help you. You're just terrorists. You kill innocent people, you're no better than them."

"We did not plant those bombs," David said levelly. "The government did. We have proof and I'm more than happy to show it to you. That's the first thing I need your help with: I have video evidence of the government's involvement, but I need to get it out."

"You know me," said Peter. "You know who I am. I can vouch for what he says. He is not a terrorist."

"If it wasn't for the fact that you put out the call, we wouldn't be talking. We respect the Hive. We also did some checking on you Mr. Forrest."

"Really," said David in a neutral tone. He should have expected that.

"You're a hard man to get a handle on. Not much about you on the net. You seem to keep a very low profile."

"I like my privacy."

"That must have been the right thing to say, as he got a grunt of approval. "Just release your evidence on the net, you don't need us for that."

"We'll do that too, but we want to make a statement; make the government and everyone else sit up and take notice. There are screens everywhere: on buildings, and highways. They're controlled by Global Media from a central location. I know they've been hacked before." There was a small laugh from the screen. It was definitely a modified voice then. He, or they, sounded young. "Can you do it?" he asked.

The voice now had a hint of impatience. David had issued a challenge to their skills. "Of course we can do it, but you haven't told me why we should."

"Because I intend to bring down the government in a show of people power like nothing they have ever seen before."

"Ok." Now he sounded interested.

"Getting our proof out is the first thing I need help with, the second is the traffic on the main roads into the Core."

"Why?" Genuine curiosity now.

"I want to shut down the city for a few hours. Close every road. Turn every stop light red. I want to make the city stand still. I'm organising a march on the Prime Minister and I want to block the movement of the troops and police."

A pause. "You'll also need to close down their comms."

"You can do that?" David was genuinely surprised.

"Maybe. Never tried. When's this all going down?"

"The fourteenth."

"We'll get back to you." The screen went dead.

"You told them quite a lot," Peter said.

"No choice. If we can't get their help, then this isn't going to work. We can only get them to help if they trust us. Let's go."

They found a little coffee shop that was open in the mornings. It was quite busy and noisy, but that suited them. They found a back booth and settled down facing the door and with their backs to the wall.

"Do you think we can trust them?" David asked.

"Not entirely. They won't sell us out to the government—they see them as the enemy—but I don't think you can expect them to entirely follow your instructions either. They may help, but it'll be on their terms. They value their independence very highly."

"Do you know anything about them?" David asked.

"Only by reputation and what they've done, or reputedly done, in the past. No idea who they actually are. Probably best we don't know anyway." David nodded his agreement.

"I think we need to move tonight. Travelling in the city is going to get too difficult and risky shortly," Peter said.

"You have something in mind?"

"Yeah. I have cargo ship out on one of the wharves. It's in for a refit and some maintenance work, but I can send everyone away."

"I thought you were into electronics and communications?"

"I am. We thought about doing some importing, so we have a small fleet of sailing ships. It didn't work out, so we were fixing them up and going to put them on the market. We're heading to one that's berthed in a maintenance area by the dry dock, so it's tucked away from everyone."

"Ok, sounds good. How many vehicles have you got access to?"

"Quite a few, although some may not be in the best of repair. You could get Luke to steal a few more if you need to; he seems quite adept at it."

"Yeah, we probably don't want to know how he acquired that particular skill set. As long as they aren't going to break down, they should be ok. The Hive is probably being watched, so we should split up. We'll all go to the boat but via different routes. Reduces the risk of people getting picked up, and if they are watching they won't know who to follow. A few decoys might be useful as well."

Peter nodded, thinking it through. "It's a ship by the way, not a boat."

**

Luke and Maria headed out towards the edges of the city in the van. As they moved away from the Core, the security was far less obvious. They travelled north-west into the hills and into the large area that was devoted to feeding the city.

"I've never been out to the farms," Maria said.

"Most people haven't," replied Luke, glancing over at her sitting cross-legged in the passenger seat. It's mostly just massive, semi-automated farms, but around the edges there are a lot of small communes catering for people who want to live closer to nature. They supply a lot of the produce that the farms can't produce effectively and cheaply, organic food, tastes a whole lot better than the bland, mass produced GM stuff. That looks good, but it tastes like crap and slowly poisons you."

She laughed, "You really are a greenie."

"You bet."

As they drove, the buildings became sparser and soon they were driving through vast fields of rice and vegetables. Huge irrigators stretched away into the distance. Luke headed more westerly into the rural area above and behind the slums. Here the land changed and became more broken. There were smaller holdings with groups of houses clustered together like little villages surrounded by fields divided into sections. Dark clouds started to roll in and the wind picked up and the rain started to fall in sheets. The road turned to gravel and Luke had to slow down to make sure of the way and to stay on the road. He only had vague directions and it took them some time to find the right place. The little group of houses was centred on a larger hall. A carved wooden sign at the gate grandiosely named the commune "Utopia." As they pulled up a group of people came out to greet them clad in black oilskins. The leader, a rangy man with long, grey hair pulled back in a ponytail, introduced himself as Simon and took them inside out of the rain.

Inside the hall, a long wooden table had been laid with fruit and cheeses and big jugs of fruit juice. Simon introduced the others, and then the group sat down to share a meal, chatting amiably about harvests and produce. Once they were finished, Simon called them to order.

"Well young man, perhaps you could tell us why you've come to visit us."

Luke thought for a moment. "I want to be up front with you. I'm a wanted fugitive. I am on the run, accused of a terrorist act I did not commit." There was little reaction from the group. Luke assumed that they'd known that already, which is why he'd started as he had. Simon's eyes narrowed shrewdly.

"I represent a group known as the White Wing. We didn't call ourselves that, the Government did, when they labelled us as terrorists. We have proof that a group aligned with the Government planted those bombs, and we intend to publically expose that evidence for everyone to see.

You may be a little isolated out here, but I'm sure you know what's going on in the city. There's terrible poverty and food shortages. There are food and power riots almost daily. The wealthy sit in buildings in the Core, living in luxury, while the rest of the people starve. The Government is trying to stifle any dissent, using the police to break up protests and to arrest anyone who speaks out.

Using the bombings as an excuse, the Prime Minister has imposed martial law and a curfew. There are police and military on every street corner. People are searched and interrogated. The city is like a powder keg just about ready to explode.

We're trying to avoid that. What we're trying to do, is to raise support for a mass rally against the Government on the 14th, to demand the resignation of the Prime Minister and to try to bring the city back from the brink."

"What you're doing is very risky young man. It could easily end up in civil war." Simon spoke gently but firmly.

Maria spoke up. "We understand that. We know it's dangerous, we've already risked our lives opposing these people. The man who leads us has a lot of knowledge and experience. He knows what he's doing, and we trust his judgment, but to sit back and do nothing is not an option."

Luke spoke again. "We believe that if we can motivate enough people; if we can get enough people on to the street, then the Prime Minister will have to listen. He'll have to back down."

Simon nodded. "And as Edmund Burke once said: 'All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.' We are not as isolated here as you may think. We know what's happening and we understand how desperate things have become. Nor are we immune to the suffering of the poor. We'll talk through what you have said and decide what to do. Good luck."

"Thank you for listening to us," Maria said.

Simon nodded in acknowledgement.

**

David and Peter arrived back at the Hive in the early afternoon. The place seemed almost deserted.

They went up to the apartment to find Rebekah surrounded by holographic displays and pictures, arguing with someone over the tone of an article. The headline was apparently going to be the fairly mundane "Martial Law Imposed." There were articles on the bombings, the riots and the Prime Minister's response. The news feeds were having a field day. She looked up as they came in a harried expression on her face.

"She loves it you know," Peter said.

"Looks that way," David nodded. He dodged as a pen sailed past his head.

"Maybe we should leave her to it. Do you want to have a look at the cars?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. We should make sure they're all running."

They went down to the basement garage. Two expensive, electric vehicles sat in a caged off area. "Which do you think is more likely to be stopped: an old clunker or an expensive vehicle?" Peter asked.

"An old clunker. These two shout establishment and respectability." David replied.

"They'll stand out a bit though, especially at the docks."

"Yeah, you'll need to store them somewhere out of sight once we're out there," David replied.

"Ok."

"You and Rebekah take your own cars. Can you take Maria with you?"

"Why?"

"Pretty girl in older businessman's vehicle," David smiled.

"Ok, I get your point. It also keeps her away from being caught with one of you three."

"Exactly. John, Luke and I will take one of these old biofuel things each and take different routes out. Is there anyone who can drive some of these others? Maybe head toward the Freedom Town slum."

Peter paused for a moment as if checking. "Yeah, there are still a few people around."

"Ok. We'll try and leave just at the tail end of rush hour. I hope, that way, we won't get caught up in any traffic jams, but there'll still be plenty of cars around. The dark and the rain will probably give us some cover too."

"Ok. Sounds like a plan. Let's make sure these things are all working then."

**

Maria and Luke arrived back late afternoon to find them just finishing up.

"How did it go?" David asked from under the bonnet of a car.

"Good. They listened to us, but we didn't get any commitment. I still think we need something more public. Word's getting around, but we need something to get people to act. There are a lot of police and military out there. We had to double back and avoid road blocks the whole way home."

"Yeah we saw a lot of them too." David said, finishing his work and wiping his hands on a rag.

"How did your meeting with the hackers go?" Luke asked.

"Ok. I think they're in; although I'm not certain. They're going to let us know." David paused for a moment. "Anyway, we need to move to somewhere a little more out of the way where we can operate without running into the Police all the time. We're moving tonight."

16: Running the Gauntlet

They sat down to an early, light dinner. Outside, the sky grew darker, and the rain started to fall again. Everyone seemed quiet and subdued. John still hadn't arrived back, and it was apparent that David was becoming concerned; peak hour traffic had arrived.

"He'll be fine. We need to leave," Peter said.

David looked at his watch. Maria still found it amusing that he used an old analogue watch. "Five minutes more, and then we leave regardless." He went to stare out at the rain. The minutes ticked by. No one spoke. David turned back from the window.

"Ok, you're right, let's do it. Rebekah, you're first. Peter, Maria you'll be next. Then we send out our decoy cars. Peter, what do you think of sending them out together, convoy style, toward the slum? Not exactly subtle but it might draw away any unwanted attention." Peter nodded. "Luke, you follow. I'll go last. Take it easy don't draw attention to yourselves. Good luck."

They all went down to the garage where three young men sat together in one corner waiting for them, the decoy drivers. They stood up and slouched over as the others came into the garage, nodding at Peter.

Rebekah gave the others a quick hug and then came over to Peter, giving him a ferocious hug and a kiss.

"Stay safe," she ordered.

"We'll be fine. Look after yourself."

She gave him another quick kiss and then with a worried glance back, she jumped into her silver sports car and went roaring up the ramp.

Maria came over to David. "Take care of yourself," she said. She gave him a hug. For a moment, he didn't respond as if he wasn't sure what to do, then he hugged her back.

"You too. If you're pulled over don't try to run. I don't want anyone getting killed in a police chase. They aren't looking for you."

"We'll be fine." She turned and gave Peter a wicked smile. "Come on then sugar daddy."

Peter went to the car and opened the door for her, like a gentleman. "Please don't say that anywhere around Rebekah. Neither of us might survive that." They drove sedately out of the garage.

David went over to the three Hive residents that had volunteered to drive the decoy cars. "You guys know what to do?"

"Sure, we drive together over to the slum, dump the cars and find our way to our digs. Easy."

"Ok. There is a lot of security out there. Stick to the road rules. Don't do anything stupid, and if you get pulled up, just comply. Tell them you're heading home. The cars are legit and they're clean, so nothing to worry about." The three just nodded. David looked at his watch. "Time to go. Good luck. Stay safe." The three young men walked over to the cars and jumped in. They pulled out, and roared up the ramp shouting.

"Good to see they're following your instructions to the letter," Luke laughed.

David just looked at him and shook his head.

"Right, your turn," he said to Luke. Take care. I'll see you at the ship." He clasped Luke's arm and slapped his shoulder.

Luke turned to go, then turned back. "You ok?"

"I have a bad feeling about John."

"He knows how to take care of himself."

"Yeah, I know."

Luke turned and jumped into a car. A basic, boring sedan that hopefully wouldn't attract any attention. "See you soon." David watched him drive away before heading to his own car.

**

Rebekah pulled out of the building and drove out through the park. There was a police car at a nearby corner and they watched her as she drove by but didn't move. So far so good, she thought. She took the main road and headed toward the dock area. Her route was the most direct as she was probably the person at least risk of being stopped. A couple of blocks down, a Light Armoured Vehicle sat on a street corner with three armed soldiers in riot gear leaning against a wall nearby. She turned on the radio and ignored them as she drove past. The patrols were at every major intersection, but she'd travelled a few kilometres before she hit a road block. There were a couple of cars further up the road before it, to catch anyone who tried to turn around when they saw the checkpoint. She pulled into line and sent a quick message to let the others know. The line crawled forward. Cars pulled in behind her. There were six armed soldiers at the checkpoint; two checking the occupants of the cars, the others watching the road. As she approached the checkpoint, she made a point of checking her makeup and then turning on her dash phone. She placed a call to the design team at the paper and started a long and very dull discussion with the senior designer on page layouts. She arrived at the checkpoint and a young soldier came up to the window. He looked at her carefully and asked her for ID.

"Seb, I'm going to have to call you back. I'm at some sort of roadblock, but we need to talk more about the layout for the front page. Ciao."

"ID Ma'am."

"Is there any way we can speed this up, I'm running late for a meeting?" She handed him her ID card. He ran it through a scanner and then scanned her face. He had a perfunctory glance at the back of the car.

"No Ma'am, we're searching all the cars for the terrorists. Can you pop the boot?"

"Really? Do I look like a bomber?" She rolled her eyes.

"No, you don't Ma'am, but we have our orders." She reached down and opened the boot. The other soldier went around and sorted through her luggage. Rebekah had packed clothes in the boot and they could check all they liked. The second soldier came back around and shook his head. The soldier flipped his screen around and showed her a picture of David, John and Luke.

"Have you seen these men at all Ma'am."

"No, I haven't."

He nodded. "Thank you. Move on. He waved the next car forward as she drove off. She flicked a quick internal message to Peter to let him know she was through and then let out a deep breath.

**

Peter was approaching a checkpoint when Rebekah's message came through to him. He turned to Maria. "Rebekah's through. They're doing ID and face recognition checks and searching the cars. We should be ok." He could see Maria was looking nervous. "You ok?"

"Sure. Time to get into my role." She pulled out a makeup kit she'd borrowed from Rebekah and reapplied some bright, red lipstick and hitched up her skirt. A soldier with a scanner waved them to pull over. This checkpoint was bigger than the one Rebekah had struck. They were checking cars going both ways, and an armoured car sat off to the side with a large calibre machine gun on top. A soldier sat behind it, holding on to the weapon and staring down the road, alert for any trouble. Peter jumped slightly as he felt Maria's hand slide onto his thigh. He looked at her and she gave him a big grin. The soldier came to the window.

"ID's folks."

Peter pulled out his wallet and handed over his ID card. Maria made a move to lean over him to hand hers to the soldier. As she leant forward she was sure she gave the soldier a clear view of her cleavage. His eyes immediately swung down.

He gave the ID's a perfunctory glance. "Thank you, sir, ma'am." He handed them back and gave Maria a big smile.

"We need to check the car sir," he said to Peter.

"Ok, but can you make it quick? Myy..." he hesitated for a moment as if trying to remember "...secretary and I have an appointment." Maria laughed and then ran her hand down the side of his face. She smiled at the soldier. The soldier grinned back knowingly. "Course sir." He had a quick look in both the back of the car and the boot and waved them on. He seemed to have forgotten the scanner in his hand completely. They drove through.

"That was a bit over acted." Peter said looking over at Maria.

"Young men. You don't want to be too subtle." She laughed. "I think you just about left the seat when I put my hand on your leg."

"Warn me next time, please."

**

The three cars in the decoy convoy roared out and angled across the park hitting the street heading west. The LAV that had been sitting outside the Hive pulled out quickly and followed them. The three moved as quickly as the traffic allowed. Peter's instructions had been to move quickly and purposefully but not to draw too much attention. Terrorists would hardly want to draw too much attention. The leader, a young jacker with the nickname Chaz looked in the side mirror and saw a drone shadowing them from above. Seems the authorities had taken the bait. Driving sedately to the slum didn't seem like too much fun to him, and wasn't the idea to draw some attention, otherwise you weren't a very good decoy. He smiled to himself. They split off onto a side street and then cut through some side alleys, taking a complicated back route, which eventually brought them back on to a main road and they merged into the traffic. They passed a couple of police cars in a side road. He flicked a quick internal message to the other two. They all turned off onto a side road and then barrelled down a back alley. The cops would surely be following them now, and they were just a few kilometres from Freedom Town. A quick check of the mirror showed him the drone, still patiently tracking them. They came to another road. This was where he wanted to be. A massive concrete overpass ran down over the street. The drones view would be blocked. He pushed the speed up, zigzagged through the traffic, then cut across, heading once again for the west. Just another couple of k's, he thought. He heard sirens behind him. Damn, the police were going to stop them, they were nailed. He flicked another internal message to split up and not do anything stupid. The other two cars peeled off, one going left, the other right. He pushed on ahead. He knew if he could get to the slum, he might get away. He got a message back. One car had run straight into a road block. The cops were surrounding it with guns, so was out of the game. He flicked back to take it easy and co-operate. They hadn't done anything wrong.

He saw the crowd of tuk-tuks around the train station in front of him and pulled in hard, skidding to a stop. The car had barely stopped moving before he was out, running into the crowds of people trying to get home on the trains. He pulled his hood up and shoved into the pack of commuters. He was pushed towards the train by the crowd, and temporarily went with the flow, but that was not where he wanted to go. He glanced behind to see the police arrive. He pushed through the people, heading for the wall of the station. Sitting leaning against the grimy, green tiled wall were a group of jackers. He knew they would be there—they always were—using the public networks. He slumped down amongst them. Just another jacker. The police began searching the crowds. His first companion had been detained and was sitting in a police wagon. The remaining car was still moving, being pursued by police vehicles. 'Pull over' he sent. 'Don't give them a reason to shoot.' He could tell from the garbled message he got back that his friend was panicking. 'STOP!' he shouted the message. That got through. 'OK, OK'

'Get out and get your hands up, move slow.'

'Right.'

His friend flicked him a series of pictures. He saw police and soldiers yelling and running towards him, guns up. His friend lowered himself slowly to the ground. He could tell his friend was terrified. Chaz just kept repeating to him to co-operate. Don't fight back. They hadn't done anything wrong. He was so intent he didn't even notice the policeman walk past looking intently at each of them. He looked just like any other jacker lost in an internal virtual world.

He flicked a quick message to Peter that they were down and out but had done the job and were still alive. At this stage, anyway.

**

As Luke drove out, he noticed that the police vehicle was gone from the road outside. The three young Hive guys had drawn them off. He just hoped they didn't do anything stupid. He merged into the traffic and cruised slowly down the road toward the eastern suburbs. These were the richer areas of town, close to the bright heart of the city. He hoped that the police presence in those areas would be less, but he had to get there first. Things were hard on the streets. As he drove, he could see homeless people hunched over in doorways, wrapped in blankets and plastic sheets to protect themselves from the rain. Everything looked grey, tired, and worse for wear. The road was pitted and rough, and rubbish littered the street. Blown by the wind and soaked by the rain, it flowed along the gutters and clogged the drains. Groups of tough looking youths stood on street corners with nothing to do but cause trouble. He remembered being one of those youths not so long ago. Here and there, armed soldiers patrolled on foot, locals moved warily aside to let them pass. The atmosphere was ripe for violence. He cruised on by. He didn't want to draw any attention. Sticking to the back streets, he travelled quietly across town. Then came the difficult part: he came to a main intersection where the bridge across the river joined a main road. On the other side were the affluent suburbs. Not for the first time he thought of the river like a moat, keeping the poor and the undesirables out. He pulled over, expecting that the bridge would be patrolled. It was a perfect choke point to set up a road block, however there was nothing but the backed-up rush hour traffic. It wasn't usually this bad here. Then, he noticed the two cars parked on the side of the road. They were parked just down from the bridge on either side, a couple of men in each. He realised what was up. The police had set their block further up the road, in the straight section just after the road bent to right on the far side of the bridge. An unsuspecting person would cross the bridge, turn the corner, and not be able to turn around without drawing attention. The two cars on this side were to go after anyone who tried to run for it. He turned down the road and then onto a side street and dumped the car. He pulled up his hoodie and slouched slowly and calmly to the intersection and crossed over to the bridge. There were a couple of men on the bridge watching, but they looked bored and listless. He strode across the bridge and had got half way across when he heard a voice. It was one of the men.

"Hey, you in the hoodie."

Luke turned slowly to look at the man. He was a greying man about fifty. He had his hand on the butt of a gun in a holster. He came closer to Luke, staring at his face. Luke just stared back and said nothing, hoping that the man would not recognise him with the holographic mask.

"ID."

Luke pulled out one of his fake ID's. He'd also had the face on it changed to match the holographic mask. The man looked at the ID and then at Luke. Luke tensed. He could disarm the man and have him down in seconds. The second man might be harder, but he didn't dare look to see where he was.

"Where ya going?"

"See a friend."

"You know there's a curfew from midnight?"

"Yeah. Won't be going out after."

"Ok. On your way."

Luke strolled off, forcing himself not to hurry. He got to the end of the bridge and turned away from the road, taking an alley through the houses. He re-joined the main road half a kilometre further on and looked back to see the police road block. Multiple cars blocked the road, backed up by troops. He gave a sigh of relief. He'd been lucky. He turned away, looking for another car to steal.

**

David's route led him to the west and then south toward the harbour. It was a longer, circuitous route, but he wanted to get further out toward the edge of city and then come down the coast road. The only problem was that it took him toward Freedom Town, which would, he suspected, be heavily patrolled. It was a trouble spot at the best of times. His route took him away from the city centre. He could see the bright lights and the skyscrapers clearly in the rear-view mirror. After the bombings, they would be under total lock down, so he wanted to be as far away from them as possible. The Freedom Town slum covered a huge area in the west of the city. It ran approximately north/south, up against the western hills. On its south-western side, it backed onto the old sea -wall that had been built to stop the water getting into the city. That part of the wall was the only part still above the sea.

He had almost reached the slums when he hit the patrols. They were on every road leading in and out of the slum. He had no choice, he was forced to drive further north than he had intended ̶ towards the hills ̶ to evade them. He was about to turn around and head back to try to find another route, when he turned a corner and was stopped dead. He'd blundered straight into a road block. Armed soldiers manned the barricades, and police with dogs were checking the cars. He looked behind him, but there was no way to turn around. This was bad. He just had to hope the fake ID and the mask would get him through. The car two in front was a battered old bio-fuel junker, converted from an old petrol car. In it, four young men sat with music blaring out. Two cops went to the window of the car. They had hands on their guns, alert for trouble. David couldn't hear what was said, but whatever it was, they didn't like it. The cops stepped back and drew their weapons, shouting at the young men. David saw the door of the car directly in front of him open. The man on the passenger side stepped out carrying a pump action shotgun. The two cops saw him, but it was too late, there were two loud thumps and both the cops went down, reeling from the force of the impacts. The dog hurled itself at the man, but he shot it at point blank range. All of the men were out of the car now, all carrying weapons. David guessed a drug gang had got caught in the road block like he had. Time to leave.

An all-out firefight erupted. The fight wouldn't last long. The soldiers training and superior weapons would easily win. Suddenly, his car windscreen exploded, showering him with glass. People were running and screaming as the bullets flew. David grabbed his bag and ran from the car, down a narrow side street away from the melee. He jumped a fence and ran through a rubbish-filled back yard, hopefully he could get behind the block and into the slum. He burst through a gate and ran down a narrow alley along the back of a building. In one of the doorways, a small boy in a blue shirt and red shorts stood looking wide eyed at the stranger running past. His older sister in a faded and patched denim dress stood behind him. David pulled up.

"Quickly go inside. Now." They scuttled back indoors.

He reached the end of the alley and stopped just as a pair of cops ran past, toward the firefight, guns drawn. They immediately stopped. There was nowhere to run. David launched himself at them. He hit the first with the heel of his palm, driving it into the man's sternum. The man flew back. Then David spun toward the second cop hitting him in the head with his forearm. The man crumpled like a rag doll. The first cop was getting to his feet. David stepped over and kicked him in the jaw. The fight had lasted a matter of seconds.

David ran as hard as he could through the narrow streets. He turned into a larger street and saw a group of youths wearing bandanas and throwing rocks at a group of police. Unfortunately, they had let themselves get trapped and a couple of police armed with batons had got around behind them, cutting off their escape. They were in serious trouble now. They were in for a beating at least. David hesitated but couldn't leave them. He pulled his staff out and charged at the two policemen between him and the youths. The other police saw him coming and yelled out a warning. Both men turned to face him. As he reached them, one man swung at him viciously. David swung the staff blocking the blow easily and then turned to bring the other end around slamming it into the man's helmet. The helmet cracked and the man went down in a heap, stunned by the blow. The other man had pulled his Taser out. David let his momentum carry him around spinning again and knocked the weapon out of his hand, then he flipped the heavy staff vertically and brought it down on the spot between the man's shoulder and neck. The policemen bucked at the knees under the blow and David swung the other end of the staff into the side of his head, knocking him unconscious.

"Move!" he yelled at the youths who were just staring at him. They needed no further encouragement. He turned to face the other three police and then charged them with a snarl. One raced forward, maybe he was braver than the other two, or more stupid. David simply hit him in the head with a quick one-two with the staff. He moved toward the remaining two. That was too much for the other men. They turned and fled down the street.

David took the opportunity and ran.

Within minutes, he was in the maze of streets that formed the slums at the foot of the hills. He stopped and put his staff away, he didn't need to draw attention. He had no idea where he was. He knew he had to go left to head back in the direction he had come. He jogged down a couple of streets heading in the general direction of the harbour. He was aware of the eyes that were following him as he went. He came to a broader street, lined with small shops, and headed down it. He was half way down when a small group of young men stepped out into the street in front of him. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know there were more behind him. This just wasn't his day. The shopkeepers averted their eyes, they had seen this all before. David slowed up but continued to move toward the group that had stopped in the middle of the street. The leader stepped forward, a surly looking youth of about eighteen with a scar on one cheek and long oily hair.

"I don't want any trouble man," David said. "I'm just passing through."

The youth smiled. His teeth were black and rotten. He turned back toward his companions making sure of their support and then back at David.

"Well you found trouble. This is our patch man."

"I don't have time for this. I'm just passing through."

"What's in the bag?" the youth asked.

"Clothes." David sized up the group. There were four of them. Probably two behind. They had fanned out in an arc facing him. Scarface was clearly the leader. The biggest one who looked like he worked out and standing at Scarface's right shoulder looked like the deputy. These two were the ones to target.

"Toss the bag over now." Scarface hardened his tone. David just stared at him. With a snick, Scarface flicked out a blade. "Now, or I'm going to cut you up good."

David tossed the bag at his feet. Scarface glanced down at it. David moved so quickly he was just a blur. He hit the leader in the side of the head so hard he thought he heard the sound of bones breaking. Then in one smooth movement, he scooped up his bag and spinning he kicked the deputy square in the face. The remaining two gang members' faces just registered shock. David turned slightly to see the two that had been behind him. They were staring at their leader who was lying unconscious and bleeding up against the wall of a shop. David walked away.

At the end of the street, David turned right and saw a main road a short distance away. He moved quickly and merged into the crowd. The road was lined with dozens of little shops, all poorly lit, concrete walled boxes, stuffed with goods, and with big, steel roller doors that could be pulled down at night. Shopkeepers sat on stools behind little counters waiting for customers or called out trying to tempt the passers-by with their wares. The road was busy now, as night was approaching and people were out shopping. This wasn't a place you wanted to be out in at night.

He had no sooner joined the crowd than he was surrounded by little children, big wide eyes and hands out looking for something. David felt sorry for them, although most of them worked for gangs and weren't really beggars at all. He pushed on through, doing his best to ignore them. If he gave to one, he'd never get rid of them. There were no soldiers here. This was a place with its own rules, its own code of conduct. The police didn't dare interfere. He had an idea where he was now, and he moved quickly forward.

He had walked a few kilometres before he arrived at China Town. Darkness had fallen and paper lanterns hung from shop fronts, surrounded by insects. Families sat around chatting idly while eating from deep bowls, chopsticks flying. Most of the shops were deeply shadowed, lit only by candles or LED gravity lights. He turned off the main road and into a small square. Tucked away at the back was a long narrow shop, lined with hundreds of little wooden drawers. He pulled down his hood and went inside. A little, old man shuffled out. He was almost a caricature of a Chinese medicine man, with a little silk cap, round glasses and a long grey beard. He started talking quickly in Chinese and then stopped, tilting his head to one side, peering at David in the dim light.

"David?"

David smiled at him. "Hello Ho. It's been a long time."

The old man nodded. Then he moved to the door, peered into the square looking out into the dark and then pulled down the steel door.

"Does anyone know you're here?"

"No. I'm sure I wasn't followed."

"You're a dangerous man to be around at the moment."

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to cause you any trouble. I'll go, if you want me to."

Ho looked offended. "Come in the back." He shuffled off.

At the rear of the shop was a little room with a kitchen and a simple bed. A bowl of noodles sat on the table, half eaten.

"Can you lift the weight?" Ho nodded at the gravity light. David went over and lifted the weight. A light came on, bathing the room in a soft, yellow glow.

"How have you been?" asked David.

"Good. Getting old now. I remember when we were both young. Now I'm old and you look just the same, well, not exactly the same. I wasn't sure it was even you."

"Ho, I won't stay long. I don't want to put you in danger. I need to know if there is any way out of Freedom Town that avoids the road blocks."

"They've put a steel noose around us. I think they feel that if there is to be trouble, we will cause it." He chuckled. "They are right of course," he paused for a moment. "You want something to eat?"

"Yeah, that would be good."

Ho set to making another bowl of noodles. "I hear rumours of something happening on the 14th." Ho said.

"The rumours are true. We're planning a couple of 'events', shall we say, and a mass march. A peaceful one. I want to get as many people as possible on to the street to force the Prime Minister to back down."

Ho nodded. "I will do my best to get people to march." He smiled sadly. "I don't have the influence I once had." Ho had long been at the forefront of defending the rights of the poor and downtrodden of the city's slums through his work in charities.

"Any help is appreciated," David replied.

Ho placed a steaming bowl in front of David and sat down to continue with his meal. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the quiet clack of chopsticks.

Ho finished his meal, put a kettle on the little bio-gas stove and busied himself making jasmine tea. Soon the pleasant aroma filled the room. Ho placed a small handle-less ceramic cup in front of David.

"Who bombed the mall and the overbridge?"

"Thank you," sighed David.

"I never thought you did it. No thanks are required."

"Men connected to Simon Ballock. We have the evidence to prove it."

Ho's eyebrow went up. "Prime Minister Graham's advisor?"

David nodded. "One and the same."

"Why would the Government bomb a mall in the centre of the city and blame you? To give them an excuse to bring in martial law," he answered his own question.

"It may be a lot bigger than that. I don't know for sure."

"But you suspect?"

David nodded again. Ho might be getting on in years, but his intellect was as sharp as ever.

"Is the Prime Minister involved?"

"I don't know. Possibly not, but either way he's wielding the power."

Ho nodded. "The Government have been tightening their control for a long time. That is a logical extension. We are headed for a dictatorship, with Mr Ballock wielding the real power." He sat and sipped at his tea for a while, thinking.

"I need to make some calls. There are many ways out of the slum, but getting you to wherever you want to go may be more difficult. Where do you need to go?"

"South. To the docks."

Ho nodded and pulled a phone from his robe and started talking rapidly in Chinese. David pulled out his own phone and sent a quick message to say that he had run into trouble but was ok, and asked if everyone else had arrived at the party. He got back the simple message: All here. David felt relief flood through him. He hadn't realised how worried he had been.

An hour later, there was a quiet knock at the door. Ho turned on his screen and they saw a young man standing at the rear entrance. Ho shuffled off and opened the door for him.

"David, this is Gan. A young friend of mine." Gan bowed slightly. David stood and shook his hand. "Gan will help you get out of the slum. He has certain skills in this area." Gan smiled slightly.

"We need to go quickly." Gan spoke softly.

"Ok." David turned to Ho. "Thank you, my friend. I'll see you soon." Ho tilted his head to one side in acknowledgement. David hugged him.

"Good luck."

**

They ran down the small alley at the rear of the shop. A dog set to barking as they passed, but Gan ignored it. As they neared the corner, a man stepped out of the shadows and waited for them. Two small electric motorcycles sat parked against the wall. Gan tossed David a helmet. "Follow me." The other youth gave Gan a nod and disappeared into the dark. Gan hopped on one bike and took off down the street with David close behind. Gan weaved in and out of the narrow streets, heading generally south. There were still plenty of people out, but no one gave them a second look. Soon Gan pulled off and headed down a narrow, cobbled alley that came out into a small yard and headed into the open door of an old building made of corrugated iron. David followed him in. The building was an old warehouse, dimly lit by a single bulb. Crates were piled up along a back wall. A couple of young men stood just inside the doorway and closed the big sliding door once they were both inside. David turned off the bike and took off his helmet. He looked at the two men, both were armed with shotguns. They looked back at him intently. They were clearly smugglers or drug runners of some sort. Gan pulled off his helmet and looked carefully at David.

"Ho asked me to help you get out of Freedom Town. From here we go on foot."

"Gan." One of the men, a surly, pock-faced youth called out and with a flick of his head signalled for Gan to come over.

"Hold on." Gan went over to the other two and a rapid conversation in Chinese followed. Gan shifted from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation. The pock-faced youth chanced a quick glance at David. David felt a sinking feeling. This was going bad. The three of them moved back over to him. Gan wouldn't meet his eyes. David's thought was that the Prime Minister had probably posted a reward, and these two had worked out who he was and thought they could collect. It wouldn't have been too hard to figure it out even for them. Here he was, obviously not from the slums and trying to find a way through the police cordon.

He shifted his weight to his back foot and waited. The shotgun barrel of the first youth came up. David stepped to one side, and grabbed the end of the barrel with his left hand and slammed it back into the youth's face. Blood spurted everywhere. He wrenched the gun from his grasp and at the same time stamped hard on the side of his knee. He grabbed the stock of the gun with his right hand and using it like a staff, swung the butt into the face of the other man hard. Bone crunched. Both men collapsed to the ground moaning. David stepped over and picked up the other weapon. Gan was looking at him in terror.

"Shit. Please don't hurt me."

David pointed the gun at him. "I need to get out of here. Move or you're dead."

Gan put his hands up, palms out in a placating gesture. "Ok, ok don't hurt me."

"Move!"

Gan led him outside quickly. A light rain had begun to fall. David wiped his fingerprints off the guns and dumped them in a nearby barrel.

"Where do we go?" he asked.

Gan led him down an alley at the rear of the warehouse and then down a side street. David could hear traffic not far away. They entered a dilapidated warehouse and headed down to the basement. At one end was a big metal grill in the floor. Gan tried to pull it up but struggled. David leant down and helped him move it out of the way. A set of rusty steel rungs led down to a service shaft. It was wet and smelt foul.

"I didn't plan that. Honest," Gan pleaded.

"I know. You'll have to see those two again. I thought if I threatened you with the gun you'd be able to use that as an excuse for co-operating."

"Oh. Ok."

"Let's go." David nodded toward the tunnel.

Gan led the way down. At the bottom, he took a dynamo powered torch off a shelf on the wall and played the thin beam into the darkness. A concrete tunnel led off, with pipes and cables suspended from the ceiling. "It leads under the road to another building. We can use it to get past the road blocks."

"Ok. Lead on." They walked slowly down the tunnel. The floor was wet and slippery, and water was dripping from the ceiling. In the middle, they could feel the vibrations from the passing traffic. After about two hundred metres, they came to another steel ladder, but Gan shook his head and led him further on. They came to a set of rungs formed by slots cut directly into the concrete wall. A steel manhole cover sat on top. Gan started to climb.

"Where does it come out?" David whispered.

Gan put his finger to his lips to signal quiet and carefully lifted the steel plate just a few centimetres. The grating noise sounded incredibly loud. He peered through the crack and apparently satisfied lifted it further. He slipped it to the side and gently laid it down and climbed out. David followed him quickly and then replaced the cover. They were in a dusty warehouse close to the main road. Only a small, empty yard separated them from the cars. The rain was falling heavily now, and water was falling in torrents from the holes in the roof. Gan moved over to the window, keeping low, and peered out. The headlights of cars and trucks lit up the road as they passed. Two soldiers stood outside the yard watching the road, with their backs toward the building. Gan motioned for David to follow and led him to a small, steel door in the rear wall. The door opened easily. It had been greased recently. Gan went off through a gate and down a small street. There were few street lights, and they slipped silently from shadow to shadow. Finally, they arrived at a row of garages, each with a steel roll-a-door. Gan went to the third door and knocked quietly. The door came up part way and they slipped inside. A small truck was parked inside, full of boxes. A couple of dark skinned men greeted Gan. They pointedly ignored David and started moving boxes out of the truck. Then they started moving the floorboards. The truck had a false bottom, just deep enough for a man to lie flat. David didn't want to think about what they might usually smuggle inside that space. One of the men motioned for him to get inside.

"Good luck." Gan shook his hand.

"Thank you." David took a deep breath and lowered himself into the gap, throwing his bag in first. The floorboards were put back in place. The wood was no more than a centimetre from the tip of his nose. He thought of John's comment about being claustrophobic in the tunnel. Luckily, he wasn't here now. He heard the door go up and shortly after, the motor started. The truck slowly drove out and into the road. The motor was an old biodiesel and the fumes started to fill the narrow gap. David tried to relax. If he coughed at the wrong time, it could be all over. The truck rumbled down the road. They seemed to be taking a main route, as David could hear traffic around him. They drove for at least an hour and a half. He had no way of knowing which way they were heading, and he could only trust they were taking him to the port, but after the incident in the warehouse David wasn't so sure. The truck stopped, and he heard the doors open. Maybe they had reached the port? David heard voices and froze. It was a roadblock. He heard boxes being opened and felt the weight of someone stepping on the wood right on top of him. The banging and thumping continued for minutes. He tried to remain calm and breathe quietly. He heard arguing, and then the door slammed shut. After a few moments, the truck engine started, but just a few minutes later, it stopped again. Nothing happened for a long while, until he heard the truck doors open and boxes being moved. There was a light tap on the boards, then they were pulled up. The man was grinning widely.

"There was a checkpoint just outside the port to stop people escaping. We got searched." He grasped David's arm and pulled him up.

"Where are we?" David stood up and stretched his aching muscles.

"A little shed by warehouse twelve. Here." He tossed David a set of grubby yellow overalls, hard hat, and safety glasses. "You don't look like a dock worker." He grinned again. Without another word, the two men got back in the truck and disappeared. David slipped out of the back of the shed and started walking. The rain had let up, and a damp, cool breeze was blowing in from the sea, smelling of salt air and fish. He strode purposefully along the port docks, trying to look like he knew where he was going and that he belonged there. There were lots of boats in, mostly sail boats, with a few biodiesel coastal freighters. There was lots of activity with plenty of people about, but no one took any notice of him. He reached the end of the port and entered the hardstand and maintenance areas. There were a lot fewer people around here. He saw the big dry dock and began walking towards it. At last he saw her, sitting tied at the dock, gently swaying in the swells, The Madrugada. A single light showed on her. David looked up. The sky was just starting to lighten with dawn. He walked over and stood by the side. He sensed movement and Luke stood up from the deck.

"You take the scenic route?"

"Something like that." He hopped over the side and clasped Luke's arm.

"You look beat," Luke said.

"Busy night. You look pretty exhausted too."

"Yeah. Thought I'd stay up to watch the sunrise."

"John?" David asked.

Luke shook his head. "Nothing so far. Come one. Let's get some breakfast."

**

The old, battered contractor's van pulled up in an alley behind an office block just next to its underground parking garage. A man got out and opened the rear doors, pulled out some orange road cones topped with silver reflective tape, and placed them around the van and a nearby manhole. He moved in a slow deliberate manner that showed familiarity and boredom, a workman just going through his routines. Once he was finished, two other men in city maintenance overalls, carrying a large work bag, hopped out and they stood around the manhole as if contemplating a job. Then they pulled up the manhole and pulled some gear out of the van.

Behind them, the steel grill that closed off the underground garage clanked and began to rise. A small, electric car shot out the moment the door was high enough for it to exit. The two men with the bag immediately turned and walked under the grill before it closed. They walked to the back of the garage and up the short set of stairs to the door of the stairwell. They had chosen this building because it was old and had little in the way of security. The door was locked, but one of them produced a thin blade and had the door open in seconds. They went up a floor to ground level and opened the door that led to the lobby. The toilets were directly opposite. Once the coast was clear, they crossed over and entered the toilet. Once inside they took off their overalls and shoved these into the bag. Underneath, they were wearing modern, grey suits and ties. John checked his face in the mirror and slipped on a pair of dark glasses. His companion, a big man with a shaved head, slapped him on the back. "You're beautiful. Let's go."

They walked out of the bathroom and back into the stairwell, walking purposefully upwards. A high-pitched voice sounded above, and two young women came skipping down the stairs chatting animatedly.

"Morning ladies." John smiled at them. They giggled and then disappeared down the next flight. They reached the top of the building and walked down the corridor past a suite of offices talking quietly. An elderly receptionist glanced up and then looked back down at her screen. So far, so good. They passed the lift and reached a steel fire door. It was alarmed, but John disabled the electronics in seconds. They pushed through, wedging a thin piece of plastic into the gap to stop it closing on them, but not making it obvious that it was still open. A short flight of stairs led to the rooftop. They again donned the overalls and caps and walked out onto the roof to an air-conditioning unit on the side of the building nearest the road. They quickly pulled the cover off it and pretended to begin work. John walked to the edge and placed a small camera the size of a matchbox on the parapet. He looked over the road toward the grounds of the nuclear power plant facility that was on the far side. A high fence, topped with razor wire, protected the perimeter and armed guards manned the gatehouse. In the park-like surrounds, he could see pairs of guards with dogs patrolling. He tapped his glasses and they switched modes to give him a magnified view. Parked outside the huge glass and steel building housing the state of the art fusion reactor was an armoured personnel carrier. Guards patrolled the building. He knew there were only two accesses: a delivery entrance at the rear of the building and the main entrance through the administrative block. The outsides of the building were just smooth walls with no stairs and no way to climb up. On top of the building was a helicopter pad with a large civilian helicopter parked on it. He went back to the air con unit and related what he'd seen.

"We're going to need more men." Carl was ex-special forces from John's old unit. A grizzled veteran of many conflicts, he also had a sharp tactical mind. "Tell me again why we can't just blow up the transmission lines?"

"Because that will only cause major damage and blackouts. This is not about causing damage."

"What's wrong with doing some damage if the only people who suffer are the rich bastards in the city centre?"

John laughed. "Nothing, but the idea is to get them to share the power not to cut it off for everyone."

"Were going to need something big enough to go right through the security barrier and then we're going to have security coming at us from all sides. After the bombs, they won't be taking prisoners. Front door or loading bay?"

"Front entrance. Both are well protected, but the loading bay is a lot further to go. The guards will be on us before we can get inside."

They pretended to work on the unit for another fifteen minutes while the little camera recorded the movements of the patrols. Then John scooped it up and put it in the bag. Just as he did, he heard the hum of propeller blades. A sleek, white drone came up the side of the building. An electronic voice boomed out. 'This is a restricted area. Remain where you are."

"Fuck," Carl spat.

"We're fixing the air con man." John waved his hand like a frustrated contractor gesturing at the unit.

"Remain where you are."

"Fuck that." Carl bent over and picked up a shot-gun from the bag and in one smooth movement blasted the front of the drone. The camera in its nose was shattered. They grabbed the bag and ran for the door. The drone righted itself. It must have had a backup camera as bullets from its twin guns cut lines toward them. John went down as a bullet clipped his leg. Carl pulled another gun from the bag. A small, compact machine gun and peppered the drone with bullets as it raced toward them. It broke off and arced around for a second run. John surged back to his feet, his leg red with blood. They reached the door.

"You ok?"

"Went right through. Let's move." They ran down the corridor and into the stairwell.

Carl pulled a phone out of a pocket. "They're on to us. Get ready to move. There's a drone." They raced down the steps as quickly as John's leg would allow and then crashed through the lobby back to the basement car park. The van was parked against the grill, with its back door open ready to go. They punched the exit button and the grill slowly lifted. They dived into the van.

"Halt or we fire." An amplified voice boomed out from an approaching police car. The man at the wheel of the van floored it and turned down the alley. Carl was up on one knee and as the back of the van swung around, he fired a burst of machine-gun fire at the approaching police car. Bullets shattered its windscreen and peppered the bonnet, and the car slewed to a halt. Carl reached back and closed the rear doors. John had pulled out a small med kit and was trying to treat his bullet wound, but the wild motion of the van was making it impossible.

"We need to ditch the van, soon as," Carl called out.

"I know, but that bloody drone's on our tail," the driver called back.

"Get us on a straight road!" Carl shouted.

"No. It'll nail us with its cannons."

"Do it." Just as he said it, bullets slammed into the side of the van. Carl pulled out a small tube.

"What the fuck is that?" John shouted. Carl just grinned and kicked open the rear door. The drone was right behind and above them. He pointed the small tube at it and pushed a button. A micro-missile flashed out and streaked toward the drone. There was nothing the remote pilot could do to evade it. The drone disintegrated in a fireball. The driver roared down the road, away from the flaming wreckage. They could hear sirens somewhere behind them. The driver swung right, down a side road and entered a parking building. They piled out and walked quickly to a fast-looking electric car. They had it open and running in seconds. Then drove quickly out the far exit and into the traffic.

Carl looked down at John's leg. There was blood all over the seat. He pulled a small med kit out of his bag and handed it to John. John swiftly cut away his trouser leg, cursing about ruining a good suit, then he bound his leg.

"We need to get him to a doc," the driver said.

"Yeah. Let's go pick up the other car and then we'll go see Mac." They drove to a nearby market where they had stashed another van. The contractor's van had been stolen that morning, and they had always planned to swap vehicles after the recon. After the switch, they drove east to a gated community with high walls and cameras. The driver leaned out the window so the camera could see his face and punched a code into the intercom. A gruff voice answered.

"It's us. Need a bit of work done." There was an electronic beep and the heavy gate swung open. They drove up to a large, grey, weatherboard house set in manicured grounds. The garage was open and they drove right inside. An older man with silver-grey hair was waiting for them.

"What happened?"

"Bit of a run in with a surveillance drone."

"Bring him in." They followed the older man into a small doctor's surgery in the basement and lifted John onto the examination table."

"Hey John, been here before."

"Mac, yeah deja vu." Mac had been the base doctor when they were in the service together. He had stitched them up more than once.

"Were you followed?"

"No, sure we weren't," Carl answered as Mac checked John's leg.

"The bullet went straight through the muscle. Missed everything important, but that's a fair size hole. Those things pack a punch. They'll know it was you from the DNA in the blood and your service records."

"I'm already wanted. Doesn't matter." John responded.

"Once they tie you to the scene though, they'll work out that the reactor was an objective. They'll increase the security," Carl said

"Yeah I know. They shouldn't be able to ID me from the video and it'll take time to get a DNA test. We might get lucky. We needed the intel, but there was always a risk."

"I still think we hit the transmission lines. They're too long to protect."

"They don't have the same symbolic effect."

"Oh, sorry. I forgot about the symbolic effect," Carl laughed. "I just like blowing shit up."

Mac broke in. "John I'm going to give you a mild sedative and sew you up. You could do with some blood, but I don't have a store here."

"I'm the same type," the driver called from across the room where he was reading an outdated flying mag.

"Ok good. Get in here."

It was dark outside when John woke up. Mac was sitting in an arm chair next to the bed. He had been reading an old paper book by George Orwell but had dropped off to sleep and his glasses had slipped down his nose. John propped himself up on the bed

"Hey Mac." Mac stirred and opened his eyes.

"Sorry, dropped off. Seem to be doing that a lot lately. Must be getting old," he chuckled. "How ya feeling?"

"Sore and tired but ok. Thanks."

"Do I want to know what you were doing?"

"You've seen the news?"

"Course. Watching TV and patching up wounded terrorists is all I do all day."

"We were framed and we can prove it. The proof will come out over the next couple of days."

"Who planted the bombs?"

"Associates of the Prime Minister?"

Mac's eyebrows went up, "Why frame you for it?"

"They just needed a scape goat. It was an excuse to impose martial law."

"Why you though? There are plenty of eco-terrorist groups around they could have pinned the blame on that would have made more logical targets. Why choose you?"

"Long story. Something personal between me and Simon Ballock."

"Ballock. Never trusted that one. Bit too much of the Wormtounge about him."

John laughed. "Spot on about that." He flexed his leg. It hurt but moved freely.

"I'd take it easy for a few days if I were you. Give the stitches time to heal." Mac said in his professional voice.

"Don't think I'm going to be able to rest up too much over the next few days, but I'll try. Thanks Doc."

"What's going on?" Mac asked.

"On the fourteenth, we have a big march planned to confront the Prime Minister, but there a lot of things that I need to do before that and critical to it is to cut the power to the city centre. We were scoping out the reactor when we got sprung by the drone."

"The reactor, hmm. Hard target. It'll be heavily guarded. That's the Prime Minister's show piece. But I can see the strategic importance, control the power and you control the city." John nodded slowly in agreement.

"You need a diversion. Draw the security away from the main gate and then hit it. Once you're inside, you'd have to fight your way to the reactor. Threaten to blow it up and you'll definitely have the Prime Minister's attention." Mac said.

"We don't really want to damage it. The idea is to give everyone access to the power and not just the wealthy."

"You don't have to actually blow it up. The threat will keep them at bay for long enough to see if your march works. Getting out is going to be a problem though. Carl is right. Taking out the transmission lines would be easier." He paused. "Do you want something to eat?"

"Yeah," John said, but he had stopped listening. He was deep in thought.

17: Fighting Back - July 11

Editorial: July 11 Morning Edition City Times

What is a terrorist?

A couple of days ago, two appalling events shook our city with unprecedented, chilling acts of violence.

We see anti-government riots and protests on the streets regularly and we see violence against individuals, often random and unprovoked, every day. So much so, that we have become desensitised to them. However, these events were something different. Never before have we experienced premeditated violence against innocent people on this scale. These events were sickening and evil, and the true perpetrators deserve to be punished.

The Government has laid blame on an unknown, radical, anarchist cell called the White Wing for these atrocities. They have labelled the alleged perpetrators "terrorists." Those behind it have become public enemies.

Who are these people? What do they stand for? Did they in fact carry out these acts? Are they terrorists? There are lots of questions, as we struggle to comprehend what has happened, but precious few answers and even less evidence.

Until yesterday, the name "White Wing," was unknown to us. Those allegedly behind it have no history of violence and no significant criminal records. They have not claimed responsibility, they have made no demands, nor issued any threats. The Government gives us no credible evidence to back their claims. There is nothing to link them to the bombings. They can tell us nothing of the group, its motives or agenda. They simply label them as terrorists and seek to hunt them down.

Are they terrorists? What defines a terrorist? Is it simply an emotive label used by a State to demonise any group that opposes them or possess the courage to refuse to bow down to their demands? State sanctioned violence is called 'war' or 'security measures', violence against a State is called terrorism. What is the difference between a terrorist and a freedom fighter: someone who struggles against unjust oppression to liberate an oppressed people? It is often said that the difference is merely one of perspective. Two sides of the same coin. I refuse to accept that.

In my mind, a freedom fighter is someone who fights for a worthy goal: liberty, equality, justice. Things sorely missing from our society today. These fighters often come from a marginalised or oppressed group, fighting against a more powerful foe such as a government. Their acts may be destructive and violent, but the goal they seek is noble. The point is the goal, not the destruction. If the goal is achieved they rejoice at making the world a better place.

A terrorist is different. The noble goal is incidental, an excuse or justification. Violence is the real point. Destruction is the ultimate goal. Terrorists may mask their true nature by hijacking a popular cause, but do not be deceived. Ask whether they would stop their crusade if liberty or equality was achieved, or whether the fight would continue until the object of their fury was utterly destroyed. A terrorist deliberately targets innocent victims not the security forces. The victims are not collateral damage to some other target; they are the target. It is a strategic choice, a preferred course of action to undermine the social order, the very fabric of society.

Are the White Wing terrorists or freedom fighters? Are they fighting for us or against us? At the moment, I ask you to withhold judgment. But ask yourselves these questions:

Why would previously law-abiding citizens suddenly turn into mass murderers? Where is the evidence to link those men to these crimes? What was their motive? Is it significant that both events took place in the heart of our city, the haunt of the wealthy and powerful of the city? If they weren't responsible, who was, and why?

Most importantly, what will they do next? Time will tell.

**

David followed Luke into the ship. It was a medium sized freighter and the cabins were below the bridge. No one else was awake, so they had a quick breakfast in the galley and then both crashed. David was woken by his phone alert a couple of hours later. He struggled back to wakefulness and peered at the screen. It was a text only message.

"Day trip didn't go as planned. Ran into a bit of trouble. Leg not feeling so good now. J"

David gave a sigh of relief. Things were getting more dangerous day by day. He sat up and rubbed his face. He felt lousy and had a dull headache. He had that dislocated feeling that came from too much stress and too little sleep, and he desperately needed a shower. He struggled up and headed to the bathroom. There was a little shower cubicle in the corner and he turned the water on and jumped in, running the hot water over his head and neck. There was something infinitely relaxing about hot water. He scrubbed himself clean and then got dressed. He had very few clothes with him and everything was creased from being shoved in his bag. He pulled out his staff and his automatic. He stared at them briefly. There was blood on the ends of the staff. More blood on his hands. He put them aside with a sigh. He'd had no choice. He walked into the galley and put on some tea. The little jug was just boiling when he heard a noise behind him. He turned in time to catch Maria as she flung herself at him. He put his arms around her and held her. It felt good.

"I was so worried about you."

He could see her eyes watering up. "No problem. Just got a little delayed in the slums."

"Why were you in the slums?"

"It wasn't by choice. Tea?"

She nodded.

He reluctantly let go of her and poured a couple of cups and they sat down facing each other across a worn, ancient, formica table.

"How did your trip across the city go?" he asked.

She smiled. "Fine. Flirted with a soldier and gave Peter the fright of his life." She laughed. It was a nice sound. She hadn't had much to laugh about recently. She told him the little story of their stop at the checkpoint.

"Yours didn't go as planned I guess?" she said more seriously.

"Not quite."

"David!" Peter and Rebekah walked into the galley. He stood up and gave them both a hug. "We were getting a bit worried. John's not back either."

"He's ok. I got a message from him this morning. They ran into some trouble and he's injured. I'm not sure how that complicates things yet."

"Badly?" Peter asked.

"I don't think so."

"So, what happened to you? Come on, tell us," Rebekah scolded him. David briefly related his problems at the road block, his flight through the slum, and the trip in the hidden compartment of the truck.

"So how is old Ho?" Luke asked from the doorway.

"Looking pretty frail, but his mind's still sharp."

Luke nodded. "John?"

"Ran into some trouble and he's injured, but I don't think it's serious."

"Good."

"Anything from your ChaosPlague, Peter?" David asked. Peter shook his head.

"No, but we've got something back from Sara." David looked momentarily confused. "Sorry, our video expert. She works for the paper and does a little freelance work too. Very, very clever young lady. She uploaded the cleaned-up images and has made you a very nice little video montage out of it."

"And I've found some very nice photos to splice into it." Rebekah put in. "Handy having access to the paper's photo archive."

"She's also done you a mask," Peter added.

"A mask?"

"You're going to have to talk to the people, explain to them simply what they are seeing. And tell them what you want them to do. The city's in turmoil. What they need at the moment is a leader. Someone to galvanise them into action. This is your chance."

David nodded. "No pressure then."

"It's ok. We can help," said Rebekah. "We know you're not exactly the talkative sort."

"Thanks. Can we see what she's done?"

"Sure." Peter said. The screen flicked on across the room.

"Can't you just do that like normal people and use the remote." Rebekah said.

"Where's the fun in that? This is the mask."

A simple face appeared on the screen. David had seen images like it before. A face formed from millions of tiny images. This one seemed to rotate through the colour spectrum as the images changed.

"What are the images that make up the face?" David asked

"Faces. No one and everyone." Peter expanded the image until individual pictures appeared. They were just faces: men, women and children, all colours, all races, all ages. Mostly unknown but the occasional famous face appeared.

"So, when I appear, I represent everyone?"

"Not so dumb after all." Rebekah squeezed his arm.

"Isn't that who we're doing this for? All the people out there." Maria added.

"What else has she got for us?" David asked. If the video from the mall was good, they had all the evidence they needed.

"You're going to like this," said Peter.

The video started to play. They all watched, mesmerised as the images played across the screen.

"Add in these pictures," said Rebekah, as she flicked through some images on the screen, "and it makes a pretty compelling story. I'll put it together so we're ready to go."

"We can put this all over the net: every internet bulletin board, social media site, blog, any media outlet that'll play it. Everywhere." said Peter.

"We'll do that as well, but we need to do this publicly as well. It's not just about getting the evidence out there; it's about how we do it. We need the hackers first," David said flatly.

"Then we're just going to have to wait. I've left a bulletin board message for them. No response so far."

**

David was sitting out on the deck staring out to sea. It was late afternoon and a cool breeze had sprung up, ruffling the deep green of the sea into little choppy waves. He heard a noise behind him and turned to see Maria coming out of the steel hatch and walking toward him. She pulled her hands up into her jumper sleeves as defence against the breeze.

"Want some company?"

"Sure," he smiled.

She sat quietly beside him. "I understand now what you were saying the other day about the sea. It is nice to watch. Almost hypnotic."

"Yeah. Did you know that underneath us is an old part of the city long drowned?" he looked down over the side into the green water.

"Really?"

"Yeah. People think of the old sea wall as being the edge of the city, but it wasn't, there was a whole suburb out past that. As the sea levels rose, they tried to protect it with a wall, but it was hopeless. Then they built a bigger wall closer in, to protect the rest of the city, and surrendered the suburb outside it to the sea. Now that second wall is just about underwater as well.

Maria went quiet, as if debating something internally. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"You can ask, I might answer, depending on the question," he laughed.

"Fair enough. Sometimes people refer to you as "old man, as if you're really old, and you know all this stuff about the olden days, but you don't look old. You don't look much older than me, but Rebekah said you were a lot older. The others just tell me to ask you."

"Inquisitive little thing aren't you. Nice to see they're protecting my privacy," he paused smiling. "A few days ago, I told you about the different species. You can see the differences better than anyone, it seems. One thing I didn't tell you, and one of the main reasons that we don't like humans knowing about us, is that we live a lot longer than ordinary humans. I probably downplayed it that first morning. It's a lot longer. The average life span of a person hasn't really increased for hundreds of years, since the late 21st century in fact. That's just the average though. The poor die at eighty or even less. The rich though, they can get to one-fifty or more, with cloned organs and modern medicine, before they start to deteriorate. Well, their bodies anyway. The minds tend to go first. So far, no one has managed to stop the mind deteriorating."

"So, you're older than that?"

"A lot older, and I have no desire to be turned into a lab rat. It's also why Ballock and the others think that we might be better at running the word than you. We've seen it all, done it all, we have a bit more of a long-term view of things."

"Maybe he's right. We don't seem to have done much of a job at looking after the world." She waved her hands at the sea.

"There is a certain truth in it, but new people have new ideas, new ways of thinking. There are pluses and minuses. A long-term view can be beneficial, but so can innovation and change. Besides, if humanity is to cede its destiny to us, then don't you think they should have an informed say in the matter, not have it taken from them?" He paused.

"You didn't answer my question," Maria chided.

"No. No, I didn't. I'm nearly two and a half thousand years old." Maria just gaped at him. "You can close your mouth now," he laughed.

"Rebekah told me that," she confessed, but I didn't believe her. "I can't even begin to imagine the things you would have seen. Two and a half thousand years! Are the others that old?"

"No. Nowhere near it. Luke is actually only in his twenties. John is about half my age."

"So, you're the oldest person on Earth?"

"Not quite. There are at least two older than me that I know about: Zhukov and my oldest friend Michael Albus. Gabe is nearly as old as me."

"Michael Albus. That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that name before?"

"You've probably heard it many times on the news. He's well known now as one of the richest men on Earth. Michael is a bit better at business than I am."

"A bit?"

"Quite a bit," he conceded. Maria laughed.

"What was it like?"

"What?"

"Living all those years ago. Before phones, and computers and cars. Wow, you would have been around before even electricity."

"Yep. When I was born, it was horses and carts; cob and thatched houses; and oil lamps. It was simpler, quieter time. There were a lot fewer people."

"It would have been nice."

"Sometimes. It was different. It was much harder in some ways. You had to work hard just to survive. People died younger. There was no modern medicine, so people died of infections, some women died in childbirth."

"Where did you grow up?"

"In England. In a little village that no longer exists." He grew quiet for a moment as the memories flooded back. Then he shook himself, coming back to the present. "I've lived all over the world since then, moving from place to place when the fact that I didn't change became a little hard to explain."

"Have you been married?"

David looked closely at her as if weighing up what he should say. "Yes, twice. Once when I was very young and once to a beautiful Italian girl. That was a long time ago."

"They were human?"

"My first wife Elena wasn't. She was like me. She died in a fire two years after we married. My second wife Aurelia was human."

"Since then?"

"You're very nosy, you know that?"

"Aha. Yep," Maria laughed.

"There hasn't been anyone special for a very long time," he said.

"That must be hard on you."

"What? Being alone? Not really."

"Not just that. Watching as everyone around you changes and dies, and yet you still go on."

"It can be, but you learn to treasure the people you meet and love, for as long as you can and to be thankful that they have been in your life. I guess that's true of any life though." They fell silent for a while, just watching the waves. There was a noise behind them, and Luke popped out of a hatch with two glasses and a bottle of wine.

"Here you go, you two. Something to keep you going for a while."

David lifted a questioning eyebrow at him and got a smirk.

"Dinner in a couple of hours. Peter said to tell you nothing from the ChaosPlague yet."

"Thanks."

"I think we're being set up." Maria commented.

"Really, what gave you that idea?" David screwed the top off the bottle and poured her a glass. They fell to chatting and laughing as the sun fell below the horizon.

18: Plans

It was dark when Peter came out onto the deck. "Sorry you two. David, we need you. They've made contact." They all rushed back inside.

The familiar hiss of white noise and static on the screen greeted them. A voice spoke "Hello, White Wing."

"Good to hear from you. You have an answer for me?" David asked.

"Straight to business then. Yes, we'll help."

"Can you do what I asked?"

"We can get you access to the billboards if you give us the video files. The best time is rush hour. Max disruption. Lots of eyes on the boards, lots of people on their way home. We can also have some fun with the traffic management system. That one was easy." The voice laughed.

"I just need you to turn everything red at the right time and keep it that way so the marchers can get into the city and the police can't move around easily."

"Red is our favourite colour."

"What about the police comms?"

"Nah. All hard wired and encrypted. Love to get in there, but no can do. That one you have to do yourself man."

David thought of John and the uncertain state of his injury. Maybe there was another way around the problem. "What about the reactor. Can you shut it down?"

"What the fuck! Are you crazy? I don't want that thing going nuclear on me."

"It's a fusion reactor. It can't blow up. It's not like the old ones."

"Oh, Ok. Nah, we can't get to that. The reactor is isolated from the net." Interesting, David thought. They'd obviously tried.

"What about the security system protecting it?"

"Shut it down?"

"That would be great."

"Nah."

"What about setting it off?"

"Why would you want to set it off?"

"As a distraction. Set it off at one point, then another. Get them chasing their tails."

The voice laughed. The idea obviously appealed to him. "I'll get back to you."

"Peter will send you the video we want played. Can you play it at 5.30 p.m. tomorrow?" David asked them.

"Yeah, on the button. Every screen in town. You can get it up on the net and we'll put it everywhere as well."

"Thank you."

"What about the traffic?" the voice enquired.

"Seven thirty p.m. on the fourteenth is when we march."

"Done."

"Can I ask a question?" David asked.

"Yeah, depends on the question though." David smiled, thinking back to the conversation he'd had with Maria earlier in the evening.

"What persuaded you to help us?"

"The Government spooks have been arresting anti-government bloggers and closing down websites. Anyone who speaks out is getting silenced. That ain't cool. The net is free. It's time to create some chaos."

"Thanks, we appreciate it."

"Have fun man." The screen faded.

"Well that went better than I expected," David said after a pause.

'Hmm..." Peter spoke up. "I suspect it's more a case of our mutual interests aligning for the time being than anything, but we need them, so we're in no position to be choosy."

**

Luke spoke up. "You need to lead the march, David. John's hitting the reactor. I'll deal with the comms unit."

"No." David voice was flat. "Look, I appreciate the offer Luke, but that's a controlled building. It'll be full of armed police, maybe even military. It's too dangerous. You can march, but you're not doing that."

"You don't mind having John attacking the reactor. That's got to be one of the most secure places around. What's the difference?"

"John's got experience. He's a soldier. He knows how take care of himself."

"You can't keep me safe. No one's safe anymore. And you can't order me around."

"No!"

"What about if he's with me?" Gabe came into the room. He was grinning. "I'll look after the boy."

"Boy!" Luke's indignation was drowned out by everyone surging up to welcome the new arrival.

"About time you came out of hiding," David said as he embraced Gabe.

"I can't let you guys have all the fun. I hear you're organising a little stroll through the city to have a wee chat with the Prime Minister and all my old friends in the force."

"Something like that," David smiled at the understatement. "How did you know where we were?"

"Peter contacted me. You need all the help you can get."

"You're not wrong there. Happy to have you back."

"Seriously though David. Luke is right. There's nowhere to hide any anymore. This is everyone's fight."

"He's never been in a serious firefight. He has no training. He'd be attacking a fortified building full of armed men. No."

"I remember you doing some fairly risky, even stupid things when you were young and inexperienced. I recall you leading a charge against a Roman cohort with less than a hundred men. They were better armed, better organised and outnumbered you five to one."

"We still won."

"Yes, you did. But I think now you would consider such a tactic fairly risky."

"Now I know better."

"And how did you get the experience? I'll take responsibility, but you can't hide him away."

David stared hard at Gabe. Gabe met his stare coolly.

"Ok, but I can't say I'm happy." He turned to Luke. "Stay out of harm's way and don't do anything stupid."

"Ok." Getting what he wanted, Luke suddenly looked uncertain.

"How's Paulo?" David asked.

"He took a hell of a beating: fractured eye socket, two broken ribs, quite a few cracked ones, one of the ribs punctured his lung. I got him to the clinic in the slum, but he's out of the fight for the time being."

"He'll be ok?"

"Yeah, yeah. He'll recover."

David turned to Peter. "Peter, if these two lunatics want to attack a military building, can you see what you can get in the way of schematics for them? The Council and police must have plans. See who the contractors were. Maybe we can get the information off their servers to see what we'll be up against.

"Sure. I'll see what I can find. How up to date it is, is another question."

"Thanks. Let me know when you have something and we'll see if we can formulate some sort of a plan."

Peter nodded.

"Now, I need to think," David said as he walked out of the room.

"I don't think he's all that happy with us at the moment boy," Gabe said. Luke just looked at him darkly.

"What?" Gabe said pretending confusion. The others just laughed.

**

Maria found David standing at the stern of the ship; arms crossed, staring out to sea.

"Are you ok?" she asked.

"Not really," he sighed. "A few days ago, Eric and I helped a young family with a little girl escape when a demonstration was broken up by the police. They were just idealistic kids. It was a peaceful demonstration and the police attacked them with plastic bullets, batons and dogs."

"That was good, you saved them."

"Three people died in that demonstration. An elderly man had a heart attack when he was covered by one of those nets. I worry that this is going to all go wrong and people are going to die, and it's going to be my fault. I worry about all of you."

"People are already protesting. They're already dying. It's not your fault. You're trying to put an end to this, once and for all."

David snorted. "You have no idea how many times I've heard that. How many times people have thought they'd fought for the last time, only to do it all over again. History does repeat. All too bloody often."

"What's the alternative then?"

"I kill Ballock. His influence on the Prime Minister ceases."

"And you throw away all your ideals. You are not a murderer."

"How do you know?"

"I think I have a pretty good idea."

"I've killed lots of people."

Maria stared at him shocked. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You've outright killed people in cold blood. Assassinated them?"

"No, of course not."

"But you're prepared to do that now?"

"For the greater good."

"You don't believe that. Anyway, that would make you no better than him. He killed all those innocent people as a means to an end. If we're going to do this; we do it the right way. You kill him, you have no idea where that will end. No good thing ever came from an evil act. What about Ghandi and your Million Man March? I looked them up, by the way. I think you're right. We can do this."

David suddenly looked tired and shrugged. "I hope you're right."

**

David called John later that evening.

John's face appeared on the screen "Is this secure?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yeah. How's the leg?"

"I've had worse. It won't stop me."

"What happened on your recon?"

John related the story to him quickly. "That reactor is well protected, and they're going to be on even higher alert now, I'm afraid."

"Is it still doable? I don't want a suicide mission."

"It's not going to be easy, but yeah, it's still doable. We've got a few ideas. How's the rest of the plan going?" John asked.

"It's coming together. The hackers have come to the party. The video with the evidence and our call to march go out at 5.30 tomorrow on every billboard in the city. Peter and Rebekah are getting ready to post it on every site they and their people can think of, and it's going out to the news channels."

"They'll never play it on the news channels."

"If it's everywhere, it becomes news in its own right. Even if the government deny it. It'll go global in no time; right or wrong, it'll get reported everywhere. The hackers have also said they can turn all the traffic lights red just before we march. Stop everything dead."

"Ok. That's good. Can we trust them?" John was nodding.

David shrugged. "They're doing it for their own reasons I guess, but at the moment, those reasons seem to align with ours. Peter thinks we can trust them mostly, but perhaps not entirely. Couple of other things. They say they can disrupt the alarms at the nuclear plant."

"That'd help. We could set off the alarm on the far fence just before we come through the front door." John said.

"I thought that too. The second is a bad bit of news though, they can't do anything with the police and military comms. The drones will still be up."

"Oh well. Can't be helped."

"Maybe it can. Gabe is here. He wants to lead a team to attack the building," David said.

"That place will be as well defended as the reactor. You're going to need some assistance and some fire power."

"I'm trying to avoid deaths if I can. The idea is to do this peacefully."

"Just as well we have Carl then, isn't it?" John smirked.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Carl knows more about weaponry that anyone I know, and he has shall we say, a slightly larcenous streak."

"Ok. So, what's he 'acquired' off the back of a truck?"

"Ever heard of a Firestorm?"

David shook his head.

"Me neither 'til now. Carl gave me a brief run down and I'm going to have a look later. Think of a Taser without wires, multiple shot. Puts a man down with one shot."

David's eyes went wide. "Sounds ideal."

"Yeah, well maybe, but they are a bit dangerous. One shot knocks a man out; multiple hits can kill him. They were designed for crowd control, but were banned because of the risk and never used. Safer than bullets though. Look, he can get enough of them for both my team and the one hitting the comms building. I'll send some guys to meet up with Gabe."

"Sounds good. I've been thinking more about how we tackle this. We pulled the schematics for the comms building. The whole building's alarmed and secure. We can assume armed guards. If you turn off the power, there will be a brief period of time where the system reboots. My thinking is that the second team holds off until the power goes out, then blows the doors. They'll have a few minutes until the alarms and the power reboot on the emergency systems, so the team has a chance to get to the control room and the drone pilots. We take them out with flash bangs or your Firestorms and then just destroy the equipment. We'll have the roads blocked, the Core dark, and if the comms are down, they'll be blind and they can't co-ordinate."

John smiled.

19: The Broadcast - July 12

The streets were snarled up with rush hour traffic. Everything was down to a crawl. People sat in cars, some angry, most bored and frustrated. On the side of buildings and along the highways, anywhere people walked or drove, billboards flashed up advertisements for the latest electronic goods, beauty products, medical treatment or entertainment. Mostly they were ignored: just part of the ever-present urban scenery.

At 5.30 p.m. precisely, virtually every screen in the city went blank and silent. At first no one really noticed; it barely registered on their consciousness, but then the screens sprang to life with a haze of white noise. People stopped walking, turned to look out their car windows. Soldiers and police looked up at the checkpoints and the barricades. The city held its breath. The haze continued just long enough for people to notice but not long enough to lose their attention. Then a white feather materialised out of the haze. The feather morphed slowly into the indistinct face of a man that seemed to be changing constantly but at the same time was motionless.

"We are the White Wing. Your Prime Minister has lied to you. We have been accused of terrible crimes, which we did not commit. The Prime Minister has told you we are terrorists, that we have killed innocent people. That is a lie."

Images started to show on the screen of Marco dragging what looked to be a body, in the grounds of the University. Marco looked up at the camera for just a second and the shot froze there, allowing everyone to clearly see his face, followed by an image of a man crucified on a post. A graphic, horrifying image. Now the screens had everyone's attention.

"The Prime Minister's associates are murderers. This man is in the employ of Simon Ballock, the Prime Minister's chief advisor.

A picture showed Marco holding the door of a car as Ballock exited. The picture was crystal-clear. There was no doubt it was the same man.

"This same man is one of the bombers of the Hill Street Mall."

Images started to play of Sven and Marco entering the mall dressed in the stolen uniforms and then exiting, their faces clearly visible in the enhanced video. These were followed by horrifying pictures of the mall burning, people screaming and fleeing the flames, then burned and dying victims outside.

"That door leads to the service area where the bomb exploded, killing hundreds of innocent people. These men, dressed in stolen uniforms, are both in the employ of Simon Ballock."

A picture showed of Sven and Marco, now in suits, standing next to Ballock, and then another of Sven and Ballock standing on a stage with the Prime Minister while he gave a speech.

"The truth is that the Prime Minister and his friends arranged these murders and framed us for it to give themselves an excuse to impose martial law. The Prime Minister has lied to you. He has stolen your rights; he has stolen your freedom. The Prime Minister and his cronies must resign." David's voice started to rise, to grow in depth and volume. "I call on you all to take to the streets two days from now— on the fourteenth at 7.30 p.m. —to march peacefully on the Prime Minister's offices to demand his resignation. We want no violence; we want justice for the victims; justice and freedom for you all.

I understand if you are unable or too frightened of the violence of the Prime Minister's police force to march, but you too can give voice to your demands in other ways. Do not go to work, do not go to the shops or to the malls, withdraw your support for this regime. Instead, go on the net and voice your support, voice your outrage. I understand that you will all be frightened, but we will be with you, we will clear the way. We will make the city stand still in witness to our protest. If you are silent, if you do nothing then you have surrendered. Evil has triumphed. Join us. Take back your city. Take back your rights. Take back your freedom."

The face started to unravel and dissolve back into static.

**

Simultaneously with the broadcast of the video, copies of the video were posted on every billboard, social media site, and news website in the country. The video quickly went viral. Suddenly, everyone in the world had an opinion, everyone was outraged.

In the city Administrative Offices, Simon Ballock sat dumbfounded in front of his screen as the video was picked up by the global news channels. His phone pinged constantly with messages, and his office system announced call after call. After a moment, he shook himself. This was unexpected, but he could deal with it. It needed to be crushed, and quickly.

His door banged open. The Prime Minister stormed in, his face as red as a beetroot.

"Simon, what the bloody hell is happening? They're saying you and I orchestrated those bombings. Those are your men in that video. Tell me that's not true!"

Ballock was back on track now. "Prime Minister, it's all a lie. They've doctored the video. It's just a piece of propaganda by these terrorists. We need to get these videos down and issue an immediate statement denying everything and stating that these are all lies and the videos are fake."

The Prime Minister stared very hard at Ballock. "This is not just some terrorist attack. These guys aren't just out to create carnage. This is a direct challenge to me. Me, personally. My authority, my office. They are out to force me to stand down." He paused to get his anger under control. "Do what you have to do Simon, but by God you'd better not be lying to me about those videos, or you'll pay. Get it done. Get hold of the Commissioner and the others too, we need to stop this march." He turned and stalked out of the room slamming the door behind him.

Ballock stared at the door, deep in thought. Then he picked up his phone. "Find out how this happened and then get over here."

**

Sven and Marco appeared a couple of hours later. Both men looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"How the fuck did they get those videos of you? How the fuck were you stupid enough to even get yourselves on camera?" He turned to Marco, eyes boring into him. "And you, you stupid bastard. I was angry enough that you killed that art teacher without my knowledge, but that you were stupid enough to get yourself photographed carrying the post. Fuck!" Ballock struggled to contain his anger. A blood vessel pulsed in his temple.

The two men looked at each other; they'd never seen Ballock like this. Sven swallowed deeply. "Simon, we couldn't turn off all the cameras at the mall, there are hundreds of them and a large internal security team. But after the bombing, the Police collected all the video feeds as part of the investigation. The ATG took over the investigation and our man on the inside, who headed the investigation was supposed to purge all the evidence off the file. He did purge it."

"Well he didn't do the job right, did he?" Ballock spat out the words.

"He swears he did, we think that the files got copied while they were in possession of the Police."

"Who the hell?.... shit! Gabriel!" Ballock picked up a stapler and hurled it against the wall. "Arrrgh," he growled in frustration.

"He was one of the first on the scene. He has access to that level of security. The computer guys are checking to see if he copied the files," Sven said

"Of course, he did." Ballock muttered. He glanced at his watch. "I have a press conference with the Prime Minister in a few minutes to deny all of this, but I doubt we can contain it. Get everyone organised. If that march goes ahead, I want everyone we can spare in there,"

"Why?" asked Marco.

Ballock just stared at him as if he was an idiot. "Because you're going to make damn sure that the march gets out of hand, and the police and the security forces have every justification in the world to use lethal force. David is not going to ruin the plan, not when we're this close. The Indian experiment has just got going, and things are moving quickly. We're not going to allow him to derail it. Am I clear?"

Marco nodded.

"Marco get out. Sven, wait." He glanced again at his watch. Ballock went over to the mirror and took a deep breath to gain control, and then he straightened his tie. "Marco has stuffed up for the last time. Once we're through this ̶ if we get through this ̶ kill him."

Sven just nodded and walked out.

**

The Prime Minister stood before the mob of reporters. Bright lights shone into his eyes as cameras glared at him like so many mechanical cyclopes'. He knew he should feel tense. He knew his heart should be racing and his palms should be sweaty, but he felt uncharacteristically calm and under control with Ballock standing next to him. There wasn't that much to say. The videos were faked. Just another attempt at undermining the city by the terrorists when their bombing campaign had failed to shake the resolve of the people and the Government. If he was calm, Ballock was positively glacial, staring down the reporter from behind half closed eyelids. There was something reptilian about the man when he did that. He couldn't help feeling that there was something very wrong about this whole thing. The thought melted away. Eventually the reporters went away, unsatisfied and unconvinced, but it was the best they could do.

As they strode from the press conference, Ballock said. "I've organised a meeting with the Police Commissioner, and the heads of the Security Forces, and Media Relations for 9.00 a.m. tomorrow, your office. They will need some time to formulate plans in case this march gets some momentum."

"We have protests and marches almost every day from those ungrateful bastards. We'll just deal with it the same way we deal with them all. Pull everything out, get every man we have on the street." The Prime Minister strode away leaving Ballock in the hallway watching his retreating back.

20: Meeting - July 13

Prime Minister Graham arrived at the meeting precisely at nine o'clock. He was always a stickler for punctuality and insisted on it for his staff. Ballock had summonsed the heads of the Police, Security Service and Media Liaison to the Government buildings for the meeting to plan a response to the broadcast. They all knew to be there early, and they stood as the Prime Minister entered. He nodded a greeting and motioned for them to sit. Ballock stood at the back of the room, arms folded defensively. The Prime Minister looked around the room, noting the serious expressions on their faces. They were concerned about this one. Rightly so, he thought.

"Morning," he said in acknowledgement. "Thanks for being here. Right people, we have a serious challenge on our hands. We need to get control of the situation. We need to put plans in place to deal with this march. Ms Riley, let's start with you." He turned to the head of Media Liaison. "What are the media saying? How did our press release go across? Do people actually buy their video? And don't sugar-coat it for me Sarah. I want the truth."

Sarah Riley was a bubbly, vivacious blonde who came across as down-to-earth and approachable, but she was shrewd and very good at her job. She had a reputation for being very direct. She looked uncomfortable at first and then rallied to give him a smile.

"The recognised media outlets are being circumspect. It's a hell of a story for the media: a terrorist group attacking the city and then coming out to blame it on you with fake video evidence. It's not just an attack but a direct challenge to your authority." The Prime Minister flicked a quick glance at Ballock.

"And the rest of the net ̶ the bloggers, social media?" he asked.

"Well, they're never friendly towards you anyway. They've jumped on the story for all its worth."

"Overall?"

"The videos were pretty compelling: well put together, without any obvious flaws. Whoever did the work was a very competent journalist and a very skilful video editor.

"Any ideas who?"

"A few. One in particular, but she's gone to ground. No one knows where she is. Whoever they are, they have very good connections in the jacker and hacker communities. That trick with the billboards was impressive. They also had it posted on every conceivable site almost simultaneously. There had to be a big team working on it."

"You sound impressed!" the Commissioner broke in, sounding offended. He was a gruff old veteran of the Police Force, with forty years' experience.

Riley rounded on him. "I am, in a professional sense. It was well executed to give maximum coverage, and focussed on the people most open to receiving the message. There are a lot of disillusioned and disenfranchised people out there, and these guys are playing to that audience."

"Who?" Ballock demanded from the end of the room.

"Rebekah Oxford. Editor of the City Times. Married to Peter Oxford, a tech millionaire. She's a jacker, so she has the experience and the connections. They also lead the Hive."

Ballock nodded in agreement.

"What steps can we take to turn this around, reduce the impact?" the Prime Minister asked.

"You've faced the press already. That went well. We can't be seen as hiding anything. We need to push the message that these guys are killers. Get plenty of coverage out there about the bombings and their aftermath. Human interest stories, how it affected ordinary people on a personal level. Give the people someone they can relate to. Show these guys, not as heroes fighting for the people, but as killers."

The Prime Minister nodded. "Good. Thanks Sarah. I can always rely on you to tell it to me straight, as it is, even if it's not what I want to hear. Get our media response underway immediately. We don't have much time, ̶ only two days to nip this in the bud." He turned to the Commissioner. "Bob?"

Bob Collins sat up straight and smoothed his uniform. "I've had a team of my best men looking at it overnight. We don't want this to get out of hand. The last thing we need is large-scale riots and looting, so preventative measures need taking: we'll deploy men outside your offices in full riot gear and we'll ring fence the whole plaza, backed up by water cannon and dogs; we'll have men at every main intersection on the roads into the central city, and put them outside all key government offices." He counted off each item on his fingers. "We'll lock the city centre down tighter than a drum," he said emphatically.

He paused for a moment. "It's hard to say how many people will march, maybe ten thousand in a single column. If it looks like gaining momentum, then we'll try to kettle them to contain the damage."

"What do you mean by kettle them?" Sarah asked.

"It just means we'll seal the roads and contain them in a single area. It stops wide spread damage, we just wait until they tire, and then mop them up."

"And if it's bigger than that and more spread out?" Sarah asked.

"We don't anticipate that, based on past experience."

"I'm not sure I share your confidence, Commissioner."

The Commissioner bristled at that challenge to his competence. "We've dealt with plenty of protests over the years. We know how to deal with them."

"Ok you two," the Prime Minister stepped in. "We need to work together on this one. Bob, we all recognise your knowledge and experience here, but let's err on the side of caution with this one. Please continue."

The Commissioner gave Sarah a dark look and then straightened his tie and pushed his shoulders back. "We'll have all the cameras and drones looking for these guys. The moment they so much as show their faces, we'll have SWAT teams ready to go, to pick them up."

"Snipers?" Ballock asked.

"No!" the Prime Minister responded angrily, rounding on him. "We will not use live ammunition on unarmed protesters."

"On the terrorists. We take them out the moment they show their faces."

"And provoke a full-scale riot. No!" Graham glared at Ballock then turned back to the Commissioner, "Non-lethal methods only Bob. I'm not shooting at my own people."

"Understood, Sir. I'll have snatch squads ready to grab the terrorists the moment we identify them."

Graham struggled to get himself under control. Maintaining order was critical, but he would not resort to killing. "Continue, Bob."

"We're also still conducting our searches of all known dissident affiliates to try to locate them. No luck so far. They seem to have gone to ground. The involvement of this Oxford couple ties in with our intelligence. We've had the Hive under surveillance, but it's a big complex. The residents have all been leaving over the last couple of days. We've questioned a couple of jackers who did a runner from it on the 10th who confirm the suspects were there. We raided it that night, but the place was deserted. We're closing in on them. We'll have a good look at the Oxfords' assets and business; it might give us some leads. Sounds like they might be funding the operation. At the very least, we can get them on aiding and abetting, and conspiracy. Finally, we're working with the Security Force," he nodded toward the head of the Security Force, "to screen the whole city centre for bombs."

"Great, thanks Bob. Joe?"

Commander Joe Burke was a decorated military hero, complete with a full chest of medals to prove it. He stood up to speak, and despite being in his seventies still had the ramrod-straight posture of a soldier. "We've already deployed a thousand soldiers onto the streets; manning checkpoints and searching people and vehicles. We have APC's patrolling the streets, especially in the slum districts, which are the usual flash points. I have another two thousand in barracks, ready to be deployed on your word, should we need to restore order. Bob and I felt that having a more obvious military presence on the street might inflame the situation, but we have more men and material at your disposal. We have also brought out some assets that we can use to clear the streets if it becomes necessary. Non-lethal." He raised his hands palm forward to calm any objections from the PM.

"Thanks Joe. Simon: any developments on the videos?"

"The IT people at Global Media are trying to determine how the hackers took control of their billboards. They are being a bit evasive on whether they can stop it happening again, so I think we have to assume that it could. At the moment, they're fighting a virus implanted in the system that's randomly making pictures of the white feather appear on the billboards. The comms people are trying to take down all the copies of the video, but we're getting serious push-back from the civil liberties groups, and as fast as we take them down, they pop back up. I think really, it's a waste of time anyway, as the damage was done last night. It's been confirmed that a rogue police officer was responsible for leaking the original footage. The video has then been digitally altered to make it look like our men in the pictures."

"They're faked then?" The Prime Minister's question was pointed.

Ballock met his stare coolly. "Yes."

"Has the officer been interrogated about what he did with the evidence?"

"No. The same officer broke a known associate of the bombers out of police custody and escaped. They were chased with a drone. The car they were in was destroyed, but they'd already escaped."

"How the hell did this happen?" the Prime Minister turned to the Commissioner.

"We had no idea the officer was connected to the bombers. He was a senior detective. The uniform section had no reason to stop him leaving with a prisoner. Anyway, this particular prisoner was in the custody of Simon's men who were supposedly interrogating him!"

"The renegade cop walked the suspect through a crowded squad room and out the front door!" Ballock fired back.

"Enough!" shouted the Prime Minister. "It doesn't matter whose bloody fault it is, just find him, find them both. This is not just some small terrorist cell. They have a lot of support and resources behind them."

Commander Burke spoke up. "I don't understand the use of the white feather: it means you're a coward. Why use such a negative symbol? What are they trying to say?"

"The feather's association with the White Wing name is obvious, though it's an odd choice. I don't know why they chose the symbol of cowardice as their emblem, but the feather symbol is gaining hold out there. I've seen it spray painted on walls all over. They can't have been oblivious to its connotations," Sarah answered. "However, it's not the first time a symbol's meaning has been turned on its head. Think of the Nazi's corruption of the swastika, a symbol that was previously used in Buddhism to represent 'eternal cycling'.

The Prime Minister grunted. "Why they chose a white feather is the least of our worries. Thanks everyone. Keep me posted."

21: Firestorm

The contractor's van pulled into the storage unit car park, and Carl leaned out of the window to punch in the access code. After the metal gate had rolled open, they drove through and parked it next to a unit at the far end of one of the rows. Carl hopped out, opened the heavy steel padlock, and pulled up the roller door. John came out of the passenger side door with his hat pulled down low. He walked a little gingerly on his wounded leg into the unit. Carl pulled the door down behind them and flicked on a solar lantern. The unit had big, steel racks on either side, on which stood neatly stacked plastic chests. Carl walked over, heaved one of the chests down, and pulled it into the open area under the light. He flipped back the lid and they looked down at the weapons, each tightly packed in foam. John pulled one of the weapons out and hefted it, feeling the weight. The Firestorms were like big, blocky handguns: remarkably light for their size. Carl pulled another out.

"Real easy to use. Dial on the back has three positions: off, single shot and multi shot. When you see one of these babies in multi shot, you'll know why it's called a Firestorm. Think your own personal lighting storm. 'Course, it lasts a few seconds and then the gun's dead and needs a recharge, but it'll stop a riot in no time. You sweep it across the field of fire to minimise anyone taking multiple hits."

John clicked the heavy dial through its positions. It gave a reassuringly solid sound as it moved through each position. No chance of a mistake.

"How does it work?"

"Cross between a laser and a taser. Basically, you have an ultra-violet laser that fires a 5-joule pulse lasting just 0.4 pico seconds and then pulses every few milliseconds. That gives you a momentary power of 10 million megawatts. The pulses ionise the air producing a plasma channel. The gun then uses the plasma channel to conduct the electricity. It delivers a 50,000-volt shock similar to a Taser." Carl was waving his arms around and grinning like a maniac.

John just looked at him, "You just love this kind of stuff don't you."

"Yep. Pure nerd."

John just shook his head.

"You know what the best part is?" Carl asked.

"No, tell me."

"Not only does this baby produce your own personal lightning storm; it creates its own thunder as well. The heating of the laser creates a sonic boom."

John couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "How many?"

"Two boxes. Plenty for both teams, I reckon."

John nodded.

Carl went and got a smaller box. He opened it up briefly. Flash bangs. "I know what you said about minimising casualties, but I'm not comfortable with us going in there and being seriously out-gunned. We need some grenades, Semtex for the bombs, and my old favourites: the rocket launchers." John just looked at him.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

"You are seriously disturbed."

"Look, if I had my way, we'd go in there with everything we had. I'm not ready to die just yet."

John nodded. "Yep. Bring them."

**

Later that day, a small truck carrying a load of fruit pulled up in the hard stand area of the docks. Three men got out and walked over to the ship. They were met at the gangplank.

"Can I help you?" Gabe asked. He was keeping watch on deck.

"Delivery for Gabe. Got some fruit for him."

Gabe motioned for them to come aboard and showed them into the common room.

"You Gabe?" the leader asked.

"Sure am. You?" Gabe asked in return.

"Kurt. This is Franko and Munch." He indicated his companions. "Carl sent us, said you needed a bit of help. Also sent a few supplies. We have a few more boys coming in later."

Gabe shook hands. "Good to have you along. Did he tell you what the objective is?"

"Yeah. Not easy. What have you got planned?"

Gabe waved them to a seat. "Let me show you."

They had been arguing over the tactics for about twenty minutes when David walked in. He smiled. "Hey Kurt. Good to see you. I see John dragged you into this."

"Hey David," he stood and they shook hands. "He didn't have to try too hard. It's about time someone stood up to Government. Saw the video. The city's ready to explode. The people just needed someone to lead them. Besides I have a personal beef with the security forces: beat the shit out of my young nephew. We're lucky to still have him."

"Sorry to hear that but glad to have you along. We need all the help we can get."

"Yeah. I think Gabe's right on this one, the timing is critical. It all really depends on John. If he can't knock out the power, then we're going to take too long to get through the building security. The police will regroup, and we will get nailed. We need to be in and out in about five minutes."

"Doable?" David asked.

"If the power goes out, and Murphy doesn't decide to fuck with us, just. I'd rather not have to fight my way out of there. It's not a fight we would win."

"We need you guys to take out the comms. With the cameras down, and drone grounded, they're blind. They can't organise their forces."

"They don't need too much co-ordination," Gabe pointed out. They know exactly where you're going. You're just going to walk straight into an army of riot police."

"If there are enough people out there, and we don't provoke them, then I'm confident that we'll be alright."

"And you think Ballock won't have people out there trying to agitate?" Gabe asked.

" 'Course he will. There are going to be some problems. I know that. It's unavoidable. We've just got to try to keep a lid on it. I don't want a riot. I don't want any more deaths."

"Ballock's hands are already dripping. Anything that happens is not on your head," Gabe said bluntly.

Kurt spoke up. "What's the plan when you're there?"

"I'm going to besiege the building until the Prime Minister resigns and takes Ballock with him; reins in the police and lifts martial law; and agrees to supply power to everyone at a fair price from the reactor."

"That's all?" Kurt barked a laugh.

"You think I should ask for more?"

"Why not? The Police Commissioner needs to go as well. For my nephew."

"Fair enough."

**

Night had fallen, a cool breeze had sprung up, and rain clouds threatened from the sea. Maria opened the hatch and walked down to the stern of the ship. She heard him before she saw him. David was moving slowly through the 'warm down' of his martial arts practice. Metal glinted in the moonlight from the ends of his staff. She saw now the staff had blades at each end and David had them unsheathed. She sat on one of the metal hatches to watch him. He continued in the stylised routine for a few more minutes and then he replaced the covers on the blades, set the staff aside and began doing tai chi. "You should try this some time. It's very relaxing." Although his back was toward her, he must have known she was there all along.

"Ok. It always looks cool. I'll give it a go." She came over and stood next to him. "First take your shoes off."

"But the deck's cold!" she said.

"Yeah, but you need to feel the surface underneath you. Stand with your feet the same width apart as your shoulders and slightly bend your knees. You're trying to feel grounded."

"Ok."

"Now do this." He led her through a simple set of exercises.

After a few minutes, she said, "I don't think I'm getting this."

"Sure you are. It takes a lot of practice and it's a lot harder than it looks."

She turned to him "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"

"Of course. When the time comes, I'm sure I'll be scared."

"I thought you'd been in loads of battles."

"That's why I'll be scared: I've seen what can happen." He paused for a moment and then looked at her carefully. "I'm sorry to ask you this, but will you come with me on the march tomorrow? It could turn ugly and I wouldn't ask unless I had to."

"Well, with an offer like that how can I refuse?"

He smiled and looked at his feet. "I'd rather you stayed here out of trouble, or marched well away from me, but I need you. Ballock will put men into the march. They'll be trying to provoke trouble, cause a riot. He'll be looking for an excuse to use force. I want you to try to spot the trouble makers. He'll use the hybrids. They like that sort of thing."

She came and stood in front of him and looked up into his eyes "I'll be right there next to you. I was always going to be. You didn't need to ask."

"Thank you."

She stretched up and kissed him on the lips. He held her gaze for a moment and then wrapped his arms gently around her, pulling her close. Her body felt good to him. It was like a dam broke in him and he kissed her back passionately.

"Come on," she whispered. She took his hand and led him back inside the ship.

22: The March - July 14 - Bastille Day

David woke early, his nerves wouldn't let him sleep any longer. His thoughts and doubts over the plans kept spinning around in his head, getting nowhere but never stopping. He turned over and lay there watching Maria sleeping beside him. Her soft golden aura was glowing in the dark. He recalled what Ballock had said; that she looked like Aurelia. She did, he supposed, possibly more than he wanted to admit: the same long, brown hair with a bit of a curl, the same hazel eyes. She even had some of the fire that Aurelia had been notorious for. Eventually, she stirred. Her eyes opened, and she smiled up at him.

"Couldn't sleep?" she asked sleepily.

"Oh, I slept well. Until dawn anyway."

She moved over and kissed him. "Good morning. Do you want to get dressed and go and get a cup of tea?"

"In a minute." He reached out and pulled her closer.

Afterwards, they lay together, her head on his chest. "It's nice to listen to your heartbeat," she said. She looked up at him, "You have a good heart, in every sense."

"I'm not sure about that sometimes," he replied.

She pulled herself up to face him. "I am. Remember, I can see your aura. There isn't a hint of black in it. Even when you get angry. It's pure. You're a good man. Trust yourself."

He laughed gently. "I'm supposed to be the old, wise one around here."

She laughed and lay back down on his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart.

They walked into the common room a little after 7.00 a.m. Everyone was already up, but no one looked up at their entrance. David stopped and looked at them all.

"Ok. Don't do this." They all laughed, breaking the brief awkward moment. Maria looked at the floor, her face bright red.

Rebekah came over holding two cups of tea for them both. "Morning. You know this is a ship. The walls are just a thin layer of steel."

"Can't say that actually occurred to me at the time." David gave her a kiss on the forehead and took a cup of tea from her. "Pity it's not real coffee."

"Oh no, don't start that again," Peter said. "You're just trying to change the subject."

"Yep."

"What's the coffee thing?" asked Kurt. "This is ok." He held up his mug.

"No, no, no," said Peter "you'll get him started. David has this thing that none of us know what real coffee tasted like because he's the only one who's tasted the non-GM variety. The old stuff doesn't grow in the warm climate and he thinks this is awful. So, he drinks tea."

"It is awful," David said. Pleased that everyone was in a good mood.

"Tastes ok to me," said Kurt.

"Let's watch the news," said Peter jumping up, "then we won't get the lecture." He flicked on the screen. Images of sick people on gurneys lining hospital corridors filled the screen.

Now we're going to go to our India correspondent:

Mahesh can you update on the latest developments? How are the authorities reacting to the outbreak?

Mahesh was nodding on the screen, waiting for the question to come through on his earpiece. A surgical mask dangled around his neck. Thanks Cathy. The hospitals in New Delhi are barely coping with the flood of new cases that are coming in with this mystery illness. There are now nearly a thousand confirmed cases, and the number is growing quickly. Over a hundred people have already died, mainly the old and young men, but no one seems to be immune. Scientists have now confirmed that this is a previously unknown virus. Existing vaccines seem to be ineffective, and anti-virals are having no effect. This outbreak is barely two weeks old and already the authorities are concerned about both the speed at which it's spreading and its virulence. The mortality rate of this strain is now approaching 70%. Authorities are encouraging people to follow the normal precautions to prevent the spread of the disease, and as you can see from these images, have issued thousands of face masks for people to wear in the hope of slowing down the spread of the disease. We are hearing rumours however, that this virus may be different from other viruses in that it is spread from contact with bodily fluids such as sweat, vomit or faeces, but it is also airborne, which makes it particularly dangerous.

Mahesh, have authorities managed to track the source of the virus?

No Cathy. All we know at this stage, is that it seems to have broken out in the Delhi slums, which, as you know, are home to over 20 million people, many of who live in overcrowded, substandard and unhygienic conditions. Frankly, these are probably the worst conditions in which to contain an outbreak. There is talk of the slums being quarantined, but that is just speculation at present.

Is there any international response?

Yes, Cathy. The World Health Organisation is sending a team out to assist the Indian authorities, and scientists from the American CDC are already on the ground, but the group 'Doctors Without Borders' is calling for a much bigger international response and is warning that this epidemic has the potential to turn into a global pandemic.

They watched in horror the images of sick and dying people being cared for by hazmat-suited medical staff, and of bodies being lowered into mass graves. The mood in the room, once light and happy, turned sombre.

And now to local news where we have a report that the Leader of the Opposition has been tragically killed in a road accident. Police have yet to determine the exact cause, but it is believed that the car in which Mrs Wright was travelling had lost control on a steep section of road plunging down a bank, killing both her and her driver. Police are appealing for any witnesses to the accident to come forward with information. The Prime Minister has expressed his condolences to Mrs. Wright's family. Details of the funeral arrangements will be disclosed in a few days' time, but the Prime Minister has announced that Mrs. Wright will receive a full state funeral, and flags on government buildings are flying at half-mast.

Later in the morning, the last four members of the team to assault the comms centre arrived; hard, determined men who had all seen action before. Gabe and Kurt took them out on deck and ran them through the operation, then drilled them on the use of the Firestorm weapons. All of them also carried extra guns and ammunition, as well as grenades.

As 5.00 p.m. approached, David checked in with John.

"Are you ready?"

"As we'll ever be. We've just got the last thing we needed. A new vehicle. I didn't want to get it until just before we moved. It's pretty noticeable. Are those hackers ready to give us a diversion?"

"We think so. Peter contacted them earlier and they say they're ready."

"Are they reliable though?"

"They really came through for us with the video. Peter thinks so, but he also says they are just as likely to throw in a few curve balls of their own. They seem to have a bit of a sense of humour and aren't that good with just following instructions."

"Guess that should come as no surprise. As long as they set off those alarms I'll be happy." He paused. "What are you going to do about Ballock if all this comes off? You can't let him get tried and sent to prison. I think they'll notice when he doesn't grow old and die behind bars."

David said nothing.

"You know what we have to do."

"I guess," David replied.

"David, he killed hundreds of people in cold blood just to get control of the city. I don't understand what's going on here. What is he trying to achieve?"

"I have a horrible feeling there is more to this than we know. He came to see me before the bombings. Tried to get me to swap sides. He hinted that things were changing."

"We'll have to ask him when we see him then," John replied.

"Yeah. Good luck, John."

"Yeah, you too man. I'll see you after it's all gone down."

"I'll hold you to that. Take care." John nodded and closed the connection. David was sitting, staring at the screen when Maria came up behind him.

"I have a surprise," she said as she put her arms around his neck. He turned to look around and up at her. She indicated the door with her head. David turned.

"Bik!"

He went over and gave her a hug. "Good to see you're ok. I'm not really surprised to see you here, although I don't recall telling you where we were." His tone was scolding, but his face was smiling.

"I've come to help of course."

"It'll be dangerous out on the streets tonight. You won't be able to control people the way you normally can. It'll be too fast moving."

"I'm still coming," she said. "I don't think the people will need much encouragement tonight."

"I'm glad you're here."

Bik turned to Maria. "You're looking well my dear, there's something different about you though. I don't know what." She tilted her head to the side and peered at her. "Maybe it's just that you look happier," she smiled.

At five p.m., the team to take out the comms facility got ready to leave. The equipment had all been checked and double-checked. They were as ready as they could be. Each of the men had a holster for the Firestorms across their chests. The bulky guns clipped into the holsters and made a distinct click when drawn. David looked at the group of men before him. All hard professionals except for Luke who looked small and nervous.

He went up to Gabe. "Good luck out there."

"We'll be ok. If John can't take down the power, or we can't get it done, we'll withdraw and run for it. We'll head to the slums then get out of the city."

David nodded. "Take care of Luke."

"I will. I don't fancy facing you later if he gets hurt," Gabe said. He gave David a lopsided smile. They shook hands.

David went over to Luke. "Take care of yourself out there. Don't do anything stupid or even brave," he said. Luke laughed.

"Seriously, no heroics. Let these tough bastards do all the hard work," David nodded at the assembled soldiers.

"I'll be ok. Take care of yourself and Maria out there. It'll be crazy on the streets."

David nodded "I will." He gave the young man a slap on the arm.

"Time to go, you ugly bunch." Kurt said. He gave David a nod and they piled into two vans and headed out. The much-reduced group watched them go and then headed into the ship to organise themselves. It had been decided that they would split into three. David and Maria would take one main route into town, Peter and Rebekah another, and Bik on her own, a third. It was a long walk from the port to the Core, so David and Maria were going to drive part of the way, to a small park, and begin walking from there. The others would drive to two other main roads. The distance from the starting points to the Government offices would mean that they should all arrive at the same time: just before nine p.m.

As they drove slowly through the city, the streets seemed to be busier than usual and with a big police presence. David thought that there were a lot more people walking than usual, but that may have just been his imagination and wishful thinking. They arrived close to the park, and Peter pulled the car over to the side of the road.

"Looks promising, there are definitely a lot of people around. A lot of police as well," Peter said.

David leaned forward and put his hands on their shoulders. "Take care out there and be safe. Thank you."

Rebekah twisted round and gave him an apprehensive smile. "You too. It's going to be good."

"I hope so. If it goes bad, get out of the city. Don't worry about us." He turned to Bik who was sitting next to him. "7.30 p.m. we get as many people as we can marching, you can do that better than anyone. Same thing goes for you though, if it gets out of control, just get out."

She gave him an impish smile, "I'll be fine. Look after yourself and take care of Maria. I'll see you in the city centre. And... you're doing the right thing here. It has to be done." She reached forward and gave him a hug.

David and Maria jumped out of the car and watched it drive away before they turned and walked the short distance to the park. The park bordered the train station and as they arrived, people were pouring out of the station and the park was already crowded. For a moment, Maria was sure that she spotted the tall, lean figure of Simon from the communes, leading a group of people out of the station.

Maria gasped "Oh wow! Look at the people." Many were wearing bandanas and masks, some carried placards and flags. Some looked scared, others were boisterous or angry. There were young and old, people of every race and creed, jackers, Aug's and normals: everyone was here. There was a feeling of energy in the air. The crowd was ready. They were waiting for a signal.

Come on the hackers, David thought, looking at his watch, 7.15. They walked around the park, listening to the people, sensing the hope, the determination and the fear. A few police entered the park, but they stayed well in the background no doubt feeling the hostility of the crowd. The number of people continued to grow until the park was packed. Still more people poured in.

A minute until 7.30 p.m. The sun had started to set, and the horizon had taken on a pink hue that changed to dark blue as David looked skyward. It was going to be a clear night. He was glad of that at least.

He sighed heavily. Maria turned to him as if reading his mind. "You ok? I know you don't like doing this."

He gave her a weak smile. "As Bik said, I have to put my reservations aside. I have to start the march going somehow. I'll just keep telling myself that."

At 7.30 p.m., he pulled off his hood and switched the holo-projector to display his mask. Peter's video expert had created an app that turned the virtual mask he had used to fool the face recognition cameras, into a replica of the face that had appeared on the bill board. A swirling mass of pictures that looked like a face, but blurred and slightly out of focus. People around him started to notice and a murmur began to run through the crowd. David turned to Maria. "Time to get this show on the road." He took Maria's hand in his and they started to move forward. David's aura exploded like a supernova engulfing the whole crowd in light and pulled them along. He had done something like this before in battle, turning a loose group of soldiers into a cohesive fighting unit, but never had he tried to push so many people in one direction at the same time. He found, to his surprise, that it required little effort. The people were on his side and ready to go. At the same moment as he began to move, every bill board in the city turned black and from the blackness emerged the white feather. Then, the street lights on every side street off the major roads into town turned red, opening corridors for the marchers into the centre of the city. Except for the marchers, the city came to a standstill.

**

Peter and Rebekah dropped Bik near a square, just off one of the main roads leading into the city. The diminutive woman wished them luck and wandered off into the crowd that had formed. The square was a large, open, paved area, slightly below street level and surrounded by broad steps leading down into it. In the centre, a fountain played gently. A young man was standing on the edge of the fountain speaking loudly and passionately to the assembled people, alternatively bullying and imploring them to march and to stand up against the Government's restrictions. He was doing a good job of pumping them up and was getting plenty of encouragement from the crowd. Bik found a bench-seat near the fountain and smiled at a young jacker who offered her his seat.

She studied the crowd carefully. It was large and growing all the time. A real mix of people from every walk of life. She pulled out her phone and checked the time: not long now. She relaxed into the seat and listened to the young man. Her reverie was disturbed minutes later by a commotion on the far side of the square. The police had made an appearance and a wedge of them in body armour were pushing their way toward the centre of the crowd, which was reacting badly to their presence. They reached the fountain and started ordering the man down, threatening to take him into custody. The crowd started to turn ugly.

A group of hybrids appeared, their red auras announcing their presence clearly to Bik. Their intent was obvious; they were going to start a riot. She waited until they came close and slammed her aura into them. Influencing hybrids was harder than people, but it was possible. She concentrated hard on them and they began to waver then began to drift away. She had averted the crisis, at least for now.

The police and the protesters were facing off and there was some pushing and shoving. Bik reached out slowly and started to calm tempers, she didn't want this to get out of hand before it had even started. Everyone was on edge. There was a lot of shouting and arguing, but police eventually decided that discretion was their safest option and they slowly backed out of the square, followed by jeering and abuse from the assembled people. Bik sighed with relief. She was feeling her age.

The sky began to darken. She began to watch the large billboard on the side of a building at the rear of the square. At 7.30 p.m. the billboard darkened. Quickly the crowd became hushed and expectant as people pointed out the sudden change. Out of the darkness, a white feather appeared. A thunderous cheer went up from the crowd. Bik struggled to her feet and extended her unique, green aura. She began to walk slowly out of the square and onto the road. As if drawn by an invisible force, the buoyant, noisy crowd flooded after her and towards the city centre.

**

In the Government Offices, a command and control centre had been set up with large screens showing the view from major points about the city. The Prime Minister stood with his senior advisers, watching the screens as the people flooded out of the stations; streams of cars, trucks and buses headed toward the Core; and people poured onto the streets.

"Dear God," the Prime Minister moaned. "There are tens of thousands of them."

"Hundreds of thousands, Sir," the Commissioner corrected. "I don't know if we can control this."

"Are all the men in place?" Ballock asked.

"Yes, I've got men on every road into town, checkpoints set up and a ring of steel around the building. They won't get in here." Ballock nodded his approval.

"We need to stand firm, Prime Minister," Ballock said quietly. "We can't let the mob rule. We need to maintain order. We've come too far, done so much." His aura extended out, enveloping the others and he smiled slightly as the Prime Minister's back straightened and his head lifted. "We just have to hold firm."

**

John and his team sat crowded into a van in a private parking area. Next to them sat the large bulk of a two-level car transporter. From their position, they could see an intersection on a road leading into the city and an advertising billboard. Carl was watching them carefully. He saw the billboard flicker and die and the symbol of the white feather emerge. He quickly flicked the binoculars to the lights and smiled slightly as they changed to red and stayed there.

"The computer boys have done their job. Time to rock and roll."

"Right, let's do this," said John sticking his hand out. The others slapped their hands down on his, then they went into action. Two men jumped out and climbed into the modified and reinforced cab of the big transporter and clipped themselves into full racing safety harnesses. The remainder split into two groups, and half the team went to another van parked nearby. The transporter fired up its big bio-diesel and a cloud of black smoke pumped into the sky. The driver put it into gear and slowly pulled out. The two vans pulled in behind it. The hackers had given them exactly ten minutes to get to the gates of the reactor. They were to trigger the alarms on the far side of the facility in exactly five minutes. Long enough for the security forces to mobilise and get to the perimeter to investigate.

John's team had placed some small explosives near the fence to give the diversion some credibility. John held the detonator in his hand. At the five-minute mark, he pushed the button. It was too far away for them to hear or see anything; he just had to hope. The same as he just had to hope the ChaosPlague had done their bit. The security forces were on high alert anyway. Hopefully, this would draw enough of them away to make John's job just a little easier.

The diversion went perfectly. The explosions ripped open a section of fence and then the alarms went mad. Inside the facility the system was indicating multiple breaches of the fences and multiple targets entering the facility. The whole grounds seemed to be under sustained attack. The cameras dropped out at precisely the same time, leaving the defenders blind. The commander did exactly what anyone would do, he sent nearly half his men to contain the breaches and the remainder locked down the facility as tight as a drum. Then he waited for someone to tell him what the hell was going on out there. Minutes passed, then the call came in. Multiple holes in the fence but no one in sight. What the hell was happening? Then a sudden realisation hit him, and he ordered his men back to the facility, now.

The transporter came straight up the street that led directly to the gates of the reactor facility. The facility sat in the middle of extensive grounds surrounded by a razor wire fence. There were only two gates. One on each side of the facility, each protected by a guardhouse and concrete bollards that came out of the ground to prevent ram raids, but as an extra protection, a large, dry moat sat behind the barrier that was crossed only by a retractable bridge. As the facility was in lockdown, the bridge had been withdrawn into the far wall. The transporter belched smoke as the driver put the pedal to the metal.

The driver glanced at his companion "Ready?"

"Fuck no," the man replied shaking his head.

The driver laughed. "Here we go then."

The guards in the guardhouse saw it coming and ran outside, watching the transporter approach. Once they realised it wasn't slowing down, their guns came up and they started to fire. John had anticipated this, and the windscreen of the truck had been replaced with steel plates with viewing slots. Bullets bounced off the heavy steel. The truck got to the footpath, and the guards ran for their lives throwing themselves out of the way. The truck ploughed on through the gate and barrier arm and then hit the concrete bollards with a huge crash and rending of metal. The mass and momentum of the transporter was too great for the bollards which sheared from the ground, and then the vehicle arced into space over the moat. The front of the truck crashed down into the bottom of the moat leaving the upper section approximately level with the ground on the other side.

The two vans were following closely behind. The first pulled over and two men jumped out with Firestorms in hand and quickly rendered the guards unconscious. The second van pulled up at the edge of the moat. The men quickly leapt out, climbed up the transporter and ran across the top, which formed a bridge to ground level. The two drivers were shaken but otherwise unhurt and climbed up to meet them.

The remaining members of the team joined them seconds later, and they spread out and ran hard for the large glass and steel building. They could hear the alarms blaring and knew the guards would be on to them in seconds. The APC had gone, presumably lured away by the diversion.

They met the first resistance in the car park outside the front door. Two guards charged out of the building but were quickly cut down by bolts of electricity. They knew there were more guards on the inside, but they had to get inside quickly, or they faced being caught between them and the returning guards. Carl raced forward and slapped a small charge with a timer on the main doors. He sprinted back and had barely got clear when the doors were blown in, the glass shattering with the force.

They were through before the smoke had cleared. Once inside they saw the guards were hunkered down behind the reception desk and down the halls to either side. Two men pinned the guards behind the desk while Carl lobbed a flash-bang over and behind it, which erupted with a blinding concussion. The two lead men went straight after it, each firing in opposite directions down the hallway at the defenders. They vaulted the desk and dealt with the disabled guards. The others poured in quickly. The guards returned fire, and one of John's team went down, hit in the head. John ran over to check him, but there was nothing he could do. They couldn't risk delays here; other guards couldn't be far behind. John pulled two grenades from his belt, throwing them hard down the hallways. This was no time for subtlety. "Grenade!" he yelled. Two explosions blew the hallways apart. John looked briefly at his handiwork then yelled "Get those doors open."

The big building was the administration area of the complex. Access to the reactor building and control room was via a long tunnel that could be closed at both ends. The steel doors to the tunnel were sealed. John ordered the rest of the team to take up defensive positions while Carl placed plastic explosive charges on the doors.

John looked out through the large plate glass windows. He saw armed guards swarming around the building, heading for their position. They didn't have long.

"Fire in the hole!" Carl yelled. John covered his ears, and seconds later there was a large explosion and the doors were blown inwards. He followed Carl inside. This was a dangerous point. If they fled into the tunnel and attackers got in behind them before the doors at the other end were opened, then it would be like shooting fish in a barrel. He slapped Carl on the shoulder "Go to it."

Carl pulled a short wide-barrelled weapon from his bag. Inside the tube, he carefully slid a small missile. Gunfire erupted behind him and there was a sound of sheets of glass breaking and shattering. He calmly put the weapon up to his eye, its base extended over his shoulder. He sighted down the cross hairs and pulled the trigger. The little missile streaked along the passage and exploded against the doors. The heavy steel doors were ripped from their hinges and thrown backwards. Carl had decided on using the missile so that any defenders behind the door would also be taken out in the resulting explosion. Debris and dust rained down creating a cloud at the far end that billowed back towards him. He checked for a moment and then yelled at the others.

The team quickly raced down the tunnel, leap frogging each other to provide cover from the guards that would be following them. The last thing they needed was to be caught between two sets of guards, one at each end of the tunnel. The team had barely got to the far end before bullets started to impact around them. As the team charged through, two men peeled off to cover the tunnel, one to either side. John was satisfied. They had got into the reactor building without too much resistance and only one casualty on their side. Two guards who had been behind the door were down. One appeared dead; the other was writhing in pain on the floor, bleeding badly from shrapnel from the door. John signalled one of the men to try to staunch the bleeding. He knew that the reactor control room was down a short hall from the doors off to one side and snuck a quick look, but was met by a bullet impacting the wall beside him. There were still a couple of guards in the control room.

"Here they come!" One of the two men at the destroyed doors called. The guards had decided to try to rush them before they had secured their position. John came back to the doors and ducked down beside the dead guard. The man who had called the warning was carrying a second Firestorm set to multishot for just this possibility. He waited until the charging guards were half way down the corridor and then quickly stepped out, aimed the weapon at the charging men and pulled the trigger, sweeping it back and forth. The laser lanced out, flickering in the remnants of the smoke from the rocket. The effect was devastating. It was as if a lightning storm had been unleashed in the corridor. Bolts of electricity lanced down the corridor, cutting the men down and leaving them crippled and writhing on the floor. The hallway reverberated with the thunderous sound of the weapon's power.

Now John knew why they had been banned. Behind him, he heard Carl gasp, "That was fucking awesome!"

With the guards neutralised, he turned his attention back to the control room. They needed to get this done quickly. Time was running out and he needed to get the power down. He pulled a flash bang from his belt and tossed it down the hallway. He heard the guards shout before the grenade went off with a loud explosion and a blinding flash.

The team advanced down the hallway and through some glass doors. The two guards were lying on the ground clutching their ears. John quickly and efficiently secured their hands behind their back with ratchet ties. He pulled out his phone and pushed a button.

"Kill the cameras and disable the loading door out back." he ordered.

John scanned the room. The white suited technicians were all sitting against the back wall, well out of harm's way, with their hands in the air. The room contained a number of holographic control consoles and big screens on the walls displaying data on the reactor. None of it made any sense to John.

"Right, which one of you is in charge here?"

An older man with a balding head and thick, black rimmed glasses spoke up, "I am."

"Ok. Well done. I didn't want to hurt anyone to find out, so that's a good start. I need you to turn the power off."

The man looked horrified. "You can't just turn a fusion reactor off. It's not a light bulb."

Nothing showed on John's face, but he liked that; the man showed some guts.

"I didn't tell you to turn the reactor off. I told you to turn the power off. I want you to turn off the power to the central city. I want it dark. Now." His voice was flat and hard.

The man's jaw was set. "It can't be done. There are all sorts of protocols to be followed. It'll take hours."

John pushed out his aura as hard as he could, trying to influence the man. He wasn't nearly as good at this as David. "I don't believe you. My engineers tell me that you can do it, and it takes a matter of minutes. I'm not going to ask you nicely again. Do it, now."

The man became stubborn. "No, I won't do it."

Obviously, he wasn't going to be able to influence the technician in the time he had. It was time to use a more direct form of persuasion.

"So now you say 'won't' rather than 'can't' do it. Ok." The man was confused for a moment, thinking that John had agreed. John turned slightly and grabbed a young technician, a blond man in his late twenties who was sweating profusely and easily looked the most scared of all of them. He hauled the young man to his feet while unclipping his Firestorm. "This is a Firestorm. It fires an electrical pulse. Something like a lightning bolt. One of these just took out half a dozen guards. Normally, it won't kill you, but if I fire it up close to someone's head, like this." He put the barrel against the young man's temple. "Then it would literally fry his brain. Your choice. Turn off the power, or I pull the trigger." John stared at the head technician, hoping like hell the man didn't call his bluff, he had no idea what he would do if that happened.

The head technician leapt to his feet waving his hands. His resistance had crumpled, "No. No. Please leave him alone. I'll do it."

.

"Now!" John pulled out his phone and pushed a button. "Go."

The man quickly ran to a computer console and manipulated the holographic display. One of the other members of John's team came and stood directly behind him just to increase his fear. John saw a display showing the various nodes in the grid and the man pushed the buttons to turn them off. The system asked for confirmation and he pushed yes. The grid started to go down.

John had done the first part of his job. Now he had to get everyone out alive.

**

Peter and Rebekah had the furthest to go. They had expected people to be on the streets and for there to be traffic jams, but they hadn't anticipated anything like what they were seeing. They weren't going to make it to the main road in time.

"It's nearly 7.30" Rebekah said needlessly.

"I know, but I can't go any faster."

"Pull over anywhere you can. We'll just have to run." Peter looked around, spied a spare bit of ground and pulled the car off the road. They got out and began sprinting down the road hand in hand. They were still a couple of blocks away. As they ran, it clicked over to 7.30 and the street lights all turned red.

"Look, look, look!" shouted Rebekah grabbing at Peter's arm. They had come to the last intersection before the main road, and the traffic was totally stopped. People were jumping out of their cars, simply leaving them in the middle of the road. On the sides of buildings, the white feather shone out boldly from every board. They reached the main road. It was completely choked with people and abandoned cars. Many of the people wore bandanas around their faces; other wore crude painted masks approximating David's White Wing face. There were people with placards and flags. They were all shouting, cheering and waving placards. The feeling in the air was electric. All it needed was a trigger.

"Oh, my goodness," said Rebekah looking at the people. "I didn't think there would be so many."

Peter smiled, enjoying the challenge. "Don't worry," he said. "Once they all get moving, nothing will stop them, we just have to get the momentum going."

"Ok," Rebekah nodded nervously. He squeezed her hand. The both closed their eyes for a moment. Messages flicked out through the jacker networks as they contacted everyone they knew and anyone in range. A group of young jackers appeared and formed up around them. As they moved slowly up the road, more and more people joined them. The crowd sensed the change in momentum, they flowed along in their wake, chanting and shouting for the Prime Minister's resignation and the end of martial law. Gradually, the crowd turned from a confused mass into an unstoppable wave.

They had gone nearly a kilometre when they met their first serious challenge. A major roadblock had been set up in one of the intersections, and a solid wall of police, backed with security forces and crowd-control vehicles, faced them.

"We're just going to have to go through them," said Rebekah. "We couldn't stop this many people if we tried."

"Stay behind me when we get to the police. I don't want you to get crushed," Peter said.

"How are you going to stop it?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

"I have no idea."

She laughed. "My hero."

As they got closer, a group of Augs pushed through and took the lead. More and more of them joined until a solid phalanx of powerful men and women provided a protective barrier in front of them.

The police must have seen this move as a threat and an order went out. The march got within a hundred metres and there was a series of thumps as canisters of tear gas started to fly towards throng. Augs wearing masks simply picked up the canisters and heaved them back at the police, their exoskeletons enabling them to throw the canisters at least as far as the cannons. The crowd cheered. The police quickly realised their error and changed tactics. Three men moved through the lines carrying what looked like large tubes.

"Oh no," said Peter.

"What are they?" asked Rebekah alarmed.

"Nets," he said.

"Oh dear."

There was a solid thump as one of the police fired. The projectile shot into the air, opening out as it flew into a fine net of sticky wires. The Augs must have been expecting this and tried to avoid it, but it landed on a group of them and they went down. Peter expected them to be able to rip it off, but instead of simply being entangled, the Augs were thrown into chaos. Peter heard and saw the sparking of electricity, realising with horror that the net was electrified. The captured Augs turned into a howling, thrashing heap as the electric shocks shorted their circuitry, interfering with their augmentations.. He heard instructions being shouted. Another two thumps and the nets shot into the air, but this time the Augs were ready. Two men ran forward and leapt high into the air using their bodies to catch the nets. They crashed to the ground screaming in agony, unable to control their landing.

"Oh no," moaned Rebekah, unable to watch as they writhed in pain. This wasn't control, it was torture.

This was too much for the Augs. More charged forward to join them, and they ran straight at the police line. The police drew batons and there were the distinctive cracks of rubber bullets being fired. A few of the Augs went down, but they were like a tsunami: a potent mixture of raw power, augmented by human emotion. There was a massive impact as the Augs hit the riot shields and men were thrown back. The police line disintegrated in an instant. The Augs charged through, using brute strength to hurl the men aside like rag dolls. A group got to one of the vehicles and with a huge heave, threw it over on its side and then proceeded to rip the doors off and drag the unfortunate occupants out.

One particularly huge man started shouting orders and organising the Augs, keeping them from ripping the police apart. The barriers were quickly dismantled and the crowd that had barely slowed, despite the carnage, flowed on through. The massive leader strolled over and gave Peter and Rebekah a huge grin.

Rebekah ran up and gave him a huge hug. "Thank you." He bent down as if she was a child and hugged her back.

"Eric thought you might need some help."

23: Lights Out

Gabe's team had pulled into a small alleyway about a block from the comms building. A couple of the men had taken a walk past the front door to check it out. The front door sat at the top of a short set of steps, up on a podium level to prevent ram raids. The doors themselves were heavy steel and bulletproof glass. A guard stood on either side. Just through the door was a short open-ended chamber that was an x-ray body scanner. Behind that, a desk protected a set of elevators and stairs to the higher levels. The plan was for John to take down the reactor and for them to take advantage of the blackout to attack the building. The hard part was the timing.

Luke was sitting next to Gabe. He checked his phone for the tenth time.  
7.28 p.m.

"Stop that," Gabe said.

"What?"

"Checking your phone. He won't start until the ChaosPlague stop the street lights. Joe will tell us when that happens. Then John will take at least ten minutes to get into the building, maybe more. He'll let us know when he's in."

At exactly 7.30 p.m. Gabe's phone beeped. "Street lights are down. Start the engine." The driver turned on the van's engine and left it idling. Minutes passed. Gabe's phone beeped again. "John's in, let's go."

The driver inched the car to the end of the alley and turned down the road. When he reached the street the building was on, he pulled over. Gabe's phone rang. He pushed the button. One word came out "Go!" Gabe hopped out of the van and started to walk down the street. The van followed him at a distance, curb crawling. It was nearly dark. Suddenly, the street lights flickered and went out. Then the lights went out in the buildings and the street was plunged into darkness. Gabe reached the building and walked up the steps. The two guards had walked to the edge of the podium, wondering what had happened. Gabe shot them both, the Firestorm flashing blue-white in the darkened street. The van pulled up behind him, and the men dashed out and up the steps. Gabe went through the heavy doors. There were six guards: one manning the scanner, one standing at the far end of the chamber, and the rest behind the desk. They were trying to figure out what had happened to the lights. Gabe turned the dial on the Firestorm and pulled the trigger. An electrical maelstrom engulfed the guards. The rest of the team poured through the doors.

They ran to the stairs as the emergency lighting flickered on. Back-up generators would have kicked in the moment the electricity went out. The comms and drone pilots would have only noticed a brief fluctuation in the power.

Two men peeled off, heading down to the maintenance level to take out the generators. Their job was to destroy the generators and then head back to the van. The rest of them charged up the stairs. They had no idea which level contained their targets, so they just had to check each floor. They ran into police almost immediately, but none were armed and Gabe's team had no trouble disabling them. Then the alarm went off: high-pitched mechanical siren.

"Pick it up, we're busted!" Gabe shouted.

Level three housed the drone pilots. A big, open-plan room with two dozen stations, each with a pilot who was flying a drone over the city. Each station had a big curved screen displaying the view from the drone's front cameras. The pilots flew the drones with two holographic circular controls on the desk in front of them. They probably hadn't reacted to the brief fluctuation in the power, but the siren had them agitated. The problem for them was that they were unable to leave their stations to investigate. Kurt and two other men walked through the doors and opened fire. Some of the pilots must have had guns in their stations; bullets started to fly. Kurt ̶ who was leading the team ̶ turned his Firestorm to full auto, but the room was so large he could only take out a section. If nothing else, the electricity would fry the electronics. Once the Firestorm was spent, he pulled a machine-gun from his back and started firing at the consoles, pining the pilots down, while the others ran down the aisles disabling them. The whole attack took no more than a couple of minutes. The team regrouped to head up the stairs to join the others, but the moment they opened the doors, bullets smacked into the heavy wood, so they quickly pulled them back closed. They were trapped. Then the emergency lights went out. The generators were down. Kurt pulled night vision goggles from his backpack and flicked them on.

"Close your eyes," he said to the others. He took a couple of flash-bangs from his belt and opened the doors wide enough to see the stairs, pulled the pins and tossed them out. The police may not have been able to see the grenades when they hit the floor and started to bounce, but they certainly heard them. Someone shouted 'Grenade!' but too late. There was a terrific bang and flash of light, and the team charged out, firing electricity as they went. Further down, they could hear reinforcements coming, and saw flashlights playing on the walls. They turned and fled up the stairs.

The comms section was on the fifth floor, the top floor. In fact, it actually took up two floors as it was a set of tiered work stations leading down to a massive set of screens. The big screens showed the feed from the drones and the cameras around the city. They were the eyes and ears of the Government.

The alarms and the loss of the drone feeds had alerted the police staff to the attack and when they reached them, the doors were locked. One of the team pulled a plastic explosive charge from his bag and placed it on the door. Gabe pulled out his second weapon and turned to Luke. "Go to the far side. Once the doors are blown you and I will stick the Firestorms around the door frame, point down the tiers, full auto. Don't stick your head out." Luke nodded. The rest of you, come in after we fire. They retreated down the corridors. There was a heavy thump as the explosive went off and the doors were thrown open. Gabe charged forward to the door frame and stuck his arm around it into the room. Luke mirrored him. Bullets splintered the wood on the far side of the corridor as the defenders expected men to charge in. The lights went out suddenly and they heard cries of confusion from inside. "Now," Gabe shouted. Blue lightning flashed out, bathing the room in harsh light. A split second later, two other members of the team overlapped them, firing into the room at anything that moved. Gabe pulled on his night vision goggles and pulled out a short, pump action shotgun. Luke had twin pistols. "Destroy the screens," he called, and they followed the rest of the team into the room. The shotgun boomed repeatedly, and glass shattered and fell like rain. Luke had both guns blazing, splintering the operator screens about him.

Gabe paused for a moment admiring his destructive handiwork when he was thrown back by an impact. Some of the operators had survived the Firestorm blasts and were returning fire from the lowest tier of the room. Height gave Gabe's team the advantage, but one of the drone pilots had got off a shot, hitting Gabe low down in the side, just below his body armour.

Luke was at his side in a moment. "What do I do?"

Gabe gasped with the pain. It felt like someone was stabbing him with a hot poker. "Nothing here," he gasped. "We need to get everybody out and to the roof. Help me up." Luke came around behind him and dragged him out of the room leaving a smear of blood.

Kurt's team came charging up the stairs. "Shit. They're on our tails!" he yelled. He turned and went back to the head of the stairs, and the staccato crack of the machine gun rang out, holding the pursuers at bay.

"Get them out. We need to get to the roof." Gabe shouted. Kurt nodded and started yelling orders. The soldiers started to retreat, trying to destroy as much of the equipment as they could on their way out. Luke helped Gabe to his feet and they went as fast as they could to the steel fire doors that led to the roof.

They came out into the dark of night. Gabe could see the stars above him. He had never seen the city so dark. The team barred the doors behind them.

"Your turn, John," Gabe muttered and the greyness overcame him.

24: Power Station

"Ok. Good choice," John told the supervisor. "Everybody up," he waved his gun at the technicians. "Out of the room and into the reactor building." He led them to a small storage room and herded them inside. "Now listen carefully to me. Unfortunately, I can't have you guys turning the power back on for a while, so I'm going to have to shoot you." The technicians all looked terrified. "Don't worry. I'm going to shoot you with this." He waved the Firestorm at them. "It apparently hurts like hell and knocks you out for a few hours. Then, you'll be fine." He shrugged. "Sorry," he shot them all, one by one; careful to make sure he didn't hit anyone more than once, and then shut the door. He turned to Carl. "Are the bombs in place?"

"Yep. Just give me the word and boom!" he grinned.

"Ok. Get everyone ready to move."

He walked back to the corridor from the administrative building and squatted down next to one of the men. "Any movement."

"Yeah. They're getting organised. They won't come this way in a hurry, so I think we can expect them to come in through another entry point." John grunted his agreement. The bodies of the guards still lay in the corridor, unconscious from the Firestorm.

He yelled "Can you hear me down there? I want to talk to whoever's in command."

A voice came back "Chief Sims here. You can talk to me. But first I want to know if everyone's ok in there."

He'll try to keep me talking, John thought. "They're all still alive so far, but I don't have time for this. I talk, you listen. We've placed explosives in the reactor building. If anyone tries to come in, then the whole lot goes up. I'm sure you don't want to be the one responsible for the Government's multi-billion-dollar power station being reduced to rubble."

"Ok. I hear what you're saying. No one is going to try to get in there. I just want to talk. I want to understand what's going on here. Who am I talking to by the way?"

"The White Wing. I'll talk to you again in fifteen minutes."

"Drag two of the guards over here," John ordered. They pulled two of the restrained guards from the control room, and forced them to sit on either side of the door to the corridor so the guards at the other end of the corridor could just see the edge of their bodies. Those guards would see someone there but not be able to tell who it was and assume it was John's team watching the corridor. He wanted to make sure though, that not enough of them was exposed to give a sniper a shot. Then he shot them with the Firestorm so they couldn't move and give the game away. "Right let's get out of here!"

While there were no external staircases to access the roof of the building, a steel gangway circled the inside of the reactor building leading to the roof. The idea was that anyone flying in, got a bird's eyes view of the reactor as they came down. They had just entered the reactor core building when John's radio clicked.

"We've got movement at the loading bay. I think they're going to try to cut open the little service door."

"Ignore it. Go to the stairs now." The rest of the team charged up the stairs. Below, John could see the last two members of the team running from the rear loading bay. The reactor itself was an impressive sight. A huge torus of glass and steel with massive electromagnets to keep the plasma swirling inside under control. It glowed a bright, blue-white colour.

"Carl, with me. The rest of you go ahead," he called. He paused and waited until the last two men reached him running hard.

Below him he saw the small access door of the loading bay open just a crack. Just enough to get a spy-cam in. "Ok," he nodded to Carl. There were four terrific flashes and huge booms rang out, bouncing and echoing around the inside of the reactor core building. Massive clouds of smoke enveloped everything. From above, all John could see was the top of the roiling clouds racing up towards him, the reactor was gone.

"Let's go." He and Carl ran up the ramp as fast as they could. The door to the roof was open and the others had removed the tie-downs on the helicopter, and the blades were starting to rotate. They ran over, and arms came out to pull them inside. "Go, go, go!" the helicopter engine roared and it lifted off into the night. John strapped himself in, pulled on a headset and pulled out his phone. He sent a quick text.

'On the way.'

His phone pinged almost instantly. 'Hurry Gabe down.'

He called through to the pilot "Where's Mac?"

"A couple of k's out, he'll meet up with us closer to the building," the man piloting the helicopter replied.

"Get moving, tell him to hurry, and we're going to need his medical skills."

John looked out over the city. Usually it looked quite different. The Core was normally a bright, glowing mass of lights soaring up into the sky and then, as you looked further from the centre, the light dropped to a dull glow and then faded to black. Tonight, it was as if he was looking at a photographic negative. The whole centre of the city was black, apart from some emergency lighting here and there: a giant black spot surrounded by light. Approaching the Core were columns of light ̶ the marchers ̶ invading the heart of darkness. He smiled. So far, not too bad except for Gabe. Then he had a random thought. He was showing his age; no one else in this helicopter had probably ever seen a photographic negative.

A few minutes later another helicopter swung in beside them. Mac gave them a wave. They came over the Comms building. The team was under attack: pinned down behind some air con units as the police stormed the roof.

"Get that door open. Give them some covering fire. We can't use the Firestorms in here. Use the guns." The police would have seen the helicopter coming, but as it was a government chopper, they probably thought it was there to help them. The pilot swung them in low and turned the craft to bring them side-on, facing the roof entrance. A hail of bullets lanced down at the Police who looked back in shock for a second and then fled for their lives. John grimaced as two of them went down and stayed down.

The other helicopter dropped quickly. There was no pad on the roof, so Mac balanced the machine by the edge of the building. The team carried Gabe aboard and piled in after. As soon as the last man was inside, Mac pulled up and swung the chopper around. The two craft headed into the dark.

25: Confrontation

The crowd flowed after David and Maria up the road; a flood of humanity. At first things were chaotic as people milled about, determined yet unsure what they were to do, but slowly they filed in behind him. A trickle quickly became a raging torrent as word spread and people flooded out onto the streets. They had a direction. They had a purpose. They had a leader.

Then the lights went out. Not all at once, but more like a wave of darkness that advanced over the city, devouring it. David saw the tallest skyscrapers go dark first, then block after block, racing toward him. His heart soared; John had got through. A smile broke across his face and he looked down at Maria seeing her face beaming with wonder and delight. He felt himself lifted; his energy surged and he quickened his pace. We're coming for you Prime Minister, and for you, Ballock.

As they walked, they saw small teams of police blocking the side roads who just stood and watched as the crowd passed. David got an uneasy feeling about them. They were clearly more than just monitoring the progress of the march. Then, as they passed a side street, a group of six heavily armed police burst out in a wedge formation and headed straight for him, shoving the marchers out of the way. More lightly armed officers hovered behind them waiting to move in. The intent was obvious, a snatch squad, take out the leaders of the march.

David pushed Maria behind him and drew his staff. Six of them in armour were going to be a problem. The crowd saw what was happening and started closing ranks, slowing their progress, but the squad battered their way forward. Two Augs appeared at the rear of the wedge and grabbed two of the officers, dragging them back. The crowd saw this, and groups of men ran in and started pulling the officers down from behind. Despite their armour and batons, the sheer weight of numbers quickly overwhelmed them.

The leader was within a few metres of David now, who stood facing him, staff in hand. "You're under arrest," he shouted.

"Am I?" David said calmly. "And what are you going to do about it?" It seemed only at that point the officer realised he was alone, surrounded by angry protesters. He looked around desperately. "I suggest you leave, now," David said stepping right up close to the man's face.

"Let him go," David shouted. The crowd parted and the man ran, followed by the jeers and laughter of the crowd.

"Let's go!" David took Maria's hand and started walking forward. The crowd surged up the street behind him. First challenge dealt with. What else would they have to face before the end, he wondered.

**

The answer to that question came almost immediately. At the first major intersection, there were a significant number of police manning the road block before them. Behind the police was a truck. Presumably it was some kind of communications vehicle, as it has a huge antenna on the top of it. Something tugged at David's memory. He had seen something like it before.

At either side of the front line of the march, David saw small groups of Augs. As the roadblock got closer, they started to push out in front of the crowd. The police were standing their ground at the moment, but as the crowd swelled and approached them, they began to waver. He saw the man in command desperately shouting into his radio trying to get orders. He must have realised he had no real way of stopping that many people but had no idea what to do. David suspected that this exact scene was being played out all over the city and the commanders in the Control Centre were being overwhelmed ̶ if they could even get through. This was the moment of truth; what happened here would determine whether the march continued or descended into violence and chaos. The commander must have received orders, as he yelled at his men who formed up to face the approaching crowd, locking shields in front of them and drawing their batons. The truck moved in behind the line, and the antenna swivelled to point at the crowd.

David had a momentary flashback to a similar scene a very long time ago, in which he charged toward a line of Roman troops, shields locked and short swords drawn. It hadn't ended well. He hoped this wouldn't be a repeat. Some things never change, he thought. David just kept walking. They were now within a couple of hundred metres of the roadblock. The Augs moved forward to form a phalanx in front of them.

All of a sudden, David realised with horror what the truck was. He had seen something like it in Afghanistan and again in Syria.

"Stay here," he said to Maria.

"What, no!" she said.

"You have to; this is bad. I have to go." He drew his staff from his back and ran quickly forward. He got to the front of the line.

"Who's in charge?" he yelled.

"Who do you think, boss?" Eric turned to face him with a huge grin. Then he saw the look on David's face.

"What's wrong?"

"The truck. It's a microwave emitter. An upgrade of the old Active Denial System."

"What does that mean?" Eric shook his head.

"It's a military system: like a giant micro wave. It heats the water in your skin and can burn you, and it interferes with electronics. It's the perfect Aug weapon. Damn, I can't believe they're using something like that against unarmed people. Spread everyone out so it can't target you all if they use it." The order was quickly relayed, and the Augs spread right out, filling the road.

David saw the big antenna swing to the left and then begin tracking right, sweeping very slowly across the front of the line. At first there was no effect, but then the Augs on the far left started to stagger as their augmentation started to malfunction, and they cried out as their skin began to feel like it was on fire. The Augs desperately tried to get out of the line of fire. He saw the people behind them had started to feel the effects as well. Anger flared in him. He charged forward. Behind him he heard Eric cry out "David, no!"

He sprinted toward the line moving faster and faster. Faster than any human could have moved. The Police saw him coming, and shouts went out as they braced for the impact. He was within a couple of metres of the shields; so close he could see the eyes of the policemen through their gas masks. Then he leapt. He cleared the line easily. The faces of the police swivelled up to watch as he soared over them. He landed behind the line then leapt again, whirling his staff above his head. He landed on the top of the truck. The operator sitting in a chair behind the antenna saw him leap and tried to pull his gun. David hit him in the side of the head with the staff and he slumped off the seat. David slammed the lever controlling the antenna to the left and it swung around, away from the marchers. Then he raised his staff and drove it down into the control panel. The machine went dead. A bullet smacked into the antenna next to him. He quickly turned to see the Augs charging the line and jumped down into the gap between the truck and police line. Police charged him as he landed; he swung his staff: swift and deadly. He battered anyone who came close. The Augs hit the line with a deafening crash and the police started to be pushed backward. David smashed a couple of men out of the way and attacked the back of the line near the middle. The police, assailed from front and back, gave way in the middle, and the Augs started to push them back toward the edges. The battle was over in minutes, and the road was clear for the marchers to resume. David looked around for Maria and saw Eric standing next to her, protectively. He hurried over to them.

"Evening boss, nice night for a stroll," Eric chuckled.

"Nice job with your friends. Are they all over the city, facing the road blocks?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Anybody hurt here?"

"Not seriously. That machine is an evil piece of work though."

"Yeah. It was banned decades ago: too damn dangerous. I never thought they'd use something like that against us."

"Have there been any problems like this at the other roadblocks?" Maria asked.

"A few. Had a couple of incidents with hot-headed cops and a few protesters getting out of line. They're using the shock nets as well. No worries though. The police lines are collapsing. I don't think they expected anything like this."

"Neither did I. Best guess on numbers?" David asked.

"Who knows? I've heard everything from a hundred thousand to a million. I think we're much closer to the second number. I've never seen so many people," he shook his head in wonder.

The tide of people moved forward. John and Gabe had been able to complete their part of the plan, and the number of people marching was far greater than he had ever hoped for ̶ even in his wildest dreams. Whether they succeeded or not, he just hoped they all got out safely.

**

The Prime Minister looked on in horror at the ever-increasing flood of people. He'd never seen anything like it. It shook him to his very core. He knew, deep down, that this was the end of his Government. There was no way that they could remain in power after this. The people were speaking loud and clear.

"Sir." A young comms officer broke through his thoughts. The man was standing in front of him and his face spoke more eloquently than words.

"What?"

"The reactor, Sir. We've just had a message that the terrorists have attacked it and have managed to get inside."

"Dear God," he swore. "Get men up there. I want that reactor back in our hands and in one piece. I don't care what it takes. Do it."

At that moment, the lights went out, and the room went dark. There was a moment of shocked silence before the room exploded in chaos.

The Prime Minister's heart sank. Dimly he could hear Ballock shouting orders. He shook himself, then stalked over to Ballock and the other senior advisers. The emergency lights flickered to life, and the screens came back on.

"Have they made any demands?" he asked the comms officer.

"Not yet, Sir."

"We need to face the possibility that the only thing they want is to destroy it." Ballock said. The Prime Minister looked at his senior adviser. He'd never seen him this rattled, this angry.

"God dammit! First the billboards, then the street lights, now the damn power station. We're losing control."

"We haven't lost it yet. We've locked down the building. We have a wall of men between us and that crowd, and we can call in the rest of the military. The men are in their barracks waiting to be deployed. We need to show this rabble who's in control. If we break this march, then we'll break all resistance. Prime Minister, it's time to go all in here. It's the only chance we have."

"I need a moment to think Simon. You're talking about using the military against our own people."

"I don't think we have a choice, Sir. If we don't, we will lose the city."

The Prime Minster thought for a moment. "Simon, I have always believed that once a Government uses its troops against its own people, it has lost its right to govern."

"We don't have a choice. We can't let terrorists take down the government."

The Prime Minister looked hard at him. "I'm beginning to wonder who the terrorists are."

"Sir, I've just had word of explosions at the reactor. It looks like they've blown it up," the comms man shouted.

A shout rang out "Look at the screens!"

The screens had been showing live footage taken from high over the city by the Police drones. Now all the screens displayed were chaotic scenes as the drones spiralled out of control. They watched in shocked fascination as one headed straight for a dark building. At the last moment, they saw terrified occupants running away from the windows, and then the screen dissolved into static. One by one, the screens went dead as the drones fell from the sky.

"Get me the comms building," Ballock screamed.

The young officer was listening hard to his headset. "They're under attack. Something about bolts of electricity. Hello. Hell...?" He looked up at the Prime Minister. "The line's gone dead."

**

Maria and David reached a second major intersection, the last one before they reached the city centre. It was fully dark now, and the crowd had lights and lanterns. From above, it would have been an interesting sight as streams of light flowed toward the centre of the darkened city. There were more police here, but this time they were mixed with security forces. They weren't trying to block the march though; they stood on either side of the street watching, as if protecting the buildings. The crowd was restless under their watchful gaze. Some of the marchers started to get into the faces of the police, venting their anger.

Maria had been watching the crowd carefully, alert for trouble, but with so many people it was hard to see, especially as they were the ones leading the march. For some reason, as they passed the first of the police, she had a funny feeling; the hairs on the back of her neck went up. She swivelled around and walked backwards, desperately searching the crowd. David looked around.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know; I just have this feeling..." Then she saw them: a knot of young men, their red auras standing out clearly in the milling crowd. Their auras were streaked with black. They were going to do something, and it wouldn't be good.

"Over there," she said pointing. "You need to do something!"

David swung around his eyes searching. Then he saw them.

"Eric! That group of young guys there ̶ six of them̶ ̶ yellow shirt, black jacket.

Eric looked carefully. "Got them."

Augs seemed to appear out of nowhere surrounding the group.

The hybrids saw them coming, and one quickly pulled a Molotov cocktail from under his jacket and lit it.

He screamed "Die pigs!" and went to throw it toward the police, who had no idea what was happening. At the last instant, a big hand closed around his wrist and his legs were kicked from under him. The flammable liquid exploded, mostly over the man trying to throw it. The Augs and hybrids were thrown into a pitched battle as the police watched helplessly from the side line. The hybrids were quickly subdued and removed. Jackets and banners were used to snuff out the flames and the badly burnt hybrid was hustled away.

Eric came back to them. "I've put the word out to watch for those groups. There'll be more of them trying to stir up trouble."

David turned to Maria, "Well spotted."

They reached the Core and headed toward the Government buildings. The buildings were now black, as the light from the reactor had been extinguished. David looked up at the apartments and office blocks. He imagined the people up there looking down, scared about what tonight might bring. The Core was a magnificent sight when it was full of light, but it was also 'wrong'; these people had everything and those outside had nothing. At last they entered the square that surrounded the government buildings. It was bang on nine o'clock. In front of him was an army of police and military. They surrounded the building, a wall of riot shields blocking their path. Off to one side, he saw water cannon mounted on trucks surrounded by police. Here we go, he thought. He headed toward the police line with the crowd following him. He came to a stop no more than ten metres from the line. From his bag, he pulled out a small loudhailer.

"Prime Minister Graham. Come out and face your people."

**

Mac called back over the noise of the chopper "What happened?"

"He got shot. Went under his body armour."

"Where?"

"Left side, about six centimetres in."

"Did it go right through?"

"Yeah. He's lost a lot of blood."

"I'm going to Mercy Hospital. Can any of you fly this?"

"I can," one of the men called back.

"Good. I'll set us down on the helipad and we'll get Gabe out, then you guys should probably leave for the rendezvous point. I'll call ahead to the hospital and let them know we're on the way.

**

As David's words died, the assembled crowd roared an earthly, primal roar of rage. The roar coalesced into chanting of the word "Out!" David wasn't sure if they meant "come out" or "get out". Either worked, he thought. He glanced at the ranked troops. They were agitated. They were facing something they were not trained to deal with: civil unrest on a massive scale, and by the looks of it, Gabe had also succeeded in getting the comms down.

"Prime Minister Graham come out and face your people," he roared through the megaphone.

High up on the building, doors opened from a dimly lit room, and a group of men walked out onto the balcony. David recognised the Prime Minister and Ballock at his side.

"Prime Minister, you have betrayed your people and your office. You have used the police and the military against the very people who put you in power. You and your adviser have orchestrated the arrest and beating of thousands of people. You and your adviser have committed mass murder as an excuse to declare martial law. We have all seen the evidence.

We demand your, and the Commissioners, immediate resignation and that new elections be called. We demand that you, and your adviser Simon Ballock, be tried for your crimes and face the full penalty of the law for the deaths of the people in the mall and on the train. We demand you order the police and the military to stand down now and return to their barracks. We demand action to address the poverty in the city and that the power from the reactor be shared with everyone in the city, not just with the rich and powerful. Too long have you and your supporters lived a life of luxury in the light while the rest of your people have starved in the dark. This must end. These are our demands." The roar from the crowd was deafening; the very buildings shook around them.

Above them, the Prime Minister descended into despair. All he wanted was order; a modern, prosperous capital. Instead, he had created something he hated; a police state protecting a rich few against the desperate multitude. He turned to Ballock. "Swear to me that you didn't kill all those people, swear to me that I'm not a mass murderer."

Ballock just sneered at him, "You're a weak fool."

"Dear God man, what kind of monster are you?" He shook his head.

Below the crowd watched, silent and waiting, for the Prime Minister's reply. Only David and Maria saw the surge of Ballock's white and black aura in the darkness like a silent explosion of diseased light. All the crowd saw though, was the Prime Minister step to the edge of the balcony, look down at the crowd below and throw himself over the rail. A shocked gasp rose from the crowd.

Seconds passed in utter silence, then a few moments later another man walked forward. David recognised him as the Police Commissioner. His voice came out over the loudspeaker system. It was shaking; clearly shocked. "We agree. We agree to everything. I order the police to stand down. Return to your stations." David saw Ballock disappear from the balcony into the building. With the police no longer protecting him from the crowd, Ballock would be exposed, and the crowd would not be forgiving. David had a horrible feeling that today's events were far from over.

The crowd started cheering loudly. People were jumping up and down and hugging each other. It was like a war had just ended. Maria threw her arms around David and gave him a big kiss. Other people piled up, cheering and clapping and slapping him on the back.

"You did it!" Maria said.

"We all did it," he smiled.

David's phone rang. "John. We did it. We won.... What?" Maria saw his face change. "Is he alright?"

"Luke?" Maria asked.

David shook his head "Gabe. He's been shot. Apparently, it's bad. They took him to hospital. They don't know his condition. ̶ Where are you?" He looked up at one of the nearby buildings. "What? Damn! Ok."

"What?" Maria was nearly frantic, hearing only one side of the conversation.

"Ballock. He's on the roof and getting in a helicopter. It looks like he's making a run for it." Just as he said it, they heard a roar as a helicopter lifted off the roof of the government building and shot into the dark. Minutes later another helicopter came in low between the buildings and hovered over the crowd. Celebrating people scattered from beneath it. David and Maria ran as fast as they could through the crowd and jumped inside. Luke greeted them from the front co-pilots seat. "John's gone after them. Strap in."

26: A Beginning and an End

John watched Ballock's helicopter as it flew through the night toward the hills surrounding the city. He checked his guns as the others sat around him, quietly waiting. Ballock's helicopter flew to a large, white mansion and dropped quickly to the landing pad on top of the roof. The moment the skids hit the concrete, Ballock leaped out, sprinted across the rooftop garden and into the building.

They watched as guards poured out onto the roof, and took up defensive positions to engage them. The guards started shooting as their helicopter approached, so their pilot pulled away from the roof and dropped it down in the garden well away from the house. They all piled out, guns up, turning to John for orders.

"We need to be quick. Ballock will try to run for it. He is the priority. We need to get in fast and take him into custody, or if we can't take him quickly, disable the helicopter."

"Are we taking him alive?" one of the men asked pointedly.

"Only if we can do it safely, I don't want to lose anyone just to take that bastard alive."

They ran towards the house. Ballock must have had a back-up generator, as the house was well lit up. A broad, circular, gravel driveway passed through well-manicured gardens and swept past the main entrance.

Gunfire erupted from the roof as they got closer. They were forced to slow and take cover while returning fire at the men shooting down at them. The Firestorms were of little use in this situation, so John pulled out his machine gun and laid down cover fire from behind a tree trunk as the rest of the team ran quickly up the steps and blew open the thick, polished, wooden doors. A cloud of grey smoke billowed out from the explosion, and the team cautiously approached. Bullets flew out at them from the guards in the lobby. Before the smoke cleared, Carl positioned himself on one side of the door, stuck his hand around the door frame and fired his Firestorm repeatedly into the lobby. The shooting stopped. John gave the guards on the roof a quick burst from the machine gun and then sprinted for the doorway. Pain flared from the wound in his leg, it was definitely slowing him down, but he did his best to ignore it. Bullets kicked up the ground around him as he ran up the steps.

The main entrance was in the centre at the rear of the basically rectangular three storey main building. It led to a large lobby with rooms off to both the left and right. A large, marble staircase dominated the space. It led up two levels, with balconies leading off to the left and right overlooking the lobby.

Coming through the main door left them exposed on three sides and from above, a tactical nightmare. John cautiously edged a small mirror on a thin metal arm around the doorframe. He saw movement on the second floor, left and right. The guards were planning to catch them in a crossfire, from their positions they could rain fire down on the lobby and turn it into a killing field.

"Ok, we have guards on the left and right up on the second floor overlooking the lobby. If we can get to the staircase, the bannisters will give us some protection." He gave orders for two of the men to provide cover fire to pin down the guards while three others were to make the dash to the staircase. They could then give cover for the rest of the team. It was the best he could come up with in the circumstances. The men moved into position.

"Now!"

The first two men edged around the door, firing up into the house. Bullets smacked into the floor around them, spitting chips of marble up.

"Move!" John and two others sprinted across the lobby. The other two fired up at the balconies as they ran. John watched the staircase. He was half way there when a guard appeared at the top of the stairs. Firing upwards at a target was never easy, but John cut him down with a shot from his Firestorm. The other two men reached the comparative cover of the thick marble pillars of the staircase and returned fire at the guards. The metal balustrades of the first and second floors were as much decorative as they were for safety and the wrought iron gave the guards little protection. The guards were quickly cut down, and the rest of the team entered, moving swiftly up the grand staircase and heading for the roof. Ballock was the priority and he was on the upper levels. They couldn't stop to clear every room despite the danger of leaving guards behind them. They reached the second-floor hallway and again met heavy resistance from the guards. The top of the staircase led directly into a short hallway. At the end of the hallway was a T-junction. At the top of the 'T' was a large room. The guards had placed themselves on either side of the hall so they could concentrate their fire on the top of the staircase. John's team was again at a serious disadvantage, as they had to come up into the line of fire in order to get to the hallway. Bullets flew back and forth, as they traded fire. One of John's men went down, hit in the neck. They dragged him out of the line of fire and John knelt down, trying to staunch the bleeding with his hands. The man looked up into his face, tried to say something, then went still.

"Shit!" For a moment, he crouched there looking at the blood on his hands, then he took a breath to calm his anger.

"This is taking too long. Carl, do you have a grenade?" John asked. Carl nodded.

"Last ones." He scrambled as far as he could up the steps and lobbed two grenades down the hall.

"Grenade," he shouted. The team ducked as the grenades went off, and then they charged over the top and down the hallway, their Firestorms clearing the way.

The entrance to the roof level was down the hall to the right and up a short set of stairs. A set of heavy, glass doors led out to the rooftop garden. They reached the roof level and saw Ballock hurrying toward the helicopter with a heavy bag. The guards had taken up positions on the roof to fire at anything that showed through the doors. Ballock was going to get away. He opened fire and the doors exploded outwards in a shower of glass. He saw Ballock dive for cover behind a concrete garden planter and then scuttle towards the helicopter.

**

They flew through the night, chasing the other helicopters. The pilot called over his shoulder. "Looks like they set down in the grounds of a mansion up in the hills. We'll be there in a minute."

As they approached, David could see a massive, multi-story, white building with numerous outbuildings and a large pool. John's helicopter sat on the lawn. Ballock's sat of the roof, its blades still rotating slowly. They were no more than a couple of minutes behind the others. The pilot set them down, and they all jumped out. The moment they opened the door they could hear the sounds of the gun battle going on inside and see yellow flashes of gunfire, interspersed with the blue-white ones of the Firestorms.

"You two stay here," David shouted at Maria and Luke over the sound of the helicopter's engine.

"No way!" they both shouted back in unison.

"Dammit why don't you ever listen to me?"

"I'm going!" Luke shouted and ran toward the house. David and Maria chased after him. They met no resistance and David assumed that all the guards were occupied with fighting off John's team. A huge double explosion rocked the house. Grenades.

As they reached the house, David called for them to halt. He pulled out a handgun and a knife and gave them both to Maria. "Just in case." From his backpack, he pulled out another gun. "Stay behind me." He carefully entered the house. The entrance led into a huge lobby with a central staircase. The flooring was white marble and a huge crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. The house had the kind of restrained elegance that shouted wealth without being vulgar. The effect was ruined, however, by the shattered doors, the unconscious guard sprawled on the floor, and the sound of gunfire from higher up in the house. David looked around. The lobby was very exposed, but it seemed to be empty.

"Up the stairs, quickly." David moved carefully but purposefully forward and up the staircase. Luke followed him. Maria followed, but as she got half way up the stairs she heard a quiet cry from down below. Neither of the men seemed to have noticed as they reached the top of the stairs and headed into the house. For a moment, she hesitated. Nina? It sounded like her, but it couldn't be! She saw a set of stairs leading down to the basement level. Maria looked up, but David and Luke had both disappeared. She ran back to the lobby and over to the door and peered down. There was another level below. As she crept down the stairs, she heard another cry. She was sure it was Nina now, so crept to the bottom of the stairs and looked around the corner into a small, dark hallway that led left and right. To the right was the machinery room. To the left, on one side of the hallway, was a large wine cellar with rows of bottles covering the wall. On the other side was a series of rooms, probably for storage. The door to the room at the end of the hallway was open, and a light shone out. She pulled out the gun David had given her and edged down the hallway holding the gun in front of her like she'd seen on the screen shows. She remembered to flip off the safety and pull back on the slide to slip a round into the breech.

She got to the doorway and peeked inside, around the corner. Nina sat on the end of the bed at the far end of the room. She was wearing a flimsy nightgown and her face was black and swollen; someone had punched her. Maria stepped into the room lowering the gun, "Nina."

Nina looked up at her, startled and fearful. "No!"

A powerful blow knocked the gun from her hand, and a strong grip dragged her into the room. Sven's face snarled at her.

"Well, if it isn't my favourite bitch." He smiled at her, "I don't need two hostages to get out of here. I'm going to enjoy killing you." He grabbed her throat with his left hand and slammed her up against the wall. Maria grabbed at his arm trying to make him release her, but he was too strong. He shoved her up the wall with brute strength until her feet left the floor. She struggled violently, trying to hit and kick him, but he just ignored her ineffectual blows. He had a knife in his other hand and he brought it up to her face, running it just under her right eye.

"Time to die." He stuck his face close to hers. She could see his aura clearly now, black with streaks of red, as the blood lust took him. He was enjoying this. Enjoying her struggling; enjoying watching her slowly die. She reached up and clawed at his face and eyes with her nails.

"Damn you!" he snarled. He put the knife in his belt and grabbed her arm, pinning it to the wall. Her vision started going blotchy. She was dimly aware of Nina screaming and attacking Sven, hitting him in the back. For a moment, the pressure eased and a single thought blazed through her mind. She wasn't going to die here, she wasn't going to let Nina die. She felt something change inside her as if a barrier had been breached. Sven kicked back at Nina, catching her in the thigh, and she went down with a cry. The pressure came back. She thought her neck was going to break. She reached down to her belt and pulled out David's knife. Just as things started to go grey, and the world shrank away, she rammed it forward as hard as she could. The pressure came off immediately as Sven staggered back, the knife protruding from just under his rib cage. He looked down at the knife and then back at Maria who had crashed to the floor, gasping for breath and clutching at her damaged neck. Blood started to spread from the wound in Sven's side and drip onto the floor.

**

They reached the top of the stairs and cautiously looked up into the second floor. They could hear gunfire, loud and close. The hallway was a smouldering wreck from the grenades. Dead and unconscious men lay in the halls and rooms, marking the path of the battle. David recognised one of the bodies at the top of the stairs as one of John's friends, a pool of blood around his head and a ragged wound in his neck.

He was surveying the wreckage and trying to decide if it was safe to go down the hallway when Luke said urgently "David!"

He turned around to see Luke looking about. Maria was nowhere to be seen.

"She was right behind me," he explained.

"Ok. You go back to the ground floor. I'll check the first." They ran back down, and David moved carefully off down a hallway, calling Maria's name quietly. Luke descended to the lobby.

**

"Maria?" Luke's voice came from the hallway.

"Here. Sven's here." The sound that came from her throat was garbled and tortured.

Luke burst into the room, gun in hand. Sven threw himself at him. He might have been wounded, but he was still very quick. He smashed into Luke just as the gun went off, fired at point blank range. They both crashed to the floor. They fought for a moment then Luke threw Sven off and struggled backwards until he was half in and half out of the doorway. Sven rolled over clutching at his chest as blood blossomed out from the bullet wound. He started to rise. Luke fired again and Sven slumped to the floor and lay still. Luke was gasping for breath staring at the dead man in front of him.

"I looked behind and you weren't there. We looked but couldn't find you. David sent me to find you. I, I ..." he was gabbling.

"Thank you," she croaked and crawled over to throw her arms around him.

He hugged her back for a moment, and then he looked at her face. "You look different."

Maria looked at him as if he was mad but somehow, she knew he was right. She felt different.

**

David came to a door and opened it. Nothing. He went to the next. A large living room with huge wall to ceiling glass. Through it, he could see the dimmed lights of the city.

He took a half step inside to look around, and a bullet smacked into the doorjamb right next to him. He pulled his head back. Marco was down behind a heavy piece of furniture, probably looking for a way out past the attackers. He quickly stuck the gun around the door and fired off a quick shot, not really expecting to hit anything. Marco fired two more shots that thudded into the walls as David dived across the doorway, firing twice. One of his bullets hit the thick glass window behind Marco, punching a fist sized hole in it and creating a pattern of cracks like a giant spider web. Marco leapt out from behind the furniture and ran, firing at the doorway. Then there was a click as his gun went dry. David charged into the room and met him head on. The two traded vicious blows. David caught him with a hard, right hook and Marco staggered back, shaking his head to clear the effects of the blow. He looked at David with hatred in his eyes then at the doorway behind him. David tucked his gun into his belt. Marco grabbed a heavy light stand and swung it at David like a mace. David stepped back. Marco screamed and swung it again. It was a poor choice of weapon to use in an enclosed space, and the base of the light stand crashed into the doorframe. David took the opportunity and charged into Marco, driving him back. They both crashed to the floor. They grappled for a moment then Marco managed to get a foot up, shoved David off him, and leapt to his feet. David stood up slowly, eyes locked on Marco's face. Marco stepped back under the sheer intensity of that gaze. He didn't see the low foot stool behind him, and his heel caught on it. He tripped backward, his arms cartwheeling momentarily before he slammed into the window. For a second, the shattered window supported him, then it gave way, and with a cry, Marco fell backwards out of the window. David walked over and looked down. Marco lay sprawled on the paving below in a slowly spreading pool of blood.

**

David ran back into the hallway. As he did, he heard a shot and then another ring out from below and charged down the stairs. He found Luke and Maria standing in the room, staring at the dead body of Sven. A second young woman stood in the room. David recognised her as Nina, Maria's friend. For a moment, he wondered why she was there, and then remembered rumours of Ballock and his tastes in the bedroom. Sven and Marco weren't just causing trouble the other night, they were on the hunt, gathering entertainment for Ballock.

He strode over to Maria and hugged her. "Are you ok?"

"My neck hurts," she said lamely. He gave her another hug. He looked curiously at her for a moment but said nothing.

"You?" he asked Luke. Luke nodded without any real conviction.

"Well done! Thank you." He smiled at Luke.

"It might be safer if you stayed here Nina," he said. Nina shook her head, and he could see the terror in her face at the thought of being left alone.

"Ok. All of you. Stay with me this time."

They all ran up the stairs as fast as they could to the rooftop level. John and his men were pinned down in the corridor before the entrance. Ballock's guards were behind heavy concrete planters, firing at any sign of movement in the entrance. The helicopter was powering up, about to lift off.

"We can't get out there," he said to David. He turned to a couple of the men "Get back to the helicopter. That bastard is not going to get away. Shoot the damn thing down if you can."

He turned back to David. "The entrance way is too narrow. We can't get out there without exposing ourselves to the cross fire."

The helicopter left the ground. "Give me a Firestorm," he ordered one of the remaining men. The soldier immediately handed over his weapon. David switched it to full auto then tensed for just a moment before charging out the narrow entrance through the shattered remains of the glass doors to the rooftop garden. He moved so quickly, it seemed that everything had simply stopped. He saw the guards raising their weapons, he saw the helicopter starting to power away, its blades lazily rotating above it, Ballock's pale face, snarling in triumph, staring out of the Perspex window. In a fraction of a second, he was out in the open. He pulled the trigger, sweeping the blaze of electric energy across the rooftop ̶ raking the guards ̶ and then up into the sky where it engulfed the helicopter. The machine was lit up for a second, then its systems fried, its engine died, and it started to fall from the sky. The helicopter had barely begun its arc toward the ground when its fuel ignited and the machine disintegrated with a colossal explosion. David stood there and watched the burning fragments drop to the ground as the thunder from the weapon and the explosion reverberated around the hills. Then he threw the weapon to the ground and his head dropped.

John's men poured out to check the unconscious guards. As they did so, they flicked nervous glances at David, almost unable to comprehend what they had just seen. Maria approached him cautiously and reached out to touch his arm. He looked up at her, his face desolate. She didn't know what to say, so she just put her arms around him and held him tight. John came into view and caught her eye, giving her a nod of approval before moving away.

27: Pandemic

John came over and lightly touched David's arm. "We need to leave."

David nodded. "I know. We can't take the helicopters. Let's see what vehicles we can find, and get everyone back to the ship." David bent his head to give Maria a kiss before he separated himself from her arms. They located some security vans on the ground and drove quickly away from the hilltop mansion before the police patrols arrived.

As they drove through the city, they came across thousands of happy people out on the streets celebrating what they saw as a new beginning. The police were nowhere to be seen. David thought back to 1945 and the day the war ended. The mood was the same. At last, a smile began to creep over his face. They had won this battle at least.

It took them hours to negotiate the crowds and the blocked streets. David hadn't thought to give the hackers any instructions on when to turn the traffic lights and billboards back to normal. They had decided to take matters into their own hands when they realised things had won, and had turned the billboards into a kind of psychedelic light display that was pulsing to the beat of the music they were broadcasting through the system. The city itself was in party mode.

When they arrived back at the ship, only a single light was shining and all was quiet. They went up the gangplank to find Bik calmly sitting on deck drinking a cup of tea. David ran over and gave her a huge hug, lifting her off her feet.

"Idiot, you'll spill my tea," she complained.

"Just happy to see you're ok."

"Of course I am," she replied, sounding almost offended.

"Peter and Rebekah?"

"Were dancing in the street last time I saw them. I'm sure they'll come home when they're ready."

"I think we've all earned a drink!" John said as he clapped David on the arm. "Cheer up, we won!"

David smiled. "Absolutely. Thank you for all you've done tonight."

John looked at him seriously. "No problem." He paused for a moment, "You know there was no other way. We couldn't let him get tried and thrown into prison. He was a mass-murderer. He would have been sentenced to life."

"I know. I just would have liked to avoid any deaths if I could. Have you heard anything about Gabe?"

He shook his head. "No, the phones aren't working, but he's in good hands and he's tough. He'll pull through."

David nodded. "Peter keeps the good stuff above the sink in the galley."

"Now you're talking." John limped away.

**

A while later he sat down with Maria on the deck, staring out into the dark sea. Each held a glass of champagne. He put his arm around her and kissed her on the head

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Shaky. My neck hurts and I can't get the feeling of the knife going into Sven out of my mind, nor the sight of him dying on the floor in front of me."

"I know. It'll get better with time."

She nodded.

"Sven deserved everything he got," David said. "He would have killed you, Nina and Luke without a second thought. He wouldn't have felt any regret; he would have enjoyed it. You had no choice, and you saved Nina from who-knows-what horrors and certain death."

"I know, but even then, I hate what I did."

"Good. You should. Killing someone is a terrible thing. I hope you never have to do that ever again." He paused and looked around. "Where is Nina by the way?"

"I put her in one of the cabins and gave her a sleeping pill. She's in a bad way."

David was quiet for a long while. "You've changed."

"Who wouldn't have after what I've been through over the last few days."

"Sure, but that's not really what I mean. You can't see your own aura, so you can't see that it's changed."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "People keep saying I'm different."

"Before, it was a pale golden colour, very faint. Now you're more like me. It's like you're bathed in golden fire."

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"I don't know yet." He took her hand and they sat silently, staring off into the sea as the sky started to lighten toward dawn.

**

Later the next day David was sitting out on the deck, cradling a cup of coffee and contemplating the sea. The others were either sleeping or having some food.

The door creaked open, and he turned to see Maria, John and Nina come out onto the deck.

"David," John's tone was serious. "You need to hear this."

They came over and both Maria and John looked expectantly at Nina. The bruise on the young woman's face was turning a sickly, purple colour. She looked awful and was trembling slightly.

"Take your time Nina," David said. She nodded weakly.

"Tell David what you told us about the plague," Maria said gently.

"When I was in that room..." her voice petered out. David simply waited for her to collect herself. "When I was in the room, Ballock would come... and afterwards..." she wiped a tear from her face and sniffed into a tissue. She took a deep breath, "he would tell me things. He would brag."

"Brag about what Nina?"

"He used to call humanity 'animals' as if he was better than everyone else. He would say we were a plague on the planet, and that he was going to put an end to the plague. Fight the plague with a plague he would say. He said he was part of some big plan, and that soon he would be part of a group that would rule the world." She stopped. "He was a fucking madman."

"Yeah, he was," David agreed. "Thank you, Nina. If there's anything I can do to help you, let me know."

She nodded. "I just want to go home."

"Ok."

Maria led her back inside.

"What do you think Ballock meant about a plague?" John asked.

David looked at him. "I think he was referring to the plague in India. I have a strong suspicion it's not a natural event."

"Why would they start a plague? Surely not to cull people?" John asked. "Even Zhukov isn't that crazy."

"How different would the world be if most of the humans died of a plague? Easier to control? Ballock was positioning himself to be in control when the dying started."

"I find that hard to believe. Why would anyone want to rule a graveyard?" John shook his head.

David said distantly "I don't know. But this is far from over."

**

"Now we go to our India correspondent with breaking news. Mahesh, can you confirm that the containment in the slums has failed, and the plague has spread out of Delhi?"

"Cathy, I'm afraid that you're correct. New outbreaks have been reported in Agra, Varanasi, and just a short while ago in Goa. We've even had unconfirmed reports that there have been cases in other countries: Pakistan, Bangladesh and China. This is becoming a global pandemic. The virus is spreading faster than the authorities can move to contain it. There have even been suggestions that the virus is being deliberately spread...."

TO BE CONTINUED
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, please leave me a review at your favourite retailer.

Thanks.

Paul Broatch

Acknowledgements

My thanks to my lovely wife Andrea, for all her help and encouragement. She was the first to read the manuscript and fixed my many typing and grammatical errors. Any remaining errors are entirely my responsibility (however my wife says they're entirely our responsibility).

The idea of a piece of the divine being in all living things came from a book called 'The Pagan Christ' by Tom Harpur 2004.

Most of the weapons depicted in the book are fictional but are based on ideas that have been trialled or are under development.

The Firestorm is a type of electrolaser or a Laser Induced Plasma Channel. Such a device is being developed at the Picatinny Arsenal military research facility in New Jersey. Wikipedia.org/wiki/Electrolaser and  www.gizmag.com/laser-induced-plasma-channel/23117/

Of even more concern is that some of the crowd control measures used in the book are already in existence. The truck mounted directed energy weapon is based on the U.S. military Active Denial System. Informally it is called the 'heat ray' which evokes memories of H.G Wells War of the Worlds. It works in a similar way to a microwave oven, exciting the water in the skin and heating it. It is not a microwave though, and has minimal penetration. It has caused burns in a small number of cases. Tests showed human test subjects could only endure a few seconds' exposure. It seems to me while it may be effective, there is a serious risk of misuse, intentional or otherwise.

Net guns are already used to capture animals and several net guns are commercially available. Net guns for crowd control are under development and the idea of electrifying such weapons has been mentioned.

Wikipedia.org/wiki/Riot control also has some interesting information on tactics and equipment in use or development for riot control.

**Discover other titles by Paul Broatch**

### Running the Rift

A rookie Guardian straight out of training and an innocent girl flee a group of relentless alien hunters along the giant rift valley on the surface of an ancient ice planet. An action packed non-stop race through an alien world as two young people fight to survive a group of killers inexplicably bent on their destruction.

### The Worlds Within

The Corin were an advanced alien race that disappeared leaving nothing behind except a series of enigmatic walls scattered across the galaxy. When archaeologist Jason Dodds makes a chance discovery while investigating a Wall on a remote planet, it leads him and a team of soldiers accompanying him, to a meeting with a hidden civilization and into the middle of a war that has been raging for hundreds of years. Pursued by enemies and against all odds, can they save the Earth and an alien civilization?

