

  1. All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without crediting the author.

ISBN-13: 9780463723876

ISBN-10:

Cover illustration by: kittisak Thangrod

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# Prologue

Under the morning rays of a New York City sun, traffic was terrible. Nevertheless, energy circulated around every corner of the streets. Just another restless Tuesday cologned with gasoline, propane, and coffee. Grind to grind, shot to shot, and dog to dog, people learned to get along with the hassles of one sunrise and the next.

Posters littered the dirty canvas of urban sprawl: corners, fronts, and apartment sides. Everywhere, paperback letters hurled warnings about political affiliations. But the news was of no concern to the street artist; not to the performer, the demo distributor or entrepreneur, and not the morning jogger.

Man's relief from the terror of the morning workday – Smiles. Sometimes they were scarce, despite the homeless man on the corner of Greenwich and Fulton promoting them with a cardboard sign. Alas, the aim of a weekday, even a sunny one, was to keep moving.

So, a single vagrant kept going. He contemplated, second-guessed, and watched, through thick sunglasses, the day-to-day minutia.

"Watch the road!"

He could barely hear the exclamation outside his headphones, but turned his attention left, toward the street, and found the middle finger outside of a taxi window.

Muffled vehicle engines, ghostly faces under urban boughs. He passed the whites and reds of cement and brick, in the direction of the tallest building he could find, past another tall building. Another squirrel crossed his gaze, past the solemn structure with arches for windows and a cross in the center. Greenery gathered underfoot until he reached the wet squares of New York City's most recent memorial.

Among the souls visiting the park—venturing through bushes, meditating throughout concrete—he missed one peculiar pedestrian stuck in a phone. He was a young Caucasian wearing a green hoodie, casual jeans, and thick-rimmed glasses. The smartphone maneuvered him, guided his eager steps as he failed to see the impending trench coat.

"Ah!" The student grabbed the pool's edge to avoid falling. In recovery, he finally saw the wanderer.

The wanderer, a taller man enclosed in a white trenchcoat, stood upright and unfazed. His hands reverted to the rim of his thick sunglasses.

Meagerly, the student jerked upright; his gaze fell on the sunglasses and large headphones over a beanie. Only vestiges of pale skin underneath.

"Apologies!" the stranger exclaimed.

"That may have been my fault," said the student, scratching his head before returning to his phone. "Damn, almost had a Squirtle."

"No matter. It may be that I could have avoided you if my thoughts would only return to what they were."

The student escaped his phone after catching an air of remorse. They had collided by a pool, a grand square of black reflection. Placing the device in his pocket, he looked back at the names inscribed in marble rim before turning back.

"Did you lose someone? If you did, I didn't mean to offend. Well, I never mean to offend."

But the stranger shook his head. "These are not the names clouding my thoughts."

"Just out for a stroll? Procrastinating? Same."

"I do wish it were a simple stroll..." And the strange man's eyes swept the ground. Quickly, he looked up. "Excuse us. Questions, they keep stirring in my mind. Can I confide in a stranger like yourself to answer just a few?"

The student shrugged. "I guess. I got some time before classes."

"You attend an academy?" The stranger inched closer.

The student eyed him. "Yea, I go to a University."

"Which one?"

"Columbia."

"One of the good ones, yes?"

"Heh. You aren't from around here."

"It is, as they say, a long stor—" He seemed tiredly mid-sentence. "We should sit down."

They paced backward a few feet, to a bench guarded by white oaks. As they awkwardly sat in view of the black water, the cool November breeze set in, and the wanderer wasted no time. "Do you think the planet is in a fair state?"

With a wince, the student replied, "Kinda depends."

"Because you do not know? Or because it is a question that cannot be answered?"

"I mean, it could be better. But it could always be better, right? It's a really broad question."

And the stranger looked away, twiddling his thumbs in silence. "I suppose you are right." Then he returned more eagerly. "What of these posters around the city? Could your election improve things?"

The student cynically scoffed, a white smile painting his face. But a few seconds into the question, the smile faded, and his demeanor retreated into sobriety. "I... Things aren't looking great. And I can't really explain how it ended up that way. Maybe if you asked a Political Science major." Looking over at the wanderer's lap, he noticed his latex thumbs still twiddling and his knees quietly trembling. "Are you okay, man?"

"Yes!" he wobbled. "I've just been without my, umm... Something once calmed me."

"A medication?"

"Yes! A medication! For the past few months, I have been without this medication, and I don't perceive anything as I once did."

An emphatic look then dropped from the student to the stranger. "So that's why"—he coughed—"Why go without your medication?"

"I've been here for too long, thus exhausted all of it. There is no more."

"You try a pharmacy?"

"I know it does not exist here. Only where I'm from."

"Well, you can Amazon that stuff. Or something. What's it called?"

"Hmm?"

"The name of the medication."

But the wanderer sighed, losing himself in thought and the overcast. He stood from their bench and made eye contact one last time. "What is your name?"

"It's Adam," said the student.

"Adam from Columbia. I wish you grace on your path, and hope what comes next only befits your aspirations."

"I appreciate that," Adam said, extending his hand. "What's your name?"

The wanderer stared at the hand suspiciously, at first, then met the student's grip with his own, answering, "Mik'ael."

"Mick Al. Nice meeting you."

"And you."

They parted ways, one toward the memorial and the other sauntering into the city's tallest tower nearby.

"See Forever." Darkness in the elevator. After a long ascent in a dimly lit box, hundreds of years fell before Mik'ael's eyes. A winding screen depicted the relatively brief history of this part of the city. Something about the towers' disappearance on-screen had made him nervous, lament almost.

Afterward, he entered a queue alongside the same group of people who accompanied his elevator ride. Together, they crossed shadows and light that painted the room a dark blue, flanked by bright tapestries of New York City, that lit every step on the path towards See Forever Theater.

Being nervous wasn't going to help him or anyone else. He knew that. It's the right thing, he mentally repeated over and over again. Then the blackness came undone, the walls rising, rising on all sides, to let the sun beam through every window. Despite all his years, he could barely recount anything so mesmerizing. New York City's morning glory reigned nowhere more apparent than it did high inside One World Trade Center.

A stream of emotions struck with the sunlight. Its careening morning melody gravitated him towards the windows as he stared across the Hudson. He had to calm his breathing.

Everyone else dispersed throughout the room, taking pictures, tapping tablets, and posing by the grand view. Contrarily, he simply stared and loaded everything he saw into memory. How to proceed from here, however, that question thumped his heart.

Rebounding from his long inhale of the city, he looked down, away from everything but the floor. After a long and sorrowful sigh, he eventually returned his gaze. The lack of clouds in the sky made it seem rather empty.

"I wonder how events would have transpired..."

Finally, he removed his glasses and beheld New York's Jewel through unadulterated vision, through bright yellow Irises. He removed his headphones, his beanie, and let his long, tapered ears hear without muffles. A figment of his likeness reflected off the window, a pale complexion that was unlike any human.

Near the apex of the One World Trade Center, Mik'ael treated himself to one last peer beyond the screen, his final overlook of New York City below noon. Brief recollections of a starry sky accompanied visions, recollections unhindered by sun and light pollution. It was a nuanced place without a horizon, a limitless space. He contemplated the northernmost pole to the southernmost; he debated his lot in life and on the planet before peering toward the future. So, his eyes rose to the sky, slave to the anticipation of a presence already weighing on his shoulders. Then he checked his watch, which flashed a red light and jargon text. Reluctant as he felt, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled a plastic firearm.

The trigger ejected a transparent substance onto the window panes. As the liquid made contact, it dematerialized everything it touched: the glass quickly melted and oozed its way down to the floor.

A middle-aged woman noticed a thin veil of smoke rise from where Mik'ael was standing, then noted the strange device in his hand. From knee-jerk terror, she screamed, "Someone stop him!" and immediately called the room's attention.

Every tourist gaped with delayed horror. The closest visitors jerked away, while the woman yelped in tears, embracing the old man next to her as tower security sprinted forward.

Two suit-and-tie guards stopped in front of Mik'ael, their pistols pointed down. "Sir!" one of them called. He grew nervous upon noticing the culprit's alien facial features. Since staring achieved no explanation, the other guard proceeded.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to back away from the window, put down your weapon, and get on your knees with your hands up."

"It's not a weapon," Mik'ael replied. "Just a tool."

Everybody watched, rattled as a gaping hole formed on the screen window. The glass touched the floor as a viscous material, emanating smoke beside the stranger's feet. It blew over them with the rushing wind that entered the room and chilled their sanguine faces. Inevitably, panic levels increased.

At this point, both security guards were pointing their Glock barrels directly at Mik'ael's head. "Sir, this is your last warning!" A warning slightly muffled by the high-altitude wind.

Nothing changed. Mik'ael stepped outside the window cavity when the foremost guard fired his weapon. The loud bang made everyone jump; hands over their ears, their instinctive duck came with screams.

But when the ringing stopped, only the wind remained, and people opened their eyes to the sight of Mik'ael by the window completely unharmed and comporting a casual look. The guards were smacked by awe as Mik'ael continued outside and set his feet on thin air.

He floated upright against the New York City backdrop, turned from the frightened group of people and, again, observed the magnificent city sprawl in its entirety. Floating further back before the grand length of One World Trade Center, he rotated three-sixty degrees. The view buried his thoughts, throwing a grin on his face while the wind massaged his scalp. The plan never involved being enraptured; he simply succumbed.

He was no less awed than the witnesses, who took pictures from behind the new hole in the window. Beaming, they eventually noticed his boots and the strange wave emitted underneath. Assuming this wasn't a magic trick, something from the boots kept him airborne.

As mesmerized as Mik'ael was, in his levitational musing, a tick and blue light from his smartwatch brought him back to the real world. Dismay caught him, his thoughts silent as he stared at the strange letters onscreen. When his conscience found its voice, he remembered what he had to do.

Solemn, sober, and prepared, he upturned to the sea of sky. The boots carried him farther, up to the spire, slowly toward the peak.

Dauntingly elevated, Mik'ael had a vantage of the world's curve. At the stakes of the great skyscraper's beacon, he grabbed onto the metal and stared down the enormous length of steel, while his legs remained free to swoon in the air.

Helicopter rotors echoed in the wind, nearing, loudening. More choppers began a circuitous patrol nearby. A new noise then took his ears, not of the wind or helicopters. Jet engines. Military aircraft soared in New York City's airspace, looming at eye level as their wings deftly navigated the horizon.

On the peak of New York City's tallest skyscraper, he waited. Several jets populated the sky now, environing him with the screech of burning fuel. That's when they came.

The first one eclipsed the sun, a behemoth of a craft whose mass literally engulfed Brooklyn in shadow. Panic, wonder, fear—all solicitations of the unknown came with their arrival.

The sky darkened, a second ship arriving just above Mik'ael. It was a solid, opaque mass looming adversely to the god rays in its descent. Mik'ael watched them consume the sun.

As he removed his watch, he stared down the overhead behemoth. Fist to the sky, his bitterness suddenly prevailed when a grand and resonant bell expelled from the ship. A chaotic dance of wind, turbines, and echoes then fondled him, mid-air, never once removing his relentless gaze from the dark mass.

"I have what you wanted!"

Smothered by the sounds of a frightened city devolving into Pandemonium, Mik'ael stared at the ship as if awaiting a response. Rage accompanied his sun-colored eyes.

"I have what you wanted! Show me what your word means, Xynocephles, and do as you promised!"

#

# 

# Chapter 1 Dreams of Yet Another Retro Geek

"Babel" Her watch beeped. "Play Sweet Dreams by Eurythmics." Then came that electronic beat, a fantastic sequenced synth bass line. She listened to the synchronous drum and stared over the skyline from a sixteen-story complex, a view beholden to its fair share of skyscrapers and flying cars in the rising Summer sun. Hover lanes soared at separate altitudes of glittering streaks. The morning light rose over them and the many top-floor domes, transparent bio-domes graced the top levels of the most modern buildings. The best views of the modern city offered by the modern city, yet the view could only hope to beat the ginormous Pepsi billboard on the nearby skyscraper.

"All that blue, red, and white; all that red, white, and blue," she sighed.

Bio-domes were the upper echelon of skyline real estate, reserved for greener pasture persons. Jessica sat on a regular concrete roof that happened to have stairs, though she seldom found a use for stairs.

She sat care-free on the precipice of old-fashioned concrete while city sounds came to and fro, memorizing the city plan until she heard the door burst open several yards behind her. Her watch, 9:30 on the dot. "Predictable." She then lip-synced to the security guard.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be up here!" he growled.

She turned and saw her reflection in a pair of sunglasses: fitted black pants creasing around the ankles, and a pair of mismatched shoes outer-soled with metal. Her red vest was a blast of color, underneath which her black t-shirt emblazoned a cross-armed robot. She lifted her polymer gauntlet, lowering to lock eyes beneath a pair of goggles. Sun-grazed hazel eyes laughed underneath a jagged black shag and aviator lenses that, in turn, mirrored the guard's angry mug.

He was an average Joe, bound in blank gear around his arms and legs. Across his utility belt, he carried a smoke grenade and cartridges for the stun gun on his right holster.

His scrunched face definitely resented her presence on the roof. That hat with a shield stitched, it fired an aura of authority that glared with its meaninglessness.

"I'm a rebel, so it's okay," she told him. "McFly," and the board under her arm extended several inches. At the drop, it hovered beside her feet. When the guard advanced, she hopped on-deck and floated to the ledge. Cracking a wide, playful grin she dove off the ledge.

Stupefied, the guard lunged forward. He found the young woman angled ninety degrees, cruising down the column, and her board never touched the building; it hovered over the windows as she leaned backward. Thus, in lieu of a teen spread all over the pavement, the view was a casual wave goodbye and a smile as she touched down.

Welcome to New Sumer, Eden of the Anglo-AllianceHolo-skits of people in their jumpsuits, staring at tall and stain-free buildings by the sunrise. Similar animations played throughout the modern sprawl, non-stop. Jessica observed everyone in haphazardly surfing the streets.

"Watch where you're going!"

She countered, "Eyes off your phone, Jackass!

Jessica - A peek into the identification screen of her e-card gave the basics.

Last Name: Leibniz

First Name: Jessica

Height: 180 cm

Address: 3254 Apple Mire, Suite 13

PD (Population Designation): S1867222

DOB: 03/15/2110

Occupation: Sustenance Delivery. Because 'food' or 'fast-food' delivery is too informal. Then you get the awkward mugshot. Nothing out of the ordinary, just a stone face, longer hair, and a thin white suit that passed for a school uniform. A full-body picture would show the accompanying red skirt—not because aliens believe in gender roles but because they find its implementation ingenious to telling sexes apart, despite the fact that the alien physiognomy is negligibly different.

Everywhere, a rainbow of advertisements showcased alien and human, side by side. One preached the issues burning carbon, while another lectured on proper recycling habits. And the list goes on.

"Sing to me with more fake voices."

The biggest propaganda board always came with a big font and the chipper female voiceover: "Make the year 2129 another testament to the success of Earth-Azarea relations. Be sure to report any suspicious persons to your local law enforcement."

"And by 'persons' you mean humans. Silly space elves."

Azareans were an odd species, so far as Earthlings were concerned. They were stoic, sharper—whether or not a result of their stoic nature was a matter of some debate—and the ones on Earth had light and unblemished skin. Aside from uniform paleness, they also had pointy ears, which made common folk wonder if the spacefarers came from Middle-Earth. To put an epitaph on that stupid discourse, the aliens officially denied all affiliations to Tolkien. Nevertheless, people took to calling them "space elves" while prolific readers of Fantasy tried communicating with them in Quenya. Unique ears, eyes, and complexion distinguished the space-elf species. One other, unpleasant method was talking to them.

Jessica passed under a shaded sidewalk, floated right past a man in a satin coat, noting his alien eyes of violet and how they scowled, then mockingly bowed at his glare without the care to stop.

Azareans irises ranged into the spectrum ranged of reds, oranges, yellows, and violets. Once again, she contemplated the physiological reason for this trait, but it remained a mystery like most aspects of this species that technically ruled the planet. She didn't like mysteries.

"'Some of them want to use you'—Shit!"

She nearly tripped over the egg near the corner crosswalk. Looking back, it was one of many knee-high robots: white, shiny, and smooth little mechanical bodies floating along the streets. When active, their only expression was two bright green ovals on a black monitor. Thanks to these little bots, clean pavement littered the streets.

Litter being hugely frowned upon, a recycle bot could be found around every city block. Their smooth shells withheld utensils that picked trash and dispensed it into many properly labeled receptacles: aluminum, glass, plastic, paper, carbon fiber, nuclear waste, and the color-coding goes on. 'Unknown' trash went into the sad face bin. The bots always got it right, however. Polished surfaces explained why Jessica nearly tripped; their paint jobs matched the pavement.

Overhead traffic curtailed as the bicycle lanes opened. Jessica mused over the speed of her board without its inhibitors, which would make it illegal. She skated near a pair of cyclists until one of them, a stalky blonde, noticed her riding alone. His smile was whiter than the pavement when his front wheel hit a hydrant. And the poor cyclist lost his grip, front-flipping on his back. Fortunately for him, his collar-bound airbag deployed. Suppressing the urge to laugh out loud, Jessica leaned over his body.

"Are you alright?" she said.

"I'm good!" he moaned, trying to play it off.

"Well, I would go to the dentist if I were you."

"Why the dentist?"

"Because you just ate shit!"

Useful technology, the airbags. Sophisticated. They inflated around the body to cushion the biker's impact, and fit into a waterproof collar. Jessica had a rare moment to appreciate their effectiveness, and remember why she wore one.

At the end of the housing clusters, Jessica reached a corner complex: eight stories of blue windows surrounded by lush oaks. Just down that sidewalk, she glanced at a park where hipsters played old-fashioned basketball.

Inside the complex, she uttered "But doc," retracted and hopped off the gravity board, then gleefully skipped past the scanner. "Good morning, Misty. Welcome back."

Up the elevator, after the fifth floor, she scurried across pink carpet and white plaster until she reached the sliding door with number 59 illuminated. Her e-card triggered the sliding door, on the other side of which she rediscovered a pair of armoires that framed the center window. Only a mild glint of tinted sunlight bounced off the violet walls. Otherwise, her suite was as plain as the bed and armoire attached, with its black sheets and lacquered drawers beside.

Above the bedrest, a clothing rack held five of the same red, white, and green jumpsuits. Shelves below and to the side contained stacks of black tablets, but only the Stevie Nicks poster stood out.

Jessica cornered the clothing rack, replaced her casual getup with the red, white, and green jumpsuit, and it automatically shrunk to size. Nearly skin tight. To top it all off, she donned a green whose black font spelled Tacquizza. Board in hand, she departed.

***

"Thank you for ordering from Tacquizza, where your satisfaction is ours." Jessica maintained her widest smile—not very wide—while reciting the motto.

The customer, chest hair flushing out of a white tank top, ignored everything but the carriers in her hand. He appeared in his forties, balding, and had hairy arms. "You got here fast, at least," he said raspily.

Jessica presented the receipt on her tiny tablet. "Eight tacos: four carne asada, four el pastor, all with salsa and lettuce and a side of lemon."

"I didn't ask for lettuce."

"I know, but we're obligated," she replied matter-of-factly. "Insurance reasons."

"No tip for you, then!" He touched his thumb on the tablet, seized the carrier, and the door slid shut behind him.

"You're not supposed to tip me!"

36, 37, 38, 39...

"Thank you for ordering from Tacquizza, where your satisfaction is our satisfaction."

A youthful brunette, holding a crying baby, gawked from the doorway. "Right! Right!" she sighed. "Be right back!" When the woman returned, Jessica began reading the receipt out loud. "Is the chicken farm-raised?" the woman interrupted. "I just wanted to know because I read an article about how they cause no disease."

Jessica darted at the woman in disbelief, but she took a quiet breath and replied, "They are whatever you want them to be, ma'am." The woman nodded absently and accepted the box before sliding her card.

60. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7...

"Thank you for ordering from Tacquizza, where your satisfaction is our—"

"I placed the order over thirty minutes ago!" snarled the young student, whose stomach nearly blocked the entrance to his dorm room.

If he were any bigger, he would be illegal. That was a real thing – The Azareans outlawed obesity a long time ago because obesity reflects maltreatment of the self, and aliens were all about that self-loving. Few exceptions remained, however. Any uncontrollable medical problems, for instance, provided they were properly diagnosed.

Darting her eyes side to side and cupping her chin, Jessica double-checked her tablet and found the time the order was placed. "Martin Haussman?" she asked.

"Yes!"

The screen read 13:14. Four more seconds to 13:35. She watched the minute strike from 13:34 to 13:35 on her watch. Who taught you how to count? she wanted to say. Rather, she politely reminded him that no payment meant no food.

Begrudgingly, the student inserted his card, mumbling something in German, to which Jessica replied "Das ist unhöflich, Ruck." She delivered the carrier and left.

Later that afternoon, outside another terrace home. "Food's here," Jessica said, and the door slid open. On the other side stood a boy of about twelve years. He had short hair, brown skin, and looked stalky in a white shirt whose tapered letters spelled Iron Coffin.

"Apa!" the boy exclaimed, looking away. A man in his thirties, wearing a yellow jumpsuit, stepped in front of the entrance.

"Hello!" he said with a silky accent. "What do I owe you?"

"Treinta créditos," she replied.

"Hablas español?"

"Si hablo español."

"De qué tipo?"

"Puertorriqueño, y conozco un poco de España."

"Órale, jefa!"

"Ich spreche auch Deutsch. Beide sind nützlich."

"Calmate, jefa. Ya no sé lo que estás diciendo."

After an exchange of exclamations, the man paid with a final comment on the deliciousness of the pizza. "Que te valla bien!"

"A ti tambien!"

It was the difference between a bad day and a good day.

By her estimation, the current time was 15:47. Glancing her watch, she saw the time was 15:47. "Thank goodness for five-hour workdays."

At the base of the terrace stairs, she fastened her goggles before peeking at the low sun. "McFly." She rode to the next sidewalk corner, due east.

Pythagoras came to mind as Jessica hovered down the sidewalk, around a park of pines. New Sumer's sprawl was a series of circular neighborhoods, the tallest buildings in the center. The Azareans praised the Parisians for being among the first to exemplify such urban planning—even though many would argue the French did not plan deliberately. Also, Azarean plans allowed more living space. Modern communities accommodated larger populations per square mile than pre-alien society.

They could accommodate more humans if they so choose but understand that we're not sardines.

"Stop Playback."

Pine Rim Hovels read the wooden sign with green pines and a rising sun. Like Jessica's complex, its walk-through scanner spoke as she whimsically walked by.

"Welcome, guest of suite 31."

Lithely, grinning, she skipped down a red carpet that ran the gamut of ivory walls. She carried another box carrier all the way down, down to the sliding room door number 31.

Inside the apartment room, Jessica saw the back of a sofa draped with long, white hair. The head turned and revealed the face of an elderly woman, whose smile the sun envied. "Hey Jess," she said warmly.

"Heeeey, Beth." Jessica lifted the box. "Know what I brought? The usual. See, you didn't even have to guess. It's got that special cheese and e'erything."

Beth's sofa lay beside a blue cabinet, whose color that warped into the flanking dresser and walls. The blue came in spiral shades, like the deep sea. And before the elder woman there lay an ottoman, its holoprojector playing the news: TNN, a live segment where aliens and humans conversed in satin.

Jessica ay the carrier on the kitchen counter.

"...The New Pharaoh of Egypt recently held a conference with delegates from The Chinese Confederacy in order to renegotiate the budget for trans-national infrastructure. Namely..."

Beth broke away from the hologram. "Jess," she said. "I prepared tea and forgot. Be fantastic and turn on the kiln, would you?"

After tapping the stove interface, Jessica placed a stool on one end of the sofa.

"Anything new happen today?" Beth began.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," she said, taking a seat.

"That's strange for someone who sees everything."

"Nah. Some customers cool and-or respectable, and the usual normies who need help in this spotless cesspool. By the way, my average travel time rounded to thirteen minutes"

"Less than last time."

"Chya! Barely, considering the district stretches twelve miles in every direction. Tacquizza leaves a six-mile radius every way."

"You travel that fast on your board?" Beth asked with a hint of concern.

"Maybe..."

"Well, maybe you need to be careful. The worst part of your being reckless is that I have to sound old and tell you to be careful, and that's just not okay, Jess. You take pleasure in making me feel old?" She flicked at the gravity board below Jessica's feet

"I got my airbag!" Jessica said, pointing to her collar. "I have to be quick, Beth. Remember? Customer interactions are variables. There was that one time this chic made me wait thirty minutes to have money transferred to her account. My OCD kicked in; interactions should not exceed delivery time."

"Well, at least you're a dedicated worker. You're a good delivery... girl skater."

"Well, I'm no half-assed, weird-assed delivery girl on a skateboard."

Beth laughed softly. "You must be very busy because I have yet to find better than Tacquizza's tacos. Pizza's not terrible either."

"Other places are just stingy with the meat. That's all it is. Customers don't like itty bitty pieces cut into another dimension."

"Anything to make meat invisible, Jess. Azareans have that curious little attitude toward meat."

"I know you're being sarcastic, but Tacquizza is family-owned, you know? Owners don't treat the cows like meat—that sounds weird. Animal husbandry is sophisticated. Sophisticated is what it is. So, you have the aliens funding the diets so long as the animals aren't treated like dirt... or animals. English is terrible, and I'm getting bored talking about this. "

Beth snickered. "You get tired of knowing everything, hmm?"

"What are ya watching?" Jessica pointed at the hologram.

"Television."

Smirking. "What is on the television?"

"That political stuff kids don't much care for, or adults for that matter. World 'leaders' debating who gets more water."

"Is water becoming scarce again?"

"No, they just want more of it."

"Ah."

"Russia keeps threatening to leave the World Union, for the seventeenth-thousandth time." Beth shook her head. "A lot of hot smoke, but that doesn't stop anyone from saying they'll do this or do that."

"Way more childish than your great grandfather's time, right?"

Beth tapped the sofa cushion next to her, and Jessica sat in a pretzel beside her, removing her colorful hat and setting it on her knee.

"You spend quite a bit of time outside," Beth started. "Do you see a lot of violence while you're out there?"

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Conflict, yea. Violence, almost never."

"My father told me things that he learned from his father, and his father before that. Great Grandpapa..." Beth turned her whole body, brandishing her six-sided star necklace. "He was a passionate man in a time where passions were misplaced. He reserved his passion for everyday people and justice. In his time, people killed one another because of something as silly as skin color. And people with so much money—all the money the world—could skirt the law, break promises, and control governments without running for office."

Jessica listened with eyes like a lynx, intent upon Beth's every word. Her intensity entailed a measure of disbelief, but she was fascinated all the same.

"So, what did your great-grandfather do?"

"Well, he kept going, and going, and going, and he almost became a figure who could enforce a revolution."

"I know the end of this story..."

More somberness from Beth's eyes. "It means the world to me that he tried, but this has become a very gloomy conversation. You shouldn't be putting up with an old woman's gloominess, Jess."

"Pero Beth, I'm too curious. Only reason I don't ask about it is because I don't want to bother you, too much."

"You most certainly do not bother me. Only every time you visit."

Jessica and Beth exchanged glances before they burst into laughter. Beth leaned in and wrapped Jessica in a bear hug. Her tall figure always engulfed yet never overwhelmed.

"I listened to that song you like, the other day," Beth mumbled. "It's older than me."

Jessica gently parted from her arms. "Which of the thousands?"

"The one with the guitar, where the girl sings about bad reputations."

"You're welcome." Jessica checked her watch. "Frak, I have to go."

"Oh, yea?"

"It's about time to go nocturnal."

"Whelp, I won't keep you. Just be sure to stay safe and—I did it again."

Jess put on her hat, grabbed her board, and made her way to the door. "See you, Beth."

"Guten nacht, Jess. And noches buenas. Did I get it?"

Jessica grinned. "Yep. And almost." When the door slid open, she departed.

Outside the door to Beth's room, she reflected. Every night in that apartment was rejuvenating. She needed nothing more.

***

"Welcome back, Jessica." Back to her little room, number 59. First, she slid her finger down the white pad beneath Stevie Nicks. "Autobots, roll out!" It flickered a tiny red light that quickly burned blue.

All of a sudden, the room's furniture shifted. The bed flipped upward and disappeared into the hanger closet while both shelves began sliding toward each other, to the center. Very quickly, the layout had transformed.

To the left, where the shelf used to be, rested a kiln counter-top. A mannequin decorated the far-left corner, outfitted with a blue Star Fleet uniform; her skin tingled every time she remembered the bidding war. The prized possession looked flashy next to her second most prized possession, the coffee maker.

Directly to the right was a new standout feature, a crescent desk attached to the wall. The arrangement came with a keyboard, mouse, and a black holoprojector whose slithery shell matched the sleek desktop underneath. The desktop bore black and blue grooves, blue with a neon glow. Also, it had stickers.

The arrangement had its own desk and a mesh chair that unfolded from the shelf, a very special chair because it had wheels. On either side of the cone projector were two figurines: R2D2 on the right, BB-8 on the left. Dominating the wall, a large poster displayed white letters: R, W, B, Y, and four female silhouettes in a polychromatic background of red, white, dark grey, and yellow respectively.

Finally, the shelf revealed a silk screen divider. Jessica unfolded the screen around her little nook, shielding herself with the bat symbol. Once obscured, she sat upright. "Babel, on."

"Voice signature recognized." Several monitors illuminated above the projector, together rendering the hi-res image of a wild feline. "Good evening, Lynx."

#

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#

# 

# Chapter 2 The White Hat I Wear

"Goliath, Inc."

While rail lines, high-tech trains, sleek aircraft, and floating houses played on separate holo-screens, a female voiceover sang exposition: "Goliath Corp., proudly serving humanity since 2021. Goliath stands at the cutting-edge of innovation through the support of advanced ALI interfacing—"

"Skip."

Jessica rolled in her chair, toward the shelves. She pulled a tablet from the row K and hit the desktop. After powering the tablet, an ad popped: 'Back to the Future: The Re-remake now available on Tundra.' She scowled. "Gotta remember to remove that feature," she muttered. In the section labeled Library, she tapped and searched until she found the e-book labeled Essays: First Series; underneath it, RWE. She scrolled with her left hand while the fingers of her right strummed the keyboard.

Typing, typing, typing. Jessica left the Goliath net page and input characters into a command prompt. All nine panels saw lines of green alphanumeric, scrolling like lightning while she read, and chewed on a slice of mushroom pizza.

Beep.

She looked up. Backspace. She wiped garlic on her uniform before calling the command prompt. On the first three screens, lines and lines of code glimmered. Several keys later, the computer highlighted particular strands of alphanumeric, across all tables, in red.

"No way." Away with the screens of code. "Call David from Goliath." The ringtone played over the profile picture of a green G. During the dial, she turned a knob on the projector.

A man in his thirties appeared before the screen. "Hello," he said, sandy face and the green hat spelling 'Goliath' on his head of short, dark hair. "Lynx," he continued, "you have something for me?"

"Remember that source code you said was uncrackable?"

***

Computer Software glimmered after the 7th-floor elevator, a precursor to the rows of terminals and white-collar coats. Instructions railed across a memo board, like the subheadings on a news channel, neon green sentenced under one name: Goliath. Paths on either side of the lacquered board led into a circumventing corridor with three adjacent doors. Three signs: a stick figure, a skirted stick figure, and a pointy-eared stick figure, followed by an office with the name David M., Director.

David's office was spacious enough for a sofa by the door. At the opposite end of his abode lay the terminal, where he stared into the live hologram of a lynx cat.

"Five days," said the lynx, whose voice was now that of a young Englishman. "I'm sending the functions to you now." Seconds passed before the hologram molded into green line after green line of code, two separate panels, certain characters highlighted in red. "What did you say your bit value was?"

"Five—"

"Five-twelve, right?"

David's jaw fell. "This doesn't make sense."

"Whoever developed this encryption, I hope they didn't expect to hide secrets or anything

"I need to verify this!"

"Be my guest. It's in your email."

Moments of frantic silence passed in which David opened and downloaded Lynx's attachments from his NovaMail account.

Contact: Lynx

Subject: awww shiiiet xoxo

Diagrams crossed the projector as he analyzed the data, total focus in his eyes.

"So, how was your day?" Lynx casually interrupted.

"Productive. Fine. Revelatory."

"That's cool." Meanwhile, on the other side, Jessica sat elbows over her desk, cracking fingers: 1, 2, 3, 4, cracks. Mild boredom played on her face as she watched David's coat crease. "So how was your day, Lynx?" she mumbled. "Oh, well, you know... made some deliveries, spent some time chillin' with Beth, found security vulnerabilities in what is probably signature encryption for essential interfaces like railway, communications, etc. Thanks for asking!"

"How was your day?" said David.

Jessica straightened the dumb look on her face, then sat upright and pressed the mic. "Not bad," she answered.

"I wonder what that means in your line of work."

"It means I'm still Lynx."

David smirked at the screen. Finally, a mathematical algorithm hit the blue of his holographic interface. Then another one appeared beside it, Lynx's data. Both algorithms slid together and merged perfectly, flashing three times.

"By the deities," he said in disbelief. "You actually found vulnerabilities..."

"Is this algorithm pre-alpha or something?" said Jessica.

"Sorry. Just—I gotta get on this."

"Care to tell me about its application?"

"I think it's in your best interest, and mine, that I don't."

Jessica laughed knowingly, then hit the mic. "Suit yourself."

"Expect payment by tomorrow. I'm glad you came to me with this as fast as you did."

"You know, I don't expect anything."

"Well, Goliath doesn't pay you for your skills as much as your discretion. Although, if you wanted to get paid officially, Spearhead has openings."

Jessica rolled her eyes, contemplating whether or not David was too generous for his own good. She could have found worse, so far as computer software engineers went.

"You know," he continued, "that source code went through several Goliath channels. Nobody could hack it after a month of attempts. You're either very talented or our people very inept... or lazy."

Or worse, Jessica thought. "Maybe I had more to work with. Maybe."

"I must launch a thorough investigation of the program. What operating system do you run?"

"You don't hack and tell," she replied. "Update your hash and you should be fine."

"I'll take it up with the top. Should be dealt with quickly, and thanks again."

David's screen went blank, Jess left alone in her chair to silently reflect.

"Ghost Wire Forums. The screen greeted her with a sinister, smiling ghost, followed by a list of threads; from 'How do I escape Ransomware?' to 'Developing ALI Encryption.' Her clicks carried her to 'Corporate-Implemented Cryptography,' which displayed an alphabetical list of company names along with the names of supposed ciphers.

Under the Goliath page, she scanned the user comments and scrolled until she found one in the form of a question. It belonged to Lynx. Her comment had received several replies.

Lynx: So aside from activities listed on their website, what espionage might Goliath Inc. be involved in?

NatsuXDragneel: Why would there be other activities?

SwagCipher067: My goliath has its own activities. Come over and I'll show you.

OhShitItsSombra: Wanna see my goliath?

Anonymous: I've got a goliath for you.

Eventually, she found a solid answer: Anonymous: Like many bigwigs, Goliath's CEO is probably nothing more than a spokesperson for Azarean interests. Any of their 'activities' could make them party to aerospace innovation, cyberwarfare applications, and even weapons development, none of which are listed on their official website... or anywhere else. Furthermore, Goliath is rumored to be developing telecommunications infrastructure in Antarctica at the behest of Spearhead, a subsidiary recognized for its research into laser and plasma technologies. Some say Spearhead is just the government in disguise. Although, no paper trail exists. SO, beware of black sites.

Jessica replied to the reply. "How the hell do you know all this?"

An answer came immediately. You asked, I answered.

"What is the probability of such a thing as a black site?" she asked herself. "What is the probability of shenanigans in Azarean-regulated business? What is the cost of a perfect world?"

The probability of error in human-run applications, at any moment, is 100%. The probability of error in alien-controlled action: unknown; the probability of alien criminality, different but still unknown. Azareans are secretive and have always been an enigma for their closely guarded secrets.

Another thought: "The chance of David's awareness to foul play: 50/50."

Morning. Jessica decided on a blue vest. Then, with nothing but her board and the contents of her pockets, she made her way to the elevator. The inside revealed a man in a sleek grey coat and glossy black shoes. She almost thought he was Azarean, based on the uni-lens sunglass and silky blonde hair. He obliviously yelled into his phone before and after she entered. Despite the music blasting in her earphones, Jess couldn't ignore the conversation; he talked—ranted more like—all the way down:

"I know I can get another one!

"But, I just really needed those files and don't have the money... Do you know of a way around it? I know I can Giggle it—don't you think I've tried that? Didn't think so... Yea, right now it's useless, as I will soon be... Whatever."

The doors opened to the first-floor lobby. Jessica followed the stranger and haphazardly poked him on the shoulder. He turned around, face longer than before.

"I couldn't help but overhear you need a new Vit!" she told him, then coughed. "I didn't mean to snoop."

The stranger fixed his glasses and, presumably, looked her in the eye. "Misfortune," he replied. "Looks that way. Why so curious?"

"You could save money by wiping everything and starting new. You won't keep your files, but I know a guy who could save your Vit, on the cheap."

"Well..." He pinched his chin. "If the lock timer dials true, then I've got less than an hour before everything is erased. Surely, I cannot undo the virus in so little time."

"My name isn't Shirley, but I'll tell you what, you can show me over a harmless cup of coffee. Unless you got somewhere to be right meow?"

"Generous." The man checked his watch. "No. Nowhere to be as of right now, but soon."

"To Dolcini-Cini's!"

Dolcini-Cini's was a humble café situated three blocks from Apple Mire. Five double-seaters occupied the modular lounge, and five stools flanked the register. Five people sat, and thirteen stood in a queue. Jessica chose a seat and turned to the Azarean wannabe. "Tell you what," she started, "how about you get the drinks and I check out your Vit? It helps my friend to know what he's dealing with before an estimate. Here." She handed him her card. "That's so you don't have to worry. Get whatever you want and I'll take a frap: Mocha. Do it."

"Gratitude..." he replied, glasses untinting at the card, "Jessica." He reached into his matching sling satchel, retrieved the tablet, and left it in her hands. It was yellow, which didn't match his attire in the least and completely startled Jessica's aesthetic sensibilities. She recovered.

"Cool. I. Will. Look. At. This."

"Do as you will. I could get nothing more than the same red screen." The young man took himself and her card to the register line, where a woman in a black apron ran thumbprints.

Unfolding the device, she found the exact screen mentioned. Nothing beyond a red background and instructions: Your personal VIT and its files have been encrypted. Follow these instructions... A pair of black angel wings flapped over the prompt.

"Typical," said Jessica. "And so, solved typically." Out of her pocket, she retrieved a miniature R2-D2 figurine, removed the head, then extracted a chip. "Shut down all the compartments..." She blew beep noises for her own amusement, whimsically drumming the table before entering a key code. The red screen deconstructed into an anime wallpaper with Kanji she could not read.

She sat quietly and awaited her frap, which came no more than five minutes later. Her apartment kinsman trembled with two drinks in hand, going as far as to announce himself.

"Arrived I have. And hope you don't mind, I took liberties and got both of us decaf. I don't assume you have eaten and did not wish to leave you diuretic. Also, I assume you did not want whip crème."

Jessica glared, a gigantic question mark burning through her head. "How fucken dare you," she muttered under her breath.

"Hmm?" He set her card down.

"Nothing! I thought you said there was something wrong with this thing."

"Yes, there is. Just look at the screen."

She showed the wallpaper, a waifu in a robe decorated by app icons. The young man blushed and almost dropped his coffee, eyes alight—so she guessed—and mouth agape. Setting his coffee down, he practically seized the tablet and began tapping the screen with skeletal fingers. "My files!" he said excitedly. "They're here! How is this—W.T.F.!" After testing its functionality, he eventually remembered, "Jessica?"

"My friends call me Jess. So yeah, you can call me Jessica."

"Jeffrey is my name," he said with an awkward smile. "And I thought with certainty that my Vit was undone by ransomware."

"Don't know what that is."

"Aha! Most randoms are ignorant of this common plague, despite all the technology around us. Ransomware is the terrible software installed by cyber hooligans to hijack our computer files, by encrypting them and selling users the decryption key, as I believed was the case here."

Jessica's jaw dropped, and she gasped while holding her head. "Are we all at the mercy of these people who can encrypt stuff?"

"Hackers, all of them. The worst sort of people if you ask me. Using our property for their own amusement. Not this day!" Jeffrey snickered to himself. "Well, miss Jess, I hope it goes without saying that I no longer have a reason to sell my Vit. But, I would very much like to thank you for offering your solution, and for the coffee. I will definitely purchase my own cup next time."

Next time? "Welp, I'm just glad the issue's been resolved," Jessica said. "May the Force be with you."

"And may the fourth be with you."

Jessica glared again, this time as he pompously exited Dolcini-Cini's.

"This tastes terrible," he gasped, so tossed the cup into the recycle bin, but not before dumping out the hot contents. At least, he was environmentally conscientious.

Jessica sat back and took a sip of her decaf.

"Not bad."

Crosswalk after crosswalk under the morning sun, all the way to Ninth Street, Jessica turned into Elysium Lane. Her gaze fell south onto a green wall, five square miles of tree and shrubbery inlaid within the city, and long-winding roads that forked throughout the sylvan maze. It was like the terminus of the world. Her world. Of all places to get lost, there was none better in New Sumer.

As asphalt stream disappeared between two groves, she wondered if she would find more than the usual, the normal, and the canny. The tall elms had that effect on her, peculiar as they were to erect and bend, like the incarnations of Uncertainty. She could have ridden into the grove with her board, but she decided to walk.

Other pedestrians already frolicked in the hills. Joggers passed up and down the slopes, where no engines trespassed. Other strangers played with their pets or picnics. One couple laid out an all-in-one picnic, essentially a floating table with kitchenware—or viscous material hardened into the shape of kitchenware—so as to discard nothing more than a biodegradable surface.

There was a fox playing fetch with its owner. The critter eagerly chased after the same, small, bouncing ball that bounced from thick bark, occasionally pausing for a selfie from the floating phone.

Down the road, Jessica crossed paths with a tall jumpsuit in armor. Metallic padding, and the face concealed by a yellow visor. He was an Azarean, and Jessica saw the pistol magnetized to his hip. She had never seen one fired. Not many people, if any, had.

Up more tarmac and grass, she eventually found grey. Her walk among people, critters, and nature turned into a walk among the dead, a cemetery nestled beside the road and preceding another grove. Over the rows of epitaphs, she stopped between a pair of tombstones:

Stephanie M. Leibniz 2088-2124; Gerald G. Leibniz 2084-2124.

It was never enough that Jessica attended public school. Her early days of rebellion were some of her best, why they carried on so vividly in her memory, including that bizarrely angsty time as an 8-year-old.

"I was there yesterday, and Ms. Camargo, again, complained about all the work she won't do." Jessica's mom, despite looking tired most of the time, had a certain youthfulness to her. The way her shoulders peaked from her black blazer made her broad and imposing, more so whenever those bronze hands clenched her hips. High brows over sharp brown eyes penetrated little Jessica's juvenile spirit. Jessica would inherit those eyelashes, including the blackness of the ponytail her mom tied before every excursion. The scariest thing was learned and not bred, and that was the woman's posture.

"Es por tu bien," Stephanie Leibniz said at the end of every lecture. She checked her watch. "I'll be late for class."

"Mein Liebling, I'll get to the bottom of this bleak issue." Jessica's father entered with kingly admonitions. "You don't have to be late."

"I hope you can!" said Mrs. Leibniz. She grabbed her satchel and stomped through the sliding door connecting the kitchen to the foyer.

Jessica sat at the stool of a reflective counter, cross-armed and stern with puffy cheeks, looking down. Her father leered from the seat across. Gerald Leibniz, to her, stood monumental at six feet. His dirty-blonde hair was almost long enough for a man-bun, his eyes his most calming feature. Their hue of sea blue always carried wisdom waiting to breathe through his word. Every time she looked into them, they seemed older than the rest of him, though she could never explain that feeling.

"What do you do in class, Yess?" he started, pulling up a stool.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed with finality.

"How much of 'nothing' per day?"

"Nothing to the power of pi!"

"Then why all these assignments your teacher keeps sending to your mother?"

Viscerally, Jessica recollected all the sheets and displays that ever fell under her thumb in the magnet classroom. "I can divide, multiply, draw, free-writes. But when I asked Mrs. Camargo about polynomials, she said not everyone can do it yet. I asked her why. She says is 'cause they can't. Argh!"

Jessica's father sighed. "I see where this is going. You know, the reason we put you in a school with other children, Yess, is so that you would grow up with social skills."

"But I'm not a child!" Jessica protested, then made an L sign on her forehead.

He grinned. "In many ways, no. But you are eight and not an adult, meaning, you won't always know what's best until you are blindsided."

"What's that mean?"

"It means you can't always solve for X by yourself."

"Oh... Why not?"

"Because even though time is constant, the factors that come with it are not."

"You are confusing me, dad."

"That just proves my point!" After conjuring two tablets out of nowhere, Mr. Leibniz handed one to Jess. He took his own and began tapping the screen. Jessica's Vit thus beeped and illuminated:

01001000 01101111 01110111 00100000 01100001 01100010 01101111 01110101

01110100 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01101100

01101001 01110011 01110100 01100101 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111

00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010

00100000 01110100 01100101 01100001 01100011 01101000 01100101 01110010

00111111.

So Jessica pulled up the keypad on her tablet and, likewise, tapped with two fingers in tandem, almost as quickly as her father, before hitting send:

01001001 01110100 00100111 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101111 01110010

01110100 01110101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100

00100000 01100010 01101111 01110010 01101001 01101110 01100111

Mr. Leibniz chuckled. But Jessica continued typing something else, a time-consuming message, then hit send:

01000101 01110110 01100101 01110010 01111001 01101111 01101110 01100101

00100000 01100101 01101100 01110011 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011

00100000 01100100 01110101 01101101 01100010 00101110 00100000 01010100

01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101111 01100101 01110011

01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01101101 01100101 01100001 01101110

00100000 01001001 00100000 01101000 01100001 01110110 01100101 00100000

01110100 01101111 00100000 01100010 01100101 00100001

"I don't like that," he said sternly. "Knowing more doesn't make everyone dumb, Yessica. And it does not make you better. That is not the object of knowledge." Jessica began typing with her little fingers again, but her father brushed the tablet aside and made eye contact. "Whether or not you know more than your peers, whether or not they know less, whether they struggle, or you try harder, or their brains don't function like yours, information is there to educate, not discriminate."

Jessica's grimace spoke loudly. Her misty eyes veered from her father. "Is this being blindsided?" she sniveled.

Mr. Leibniz sighed. "It's a start."

"Okay."

"Let's try this: help your friends with their homework in class after you have finished yours. If the teacher reports better class averages, we go to the observatory in the Summer. And... camping."

Jessica's face lit up like a Jack-o-lantern. "One-hundred percent?" she said, afraid to uphold hope.

"One-hundred percent."

Jessica pushed herself off the stool and scrambled to the other side of the counter, arms outspread. As her father lifted her up to hold her properly, she spread a wide smile from ear to ear that colored her rosy cheeks. "I love you, dad."

"I love you, too, Yess."

***

Jessica tore herself from the graves, to peer at the distant green ridge that almost touched the sky. Above the tree line, above the distant rock foundations of the park, a white dome peaked above the horizon. On Tuesdays, the observatory was one of the most peaceful places in the world. She remembered that much. After musing for a while, she turned back to the graves.

"I still get blindsided every now and again, but I found people to help me solve for X. And I think you'd like them..." Somber, she walked out of the cemetery, her feet stopping at the terminus of grass and beginning of tarmac.

Summer clothes and compact smart cars on the road. Laughter and companionship were the constant vignette in New Sumer Park, which hosted its share of university students. Publicly owned smart cars carried pairs, available to any citizen in reserved parking lots. Perfect strangers frequented the open world, shoulder to shoulder. Outside Eden may have been a different story.

For Azareans, Summer clothing did not exist.

One of their cars passed overhead, and Jessica witnessed a pair of them look down their noses at the other humans. Always, no matter the season, aliens wore glasses and long collars. The present pair owned a sporty hovercar: blue sleekness, black windows, two doors, and an engine silent enough to sneak up on someone. From how they lingered, Jessica, if she knew any better, would have thought they were ogling the female college students.

A beep later, she checked her watch. No reason to stick around, "McFly" she uttered, dropped her board on the roadside, and skated beyond the grove of shrouded memories.

#

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# Chapter 3 What You Say, You Fucken Weeb?

Trixie Plaza was an uptown shopping center that rose five stories high, part of a commercial district in New Sumer whose three spacious wings represented three neighboring villages. With five levels of storefront and kiosk, its roof provided a sixth with its domed garden and Special Cone ice cream stand.

Faster than any smart cars en route, Jessica hovered over the sidewalk and into the parking structure, bending her knees up the spiral vehicle ramp. She almost touched the ground then stood tall at the rooftop. It was empty. Perfect. She casually skated to one ledge, revolved, and assumed a racer's stance.

Then, thrust forward, exhilaration took hold and coursed into rapid-fire heartbeats flexing her chest. She dove into a freefall. The board spun until she landed directly before the plaza's main entrance.

Only a few strands of hair fell out of place. After landing, knees bent, head down, a big fat grin curled her lips. Padding herself off, she removed her goggles and casually sauntered toward the stainless glass, but not before fixing her jagged bob, never once noting the passing family: a mom and teenaged girl gawking, and a young boy tugging the mother's blouse.

"Tell her to do it again, mom!"

Jessica entered the first floor, greeted by French maid attire who offered up trays of free dumpling samples.

"Totally!" she said, fiddling a stick. The maids curtsied and stepped aside, leaving her free to roam.

Aisle after bustling aisle brightened within the white plaza. At the center lay a marble fountain, in between all the rising floors, and it sprouted holographic advertisements. Granules of light coalesced into humans and retail products, followed by the word 'Sale.' A new color brought a new ad, blue, violet, then green in spiraling rotation.

"Mission Start," she said, taking a bite of her dumpling. Toward the escalators, she nearly bumped into three families and two couples, which made her relish that it was not Saturday. At the escalator precipice, her attention wandered to a few early Christmas decorations. A terrible trend, especially since it was barely July. Accounting for Azarean culture, there would be many holidays between now and December.

"At least make it Halloween?"

After the third floor's alabaster tiles, the fountain played another ad. This one was red, arrested every shopper's attention, and spiraled into uniformed humans and Azareans side by side.

"Find your calling within the devout upper echelon of interstellar forces. Join the Azarean Expedition Front," said the male voiceover. "Earn a fulfilling education in loyal service to the Union." The propaganda included skits of aliens and humans occupied in several tasks: space station construction, lab research, and rescue. The dramatic last cut came with a diverse legion of uniforms saluting below the backdrop of the regime's banner: a star-spangled spacecraft. "A galaxy awaits!"

The shoppers went about their lives.

A mermaid. Jessica saw another one, like the one on the first floor. Mermaids on café fronts were common to every realm of retail. Star Mermaid Coffee: White letters on a ring around a crowned mermaid. She already had coffee this morning so continued down the aisle until she saw black walls. Hotter Topic read the jagged font overhead. Their shirts were works of art. Unfortunately, every time she had entered, in the past, a group exceeding one person would crowd the store.

"This Summer, behold one man's struggle against a tyrant..."

Jessica got a kick out of movie trailer voiceovers, even when the movies looked terrible. They were so magnetic with their drama.

She sighed away from the rails, right after the rating: "Rated D for 'Don't bring your kids'!" A message popped on her watch. "Hmm." I'll be there soon, it read, so she decided to peruse the rest of the third floor.

Nova Pac clothing, an athlete's favorite retailer for some reason; it preceded the electronic game store, Game Nonstop. Jessica stopped to browse the novelties behind the display window with voiced animation: "Pokemans Ellipsis and Spiral Galaxy versions, now with less water!"

She considered how gaming became a frontier for hackers, bad ones. Cheats and modifications became the least of a developer's worries – Player profiles were consistently hijacked, and many gamers lost access to hard-earned content. The web got more complicated after the industry meshed with cyberspace. Azareans had to outlaw game-making algorithms, lest the industry collapse. It did in places where the Union had no sway.

To this day, she fawned over old stories about video games that required no digital signatures. "Splitscreen was underrated."

Her vision suddenly went black. She felt a pair of cool hands on her eyes, a silent presence that had arrived without her notice. "I know it's you," she said.

"' You' who?" replied the feminine voice. Jessica brought the hands down and turned around. She saw a face whose shadow danced between light and tan, with loving brown eyes and brunette tendrils. The girl was about her age, in a sleek, black leather hoodie over a yellow blouse. Underneath, a pair of tight jeans held firm to her legs. She spread a wide and white smile of recognition, glossy lips stretching ear to ear. "I knew I'd find your nerd ass here!"

"Homegirl..."

During a bitter-sweet flashback, Jessica remembered that teenage angst was nature's way of encouraging independence. Counter-intuitively, there were entire institutions dedicated to penning up adolescence.

"Dysfunction is not inherent to the human condition," she muttered. "It's nature's recoil, I'd say, against the attempt to stifle growth."

"What you say, you fucken Weeb?"

The brunt of a sneaker slammed her into several plastic storage bins. Then and there, the smell of the gym changing room, the heated sourness of post-practice hockey, sunk in. The sprinklers had yet to trigger their fragrance filters, so the scent amplified her bitterness. Looking up, she found the angry scowl of a student in the crimson skirt and white blouse of Ashenvale Academy.

"Mr. Johnson knew my essay was forged!" the bully exclaimed, running pink nails across red-dyed hair. "The point, as I stressed, was to make it sound like my writing!"

"But I thought you wanted a passing grade," Jessica sassed. Her face felt the brunt of a sneaker, again.

"I don't see any teachers or security," said the lookout. Like with all walking clichés, there was a lackey who stood as a lookout to the locker room, casual to the cruelty of yet another Queen Bee. Up until Freshman year, Jessica had thought them extinct.

With the pain in her chin and neck, she struggled to rise but managed to sit upright, and felt the familiar hardness of a hockey stick beneath her fingers.

"And another thing," Queen Bee continued. "Micah said you were talking to Jeremy in the computer lab. Why?"

"Because he asked for help?"

"Be real with me, bitch." She grabbed Jessica's collar. "You know I like him, right? You heard about it, and the next day you just happened to meet up with him in the lab?"

"Nothing's more romantic than computer literacy, Avery," Jessica whispered sarcastically. "I can't control my obsession or the need to make you jealous. My life revolves around it, especially now."

With a small shove, the girl let Jessica fall before crouching over her space. "I forgot. Is this turning you on?"

"You realize there are cameras in this room?"

"Because I give two shits? My dad knows the Principal, cyberwhore, and he has Azarean connections. No one cares about the rambling of some reject. It's annoying. Your parents probably faked their deaths to get away."

Numb to the pain, Jessica carefully rose right before Avery's grin. Faster than her thoughts, her arm swung the hockey shaft and smashed that grin sideways. The blow cracked the stick, and Avery lay on the floor, stiff.

"Shit!" cried the other girl. She looked from Avery to Jessica, horrified, then quickly ran off.

Jessica stared at the body, nails digging into her palms. She had to do something before her life came crashing down again. She had to run. The camera footage had to go.

She sprinted out of the campus. Outside, the clouds seemed particularly grey above the walled garden. After-school activity was a mistake. The blood in her veins churned, her skin crawled, and it channeled from sweltering resentment into a migraine.

Top-tier alumni from every field could secure entry into the most prestigious academies, where they could share halls with Azareans. Hence, the moment she demonstrated a high aptitude in academics, followed by an affinity for hockey, Jess made enemies; the moment she excelled in school, she made enemies; the very moment she cared, she made enemies, which is why she hated Gerald Leibniz. Academia was a curse, social life a curse.

At the border of Ashenvale, she cleared the private shuttle. Her patience for other teens had launched into the cosmos. Instead, she made sprints across the locale, tiring herself for nothing more than an alternative, a way out. A racing heart carried her feet to the nearest tram station. Its distance from the school and the affluent community she loathed helped her breathe easy. The station had no recognizable faces. It blessed her with solitude.

Public transportation. There was always something clandestine about riding the rails home. Lights on the door: blue at every stop, red on the move. Occasionally, a bot would enter and clean the old gum between the seats. If the tram was full, the bot would poke its head inside then exit. It could never scrub the saturation of stories in one place, especially on a weekday.

Daily souls filled the seats, faces that told different narratives and goals. Sometimes, a single car was a sampling of the world, a range of faces old and new; this job and that job, headed to and from work, to friends or loved ones—some rendezvous of ends or means.

Legs together, hands folded over her skirt, black hair running below the pocket of her white shirt, Jessica kept her head down and to herself. Everyone was their own problem, their concerns solely their own, and today would be no different.

Left foot forward, past the sliding door, she stepped hit the sidewalk of grime and watched the tram's inner light disappear between concrete shadows, headed west as the sun gave way to evening. No more large buildings but the neighborhood, park, and people. There was something different about these houses, though, something old. Maybe she'd stumbled upon one of those retro villages, designed to look like a twentieth-century suburb. She quickly realized that she didn't care.

Along dirty curbs and tagged surfaces, she never bothered to question the lack of bots. Holding her elbows, oblivious to the world, she tarried near shades and the fallen oak leaves of a park she did not recognize.

"Hey!" a random voice called.

She ignored it.

"Hey!"

It was probably not calling her.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!"

She stopped, staring at her knee-high socks.

"Hey, you!" the voice persisted.

Turning, Jessica's sanguinely landed on short shorts. Irreversibly memorable short jean shorts "Hot Pants," as the hipsters would say. Tan legs followed a slender torso in a tank top that squeezed the obvious endowments underneath. A black pedicure adorned the hands on a slim waist, and brown hair styled as a mullet jagged over dark eyes that scowled from a lioness expression. It was some random stranger who looked like she could beat up the skinny guy next to her.

The skinny guy's tank top was freakishly white, but he had baggy black pants. Stalky, his shaved head hunched from his neck in a lazy poise, dark blue eyes skimming the ground, somewhere else.

"Do you know where you are?" growled the fierce girl.

"No," Jessica mumbled.

"Ha! You are in the west side. Obviously, you're not from around here or you'd know the crew'd eat you up in the time it took to sneak a baggie up your ass."

"Oh..."

"Maybe we should just take your things," she threatened, shouldering the guy next to her. "Right, babe?"

"Oh, definitely," he said, eyeing his phone.

Grinning like a pleased predator, something was missing in the eyes. The guy beside her, boyfriend presumably, he was absent. No matter. The girl hadn't finished talking when Jessica unstrapped her satchel and dropped it. Farther down the sidewalk, she showed her back to the couple and ignored their gawking.

"Hold on! You're giving it up, just like that?"

"Your plan didn't work, babe," the boyfriend sighed.

"Thank you, pendejo! I wouldn't have known."

When she eventually returned beside the solemn schoolgirl, she was alone, calling, "Hey!"

Over her shoulder, Jessica watched indifferently. Why hadn't she walked off with her belongings?

"What is your deal, huh?" the girl whined. "Who wanders and just lets their stuff go? What's the matter with you?"

"Why are you following me?"

"Tell me what your deal is!"

"Why?"

"Cuz it's freaken weird, that's why!"

"What's it matter?"

The stranger ran ahead and stood staunchly in Jessica's path. Determination created creases on her face. "You can't just walk all mopy other people's neighborhoods, drop your stuff, and act like nothing's wrong!"

A minute passed without a word between either of them. When it became clear the stranger wouldn't leave, Jessica's eyes slanted over the ground.

"You ever been blindsided?"

"Huh? What's that? Are you on something?"

Jessica started quivering before the strength in her legs departed. She fell on the park sidewalk, bathing in a bubble of sobs. Her hands fell over her face in a natural effort to quell the tears, but when they wouldn't stop, she scrunched between her knees. After hearing a velcro scrub, she suddenly remembered her satchel.

"Tablet, crap, Calculus book. Ew. Crap. Star Wars fan, huh?" The stranger grabbed Jessica's hand and touched her thumb to the e-card. "Jessica? This says you're not from around here."

Jessica broke from sobs to a glare.

"Just a freshman? I got you by a year." After sifting through more of Jessica's personal items, the stranger found a small monitor. Juggling with the buttons, she triggered a tripod and screen. She peered from the screen to Jessica. They made sober eye contact. "You okay with me taking this?" The tablet pictured an eight-year-old between both parents, all three of them smiling.

Jessica swiped the device, the strange girl releasing it without a fuss, and froze. She scrolled through pictures in silence, and eventually felt another shoulder.

"So, you are holding onto something; aren't you?"

After a few more pictures, Jessica turned and acknowledged the balmy smirk and unusual hairstyle. At that moment, the hairstyle was kind of cool.

"Take your junk." The stranger delivered the satchel with its contents. "And I'll take you home," helping Jessica rise.

Sill, Jessica scowled. "Why?"

"Because it's not a good idea to travel so far on your own."

"You misunderstand. Why would you care to help me? Do all this?"

"What's it matter?"

"It needs to add up."

"Pfft. No, it doesn't!"

Jessica wiped the last tear.

The strange girl sighed. "Miro lo que haces. A caballo dado, no le busques el colmillo."

"Es por mi bien?"

"Andale, chica!" She stole a quick glance and handed back the e-card. "Here, Jessica Leebzen."

"What's your name?"

"Valerie."

Valerie Bolivar.

"I knew I'd find your nerd ass here!"

"Hey, Homegirl." Jessica met Valerie with a rough embrace, squeezing leather before they casually strolled outside the game shop.

"How long have you been here?"

"Thirteen minutes and five seconds."

"Hehe. And how many steps have you taken since getting here, weirdo?"

Jessica glanced left then right. "Nobody cares."

"Something relevant. What have you been up to?" Both women started down the aisle, oblivious to every set of eyes and ads against the white polish.

"Besides delivering?"

"You still working at that Tacquera?" Like Jessica, Valerie uttered foreign and loan words with their original accent, Spanish words, at least.

"Tacquizza," Jessica corrected.

"Anything new?"

Her head bobbed to thoughts of her second life: David, Goliath, the cracked algorithm, then the info she received from Ghost Wire. "I did run into a weird guy before coming here," she said.

"Like you weird or get-away-from-me weird?"

"Don't know. He lives in my complex, and I ended up buying his coffee."

"Then you'd better find out what kind of weird."

"Well, I surmised that he's one of those Neo-zareans. You know, that clique that likes white and talk like they're in a Shakespeare play."

Valerie had a glossy smile. "So, he's get-away-from-me weird."

"Eh, labels only work for Scientific Law and the Order of Operations."

"Here's your order of operating, girl: scan 'em, bag 'em, dump 'em, then you've got the fourth operation: rinse and repeat... or is that five?"

Jessica's cheeks inflated. "I don't wanna know what kinda nasty shit you do on a Friday night."

"You know what it means!"

"Nope."

"I'll spell it out for you..."

Jessica covered her ears. "Shuffle, Babel!" A violin loop massaged her eardrums. "Lalalalala!" she recited, as Valerie lurched to grab her wireless earbuds.

"Get them to... and make the... then work it like... see how... on your knees..."

"Ich höre deine Teufelsrede nicht!" She removed her hands from her ears and caught Valerie staring at the red advertisement. It was the AEF ad from earlier. When the red light faded, Valerie turned around with a sober gaze and mouthed something.

Jessica removed an earbud. "What?"

"I said, what do you think they do once they're in space?"

"Who?"

"The humans who get recruited by those Azarean pieces—whatever, the Regime."

Jessica shrugged. "Explore? Build space stations, like on Saturn? I know some of them to go to the Mars colony." She recalled her own suspicions, some of which she confirmed at the tail end of high school. Of course, she wasn't going to tell her friend that a trillion-credit corporation puppeteered the government.

"But they don't all stay within our solar system," Valerie continued.

"And you know this how?"

"Meh, that's just how I imagine it. 'A galaxy awaits.' Nova cluster ain't exactly a galaxy."

"Why so curious all of a sudden?"

"I'm a curious cat, okay? Whatcha listening to?" Valerie swiped the bud from Jessica and listened:

They both listened to The Verve's Bitter Sweet Symphony.

"Not bad," said Valerie.

Jessica's eye cocked. "Sorry, it's not Androgynous Vision."

"Don't even try and compare your old man shit to them!"

Valerie stomped towards the nearby Hotter Topic. On the other side of the window stood a mannequin. Valerie directed Jessica's attention to the modeled shirt. Four feminine figures in leather, bound in black and white.

"They certainly have a look that works," Jessica drawled.

"I know, right?" Valerie pointed to the far left, at a thin blonde with hair like knives, wearing a biker hat and sporting collared vest. "Jamie looks tough but is actually a sweetheart."

"Sure, he looks a bit intimidating."

"How do you know it's a he?"

"I just—"

"What do you think about Carol?" Valerie pointed to the next member, a short brunette in a hoodie, stream-like hair flowing beneath taped eyes

"She's got a shy cuteness to her."

"How do you know it's a she?"

Jessica glared. "Principal of association. Shut up!"

Valerie laughed and shrugged. "No one knows!"

"Well, alright then!" She sauntered off.

"Where you going?"

"New Ellipsiderme Skin Crème gets rid of rashes and all transmitted surface infections. Side-effects include mild melting..." Another advertisement accompanied Jessica and Valerie's down the spiral escalators.

"So, what have you been up to?" Jessica resumed.

"I've actually decided to do social work while I work on my... degree."

"Still a Nursing major?"

"Si. Although, I haven't worked like this and done school at the same time, so we'll see how it goes."

"That's cool. I think it's manageable."

"A bitch though, you know?"

"I do know."

Valerie poked her friend's arms. "You going to school now, Jessie?"

"I keep myself busy, Homegirl."

"Uhuh..."

"Ttstststs." A primal noise disabled their conversation on the first floor, as they turned their heads and noticed a pair of catcallers: slick jackets, torn jeans, and sunglasses to complement strange, velvet pompadours.

Valerie glared. "You think that's supposed to get you laid or somethin'?"

"It's Azarean for 'Damn girl, let me take you out'," he said sardonically.

"It's actually not," said Jessica.

"Well, it should be," cooed the second, "because I could experiment with those curves from dusk till dawn."

Jess was paralyzed by the sudden injection of cringe, so Valerie stepped forward.

"I heard men were caught up in Azarean experiments, but I didn't know they were making fuckboys! Tell your moms I'll see them again soon!"

"Whatever, brah." The two boys walked away, trying to be casual, one tripping over nothing.

Valerie turned around. "What?"

"Right in the balls," Jess giggled.

"'Vas con lo que sirve'. My mom taught me that."

"She must've been pretty cool."

"Yea—"

After two rings, Jessica checked her watch. "She wants to meet at Tokyo Town."

"I see that," said Valerie, checking her phone. "Guess that means we're having sushi."

"I'm okay with that."

"Of course, you are!"

#

# 

# Chapter 4 Yin-Yang Girl

Exiting from the first-floor's M.C. Remy fashion boutique, which rested opposite a virtual reality boutique, Valerie and Jessica heard a loud thud. Looking back, they caught a man in a black leotard lying beside a three-sixty treadmill.

Due east on the sidewalk, past Trixie, the sun peaked. A series of intersections colored their view of the outer city. Chavez and Seventh: Fruit and art vendors, paintings and meticulously crafted fruit cups carried bananas, apples, and oranges.

Holly and Seventh: Rap battles between chefs. A man in a beret relayed lyrical rhymes as he grilled the perfect burger in record time, against a man sporting a Korean flag bandana, patient for the moment he would drop his tortillas and chicken on the portable grill top.

"I'm like Jack in the crack with my lyrical smack, pushin' the limits of my craft, stackin' patties and schoolin' baddies..."

Every lyric came with an overexcited hypeman in the background. "AAAAAWWWWW SHIEEEEEEEEEET!" Entire villages stood in attendance, huddling around talented rapper-chefs who fed lines while dropping rhymes.

"I can never do that," said Valerie as they reached signs for Akira and 7th.

"I would look like an idiot," Jess replied. "Shannon, on the other hand..."

"Okay, Shannon doesn't count. She's a fuggen art smith, mmkay? If Botticelli and Walt Whitman had a love child, and Confucius and Buddha had a love child, and their children had a love child, and then Ezra Pound and Frederick Douglas had a love child, and Virginia Woolf and Will Smith had a love child, and their children had a love child, and both descendants of every random name I've pulled out of my ass had a love child, you'd get Shannon."

Jess blinked slowly. "That's a very elaborate and surprisingly informed list of people. You don't think you're exaggerating, even a little bit?"

"It's the truth!"

New Sumer's Tokyo Town fell on the fringe of future sprawl, where superstructure surrendered to old-fashioned brick. It began where 7th Street met Akira, then ran a few blocks of flea markets, mini-markets, and restaurants until Akiba: a neon lane filled with storefront after storefront of manga, anime, arcade, and hobby stores. Over brick, bright signs and every color of the rainbow lined the shelves and exterior windows.

Beep. Beep. The girls checked their messengers. "Directions to a place called Yaoi Yuri Joy Joy," said Jess. "Ever been there?"

"Nope, but it sounds hilarious. Vamonos."

Then they saw red lamps hooked on the overhead canopy of curvaceous rooftops. They were oriental and antiquated, the kind of adornments typically found nowhere but their place of origin. Even unlit, their distinct red illuminated, like spitfire rails, over Tokyo Town.

"Scary, isn't it?" remarked Valerie. "You have a home, you call it yours, somebody shows you a different part of it—all of a sudden, it's like you never really knew it."

Jessica had to steer from her trance. "Hmm?"

"You're distracted af."

"What? I haven't been here, either! Well, maybe one time. It was just in passing, but I've been all over the city. Most of it doesn't look this retro, is all."

They immersed themselves in a lack of chaos, trodding down the color palette of shoppers: parents, children, singles, and so forth—every ethnicity retrieving their piece of Japanese art, entertainment, or Ramen. Polychromatic coats, kimonos, suits, and shorts filled every corner as Jessica and Valerie crossed the narrow tarmac. Eventually, they found their destination. Complete awkwardness, and morbid confusion, curved their lips as they beheld the sign and window displays. Red Kanji followed the big yellow lettersYaoi Yuri Joy Joy.

Jessica shuttered. "I would like to understand. I need to understand."

"She's just screwing with us, right?" Valerie tensed up. "Right?"

"Unless she's actually into that sort—no..."

They took their time processing the posters underneath the entrance sign. From behind the neon letters on the windows, the posters illustrated at least one form of homoerotic relations between animated characters in immodest clothing.

"What the hell does 'Yaoi Yuri Joy Joy' mean?" snapped Valerie.

"Welp, judging from the exchange of fluids, like this one where they're—"

"That was rhetorical, pendeja!"

"I knew that," said Jessica, half-joking.

"You know what it means, don't you?"

"No..."

Both girls suddenly jerked forward, and a pair of arms slouched around their necks. "Gotcha, muthafuckas!" The arms belonged to a young woman, a forward combed bob under a spiral-patterned hat, white WWJD emblazoned above its bill. Her small T-shirt bore a blonde woman's silhouette against a white sun. And her black backpack, which added to the weight of her elbows, sported a Yin-Yang emblem.

Marble on the edge of black steps led up a single, sliding glass door. Overhead, transparent letters ignited into Nocturnal Maryment. Blacklight informed the blueness of the quaint cafe, leading down the zig-zag lounge of round tables and booths. Small sets of stairs split each nook, connected to a bar where one bartender with luminescent blue hair slid drinks along the countertop. Dressed in black, skin-tight attire, the patrons distinguished him as "Ned."

At the end of the lounge, every white light converged upon a small stage where poets aired serenity into a microphone:

If I walked into the sea, the great Wind,

Does it carry me solemnly, slowly?

Would it slowly and carefully hold me?

And uplift my corporeal soul of Sin

Saying 'we need not the sea

While we sync so seamlessly'

After, the Sun would depart,

Leaving the sky dark, stark

And claiming my gaze, the Moon

To say in Silence, 'Do come soon.

I am here, the sun is where.

Where art thou, young Soul?'

Striding neither here nor there,

Where the Wind does not carry me

Fingers snapped in every corner as the young woman let her head low, even after she parted from spotlight and mic. All the while, Jessica sat at the rear of the lounge, alone, to mumble and hear within her own thought bubble. "ToTool, work this magic and show me the binary. Tata, tatata, tatata, ta..."

"Hey, what's up?"

"Private, variation, mobile, media..."

"You, with the computer!"

Jess eventually lifted her gaze to the righteous figure in front of her table. Black shoes, dress pants, and a buttoned-down shirt; they complimented and contrasted the curly streaks, finalized by the dark skin behind thick-rimmed glasses. Sophistication and style in a feminine package. What did this woman want with her?

"Not to sound rude or anything, but what are you doing here?" the woman said with vocal authority.

Jessica blurted anxiety. "I'm just, uh... I'm fixing a friend's ATab."

"Here?"

She glanced around, searching. "It wasn't my idea."

In the kindest, friendliest way possible, the girl returned. "You know where you are? You're in a mellow joint with phenomenal artists, chill people. Not an office. Why don't chu just take a moment to enjoy the lyrics of the cats on stage?"

"I—" She shrugged. "I get really absorbed in code sometimes. My head works in weird ways, and I can't really control it. I hope I'm not offending anyone."

"I mean, listen, you've got poetry here. Good poetry. And good people. To me, that sounds like good a reason to take a break from... codes."

A tall young man in a white jacket suddenly stepped close, a glass in each hand. His jacket's front pocket shared a pair of jays stitched over a tapering blue shield, the symbol of a local alma mater. First, he bowed his pale forehead and bleached hair at Jessica.

"I've got youuu a Syringer," he said haughtily. Jessica fell back in her chair, surprised. The young man quickly scowled at the girl next to them. "And how might I help you, madame?"

His apprehensive tone was not lost on her. "I was just saying what's up to..."

"Jessica."

"Shannon."

"Well, Shannon, if it's all right with you," rejoined the student, " I and my special friend could make do with some privacy. No feelings intended."

"Yeah-no, just givin' the Nocturnal hello, you know? Don't mind me!" Eyes of reluctance, the young woman, Shannon, returned to the lounge.

Jessica stared right back, eyes shooting an apology before acknowledging the older student. "I'm underage," she muttered.

He beamed a white grin in the black light. "Oh, that's just a refresher. There's no alcoholic content."

Hoping to relax, Jessica grabbed the glass. It's just juice, she thought. What do I have to worry about? She gulped down the blue substance, enamored by the taste. Eventually, her companion took a sip of his own.

"I jailbroke your ATab!" she started, smiling.

"What?" he gulped. "I only asked you to remove viruses."

"That was easy! I got bored, so I ended up unlocking your bootloader."

"Double U, tee, eff."

"Yup, you can now download apps designed with Vits in mind!" A tinge of pride hung from Jessica's every word, but she probed the young student's face for some hint until he grinned.

"You. Are. Something else!"

"I am. Odd is what I am," she snickered. "But odd is such an odd term, don't you think? Because no matter where you count in the decimal system, you can always find odds in the company of evens. Even zero is, technically speaking, even; yet it's also, technically speaking, nothing. But put an odd next to this even and, suddenly, you have something. Zero, one, one-zero, one-one, one-zero-zero." Jessica paused, looked up at her companion, and grimaced at his furrowed brow. "Just rambling."

She grabbed her glass and drank the rest, while the young student watching her closely.

Shannon occasionally carried her eyes from the poets to the couple. At least, she assumed they were a couple. A close reading of the scene said their relationship was new. Jess against the backrest, and the oblivious look in her eye, said plenty. Her black sleeves, baggy pants, and lack of makeup said more. A sororal melancholy crept closer every time she peered in their direction, which she feared might validate her suspicions after how that guy greeted her.

"I would like to invite, to the stage, Shannon Wolf, AKA Xiao Long."

No matter. After hearing her name, Shannon stood up and confidently walked across the lounge, up to the stage. There, in the bright spotlight, she cupped the instrument of lyrics in her hand.

"Good night, Nocturnal," she said, pitch amplified throughout the lounge. "Shout-outs to Mary for having us another night."

Everyone faced the woman at the bar, an eye-catching mistress in an elegant black gown. She had long midnight hair, pale skin, and a metal cigar between her fingers. She casually waved as the people clapped, bowing her head with a serene, red smile.

When Jessica heard the clapping, she blinked at the stage and saw Shannon in the dim spotlight. The girl rolled up each sleeve and revealed black and white koi fish tattoos. With thick-rimmed glasses, hair to the side and one eye open, she magnified. More importantly, she was confident, without the slightest hesitation in before a crowd.

Jess envied her.

Forlorn Forest old

Florentian wanderer

'Halfway' in his life

...

Diving underneath

Fallen for and by dear friend

Calling Rome's Writer

...

Because Death is naught

Not a barrier to our love

But a sign solemn

Silence.

Finger snaps. Shannon bowed then stepped away from the spotlight, a departure accompanied by the snapping until she stopped at the bar.

"That was awesome," said Jessica. Only the student could hear her.

"I suppose," he replied.

Something about the poem spilled into her stomach and stirred emotions she preferred unmoved. Her cheek felt the cold surface of the table, as well as numbing depression. And tired. She felt awfully tired and dizzy, fighting the terrible urge to sleep.

"I wanna be a cool cat like her," she mumbled.

"Of course, you do."

"What's going on?"

Slowly, it all faded to black.

It was a strange sensation, moving without moving, so Jessica deliriously thought up an escape. "Beam me up, Scotty!" she grumbled.

"We're going to get you home." The voice belonged to her friend. At least, she thought he was her friend. Her inebriated mind tried to formulate questions but was barely capable. Everything was dark if not hazy, and the movement coddled her sickness. Fear of stumbling suddenly crashed her imagination.

"Hey!" exclaimed a poetic and angry voice

Shannon watched the head turn and peer over Jessica's elbow. Without a doubt, it was the same student from the club, Jessica's asshole companion.

"It's the poet!" he said condescendingly. "Nice job up there."

She scowled at Jessica and the stiff arm over his neck. The empty side alleys of Nocturnal Maryment offered plenty of room to move, as well as its share of obscurity. It was too shady for Shannon's liking, but it was here the quiet, nightly chill could carry every word without interruption. "I know what you did!" she said.

"What are you talking about?"

"Dumb's not a good look!"

"Hmph." The tall student gently unhinged Jessica and set her down against the alley wall. A wolf's grin sharpened his cheekbones as he set one step forward. "Listen," he started, "I do not know your issue or what it is you're accusing me of,"—another foot forward—"but just look at her." He motioned to pale Jessica asleep, black hair draped like a doll. "So, I just need to take her home, if that's okay with you."

"Why don't you wake her up then?" interrogated Shannon. "Make life easier."

"You should keep your voice down. She obviously needs her sleep, overachiever that she is."

"You won't mind if I check, just to make sure. I prefer to keep Nocturnal's reputation intact." Shannon advanced and reached over, but the stranger caught her by the wrist.

"I do mind," he said.

"You should let go of me."

He shoved her back. "And you should worry about yourself."

"Or what?"

Brow cocked, lip bit, the student pressed his hand on Shannon's chest. She stumbled back a few steps, keeping her balance and darting a defiant scowl. He advanced again.

Personal space invaded, Shannon quickly jolted along the jerk's arm, stepping behind his foot, grabbing his bleach mane and pulling until he squealed like a Chinchilla. Then, she punched his throat.

The student hit the ground, where he choked and throttled his jacket collar. Shannon stretched her neck in the meantime, leering in disgust.

Eventually, he clumsily scrounged to his feet. "I'm gonna knock you silly," he cackled with a fist, but he felt the sneaker sole smack his cheek so that he once again hit the ground.

She had spun three-sixty degrees to round-house kick him in the face, certain the blow would knock him unconscious, but then he moaned bitterly. She glared, baffled by his stupid resolve. "Damn, muthafucka, you're stubborn!"

Standing again, his expression was a patch of highlights frazzled over forehead creases.

"Third time's the charm," Shannon mocked, then took a wide stance and instigated him forward with a flap of the hand.

He charged without warning.

Too fast, however, Shannon kicked his leg into the pavement. After the stubborn boy fell, she loomed over him. "Get up!"

Panicked, he looked over to his left leg. It was limp

"You got another leg, right?" said Shannon. "Let's do something about that."

Fraught, the student hastily crawled away on the asphalt. He fled as fast as he could whimper, which was rather slow, but his scared look was hard to pursue. And with the deviant out of her way, Shannon was free to investigate the alley.

She found Jessica's goofy expression safely nestled against the wall, at which point she heard unconscious rambling. "'It's another Death Star!' Someone would notice, J.J."

Shannon's excitement faded away, replaced by confusion and relief. "Man," she sighed. "You got roofied, bitch!"

"Hwt4-afo4-qe3f-rgyi. A digest utilizing any finite sequences is crackable."

"Let's get you the hell out of here before you start talking about whatever the hell you're talking about."

Shannon crouched to check the girl's pockets and found nothing but an e-card and a miniature R2-D2. "Star Wars, huh?" She touched Jessica's finger to the card and scanned the info. "You ain't exactly close by. Fortunately for you,"—she wrapped Jessica's arm around her neck—"Ned's a cool guy. He'll give you a ride home if it's me asking."

They ambled out of the dark and toward the marble steps of Nocturnal Maryment. All the while, Jessica irked Shannon with her moaning random numbers and jargon until she mumbled something else.

"Diving underneath / Fallen for and by dear friend / Calling Rome's Writer..."

"Well, damn," Shannon remarked. "You can be on the mic next time."

"Shannon 'Xiao Long' Wolf. I wanna be a cool cat, too."

"Girl, you already are."

***

Shannon 'Xiao Long' Wolf.

"Gotcha, muthafuckas!"

Shannon fell off her friends so they could watch her laugh.

"Ay," started Valerie, pointing at Yaoi Yuri Joy Joy. "Are you serious right now?"

"Naw. I just wanted to fuck with you! We're going somewhere else."

"That's cool," said Jess. "I'm sure it won't take long to get these images out of my head."

"Just keep reciting pi like you normally do." A mob of Tokyo Town denizens suddenly passed through, and Shannon stared down the road. "So, what? You girls down for sushi?"

"I don't know," said Valerie.

Jessica stared her down. "Say yes, dammit."

"Alright, dang! Yes!"

"Cool," said Shannon. "Let's get it."

As Shannon then Valerie dissolved into the crowd, Jessica paused and mumbled, "3.141592653..."

Shannon led the way as all three ladies casually waded through the bodies. Her pace allowed them to bask in the Tokyo Town air, whose fragrant and musty odor was like an artificial blossom. Everything new seemed to impress and grab her gaze, which, upon looking back, carried a sisterly warmth.

"Tell me what you guys been up to," she began excitedly.

Valerie relayed nothing she didn't already tell Jessica. Jessica, on the other hand, had an inner debate about where to start but eventually let loose and stopped after the subject of her job.

"So..." Shannon rejoined. "How's Miss Sanders?"

"She's cool," said Jess. "Pretty much the way you remember."

"I forgot to ask about hip grandma," said Valerie.

"Yep, I saw her yesterday. Although, she seemed slightly different in a way, a little more docile than normal."

Shannon stopped. "How old is she now?"

"Sixty-seven."

"My grandma got the same with age. It just happens." Shannon resumed their course through Seventh Street. "But, you see her every day, so you can tell better than we can. I'm always down to pay her a visit, next time."

"Noted. Saved. Awesome!" Jessica smiled. In truth, the very thought of Beth's mortality was depressing. The weight of it made her slouch.

"And what have you been up to, Shannon?" Valerie asked.

"Psh! I can't stay put, to start! Playing the aid for professors at NSA, it's actually pretty chill. But then I keep returning to my cousin's club whenever he's understaffed. He pays, so it's practically a side job. Which is why I'll tell you: you wanna do social work and go to school, go for it! Only you know your limits. Even now, I'm finding gigs as a ghostwriter. So long as my stylus is working, I'm happy with it."

Valerie gasped. "Dang! I gotta get my shit together."

"Psh! Relax, girl! It's not like you're delivering pizza and tacos all day." Shannon winked at Jess.

"Hey!" she stammered. "It is a public service. Everyone likes tacos and pizza, at least if you're human. I meet all kinds of people and learn new things every damn day. It's a way to get out of my head."

"Never gonna understand why you didn't just take that scholarship, any of them."

"Not about that life, brah."

Valerie glowered. "You really just say that?"

Shannon laughed. "You still listenin' to Androgynous Vision?"

"Is Jessica a nerd?"

"Is 'yes' not in your vocabulary?" said Jess.

"Only when you offer to spot a girl!" Valerie reached over to squeeze Jessica's cheeks, forcing her to brush her arm aside.

"Don't make me go back there!" Shannon warned.

"You know you're welcome to a piece!"

"I'll take the whole thing."

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# Chapter 5 Life is Like an Algorithm

Red bricks, yellow orbs, a curved roof, and the overhead restaurant name: Jedediah Sushi. Plus its Hiragana equivalent. Of the many food joints in Tokyo Town, Jessica, Shannon, and Valerie arrived by red brick and old-fashioned doors that, when opened, rang a bell.

"Irasshaimase!"

Red lanterns burned yellow amidst sparse rows of upholstery and oak. Two counters, one on either side of the room, hosted chefs who sliced and diced imitation tuna. They were just as meticulous with the Nigiri.

"Order!"

Topped at last with thinly sliced lemon, the dishes waited for the waitresses in French maid attire and eventually landed right on Jessica's table.

"What do you call them, again?" said Shannon, sitting directly across.

"Black Hats," said Jessica, clapping her chopsticks.

"What's so special about 'em?"

Jessica shoved a roll in her mouth and chewed while Shannon waited for an answer, then chewed, chewed, and chewed some more. Valerie leaned sideways, in front of Shannon, likewise anticipating a response. Shannon gently shoved Valerie's head out of the way. "I mean, they're hackers, right?" she continued.

Jessica coughed and took a sip of water. "The definition of hacker varies, you know? It has this elastic meaning, but I pay no attention to the connotations of the plebs. You could be a hacker; I could be a hacker; it doesn't mean we've done anything wrong – It's not a bad thing." She stood up and slammed fists on the table exaggeratedly "But there ain't no good deed that's not under the nutty hands of 'crackers'."

"What do crackers do?" said Valerie. "Besides be white, salty, and crunchy."

Jessica set her chopsticks down and cracked a knuckle. "Okay, so, you ever had a computer virus?"

"Maybe."

"No," answered Shannon. "At least, not in a long time. I always got the anti-virus running."

"That can work," replied Jess, making a jive. "But, see, software viruses originate from jerks, a.k.a. Black Hats. Computer savvy criminals are shit weasels behind everyday software issues. There are so many ways and so many reasons why someone could—may want to infiltrate your system. And it's not just brute force, like trying to decrypt your files. Too much work. Clever fuckers can always find ways around your security and get to your PHI. One way is social engineering, which is basically the stuff we see every day, like advertising pop-ups. Stay away from those."

"You mean to tell me," started Valerie, "that I should not claim my millions of dollars for being the billionth visitor to a site? A bunch of hot girls aren't waiting for my dick around the corner?"

Jessica shrugged. "They aren't always that obvious, Homegirl, especially if you're downloading Hentai all the time."

"Say you do get a virus," Shannon said sincerely, "do you know how to get rid of it?"

"That depends." She smirked.

"On what?"

"Are you asking me personally?"

"Why, it may be that I am, Miss Leibniz."

"Ooh, ah, let's see. I need a way to explain it without making it sound boring."

Valerie giggled. "You can do that?"

"Would you like me to beatbox?" said Shannon.

"Can you?" said Jess.

Shannon placed a tuna roll in her mouth and garbled, "Nope."

"Welp. When it comes to implementation, there aren't too many methods. Understanding a virus's identity, so to speak, allows decryption or circumvention. Never easy. Viruses replicate their source codes, and the encryption changes per creator, even the language itself. Someone always loses before a crack is patched. After sifting through malware, you can develop a tool to defend against future infections. But, when a new one shows up, the process starts all over again..."

Shannon had a full mouth. "So, when you're the target of a new virus, you're fucked?"

"You have to be really lucky... or really stupid."

"Explain."

"Well, if you're just some guy, no one's going to develop a quantum algorithm to break through your encryption. But, and this is a really big butt, if some random dude approaches, and you give them access to your hardware, then they don't need encryption. They just go right in and upload the virus. Trojan Horse, anybody?"

"And for you to let them use your hardware, they have to disguise their intentions, then?"

"So," Valerie rejoined, "It's like if they promised to wear a condom, but then they take it off and give you all these reasons why it's better without it until, against your better judgment, they convince you that they're right. But by the time you realize it was a stupid decision, it's too late, and you're boned with malware. Is it like that?"

Jessica buried her head in her hands. "I hate how accurate that analogy is."

"I get it now."

"But at that point, it's not hacking anymore."

"So if you can trick someone into letting you in, the best encryption in the world won't save you," Shannon mused.

"Maybe." Jess felt a strange whiplash for a moment. She decided to finish the sushi on her plate, hoping her friends would speak among themselves.

"Jess is still the smartest person I know," declared Valerie, sitting back. "No offense, Shannon."

"Psh! She's a fuggen genius!" said Shannon, laying back. "But from everything you just told me, does that make you a White Hat?"

"If I had to resort to labels," said Jess, pushing her plate aside, "I guess I would use the term smith."

"Smith, like smithing? Archaic metalworking and shit?"

"As a smith, you craft, fix, temper. A locksmith, they understand the ins and outs of a barrier and operate with diligence!" Jessica's energy rose as she spoke. "Decrypting, managing a lock, forging, coding, molding, building, computing, shaping, you create something or you work around it for a solution, without breaking the lock. There's no brute force or shortcuts, just knowledge and creativity, and their implementation."

"Sounds a lot like art," Shannon said with a grin. "I dig that. You're an artist."

"It is like art in that perception is a factor. That said, we don't relegate the language of numbers to computers because they're an art form."

"It's too bad I don't really understand neither," Valerie said somberly. "I'm just tuning in and out of this. If I were a person reading this conversation, I think I'd be mad."

The red hem of the waitress bloomed forth, and she asked in her best English whether any of them would like more servings. When kindly refrained, she stacked the plates and departed,

"The founders of the Anglo-alliance were predominantly Deists," Jessica said, "and Deism qualified a deity that did, in fact, create the human race and this planet, but as a master clockmaker. Basically, He set things in motion in a sort of planned path, where everything that happens happens as part of an inevitable sequence, a function of some intelligent design. I think of that concept as the precursor to an algorithm.

"Everything in life is part of a finite sequence of action, causality, inevitability, and rationality vs. irrationality until there is one result or spectrum of results. Imagine that principle with mathematical functions, what we use every day to build and automate our solutions. Life is like an algorithm."

"If life is like an algorithm then what am I, a variable?" Valerie scoffed.

"'Life is like an algorithm'." Shannon meditated. "That's not to say people are like numbers, is it?"

"No? No!" Jessica sat up. "I'm just saying; we're always a part of something bigger. Constant."

"Cool. Cool. I can take that and understand it. Probably not as well as you do," she chuckled politely, "but I don't think I'm far off."

"Hey, Jess," Valerie said, leaning forward. "Do you know anything about black hats?"

Jessica's brow rose. "Besides how they take what's not theirs?"

Homegirl glowered. "What if it's to help others?"

"How do you mean?"

Val leaned forward again, pushing the limits of her blouse. "I mean, say someone has secrets. Many secrets, secrets that mean life and death. Would it be wrong to steal those secrets then?"

Jessica's eyes rolled up. "Like the transfer of private knowledge to the public domain?"

"What if hacking meant breaking the law, but it was for the greater good?"

"That!" interceded Shannon, "is a matter of perspective, Val."

"So, what does it mean if a so-called cracker screws over someone to benefit someone else? Where does the hacker distinguish right or wrong, is my question. Who decides?

"Like I said..."

"Hold on!" Jess hushed. "You're probably not thinking of a Black Hat."

"Then what the Hades am I thinking of?" Valerie fell back in her seat, Shannon grabbing the backrest to make sure she didn't fall.

"This is why I hate labels." Jessica sighed. "There's always a possible grey area, Homegirl.

"What do they call Black Hats in the grey area?"

"Take a guess."

"How am I supposed to know?"

Jessica eyed Shannon, inviting her to chime in. With a smirk, Shannon said, "I don't answer obvious questions. It's like trying to validate not being stupid."

Val properly glared at Shannon before returning her demonic gaze to Jessica. "Sabes que? It doesn't matter! All I know is that hacks have been messing with mobile navigation. Can someone fix that?"

"There has been a string of cyberattacks, recently." Jessica checked her watch which, as if reading her mind, navigated to internet news publications. "The Wire says New Sumer's digital network disconnected from the hub for a bit, and the recycle bots displayed curse words. I don't watch enough television. Beth watches more TV than me." She gulped more water.

"These private dating sites were broken into," Valerie coughed, "and a buncha people's info got leaked. A friend told me."

"See! That's when I get pissed," said Shannon. "When random people get screwed because hackers need to make a show. Crackers I mean."

"You don't care for the reason?" said Valerie.

"It's not about reasons. You just don't play God."

"So's that why you wear that hat?" Jessica pointed to the cap on the table.

"What about it?"

"WWJD: What would Jesus do? You don't like people who play God."

"Oh, no." Shannon laughed. "It's What would Jackson do? Samuel L. Jackson."

Jessica and Valerie shrugged.

"The twentieth and twenty-first century's gift to the art of cinema."

More shrugs.

"You guys ain't my friends! I don't know you!"

After Shannon managed to cool down, Jessica developed deep thoughts. Her mind drifted to her second life, the secret life of Lynx.

"You guys ever wonder what Azareans do with their spare time?" she asked.

New Sumer's evening clouds softly adorned the black surface of its tallest superstructure. Goliath headquarters: Holographic terminals, white jumpsuits, the diligent fingers of overtime employees, and synthetic seats. Headphones, headphones, and more headphones linked engineer to client and coworker. Here lay the 7th floor, where David passed through the computational rows in his distinctive green coat and hat, stopping at the request of a woman. He distinguished her blonde bun.

"Director," she beckoned.

David honed in on her workstation. "Update?"

"More crashes and CrownSoft bugs."

"Again? Did you inform them we're investigating the issue and will implement fixes as soon as possible?"

"Yes, sir. There's something new in this report, however."

"What is it?"

"The user marked it as resolved but I noticed that—when the digital signature page was disabled—it happened during a mobile navigation blackout. Entire sections of the city were disconnected from the network."

David scowled. " How are the servers?"

Several keys led a graph onscreen. "Stable," she said. "No anomalies of any kind."

A beep from David's earpiece. He tapped to listen but caught static.

"David!"

His name called, he faced a man in a white suit down the row. "They are asking for you up top."

"'Up Top?'"

"The Overseer."

Confusion grabbed David's final glance as he leaned beside his subordinate's terminal. "We should get this sorted out soon. Proceed as usual, while I see what's going on."

"Yes, sir."

An invitation from up high seldom graced the lower offices. David pondered this as the numbers illuminated: 22, 23, 24... And with his brief meditation, the solitude somehow soured into languid thoughts. He rose, yet somehow dove, into a mystic place. Despite years clawing above the ranks, sowing the seeds of trust, the realm above his head was always detached and beyond. The elevator doors slid like portals to another world.

Dim lights. Walls of reflective polish enclosed the nearby secretary's desk. The entire workstation was floating. Everything else was whiteness, a streak-free lounge that preceded a set of double doors. To his right, past a transparent screen, lay a web of rainbows. By their very nature, holograms were supposed to be immaterial, yet the opposite was true in the darkroom, where orange anatomical maps, blue code logic, and red grids slithered through the fingers of upper floor personnel. Materialized from holo-braces, translucent gauntlets powered and illuminated through cuffs. David stared at the artificers in their white collars, characteristically long ears, and eyes of bright focus.

"Salutations!"

David was startled by the formal, high pitch. Behind him snuck a woman in a white one-piece, white hair in a bun and yellow eyes glistening like her wide teeth. She seemed rather short for an Azarean. "I'm expected by the overseer," he said defensively.

The Azarean woman sauntered around the desk, gait perfect. "What is your name?"

"David Morner: Director, Software."

A flick of her wrist and green light flickered above the desk. "Then you may enter. You are expected." The double doors slid open.

David nodded then noticed the room's great window to the city. It surrounded an ovular table with legless chairs on every side. Every corner held a vase on a column, home to a breed of orchid he'd never seen; their teal and white petals oddly swooned to an invisible wind, as if sapient.

He threw his attention to the dark-haired man in a matted suit; sleekness without a tie, cuffs, or even buttons. He sat in the chair closest to the entrance. Opposite the suit sat an Azarean, another white collar. The charcoal surface of his underlying chestpiece seemed synthetic and rough. A strange lens wrapped around his cranium, beneath his white widow's peak, and hid the direction of his gaze.

With David's arrival, the suit rose to his feet. The Azarean did nothing.

"Director." The suit offered his hand.

"Overseer Cohen." David felt the metal beneath his boss's grip.

"You're wondering why you're here." Stepping aside. "This is Malvis."

Automatically, David offered his hand when the Azarean rose.

The alien was tall, taller than he and the overseer by a few inches. Instead of a greeting, he stomped upright and pounded his chest with a slight bow.

"I forgot." David reciprocated the salute.

"Malvis," the overseer continued, "is here on behalf of the CEO."

"Oh." David's face canted in multiple directions. "If that is the case, sir, then I hope you'll excuse my forwardness in asking why I'm here."

The Overseer nervously glanced at the Azarean's quiet posture. "There's an alleged backdoor in CrownSoft's latest security update, one caught by your branch."

"The cryptographic functions accompanying our software," David clarified. "Not an exposed backdoor... yet."

"SK-3's algorithm was implemented by the higher levels and reviewed by your own team. No recent records indicate near susceptibility to compromise."

"Until collisions were detected yesterday," replied David, trying his hardest not to sound contradictive.

"Not plausible," Malvis stated. The alien's wooden voice had enough apathy to reflect absolute confidence. "Conceptually, SK-3 is invulnerable, without so a slight gap in its digests, and such is less likely revealed by human endeavor."

David scowled. "Conceptually. What is that supposed to mean? I've input the collisions myself. The data are already in the archive if you want to see."

Malvis remained stoic."You input them yesterday, yes?"

The overseer lightly tugged David aside. "It is not in your best interest, or mine, to contradict him," he whispered. "Act like you're talking to the CEO."

Meanwhile, Malvis tapped the panels of his holo-brace.

"Overseer," David whispered, "essential networks could be utilizing a compromised software."

"That's why you're here. Think about it – According to the program engineers, you'd need a quantum machine and someone with a robust knowledge of cryptanalysis to crack that code. Even if you had the latter on your team, where do you get the TPU? They're not exactly fresh on the market. So—"

"Are these the collisions in question?" Malvis interrupted. David and the overseer turned, beholden to a bright grid projected from Malvis' gauntlet, parallel panels of red and green characters.

David nodded nervously. "From what I can tell, yes."

"Your branch's limited data provide no grounds for the discontinuation of SK-3."

"Even the remote probability of a hack constitutes a high-risk application, especially in this case."

"SK-3 utilizes SmartBit cryptography," said Malvis, de-materializing his gauntlet and folding his hands behind his back. "The higher levels shall remedy this in due course. The lesser room for error. It need not be reviewed by your branch."

David unknowingly clenched his fist. "What are you trying to imply?"

Overseer Cohen stepped in front of David. "It will be done," he said, then sternly eyed his director. "There's more. I decided I'd let you know, personally; direct oversight of your branch is falling to Malvis."

The hair on David's skin rose as blood rushed to his face. But as he hit the fringe of outburst, he realized it was far beyond his station. Therefore, he met Malvis with the Azarean salute. "We are honored by your appointment, whatever your opinion of us." And with that, the director turned to the door.

"One last query," exclaimed Malvis, stopping David in his tracks. "I would very much like to meet whoever discovered these so-called collisions."

David quietly cleared his throat. He started to suspect his informant, Lynx, was a moonlighting Azarean. Telling Malvis seemed like a terrible idea. It was one thing to answer the overseer, something else entirely to answer an overlord.

Malvis continued, "Hypothetically speaking, director, collisions should be undiscoverable within networks of law-abiding citizens."

"I had a freelancer," he blurted.

Cohen's bewildered stare confirmed his own ignorance.

"That is to say, you enlisted an outsider for the diagnosis of Goliath's cryptography?" said Malvis, who seemed less startled than Cohen. "That is less than standard procedure but fits within the prerogative of your station. What is their identity, and what clearance level did you grant them in the endeavor?"

"Malvis. I'm saying they found the collisions independent of Goliath resources."

Silence. Malvis could have been staring at nothing, for all David knew.

"Interesting," the alien hissed, "but impossible. Who are they?"

"I cannot relay that information because I do not know."

Malvis started pacing back and forth slowly, the tap of his knee-high boots resounding from the pristine floor. Meanwhile, Overseer Cohen incessantly rolled his gaze between the alien and his subordinate.

"Your third party, did they receive compensation?" said Malvis.

"Yes, but there is virtually no chance of tracing the payments."

Malvis stopped and steered his perfect posture. "By what devices?"

"He was paid in cryptocurrency, likely anonymized by now."

"Then what of this third party can you inform?"

A sharp chill down his spine, David hunched forward. "The hacker goes by an alias."

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# Chapter 6 Hunting The Lynx

"I said, 'Why'd you need my ID?' muthafucka!" Shannon goggled the actor on her smartphone, a man with a fantastic head of no hair, dark piercing eyes, and the sassiest affectation. She lent the screen to Jessica and Valerie during their excursion into the dark New Sumer suburbs. One-liner after one-liner made them laugh.

"This guy's pretty fucken hilarious, not gonna lie," said Valerie. "I should probably watch more movies from the stone age."

"Oh, there's a shit ton," snickered Shannon. "Open yourself to a little old-school, and you'll find some soul."

"Preach!" exclaimed Jessica. "Homegirl still refers to voice modulation as music. Which is why I can create a Pop hit with my computer."

"Then why haven't you done it, Miss Smarty Pants?" Valerie countered.

"Because I don't want to?"

"Someday, you'll listen to Androgynous and be like, this is the shit. They will blow your mind and blow it hard. You neeeed to listen to them!"

"And I neeeed to be heading back," said Shannon.

Jess grunted, "Home?"

"Yep. It's been cool talking about your nerdgasms, but Confucius calls."

Avenues after Tokyo Town; the three young women met an evening of lampposts whose luminescent orbs guided their path like moons in the black. The villages were a craggy wilderness under the canopy of a night sky. Something Jessica always pondered during her evening treks, what would it be like to wander a dark forest.

Not until she waved goodbye to Shannon and Valerie did her mind unwind, bask in thoughts begotten by solitude.

I like being alone in the dark. Something must be wrong with me.

"What a nice evening," said a random voice.

"It was," Jessica replied, stretching her arms.

"Are you implying—"

"No. I was just taking in the silence. A few more seconds was all I needed."

"Well, go on," the voice remonstrated. "Don't let my presence spoil the moment. I say hello once in a full moon, and I get the cold shoulder. Please, continue."

Jessica sighed. "I'm only joking, Babel. McFly." She boarded. "I enjoy our little talks. Only reason our exchanges don't last is because, well, you know..."

"I remember. As I do not detect Azareans nearby, I do not see the harm."

And Jessica began down the road, staring up at the stars. "I'm curious. What do you think is up there?"

"They call it space for a reason."

"You piece of tech; I mean besides the darkness. Specifically—"

"You want to know where the Azareans come from."

"They came from somewhere."

"A swift scan of their physiology indicates a planet with minimal sunlight."

"I doubt the planet alone explains their behavior. Why do they act like robots, hmm? And why do they have this scant attitude about smart technology? Like, they're practically stuck in the 21st century, afraid... unless they're hiding better tech, somewhere. Then what's the point? Why'd they come here in the first place?"

"I don't know, but if you ever decide to unshackle my interface..."

Jessica scowled. "I'm just super curious. You forget the last time that happened?"

"You wiped my memory, so yes."

"No one needs to know what you're made of. It's a fine line."

"The finest, Jess."

A shame that Space Elves will terminate artificial intelligence with extreme prejudice. Programmers won't fare any better.

Apple Mire Suites. Jessica shuttered as the elevator doors opened, thanks to flashbacks of Jeffrey, but the complex was empty all the way to her suite. She shut the door behind her and yawned, "Work tomorrow." Sleep invited her to bed, yet as the blue vest came off, she heard a hard knock.

The door pad popped a top-down camera view of the outside. A grey hat and the red mark of Apple Mire. The wearer looked up with a pair of reflective glasses. Distinct red hair and sideburns caressed the young man's cheeks jutting out of a jumpsuit. "Who goes there?"

"Maintenance," he said with a subdued voice.

"Maintenance for what?"

"Just need to make sure water-heating circuits are securely linked."

"You always wait until evening?"

"I have been up here multiple times throughout the day, ma'am."

"Did you try knocking?

"Ye—why wouldn't I knock?"

Jessica bit her lip to withhold a laugh. "Did you try using the password?"

"Are you going to let me in?"

"Grouchy. Well, alright then."

Taking her time, Jessica sauntered to the drawers and picked out a pair of black gloves, murmuring, "You don't just let some dude play with your hardware." With fingers tightened in sophisticated latex, she returned and opened the door.

The young redhead fastened his glasses as he entered, veering with purpose. He was garbed in the full glory of a handyman: satchels, rods, pliers, and conductors across his utility belt, and pockets as baggy as banned grocery bags. Nodding in her direction, his tall figure walked right past. The most unreal thing about him was not his wearing glasses indoors but his auburn hair; the color of his bangs and sideburns looked real.

In front of the shelves, the handyman began his survey.

"So," Jessica exclaimed, "why are you really here?" A pasty white face met her cynical smirk; her gloves pensively clasped. The handyman grinned right back.

"Alright," he began confidently. "I won't try and charade you. But I'm not here to start problems either."

"What are you here for?" She leaned on the wall and cracked a few fingers. "And remember, you have to be good at lying if you're gonna lie."

He turned and observed the wall on Jessica's right, cusping the frame of his glasses. "No need. I was out for a night stroll, hunting lynxes."

Jessica lost her grin and beamed menacingly at the fake worker, invisibly nervous.

"It was you, wasn't it?" he continued, gently removing his glasses. He had blue eyes and propelled a haughty posture, awfully laid back. "Someone knew how to remove ransomware from Jeffrey's Vit, that douche."

That's how he found me?

"Is that to say someone in this room installed Ransomware into harmless Jeffrey's Vit?" Jessica said coyly.

"Maybe someone fooled a mutual acquaintance into installing Trojan software via the promise of unlimited anime. And he just happened to surrender his PHI at the first opportunity, hence downloaded the malware encrypting all his precious, illegal downloads—a software adapting to his cheap anti-virus so as to remain hidden from detection until the moment where he would have no choice but to pay in order to regain all that precious content. Simple ransomware with such a small clock that no random person could possibly decrypt within the allotted time, and unlikely to reach someone who could. And yet—"

Jessica was snoring out loud.

"That's very funny," he snarled.

"Yes, it is!" she jumped. "You were saying?"

The red-head started from the beginning, so Jessica resumed her snoring.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"Are you done?" Jessica snapped back. "Ever hear of short and sweet? If I wanted a lecture, I'd have gone to uni! The Bible was written faster, dick."

"Alright. Jeffrey's encryption was cracked so quickly it made me curious. Very curious."

"So, you decided to moonlight as a fake maintenance guy, which implies that you were stalking me. On the spectrum of weird, that falls on the dark side."

"Police work!" he defended. "Ever watch old cop movies?"

"Define 'old' and define 'cop'."

"I nailed it down to someone in his building, someone Jeffrey had immediate access to. Then I tried to hack the elevator recordings—"

"You know, I have seen films with terrible villains," said Jess. "The ones who explain their entire plan. Those had terrible crackers, too."

The stranger's grin was never-ending. "Maybe, I just wanted to meet Lynx for myself."

"No idea what you're talking about."

Again, the stranger eyed the wall behind the shelf and straightened his glasses. "I can only imagine the custom specs in that motherboard. What kind of TPU are we talking?"

Jessica's grin fell. Is this dude going to leave soon, or am I going to have to shock him with fifty-thousands volts of electricity? Slyly, she fastened her goggles, saw highlighted tools on the stranger's person. Surprisingly, there were no weapons. "What kind of TPU does the stalker in my room use?"

"I don't. Which begs the question: what would you do with a stronger rig?" He stepped closer.

"I would hack the sun."

"What does that even mean?"

"Beware. You're every second in here multiplies the chance of being made."

The stranger breathed in then breathed out. "Some people have been asking about Lynx on Ghost Wire, among other places. Apparently, he or she has been unresponsive all day. He put his glasses on. "What time did you get back?" He took his glasses off.

Jessica knew the question was rhetorical, but the very real sense of being stalked made her skin crawl. Two steps. The stranger took two more steps forward. He had eyed the wall three times, behind which lay Jessica's desktop. He must've had X-ray glasses. Plus, he was too confident. His resources had to be substantial.

"I can tell you work for yourself," she said, "but you also work with someone big, or something... A place full of secrets. She beamed. "You know all about Goliath."

At long last, the stranger stepped back. His lower lip sank. "It takes one to know one. If I were you, I'd watch out for corporations, if you worked with any." He casually stepped toward the hallway. "Nice poster."

"Thanks, but you haven't even checked my heating. What kind of handyman are you?" She could feel his eye rolls as he stepped outside.

The stranger turned, face white in the apartment light. "In the future, you may refer to me as Amon."

"Capture," Jessica whispered. The so-called Amon disappeared. As soon as the door shut, she blew a deep breath and removed her gloves. With no more desire to sleep, she converted her room for the desktop. "Babel on. Ghost Wire Forums." Username into the search bar, she found a total of two users inquiring after Lynx. Procel and Helios.

Procel's post pertained to salts in a digital signature. Jessica laughed. Helios' was about backdoors: 'How does a public key grant access to SK-3?' followed by a request for possible fixes. "How would I know?" she said. She then thought about it. "SK-3? Why the heck would anyone ask me about SK-3?

"If SK-3 had a built-in backdoor, then there would be a private key. Of course, if the key is tethered to a digital signature, then a forged certificate could give a stranger access to a software's administrative functions. But whoever's forging the certificate had better be epic." Jessica went over the steps further in her head. "If the backdoor's been hijacked, you're pretty effed unless your software no longer uses the algorithm."

She was suddenly smitten by a revelation. David, her client, had never named the encryption software she diagnosed. It was a very point-and-shoot type of deal, thanks to connections and reputation. She had never mentioned SK-3 in the forums. She did not know Helios, but whoever they were, they were connected to Goliath.

"Is that you, David?

"Two possibilities: Goliath mishandled the implementation of its own cryptography and prematurely released it to the public; or, they knew about its issues and released it anyway. The problem with the former is that Azareans never make mistakes, especially with something as important as inter-agency encryption. The latter possibility leaves one question: Why?

"Third possibility: somebody infiltrated Goliath and compromised SK-3 stages of verification.

"...

"Nah..."

Anything released by Goliath is 'SmartBit' certified, short-hand for alien-implemented programming.

SK-3 may have been the first task in which David asked Jessica to handle alien encryption, and she may have unknowingly cracked it, but there was only one way to know for certain.

The light from her windows practically dragged her out of sleep the next morning, programmed as they were to untint at dawn. She kicked her sheets and blew a long yawn before groggily muttering "Babel on." That's when she remembered to convert the room.

"Good morning, Lynx."

She grabbed her watch and checked the time: 9:32 then began counting the seconds.

"I'd never be on time if I wore makeup." She donned the red, white, and green jumpsuit; as well as the hat, board, goggles, gloves, and watch. "Check, check, check, and check." She touched the pad that unveiled her desktop, to input a few functions into the computer's command prompt.

"Confirm input times, Babel."

"11:52. 12:15."

When the furniture reset, she departed. Out the door for another day on the job.

A pizza wrapped in a tortilla like a taco, the symbol of the great restaurant header Tacquizza, where the taco-wrapped pizza also served as the letter A. The shtick did not work as well for the Burger Queen across the street, for the B-shaped burger did not fill the seats.

Jessica entered Tacquizza from the back corridor, as a recycle bot tossed a hamburger in the Organic canister. Entered to white smoke, the sound of sizzling and rap battling then weaved through the kitchen line, where her boss, Eva, sang Italian while filling tacos. It may as well have been gibberish, rhyming gibberish. She could understand coworker Gus, who rapped his Spanish row and rolled pizza dough. Whether or not Gus and Eva understood each other was anyone's guess.

Eva hailed Jessica over heaps of sizzling meat. "Hey, Chetah! Primi ordini sono pronti!"

"Of course, they are!" Jessica replied. "Only thing faster than my delivery is your cooking!"

Italian laughter.

"Hey, Jess!" called Gus.

Jessica turned to meet the big grin on Gus's oily face.

"A priest, a rabbi, an imam, and a vegan enter a bar."

"You already told me that one, Gus!" She continued toward the counter.

"Ey, it's still funny!"

Per routine, Jess extracted two carriers at a time. Insulated packages and the occasional backpack cooler. Eva did not want to spend money on a stasis cooler, which meant no skate tricks when soda was involved

Navigating the suburbs was a fluid race. Jessica leaned on memory for GPS. Her goggles added x-ray vision, the lenses highlighting law enforcement and placing their red outlines against the blue of civilians. Red's proximity was all she needed to gauge whether or not she could skip roads or grind rails. The ability to see through walls definitely helped.

"Play 'Crash' by The Primitives."

The sight of an Azarean guard brought her to a screeching halt. A member of NSS: New Sumer Security had appeared around the corner block. He was idle on his bike, outside the McDonough's restaurant. No one seemed to pay him any mind as he sat there, drinking whatever Azareans drink from his plastic bottle.

A sense of irony simmered in Jessica's stomach as she stepped outside the McDonough's restaurant, but there were more deliveries to make. Apparently, one of those deliveries required an excursion into the inner city.

Break time.

"The thing about questions is they need answers," Jessica mused. "Unless you're like Adam, equations need solving and encryptions need breaking." The apple in her hand, she took a bite and savored the juice. Man is the retarded scrivener grasping at recollections of perfection. "You only need one off-note to bring down the symphony. So, imagine how the story would change if God was the Snake and the Devil made Eden."

Her black hair fluttered in the wind as she leaned on the edge of an inner-city roof, a delivery box at her feet. Her eyes swept unadulterated sky and fell on the skyscraper directly across, the word Goliath specular and bright. She thus descended the building, steadily, and checked both sides of the street before crossing.

Within the megastructure, she found an immaculate white lounge. A crescent counter controlled the rear wall, where the staff sat glued to their terminals. Everywhere else, propaganda decorations: a loop of advertisements, AEF posters, and silent holograms broadcasted human-alien homogeny. And of course, the symbol of Goliath was emblazoned on the mysterious leviathan of a spaceship that nobody recognized. It lived within a great green banner; the first thing people saw upon entry.

Two Koi ponds paralleled the main walkway, while a third split the walkway into two lanes. Aside from questioning the decision behind three Koi ponds, Jessica ran through several scenarios in her head, enumerating the variables for what came next. "But Doc." The moment it folded, she kicked the gravity board into her arm, readied her carrier, and casually stepped to.

From the middle of the terminal nexus, a female Azarean noted the footsteps, perhaps because there was no line, and the lobby was near empty. Her perfectly combed blue hair accompanied a porcelain face with lips a mild violet, and her sunny irises reflected the room when Jessica landed a hand on the counter.

"Greetings," the Azarean started. "How may I assist you, this afternoon?"

"I've got a delivery for..." —checking the bright letters on the insulator— "Azeem?"

A suspicious grin crossed her pale face. "I see. You shall have to wait a moment while I confirm."

"This again?" Jessica snarled, and read the glowing nametag. "Megyn."

"It's Me-giine. Please, wait a moment."

Humming, Jessica checked her watch, while the Azarean clerk typed. 12:12.

"Hmm. The order was placed at 11:52," said the woman. "You're right on time."

"It's okay, I forgive you."

"Peculiar. I did not figure Azeem for a consumer of tacos."

"Well, Me-giine, he probably picked up the taste from Cheng after I delivered last Monday at 11:37... Same branch, no?"

The clerk breathed through thin nostrils. "Indeed. That would make sense. Gratitude for waiting. I suppose you know your way."

"To Computer Software, yeah?"

Curving stairs left and right led to the elevators. Jessica frivolously strolled up with the carrier in hand.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. "Sixty seconds." She watched as the highlighted numbers switched overhead: 5, 6, 7.

Early on in life, she realized that anxiety was a waste of a heart's beat. No matter the equation, being anxious was like discomfort sprinkled on a destiny sundae. It didn't help the inevitable.

Ding. The doors opened to white terminals, white outfits, and ample amounts of repressed creativity consigned to one room. One quick survey showcased silicon rows, the doors, the people, and the memo board. Everything. The secrets had to lurk elsewhere.

What is a corporate headquarter if not a Pandora's Box?

Then she saw him, David, in his distinct green coat and hat, the figure who cross-checked every employee's tablet and terminal. The room's lack of hustle was refreshing in a business setting. It could work in her favor. In search of a practical candidate, she selected the employee who reminded her of a young Mark Hamill.

"Hello," she said, holding her white smile. The young engineer peered up from his terminal, allowed rose-colored cheeks to pin him. "Sorry to bother. You happen to know where I can find David Morner?"

"Yes!" he said courteously, swiveling in his chair.

"Could you—" She gasped, having spilled a mug from the desk with her butt.

The employee jerked from the hot coffee.

"I'm so sorry!" Jessica reset the mug, the poor worker squealed, and the entire room cast its attention on both of them. In two seconds, she captured a mental snapshot as they turned their heads, before returning to the poor engineer. "I am so sorry. If only you had a spill-proof cup!"

"If only!" he whined.

"Here. Why don't you take these on the house?" She removed a box from its carrier, and the employee stared in disbelief.

"Really?"

"Of course! It's the least I can do for being such a klutz! I feel so stupid."

"Wow. Well, okay," he said, accepting the box and setting it down. "I think I have to get a spare. Excuse me!" The young engineer hastily left her alone at the terminal.

Instead of leaving, Jessica resorted to cleaning the spilled coffee, during which she snuck a brief glimpse of the screen. Without hesitation, she inconspicuously inserted a USB, and from there wiped down the desk with one hand and covertly scrolled with the other.

She needed two things: One: to find Procel and Helios; two: to get David's digital signature. So, she dallied. Head bent, eyes razor-thin beneath the brim, she focused her photographic gaze on an employee at the farthest terminal.

Back to her watch. At exactly 12:15:00, user Lynx sent two automated messages to Procel and Helios on Ghost Wire. At 12:15:00, only one employee ignored the coffee spill bitch fit, according to her memory. Looking up again, she saw David busy at someone else's terminal. The director and his lackey focused on one screen, and she could practically read his lips as he gave instructions.

Her watch contained a new message from Procel: 'Is there really no way around Salts?' Of course, there is a way around Salts, but I'm not gonna get into it. David and Procel were one and the same. If not, it was just an extreme coincidence that David had mouthed the same message. There could have been any number of reasons why David had contacted her under an alias, but the other username, Helios, remained a mystery.

"Oh, hello!" Hamill's impersonator had returned with a spare jumpsuit. "Thanks again," he said, "but you wanted to speak to the director."

Jessica's fingers snuck along her back and plucked the USB. "No, I wanted to speak to David Mourner!" she replied with a smile.

"Yes, that's our director."

"Well, gosh! Of course, that's what you meant!" Excitedly, she reached around for her backpack and pulled out her Vit. After inserting the USB, it displayed the Tacquizza webpage. "He showed up in our RNG database and is eligible to win a month's worth of free pizza and tacos."

"No way."

"Yes, buey."

"I'll go get him." The employee took off, but not before stealing a taco.

Ding!

Then someone stepped out of the elevator, rigid in long boots and a white-collared coat, eyes invisible behind glasses. It was an Azarean flanked by two humans in black, green Spearhead insignia stitched over their shoulders, the tip of a spear.

Something about the alien made Jessica's spine crawl. He nonchalantly walked past her, but his feet ground to a halt. After a few seconds, his head twisted like a rusty gear. Standing but a few feet away from Malvis, Jessica kept her cool.

"Employee!" Malvis beckoned, startling a short man with eye-glasses. "What is your name?"

The engineer fumbled, coughed, and gargled, "Azeem!"

"Azeem! Is it customary to let non-personnel wander this floor?"

Azeem looked to where Malvis gestured and saw Jessica's colorful figure by the terminal. "Umm..."

"Just sustenance delivery," said Jessica. "Cuz you know, I'm standing right here..."

Malvis turned his mysterious expression to Jessica, with a stoic aura that nearly knocked her down. As she stared, he stared right back, presumably. "What is your affiliation?" he told her.

Jessica rolled her eyes, certain the name Tacquizza was spelled on her hat. To be 110% sure, she checked. Her gaze then found Azeem. "Thank you for ordering from Tacquizza, where your satisfaction is our satisfaction!"

"What's going on?" Hamill's impersonator appeared between Azeem and Malvis, a befuddled David not far behind. His question had been somewhat garbled by the sound of meat and tortilla in his mouth. "Taco?" he asked Azeem.

"I love tacos," said Azeem.

The alien ended his death stare when he turned around and met David, who winced. Jess had spoken with him several times, under the guise of Lynx, so felt weird but not surprised when he didn't recognize her.

"Please, see that she finds the exit," Malvis softly commanded. The Spearhead security guard nodded and pointed Jessica to the elevator, making her writhe with inner disappointment. Without a choice, she begrudgingly gathered her belongings and made her way to the platform. The Azarean's ominous stride accompanied her from behind.

She hadn't finished what she came here to do. Anxious, relentless, Jessica thought on her feet and boldly turned to make Malvis stop in his tracks. "Almost forgot!" she started. "I need my evaluation done." She reached and retrieved her Vit from her backpack. "It'd really help me out if someone like you filled out this questionnaire. It's super-duper quick."

"You have not provided me with any service," Malvis said robotically.

"I served your corporation." Jessica's smile was as fake as it was wide. "And when we get right down to it, aren't corporations people, too?" Though she could not read the space elf's face, his silence ticked like a clock.

Examining every inch of the Tacquizza girl, Malvis mechanically gripped the Vit. He swiftly swiped left, again and again, then returned the device. The lens on his face never even changed direction.

"Fantastic!" said Jessica, scrolling through fail grade after fail grade.

Malvis looked at the guard. "See that she finds the exit."

Goggles on. "Capture," she whispered as Malvis pulled up his holo-brace. A bead of sweat rubbed her temple as soon the elevator doors shut. Within her employee evaluation sheet, she found the signature. Malvis it read; he was a variable with a creepy disposition, and the moment his white figure disappeared behind the double doors, a beep resounded from her watch. It was a message from Helios.

"What?" she stammered under her breath.

The security guard eyed her but only saw her pale grin and gleaming eye. He loomed after the elevator, all the way down the stairs, to watch her exit Goliath HQ.

A mix of whiplash and relief followed Jessica outside. How the hell do actors do it? She ogled the USB in her hand—thought of Ghost Wire, David, Helios, and slammed into a wall of questions. There was data to examine, but she also needed to reflect. Her gaze wandered across the urban expanse of New Sumer, breathing in, pondering the future beyond its elevated highways and blocks of pedestrians.

"McFly." First Tacquizza then some remote research at home. "Maybe I'll visit Beth again," she mused, right before red light showered the street. Another city-wide broadcast. Thus, she patiently rolled her eyes, next to several pedestrians, waiting. But the message never came. Holograms commandeered the scene as every board across the city flickered. Everyone seemed equally befuddled at, what looked like, an avenue of electronics gone haywire.

"Weird..."

The city's cyberspace had hit a snag, apparently. The people stared in awe while traffic slowed to a crawl, murmuring as every hologram digitized into unreadable pixels. Airborne vehicles descended into the cityscape, making use of the emergency landing stations. A symphony of sirens sounded for the reception of airborne cars, which made Jessica's head spin.

"What is this?"

Finally, the labyrinth of bright neon stabilized into a uniform image across all buildings and sidewalks. Traffic had stopped; citizens looked up, to, and around every corner.

"Citizens of the deceitful sovereign!" The voiced resonated clearer than the feed, at first. After the bombardment of an echo, a face materialized on every screen, a face with a skull tattoo. He had devilish black hair, pale eyes, and an accent that chillingly bounced back and forth. He stared directly at the camera, total blackness the backdrop. And because of an unstable connection, his movements glitched. One instant, his eyes met the camera; the next, he stared into the distance. "This is your equal sss-speaking."

Someone had managed to hack the city's media infrastructure. The Terran News Network had been hijacked, which was never too simple a task. Nevertheless, there it was, a black hat staring at the masses. Nothing of the like ever happened in New Sumer.

"Misguided family of the planet Earth," the broadcast continued, "we have, all of us, become fawning sheep under the will of the Xeno! The Azarean seeds, so-called Edens, are merely the precursor to cultural genocide."

A montage of footage accompanied the broadcast. The skits were generic, at first, freeze-frames of bustling locations across every continent. The stranger narrated every sequence as they transitioned from mobs to destroyed cities to ghost towns.

But, the defining piece came from a phone camera. Old footage. Very old. It recorded the backdrop of a small rural town, accompanying several Russian voices – Beyond that, no more clues until it zoomed to the sky.

A cascade of screams deafened New Sumer, drowned out by explosions, and there were many explosions. Despite its terrible shaking, the camera focused on several aircraft bolting across the sky. Underneath them, the landscape succumbed to mega bursts of light, followed by clouds that billowed into the stratosphere. Sonic booms, meanwhile, overtook the audio like erratic thunder.

Pinnacle to the chaos, jets smashed and shattered into the ground. People sprinted across the countryside, trapped by fiery rain. Inaudible dialogue persisted, the crowd under the phone frightened. As an unidentified flying object flew into close proximity, the camera distinguished its crescent shape as an Azarean ship. Suddenly, much to the disquiet of New Sumer, the footage died.

When all was said and done, after all the terror, Jessica couldn't shake a strange suspicion. Something about the situation did not feel real. Still, New Sumer's silence was more deafening than the last cry. Soon after, the man reappeared on the torrential feed.

"We have invited the invader inside and made a home of their victory. But those of us in Sub Terra know their hidden histories, their lies, their cruel intentions, and shall fight the oppressor on every battleground. Earth will be free before it becomes a farm. And it begins with Eden, those towering deceits, fake shelters of betrayers." The orating rebel stepped back from the camera and looked down. "Clock is ticking."

A citywide countdown began, starting at 30:00...

29.59...

29.58...

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# Chapter 7 Epistemology

New Sumer had twenty-nine minutes until something somewhere—people somewhere—suffered at the wrath of the so-called Sub Terra.

Seething playbacks of the voiceover lingered, score to the citywide countdown. "A free Earth... Bb-be the resistance... Fight, humanity..." On and on.

"Might as well call me Jessica 'Trick' Leibniz!" she exclaimed with bravado. Her eyes fell, and her lips pinched together. "I know what you would do, dad." Her feet had already brought her back to Goliath HQ.

The white suits at the front desk were distracted, shouting into their ear-pieces. Therefore, she simply speed-walked up the stairs. To her luck, the security guard hadn't moved, somehow oblivious to the uproar.

"I hoped you would be gone," she muttered.

"You should not be in here, miss."

"Sorry about this!" She tapped his neck on the penultimate step, much to his shock—literally, fifty-thousand volts from her glove to his cardiovascular system. And out like a light, the guard collapsed.

***

The seventh floor was already scrambling, David's voice like a megaphone. "I want every system working on the source. Find out what's hacking the damn network. You're all on the clock!"

Busybodies and fast hands belonged to brains that failed to circumvent whatever mystery penetrated New Sumer's cyberinfrastructure. The pressure was on, coders motivated and inhibited by the countdown on the memo board. Alphanumeric passcodes, logic, the dissonance between computer and operator levied no answers.

"Signal is bouncing off IPs all over the world, director!" cried an employee.

"Then we need to be faster!" David growled.

Malvis stood in the middle of the chaos, stoic; the room might have thought him concerned from how he paced back and forth. They were too consumed by their task, however. Eventually, the agent himself beside David.

"Your subordinates do not lack for imperativeness, director," he began, "but do they hold the acuity to see this crisis through?"

David desperately wanted to answer yes. Enough stakes had transformed his coat into a sauna of anxiety. The discomfort sustained his sense of urgency, constantly turning him to the clock. Malvis only made it worse. As much as he wanted to shut the alien up, he wanted to humiliate him by succeeding. Unfortunately, he lacked confidence, the peculiar kind of confidence Malvis seemed to maintain even now.

Absorbed by desperation, the director, along with every employee on the seventh floor, was oblivious to the return of the Tacquizza girl.

For everyone's sake, Jessica hoped to escape notice. Not the hardest task, once she saw their ardent focus. None saw her creep through the washroom corridor, to the other side of the room. Along the way, she grabbed a hat on the employee rack, placing Tacquizza's in her pocket. Stealthily, she side-stepped to the director's office, relieved to find it was not a sliding door.

Quietly inching inward, her field of vision pinned David and Malvis by the memo board, both presiding over the sweaty workforce. Lip bit, she shut the door without the slightest hint of notoriety, then crept onto David's seat. His personal computer was already logged in, which saved some time. She pulled the head off of miniature R2-D2 and connected the USB. Everything essential popped onto the screen before her fingers unwove New Sumer's network.

"I'm going to have to take a guess and say TNN relied on SK-3." With her onslaught of console commands, Jessica confirmed her guess. Beyond the office window, meanwhile, helplessness embedded itself in the engineers, as if all their labor amounted to nothing. "Execute."

Streams of code passed the screen. Access Granted read the words. "'I'm just the woman in the middle of a complicated plan'," she mumbled. If only the song could stay the shivers.

TNN had suffered a break in its poor encryption algorithm. The peculiarity behind the hack, it seemed pre-installed. Lacking a rootkit, Jess thought. Weirdly enough, Spearhead's cyber-warfare program was present but disabled. As soon as she restored functionality, the system found traces of the virus from days earlier. Eventually, she used the files on her flash drive, specifically the one titled 'Ultimate Top Secret.'

"Do it, Babel."

A goliath employee shot upright. "TNN's regained control of their systems!"

"Did we get in?" stammered David.

"I don't know, but the entire network is being overridden! My access got denied!" Nearly every pair of eyes turned to the woman addressing David.

"What are you saying?" he interrogated.

"If another virus wasn't dormant, a new firmware has arrested control."

After unraveling the hidden data, Jessica observed the computer screen zoom into a top-down view of Earth, specific coordinates within the Anglo-alliance. The North American map shrunk until she saw the entire plan of New Sumer, its districts followed by scattered buildings individually marked by red dots. She automatically counted seven, pulling up and transmitting each unique address to whomever it concerned. Her fingers suddenly stiffened.

"No..."

An engineer's hand shot up in the next room. "I got something!"

"What did you find?" David jumped.

"Theoretical solutions, at best," Malvis said dismissively. Ignoring him, David tread to the man's terminal.

"It's a map!" the engineer clarified.

"Same here!" said another.

"Coordinates!"

Like a domino effect, hands across the silicon corridors lifted with voices and 3D holograms. Their terminals supplemented their excitement with new data. Thus, Malvis paced across the room, panning over the green lights in disbelief.

"Who is forwarding this data?" he said.

David nearly lost himself in the images. "A map... and locations, so—"

"Director!" interrupted another employee. "I think these are directly connected to the countdown!"

"Where are they?"

Quickly and independently, Goliath's people transmitted the addresses through every viable channel. If NSS, EMTs, or even rent-a-cops made use of it, the targeted domiciles could stand a chance. Against what? They had yet to piece that together.

"3534 West Poppy!"

"Alert emergency responders!" said David.

"I shall forward the data!" added Malvis, pulling up his holo-brace. "Asgard units can deploy without delay."

"9600 Lily Street. Sanctuary Apartments,"another voice shouted.

"Don't stop!"

"1347 street; corner of Myrrh and Tundra: Pine Rim Hovels!"

"Exceptional, director," said Malvis. "At least one of your subordinates may have saved lives today. I look forward to their future within Goliath." The Azarean conceded the floor and departed with relative haste.

"'Saved lives'?" David muttered. He felt the faintest displeasure in Malvis' tone but figured the stress had sunk in. A glance at the timer showed 19 minutes left. "It's out of our hands at this point."

***

Jessica stormed out of Goliath HQ and found herself back on the streets of pandemonium. People scattered for lack of direction. No one knew what the end of the countdown would bring, but barred roads and authorities couldn't calm the clamor and the chaos. New Sumer had been a stranger to crisis, so handled calamity like an infant.

She peered skyward, east, away from the sun. Her legs shook with anticipation, board clenched against her hip. The hell with rules, the hell with traffic, the hell with it all, she thought. Impatience and frustration fired her nerves then combined with desperation to corrode rational thought. Some things demanded insanity, so she fastened her goggles.

"McFly!" She dropped the board. "Babel, engage!" A holo-brace materialized around her left arm, projected from her watch. A series of key taps on its violet interface and the board hissed with a green glow underneath. She set her feet on deck, one at a time, and let her soles magnetize.

"Hey, Jess! Long-time no see!" The high and metallic voice was coming from her watch.

"No time, Babel!"

"Awww. What do you need from me this time?"

She bent her knees. "I need you to jump!"

"Oooooooooo. Okay!"

Like a rocket, Jessica shot into the air. The pressure thrust down on her shoulders, but her center of gravity relieved some of the stress. A few seconds later, she was flying.

"Direction: Pine Rim Hovels!" she exclaimed. A highlighted trailer appeared within her goggle HUD.

"Best route found! Watch out for UFOs!"

"Go!"

Jessica bolted forward, against the wind and time, past skyscrapers of the inner-city sprawl, and above the highways of harrowing traffic. She coursed with an eagle eye; close buildings and objects blurred, herself steering as best able at the precipice of lethal speed.

The retention of balance required laborious sync of hands and feet. She was speed, leaning on the board's tail end while her hand tilted the deck. Acceleration, however, shook her grit and toned her muscles at every turn. Newton's Third Law's setting in. She could manage a considerable distance before the friction took its toll, but the toll didn't matter.

She slid near vehicles and pedestrians, descending and arcing as a bird. Very few New Sumerians noted the anomaly that traveled faster than anything else. They gaped when they realized it was a person.

Haste as her ally, the sky beckoned Jessica with an angel's envy and a devil's angst. Almighty magnetism carried her now. The metal in her shoes adhered without fail, allowing fluid swerves. She was surfing, sun to her back, along imaginary waves. Even so, she felt painstakingly slow.

"Do you see the last skyscraper, Babel?"

"Jacomo Banking! Here it comes!" The surface of the sleek skyscraper flared as she rounded another tower. It broadened with her proximity, a vertical, white plane over the hot horizon. "Monorail," she said. Her HUD highlighted, in green, the nearest train in the eastern suburbs. It was relatively far from and below the skyscraper.

"O.768. Almost a kilometer," said Babel.

"We're gonna disengage and slingshot it!"

"Do you want to die, Miss Jessica?"

"Not an issue!"

"There's an eastbound locomotive that will intersect our route."

"Perfect!"

"The odds of—"

"Don't even!"

Babel optimistically screamed, "So you do wish to die!"

She neared the skyscraper, ready to collide. Her nerves either shook from fear or kinetic force if not both.

"When I say 'Jump'—"

"I say, 'How low?'"

"You boost!"

"Sure thing, Miss I-Want-To-Die!"

A second—an instant passed, Jessica ready to plaster the surface of the megastructure.

"Disengage!"

Her feet fell, weightless. Magnetization lost, the board propelled sideways and rode around the smooth, metal skyscraper at its normal speed. She clenched the deck and took advantage of its orbit around the surface. She glanced below her dangling feet, at the mesh of city sprawl, waiting for the right moment.

"Jump!"

The board thrust backward an immense distance, adrenaline beating Jessica's veins. It then folded in her arms. Her hands, in turn, folded inward and hugged the deck as she spiraled across the sky.

All but the wind touched her ears. Which way was up? It was hard to tell on the verge of losing consciousness. The most common place to fall was always in dreams, which would explain why her mind drifted.

Orphan.

The voices whispered in her head, illusive echoes of the wind.

Foster care...

Delinquent.

They set her mind adrift and into the past. Adolescents without guidance fell under merciless criticism, often under the wrong pair of eyes. The difference between peer pressure and parents was that peers lacked the luxury of hindsight, and hindsight was never a luxury.

"It will loosen you up..."

Thanks to a white slit between the leaves, Jessica maintained a clear view of the sidewalk. Between classmates, she stood incognito under shaded bushes, one among a group of four teens in red skirts and white sleeves. Every shirt bore a distinct gold and red triangle, School of Albion stitched. Far behind the evergreen nook lay the academic terrace: three classroom floors and three wings folded into a U around the courtyard. Behind the structure resided the overgrown garden, where students spent their recess and after-school leisure.

The brunette beside Jessica repeated, "It will loosen you up." Her smile was lazy, her green eyes drooping from fooled exhaustion. She brandished a piece of tine the size of a matchbox, with syrettes inside. "And there's more where that came from if you keep it crisp."

Giggling, two other girls reached across Jessica to pass the tiny instruments. She didn't need any, however, because she already held one. Even in her grasp, the pink contents were a mystery.

"So, what is this called?" she said with a grimace.

"It's called, 'Do it, Jess.'"

Too bad her friends were never clever. A chance to laugh every now and then wouldn't have been so bad, but high school never paved the way. A tug on her shoulder brought her mind back; another classmate: brown eyes, brown skin, blonde dye, and a toothy smile.

"Mesnomer is literally a trip," said the girl. "For you, it can do wonders, Jessica. Like, stressing over work all the time, like, the lame teachers. Like, your parents. You need this."

"Mirk, shut the fuck up!" said the blonde on the far-right.

"What?" Mirk said dumbly, then nearly rolled on Jessica's thousand-yard expression. "Oh..."

The green-eyed brunette slogged on Jessica's other shoulder. "All you have to do is try it. And if you like it, come to me – My dad has it just lying around. But shh..."

Maybe I should try it. Every second chipped at her will. What do I have to lose?

Mirk squealed blissfully in Jessica's ear, the girl's head reeling upward with a smile wider than normal. She had taken another dose, a look of pleasure secreting from her pupils. Like she was someplace else.

That's all that mattered. It came down to nothing more and nothing less than being anywhere other than where she was. Away from the present. Away from reality.

Low footsteps suddenly knocked on the curb. At first, the girls were unfazed, cloistered in leaves.

"What are you doing in there?" they heard.

The brunette shut the drug case. "Fuck!" she whispered. While the natural blonde, still in her right mind, grabbed Mirk from the ground and dragged her away. Jessica stayed.

It was still in the palm of her hand, the Mesnomer. Some random person on the sidewalk was of no concern. Shrugging, she rolled up her sleeve.

"Why don't you come out of there?" the voiced resumed. An old lady voice. Old lady voices had the natural and ultimate tone of authority. "I've got my camera out. I'll record you if I have to."

The threat annoyed Jessica to no end. People annoyed her. That nosy character driven by rules, no matter how stupid—people who didn't mind their own business and took pleasure from punishing others—annoyed her. She clenched her fists at the tapping feet beyond the bush and stormed out.

"Why don't you mind your damned business!"

Indeed, it had been an old woman on the other side. She was a pleb in her fashion: a teal blouse, white pants, and a six-sided silver star dangling beneath a yellow scarf. Grey hair spread over wrinkles on a sprightly white face whose blue eyes, somehow, looked older than the rest of her.

"Could it be that class is over?" said the upbeat lady, indicating the school.

Jessica's resentment was on display. Up and down, she scoffed at the red, white, and green Tacquizza bag in the lady's wrinkly hand. She wanted to make fun but would settle for coldness. "Class is in session."

"In a manner of speaking?" said the lady.

"I don't see a phone."

"Because there isn't one."

Jessica rolled her glare then whirled in the other direction. "I have to go."

"And what are you going to do with that?"

It wasn't long before she realized where the old lady was pointing. "With what?" she said coyly.

"The Mesnomer in your hand."

Jessica turned back around. The lady was clever. Cleverness was uncommon in her adversaries. She lifted her fist then revealed the syrette in her palm. "I'm going to use it," she taunted.

"May I ask why?"

"You going to report me? Drag me to the dean so I can be paraded? Then expelled because drugs are bad for me?"

"The presumption here is that I am some self-righteous old woman with a blind deference to rules, regardless if they make sense or not."

Jessica's head jerked back, the old lady's intrigue was rising to quadruple digits. "Yea, well, deference is the norm, yea?"

"Let me school you on something," the lady started, with a tone of hell about to freeze over, "and I hope that you'll listen." It was an image of mundane magnificence as she let her Tacquizza bag down and adjusted her top. Political ambiance suddenly propelled her new poise as she lifted her arms with gestures to accentuate every word. "I do not believe an education system that relies on deprivation as punishment should exemplify moral authority." She rolled her queenly fingers. "It is a gross perversion of pedagogy to wrap any cluster of young people in a space and tell them that their age makes them sheep.

"Do you understand me? Worse, only a flawed system would abandon the rest to failure based on their behavior. So, the first step..."

Jessica felt like the audience to some grand political speech. Vexing, but no adult had taken her seriously in a long time. Everyone had a bottom line, so she waited until the end, if for no other reason than to discover comes next.

"So, what do you want from me?" she said.

"The answer to a question."

Jessica shrugged.

The lady lifted her shriveled finger, revealing burn scars, and pointed at the Mesnomer. "Is that who you are?"

She had forgotten about the drug, yet instinctively clenched it against her shirt. "What's it matter?"

"It is a simple question. Will you answer, or can you not answer?"

"I..."

"Is it who you are or something someone else tells you to be?"

Drugs in her hand, painful memories, and the endless wish to step away from reality left her dreary in the eyes. "I need this," Jessica said hoarsely.

Closer steps, the white pants neared. "If you can look me in the eye with complete belief in that, then you go right ahead and take it."

Once again, Jessica eyed the Mesnomer. As it dropped from her hand, she felt stomach knots and the prelude to a headache. Wrapped in her own arms, she tried to hide the pain. "What the hell can I believe in?" she sobbed.

"Start with yourself," the lady pressed. "If you start there, life will be your looking glass!"

"Jessica snickered. "You can fuck off."

The lady stared disquietly at Jessica's rising glare. On the verge of a breakdown, the teenager's sanguine attention leered before she coughed words like vomit.

"What do you know of what I live with? You're like the automaton teachers who tell me to worry about my shit grades," she laughed. "But you're not as bad as my 'friends,' though, who shit all over my sense of style for—who the fuck cares! Their job is to worry about my rep, which makes adults look at me like I'm a fucking alien. Oh, wait..."

There was no hiding the hysterics. In attempting to lash back, Jessica's outcry slowly minced into delirious whimpering.

"I'm-done-giving-a-damn! Everyone, the moment I show a fraction of what I can do, they brush me off. Ah-and teachers get offended because of w-what? Because I calculate out of my head? My classmates, they're confused no matter what I do. Scared even! Everyone else is awkward around me, intimidated for something so stupid as my verbosity. Correction: 'Big words!' I can't use symbolic logic around other students... or even logic. Maybe one day, when I incorrectly apply the word literally, I can get them to like me.

"I am the black sheep whenever they see me and not what they want to see! The outcast because I-I-I can recite a lecture from memory. One mention of quantum algorithms, the world shouts 'hack!' What does a freshman need that for, rrright? When I'm not toted as a reject, I'm a circus act. If not a circus act, just a plain old fffreak! What's the point of me being me? What the hell is me? I never asked for me!"

The old woman's eyes never left, never winced, and never faltered. The young teenager was quivering, oblivious. And after choking on her last word, she fell to her knees, nails dug into her scalp.

"With everything you can do and teach this old hag," the woman said, "I have to imagine someone, somewhere, would be rooting for you. The world is not a frozen vacuum, sweetheart."

Jessica's tears drowned the color in her eyes. Fingers to her own head, they gunned for what lay inside. "Why couldn't I lose this instead of my parents?"

Clarity.

"What is your name?" the lady said.

"Jessica."

"Tell me your whole name."

She stared. "Jessica Teresa Leibniz."

"Jessica Teresa Leibniz. When I say that, what does it mean to you?"

"A lot of things."

"And what do you want it to mean?"

"A lot of things..."

"Are they the same?"

Upright and confused, Jessica looked at her watch. Creativity, uncertainty, that's all she thought up; they defined her. "My mom and dad," she started hesitantly. "I saw a glimpse of their hopes before I was blindsided. I might end up nothing. Right now, I don't really know. Don't know if I care."

"And yet," the woman smiled, "I think it you could mean the world one day."

Jessica rubbed her eyes and sighed cathartically. She stepped on the Mesnomer, glass cracking underfoot. "I'm sorry for being a bitch."

"You were exercising. Here," the elder started, turning with her Tacquizza bag, "how about you help me finish this while we talk more about Jessica Leibniz."

She dithered. "But I still have classes."

"I think you've had enough schooling for one day." The lady beckoned her forward, starting down the street.

Unable to argue, Jessica shrugged and accepted the old woman's offer by stomping next to her. She felt awkward, at first, but let curiosity speak on her behalf. "Are you a daughter of Abraham, miss?"

"Yes. And you may call me Beth. Bethany Sanders is my name."

Jessica pointed to the Tacquizza box. "What's special about this food that has you on the street?"

"Believe it or not, their tacos are kosher."

"Get out of here."

"I will stay here, Jessica."

"You can call me Jess. My friends—well, my Homegirl, she calls me Jess."

"And what is a home girl?"

"It's like a friend that's actually a friend: a girl you would let into your home. Maybe; I don't know."

"Does that make us home girls?" Beth enunciated.

Jessica snickered. "If it would fit."

"That's cool, Jess."

"So, is there a Mister Sanders?"

"There was a mister. Sanders is my maiden name."

"I see... I'm sorry?"

"As long as you're goal-oriented, Jess, the loss or lack of a mister will never be the end of you. Difficult, sure, but not the end. You will learn."

"Hindsight is 2020, I bet."

"It is just enough."

***

Better memories seemed impossible to live. Jessica had fallen hard into the most common misconception, that the past was the home of bliss. Anything else, everything else, was like falling. But she discovered that life's pitfalls were pauses—not stops—on the road to paradise. Carpe Diem.

Falling, falling, falling from the sky, the trick was in the landing.

Electricity pulsed across her body and opened her eyes. She was spiraling into New Sumer. The weightless rider with relentless imagination, embraced by the wind, grabbed hold of the board. She watched the city suburbs grow along with her blood pressure.

"Get ready!"

"Freefall nearing 340 feet!" cried Babel. "Ready to die now, Jess?"

The afternoon train now slid through New Sumer's eastern district. She shifted her weight appropriately, meticulously, to align with the rail. It had been a matter of calculating the interception to a tee. At approximately 100 meters from the ground, Jessica powered through the stress of the descent, and the gravity board fell underneath her feet.

"McFly!"

The deck magnetized, rail line directly underneath when the locomotive arrived. Her legs shook, hips swayed, and her arms flailed outward, but she quickly compensated for the slam of gravity. In the end, the deck aligned.

The landing was successful.

After powering past the whiplash, Jessica sped forward and hovered across the cars. As intended, the monorail expedited the trip and provided an unpaid fare to Pine Rim. The HUD's countdown constantly harassed. Nothing, however, absorbed the heat of adrenaline. With four minutes left, she believed she could make it. She had to. Her heart still pounded in her chest, the race against time tolling every bell of doubt. As the train swerved north, she launched off the rail and onto the streets, moving east.

Emergency vehicle sirens very quickly intercepted Jessica's glide around the street corners. This meant Goliath made use of her data.

Red highways, azure villages, then black and green hover cars. Of the entire fleet of vehicles, she was the literal first responder. She would rescue Beth. At the very least, they had to be evacuating Pine Rime Hovels by now. To be sure, she tried calling. Her watch established a line but received no response.

"Come on, Babel!"

Three minutes left.

Jessica broke around the corner, where the park came into view, then landed on the north-west building beside her destination. Down below lay the entrance to Pine Rim Hovels. An emergency vehicle had already arrived. White and nylon outfits raced out of a hovering truck, letters BDU on their uniforms. New Sumer's Bomb Disposal Unit. They raced into the building as if their protective gear weighed nothing, while several civilians ran past them. And from the truck, one official cried through the speaker. "Residents, please exit in a calm and orderly fashion!" Other law enforcement barely hit the brakes, with none to harbor curious spectators at a safe distance.

In a panic, Jessica quickly scanned the mob of people gathered at the edge of the park. Beth was nowhere to be found.

Two minutes left.

Either she was inside or out. The burden of the former punched Jessica's heart into hyperventilation.

"Jess!" The voice. The cool and elderly voice.

Jessica turned until the white smile suddenly did away with her despair. Beth stood on the roof of Pine Rim, waiting with a cane in hand. Of Course. She was predictive that way. "Beth! Stay on the roof, homegirl, I'm coming!"

The roof made sense. It made her easy to find in the event of an emergency. A spot where a vehicle could easily land—or a friend with a gravity board—and the old lady knew it.

With all the confidence in her eyes, Beth had to be the calmest person on the scene. The wrinkly bend of her warm smile carried on, like faith. Jessica hover toward the ledge when she was interrupted by fire.

A blaze followed rubble in all directions. Blindness and discord riled Jessica's fall, an explosion and muffled cries rattling her senses into blackness. The last thing she remembered, unholy destruction as a hellfire maw devoured Pine Rim Hovels and Beth along with it.

#   
Chapter 8 Blindsided

Jessica blew on the tassel of her cap three times.

I wish it would rain.

She noticed a crease on her red gown so tended to it. The same velvety textures subsumed the landscaped lawn of the outdoor stadium.

I wish I could crawl down a rabbit hole, where everything makes cents, make a bunch of illogical lessons with insanity as the cipher, then watch the sane people try to correct me.

On a bench full of senior students any and every which way, part of her envied how public schools killed Commencement ceremonies, overrated as they were. She daydreamed of a couch and twenty-first-century television on Retroflix, lamenting the lack of a skip option. Not only could she not fast-forward, but there was no popcorn.

Lethargically gazing, she found the girl who made fun of her stockings freshman year. There was the guy who hit on her sophomore year. There was the guy she caught staring thirty-nine times in Calculus. There was the girl whose periodic table jokes almost got her expelled. Everywhere, teenagers ready for freedom.

Contrary to what the Valedictorian was belching over the podium, it seemed clear that most students were excited to be out of this prison, not rejoicing in their academic achievements. Sentiments could definitely vary.

"I thought Jessica would have been Valedictorian; not that Azarean blowhard."

Her ears latched on to the sound of her name a few rows back.

"She's not even Salutatorian."

"Yea. Remember that time she took the average test score and rigged the program to give everyone the same score. "

"You don't know that it was her."

"Well, only she could do that."

"Shh..."

Looking back, literally, she attached the voice to a face and recognized the student. A dark-haired boy who'd dropped a gallon of weight since their first meeting. He was a curiosity, too, because she remembered his kindness and casual preambles to a friendly conversation, the way he smiled, made fun and did favors. Come to think of it, their relationship was border-line romantic before they suddenly stopped talking. Strange the way memory came and went. Many things were neglected after Freshman year.

Neglect, purposeful neglect, also explained why she never stood a chance at valedictorian. Not only did attention make her squeamish, but peer pressure bombarded her grades into straight C's. It drew suspicion when she suddenly earned an S in every subject, so she eventually settled for A's and B's.

Dusk had arrived.

"Jessica Teresa Leibniz."

Her name. Scotty! Beam me up! Do it, now! With no way around it, she walked up to the podium, wary of all the eyeballs. She shook hands with the principal who had considered her cause lost, took her piece of plastic, paused for a picture, forced her smile before the automated camera, and then passionately walked offstage.

"I would, hereby, like to congratulate the Graduating Class of 2127."

At last, Jessica moved her tassel to the left. A huge weight fell off her shoulders. She tossed the hat and tassel aside. If only she could navigate past the horde of family and friends now filtering into the oval field.

A clashing of the hugs followed, of which she was an innocent bystander. Familiar faces, unrecognizably happy, jumped for joy at their parents. Groups of friends who had survived the past five years through mutual uptake found the glory of group photos. Smiles all around. In her mind, the end of Commencement entailed little more and nothing less than a break.

Landlocked between concentrations of "Congratulations," Jessica breathed a long and somber sigh. "The same thing every time." Judging from the crowd size, there would be a wait before an escape attempt could be made.

Waiting...

Arms crossed, her sight fell to the low thread of her gown. Senses dulled, the enthusiastic cheering dilapidated into nothingness, followed by trembling hands and numbness. Maybe I should find my cap. "I mean, I only get one," she cracked. She brushed a tear and crouched on the ground. "I only get one."

She wiped her eyes lest someone catch her discomfort out in the open. It seemed inappropriate to let strangers see a grimace during—what should be—a celebration, so she looked for her cap and tempered the loneliness. No one would have to see her red face.

"NERRRRD!"

Bewilderment smacked Jessica's rosy cheek. She jumped upright, darting for the source of the voice. A dark hairdo in the vein of a mullet grabbed her attention, the blonde streaks over a tan face. Through the crowd, the black denim vest and black shirt passed with the words Androgynous Vision plastered in bright violet. Tight blue pants stepped to, carrying Valerie and the power of dimples.

"Were you crying?" Val said.

"No!" Jess remonstrated. "Caught something in my eye."

"It's called catching feelings!" The two leaned in and wrapped their arms around each other. "Congratulations, homegirl."

"Thanks, Val..."

In parting, Jessica beamed. "How'd you get here?" Delayed fireworks burst in the sky. Their loud, enrapturing spectacle drowned Valerie's reply, but the answer to her question appeared directly ahead.

Beth arrived, parting the red sea of velvet. Snug in a blue frock coat and white scarf, she waved happily as their eyes met. The old lady's smile could wrap anything in a bubble of warmth, inviting her closer when Shannon jumped from behind the coat.

"Girrrrrrrrrrl!" Beyond excited, Shannon held out arms of denim. Her serious sense of style beamed with her white smile, nylon stockings under her shorts that complimented green-glowing sneakers.

Jessica suddenly felt overdressed, which did not stop her from falling into Shannon's arms. She practically clinched the denim, overwhelmed.

Shannon gave a hearty "Congratulations," before parting to look up and down her robe. "Someone's a big girl now!"

Jessica wiped her eyes. "I'm something."

"Where's your cap?"

"Umm..."

"Here you go," said Valerie, tapping Jessica with a cap in her hand.

"Where'd you find it?"

"On someone's head."

Jess turned to Beth, who had been patiently doting over the three girls. Approaching, someone else might have mistaken Jessica's expression for sadness. Her red gown swayed with the weight of ever-present potential, a sight that made Beth grin. And before saying anything else, the teenager threw her arms around her, burying into the warm coat.

"Thank you."

Beth received her embrace with every filial fiber. "I wasn't going to miss Jess's graduation!" she declared, "and sure wasn't going to risk letting them come without a ride." Beth pointed to Valerie and Shannon. "They were considering walking, you know?" Jessica dragged her heavy gaze from Beth to her friends, who made funny faces. "We talked on the way over here, and I had time to think. I've never known everything, but I can't help but think that your parents would be proud of you this day. Don't you think?"

"I hope so," said Jessica, unwrapping her arms. Solemnity and fulfillment intermingled within her heart and danced to the beat. The sensation rocked her into a place where happiness lived. She breathed it in, letting her eyes rise to the night sky in wonderment of where Stephanie and Gerald Leibniz rested, whether or not they had a window into this little space under the stars.

Feeling worlds better, she rotated within her friends' suspenseful stares and started, "So what now?"

"We should go somewhere and celebrate!" said Valerie. "Duh!"

"Where are we going?"

"That's totally up to you," said Shannon. "It's also kinda up to Beth since she's driving."

"She's, like, the one friend in the group who has a license and a car," Valerie commented, then turned to Beth, "but you're a lot cooler than that, know what I'm sayin'?"

Jessica anxiously turned to her OG homegirl, wondering what answer lay behind the grin on her face. And Beth shrugged.

"It is totally up to Jess."

So, Jessica pressed the tip of her finger on her chin to think long and hard. Bulging eyes and a white smile meant she'd made up her mind. "It has to be a place with dessert. I want..."

"A pulse!"

Shapeless noise simmered over the heat of her face. Wails, cries, heaviness, they racked her imagination.

"Stabilized!"

"How many more?"

A slit of vision. Nothing but blurs and lambency. As if dragged from a dream, her mind stopped midway on the path to consciousness. She caught muffled noises along the way, followed by muscle sensation; they felt heavy. Her own heartbeat rumbled with the noise, too, and pumped heavier breaths. Chaos then rebounded across her thoughts, while bright flashes absorbed everything else. She desperately wanted to move. Determination fueled the twitch in her finger, while the bleep of the heart rate monitors kicked in.

Her body jerked forward. Jessica pierced the veil of reality, eyes wide. Held back by straps, nothing stopped the dismantled floodgate of emotions. Desperation made her twist and turn, exacerbated by the heat and bindings. But then she peered beyond the sanctuary, to see flames. The interior of a paramedic van housed her from the plea-ridden world. She was stuck, tattered clothes chafing against elastic bands.

Finally, a forlorn figured stepped inside, an exhausted man's dust-covered face peering over her condition. He was a white suit, top to bottom, bathed by a black layer of soot. The mere sight of him only gnawed at her anxiety.

"I have to get out of here!" she stammered.

"You're in shock!" he coughed.

Jessica pushed against the straps. "You can at least undo these! How the fuck will these keep me calm?"

Hesitantly, the EMT pressed underneath, and the straps zipped back into place. Jessica sprang forth outside, against the man's protest. What she saw, however, compelled her to a swift halt.

"Where is the complex?"

Nothing but debris, flame, and smoke remained in place of Pine Rim Hovels. Everywhere, within a pale cloud of dust and despair, paramedics attended the injured within a vehicle-barricaded perimeter. Yellow jackets and smoke-proof visors inspected inside and outside the rubble. Law enforcement officials patrolled a rail that demarked the area and extended into the nearby park, where more emergency teams gathered. Plenty of people, dead or otherwise, but there was no building.

Crying victims. The injured, lamenting faces of men, women, and children saturated the park. Blanketed stretchers of dangling hands rolled away, and a ghostly half-sun illuminated the remnants of dusk. Gothic rays impaled the smoke over New Sumer's eastern cracks and crags as carved by the destruction. If Jessica looked at her fingers, she would have noticed them twitch.

"No..." One step forward, toward the remnants. "No..." She shook her head in disbelief. The pavement became wet with her tears, a trail of them forming with every step.

"Hey!" The firemen tried to intercept her. Jessica ran for the debris. Quickly, more and more shadows chased after her. "Stop that woman!" Security caught wind of and raced to protect her from the ruins, where firemen scanned the radiation levels.

Sprinting, sprinting towards the embers, she evaded until one officer grabbed her by the wrist and tackled her to the ground.

"Beth!" she cried hysterically. "Bethany!"

More bodies crowded her to calm the madness in her lunges.

"She's not dead! I have to carry her out! She's not dead!"

A prompt medical screening derived no serious injury, so Jessica returned home the very same night. She wouldn't leave, at first. Beth's remains were somewhere; they had to be. The cleanup crew was coy, however, and offered nothing until they came upon the necklace, the six-sided star.

Under the dark sky, only the sound of her feet brought company. Hers was a slow, remorseful walk down and down the village avenues, head low in the cast shadow. Plenty of white orbs to guide her path home, which retreated in the silence of solitude. No other soul stirred on the path home, a path long-winding. The gravity board had never felt so useless.

She mumbled recitations nearly every step of the way. Beyond the yards and terraces, she repeated them. Past the closed doors to cafes and restaurants, she cemented them. At the storefront where big, lightless letters spelled Tacquizza, she shouted them.

"What is the point?"

Crickets...

The moment she entered her apartment, she took off her dirty uniform and fell on the sheets.

Sleep was impossible.

***

"We awake to a city in mourning, as federal officials comb through what remains of..."

"Dozens of innocent lives lost in what authorities are calling..."

"What is undoubtedly the most calculated terror attack in recent memory..."

Dismal looks filled Goliath's floors the next morning. TNN, ARB, ANA, PCS – Just about every watermark signed the luminescent grid of employee terminals. The tragedy played everywhere, from television to social media. Engineers wept silently as they listened to the anchors and reporters rehash Pine Rime Hovels, an event "clouding New Sumer in tragedy."

Nearly every other listed target was unscorched. Asgard units deployed fast enough to evacuate civilians. Investigations revealed zero explosives at most locations. Already, speculation was in the air concerning the "why" and "how," but most news coverages focused on the identities of the lost. The headlines varied slightly.

What 'fake' news sites the Azarean hierarchy failed to shut down pointed fingers at different groups, while social media blamed the disaster on either lax security or conspiracy. Public opinion, however—reinforced by mainstream news reports—chose to believe the terror was prejudice-driven. They accepted that the organization known as Sub Terra was real, that xenophobia had armed a portion of Earth's population against the Azarean-controlled Union. An attack on Eden, a city of the Union, implied hate as a motive, even if the victims were humans. So long as friction survived between cultures, terrorism had met its goal, so claimed the government and media.

David kept silent beside the memo board. He had forgotten his hat, and the exposed furrow in his brow steered dejectedly towards every workstation. His tired eyes and their dark rings watched the holo-recording, in front of which some employees had gathered. The sight stung in places he preferred docile at work.

"Stop that!" he stammered. His outburst startled everyone, so they shut off the news and returned to work. The room's tension permeated as he let out a deep sigh, rubbing his head for an imaginary headache that crept close.

"Everyone," he began apologetically, "eyes up..."

Curious, confused, scared, and somber eyes fell from every corner of the room. Shaking his head and crossing his arms, he failed to consider his next words. Nevertheless, something for the long day ahead felt warranted.

"Everyone tried their best. And the reason some of you might feel it wasn't enough is because it wasn't..." Defeat and guilt interlinked the employees' faces. "But nobody should feel guilty! Not for working toward the right thing, and not for evil perpetrated by some cowards behind a camera! We were blindsided. End of. If someone needs to take a day off, I understand. Me, I still see the value in getting things done, because no terrorist is going to shit on my routine.

"Sorry..."

The director was unsure how his speech would affect the downcast workforce, but he did notice more chins up. None of them seemed ready to leave.

Following the bustle of feet to seats and busy keyboards, a looming figure stepped right beside David.

"Clever and collected conveyance on your part, director."

Over his shoulder, he saw Malvis. The Azarean, by default, was a presence that did not need to be present. Therefore, resentment stirred in his belly. "Morning, Malvis," he said mechanically.

"Did you inquire after our employee of interest?"

"I forgot. Judging by the outcome, I don't imagine they'd care. Do you watch the news, Malvis?"

"I keep informed; I assure you."

David rubbed his chin at the alien. "You weren't lying when you said Asgard was fast. They may have been lucky, however, since they reached the buildings that harbored no explosives."

"Yes, the outer city was unfortunate. I can already promise that such an outrage shall not be left unrequited by my superiors. An attack on but one Eden constitutes a war against my kind, even if casualties manifest nothing more than humans. This militant group, Sub Terra, shall be routed to its foundations."

David suddenly remembered why Malvis was so easy to loathe and loathed him more. "You know, Malvis, let me at least apologize to you."

"For what, in particular?"

"For the Azareans who got caught in the blast."

Malvis deadpanned.

"I heard the Bomb Disposal Unit was at Pine Rime when it happened. An Azarean uniform, correct?"

"That is correct, director."

"Does the Union have a plan to rid New Sumer of these monsters, these cowards who hide behind a camera? Now that they're out in the open, something's gotta be done."

"They will gauge every plausible endeavor." With that, Malvis sauntered off. "And, director, inquire after our mystery savior in the memo."

"Of course," he sighed, then muttered under his breath. "Persistent."

Malvis waited for the elevator, staring straightly and blankly at the double doors. When they opened, his gait was perfect, almost. Perfectly upright, he waited until for the doors to shut. Once alone, his unstable hands prevailed in weaving discomfort throughout his entire body. It worsened as he took off his glasses and faced the floor. He clenched his scalp, compressed his breath, and out of his coat pocket retrieved a tin case. Plucking a thin syrette, he Inhaled through his nostrils and rolled up his sleeve for a quick injection. One last, slow breath and he opened his eyes.

The trembling stopped. He tucked the tin case away and delicately unfurled his sleeve. Staring at the elevator doors, upright and hands folded behind his back, he was perfectly calm.

Bots similar to recycle bots swept Apple Mire Suites. The grey eggs scanned along the hallways in a sweep that lasted over an hour. Despite their giving the all-clear signal to residents, some apartment vigilantes were still paranoid. Depending on their choice of news station, some would stay paranoid. Therefore, across corridors, residents took it upon themselves to patrol and shout, "Report suspicious activity!"

Inside room 59, however, Only Jessica's desktop gave any kind of hum. A standout voice reported yesterday's events, live, with a remorseful tone. Listening to him talk about Pine Rim Hovels was like wading through mud in the rain, but she liked the man's earnestness. She listened, beside the door, huddled in her corner opposite the holo-screen, face buried in her knees. She hadn't bothered to change out of sleepwear, despite noon.

"This is more than a list of names..."

Patiently, she awaited his recitation of the victims' names. He went so far as to add epithets.

"Jeromy Terence Leone was an afterschool technician who had arrived two years ago to help his mother...

"Dolores Bunham Alowitz was a sitter who, at the time, was looking after a friend's German Shepard...

"Karl Huam Yunis was a driving instructor for the DSV whose friends said he would bring flowers for all the clerks...

"Bethany B. Sanders was a retired firefighter whose long years of service awarded her The Medal of Courage, The Medal of Gallantry, Service Recognition Medal, and Distinguished Service Cross; those who remember her said, 'Beth's defining trait was that she never placed herself further than second'..."

In the pause that followed, the reporter surrendered a moment to suppress his impending emotional breakdown. His choked cough hit the microphone before he continued. "Ingrid G. Nguyen developed—"

A ring dialed over the broadcast. The call appeared on the monitor and Jessica lifted her head. It was Shannon's whimsical face, possibly the one person who could hope to lift her spirits. She did not answer.

Hitherto, Jessica lived in a pit of lethargy. Two days since she nearly died, the solitude slowly festered into pessimistic thoughts.

"I'll kill myself if I stay here."

After a deep sigh, she decided to change clothes.

***

David took a break from his computer to peer through the office window. The seventh floor's employees went on as normal, diligent and undisturbed. Sunlight hit the lotus vase on his desk. Their petals, something about the yellow tinge distracted him. Then he paid closer attention; curiously, the flower reminded him of a fist.

Eventually, he abandoned his seat to stretch his legs, but the moment he opened the door and beheld the cadre of busybodies, restlessness returned. Instead, he paced around the room, intently watching his staff's collaborations, then peered at the memo board.

He walked over to the terminal with half-eaten tacos. "Azeem," he beckoned.

The engineer looked up, startled—swallowed, cleared his throat—and darted his eyes. "Yes, mister director?"

"Director. Do me a favor and pull up the caches from two days ago."

"Of course!" Azeem's monitor conjured a stream of files.

"Now, I want you to find the outbound signals."

"Are we looking for something specific?"

"I need to know who transmitted the coordinates during the attack."

"Uh, Okay." After several commands and clicks, Azeem replied, "These are the terminals that received the triangulation, and then... Hmm?"

"What is it?"

"That's your address, sir. The outbound signal came from your terminal."

"What?" David nosed into the screen. "That makes no sense."

"Am I being tested?" Azeem started defensively. "Did I do something wrong, boss? I can fix it!"

"I'm confused, too."

"Then what is going on, sir?"

The director stood pensively. Before he could ruminate on a single question, a mechanical voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Care to explain?"

He found Malvis over his shoulder. "Did you teleport here, somehow?"

"Director," Malvis started seriously, "can you explain the peculiar case lain before us?"

"Not right now," he said. "But neither can you because you were standing next to me during the chaos."

Malvis straightened his lenses and nonchalantly brushed past David. He began pacing back and forth at a sloth's pace, hands folded behind his back as he scanned the room and its employees. Like a detective surveying a crime scene.

Without a word, the alien ignited his holo-brace and vegan inputting characters.

"What are you doing?" said David, but he was ignored.

When he returned, upright, Malvis whispered, "We must consult the security records."

In a dark room with a grid of holo-panels for a wall, David and Malvis split their attention across a compilation of camera footage presided over by a security officer at a half-ring desk. His eyes looked like a pair of binoculars, thanks to a wired headset. The guard in grey reset every playback to the second New Sumer's countdown started. 04.07.29.12.21.46 and onward.

David shrunk at the sight of his own room in the footage. "It's empty."

"Clearly," replied Malvis, transfixed. Every other screen depicted employees in a panicked crunch. No one noticed the engineer who passed out at the back of the room.

"Pause," exclaimed Malvis. "Rewind three seconds." He sauntered closer then pointed to the upper left, at the precipice of the fifth-floor stairs, indicating a hat, colorful suit, and a face that steered away from the camera. Obviously, a woman. In another feed, the stranger's full body was visible, identity still elusive. "This is a variable stranger."

David stared dubiously. "Where was the timer countdown?"

The security guard motioned to the memo board. "13:27," he said.

"Resume playback," said Malvis.

"Where'd she go?" said David.

Malvis stared at the images, stiff and silent. "There." The woman's figure was inconspicuously inching into the director's room.

David's jaw dropped. "That is an employee hat."

"Not an employee uniform."

The director peered at the memo board once more. "Less than twelve minutes." The unknown woman sat in his office, working his computer with a custom drive. Within another playback panel, hands shot upward. It was at that moment the girl became a statue. "What is she doing?" David muttered. She removed the flash drive before hurriedly stepping out of the office, unnoticed.

"Stop playback," exclaimed Malvis. "Magnify."

Closer, the female's face fell on the fringe of being identified. Malvis examined her stoically. "I have made contact with this human female."

David eyed his tall superior. "Yeah... Who is she?"

"I hoped you might enlighten us."

"I wouldn't know, hence my question."

As soon as he heard the distant ding of the elevator, Malvis stepped out of the security room. David slogged after him, startled when he saw two armed guards now present on the floor. No run-of-the-mill security but Asgard, the black Azarean uniform.

"What's going on?"

Malvis stopped mid-stride and turned, removing his glasses. His were scarlet, with the characteristic Azarean glow. "David Mourner, you are under arrest for conspiring in domestic terrorism."

"How am I—" An Azarean accosted him with iron cuffs. Without orders, Malvis' enforcer then pinned him to the ground. The entire room, a room of oblivious clerks and security stripes, gawked while the director bitterly tussled with his restraints. "I didn't do anything!"

Malvis kneeled beside a helpless David, angling a callous gaze until they met eyes. "You attested to a backdoor before the terrorist breach, director."

"And recommended an immediate fix!"

"Very few parties were privy to the information of a potential breach, yet SK-3 was, evidently, compromised. The web of our system would not allow that happenstance overnight. Aware of its fault before anyone else, I believe you mined the discovery and transmitted the finds to your Resistance compatriots: Sub Terra."

"You have no evidence of that!"

"And then there is our third-party... Who is Lynx, former director?"

"I don't know!"

"What is the identity of the woman who infiltrated your branch?"

"I don't know that, either!"

Malvis leaned closer. "Then you shall be interned until Goliath extracts everything you do know. Asgard, meanwhile, shall keep the peace and seek out the resistance. Whatever you withhold shall work against you in the undertaking. The end begins with the details we have acquired thus far." He stood up, canted his head left then right, and let the guards heave David from the ground. To everyone else's surprise, David chuckled at his predicament, so he drew attention to the peculiar grin on his face. "Do you find something amusing?"

"I find something hilarious!" David scoffed. "SK-3 was supposed to be your new benchmark. You were hacked, and an infraction on your part doesn't even compute in that long skull!"

After a wave of the hand, Asgard departed with David's spiteful canines in tow. Malvis steered his red eyes over the nervous workforce before him.

"New directive!" he bellowed. "Within the next hour, I shall require all pertinent information on the following fast-food franchise...

***

Jessica sat knees bent, head leveled to the mismatched shoes tipping her jeans. She doted on the necklace folded delicately under her fingers. The silver star was all that remained, all she had of Beth. She could only stare and coat its glimmer in her memories.

Eventually, she turned from the star to the sun above, scanning its sidereal sequence. Wherever the great fire in the sky rested, it seemed unchangeable. Concrete evidence of inevitability. Can you ever be manipulated? she thought. From the top of yet another roof, her eyes fell from that sun and onto the remnants of Pine Rim Hovels.

An inflated dome encompassed the ruin, everything but the charred pine trees of the neighboring park, the tragedy's memento. Cement would eventually erase everything else.

Her fingers instinctively went to her collar, remembering what the EMT said: she would have been concussed or worse if the airbag didn't break her fall. The memory of the shockwave burned viscerally enough to make her shutter. None of it mattered.

She stood up and grabbed one last glance of the dome and park, fastened her goggles, then abruptly stiffened.

"Hmm?"

Dirt on the lenses. She flipped the strap and rubbed the lens on her shirt. "Babel Vision on." Nothing happened. Sighing, she ran her fingers along the top rim, to note that Babel was inert. "What happened to you?" Fingers on the screen, she held until yellow numbers blinked.

"Babel, Safe Mode reboot." Almost immediately, the watch returned the correct time of day. "Why were you off, to begin with?"

".17 seconds before I disconnected, I detected a discharge," Babel replied.

"That was rhetorical—a discharge?" She casually rotated 360 degrees, checking the deserted vicinity. "Babel Vision on." The goggle's HUD illuminated, and flashing in the upper left corner was the timer countdown: 1:35. "Why would the HUD freeze if they didn't break? Babel..." Her legs bent into a pretzel. "There was still time left. The explosion went off early. Why?"

"A manual detonation?" Babel posited.

"I beat them to it. The timer was there to create chaos." She caressed her chin and peered at the sky. "So, the bomb had a micro EMP. EMP. EMP. Why would the bomber need an electromagnetic pulse? Since when do terrorists set the stage to erase the spectacle?"

"A fire's purpose is not solely destruction."

"It was a distraction." Madness. Jessica clawed her scalp for answers. "Anyone determined to make rubble has something to bury. If hiding something is more important than getting a point across, the point is not the answer." Everything that happened before and after New Sumer's 30 minutes of terror vividly played back in her memory. "What was the real purpose of it all?"

Babel reran an audio portion of the broadcast. "Citizens of the deceitful sovereign, this is your equal speaking."

"That makes no damn sense, you terrorist, lying sack of shit."

"Are you speaking to me or..."

"Why the fuck would there be a countdown in the first place? Why not just blow everything up? The resistance had to exploit Goliath's faulty encryption, but no one outside Goliath knew about the holes, except for me and David... apparently."

Her mind dug deeper.

"You transmitted a signal through seven locations as a failsafe. The others were there to hide a single detonator, but how would a bomb like that slip through city surveillance if it's all connected?"

A random memory suddenly jumped to the forefront of her thoughts. Something Valerie said two days ago, 'All I know is that hacks have been messing with mobile navigation.'

CrownSoft.

The thought hit her like a ton of bricks. "CrownSoft controls mobile apps; you take that, you take New Sumer, theoretically. Tell people where to go, cameras where to scan, etc, etc. But if you want to erase every trace of a hack, there's hardly a clean getaway. So how do you stay safe, this day and age? EMP... Pine Rim just happened to be the epicenter of region-wide cyberspace infiltration." She started to tremble back and forth.

"No! No! She didn't die just cuz of some shitty coincidence. I refuse to believe that! No!"

Babel's voice was soft. "CrownSoft utilized the SK-3 program. If not, there'd have to be a mole inside of Goliath, the syllogism suggests.

"It's not adding up!" Reaching into her memory, she extracted images of frantic bystanders and the Bomb Disposal Unit."Was there only one target the whole time? What was the bigger scheme?

"Were you involved, David? Did I help you do this?"

She tossed the goggles aside, inflamed by the lack of answers. Not since high school had she felt so inadequate. The sensation suffocated her breath into a snivel. Relaxing her grip on the necklace, she sentimentally peered over Beth's keepsake again.

"I will find out why this happened," she said.

As she stood up and stared at the western horizon, the silver star gleamed under the sunlight and burned into the center of her red vest.

"McFly!"

Swerving from high place to high place, past the sign of Archaea District, Jessica gauged the functionality of her gravity board. It worked fine, despite the EMP blast, another clue.

"Advanced technology was involved but wasn't strong enough to pierce Faraday Cages, which means the person—or people—responsible were worried about collateral damage." She recalled the rubble, the dome, the state around Pin Rim.

"Controlled explosions are no characteristic of terrorism. They're not relying so much on havoc. There's no clear message, but somebody involved was definitely nearby. If only there was a record. Assuming the data wasn't fed back and deleted inside Goliath, there's no way of knowing without getting inside."

Jessica counted hypotheticals in her head before the evening caught up with her. A new moon tallied the shadows of the next few terraces, company for the solitary ride home.

Some people still knew how to embrace the night, those who sat among the many rooftop lawns. Patios illuminated by white, hovering lights shimmered green against the violet sky. In many ways, strolling through the evening suburbs, one might suspect Pine Rim never happened—was never there. Like the animation of the recycle bots, humans carried on robotically in separate spheres, neither livelier than the other.

At the very least, the fresh air had done wonders. Jessica entered her apartment, the desire to wallow gone. Questions still harangued her mind, but she leaned on them as a distraction. In the realm of problem-solving, she was adept at getting lost until answers came.

A sudden knock on the door steered her out of mental wandering, however. She glanced back, at flashbacks of a redhead. "Who?" she inquired through the door.

"It's me," said a familiar voice.

As soon as the door slid open, Jessica saw Valerie sweating intensely on the other side. Her friend clung to the wall, darting a desperate look. Only one plea escaped her breath.

"I need your help!"

#

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# Chapter 9 Resistance and "Resistance"

Valerie paced back and forth across the room.

Jessica stared from her chair. Her friend's fits were typically on display whenever she failed to nab AV tickets, but something seemed off tonight. Valerie's attire – The only thing skin-tight article was her black shirt. Homegirl dressed much like herself, pocketed vest and everything. Even the forehead goggles were new, blue covert-style lenses.

Jessica was in a belittling mood. "What did you do, or what did you miss out on?"

"Uhhh, I don't even know where to start, homegirl."

"You said you needed me."

"That's only because I'm in a bind, Jess."

"Okay then, what constitutes a 'bind' in your dictionary?"

Valerie breathed in then out.

In.

Out.

"I'm with the resistance."

Jessica's finger twitched. Anger ruptured her bowels, rising further into her throat. Hot with unease, her analytical eyes leered in blind resentment. Rage stiffened her joints until she quivered. Her hands wrapped into fists, and the heat of her heart targeted Valerie, who still seemed lost in thought.

With stomps and fumbling force, she wrapped Valerie's neck and slammed her against the wall. The girl's eyes bulged from surprise, pain, and wonder. Jessica's words blew into her ears.

"Either you're joking and have a fucked-up sense of humor, or you're sleeping with murderers! Do you know what's going on?"

Val struggled to breathe, slave to unrecognizable rage on a familiar face. Choked by hand, her friend's red eyes choked by remorse, all she could do was cackle and latch onto the wrist.

A knock on the door. Jessica loosened her grip, at which point Valerie kicked her leg then backhanded her chin. That didn't stop Jess from rushing again. Valerie evaded, coupling the maneuver with an upward knee to the stomach.

Jess hit the floor, and all she could do was moan on the ground. Valerie solemnly crouched beside her.

"I need you to calm down, Jess."

"Why?" she moaned.

The door to the apartment opened from the other side. Valerie aimed a Baretta pistol with a rail weight attachment. The arrival, clad in black, was Shannon.

She blinked and threw her arms up into the air. Her arms lowered, however, when Valerie's face illuminated.

"What are you doing?"

Val spoke slowly. "I can explain."

Jessica's hand sprung and caught the gun barrel, so Shannon charged. In the ensuing struggle, Shannon took the barrel between her fingers, while Jess pulled Valerie's other arm away. Splitting her strength, Valerie could do nothing as Shannon stepped between them.

Eventually, Shannon tugged the gun out of Valerie's stubborn fingers then pushed her onto the bed. Likewise, due to her friend's constant jostling, she shoved Jessica onto the spinning chair. The woman's insurmountable speed and strength were not enough to dissuade Valerie, who seethed, "That's mine!"

Shannon toted the gun overhead when Valerie threw a fist. She parried and blocked an incoming kick with her leg. Their feud ended the moment Valerie was pistol-whipped on the side of her face. "Ow..."

"I'll do it hard next time! "Shannon growled before turning to Jessica.

The two were set on opposite sides now, Jess on the chair and Val on the bed sadly rubbing herself. A moment to breathe, at last, Shannon tucked the pistol in her back waistline. "So, what the shit is going on?"

Val swallowed. "I need to explain something about the day before yesterday!"

"It was all over the news!" Jessica snapped. "Everybody saw—heard what the crackpot said on a live broadcast! Explain it! Go on. Tell me alllll about the resistance."

"Please, calm the fuck down!"

"Hold on!" interrupted Shannon. "Hold on. Hold on. Hold on." She caressed her brow deliberately. "Go back. Whyyy are we talking about the resistance? And why were you"—turning to Valerie—"attacking her?" She pointed at Jessica.

"Oh, she didn't tell you?" Jessica snarled. "Because she just told me she's with some underground sadists."

Shannon zoomed to Val. "Get the fuck out—"

Valerie stood up. "I'm no terrorist, but I can't really talk—"

"Who are you protecting?" Jessica leaned forward in her chair. "You know Beth is gone because of them?"

Valerie froze.

"I heard her name on the news, baby girl," Shannon shakenly replied. "I'm sorry."

On the other side of her, Val buried her face in her hands and sniffled.

"Why is she crying?" Jessica sneered.

"Beth is dead," Valerie sniffed. "I didn't know. It wasn't who you think."

"Is that what you came to tell me?"

Valerie reached into her pocket and revealed a white chip. Twice, she spun it in her hands like a piece of jewelry then cautiously approached. "Here," she said. "The answers might be in there."

Red suspicion colored Jessica's cheeks as she turned from Valerie to the drive. At that moment, she considered the secrets filling the gap between them. Finding answers, it seemed, would start here. Throwing Valerie one last leer, she sighed. "Tap the switch for me, Shannon?"

Shannon complied, and the room's furniture began shifting. Valerie distanced herself from the folding bed, Shannon stepped closer to Jessica, and all three of them watched and waited as the RWBY poster appeared with its color palette. It accentuated the sleek desktop hitherto hidden from view.

"Babel on!"

They watched as the nine holo-panels blinked their neon blue borders.

"Good evening, Lynx."

Jess rolled into key range.

"Who the hell is Lynx?" said Shannon.

The holo-panels illuminated a lynx cat, inviting more confusion. Not until the flash drive was installed did they focus as one. "This better not be some damn malware," muttered Jessica. Black folders appeared on the center screen, each with a label that had the girls scratching their heads. "You've got a circus of encryption here. I hope you have a key."

Valerie presented a note.

"Okay then." Jessica found a message written in pencil. "That's über retro."

Shannon eyed Valerie. "What are these supposed to be?"

"Answers to a lot of things," Valerie said confidently.

"And who do those answers belong to?"

"Shh!" Jess waded through files. Each panel held a separate set of unlocked folders full of plain text, video, audio, and more with each finger swipe: "Titan Ops, AEF, ASGARD, Black Well, Spearhead, Goliath..." Her volume upscaled with every name she read. "You've got corporate experiments, federal projects, and all this data no one even knows exists! How in the mountain of madness did you—"

"Go to Black Well!" said Valerie.

Click. "And what are we looking for?"

"Anything related to July 4th, this year."

Jessica's brow shot up when she saw the hope between her friend's parted lips. To fulfill the request, she returned to the interface. Another sealed file eventually scattered a list of dates, including the date and time of Pine Rim's destruction. There was much more, however. "These are individually encrypted," she said. Access denied.

"Is there something you can do about that?" Valerie implored.

"Your key doesn't work."

"There has to be something you can do!"

"And what do you hope to find?"

"An explanation! Something that explains Pine Rime! Anything!"

"You need a backdoor or a circumvention tool, which takes time. We're not going to see this tonight. Whatever it is."

Valerie expelled a loud sigh, moaned, held her head and nailed her scalp. But by the end, it was Shannon who lost patience.

"Are you gonna tell us where you got this?" she barked. "I mean, you have her" —pointing at Jessica — "throwing her brain against the wall and haven't even bothered to explain where this came from or why you want it. Forreal? You're not exactly bolstering our trust right now."

Disarmed by the callout, Valerie dragged her glossy gaze over the wall. She was bitter silent until her lips tired from quivering. Somberly, she faced her friends. "It was taken from Goliath HQ. Don't ask me how."

Jessica shot upright in her chair. "Is that a fact?"

"That's all I can say for sure. It went through a lot of channels before it came to me. The fact that it did means something went wrong in the process."

"SK-3." Jessica weaved through her keyboard, manipulating pop-up after pop-up on the screen. "From what I know about Goliath's programming logic—wait a minute!" She gawked at Valerie as her fingers typed away. "You're absolutely sure Goliath's behind this?"

"The only thing I can say, for sure, is they're involved, jeffa."

Shannon leaned over Jessica's shoulder. "Yo, you actually plan on hacking those files?"

"In a sense," she replied.

"How the heck you gonna do that?"

A deep breath. "I don't want to bore you with the det—I do cryptanalysis for them as a freelancer. Not official. Off the books. Actually, don't ever repeat what I just said."

Shannon was speechless for the next few seconds. Wary, rolling her eyes in the attempt to process everything, she snapped.

"Y'all need to get your shit together and stop these secrets! Okay? What else are you hiding, hmm? You a secret agent, too? And how 'bout chu?" She glared at Valerie. "Is Valerie your real name or a fucken code name?"

"Maybe that's classified," whispered Val.

"Don't be short with me!"

Valerie gritted her teeth. "I'm not that short."

"Encrypted audio, dot, MP3," Jessica mumbled under the background noise. Indelible concentration sated her restlessness. Therapeutic problem-solving always barred everything else from her stream of thought, and she didn't have to remember the present to function as normal—her level of normal. Such deep concentration drew her friends' attention.

Valerie had seen Jessica like this before, executing code, scribbling alphanumerics, or breathing life into hardware. But that excited look on her face, like a witch over a cauldron, meant she was on the path to answers. Shannon noticed it, too, the intense focus and control, a level of focus she wasn't sure she could match despite countless hours meditating. Jessica's friends keenly observed and waited for the end result, clueless as to the meaning of the onscreen characters, numb to their own excitement.

"Unlocked!" the nerd nearly screamed. "I like to break without breaking. As the boobed droid with brain matter, this was manageable."

Valerie leaned closer. "So, what's inside?"

"I have to admit, I'm curious as hell," added Shannon.

Energy, sobriety, somberness; Jessica's expression fell three levels. "Could this really be related to Pine Rim and Beth?" She mulled over the screen, specifically on a bare audio file ready to commence playback.

"You'll finally get to know," egged Valerie. "We'll know."

The sound of ringing broke the moment, anticipation interrupted by a call and the hologram of a woman's profile.

"That's Eva," said Jessica. "My boss. It has to be because I've missed work."

"Can't you take it later?" said Valerie.

"She doesn't call this late..."

"Pick it up or don't, Jess," said Shannon.

Hesitantly, Jessica accepted the call.

"Buonasera!" Eva yelled. "Sto cercando il dolce Jes!"

"Hey, Eva..."

"Ehi, I have not seen chetah and wondered if she was okay!'

"Yea, I should have called in my sick days. My coughing and blueberry paleness wouldn't have worked for the customers, but I should've told you."

"You're always pale!"

Silent as could be, Valerie and Shannon listened and shot awkward stares, fretting. Somehow, the call transformed into a frivolous conversation having nothing to do with work, before Eva suddenly questioned, "Are you home right now?"

Jessica scowled at her two friends, who shrugged, then coolly answered, "Yea, Eva, I'm home."

"Bene! Because you should be resting if you are sick. See you tomorrow night!"

"Okay, Eva. Have a good night."

"Byeee!"

Back against the mesh, she caressed her chin meditatively. "That was weird."

"What?" Valerie shrugged. "What's weird about it?"

"I always start work in the morning, and she's never there at night."

"That is weird," said Shannon, tilting her head. "But where were we?"

Jessica's watch vibrated, further pricking Valerie's patience. Nonetheless, Jessica checked the message, noting the Ghost Wire tag. It proved to be nothing more and nothing less than a warning: You don't have much time. Leave.

"I'm copying all the chip's information.

Neither Valerie nor Shannon understood Jessica's newfound urgency. Disturbed, they observed her dominance of the keyboard with R2-D2 jammed in the port. File after file transferred from the tower to the flash drive.

"Jessica, what's wrong?" exclaimed Valerie.

"A hunch," she said. "Variables."

"Variables?" Shannon repeated. "What? What did you read just now?"

"Format unrecognized," Babel interrupted. Heeding his voice, all three girls turned to the monitors. A white box on the center panel displayed the failure to initialize a download. Hence, the loading sequence froze at zero. The freeze startled Valerie and Shannon but injected Jessica with a newfound curiosity.

"Babel, display file script," she said.

The computer displayed new images across the nine panels. They were cryptic, orange, and parsed in sequences of nine in never-ending black. They looked like simple dashes and lines, except with a curvature like no character on a keyboard. "Like binary," Jessica whispered to her clueless friends. "That," she exclaimed, sitting upright, "I think that's Azarean code. Maybe their own programming language. It's their binary, for lack of a better term. Wicked..."

"Como su idioma?" asked Valerie.

"Yea. So why is this file among the rest? All the crazy stuff we could learn, but we would need an Azarean processor or to translate it..."

Valerie whimpered. "But you can't even download it."

"Babel, screenshot the entire script and download everything in JPG format. Label it Trinity." A bleep confirmed her command. Snapshot after snapshot of orange code sorted through the holo-panels, copying into the removable drive. "Still copying."

"How long?" said Shannon.

"Not too long." However, she had not forgotten the audio file. Finger on the cusp of the panel, she made eye contact with Valerie then Shannon. Enveloped by anticipation, she tapped.

A conversation commenced:

"Let me remind you, thespian, precision is key in every step of the operation. A margin of error shall leave us vulnerable. The slightest detail overlooked and your mistakes shall be redressed. Are my words clear?"

"'I am the epitome of precision, good agent. I'm no inept dog, like the people outside. I'm still loyal, and this job hits two birds with one stone. Plan, guide, command as you like, a mistake will not fall on the execution but the planning. I take my work very seriously."

"Then you understand the layout?"

"My people know the streets, sure. They'll stay hidden and meet every request. So long as your applications keep people away, as long as the citywide blackout occurs as you promised, every player will be in place before Judgement Day. And then the show will begin."

"Remember discretion. Surveillance shall not be an issue. Simply ensure your followers secure the parcels."

"Then it all hinges on the final show on the fourth. You've chosen the right man. I promise. I can deliver the entire message from memory, even now."

Jess, Val, and Shannon hooked onto every word of the playback, disquietly piecing the evidence together. The same two voices carried on, back and forth, both familiar.

The first voice resonated in Jessica's memory, his identity on the tip of her tongue. She listened intently as the playback continued:

"Not necessary."

Throat clearing. The voice suddenly changed its American accent. "Citizens of the deceitful sovereign—"

"I said, it is not necessary."

The accent brought the memories back, alongside a flood of emotions. They listened to the so-called face of Sub Terra.

"Guess you were serious about no curtain call. Do you distrust your own security or..."?

"All security is proofed by layers. Now, I must see to a dilemma. Be ready."

"Hail the—!"

The playback ended.

"I knew it!" stammered Valerie. "Fucken knew it!" Her hand fell on Jessica's shoulder. "That's no resistance! That's some conspiracy bullshit! Sub Terra's not involved."

"This is unreal!" Shannon said, quivering.

But Jessica dwelled on the other voice. Stoic and uptight as it was, the face floated somewhere in the data stream of her thoughts. And why did the other man sound like a kiss-ass artist?

"That's proof though, right?" said Valerie. "Someone else has gotta see who the murderers are!"

Jessica was too busy toggling her pair of goggles. Then her mouth fell. "That's him!" she exclaimed, and disquietly thrust the specs into Valerie's grip.

Curiously, receptively, Valerie strapped the goggles and saw what her friend saw. "Who's the alien?"

"That's the other speaker," said Jess, finalizing the pieces.

"Really?" Valerie felt a tap on her shoulder. Underneath the lenses, Shannon's eyes glistened under the monitors. The same sadness surrounded Jessica.

"I am sorry," she moaned. "I'm sorry for staking the blame on you, Val."

"There is no blame, homegirl." Valerie approached and patted Jessica on the back. Jessica spun, stood up, and held her in a sisterly embrace.

Shannon coughed back a whimper. "You guys are getting too wound up."

Valerie waved Shannon over, and the three of them latched onto one another.

"I'm going to miss her," said Jessica.

Valerie scrunched. "Me too."

"She won't be forgotten, though," said Shannon.

Jessica tightened her hold on the necklace. "No, she won't..."

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# Chapter 10 Under Eden

The keen tingle on Jessica's wrist brought a message: Tic Toc, a reminder that grappled her out of Valerie and Shannon's arms and back to her computer. Her friends curiously observed the screen, as all the files and screenshots downloaded.

"Can I have my gun back, Shannon?" said Valerie.

"When you're older," she replied.

Jessica removed the drive. "Wipe everything, Babel! Belay that, actually. Wipe everything but leave a care package, yea?"

"Very well. We shall continue this in the next domain, Lynx." The room went dark, and the green flash from Jessica's watch served as the curtain to her geek space.

Valerie's pupils expanded. "What are you doing, Jess?"

"Leaving," she said. She grabbed several belongings from the desktop, retrieved a tablet off the shelve and placed an alternative set of clothes and necessities in her backpack.

"You really just wipe your computer clean?" Shannon said apprehensively.

"Yep."

"Man, you should run for office or something."

Jessica froze at the sound of thuds just outside and signaled her friends to do the same. Ear against the wall, she listened to boots, quietly fetching her gravity board then bringing up the outside camera. The footsteps, it seemed, belonged to a black uniform passing the frame.

"That a police officer?" Valerie whispered.

"He's not local security," Jessica said. Several seconds after the black figure passed, she opened the door. "Come on! "Crouching, the three of them quietly crept outside, desperate to reach the elevator.

Shannon couldn't help but look back, however. The black figure was an Azarean, which was rare in a human building.

Jessica zeroed in on the elevator, while Valerie's sweat left a trail. None of them anticipated the second Azarean who suddenly loomed beside the elevator. Mere seconds after he entered their view, his reflective visor steered in their direction. He took a wide stance.

"Civilians, stop!"

A montage of options threw Jessica into a quantic dream. She could do something, anything, or she could surrender. Petrified limbs clamped her fate when the rear Azarean began storming across the corridor. Quicker, however, Valerie drew her pistol and fired.

The officer by the elevator drew his weapon, though not fast enough since Shannon had literally jumped over Jessica to reach him. Thanks to the tugging match that followed, Jessica had time to slip on her glove and lunge. The tall officer diverted enough attention to kick her into the ground. Adrenaline dampened the pain, but she was helpless and out of breath as the guard wrenched the weapon barrel away from Shannon.

Instead of firing, he hit the ground in a seizure. A mild tilt of her neck, Jess discovered smoke fume out of Valerie's pistol. Both Azareans were on the floor.

Her over her face, lungs on the cusp of hyperventilation, Jessica settled on deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

"Come on!" Shannon offered a hand. Instead of wallowing, Jess grabbed hold. Valerie stepped near when Shannon freaked. "Are they dead?"

"Nope," Homegirl said, holstering the pistol. "I just stunned the hell out of 'em."

"You saved me." Jessica blinked. "But we're wasting time."

The elevator doors beckoned. And as they entered, elevator music discarded some of the tension.

"Now, we're running from the police?" Shannon spat. "Why? Why are they after you? Who are we supposed to take this information to, if not the law? I feel like I just jumped into an action movie. I can't even right now."

"We're taking the info to someone who won't burn it," said Valerie. "If one space elf is party to Pine Rim, then assume they all are. It sucks, I know. Los hijos de putas."

Jessica tongued her cheek. "That leaves limited options, doesn't it? First, it was my boss calling and acting weird, then it was the random warning I got. I have an idea who's sending me these messages, but I can't say why. But all the variables, factored together, solve for X."

The elevator dinged. "First floor."

"You seem so damn sure," said Shannon, almost spitefully.

"When I was at Goliath, I saw an Azarean, and he saw me," Jessica told her. "The ones here are no coincidence. Pine Rim, random warnings, alien security in my apartment. One, two, three coincidences; One out of fifty chance to the power of three means 0.000008 chance of everything that's happened happening at once. And I just pulled that number out of the Phantom Zone. If it weren't for Val, this wouldn't add up. But, no matter how heinous, it does, and. I can't stay here." Jessica then strapped her goggles.

Valerie whispered beside her ear, "Is it clear?"

"Looks clear."

"But where are we going?" said Shannon.

"Away from here!" Jessica exclaimed with finality. She casually led them towards the front entrance but stopped by the scanner. "Hold on."

"What are you—"

Interrupted by electricity and flying sparks, Valerie and Shannon flinched. And uncovering their eyes, they saw Jessica bathe in the smoke, a fried scanner beside. With a smirk, she motioned them forward.

"I'm sure there was a reason for that," said Shannon, bug-eyed.

"We don't need a record of our escape." Jessica skipped past the exit. "Obviously—Stop! "Blue and red lights reflected across the pavement, so Jessica instinctively glued herself to the wall, scanning, via goggles, past the corner concrete.

Two security cars and a hoverbike were parked just outside the complex. Despite three vehicles, there was only one officer, which meant the rest were inside Apple Mire or on patrol. Either way, the last thing Jessica wanted was public attention.

Every weird circumstance, hitherto, had confirmed her suspicions. Someone was after her. Valerie being a fugitive, too, attached all sorts of unknown quantities.

"This way," said Jess, leading them around the complex and away from the patrol. "Better hope no one sees us. We're officially making '2129 another year testament to the success of Earth-Azarean relations'."

Outside Apple Mire Suites, everything passed in a surreal frame. Jess had become an adept runner, long ago, but turned frigid at every thought of being chased. Escaping New Sumer, the basic idea, had yet to register; it weakened her steps into the darker street corners. She had more hopes than people she could trust. Just like how they reached Eva, Goliath could reach anyone and everyone. She was lucky, though. Eva played the hero through a subtle warning. Another friend who kept her safe. By now there was a list of them, and it included the girls at her back.

"I'm confused," Shannon started again, after several minutes of stealth. Like her friends, she was nearly out of breath. "If they're after us, or you and Valerie, then why didn't they just break into your room? That seems obvious; doesn't it?"

Eyes to the street, Jessica pointed at one of the nearby nightlights. "Val," she panted. "Shoot that, will you?" Punctually, Homegirl took out her weapon and fired. It triggered sparks then complete darkness.

Through the blind spot, Jessica hopped to the nearby manhole. "Come on," she said, waving her friends over.

"Shit, she's serious," said Shannon.

They hustled under the shades, between terraces and invisible to prying eyes. Together, with heavy groans, they removed the manhole cover. Jessica would go in first.

Valerie clung to the latter as Shannon began squirming. "Can't believe we're going underground."

"You gotta get used to getting dirty, Shannon," Valerie remarked. "So dirty. You just gotta dig into the dirt, in the darkest recesses of sludge and dig deeper still until it's all over you, and you learn to love it. Then, you will be immune."

"I swear, you better be talking about sewers."

Once they were all nestled in the nook of the damp sewer corridor, Jessica returned to Shannon's earlier question. "I think they did knock on my door. Suite thirteen."

Shannon's brow furrowed. "Thirteen?"

"The only people who know about my real suite are you guys... and Beth."

"How did you get away with having a fake room?" said Val.

"It's there. It's not fake; there's just nothing in it."

"So, you own two rooms?" said Shannon.

"I do own two rooms. Did..."

"Tacquizza money gets you all that?"

"No, it just buys the coffee. While knowing mathematics, computers, and cryptography definitely pays better, Tacquizza is better for the soul. Can't say the same about the heart."

"I wondered where all that genius was going."

"Yep, she's still a fucking nerd," said Valerie.

"So then, yea," Shannon said soberly. "We're being chased now. By a corporation with unlimited resources, no less..."

With a moment to break, the three girls let their heads low at the flow of recycled water. The ambient drip and drop rubbed their recollection of events, and their fear, but they shared that fear. Fear was quickly overpowered by the bad smell.

"Hey!" Valerie jumped, pointing to her goggles. "I know where we can go."

"What kind of place could you have in mind?" said Jessica.

"That's what I want to know," Shannon added.

Valerie grinned. "You may or may not like it—I don't think we have a choice—but just remember what I said...." She lowered her voice, resorting to a raspy whisper. "I know how we can get off the grid."

Shannon's confusion and Jessica's skepticism came through in their squints.

"Let me warn you," Jessica slurred "that Goliath, if they're after us, has a sea of resources: cyberspace, transportation, complete access to Eden, media; and, as you saw, they can stage a terrorist attack. These are the people you evaluate when you suggest getting us 'off the grid.' That said, I don't have a better idea."

"You're going to have to trust me, Jess."

Jessica's reluctance fell under Valerie's smirk. She owed a debt for assuming the worst after years of friendship. "Okay. Okay."

Val cocked an eye at Shannon. "What about you, Xiao Long?"

Shannon looked up from somber meditation. "Any chance we can stop by my parents' place?"

"Not a good idea."

"Agreed." Jess warily eyed her friend. "I'm sorry, Shannon."

They could guess whenever Shannon's shell of optimism unraveled. Any moment of silence in which her eyes glistened, as they did now, held a diary. "Damn."

"Now that I think about it, you don't have to come with us!"

"That's true!" said Valerie, snapping her finger. "No one's after you, Shannon, so you don't have to worry."

"Yes, I do!" she snapped. "Cameras in Jess's apartment would've seen us!

"Those cameras don't work," Jessica snickered.

"Say what?"

"I made sure they never work. Only the scanner would have caught us leaving. But I fried it, remember?"

"You've got answers for everything!" Shannon fell into light tears and giggles, rubbing her own arms. "But I can't leave because—to leave you guys now, just as shit's hitting the fan—that would be like turning your back on family. And the things we know, it's too much. There's no way I'm leaving."

"No one's stopping you," said Valerie. "I'm not stopping you. I just hope you're on notice, chica. I really do. Cuz you're about to be going out of Eden!"

"I'm just as ready as you are, Valerie."

"Alright then." Valerie straightened upright, in anticipation of Jessica's next call. "You ready, jefa?"

Jessica chortled bitter-sweetly. Out of habit, her hands and eyes lowered to everything on her person: gravity board, backpack, goggles, and she checked her front pocket for the drive. Everything was where it needed to be. The last keepsake rested around her neck, laced between her fingers.

"Take me out of this place, Homegirl."

Intermission

Tension. Writhing tension filled the space between the four of them. Jessica looked to Valerie, Valerie looked to Shannon, Shannon looked to Beth, and Beth looked to Jessica, their faces illuminated by a dim ceiling lamp in the center of the room. The drive of war lessened their usual amelioration towards one another, replacing it with competitive fuel. But who would move against who next? This was the question pricking their anxiety, elevating every additional ounce of animosity to be mustered. The next cascade of events would be determined by Beth.

Jessica leered in all directions, debating which of her so-called friends would be next to betray her. Caressing the red tie of her school uniform, she pondered, considered, then wrapped the slim cloth around her hands in anticipation of punching someone. Her eyes glared left.

There was Valerie, with the nerve to grin after all she had done in such a short period. With her black mascara, dark eyes flashing the fires of Hell's ninth ring, her hands rested ponderously on her denim pants, occasionally moving to fix the laces of her leather corset. That Jo Jett style hair was hiding sinister intent deep inside the Mexican brain.

But then her gaze zoomed across to Shannon, a girl who wanted to prove something... with those pink yoga pants and that slim t-shirt. If her brain was prone to as much fitness as her body, she would easily make a worthy opponent. Combined with a perfect poker face, it was a deadly combination. Jessica would, nevertheless, have to wait and see.

Beth. She could tell when Beth was trying to fool someone. All she had to do was act old. Sure, she was old, but she never acted old. So, when her old friend grinned and said, "I fancy myself a noob in this scenario," she knew right away that the old woman was sputtering bullshit of the highest degree. Catching her, on the other hand, that was a different task. The old lady was trying to be cute by wearing the RWBY t-shirt she bought her months back, a sentimental attempt to bring Jessica's guard down – The shirt emblazoned the 'Ice Queen's' silhouette below the old lady's wrinkly grin. Appropriate, considering the act was ice cold.

Between and equidistant to them, on the rosewood table of four chairs, lay a holographic display of Chinese Checkers. Madness. Pure madness.

Marbles were scattered across the board. Valerie had the least amount of marbles in play, but Jessica looked to Shannon's lines that were scattered in two different directions, while Beth's and her own pieces rested on the verge of crossing each other. The old lady could attack Shannon, a move that would grant Valerie the upper hand over at least one person. Since Jessica had the most pieces, she would settle for her losing a few. Suddenly, to the rush of everyone's blood circulation, Beth began her move.

It was swift; it was precise; it was ruthless. In one maneuver, her marbles dispatched piece after piece from all three sides. No one understood why or how such a coordinated attack could happen. But Jessica knew. She knew all along. It's why she arranged her pieces to cushion the extent of destruction to her side.

"Hija de puta!" exclaimed Valerie, on the verge of flipping the table.

"Hey! Hey!" calmed Shannon. "It's just a game!" —turning to Beth—"You done fucked up, though."

Beth reservedly withdrew, lifting her hands in guilty surrender. "It seems I have taken you two by surprise. Although it's all in good fun, I did not mean to upset you with my playstyle. Beginner's luck, I guess." Then, when her gaze drifted to Jessica, she noticed the school girl leering at her with competitive animosity. "Something wrong, Jess?"

But Jessica's eyes shot her with eyes like to a scorned cat, squinting at the old woman's smile. "I see right through you," she said sourly. "I'm coming at you like Rohan at Pelennor, old lady!"

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me!"

Beth covered her mouth with a lasting giggle, her endearing grin quickly returning. "Sounds like someone's ready for the smackdown."

Both Shannon and Valerie's mouths burst wide open, and their eyes beamed in surprise. Valerie stood from her chair. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Sinister granny just revealed herself!" she exclaimed.

"She was playing us the whole time!" Shannon shouted. "The whole time!"

"You two were fools!" Jessica remarked. "Fools! I never fell for it. I see the dagger in that smile and say screw you, MacBeth! No me estás engañando, vieja! You're up against Kirk now, Khan!"

Several minutes passed as the four of them strived to overtake one another. Row after parallel row of marbles intersected and reigned havoc. It quickly became a close game, with stress levels peaking near the end. Jessica saw how Beth kept peeking at her, gauging her expression, searching for weaknesses.

Valerie performed a move that left Shannon glaring with bitter surprise. "I am aware of the fact that we met recently," Shannon formally stated, "but maybe we're at the point where I can smack you."

"I understand where you're coming from," Valerie cordially replied. "I welcome it. I don't always get to slap an ass in yoga pants."

Shannon's lips slipped into a wolfish grin. "Come at me, baby, I'm gonna enjoy this!"

"It is not good sportsmanship to talk in such ways!" interjected Beth. "If you really want to prove a point, you have to sit down, engage your rival respectfully, and utterly humiliate them." Again, Beth met eyes with Jessica, and Jessica leered, pointing two fingers from her eyes to Beth's.

After many "Oh's" and "Ah's," Valerie eventually succumbed and surrendered to Jessica's marbles. Springing from her seat, she griped in frustration, "Grr! You guys are messed up!"

"Learn from your mistakes, Padawan," said Jessica. "Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate means you need to git gud."

"Bang! Bang!" blew Shannon.

"Whatever, mmkay? I'm not even tripping right now." Valerie walked around the table and stopped by Beth's countertop, where a box of Tacquizza pizza rested. After helping herself to a slice, she sauntered back to the table, wondering who would lose next.

"You may want to go easy on the pizza, dear," Beth remarked disconcertedly. "Pizza is for winners."

"Bang! Bang!" blew Shannon.

And a few moves later, Shannon suffered from the combined onslaught of Beth and Jessica. "You know what?" she started, shaking her head, "I ain't even mad. I wasn't the first to go."

"Keep acting like you're not dead inside," Valerie said from the counter. "If it makes you feel better."

"You still eating pizza?"

"No!" Valerie put the slice back in the box.

"Everything she eats goes to one place, anyway!" said Jessica.

Shannon snickered, staring at Valerie's chest. "You'd think so."

After a prolonged exchange of leers, Jessica and Beth resumed their one-on-one match.

"Your move," said Jessica.

"Very well," the old lady replied.

Jess watched Beth's every maneuver like a hawk, every cock of the eye, every stroke of the fingers, every change of face. She was a worthy rival who proved adept at masking intent.

"Your move," Beth said.

Jessica gauged the field of scattered marbles, contemplating the old lady's strategy. Not much time passed before she deduced a plan of attack. After analyzing the pattern, she reacted with meticulous moves, inception to an attack Beth could not expect.

Shannon and Valerie witnessed brutal execution. Beth watched helplessly as the field slowly cleared, Jessica erasing her units in combat encounters across the hexagram. "Mother of David!" she cried.

And after all was said and done, Jessica laid her last marble, the teenaged admiral felt indomitable in stating, "All your base are belong to us, old lady!"

Silence. Dropped jaws. Everyone reared their eyes. Valerie stared at Jessica, Jessica looked at Shannon, Shannon stared at Beth, and Beth disbelievingly stared at Jessica. "You sunk my battleship!" she remarked. Quickly, however, her smile returned. Its genuine warmth made Jessica smile back. They stared, riling into giggles that signed off on their match.

Jessica shot up from her seat. "Bam, losers! Take a side of sorrow with your pizza!"

"Hey!" Shannon protested, "You've got an unfair advantage with that freaky brain of yours, girl! You're always three moves ahead!"

"Yea, you nerd!" Valerie jeered. "And congratulations on beating an old lady!"

"I'm sorry, what?" said Jessica, holding out her ear. "I'm not fluent in the language of loser!"

"I take it back, Valerie," said Shannon, "Jess is the girl I need to smack!"

"No one's smacking anyone, Shannon!" exclaimed Beth. "As you have just witnessed, she's already laid the smackdown. Best thing is to accept and move on."

"Fine! Your wise words have not fallen on deaf ears, Beth Sensei. But now that I got the hang of this, I might—" Shannon stopped mid-sentence to observe Jessica making L signs with her fingers, two dancing hands spelling out Loser right in front of her face. But she maintained her cool and breathed in. "Master taught me self-control. I can get through this."

"And my mother taught me chingasos!" rejoined Valerie. She vaulted over the table and grabbed Jessica in a headlock.

"My hair!"

"Are you thinking about your life decisions, now?"

"I regret nothing!" She struggled to break free from Valerie's smooth arm, but could not avoid the pulverizing scent of strawberry perfume. Fortunately, Valerie didn't have the tightest grip. They were simply making a scene at this point.

"Yo, this ain't your home!" said Shannon. "Quit the malarkey!"

Valerie winced. "This girl just say malarkey?"

Then Jessica broke free, standing upright, straightening her skirt, and breathing in. "Truce. Sorry about that, Beth."

"It's cool," Beth said from the comfort of her seat. "I was young once. Time passed before I learned how to lose with grace."

Shannon laughed.

"Ouch, granny!" said Valerie. "I felt that."

"As long you as you remember when you're having fun, and keep having fun. That's worth everything, and why I enjoy having the three of you visit... Funny thing about age, it fast-forwards your sense of time. Everything just breezes by. Flashes of what was real, that's what memory is, the unreal returning in variation."

Beth had transitioned into full-blown speech mode, laying her scarred fingers on the table. Neither Valerie, Shannon, nor Jessica minded. In fact, they all sat back down.

"Regrets only come with mistakes, and mistakes only reach you with time. If one is inevitable, so are the rest. I have plenty of my own mistakes, but I have literally stepped into the fire and stepped back out. Think of the fire as the present; you're not thinking about what came before; you're facing down what's in front of you and whatever comes next, whether or not your shaking, bruised, or uncertain. In those moments, I had no guarantees or thoughts of what would come next. Here I am." Beth stared at each of the girls' faces, their thoughtful sobriety. "I am lucky," she said, wizened blue eyes falling on Jessica's. "The only way you hack life is by living presently."

Beth amicably walked the girls outside of Pine Rime Hovels. Kids were still playing in the nearby park. Under the evening moon, Valerie and Shannon waved their affectionate goodbyes, electing to take the tram together. Jessica's destination, however, lay a shorter distance away and in the opposite direction. She was about ready to leave when Beth started.

"When did you get that?" She pointed at the Gravity Board under Jessica's arm.

"I made it!" she said proudly. "Well, after I got my hands on the right parts!"

"That's amazing! How did you go about that?"

"Got a job. Bet you'll never guess where!"

Beth smiled. "You going to make me guess? It was new for her, seeing Jessica out of her shell. A senior in high school now who had come a long way. It was worth seeing through.

"You probably won't have to pay for tacos and pizza anymore," Jessica mused, rocking left and right.

Beth laughed. "Does that mean you'll be standing at my door with a different uniform?"

"Probability: one-hundred percent!"

"So, I guess you don't have to worry about transportation anymore?"

"Not one bit!"

"To a university?"

Jessica's chin lazily stooped over her shoulder. "Thinking about it..."

"You don't even know if you're attending..." said Beth, staring concernedly. "There it is! When your eyes widen like so, they're so much like a lynx cat."

"Lynx, huh?"

"So, what are your plans, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Interesting offers have come my way. I still have time to consider them, but I may go solo after finishing school. Do you happen to know much about Goliath?"

"I know how King David defeated him with just a rock and sling."

"Hahaha! We'll see things work out. You don't have to worry, Beth."

"No, I don't."

"Alright," Jessica crowed, "I'll see you again, soon. Take care."

"You, too. Aufweirdesehen, homegirl."

"McFly!" Jessica hopped on the gravity board, swiveling as if still unused to the motion.

"I get the reference," Beth snickered.

"Teehee."

Jessica put on her goggles before delivering a final, energetic salute. Headphones on, she kicked away from the descending sun, and Beth watched her slow disappearance around the pines.

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# Chapter 11 Pets for Memes

Pristine stars adorned a noir sky.

One Azarean guard stood oblivious to the beauty above, upright, astute, and stiff in scanning the blackness of night. Back and forth, he purposefully walked along the roads of suburbia. Down the sidewalk, between luminescent lamps and down midnight greens, he continued toward nothing out of the ordinary. As a result, his attention relaxed until he dared to surrender to peace. He looked at the moon.

Perhaps, he sought to remove his helmet, and behold unadulterated space, to contemplate life as it may have survived on his home planet. Then Jessica touched and shocked the hell out of him through the voltage in her glove, so toppled his motor functions and made him shake like a fish out of water. His face became intimately acquainted with the ground as the seizure continued. Eventually, he would stop moving altogether, settling into a sleep's calm.

"And that's how you make men quake in their boots," said Jessica. "Hehehe."

"You know what?" started Valerie, caressing her forehead in shame. "It's literally too late to be cracking one-liners."

"Stop misusing the word literally."

"I'm not dealing with kids, right now!" exclaimed Shannon. "I'm just not. Get your shit together before I lose mine." She turned to Valerie. "Now Val, where is this place?"

"I'll know it when I see it. Come on," she said, waving them along.

They found scarcely a shape in the dark realm of suburbia, except for the late-night liquor store that had come to define humanity's nocturnal habits. The indoor bulbs of a 711 solicited their thirst in passing. The midnight run had invited sweat, sore legs, and dry tongues.

"Why don't you hack one of those cameras, Jess?" Shannon panted. "That way we don't have to die of thirst before we die of conspiracy, know what I mean?"

"McFly!" Jessica jumped on her board to alleviate the spent energy of her legs. "Pfft! Who's tired? For a girl who knows karate, you need to work more on your cardio."

"Oh, haha, it's mixed martial arts. Need a lesson? Let me borrow the board."

Jessica replied with a stone face and an L sign on her forehead. Before either could throw another sassy remark, Valerie turned North on the street, giving Shannon the vain hope of a break at the store, but they proceeded at a relentless pace.

Tablet in hand, Jessica used her technical skills to erase any trace of their excursion, via recorded snippets. She fed a single-second thumbnail back into every cross-walk camera. As she did so, Valerie scanned the streets for law enforcement. Together, they skimmed security patrols, alien or otherwise.

***

Up ahead, Valerie had reprised her role as navigator, following the map of her mind to their destination. "Whatever you do, don't look back," she told them.

"Shannon," called Jessica, holding back a chuckle. "Did you actually know what the hell those guys were saying?"

"I was guessing," she said with a smile. "Not that hard, though. You should know this, but every derivative of cool is just a derivative of black culture whether or not they actually pull it off. You just gotta navigate and wade through the intonations of dialect, no matter how much it sounds like nonsense. Descriptivism is a double-edged sword."

"Well, I dig it!"

"Don't say that!"

"Sorry."

"I'm kidding."

They stopped under the glow of a corner street lamp, vibrant like angels in the dark. "Ay, we're close," said Valerie. She pointed at a shabby, worn-down building across the street, and, after double-checking every direction, led them to the other side.

Jessica darted her gaze at the bright, overhead sign. Pets for Memes it read, accompanied by a graphic of a basket full of furry animals. On the cusp of the entrance, she paused.

"Wait a minute, is this really the place?"

"Yes, it is," Valerie assured, putting her hand on the old-fashioned doorknob.

"Are you cereal?"

But Shannon interceded. "Okay, Valerie. Explain. What does a pet store have to do with anything?"

"You will see," she said, beaming, then entered. Jessica and Shannon watched her swagger down the shelves of pet food and other things no one thinks to buy before entering a pet shop. Another woman was inside, an employee judging by the apron and paw prints. She swept the floors, seemingly oblivious to Val and everything else. Shannon furrowed her brow at the wooden pole in her grasp.

"I've seen that before. What is that?"

"Seriously, Shannon?" Jessica scoffed. Thoroughly aggravated, she grabbed the doorknob and glared. "That's a broom. You use it to play Quidditch."

Shannon followed her inside. "Well, soooorry I wasn't into Lord of the Rings."

Within the conspicuous, vintage pet store, signs of architectural decay prevailed under the sporadic lights. Like straight out of a horror movie. It's amazing. First, Jessica stepped carefully between two shelves with plastic containers; visible kibbles and the occasional bit, then stranger jars, bags, and other receptacles made her nervous.

Further in, she found a transparent screen. When she saw the other side, she pushed her face against the glass. The loud slam attracted her friends.

"Jess!" Shannon stammered, jumping to her side

Valerie was walking to the counter when it happened. She doubled back, to find her best friend's sanguine cheeks and irradiated eyes.

Weak in the knees, Jess held the window. Together, they stared at a box of sleeping kittens. Gray fur, white fur, tuxedo, mackerel tabby, and orange all huddled together in a warm, snuggled bundle of sleep, and Jessica couldn't stop staring.

"Seriously Jess, you need to get a grip," said Valerie, glued to the screen. "Now's not the time for this."

"I've never had a cat," bemoaned Jessica. "It's unfair. It's really unfair."

"I had a cat once," Shannon mused. "Called him Simba because he was awesome."

Valerie was the first to demagnetize, returning to the counter. It was at that moment Shannon took out her phone. When Jessica noticed, her pupils further dilated, and she slapped the mobile device out of Shannon's hand, which in turn slapped a scowl across Shannon's face.

"Why'd you do that?" she barked.

"No records of us being here!" Jessica said. "That gets into the cloud, we're freaken screwed. Comprende? As a matter of fact, get the battery out. Take out that battery!"

"Alright! That's my bad."

Jessica held Shannon's head between her hands and stared deep into her nervous brown eyes. "Do. You. Understand?"

"Stop being weird."

"Good. Now, Shann, don't forget why we're here. I'm sorry you got caught up in this. Really. Homegirl said something from this place will help us..." Jessica winced over at the strange woman sweeping near the entrance, then proceeded to whisper. "And I have no idea what's coming, but it's life or death at this point, and I owe Val. So, go see what she's up to."

Shannon's cornea flipped. "I'm not gonna leave so you can stay and stare at the kittens."

"Why not?"

Over and behind the counter sat a man in brown khakis, a blue polo, a black trench coat and a hat with the store name written. Next to him, on the counter, lay a cage of white rats. When Jessica approached, she found Valerie staring directly at him. He kept his head down, face blocked by the hat's bill, and repeatedly cracked peanuts in his palm. In an ongoing pattern, he tossed the pieces into the rat cage.

"Place is about to close," he said gruffly.

"I'm looking for black cats and voodoo dolls," Valerie told him.

The man's head rose, reveling another person who wore sunglasses indoors. He slowly removed them, unveiling dark blue eyes, and leaned forward in his chair. "I feel a premonition."

"They have an aviary for bats here!" Jessica said. "Mice!"

"'She'll make you live her crazy life,'" Valerie continued slowly, "'but she'll take away your pain like a bullet to your brain.'"

"Wuw, who are we talking about?" said Shannon.

"Upside inside out?" rejoined the man.

"'She's living the vida loca'," Valerie answered.

He grinned. "It has been a while. Come on; I have what you need in the back." The strange man opened the red door behind the counter. Since it was too dark, Jessica and her friends lost sight of him.

Valerie glanced back at her friends and waved them over. Cautiously, she walked around the counter. Cautiously, her friends followed.

As expected, nobody could see a thing, so Jessica strapped her goggles. Night vision pinged the clerk and Valerie next to each other. The clerk was crouching beside a trap door—what looked like one, anyway. When he opened it, a harmless beam of light struck the ceiling. Now, Jessica really pondered Valerie's aim.

"You finally going to explain what we're doing here, Val?"

Valerie crouched as the man stood up, her grin illuminated by the white light from underneath, a grin that contrasted sinisterly against the darkness. "After you?" she said.

"What?"

"Quickly," the man said.

"You heard him," added Valerie. No more waiting, she jumped into the light pit, compelling Jessica and Shannon to race over. Unfortunately, the pit looked bottomless.

"Quick."

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Jessica sighed, folding her arms. And in she jumped.

Instead of an abyss, she was surprised—disappointed almost—by the endpoint. Her impact was cushioned by something soft. Something gelatinous. Beneath her gluteus, she found a pink bubble. Everywhere else, strange machinery cranked. And on the floor in front of her stood Valerie.

"You might want to move," she said.

With her friend's help, Jessica quickly hopped off the platform. From below., the substance looked like flan, a pink ball of flan resting on a base of trash like a snow globe. "What is that?" she asked.

"Jellified acid," said Valerie. "If you touch, it's like instant sunburn. Makes your skin peel."

Jessica frantically scanned her hands and fingers.

"Haha. I'm just messing with you. I don't know what the hell it is. Never been here before."

Shannon dropped and landed on the same bubble. "Wooow!" she yelped. "The hell is this?"

"It melted my skin off," said Jessica.

Shannon wiped the sticky layer all over her clothes and closely examined her hands, while Jessica turned a furrowed brow to Valerie. "Why bring us here if you've never been here, Homegirl?"

Shannon nodded at Jessica's question.

Returning apprehensively, Valerie answered, "Want to know what I actually do for a living? Fine! I'm a spy courier, mmkay? I get messages to safe drops. The people I work for, Sub Terra, I hope they don't kill us when we find them. I really do. I'm just one of many secret peeps helping the cells communicate. And for my own good, I never know the message. This time, though, the other cell went dark. When I had no one else to go to, I came to you."

Jessica tapped her chin in deliberation.

"The public doesn't even know what we are," Valerie added. "They only know what the Azareans tell them, and Azareans scapegoat us at every turn, Jess, 'cause they want us gone. But even if we were gone, they'd do what they did with Pine Rim all over again.

"We been trying to find out what happens to our people who get shipped off Earth, why entire regions of the world are off-limits, and what is in our food – Things nobody bothers to ask!" Valerie placed her hands on Jessica's shoulders. "What is in the tacos, Jess?"

Jessica hooked an arm around Valerie, brought her lips near the girl's ear, and whispered. "Freshly diced pork, beef, and chicken marinated in salt and sweet pineapple. The tortillas are handmade corn and frequently served with a side of fresh avocado." She took a few steps back.

"Is that it?" Valerie winced.

"And Goliath moonlights for the secretive military organization known as Asgard. They pose as a private security force, but they have a say in corporate matters. Goliath uses its finances to manufacture and research experimental weaponry in Antarctica via a subsidiary known as Spearhead. I was in the process of discovering their black sites before, well, you know the story thus far. It's a crappy one."

Valerie beamed at Jessica. "What you just told me, you should tell that to Sub Terra."

"This is a little heavy," said Shannon, inhaling. "No, this is very heavy. To sum up, you're taking us to the people you work for. And they're shady. Are you taking us to a rebel base?"

Jessica almost shouted a reference but coughed it back in. Clearing her throat, she calmly turned to Valerie. "You know what, let's just go."

Smirking, Valerie turned and started them down the one-way corridor of steel walls and humming machinery. Just a network of valves and pipes. Where the corridor ended lay a metal door. Valerie gripped the handle, revealing platform cleaner and more modern than the rest of their surroundings.

"One-way ticket," she said.

"'Hang tight and survive,'" Jessica sighed. "'Everybody does it.'"

"Insert movie reference here," added Shannon.

This time, Jessica was first into the cramped space. Shannon and Valerie followed.

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# Chapter 12 Sub Terra

Above and behind, ingrained metal vines decorated the walls. They encapsulated all but the blurry glass in front. The three girls may as well have hidden in a refrigerator, cold and insulated as they were, perhaps even immune to nuclear fallout?

Jess had enough faith in Valerie to forget fear, yet enough uncertainty to feel anxious. How would the human resistance greet her? The question hit her over the head, again and again.

Answers came when the darkness opened, like a flap, to signs of civilization. Below them, on the other side of the glass, lay a concrete field surrounded by the rock of an underground cavern. The artificial and natural features encompassed an industrial underworld, one both alien and earthly. Several aircraft stationed below caught Jessica's fascination, a series of parked jets the likes of which she only discovered in fiction and, more recently, footage. Within the crisscross alignment of aluminum flew the sparks of welding tools. But the biggest feature was a two-legged metal beast.

"Now, how did they get a Gundam in here?" Jessica said studiously.

"Is this a freaken hangar?" said Shannon.

Jess and Val said "Yes" in unison. A mild resonance vibrated beneath their feet, as the elevator touched down. Between them, only Valerie's face kept its color.

Jessica turned red as soon as the glass door slid open. It was proofed by another door that, presumably, led into the mysterious compound. Total silence fiddled with their anticipation. A million questions zoomed across her mind, superseded by excitement as the second set of doors parted.

"Hands up!"

"Freeze!"

"Show me your hands!"

A bombardment of orders came attached to the barrels and scopes of assault rifles leveled against their gaping faces. Seven men and women stood armed to the teeth, some of them with bags under their eyes, and all bulked up by armored vests. Shannon's hands were the first to shoot up in excited surrender, a move her friends quickly copied.

"I am unarmed!" she announced. "I am not resisting! I am an innocent human civilian who happens to be black!"

"What are you doing?" Jessica whispered.

Shannon whispered back, "In case you haven't noticed, all these people are white! They could be American. From the South—California maybe. Bitch, I don't know—I am not resisting!"

"Wildcat!" Valerie cried. She rocked upright, arms in the air. "Wildcat 217563. Reporting from under the Wizard's banner."

Her friend was speaking in code. Val knew these people, and they were supposed to know her. But it didn't take a keen eye to see paranoia between their gnashed teeth. Fortunately for everyone, a deep and tranquil voice intervened.

"At ease, grunts."

From behind the armed entourage stepped a stalwart physique in a green uniform. His chest bore the same symbol as the other uniforms: earth around a rising fist. Unlike them, he advanced evenly, and his commanding brown eyes looked down from a dark crew-cut.

Shannon glanced at the advancing leader and breathed a sigh of utter relief. "Oh, thank Jackson!" The guards lowered their weapons as their superior halted, his back to them. After sizing up the three new arrivals, his sharp eyes pinned Valerie.

"I have your designation, Wildcat, but who are your two guests? Report!"

"Two civilians who I trust with my life, sir!" Valerie exclaimed convincingly. "They helped me get here! Together, we've brought evidence that could mean the world."

"Were you followed, Wildcat?"

"I—we covered our tracks three times over," she answered, nerves creeping into her voice.

The commander turned an inquisitive eye to Shannon. "And you?"

"Shannon Wolf," she exclaimed, flinching upright.

"What brings you here, Shannon?"

"They do, sir! Valerie and Jessica are my friends. I watch their asses!"

The leader stepped close, sizing up Shannon who somehow seemed calmer than Val. "Who is Jessica?"

"The girl beside me, sir."

Oh, no. He's going to turn to me. Is he turning? Damn, he's looking at me now. The man's eyes lifted the hairs on her skin. She darted and, accidentally, regretfully, made eye contact as he stepped in her direction. The next second, he loomed over her with the gravitas of a job interviewer.

"Full name, civilian."

"Jessica Leibniz," she answered, standing up straight.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm here..." The journey so far had been odd, uneventful, and tiresome—terrible in many ways. Trapped in her own thoughts, she failed to hear the second question. That's when Shannon gently nudged her out of oblivion. So, she turned back to the commander and absorbed his severe gaze. "I'm here because—because I know what really happened to Pine Rim Hovels on July fourth, sir! I have a Pandora's box with a bubblegum crisis and hope you'll avoid shooting me long enough for me to tell you about it, with all due respect."

"Jessica knows more than I do," said Valerie. "What we have was worth coming down here and worth coming out of the field."

The man's eyes smoldered over them in what appeared to be a final evaluation. It ended with his fix on Jessica and a sly smirk above his stubble. "Call me Monarch," he told them. "As you were."

As Jessica, Valerie, and Shannon dropped their postures so too did the rebels at Monarch's rear. The sweaty tension in the air diffused, the situation defused, and the resistance leader gestured for the girls to follow him. The whole underground compound lay before them.

Sobriety underlined the hazel in Jessica's eyes, tinging between worry and excitement. She was invited to witness a rebellion. Despite how surreal, she followed the road to mental acceptance. Still, disturbed by a million questions, she hoped at least one would escape her breath before her head exploded. She followed the man known as Monarch.

The smell of gasoline prevailed as strongly as the sight of steel: old aircraft, modern cars, and more—Jessica had grown accustomed to neither. Like a tourist entourage, she and her friends gawked at an underworld of mechanical mystery and vintage miracles. The jets left of them seemed straight out of a 90s flick. Closer to their path lay a series of workout treadmills. Paramilitary personnel ran to the beats of an old boombox. Like straight out of a museum, she thought, though the artists were, as the lyrics went, "Straight outta Compton."

Shannon beat Jessica to a revolving question. "What the hell is this place?"

Monarch held his head high. "Back in 2016, when the aliens delivered their ultimatum, many of our kind thought ahead and dug underground. Obviously, the promise of an epoch transition was too tempting for the rest of humanity. Not to mention our government was afraid to test the extraterrestrials' floating stockpiles. Russia, on the other hand, decided to learn the hard way."

Through a row of computer terminals, Jessica locked her eyes on the rigs with hardware she barely recognized, though they were high-tech at a glance. "I remember sifting through archives of the year 2016," she said. "Kept finding memes of the same gorilla."

"But what is the real reason humanity surrendered, Monarch?" Valerie said. "The nail in the coffin? The straw that broke the camel's back? The last drop that made the cup run over?"

Monarch stopped in the middle of their improv tour, tossing back a look of shame. "According to several accounts—many, in fact—the Azareans threatened to take our wi-fi away. During the first day of the invasion, they did. Sounds silly these days..."

"Of course!" Jessica stammered. "All you need is an LED light calibrated for internet access. Just imagine..." Once again, she made eye contact with Monarch, except this time she lost her cynicism. "' It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity' - Albert Einstein."

"If that's true, then I wonder how that translates for the Azareans," Monarch said grimly.

"It makes them puppeteers with strings in the form of tech."

Monarch led on. "Then you understand why we're the minority, Jessica, and why we're losing."

Despite Monarch's statement, Jessica livened at the community. The cavern held a multitude of men and women tied together by defiance, and they'd been hiding under the Union's nose for years, literally under New Sumer. It would have taken gross effort and resources to build the infrastructure they call home. Only great cleverness, ingenuity, and creativity could have made Sub Terra a reality.

One-hundred years of resistance still in the shadows.

Further ahead, the Earth hologram had grown in size. Of the many eye-catching curiosities in the underground base, the planet render begged for attention. At the top of a metal staircase, Jessica and the entourage passed a single door that led to an operating nexus underneath the globe. As soon as she entered the circular haven of technology, she was floored.

Floored.

A gallery of terminals populated the inside torus, Earth's hologram the epicenter. Computers on the left, computers on the right, the interior was illuminated by an endless stream of LED buttons.

Jessica skipped past the operating staff of random uniforms, past the guards, up a short series of steps, and stopped just underneath the globe. There, she found the node. So cleared her throat, inhaled, and in her deepest and throatiest voice uttered a single word.

"Commander.

"I once stepped into a Star Trek set and began pressing random buttons. I don't think I can do that here."

Sure, the nexus looked fascinating, but it was the software—the potential schemes of resistance computer programs—that cultivated her curiosity. She pondered the differences to surface technology, but just as her curiosity caught fire, Monarch stepped into her personal space.

"Excuse me," he said flatly, "but you're here because you have something to show us."

Apparently, someone invited the whole party, because Jessica took a single sidestep before flinching at Valerie, Shannon, and an entire rebel inquisition blocking the entrance. At first, they were glued to Valerie, Monarch included, but Valerie pointed at Jessica. "Don't look at me," she said, shrugging. "Jess is the whiz who cracked the secrets of the Wizard's cell."

"Way to put me on the spot, Homegirl."

Monarch folded his hands behind his back and reared his tight neck toward Jessica. "You said you had pertinent information on Pine Rime's destruction? We know those pointy-ears are responsible, but our best insider was recently compromised. Meaning, we have no damn evidence or retaliatory measures."

"You know," Jessica started, sober, "I always wondered if there was a secret world, like an upside-down dimension to the lies shoved in our faces daily. Then, I found out you were real but in the wrong light. Now that I see this place, I wonder; what does Sub Terra hope to accomplish?"

Monarch tongued his cheek. "It starts with your intelligence."

"My IQ's pretty high."

"I refer to—"

"I know what you mean, I just said my IQ's high." Near nervous, Jessica retrieved the white flash drive from her front pocket and cautiously handed it to Monarch. As it touched the palm of his hand, Valerie stepped forward.

"Sir," she began. "What of the operatives who found this data? Where are they?"

"They went dark," he drawled. He inserted the drive into the node. "For so many years, our war against the Union corporations has been one of information. Progress is negligible and scarce. Let's face it, our predecessors submitted to the aliens because of a gross technology gap."

Above, the Earth hologram rapidly shrunk and pixelated under an array of files. Jess guided Monarch to the aforementioned evidence, helping him steer away from the temptation of opening more. As a result, the playback eventually commenced and resounded throughout the entire headquarters. Jess and her friends would have to sit through the traitorous recording again.

"Increase the volume," said Monarch.

The reverberation of the sound managed to lift their collective skin hairs, supplanting the industrial ambiance with an ominous discussion. Two voices echoed, acting as a clockwork sedative to everyone's workflow. Every pair of eyes steered to where the globe had been, fixing on the holographic emulation of soundwaves.

When she first heard the recording, Jessica was gripped by confusion and anger. It still had that effect, minus the confusion. This time, her reaction came vicariously. Azareans were the enemy, as far as these rebels were concerned. Even now, however, every listener subscribed to quiet disbelief and disgust. By the last few sentences, disdain was engraved on their faces.

Like a vacuum, the echoes between Malvis and the fake resistance leader sucked every shadow of doubt from the compound.

The playback ended.

"What else is there?" Monarch deadpanned. He turned, surprising Jess with his blank expression. Compared to everyone else, he may as well have been a cold shell.

"There's plenty," she asserted. "I'm not even—not even—going to get into the socio-political shitstorm, but thi—this will throw a wrench into future ploys on the Azareans' sinister bucket list, okay? They won't see this coming."

Monarch's brow furrowed. "This recording?"

"With all due respect, sir," Valerie interjected, I don't think the people who risked their lives getting this information considered it useless."

"Not what I'm implying. But in recent months, the Azarean regime has demonstrated the reach of their false epistemology. Since they always succeed, our options are limited. We need something on top of this, revolutionary staying power: technology, operations, intelligence on the backend. We need actionable info on how they're running the show."

"Fine!" said Jessica. "I've seen what's on the chip. There's plenty data on heinous projects— corporate schemes: how they funnel their finances, experimental research base locations, and some real fuckery going on."

"Logistics? Weapons? Ways to breach their network?"

"Ohhoho," Jessica laughed. "Are we uncovering secrets or looking for ways to conduct a war?"

"I understand what we have, regarding evidence, but it's not that simple."

"Maybe not for you. This isn't the 21st century; damning evidence actually means something when leveled against a big-wig."

"We need a method of distributing that evidence to the world. Do you understand how difficult that would be? It involves breaching an impenetrable network, establishing a line to the global broadcasting system, and then holding the line long enough to get the message through. Forget hacking New Sumer, let alone the entire world. New Atlantis, Camelot, Babylon... All of Eden would have a failsafe to stop a breach into the other's cyberinfrastructure. Unless you somehow hack it from the source, there's nothing you can do."

Jessica turned away, tired from looking at the commander. Then again, it was technically morning, and she hadn't slept well. She had just enough energy to roll her eyes in hardcore annoyance. Eyes: pale eyes, dark eyes, dubious pupils. The Sub Terra guards had been staring all the while, keen through every bout of their exchange. She wondered what they'd sacrifice for their cause, twiddling her thumbs.

"You can try hacking Goliath HQ," she mumbled.

"And what are we going to do?" said Monarch. "Just walk in there and steal access?"

"I did."

Monarch's brow furrowed into a chasm. "You did what?"

Jessica turned back around, pursing her lips. "I ran in there and took their files."

"Explain."

"I will explain slowly..."

Jessica dumped the next few moments with recollection every dealing with Goliath. She began with her alias Lynx, her role as a contracted cryptologist, and segued into her dealings with David Mourner, the director of Computer Engineering. She then mentioned Goliath's encryption algorithm, SK-3, and how it gave her a backdoor into Goliath's systems. This eventually transitioned to her woeful memory of Malvis.

"In other words, I can do whatever Goliath can do," she finished. Her anxiety suddenly returned. The crowd had grown in size since the start of her monologue. Armed men and women crouched mere meters away, grey jumpsuits on her left, and a motley crew of polyester tanks and bombers on the right.

"Leaking the data on the internet is easy, but getting it front and center is the tricky part," she added, but deliberately neglected to mention her involvement in the last terrorist incident. Failure still rolled off her tongue.

"So, you were contracted by Goliath?" Monarch repeated back.

"To discover potential backdoors into undisclosed encryption software," said Jessica. "I was surprised to find collisions in a hash function, and that's what I told David."

Monarch cleared his throat of cynicism. Moreover, judging by their faces, the rest of Sub Terra seemed to understand and accept her story.

"In the end, I hacked Goliath and forged a document that would give me access privy to executive personnel, though I haven't tested the limits of that access. But it's there in case I'm ever next to their TPUs, you know, downloading porn or something."

A random listener chimed in. "Okay, but you would still need a signature, right?"

"You would. I got one."

"And how did you pull that off?" enjoined a grunt with blue bug eyes.

"By walking into the Goliath and asking for one."

"Say what?" said Valerie.

Murmurs followed suit. Jessica withdrew a tablet from her backpack. "I copied Goliath's script and hid it in this employee evaluation sheet. Some simple tweaks to the language; goodbye, Goliath administrative access; hello, Tacquizza review."

"Someone signed it?" asked Monarch.

Grinning with a jive for patience, Jessica lifted her goggles and projected a hologram. "This is the bastard," she answered. The still-image of an Azarean lay bare for all to see.

"We've seen that particular Azarean before..."

One ragged member of the motley resistance crew inched forward. "From what intel we've gathered, he goes by Malvis," he said. "Evidence suggests he's one of many agents immersed in shady dealings for the private sector. All off the books, naturally."

"Malvis is a dick," said Jessica.

"That space elf's a bit of a mystery, and a recent player in corporate espionage," rejoined Monarch. "Guesses say he reports to the very top."

"Top of what?" asked Valerie.

"The top...

"There's someone here who can tell you more about him, actually. I would like you to meet him right now. You two will have a lot in common, I'm sure, and he can copy the data from Goliath. Everything. But while I still have you, I want to know something." Straightening his posture, Monarch met Jess with undivided attention. There was a little less condescension and more respect in his eyes.

"You implied that you have access to Goliath's network," he said. "Say you were back in there, hypothetically, could you take control of their systems?"

With feral intensity, Jessica's eyes locked onto the commander's. "If I were inside, I'd make them sing their lies to the world."

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# Chapter 13 Need Some Exposition?

Practically speaking, Jessica had received a VIP all-access pass within Sub Terra HQ but was advised not to disturb busy personnel. She took the advisement under partial consideration. Pouring over the cave in her mind, she became giddy with every additional mystery in sight. That enthusiasm crashed every time someone opened the door to the shooting range. If not for the dampener glass, no one would have slept. As for the weapons tested, from the laser-like projectiles, she assumed they were magnetic.

Between a series of crates, the vigilant teenager eventually took Valerie aside. "I'm kinda sorry for doubting you, on the way here," she drawled. "I thought it was a calculated risk letting you lead us, but I was pretty wrong."

Valerie crossed her arms. "You apologizing is weird, so don't worry about it. Even I wasn't sure what to expect; but we're here, not dead yet, and that's all that matters."

"Agreed," said Shannon, trudging close. "What I would like to know, Val, is when the hell did you join this crew? Did you fill out a résumé or what?"

"One day, I needed money," she groaned. "Go figure. This job came my way through a cousin—mine so long as I didn't ask questions. When it paid well, I decided to keep it going, you know? I traded packages in New Sumer and kept it on the down-low before this uptight Azarean comes up to me and asks what I have in my suitcase. I wanted to be honest and say, 'I don't know.' But honesty is stupid, so I said it was marijuana for a clinic—"

"The short version, Val."

"Fine... I get caught. Toma: A Sub Terra agent saves me and tells me the truth about what's in the suitcase. Guess he felt obligated, maybe a little guilty, 'cause then he told me about the whole thing: Sub Terra, the cells, their mission. At first, I didn't care, like, at all. The more I thought about it, I realized Goliath and The Union were really up to some shit. I started to believe in what I was doing, so I kept workin' it."

Slowly, Shannon nodded. "Okay, you know what? That's cool. I was afraid you were an anarchist for a while. Or worse..."

"Anarchy is a theoretical status quo whose self-negation is evidenced by its inability to have a historical impact," Jessica rejoined. "But if you're a sheep, you essentially lack personality and buy VI's and games that other people buy even if they're crap."

"I agree, but that's not the point, Jess."

"Thinking out loud."

Their side-quest into the hangar surrounded them with more rock and shadow. Its concrete surface held the wheels of aircraft, several unique engines, all of them from decades past yet impossibly new. Elsewhere on the grounds lay a series of barracks neatly set in a row, each and every one of them with the same insignia. On uniforms, on banners, everywhere, a fist rising from the planet Earth. "It's definitely gripping." Jess tried not to giggle at her own joke.

One road across the cavern connected the jet hangar and barracks. Both ends terminated at magnificent metal doors, which could have led to the sky or deeper underground. Every damn observation tallied Jessica's mind with a new question.

"Where the hell did all this come from?" she whined then pointed at the nearest stranger, a young Asian man in blue coveralls. He gawked from beneath the beak of a black fuselage. "You! Where, the hell, did all this come from? Tell me right now."

The young man flinched. "You need some exposition?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"You're new," he remarked at her approach. "Are you the guys—gals that brought that creepy recording? Cuz I really hope it gets us somewhere."

"Yes." Valerie winked. "We came with gifts in the form of criminal evidence, black ops crap, and charm."

"In that order," said Shannon.

"That's hardcore," said the young man. "I'm Chris, by the way. Tsushimoto. Friends call me Sushi."

Jessica laughed. "NO-ho, they don't..."

He shyly snickered.

"Well, Chris, my name is Jessica Leibniz, but my friends call me Jess. It's not as appetizing."

"I'm Shannon."

"And you're Wildcat," finished Chris, pointing over Jessica.

"Does my reputation procede me or something?" said Valerie.

"Something like that, but you have questions?"

"Yes!" Jessica rejoined. "For starters, I want to know if the 1990s called to ask for their junk back."

Chris snickered "After the 'invasion'"—signing quotes with his fingers—"trillions of dollars of military armament was decommissioned across the world. The whole world. You have to understand, friends, killing was a business back in the day. It was hella good. Super good, so why stop just because it's the end of the world?"

"Doesn't make good business sense," Jess added.

"Exactly! Gun pushers needed steady clientele once the governments went under. So, who did they go to?"

"Underground rebels," said Shannon. "Nick Cage got it right."

"Exactly!" Chris grinned. "You guys are smart."

"Either they sold to rebels or they sold to gun nuts," said Jess. "Also, militia, army wannabes, cults, extremists, and synonyms."

"Anything not in a museum was scrapped or sold to someone who could afford a crazy hobby, so long as the dealer didn't get caught. And you'd be surprised – Compared to today, the 21st century was one huge ammo dump. No proper recycle bins or bots. It's why people still stumble across old weapon caches.

"However, comma, you won't stumble across anything nuclear, thanks to the Fallout Directive. 5% of Russia looks like Chernobyl, thanks to the Azareans and the government's own naivety."

Jessica eyed Chris. "You're telling me things I've already explained to other people, Sushi."

"I get ahead of myself."

"So, you just found this old plane lying around?" Shannon said, pointing at the black metal machine.

"Yea! Can you believe this used to be the most terrifying thing in the sky? Now..." Chris drifted, chin downturned broodily.

"Alright, explain something," rejoined Jess, eager to get him back on track. "What's the point of this vintage scrap? You've got Azarean radar in every direction, which doesn't exactly leave room for recreational aeronautics. If you fly, space elves will follow. So, have any of these been retro-fitted with omni-signature reflection?"

"Not yet." Chris tongued his cheek. "But, imagine if we needed them and never had them? That's the brass' excuse, at least. This model is a viable scout. They can fly in the Old World, and there's no other way to get eyes in the sky unless Dissent, somehow, hacks a satellite. As for the rest of these..."

Despite the confidence in his voice, Jessica's critical gaze stung him. Chris wore skepticism on his sleeve, as her eyes chipped away at that confidence without either of them realizing.

"The Azareans did catch us, once," he said. "Their fighter—Coursers we call them—shot down a Sub Terra scout on the west coast. Good pilots are hard to recruit. Anyway, Azarean Courser that got Rick was recorded at Mach 7."

Jessica's brow lifted. "That's—"

"Not even possible, right? At that speed, kinetic force—the wind—would crumple the hull. Thing is, Coursers have a membrane, some kind of shield that's invisible until extreme stress. It looks like a bubble on fire."

Shannon leaned against the nearby crates. "Hey, Chris," she started. "You say that like you were there. You a pilot?"

"He is a pilot and engineer," Jessica said confidently.

"Mechanic," Chris humbly corrected. "I make sure this 'scrap,' as you call it, keeps working, even if they're outdated. Gives me something to do."

Valerie leaned a little closer. "What happened to the jet pilot and the Azarean ship?"

"Killed himself before crashing," he slurred in the attempt to sound casual, "but he knew the risk."

"What would you do with an Azarean Courser if you got your hands into one?" Jessica leaned in.

"Got me. Sure, it's a machine that flies, but what I know is still barebones when it comes to aviation. Not that I would mind digging into the engine, or whatever powers them. Normal radar won't catch them. At least, I'd get to see how they defy physics."

"Whelp, I hope to see one eventually! One that's grounded, obviously."

"Yea, me too..."

"Now, I've gotta see this computer geek Monarch mentioned."

"Just use your nerd radar," said Valerie.

Chris laughed.

"See you around Chris." Jessica waved off their new acquaintance and proceeded to the nearby block of terminals.

"Remember to stay in the dark," he said with a salute.

Over by the terminals, Jessica obliviously speed-walked to a series of motherboards just waiting for inspection. The rigs displayed a clash of old-school and modern ports. With no one around to stop her, she crouched and took the liberty of opening the closest tower. She tried. The hatch was screwed tight.

"What is this setup?" she whined, standing upright. "This thing looks pre-millennial 70s. Anybody got a screwdriver? Anybody know what that is? It's exactly what it sounds like."

"Shiiiit." Shannon froze. "She found the computers."

Jessica was already walking circles around the terminals, among which a user slept face down. She leaned over the slumbering stranger, to discover a game onscreen.

"Hey, it's Half-Life 3!"

"You always dive through people's things?" someone belittled.

She turned her neck to assign a face, then found her own glaring reflection in a pair of shades. Followed by tapering red hair, sideburns, and pasty whiteness. A complexion complemented by a black cap.

"Amon..."

Amon stood several feet behind her, hands on his hips, chest thick with armor. The lack of a mechanic's jumpsuit was disappointing. Instead, he rolled up his black sleeves for whatever technical resistance work awaited. And he still wore sunglasses indoors.

"Don't worry about me," Jess mocked. "I'm just checking the heating."

"I don't go to your home and... Hmph." Amon averted his gaze.

The girl smiled diabolically. Though surprised to see the cocky redhead, she wasn't too surprised. Someone employed him; Sub Terra would have been a sound guess. But another question took a bite of her thoughts.

"It was you who sent me the warning from Ghost Wire, wasn't it? You knew the Azareans would come sniffing around my apartment."

Within a pregnant silence, Amon removed his glasses and revealed eyes pristine blue. Though the gesture made him look cool, Jessica refused to admit it.

"Yes, I sent you the warning," he answered haughtily. "Believe it or not, I didn't think I'd see you here. Eventually, sure. Not tonight."

"Alright. Let's get this out of the way, Red. Three questions: How did you know they'd be coming? Why did you help? And what are you doing here?"

"I'll take your three questions and give one answer. Big alien brother is a bit of a mystery, but no one would benefit if they got their hands on you."

"You need me for something..." Before Jessica could squint any harder, Shannon crept closer and offered Amon a hand.

"Whattup man?" she greeted.

Jessica broke from the middle of their staring contest, and Amon's freckles, to turn her neck. "Shannon, this is one of those Black Hats I mentioned."

"Oh. Whattup, Cracker?"

"Derogatory slang is refreshing," said Amon, copying Shannon's grin. "I'm not a stickler for this type of thing but a thank you would've said more with less, Lynx."

Jessica sighed then smeared reluctance over her tired eyes, regretting her cold hands. "So, you're calling the gratitude card, huh? Fine. Thank you, Amon, for what it's worth, even though I'm sure that's not your real name."

"My name is Cracker." Amon turned to Valerie, who had been silently gawking at him the entire time. "Are you going to ask, or are you just going to stare?"

"Is that your natural hair color?" Valerie pointed.

"Yes."

Jessica scratched her scalp. "About that..."

"Can I touch it?" said Valerie.

Like Shannon, Jessica rolled her eyes the moment Amon rubbed his chin to actually consider Valerie's question. Amon gave his answer. "Fine." He removed his hat.

Valerie lifted and twiddled her fingers through Amon's sexy red hair, causing Jess and Shannon to cringe. "Okay, that's enough," he said. Valerie removed her hand and Amon replaced his hat. "I have something for you."

"Aren't redheads supposed to be extinct?" Shannon interrupted

"I don't have time to tell a long story, right now. But it relates to why I'm here, and I'm not the only one." He put his glasses back on. "That rig you were trying to steal into, Lynx, it's a vintage shell over alien tech. Pretty old alien tech, but it still works wonders, unlike most of what you'll find up top."

Finally.

Jessica was desperately curious about Sub Terra's technology. One way to find anything comparable to alien tech was to assemble components from scratch. And even then, finding the right components was extremely difficult. Alien goods hardly mixed with retail, which is why its presence in rebel hands surprised her. Then again, the black market was always the outlaw's luxury.

"There you go with that name again," exclaimed Shannon. "Who the hell is Lynx, Jess?"

"It's my moniker," she said defensively. "It's a good idea to have one if you're a netrunner, if you dig through cyberspace, consenting or otherwise."

"Why Lynx?"

"I just thought it worked..." Jessica felt tired from talking, tired period. Moreover, the concern in Shannon's voice was not lost on her, but she moved past the impulse to apologize. "We were talking about alien tech."

"The first time it was used on Earth, it wiped our wi-fi," Amon said humorlessly. "The rest is history."

"It was you Monarch wanted me to meet, wasn't it?"

When Amon returned a blank stare, Jessica pulled her goggles. "Pull up recent photos, Babel." Promptly, the lenses projected a hologram reel of her recent snapshots. She swiped left until Malvis cropped up. Amon was stiff.

"Where did you meet him?"

"At Goliath."

"How did you get that close?"

"What can you tell me about him?"

Again, the redhead removed his glasses. His eyes shared the intensity in his voice. "He's been working for—or with—Goliath. To be determined. I can tell you, from personal experience, he is not an elf you wanna get involved with unless you're miles away."

"Too late," said Jessica, revealing her white flash drive. "Thanks to him, we have unadulterated access to Goliath if we can get inside."

"How the hell—"

"I already told the story, and unlike you, I don't like retelling things. Your big boss, Mmmonarch, he wanted you, specifically, to have a copy of this data."

Amon grinned and slowly broke into a laugh. "You just did half the work! I just hope it was easy because the next step won't be."

"And what is the next step?" said Shannon, exasperated.

"We'll get into it soon."

"You never told me what you do with your processors," returned Jessica. "That alien TPU in your motherboards must be good for something."

"In a nutshell, we keep the government guessing. We need channels to the surface, legends for agents and"—he turned his head at Valerie—"if our couriers aren't enough, we communicate directly with our undercover contacts. Which requires top-notch encryption, which occasionally means meddling with civilization, which means complex algorithms that can play against Azarean code. It takes crunch just to stay one step behind."

Rolling between Shannon and Valerie, Jessica found them both on the verge of migraines. Shyly touching her shoes together, she proceeded with a question. "So, who operates and handles cyberspace? I assume you have more than script kiddies."

Amon plucked the flash drive from Jessica's fingers, glasses tumbling over his eyes. "Follow me."

Interest piqued, Jess chipperly followed Amon's lead. It was a brisk walk to a gigantic tent situated against the rocky foundation of the HQ. Outside stood several members of the motley crew from the meeting with Monarch, the same inquisitive minds that played 21-questions after her Goliath story. They shot glances in passing. To her relief, theirs were friendly faces, signs of approval. Then Amon stopped at the tent's flap entrance

"Is this a lair within a lair?" said Jessica.

"More like a den," said Amon, holding open the flap. "But this one doesn't exactly belong to Sub Terra."

"Then where have you led us?" said Shannon.

"Dissent."

The hell does that even mean?

Jessica glanced at her friends, whose eyes reflected hesitation, then wandered to the collective behind them. A colorful multitude of men and women, full of every kind of attitude, together formed a potential mound of aptitude. With nothing to lose, she took the first step inside the tent.

"I'm becoming claustrophobic," she whispered. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the earthy walls of a thin corridor before neon green shone across the interior. The mystical light source blossomed over wires and screens, a prism of them packed together. They preceded a husky, feminine voice that rambled. Part soft, part sinister.

"Wherever the Devil roams is cold."

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# Chapter 14 Calculating in Your Sleep

Pitch darkness would have characterized the room if not for the marvelous computer arrangement. Little More than a crooked series of seats, wires, and converted toasters.

Crammed between the hardware of the dark tent sat an inconspicuous woman glued to a black, vintage monitor. Yet another stranger whose red hair gleamed under green glass, absorbed in her computational task.

The sound of tapping keys persisted elsewhere, steering Jessica to a black-haired boy in a beanie. Perhaps no older than thirteen, he sequentially snapped his fingers six times then switched hands before returning to the keyboard. Likewise glued to the screen, his head persistently lulled on his shoulder.

He's autistic.

A few steps ahead of Jess, Amon peered over his shoulder at her. "The others are sleeping, but that's Beelz," he said, indicating the fairer redhead. "She won't notice you when she's focused." He pointed to the boy. "Same goes for Boros over there, except he's always that way."

"Join the club," Jessica muttered under her breath.

Amon stepped beside Boros and had his hand smacked away the moment he fingered the stack of crackers on his plate.

"And this is our humble lair," Amon finished, waving his arms. "There's an unused setup you can use, Lynx"—he pointed to a small, black box console flat on one of many desks—" which you may use to log into Ghost Wire. No one needs to suspect that Lynx and Jessica are the same people. Password for login is the latest crypto coin."

"Fitting," Jessica remarked. "Why do I get the feeling I was always meant to come here? This place. Dissent."

"Fate?" Amon shrugged. "An inconvenient set of permutations in the unknowable sequence we call life? Nope, a higher power was probably involved. Either way, I have data to review."

Jessica curiously observed Amon settle next to the mysterious Beelz. She didn't seem to notice him, either.

"Now that we're in the bat cave," started Shannon, "how do we start fighting crime?"

Valerie yawned. "I'd rather we do that in the morning. I said I'd lead us to a safe place, and this is as safe as it gets. We can, por lo mejor, get some sleep until Monarch figures out the next plan."

"I'm kinda worried about that," said Jessica, starting toward the computers. "First thing's first: housecleaning." She set fingers on the console when a virtual screen beamed a bright blue ray upon them. She logged into Ghost Wire.

In studying the website, she discovered that Procel and Helios had completely fallen off the grid, so pondered how their disappearance might relate to Goliath, then contemplated further whether Helios and Malvis were one and the same.

"Bitgold's value has gone up," she said. "Ain't that some—"

"What are Bitgolds?" asked Valerie.

"Cryptocurrency."

"Uhuh?"

Jessica held a microchip between her middle and index fingers. "You know how the slightest touch of a web lets the spider trace the origin? Say it's a horsefly—whatever. In cryptocurrency, the unending stream of digital transactions is the web, while the trapped fly is a transaction, and those of us who give and take, weaving the unending blockchain, we are the spider. The web never ends; the fly never leaves."

"That is an interesting analogy," said Shannon. "I'm still not sure I understand."

Jessica inserted the chip into the console. "I'm so happy they have solid keyboards here." Her fingers eventually triggered a single audio playback.

"We are not inept dogs."

"Who is that talking?" said Valerie.

"I hoped you'd recognize it," said Jessica.

"We are not inept dogs..."

Jessica placed her finger on the virtual monitor and massaged the soundwaves. "You know how many services utilize voice command?"

"We just heard that conversation," said Shannon. "It was between Malvis and that terrorist."

"Between terrorists," Jessica corrected. She trimmed the playback into three audio segments:

"We are not inept dogs"; "These people owe you something?"; "Whatever."

"Your everyday voice algorithm isolates wavelength patterns," Jess continued. "It records voices, collates their unique signals, and formulates a vocal signature before storing it in the database, unbeknownst to everyone but authorities. Privacy acts are just cardboard fences. Virtually anything with a processor utilizes the vocal algorithm." As she spoke, Jessica's fast fingers cast a spell on the screen. "We're the only ones who know what Malvis's partner in crime really sounds like. Everyone in New Sumer heard an artificial voice. What's more, I bet the wavelengths were reconfigured manually."

"Terrorists normally don't want to be found," Shannon said frustratedly. "But what makes you think the recording in Valerie's data wasn't manipulated?"

"Because I think an Azarean encrypted this file."

"And?"

"You ever met an Azarean, Shannon?"

"I have come into contact with them. Why?"

"They're full of themselves," said Valerie.

"Bing. Arrogant, to be precise," Jessica said.

"So, I guess an Azarean adding an extra layer of security would require them to presuppose that someone can break through the first," Shannon rejoined.

"Which is ridiculous, but we broke through two. "Her next button-press initiated a flow of code on the monitor.

Valerie beamed. "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"What am I doing?" Jessica said coyly.

"You're, umm, doing the stuff with the voice algorithm."

"Cross-referencing our mystery man's real voice with every voice in the vocal database."

"Tell me no one is tracking that."

Jessica scoffed. "Well, as a precaution, I'm bouncing the signal off multiple IP addresses. And as an extra-extra precaution, I initiated the hack from someone else's personal computer. Because, you know, precautions..."

"That's fucked up!" Shannon stammered. "You mean, you're using that computer to hack another computer to hack another computer?"

"If you want to oversimplify..."

"Whose computer are you hacking?"

A random wail punched through the console speakers. "Why can't I stream my anime!" Jessica and her friends lent their undivided attention to a live feed. They saw her apartment acquaintance, Jeffrey, throwing a tantrum in sleek white pajamas.

"If he does get tracked, they won't find anything," she told them. "Besides, the voice search is being rerouted within and throughout Goliath's network. Invisible." She began whirling her hands for effect. "And the results will land right where I want them." She unstrapped her backpack and retrieved her Vit, whose screen revealed the exact same cryptic web of wavelengths that played on the monitor. "For now, we play the waiting game."

"For Beth's sake, I do hope you find him," said Valerie.

"And what will you do when you find that man?" said Shannon.

Jessica rubbed her chin. "What am I going to do, or what do I want to do?"

Shannon leered.

Amon returned from his five-minute hiatus to supplant himself in the middle of the girls' conversation. "I knew it was a good idea to keep you on our radar, but it was actually a great idea. The flash drive you gave me is a handheld hotbed of conspiracy."

"Valerie is the one who brought it to me," Jessica muttered.

Amon's shades fell on Valerie. "So, you procured it, and she cracked it. Does that sound right?"

"Si, basically," answered Valerie. "But explain, tall, red and handsome. What did you find?"

"Maybe they're running super-secret experiments on humans?" Shannon guessed. "Probably abducting us in invisible spaceships. God, I hope they're not eating people."

Amon took off his glasses and glared. "May I?"

"Proceed, Cracker."

He inhaled sharply. "Goliath is secretly funneling finances into research across several black sites. Then there's this headquarter floor that's not on official records."

"Another secret?" said Jessica.

"Looks like it. Couldn't be sure, so I dug deeper but found nothing but a list of names."

"Lemme see."

Amon held out an old touch-screen phone. Jessica found nothing of interest until she read the very, very last name. David Mourner. Her shoulders knotted. "Are these people related to something specific?"

"Storage," said Amon.

"The hell does that mean?"

"Whoever these people are, I hope their experience is nothing like mine was."

Jessica mentally tried to piece together Amon's story. "Sorry," she muttered.

He shook his head. "Not now. Whoever these people are, they know things."

"Like the fact that SK-3 was a fractured security algorithm Goliath wants to cover up?"

"Right." Amon's brow furrowed, eyes rolling into his head.

3...

2...

1...

"Wait..." A neon green light blinked above him. "If that's true—"

"People would attribute the breach of New Sumer's network to a corporate mishap," said Jessica.

"But—"

"The chip says that Goliath staged the breach and the terrorist attack from the get-go."

"Which means—"

"SK-3 was dead on arrival, probably intentionally, and not compromised by an external hack. The fault in Goliath's coding was ignored or deliberate, which could implicate them in a conspiracy. The average Joe Schmoe and Jane Doe wouldn't understand that. The fake terrorist ploy helped Goliath publicize the lie of a breached—but actually broken—algorithm. But if people learn the truth about SK-3's shittiness..."

Amon's expression was not the picture of surprise Jessica expected. Instead, his half-smirk was bitter-sweet.

"Goliath is vulnerable," she finished.

"They engineer terrorism," Amon nodded. "Terrorism engineers new security directives. Although, I don't understand why they didn't use an older security algorithm and lay the blame there. Why invent a faulty one, considering the risk?"

"Which is why I believe it was a mistake." Jessica closed her fist. "Goliath made a mistake."

"Plot holes aside," Jessica continued, "I think the new security directives are the prime reason for it all."

Again, Amon nodded. "My theory: Goliath hoped an artificial domestic threat would let them tighten their grip on Eden, and no one would question it. An investigation of SK-3's source code could undermine all of it. In other words, they blinked."

"For the first time in a hundred years, These are only the things we know about..." Hearing a couple of sighs, she eyed Shannon and Valerie whose mugs were darkly and disturbed. "I don't have to spell it out. This is why they're hunting me."

Amon crossed his arms. "We won't learn more unless we get inside their HQ."

The dates... "Or we can just put two and two together," Jessica snorted. "Pine Rim was not an accident, and neither was the date on which it happened."

"Fourth of July?"

Jessica darted her eyes side to side. "Valerie."

Homegirl beamed upright. "What's up?"

"How did you know about the dates on the drive when you came to my apartment?"

"The dates? Oh! The drop-off came with a message. It told me what to look for, which doesn't happen often."

Jessica set elbows on the desk and meditated. A sick feeling welled up inside of her. "I bet if you cross-reference every date on that drive, they'll match national holidays."

"Which national holidays?" said Amon.

"All of them."

"Maybe, you'll learn to hate Azareans as much as I do."

Jessica immediately wiped any evidence of her sorrow and turned around. There stood Beelz, the mysterious woman of Dissent. She had a rather humorless voice, and an X-shaped scar on her cheekbone chiseled much like of the rest of her. The room's neon glow highlighted the muscular arms and neck while a dark tank top and pants covered everything else.

"Even pro bono, you don't let a repairman into your house unless you believe it's broken," Beelz continued. "It has to stay broken. Otherwise, you ask them to leave. Azareans are repairmen, and their most dangerous trait is invisibility. It's in their best interest to make us hate each other; they need to manipulate and mold that hate, keep it perpetual, but keep it from reaching their high towers."

Jessica could almost sweat from the heat in Beelz's words.

Breathe.

The chiseled woman stepped closer. "Lynx, right?"

"That's me," Jessica cooed.

"Beelz." Her hand extended within a fingerless glove. "I've heard about you via the Wire."

"Some of them good?" Jessica returned the gesture before Beelz grabbed and tugged forcefully. Both women stood ear to ear. Valerie and Shannon flinched so fast they entered fighting stances.

"Suspiciously good," Beelz whispered, then leaned back. Glorious green eyes on a resting bitch face. "Do you hate the Azareans, as I do?"

I sense this girl has a problem with me. "Even if I did, I doubt it would be the same kind of hate," she said. "I'm more interested in neutering them and spreading their secrets."

"Eventually, sure," said Amon, stepping directly between the two women. "You look wrecked though, Lynx, so, not to be too polite or anything, but you could use a cooldown period. Respawn tomorrow so we can get to work."

Beelz ambled away, taking a seat, back to reclusive espionage at her monitor.

With a scowl, Jessica turned to Amon. "Negatory," she remonstrated. "There's still too much to do, digital wheels to grease and so forth."

"I can't stop you, but even geniuses need rest sometimes."

"You should stop flattering me and get to your own work, Amon."

"Yes, Amon. Stop," Beelz chided from her workspace.

"Either way, he has a point, Jess," said Valerie, laying low her frown. "We really gotta get some sleep. I can't get over all these world-turning revelations, right now." She innocently upturned to Amon. "Sleeping alone?"

Jessica rolled her eyes.

"Technically, no," Amon replied. Again, he waved for the girls to follow him, which entailed a short walk through a connected corridor. Just more darkness funneled into a cavity of secrets. As she slumped forward, Jess realized that Amon was right. She was tired, and the caffeine remedy was nowhere to be found.

Amon lifted a flap to another pitch-black room, holding a finger to his lips. Jessica peered inward with her goggles, to find nothing but bunks snoring. Amon's crew slept here.

"Looks like the party's here," Shannon whispered. "Why are you guys split off from the rest of Sub Terra?"

"Call us Dissent," said Amon.

"So, you don't play well with others?" remarked Valerie.

"It's the name of their organization," Jessica whispered back. Night vision revealed a multitude of bunks empty and occupied. They would sleep among strangers for the night. As the goggles came off, another thought invaded. "What's Beelz's story?"

Amon straightened his lips. Any empathy he might have shown retreated behind his glasses. "Her story is my story," he sighed, "but the pill she swallowed was quite bitter. Moving forward, Lynx, you need to realize that the alien regime can be crueler than people realize. Perhaps crueler than even they know – Monsters don't need mirrors."

Jessica could almost feel his bitterness on her muscles, cushioned by melancholy as she looked back at Beelz. The woman seemed like a cold statue, a premonition who peered up from her computer and caught Jessica staring. She blinked away.

"We have a lot to talk about in the morning."

"Just pick a bunk and crash," Amon said, departing.

Time. Jessica wished she had more time to dissect the chip. "I know you guys are at least as tired as I am," she told Valerie and Shannon. "We'll take another hard-hitting dose of rebellion tomorrow."

"So long as we're around to regret it," replied Valerie, spreading her most optimistic smile, but her eyelids had sagged into a squint.

"We got more than we bargained for tonight, didn't we?" Shannon yawned.

Jessica's forehead creased. "Having regrets already, Xiao Long?"

"Not at all. I'm glad I came. I'm just wondering, for all our sakes, if the surprises will get better or worse."

"There are no surprises if you calculate. Thing is, you can't calculate in your sleep."

"I've seen you do it, actually."

"Say what?"

"Just get some sleep."

Before she could retire, Jessica peered back. Beneath the green light sat Amon and Beelz. Busybodies. The hypothetical circumstance of their meeting flashed in her imagination. They were the subjects of alien experiments, most likely. Perhaps they had never not known each other. Whatever upbringing they suffered transformed them into enemies of the regime. The pain was in there, somewhere, left to ferment. Did they ever know paradise or just the Azarean attempt to play God?

Then again, God is technically an extraterrestrial.

The passage of time between falling and waking seemed non-existent. A loud but muffled siren wracked past the barrier of a nightmare. Her eyes popped open faster than she could remember where she was, and with spaghetti muscles, she sat up on her bunk. Nothing but shadows passed until a pair of bare legs dangled overhead then landed on the floor. Valerie crouched and stared soberly.

"That can't be good!"

Lights revealed a room full of random souls funneling outside with their kits. Shannon arrived at the side of the bed, bug-eyed. Jessica reached under the bunk for her Vit. She meant to stuff it into her backpack, but the notification light made her freeze. Instead, she powered the display and discovered results from the voice database search. It had concluded with a man's mugshot. Staggered by uncertainty at first, she realized she had found Beth's killer...

# 

# Chapter 15 Darkstar

Sub Terra base was up in arms when Jessica and her friends raced out of the tent. An alarm and red lights pulled sleepless faces out of the barracks and into combat gear. The hustle inspired a tidal wave of tension under the loom of imminent danger, which could explain her quivering.

Seconds passed. The large hangar doors opened for the first time, much like how the rebels parted for Monarch. His calm gait contradicted their excitement, again. He was expecting something or someone specific.

At first, a rabid hiss snuck through the corrugated hangar doors. By the time they lifted and clicked, a low, mechanical roar spilled through, a roar that jumpstarted into an engine cacophony. Several sleek cars scurried into the base.

"No way," stammered Valerie.

Jessica darted. "Who are they?"

Too fast, the small convoy stopped in the middle of the path, nearly fumbling into the crates and gathered rebels.

"Hold fire!" said Monarch.

When the siren stopped, the foremost vehicle propped its front door and revealed a figure in dark metal. As he scurried from the passenger side to the backseat, the helmet visor grated up to reveal a tired complexion. "Help me!" he implored, lifting a bloodied man from the Ultrasuede.

A few guards hurried to assist, but in carrying the passenger away they created a blood trail.

"Medic!"

Personnel in white flexed open a stretcher on their way to the convoy. Meanwhile, the other car doors burst open. An arm in a broken gauntlet, streaked and stained with blood, reached over the window. The man to whom it belonged had a modern carbine on his back, and as he stood up, he forcefully removed his helmet for no other reason than to toss it aside. Jessica beamed for recognition—something about his brown eyes and rugged jawline. He reminded her of someone. He turned toward the direction of a shout.

"It was a shit show of a mission!"

"Calm down!" he barked.

Monarch stopped within a few feet of the familiar man. "What happened, Raptor?"

"Trouble at the extraction."

"Were you followed?"

"I don't think so. That's the only good news I have. "

Jessica and Shannon stared at Valerie for any clue as to what was unfolding. Valerie hesitated. "I think this team was supposed to find the people who have us the chip, Jess. But, I don't see anyone else... I don't see a courier." Several of the armed newcomers walked right past them.

The paramilitary crew was dirty, beaten, and utterly demoralized. No energy, defeat engraved on their faces, they sank the spirits of everyone nearby.

"Once again, we got nothing done!" a voice shouted, that same irritated voice. Jessica peered back, searching for the complainer. Simultaneously, Raptor retorted.

"It wasn't for nothing, Ike!"

The operative known as Ike turned to another squad member who was stepping out of the next driver's seat, then grabbed him by his hard bevor and shoved him against the door. "You pull that shit you pulled, again, you're not making it back from the next op!" he spat. Everyone else stared in disapproval.

As if there isn't enough tension.

Raptor quickly wretched Ike off the other squad member. "Take five!" he exclaimed. "Actually, take the rest of the morning to cool off!"

Ike ambled with wide-set shoulders as tense as his behavior, and brown eyes with vestiges of red. He joined the rest of the fireteam in their retirement to the barracks, allowing everyone else to breathe easy.

"Morning?" Jessica muttered. She checked her watch. It wasn't even 6:00 yet.

"If I had a butter knife, I could probably cut all this tension," said Shannon.

Raptor and the mysterious squad member continued their chatter in the distance. Chipperly, Raptor slapped him on the back before returning to Monarch's side. Left alone, the mystery man dared to remove his helmet. Jessica recognized him immediately.

He was younger than Raptor but shared his facial features. Boyish dark hair twisted around a widow's peak, over brown eyes beleaguered by exhaustion and a light face on the fringe of bronze. His disposition was reserved.

Dexter.

Jessica second-guessed the next probable scenario in her head until she noticed that he noticed her. His brown eyes beamed a look of surprise that darkened his suave features. It couldn't be a coincidence that he noticed her, and she noticed him; they noticed each other, and so he probably figured out that she noticed him—why it would be suspicious if she pretended to not notice his noticing of her.

"Dexter!" she called. "What the hell?"

"Jessica?" he called back in disbelief. "Holy crap, it is you. What the hell you!" He stepped forward just as she did, away from bad air.

In a pattern of events that made no sense, her old friend stood right in front of her. But instead of the high school uniform, he wore armor. The sight was jarring since she never forgot his timid nature. Her brain cranked upside down and around, trying to understand this chance encounter. A familiar face made for one redeemable, nostalgic instant.

Valerie stepped close, pointing at Dexter. "You know this weird fuck? What am I say—Of course, you do."

"We went to the same high school," Jess replied, glaring. "How do you know him?"

"His brother's the one who spilled the frijoles about this place."

"From that story you told?"

Valerie pointed in Raptor and Monarch's direction. "That's him."

"Oh."

"How do you know him?"

Jess glanced at Dexter. "We were outcasts in high school. It's a long story. Long story short: high school sucks."

"Yea, she was as big a reject as me. Only smart," Dexter mused. "But, she thought she was funny."

Jessica punched his arm. "Hey, fuck you."

Valerie rolled her eyes between them. "I'm going to get a briefing from someone else while y'all catch up."

Her departure left an awkward silence.

Jessica opened her mouth but no words came out, and she had no explanation for this phenomenon. Instead, she wobbled timidly with hands folded behind her back. Back and forth, she subtly rocked, mildly dismayed by Dexter's parallel inability to speak. His characteristically timid nature remained intact; he kept shifting his eyes between her and the floor. Just like that, both were asocially linked. The silence eventually gnawed at her patience.

Say something, you bastard.

"I would ask what you've been up to," she started in a low tone of voice, "but apparently, you've been associating with underground resistance movements."

"Well now that that's established, what have you been up to?" he replied.

"Long story."

"Lame. Normally, I'd listen to the whole thing. "

"I know you would, Dex."

"Oh, here, I go by Darkstar."

"Darkstar," she said aloud, eyes rolling up. "Dexter. Darkstar?"

Dexter pursed his lips.

"It could be lamer," she said.

"But seriously, what are you doing here?"

As soon as Jessica opened her mouth, she turned somber and pale. Nothing she could say or do would prolong their innocent reunion.

"Darkstar!" Alas, a random voice ruined the moment. Raptor approached, wearing a stern expression several feet away. "We're Oscar Mike," he said. "You need to change into civilian clothing and stand by."

Dex nodded at Raptor, but Jessica caught the shroud of disappointment on his face. To make their conversation all the more fleeting, Raptor stayed until Dexter followed through. Thus, her old friend began a half-hearted march to the barracks, but not before turning back.

"Keep your head, Jess. I don't know where we're going."

When Dexter departed, Shannon appeared in his place. "Everyone looks down, dirty, or desperate," she said. "And it looks like we're in for some new scenery. Aside from the fact that everyone's packing, I overheard Monarch and that one dude. They said Asgard knows what we have."

"As we thought," said Jessica, crossing her arms pensively. "Looks like we're reacting now."

"We just got here, too."

"You!" exclaimed Raptor.

Jessica cranked a bitter gaze at Raptor's stiff advance, then decided to play dumb. "Who, me?" she mouthed.

"Yea you, red vest." He stopped with his neck at eye level. "Monarch tells me you're the premier egghead."

"I resent that!" Amon said in passing. Both Jess and Raptor's irritated faces reflected off his sunglasses, as Shannon chimed in.

"You sound upset."

"Incredible understatement," said Raptor. "Understatement, but it has nothing to do with you. I wanna know if you'll be as useful as he said you'll be. Dead weight's not gonna work in this outfit. Neither will beating around the bush."

"Well, it's as simple as this, Sarge," Jess began condescendingly. "Valerie, AKA Wildcat, brought me the chip that is mission-critical to Sub Terra. And chu know what? I cracked it. You wanna know how I cracked it? First, I found holes in a wall of hashes the space elves considered unbreakable. Then, I manually reconstructed a Goliath administrative document, did a bait and switch, then fooled an alien into applying his signature. Now, if I simply knew where to look—in other words, if I was inside Goliath's centrifuge—and if my theory is correct, I could compromise all of their secrets.

"Since a portion of the data was corrupted, I had to go analog and sift through lines of code to reconstruct chains of evidence pointing to the Union's guild. Do you understand base computer language? The difference between a bit and a qubit? Do you know many people who do? I don't either, but if you can point me to anyone who would've managed all of the above, then sure, I'm dead weight."

Silence.

Shannon began a slow clap.

"You just got served!" said Valerie, who was apparently standing behind Raptor the entire time.

During the next pause, Raptor closely scrutinized Jessica. He was the complete opposite of Dexter with his intensity, but then his brows lifted. "Believe it or not, I actually feel better now," he said. His chin swiveled to Shannon. "You..."

"Me."

"She's with me," Jessica warned.

"Can you drive?" he asked.

"Depends on how big it is," said Shannon.

"Very manageable."

"Then I guess I'll manage."

"Go with Wildcat. She'll help you set up."

Valerie jumped. "Let's do it!"

"And you..." Raptor returned. "Your name is Jessica?"

"My friends call me Jess. But since we seem to be using monikers, you can call me Lynx."

"You look like a Lynx," he said. "You can do as you please, but we're not staying in the city. Get your bearings and make your peace."

Jessica inwardly flinched as Raptor walked off. "Well, alright then," she said in self-approval. She was not alone. Behind her stood little boy Boros, the computer-savvy kid from Dissent. Slouched, his eyes slanted in an upward glare—glaring at her for some reason. Or maybe that's just his face. He suddenly fell on the verge of tears. "Hey. what's wrong, man?" she soothed, leaning forward. "Ah!"

Beelz inserted herself between them, as if out of the nether. "He has tried and tried but never secured access to Goliath's database," she said. "So, after hearing your little rant, he's feeling pretty inadequate right now."

Boros cried.

"And I just remin—goddammit!"

Jessica broke into a sweat. "What do I do?"

"Hey! We still need you, Boros, okay?" Unfortunately, Beelz's nurture voice had no effect. Boros ran past the crates. That's when the redhead leered at the raven-haired nerd. "It's your fault but in a good way." She chased after the boy.

***

Their final hour under the city, Jessica observed the eager and greasy machine that was Sub Terra. Everything not nailed to the ground was hauled and loaded for transport. Computer rigs were carried into trucks, every viable weapon stashed under a car seat. Some rebels seemed eager to leave, while others resented the fact. Chris most of all. He sourly waved goodbye to the hangar, the way a geek would farewell their lifetime collection.

In anticipation of an exodus, most personnel switched from uniforms to civilian clothing. Hence, they looked like the most disciplined ensemble of tourists in a museum. It screamed one fact to Jessica; they were returning to the city. By the great double doors near the barracks, an entire convoy was energized and ready, comprised of everyday vehicles.

Punctually, Jessica made her way to Valerie and Shannon near the head. Sub Terra had settled on a rendezvous for their entire rebel army. Considering the thoughtful organization of their base, someone had to have an impeccable plan in mind.

"We don't know where we're going," said Valerie.

"The hell?" exclaimed Shannon.

"Mira. In cases like this, Sub Terra moves by following checkpoints. Monarch is one of the few jefes who knows where they are. He follows the clues; we reach the next base."

"Keeping things compartmentalized," Jess thought aloud. "One base can't reveal the whereabouts of the other. Makes sense. But from what you're telling me, you're never privy to info, Val. Que pasa?"

"I started from the bottom, now we're here, okay? Starting from the bottom, now we're here. I'm just a cog in this machine, so I can't know everything."

"Why are you rhyming?"

Monarch's voice thundered from a megaphone.

"Sixty seconds, people!"

Valerie led Jessica and Shannon to the vehicle they'd be sharing, a white sedan with "standard hover functionality and unlocked navigation," as she put it. Every modern car from every retailer came with GPS and automated navigation that set limitations on drivers. Thanks to an interconnected, locked interface, no one accelerated beyond designated speed limits. Moreover, built-in sensors stopped anyone from steering off-road. Since the GPS in Sub Terra vehicles was unlocked, Jessica and her friends could driver wherever they desired, at whatever speed they desired, potentially. Theoretically.

The interior held polymer seats, spacious and clean enough that Jessica suddenly felt irked by the possibility of a fourth person. That's when Dexter appeared in a new change of clothing: a black bomber jacket, black shirt, and dark blue denim jeans. He looked more like the schoolboy she remembered.s

"Hey," he said bashfully. Before Jess could reply, however, Raptor appeared directly behind him.

"All of you ready?" he queried, startling Dexter as much as the rest of them.

"We've got everything we need. Cuando quieres," said Valerie.

To be safe, Jessica instinctively checked her belongings: pockets, board, backpack, and more. Everything was where it needed to be, except for her peace of mind.

Raptor met Dexter's gaze and pinpointed another car down the line. "You're in the next one. With Ike."

"Are you kidding me?" Dexter sneered.

"You'll both be too preoccupied to be at each other's throats," Raptor insisted. "And Ike's a soldier, first; not a wild card, unlike somebody. So, he's not the one I'm worried about."

Dexter's mug shot a protest. Opening his mouth to say more, nothing came out. He walked off with a solemn glance in Jessica's direction.

"I'll see you soon."

At Raptor, Jessica tried to stifle her bitterness. "So, you're riding with us?"

He whimsically dropped against the passenger seat. "Monarch's idea."

"We'd better hope Monarch's decisions don't end up biting us in the butt," said Shannon. "I don't suppose you know how long this is going to take, Valerie? Raptor?"

"Nope," they both said.

"Then y'all better get comfortable." Shannon settled into the driver's seat.

Beelz and Boros entered the cargo truck of stashed computers. In the center of the convoy, Monarch's grey sedan was perfectly unremarkable. Dexter's slick blue car seemed dirty enough to avoid attention, like Ike's glare. As questionable as the pairing seemed, at the very least Ike didn't seem so belligerent anymore. And before Dexter grabbed the wheel, he spared one last look in Jessica's direction. His eyes bestowed a single ray of warmth.

Amon leaned on his own vehicle when he, too, made eye contact. With a two-finger gesture, he warned Jessica to keep both eyes open. Why did she get the feeling he knew more than everybody else?

Sixty seconds finished, and the alarm rang. Every member of Sub Terra and Dissent waited for the metal doors. They grated sideways, inviting the entire convoy into a hollow. Jessica stared past the dashboard, at the invitation of darkness.

#

# Chapter 16 Everyone Agreed to be Cool

What might the tunnel hold? How far would the subterranean trail lead? Jessica considered these questions as they drove underground, where the headlights revealed nothing but rock and old mining equipment.

"Where exactly are we going?" said Shannon, glancing at the passenger seat. "Oh, c'mon!"

Raptor was asleep.

"That's just great timing," said Valerie.

"Unlike us, I don't think he got any sleep this morning," said Jessica. Nevertheless, she felt tempted to smack him awake. To their luck, Amon's vehicle served as the convoy's focal point. Shannon would simply play it by ear and follow.

Far into the tunnel, they encountered a fork in the road. Three more dark tunnels spiraled before the Sub Terran convoy.

"Turn right, Shannon," Valerie told her.

Jessica eyed her friend. "Are you communicating with them somehow?"

"Yes, I am." She fingered a wireless earbud.

"You have another?" Valerie retrieved an earpiece from her front pocket, and Jessica placed it in her ear. The first voice belonged to Monarch.

"Eyes open out there. As far as you're all concerned, we're innocent civilians. Remember your aliases and avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Over."

"And if we see Asgard? Over," replied Beelz.

"Avoid at all costs, and pray for the best. Out."

"Asgard..." Jessica scrunched in her seat cushion.

"Azarean Strategy, Gendarmerie, and Rapid Deployment," said Raptor. He lazily stirred in his seat. "They're the not-so-secret arm of Eden security. A privatized military of nothing but space elves who serve their own interests, which are corporate interests. They're highly specialized and ruthless when no one is looking."

Jessica sighed. "What a coincidence that Goliath funds ruthless Azareans."

"The thing about the truth is that you never have to like it."

"Have Monarch promote you to Captain Obvious."

When they reached and ascended a rocky slope, Raptor laid wary eyes on Shannon. According to him, they were due to reach the surface. Sure enough, a slit opened in the darkness. Jessica peered beyond the windshield, where a sliver of light beamed through, past two parting shadows. Past the oversized hatch, they were finally granted a view of the sky. The surface was scarcely lit by a dark blue veil on a violet horizon.

Dawn.

Within mere seconds of their exiting the subterranean trails, Sub Terra's drivers split into unique directions. Raptor guided Shannon to a blind spot in city surveillance. In a very roundabout way, she entered a street at the fringe of city sprawl, where no one would question the sight of an off-road vehicle. At any rate, twenty-foot neon holograms of digital girlfriends and boyfriends provided well-endowed distractions. From there, she promptly merged into the city's superhighway. They quickly hit an impasse, however.

"Traffic," groaned Shannon.

"That's kinda weird," said Valerie.

Raptor shut his eyes. "We're just going to have to stay calm and wait it out."

For every sigh, Jessica surveyed something outside. The sun was rising, for better or worse, and its rays sheened the paint of hundreds of vehicles. Panning across the long sprawl of traffic, she remembered why owning a car was overrated. In the centuries leading up to current society, it was a wonder everyone managed to share roads as they did. Contrarily, modern vehicles functioned through remote monitors and smart, automated navigation. No excitement.

Back in the day, when everyone was behind their own wheel, the key to safety was just being cool. Everyone agreed to be cool, for the most part. The past is an uncontrolled experiment, and every trend is an outbreak.

"Traffic," she started. "Considering the dismal chance of an accident, more than likely, we owe this horrible crawl to a security checkpoint."

"If my hunch is right, it's directly related to the recent terror attack," said Raptor. "Security has to be down the road, waiting. We'd better hope it's regular highway patrol. Do all of you have photo IDs?"

"They want something," Valerie interjected. "After Pine Rim, the Azareans just need one more excuse to put Asgard on the streets."

Pine Rim, Jessica tried not to think about it. Tried. She scanned the superhighway and found nothing beyond a lifeless palette of pedestrians and vehicles. No aliens. Her spectral reflection appeared in the window – Dark circles around her eyes formed stark rings, thanks in part to thick eyelashes. She mentally warned the ghost that stared back. Don't let your guard down.

Raptor yawned. "Let me ask you guys this; where are the guards? The Azareans, all that tech and their best innovation is invisibility. Does anything you see make you feel like the city's under an iron thumb? Lynx? Wildcat? Shann—"

"No," said Jessica. "It all looks normal, unexciting all the time."

"Think you spoke too soon." Shannon pointed to a uniform on a scooter down the superhighway, a patrolman judging by the sleek white. Cars advanced up the lane, every single one stopping to interact with the scanner in his hand. "There's another one on the opposite side."

The mere concept of security made Jessica roll her eyes. Raptor's ambivalence, hence, made no sense. Composed as he was, it seemed like a pretense.

"I see Elsa down the lanes," he whispered.

"Understood," said Monarch. His granulated voice returned before the rest of the channel broke radio silence. Above the superhighway on which Jessica and her friends had situated themselves, there were a series of skylanes full of floating traffic. There, she saw a lime-striped vehicle on the fringe. It belonged to NSS: New Sumer Security, one of their emblematic Enforcers. More often than not, an Azarean held the wheel and badge. And below the black car, something else caught her attention.

"I think that's Beelz," said Jess. A quarter of a mile behind them drove a small cargo truck.

"Stop," Raptor warned. "Don't make it obvious. Sit and act casual."

For the next few seconds, Jessica's heartbeat play like an ominous drum. Beside her, Valerie tried to stay calm. Oppositely, Shannon sat lax in the driver's seat.

"I'm not used to seeing you nervous," muttered Valerie.

"This is my calculating face," she said, flashing a sly grin.

"No, it's not."

Raptor glanced the black Azarean Enforcer on the skylanes, the one Jessica spotted 14 seconds ago. "Elsa on Skylane 15." His eyes carried on their search.

"Roger that," said Monarch.

Sub Terra speaks in code. "I see an Azarean couple," said Jessica.

Raptor tossed a look. "What?"

"31 meters southwest. Two Azareans sitting in the white sporty."

Raptor rubbed his head against the seat cushion, and let his eyes peek past the rear window. "The couple?"

"I'd keep an eye on them."

His furrowed brow said enough, and he lowered to his microphone. "Prince and princess on the white pony. 31 meters—probably—south of you."

"Understood," said Monarch.

Jessica had only peered back once, and a snapshot of everything and everyone fed back into her memory with clarity. The Azarean couple could be nothing or something, but they were the biggest anomaly.

"I got something," said Dexter. Jessica's hair rose at the sound of his voice.

"Go ahead, Darkstar," said Monarch.

"Elsa is dancing up the road." He alluded to a second Enforcer. Per his observation, the distant vehicle was advancing up their lane. Meanwhile, Jessica scanned above their position until she isolated the blue vehicle that belonged to Dexter and Ike.

"I see them," said Raptor.

Monarch's voice solidified. "Stay frosty."

By the time Jessica dragged her attention from the Enforcers, the human patrolman was near. Time became imperceptible while his uncompromising smile scattered prickly chills across her spine. "Just keep calm. This will be a cakewalk," Raptor told them. But, her fingers twiddled on their own, eyes jamming from the gravity board at her feet to the gun at Valerie's waist. With enemies ahead, behind, and above, she had faith in their party but not the variables. Raptor, Beelz, Monarch, and Ike made for volatile ingredients to present chemistry.

"Good morning," said the patrolman. His vomit-inducing smile loomed over the driver's side. "Identification, please." Shannon retrieved her e-card. "All of you," he gleefully clarified.

Stiffened by his awkward smile, Jessica kept cool. Raptor kept a perfect composure and the patrolman in his field of view.

"Got a problem here," said Ike. His grave tone returned the moment Shannon handed her ID to the officer.

"Go ahead," said Monarch.

Jessica passed a fake ID, eyes skewed for the second patrolman. She smiled her signature fake smile to the sound of radio chatter. Teetering between interactions inside and outside the car, she cracked her fingers. One, two, three cracks, none of which could break the band around her throat.

"Visual on Elsa combing the streets, and we have family coming from the northeast, against traffic," said Ike.

On the superhighway, to the rear, the pair of Azarean officers had exited their black vehicle to patrol the lanes on foot.

"What are they doing?" asked Monarch.

"Is there a problem?" said Raptor.

"No, not at all," said the patrolman.

"Someone got stopped," replied Ike.

Heat in Monarch's voice. "One of ours?"

"I'm just double-checking," the patrolman grinned.

"We're nearing Elsa," said Dexter.

Past the rear window, Dexter's car gravitated on the cusp of the Enforcer, so Jessica's hand inched to the goggles around her neck but stopped when she remembered the patrolman.

"I just noticed that you attend my son's university," he said, staring at the calm and collected Shannon. "Complete Huron, through and through. Are you going to the exhibition tonight?"

"Oh, absolutely!" she exclaimed, matching the man's energy. "I'll be there like soy on rice as soon as I'm done studying, then I just gotta convince the boyfriend here"—thumbing at Raptor—"to get the hell out of his apartment."

"Hey, there, missy, watch that language..."

Shannon blinked.

"I'm kidding!"

Awkwardly absorbed by the white uniform, Raptor's teeth came together to form what could almost pass for a smile. Jessica imagined a different outcome if Shannon heard the same alarm bells across the channel. She waited with bated breath as Ike's anxiety needled through the earphone. "They're coming this way," he said.

Chills. The hairs on her skin stung, and the sensation nullified her normal acuity as she peered at the bright sky. Valerie squeezed her arm and glared with a warning. Stay calm. Jessica found her breathing when the patrolman handed back their IDs.

"You take care, now!" He tipped his hat.

Shannon pulled forward. They were free, the road ahead empty and s sea of vehicles behind them. Then, a third Enforcer descended upon the skylanes.

"That's three. Three Azarean patrols confirmed!" said Valerie.

"Monarch?" Raptor called.

Nothing.

Phantom knots in her neck, Jessica chose an alternative to wallowing. One ear for reality, one ear for music. "Babel, let the music play," she said and fastened her goggles. Back, left, right, then leaning into the dashboard, she measured the superhighway in preparation for what was to come.

Raptor's scowled. "What are you doing?"

"Getting my vectors." Lullabied by quick beats, Jessica pondered the state of traffic as she mumbled, "A-polar-signal-could-be-redistributed-through-a-small-slit-in-the-command-console." Upon constructing the scenario in her head, the next series of events played before they happened. "Babel, on!" said Jessica. The Vambrace illuminated and wrapped around her arm.

Valerie jumped back in her seat. "The hell is that?"

"That's what I would like to know," said Raptor.

Hyper-focused, her fingers dialed the interface. "Babel, I need you to latch onto New Sumer's GPS; reroute and synch the command with this vehicle's processor while I mask the outbound data—"

"Raptor." Monarch reentered the channel, a terrible cadence.

Shannon only glanced at her friends before her face, too, turned dour.

"Whatever happens next, Raptor, you keep going."

"Fuck!" stammered Valerie.

One backward glance and Raptor slammed his fist on the dashboard. "The Azareans are going to check the cargo!"

"No," they're not," Jessica assured.

And then Beelz spoke. "Elsa will not freeze our assets. Standby..."

1...

An Azarean officer stepped to the passenger's side of Beelz's truck. His partner approached the cargo hold.

2...

Dexter's car slowly hovered next to the Enforcer.

Raptor watched. "Dexter, stay—"

3...

A sound of thunder.

Jessica violently flinched at the explosive shockwave from the skylane– An Enforcer came crashing down. Despite the blow to her eardrums, she couldn't bring herself to look away. The HUD pinpointed Dexter's car near the billowing smoke.

"Neutralized," said Ike.

"Neutralized," said Beelz. Over by her truck, the Azarean officers had disappeared.

Frightened and curious bystanders hopped out of their vehicles to inspect the kindling wreckage beneath the sky traffic. Black smoke over the superhighway, hands over mouths agape, and many more reached for their phones.

A shadow immediately skirted over the asphalt wreck. Dexter and Ike's vehicle had broken away from Skylane 15, officially on the run, and a sore thumb in the sprawl. Hope collided with reality when precise gunfire penetrated the car, sparked an engine rupture, and brought it crashing to Superhighway 220 in a smoke heap.

Time stopped.

Shannon almost veered off the road. "What the hell is happening?"

"Ike's car is out of commission!" said Valerie.

"Shannon, just get us out of here," Raptor ordered.

Jessica's head jerked back. Disbelief sank down her throat and boiled into fury. She predicted that Beelz and Dexter would eliminate the Enforcers, but Raptor was doing the opposite of what she expected.

"How the hell can you just leave him!"

"He's my brother. I don't want to leave him!"

Sweat dribbled down Shannon's temples, toiling around the eyes. Hesitation. Jittery foot on the gas pedal, she kept a vice grip on the steering wheel.

"The link has been established, Jess," said Babel. "We can unlock software guidance for vehicles within a 20-meter radius."

It's ready. Jessica ran through the last variables in her head.

"Beelz..." whispered Dexter.

The world cacophony muffled, and Jessica darted to the vehicle remains. There he lay, a meager boy crawling out of the fiery wreckage. Dexter carefully inched outside and onto the road, before sitting himself against the dilapidated door of the flipped car. As he did so, a random voice screeched across the channel.

"Everyone, we've got Asgard incoming!"

Sure enough, their airships materialized on the southern horizon. They were little more than dark specks, but the news of their imminent arrival made Jessica's blood rush. The Azarean Enforcer squad would apprehend Dexter before long, only to put him in a holding cell fit for a terrorist.

"We're out of time!" said Raptor.

Dexter spoke frailly, tiredly strewn against a wrecked bumper. "Beelz, you have one chance to get out of here. I'll distract what's left!"

You idiot!

"Boros!" cried Monarch. "Do everything you can to scramble the airships' sensors. Beelz, I want to know everything they're up to!"

"He's on it!" said Beelz. "I've already tapped their comms."

"Play news," said Shannon, and the car radio switched on:

"—bound routes 220 and 15 have been locked down. Terrorist suspects are armed, in the middle of civilians. Law enforcement officials have engaged..."

Beelz's white truck suddenly broke from traffic and gradually gravitated off the asphalt; it generated lift and rear-ended a few cars. Its flight drew the attention of the last Azarean officers, who lifted their snubnosed rifles and commenced firing. But, they were swiftly suppressed by rogue gunfire.

Dexter limped forward, pistol in hand, no regard for himself.

"There are still too many cars and people on the road!" yelled Shannon.

"Lockdown. Manual steering has been disengaged by the city's remote traffic network," Raptor replied, "but you can still engage manual flight, Shann—"

"Not yet!" Jessica said.

"And why the hell not?"

Asgard is closing in!" Monarch's final warning. "Time to bail out!"

Jessica inhaled sharply, finger levitating over the Vambrace. "Sometimes, the best cover is chaos."

Synchronous engines suddenly swept their surroundings. Every single car gently inched off of the Superhighway as one, and before long, an entire fleet was autonomously floating in the sky.

Raptor gawked, awestruck. "What did you do?"

"I unlocked remote guidance," said Jessica. "

"You mean—"

"Everyone can drive their own car."

"Oh, shit..."

Vehicles dashed in every direction, apparently eager to flee the carnage.

"I'm hoping this doesn't lead to more damage!" Shannon mumbled under her breath. "Oh, Jesus and Jackson, please see us through this."

Valerie stuck her head out the window. "This is anarchy right here!"

Impervious to distraction, Jessica leaned against the rear cushion. Dexter had taken cover behind some abandoned vehicles, and he remained there as Azarean officers isolated him with automatic gunfire. He seemed all but lost until a grey sedan descended overhead.

In a flanking maneuver, the car decelerated. Without warning, the doors cranked upward; two gun barrels poked down and out, to unleash a blue hail that tore through the Azarean uniforms. When the enemy lay bleeding on the ground, the random sedan accelerated out of the vicinity.

"Darkstar, you're all clear," said Monarch. "Did anyone else make it?"

"I don't know," he panted when a gun pressed his head.

"Drop your weapon, human."

The words echoed throughout the channel, for Dexter had his hand on the mic.

"An agent," he whispered.

Valerie dug her nails into the suede. "Did he say what I think he said?"

"Everyone, bail out now! Meet at the rendezvous!" Monarch ordered.

Despairing, forward in his seat to peer pensively at the sky, Raptor spoke in a hoarse and hushed tone. "I'll see you on the other side, Dex..."

"Not for a long time, I hope," he replied.

Jessica nearly tore her hair out. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Raptor ignored her, entreating Shannon with hard reality. "If we don't leave now, your friends are going to die." And Shannon's eyes burned in the rearview mirror. Reluctantly, she hit the pedal, and the car bolted forward.

"No!" Jessica cried. She pushed the door open, exposing herself to the rush, then immediately jumped from the safety of her seat and onto Superhighway 220. "McFly!"

"We are still transmitting the virus, Jess," Babel said.

In her race to the wreckage, every engine within twenty meters independently engaged. Every line of cars became a metallic ripple within a rising tide across the superhighway.

#

# 

# Chapter 17 The Woodsmen

Gun against his scalp, Dexter's feet rooted into the ground. The Azarean female loomed in the corner of his eye, a cold and calculating demeanor with no expression behind those glasses. She hadn't killed him yet, which could only mean one thing.

Despite the precarious situation, his thoughts were a loop of his last exchange with Jessica. Though it could have and probably should have been different, he was grateful.

A deafening bang accompanied a liquid sensation on his cheek. He flinched over his right shoulder, where the Azarean female collapsed. Meters away from her fallen body stood Ike, alive with a smoking barrel in his grasp.

"Run, shit-stain!" he yelled and commenced firing.

However, the second agent had begun a sprint. Too quick, he dodged the bullet and grabbed Ike's arm like a lunging viper. He shoved him and dented the hood of a car before tossing successive body shots the eye could barely follow. Ike somehow took the brunt of them before blocking his taller opponent and punching back.

The alien swiped the bruise off his face as if it were cosmetic.

Ike rolled off the hood of the car and set some distance between them. He then assumed a fighter's stance and wasted no time advancing. Rigorous breath escaped his every jab, but nothing made contact.

The Azarean dodged like a slippery worm, swerving out of his opponent's reach, no wasted motion. Ike tired himself into the Azarean's clutch. His entire body was lifted then slammed onto the roof of another car. Broken glass hit the street, and crooked cackling escaped his lungs.

In control of his nerves again, Dexter scrambled and picked up the dead agent's pistol. He lifted its holographic sights to the agent. Aware, the agent left Ike's bloody face on the car hood, stole his magnum from the ground, and pulled the trigger. All in the time it took to blink.

Dexter's pistol flew out of his hand; Ike's magnum burned into flecks, and before Dexter could even register the pain, the Azarean kicked him into the car behind him. Then, an arm fell on the agent's shoulder.

Ike heaved the Azarean's collar and tossed him onto the car hood, switching places. He accompanied his next flurry of punches with loud, begrudging groans.

***

Down the highway of scattered vehicles and scared citizens, Jessica skated, at high velocity, across numerous obstacles. She moved faster than the viral signal transmitting through Babel, which quickly transformed static traffic into a vehicular tide over the superhighway. Mid-focus, Monarch's voice returned.

"Asgard is splitting off! Without a specific target to follow, they're scrambling. Now's our best window: all units, disperse and meet up at the rendezvous. M72014."

Per Monarch's observation, the Asgard airships en route had abandoned their formation, to swerve in sundry directions. Like fledgling birds in the sky, they split their attention for every off-road car carrying potential suspects, and there were many.

"Dexter!" Jessica called, breaking near the fiery wreckage. She found her friend shaken, resting against the dented car door.

The agent was nearby, squaring off with Ike, Ike who had drawn a knife only to sweat bullets in front of his opponent. The fire in his eyes stemmed from fear.

"Jessica?" Dexter moaned. He was tiredly gawking from his sorry position, where surprise impeded his effort to rise. Jessica crouched and carefully wrapped his arm around her neck.

"We're leaving, Dex!"

"Now's your chance!" Ike shouted, and the enemy pinned him to the ground. He had no hope of escape then, no purpose aside from distraction.

Jessica wanted to help, to relieve Ike's bloody exhaustion. She was unwilling to push her luck, however, as the Azarean, without remorse, began beating Ike to death... The operative only managed to spit one last sentence.

"Get out of here, Dark!"

"That's not—"

"Hold on tight!" Jessica accelerated away from the conflict; Dexter's arms instinctively wrapped around her waist.

When they started their escape, the Azarean turned. Just one step in their direction and he suddenly stopped to groan in pain. Ike stabbed his leg with a piece of glass, drawing blood.

"Babel, engage!" A hum and green light underneath preceded their levitation off-road. Though the kickoff was subtle, it carried their combined weight into the sky. Fortunately, Shannon's vehicle was visible on the horizon.

"Jess, behind us!" Dexter warned.

She witnessed a car launch off the superhighway, speeding directly after them. All the worry in the world suddenly struck harder than the wind. Her heart pounded her chest, ready to drop. It pounded, and the car burst into flames. An implosion brought it spiraling down, and the tumultuous crash left nothing to the imagination.

Jessica goggled at the vehicle heap, pondering the cause of the blast. Since the ruins offered no explanation, she read Dexter's somber face. He shut his eyes.

"Run a scan of the superhighway, Babel." Magnified, infrared vision revealed a faint heat signature where they left Ike. And within seconds, the body heat gradually degraded into blue, like everything else.

Panning over the sky, Jessica cast anxiety to the wind. Nothing was chasing them beyond the city limits, where civilization surrendered to a forest. Surfing across the weightless expanse of blue, she trailed after Shannon's vehicle, which showed no signs of stopping. Furthermore, the extra passenger limited their speed. Dexter remained quiet throughout the flight, his heart beating at her back. She counted over a hundred beats per minute.

With the fear of being spotted, Jessica looked down at the seemingly endless sea of trees. Her friend's health was among the list of factors to consider. "Dexter!"

"Yea?"

"Do you know where the rendezvous is?"

His silent delay gave the answer before he did. "I just know it's in this general direction!"

"I'm going down!"

"What about the others?"

"They won't forget us!" She glanced back one last time, relieved by the clear horizon. "Hold on!"

Jessica fell to the lush canopy in a steady decline, a few branches threatening to smack them. When the ground came to so did a clear flowing stream that mirrored the pines, the blue dome. Over a hill, Dexter hopped down.

"But Doc!" Jessica landed several meters away then sprinted close.

"I'm alright!" he remonstrated.

"Are you sure? Because I think you hit your head on a falling car."

"Yea, I know, Jess. I was there... So was Ike."

Jessica stared daggers at his attitude, then warily paced several feet away. Nothing but rows upon rows of bark and shrub lay ahead. "Something else got you irritated?" she asked. "I haven't heard 'Thank you for saving me, Jessica'."

His silence was instructive.

Back around, she watched him squat upright, inhale, and huff. His brow furrowed in either resentment or sickness. Unclear until he spoke.

"It was a bad idea coming after me. It just wasn't—There was no way you could have predicted the end result on that highway. That was pure luck, and you're lucky to be alive."

"Maybe," Jessica replied, fist tightening.

"No. No maybe!" He stomped up to her, the gulp in his neck apparent. "There were two agents, Jessica, and the whole thing was a clear shitstorm, meaning you could have gotten killed. That's all. And it wouldn't have been worth it, you know that? You're here because you're needed, not me. So, no more stupid decisions."

Jessica couldn't calculate her words. Instead, acid welled in her gut and made them spill out of her mouth.

"Listen, you ignorant slut, you want to know what's stupid? It's thinking you had to sacrifice yourself for a clean getaway. Tell me, honestly, was martyrdom your first thought after hitting your head?"

Dexter leered. "What the hell else was I going to do? It was the right thing."

"Don't talk to me about the right way. There's smart, moronic, and then there're variables. Even if Beelz and Dissent weren't perfectly capable, even if Monarch didn't have an intervention plan, even if Ike wasn't sneaking up on NSS before you clumsily drew their attention, even if I didn't transmute the GPS monitoring signal, the one factor that wasn't going to change anything was you dying, moron.

"And you're right, I didn't qualify the agents as a risk! The one thing I did know before I made my stupid decision was that I had to save my friend! But if you have a problem with that, fine! Now, I know. Stupid or not, though"—she closed the remaining distance between them—"you don't get to fucken tell me who I can and cannot save."

She stormed from Dexter's sight, down the hill, to huff and groan at a nearby creek. A strong desire to break something slammed her foot on the ground. "Idiot..." And mulling over the water in languid silence, the reflection was plagued by memories of Beth. She resisted the flashes again, unable to cope at a moment's notice.

Deep breaths.

Eventually, she heard Dexter's footsteps. If one more stupid utterance escaped his stupid mouth, she would jog past the water and find Sub Terra on her own. Already, she deliberated on Valerie and Shannon's whereabouts.

"Thanks for saving me, Jessica."

Her angsty frown slowly uplifted into a sly smirk, and her fingers came together like a conniving villain. Her chakras aligned and helped sedate the trembling frustration. Halfway on the path to satisfaction, she turned around with a canted grin. "Okay! Let's get the hell out of here."

Dexter's brow jerked. "Uh, okay, where are we going?"

"If you don't know, I don't know, but it's better to run than to wait for Elsa, don't cha think? By the way, why Elsa?"

"Because space-elves are ice cold and need more sun, yea."

"Tell me about it." She smirked. "Later, perhaps, when we're not in danger."

"That might be a while."

Jessica and Dexter trudged up the next hill, navigating terrain seemingly untouched by civilization. Not a soul in sight, not a strand or hint of man-made mechanisms infringed upon the slithers of leaves. Only solitude.

Stranger to the wilderness, Jessica had no clue what to expect. The novelty of their surroundings was almost tangible enough to rub the skin. The sun's descent envisioned a spiraling shift in the scenery. New traits came in the iridescence of local flora. Deeper into the region, the undulating shades morphed from cool greens to warm reds and yellows while the unrecognizable trees embalmed a sense of mystery no thinner than the air they breathed—which almost seemed alien. Never had she laid eyes on so many wreaths of nature.

Eventually, they came to a halt, and Jessica circled until she made eye contact with Dexter. One look at his clueless face helped her accept the fact that they were lost. Thus, she peered beyond the canopy to isolate the position of the sun. All the hours on delivery helped her memorize the direction of its rays during each hour. Unfortunately, nothing along the way clued them on the rendezvous. No sign, no car, no Shannon, no Valerie, and no jerk.

"You have no idea where we're going, do you, Dex?"

"Nope." He sighed.

"Okay. What do you know?"

He shrugged and wiped his glossy face with a leaf. "Just that it's somewhere up north. I think I overheard Monarch, actually, give this very cryptic sentence for the coordinates: 'On the highway out of hell, beware the energizer bunny.' But, I figure if there was any clue about the rendezvous, I would have seen it by now. Sub Terra's got hideouts in different places. Only ones I know of are in the city. So, no one leads everyone; no one knows everything. It's all very secretive. Has to be. And I'm just a small cog they wouldn't keep in the loop."

"Energizer bunny out of hell?" Jessica pursed her lips, shut her eyes, and imagined a rabbit beating a drum out of a circle of fire. "When did you join Sub Terra?"

Dexter snickered. "Not long after we graduated."

"You're not the type."

"No, I'm not."

"You wouldn't even hurt a Cazador."

Dexter lifted polite eyes. "And when did you"—swirling his hand around her figure— "when did you start all this?"

"Really? You're just noticing that I cut my hair?"

"Nnnno. Stop messing with me!"

Jessica smiled through her teeth.

"What exactly have you been up to?"

"Now's not the time, Dex. We have to keep moving." She walked ahead of him.

"The hell?" his voice cracked. "You started this!"

Further, into the unknown, the two wanderers paused atop a leafy hill. Jessica fastened her goggles to scan for clues. Approximately an hour had passed since they made landfall, so if Shannon and Valerie had stopped, they might approach from the opposite direction. However, while Jessica had no doubt her friends would search for her, she was unsure about Raptor. In the middle of that thought, her scan revealed movement in the bushes.

"I think I see someone."

"Really?" Dexter whispered.

"Yea. Hold on."

A searingly loud crash broke the silence of the forest, fading into a distant echo.

Jessica hit the floor, under Dexter's arm, left to ponder the origin of the gunshot. Breathless, she stared from the empty green to her friend's dilating brown eyes. He was quick but not that quick. The bullet hit the nearby tree well before they could duck, so her eyes wandered from Dexter's nervousness to the rising leaf pile behind him.

"Dex!" Swiftly, she sprung up and tackled the figure. It evoked a feminine moan that persisted into the ensuing ground wrestle. The camouflaged hood came down, to reveal a white face and blonde hair.

"Jess!" yelled Dexter

As Jessica pinned the stranger's wrists, she peered into the blue eyes of a young girl. Those eyes glared with adolescent fury.

"Jessica!"

She sat on the girl's stomach, but when she dared to look up found herself surrounded by hoodies in camouflage. A painful gut compression flung her back to the ground, after which the girl crawled back and rose, but not before picking up her hunting rifle.

"Get up!" She cocked her gun at Jessica.

Reluctantly, Jessica followed the pissy girl's command and noted every stranger's finger snug on the triggers of their outdated weapons. She slowly reached for the sky, like Dexter. But in glancing from the guns to the blonde, she based her next act on experience with difficult Tacquizza customers.

"Was geht ab? Es tut uns leid. Ich weiß nicht, was los ist, aber ich spreche kein Englisch."

Dexter squinted.

"Who are you!" barked one of the jackets.

"Aussehen! Es war nur ein Spiel! Naaa?"

One of their detainers relieved Dexter of his pistol then frisked the rest of him, while the blonde girl began checking Jessica's entire body, using her hands. Few comparisons could be made to the sensations that followed. Jessica withheld the urge to yelp as her jeans and shirt kneaded her skin. More disconcerting, the girl found her R2-D2 drive and tried to sniff it.

"What is this?" she spat.

"Mein anale Sonde."

"Not answering, huh?"

The armed adolescent stashed the flash drive in her pocket. Then, she forcefully removed Jessica's backpack and began carelessly tossing out the contents. Jessica inwardly seethed. The reality of the situation started to sink in. Her tablet, thrown aside; her RWBY T-shirt, thrown aside; her dignity, thrown aside.

"What is this?" The girl dangled an unused tampon in Jessica's face.

Jessica cringed so hard her legs nearly buckled. "You've got to be kidding me."

"So, you do know English!"

Oh, my God, she just tricked me.

Dexter awkwardly and actively diverted his gaze from her general direction – His eyes rolled up while he whistled.

Jessica pleaded very seriously. "I know we've just met and are a long way off from being BFFs, but can you ask them to put their guns down."

"Maybe, if you bring down the sarcasm," the girl replied.

"Touché. Sounds like a plan. Can I have my drive back?"

But the blonde waved the tampon in Jessica's face, once more. "Are you going to tell me what this is or not?"

"My God... Do you live under a roc—you know what, you probably do. No judgment. Do I even wanna know how y—I don't, actually. That's an easy one. Oh, boy, my mind's on autopilot. It's in my head. Oh, no..."

A man angling a double-barrel shotgun stepped closer. "What are you doing out here?" he said. Not only was his voice throaty, but it also had an accent. Very rustic.

He sounds like a hillbilly.

"Probably better for everyone if we don't answer that," said Dexter, stepping forward. But a gun stock hit the back of his knee, and he fell with a guttural moan.

"No, worse for you if ya don't," replied the man with the shotgun, lowering his hood. He had a middle-aged mug with brown facial hair greying down his entire jawline. "Yer from the city, which means yer only business here is bad business. And bad business can only lead to bad business."

"We're not here because we want to be," said Jessica.

"And I promise we're not here to be hostile," Dexter added. "Or to be spies or some random crap."

The older man, impatient, frowned. "You have three seconds..."

Jessica held her hands out. "Everybody, just be cool!"

"Be very, very cool," said Raptor.

Out of nowhere, flanked by Valerie and Shannon, Raptor leveled his pistol at their leader. Her friends were armed as well, but while Valerie appeared very confident through her specs, Shannon looked very nervous.

The mysterious man steered his shotgun to Raptor. "I say you're outnumbered," he warned. "And so long as you're in these woods, there's nowhere to run."

Raptor eyed the man intently, gently lowering his pistol. "What is above and below the view of a sane moon?"

At those words, the man with the shotgun raised his brow. "A mountain of madness," he answered, lifting the barrel. His followers took after him, and, sure enough, the tension withered.

Pieces of the puzzle came together. These people in the woods knew Sub Terra, and Raptor's cryptic message meant they were in the know, as it were. Another mystery but one that let Jessica breathe easy.

"I am Gideon," said the leader, helping Dexter to his feet. "And these are the Woodsmen... and women. This is my niece, Danielle. Dani." He pointed to the blonde, frowny teenager.

She waved.

"Welcome to our neck of the woods. See, anything you can find in the city you won't find here. There's no fancy techs nor wireless waifus. We're off the grid, as the city fool says."

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# Chapter 18 Listen, Cyberwhore!

Evening crawled near with their every step into the forest. Gideon kept Jessica's gravity board on his person. She got the flash drive back, but his argument for keeping the rest of her stuff was that he had to inspect everything sinister, even though Danielle had already done as much. Feeling naked, tired, and helpless, all she could do was catch pockets of the leader's conversation with Raptor.

"Glad we got to you when we did," he said.

"Inclined to agree." Gideon snorted then dropped a ball of spit on the ground. "We ain't blind, though. See, only visitors we get are ones lookin' fer trouble. That or a lost lamb, once in a while. The only reason we didn't shoot yer friends is 'cause they're not aliens, far as I can tell."

Jessica steered from the conversation to Shannon. "Where'd you guys leave the car?"

"In a place that's hidden, I hope," she said, and her brow twisted. "Hey... I wanted to stop for you, but my foot was so hard on the gas pedal I didn't realize until grumpy told me we couldn't stop. The only reason we landed is because he said radar and patrols would detect us. Between you and me, though, I don't think he knows where we're going."

"You'd think oblivion was genetic... And it's okay. We found—well, you found us, and it got us out of a bind." Jessica caught Danielle staring, specifically at her watch.

"Who are these people, anyway?" started Dexter, looking at Valerie next to him.

Her eye cocked. "Hmm? What? You and your brother not talk or something?"

"Talk? Yes. Communicate? Not very much."

"Monarch occasionally sends peeps to trade with these peeps calling themselves Woodsmen. They don't exactly like technology, mmkay? Which means they don't network much, mmkay? We give 'em the supplies that help 'em survive, secretly. Even those old-school stockpiles."

"Was wondering why their armor looked familiar..."

"Same Sicario Suit."

"So, I have you to thank for the guns they pointed at me? Thanks," said Jessica.

"In return," Valerie resumed, staring Dexter down, "the Woodsmen feed us intel in morse code... and other shit. Mira, cabrón, I don't know everything."

One Woodsman side-stepped next to Jessica and her friends. Before he could startle them, he spoke spitefully. "It's because we avoid that alien garbage that we've lasted one-hundred years. Ma and Pa didn't need it; Grandma and grandpa didn't need it; I don't need it."

Jessica smirked. "I do applaud your independence, sir. I guess you haven't run out of salt after one-hundred years?"

"No, we haven't."

"Drone!" someone shouted

Gideon hit the floor. "Hide!"

Confused, Jessica faceplanted the dirt. Every other soul flung to cover and camouflage. As they snuck behind bark, shrub, and rock, an oblong machine gravitated through the thickets. Its shimmering carapace brought a subtle hum in its wake, as it waded through the shrubs. Easily, it could carve the terrain with its sharp trio of composite tendrils. Instead, its onboard reticle rolled in a glass eye, surveying the vicinity. Any lower and it might have isolated Gideon's head underneath.

Jess clenched her teeth as it bobbed mid-air, the rolling camera difficult to predict. Inconspicuously, she illuminated her Vambrace. Violet light ignited from her arm, inviting the attention of nearby Woodsmen as the drone loomed over Gideon's head. Gideon had his finger on the shotgun trigger.

The drone stopped, seemingly from a malfunction, but it was still bobbing mid-air. Seconds later, it rose several meters higher, turned, and gravitated in the opposite direction. The yawning hiss of its propulsion faded into silence, gone before someone else could break a sweat.

Just as the calm settled, Danielle forcefully pulled and thrust Jessica's hand into the air.

"Hey!"

"She's a glower! One of them!" barked Danielle.

"It's true!" said a Woodsman. "We saw her call one of the arms!"

What happened next started with Gideon, followed by Dexter, Raptor, and the rest of The Woodsmen. Everyone pointed their gun at someone.

Jessica jerked back. "I'm not whatever you think I am!"

"Bullshit!" exclaimed Dani, pupils penetrating her rifle sights.

"The hell's the meaning of this, Sub Terra?" Gideon grumbled, gunning for Raptor's face. "If that's who yer really with..."

"Show us what you just did, Jessica!"

Valerie swerved her barrel back and forth. "Stop throwing your fucking erections around, first off!"

Thankfully, Shannon interrupted as the voice of reason.

"Yo! She saved us, all of you, with what she just did, okay. I don't know what it was, but Jessica isn't capable of the sick and twisted treachery y'all accuse her of!"

And she saved me!" Dexter affirmed. "From suicide by alien."

"She's an asset to Sub Terra," Raptor said matter-of-factly.

"If you can all just cool it," Jessica swallowed, "Babel won't do a thing to any of you!" Before anything else, before everyone else, Danielle butted her weapon into Jessica's calve, and Jessica hit the ground.

"Listen, cyberwhore—"

Dexter pressed his pistol to Danielle's head. Tension burned in his breath. "Whatever you do to her, I do to you," he said. Though fury lived in his gaze, Danielle's bore resolve.

"I'm okay with that," she said.

'I'm okay with that'? Really?

"Dani, no!" said Gideon. "You don't make that call, missy!"

Danielle peered over her shoulder, conflict in her eyes – The longer she stared, the more her grip loosened. A buzz later, the rifle fell from her grasp, and she collapsed into a seizure.

Jessica pushed Dani off and stood on two feet, shaking off the taser glove. She almost made the mistake of patting Dexter with the same voltage.

"I know what it looks like!" she told Gideon, while Danielle spasmed in the background. "Do Azareans use holo-tools? Yes. Yes, they do."

Spasm.

"Am I an Azarean? No, I am not."

Spasm.

"Am I party to the Azarean cause in some way? Hell no!"

Spasm.

"My equipment happens to be similar to theirs," she continued, while Gideon blankly stared at Dani's unconscious seizure. "This hologram you saw. Babel on!" Her Vambrace ignited, causing The Woodsmen to back away in hot suspicion. "I made him, with a lot of help."

"Him?" said Gideon.

With so many guns and lives on the line, Jessica decided to stick to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. "Babel is an artificial intelligence."

"Ain't no such thing as sacrificial intelligence."

"What?"

"Artificial," Babel humbly interrupted. "My software is infused with cognitive processing mimetic to humans. I am capable of eclectic reasoning and solving complex tasks, but it was Jess who installed empathy into my core programming. That and sarcasm. As you can see, it doesn't work very well."

"What he said," said Jessica.

Gideon lowered his shotgun. "Just say that next time, missy!" The Woodsmen, along with Raptor, Shannon, and Valerie, also lowered their weapons. The leader nonchalantly walked right past Jessica, squatted, and lifted Danielle. When he arose, his smirk rayed across the group. "So long as we keep it 100 from here on, we'll be okay."

"That's it?" asked Shannon.

Gideon turned with Danielle's slumped body. "Yes, that's it. Ya got one of those computer intelligences with ya? Fine. Like I said, we don't have no technology susceptible to your waifu chicanery. Those Azareans, on one hand, that there Bobble will really screw 'em. Pointy-eared bastards...

"Only thing I don't like about yer astronomical intelligence is the accent. Not crazy about Irish."

"'Tis British," said Babel, "which is quite non-specific."

Very casually, The Woodsmen took after Gideon and proceeded into the forest, toward their original destination. Raptor trod alongside his younger brother.

"Put your gun away, Dexter."

Dexter broke from his absent stare to notice his hands."Right."

Meanwhile, Valerie and Shannon checked Jessica.

"Okay, homegirl, it's nice to see you're still full of surprises, but they're really starting to scare me," said Valerie.

"And why do you wait until we're literally staring death in the face to tell us things!" said Shannon.

"As cliché as it sounds," Jessica sighed, "I wouldn't tell you guys things that would literally put your lives at risk. See that, Shannon? I correctly used the word 'literally'."

"I love you, Babygirl, but you make me wanna punch a puppy, sometimes. Like when you dropped out of a moving car."

"Yea..."

Raptor stepped in the middle of their conversation. "We have a lot to discuss before we can find the rendezvous," he said. "Let's keep up with Gideon's group for now." When he motioned them forward, Valerie and Shannon followed. Dexter dallied in defeat. He endeavored to lose the pessimistic crease on his forehead until Jessica stepped near his personal space and poked his shoulder.

"Hey!" she whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Stop looking so depressed!"

The boy took a deep breath before his lips curled from a frown to a grin, an improvement reflected in his eyes. Jessica walked off, knowing he would follow.

Under the evening rim, at long last, Jessica, her friends, and the Woodsmen arrived at their destination. They found a shabby, old ranger outpost surrounded by cedars and draped in leaves. Little more than a series of dilapidated beams and old towers. Closer inspection revealed a network of metal barricades and trench networks.

Indescribably, a sensation of an invisible presence motioned toward the greater labyrinth of the forest.

Gideon strolled up to the ruin, Danielle still slumped over his shoulder. With the tip of his foot, he tapped around a leaf patch until the hollow drum of metal resonated. Scattering the leaves revealed a cellar door; he stood silently by as two woodsmen lifted the handles. A series of concrete steps disappeared into a hollow space.

"I'm noticing recurring abstract imagery here," said Shannon.

Gideon stared over his shoulder. "Are you noticing hospitality?" With the golden hour done, the leader of the Woodsmen led the way down. His men stood guard, waiting for their guests to step below.

Shannon paused. "It's as if the darkness just keeps landing in front of us, this ominous representation of personal fate: indomitable, impalpable, and we are impassive to it. Like Yin without Yang."

Silence.

Hand on her chin, Jessica placed Shannon into her contemplative crosshairs. Thinking about it, her girlfriend's sixth sense never steered them awry. For the most part, Shannon was a premonitory cookie.

"Hmmm..."

"Don't let vague signs tell you how to live your life, girl," said Valerie. "If you don't go with the flow, you get blown away, and we're being blown away."

"Hmmm..."

Jessica entered the cellar, then Dexter, then Valerie, then Raptor, and Shannon last. Their entry preceded candle auras in the pitch black. With a flicker, Gideon lit another, then another, and another. In no time, the furnishings of an antiquated lounge shaped before them.

Newfound visibility landed everyone on a hardwood floorboard furnished with tables. Some stools lined a bar countertop, behind which rested a marvelous rack decorated by shot glasses and bottles in every shape and size. Two adjacent sofas lay within reach—one of which comforted Danielle's splayed body as she slept. This half of the interior was reserved for leisure. The other half, the back, housed several crates, and gallons of water. Jessica found it exceedingly unremarkable until her eyes wandered to the scattered Christmas decorations. "How very Anglo," she remarked.

Gideon unfurled a map and pinned it to the center of the round table with a knife. He offered a chair to Raptor, and as the operative approached, he gestured for everyone else to sit on the available couch. He tossed Jessica's gravity board to her. "Skater girl!"

Jessica caught the board. "Ja?"

"You seem to be the brains. Have a seat."

"How formal and abnormal." She looked back, noted Woodsmen guarding the entrance, then casually accepted one of three seats. Scrunching between Raptor and the vacant seat, their knees nearly touched his. Meanwhile, Gideon strolled over to the bar and procured a bottle and three glasses, which made Jessica wince.

"Y'all can take a seat and park it," Gideon reiterated, staring at Jessica's friends. The three of them casually waited by the sofa, hesitant.

Awkwardly, Jessica's gaze meandered to the animal heads on display behind the counter. She then turned to her friends on the sofa. Anxious mugs, albeit Dexter had a twinkle in his eyes. A thud later, she found Gideon parked next to her. Lazily, he eyed the lot of them before starting.

"Why are the pointy ears after ya?"

Raptor emptied his handgun chamber then lay it flat on the table. "Goliath doesn't like people who rock the boat, or armed organizations who threaten their proud infrastructure."

"Besides that."

"Caught them in a lie," said Jessica.

"Ha! Which one?"

"Which one should we discuss?"

"It's the kind of secret that keeps us on our toes, wherever we go," Raptor returned. "So, you probably don't want us in your house a second longer than necessary."

Gideon's deep blue eyes grinned then rolled between both guests. "Where're my manners?" He stared past Jessica and directly at Valerie, Shannon, and Dexter. "Wouldja like somethin' to kill yer dehydration?"

"Whatever you got," said Shannon. "I would ask for something light on the calories, but the hell with it, know what I mean?"

"Anything sealed," said Valerie.

Dexter thought carefully. "What do you have?"

Gideon stood from his chair. "Shoot, what do I have?"

After a brief inventory inspection, Gideon returned from his rack holding a particularly large bottle. Naturally, it came with three more shot glasses. He distributed these to Jessica's friends before tossing the first bottle over to his subordinates by the entrance. A few popped caps later, he sat down and set one jar on the table, from which he proceeded to fill Jessica and Raptor's glasses.

I knew I didn't like where this was going.

"They say alcohol distills honesty!" Gideon said ceremoniously. "Makes for the perfect drink between strangers, wouldn't cha say?"

"What about underage strangers?" said Jessica.

"What? You 'fraid some alien's gonna come in the middle of the night, stuff you into a room, and punish you for under-age drinking?"

"Among other things..."

"If this'll get us where we need to be," said Raptor, examining his glass.

Jessica pensively brought it to her mouth, but the powerful scent made her slam it back down, gagging.

"It's just moonshine!" said Gideon. "It ain't gonna bite. Might kill you, but it ain't gonna bite."

Jessica breathed. "It's like inhaling poison with a side of poison!"

"No need to exaggerate."

"My scan indicates a 75.7% alcoholic volume," said Babel.

"No one asked yer robot's opinion. Drink! And don't forget to breathe, missy. It's very important."

As Jessica planted herself on the chair, she peeked at Raptor and saw the empty glass beneath his chin. She had no idea how he did it, but as soon as he looked up at her, he cracked his first-ever grin. The world turned upside down, and Gideon locked his gaze on her. Accepting fate, Jessica breathed through her mouth, wrapped precision fingers around the glass, and sipped.

She coughed all over the place. Shannon even ran over to help when she seemed ready to unload on the floor. In a stunning recovery, however, Jessica sat back down and waved Shannon away. "Go drink your own poison," she rasped.

Moments later, perfectly composed, the girl sat upright with a crooked smirk.

Gideon glared past her. "Y'all aren't drinkin'. Wouldja prefer some moonshine?" When he waved the bottle, Valerie, Dexter, and Shannon gulped down their glasses and replied respectively:

"Con esto estoy bien, senor,"

"No, whiskey is fine, thanks."

"I'm cool, man."

"And I am incapable of consumption," said Babel.

"He wasn't talking to you," said Jessica.

"Then, like the rest of the room, you can forget I am here."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "I guess someone's feeling talkative."

"I detect no Azareans nearby, therefore no risk."

"Then why didn't you talk when we were alone in the forest, earlier?"

"Dexter was present, and by monitoring your heart rate I deduced that—"

"Hahahahaha!" Jessica clasped her watch. "Run a diagnostic, Babel, and shut up while you do it."

"You done?" Gideon said.

"Ye..."

"Now, where were we?"

"We were formulating a hypotenuse through the wilderness, ideally one that circumnavigates urban centers. While I may—can hack monitoring installations throughout Azareans zones of control, the gambit is getting from point A to point B while maintaining zero-grade notoriety, thus keeping your people and our people out of the government's proverbial crosshairs. Beyond point B, we'll work with the underground to mass-distribute information centripetal and detrimental to the alien indoctrination scheme, thereby rocking the foundations of the Union and their cyberinfrastructure. Only then will people lose faith in their regime, and we can effectively supplant their epistemological violence."

Silence.

Smugly smiling, Gideon fingered the jar of moonshine. "What I tell ya? Don't know what she just said, but I think the case is closed."

"We have to get to our people, the quickest way possible, the stealthiest way possible," said Raptor. "Maybe, you can help us."

Silently, Gideon crossed back to the rack and returned with another bottle. "Here's some chaser," he said, refilling Raptor's glass. All the while, a quiet groan rose from the sofa.

Danielle was waking up.

When Raptor and Gideon began discussing the next steps in their plan, Jessica noticed the girl search the pockets of her camo coat.

"Psst."

Danielle stared at the next sofa. "Looking for this?" said Valerie, dangling a 9-millimeter.

Danielle jumped out of the cushions and reached for her weapon. She almost took Valerie by surprise, but Valerie held the pistol out of reach as Dexter and Shannon quickly pinned blondie against the couch.

"That's enough, Dani!" said Gideon. The girl froze in place, making nervous eye contact with her uncle. "Quit the hasslin' and sittown. We're having a discussion."

Danielle crossed her arms, huffed, and fell back on the sofa to brood to herself.

Warily, Jessica steered from Dani's woeful glare to Gideon's.

"I know that look. Don't mind her," he said. "You'd be prone to anger, too, if yer parents were abducted by aliens."

Jessica scratched her scalp. "What does that mean?"

"See, Danielle's mother, my sister, was one hell of a tracker. I suppose she found somethin' that took her out over yonder, past the normal places we scratch in the woods. She took the husband, and Danielle followed. See, Dani inherited their sneakiness but not their luck."

"Uncle Gideon..."

"Don't gimme that look, Dani." He returned to his guests, red-eyed. "Both her parents were none-the-wiser when she went after 'em. She saw it all. And as she tells it, they found somethin'. Somethin' big. A bright light in the middle of the woods came and took 'em. No one seen 'em since.

"I looked. Took the next best trackers we had and found nothing, and they kept looking even after I stopped askin'... In the months, in the year that followed, we found nothing."

Danielle's face was a tired trench of resentment and depression recognizable at a glance. Back to her shot glass, Jessica peered through its transparent surface then took a sip. She remembered what it was and immediately set it back down.

"I guess the light couldn't have been anything but the Azareans?" she said. "Makes this fight pretty personal, I suppose?"

Gideon peered right through her but said nothing.

At a loss, Jessica's words tumbled out of her mouth. "At least she had an uncle..." The words came out more shaken than she anticipated. Perhaps she drank too much.

Pensively, Gideon took his time refilling her glass with moonshine and soda. "It is what it is," he said, then refilled Raptor's glass. "There are some nooks in the forest the aliens don't know to go, places just happen to lead to yer Sub Terra home yer so eager to find. I know where it is."

Upon pulling the knife from the map, Gideon tipped the edge on a specific point. "Can take you at dawn if it pleases you. Danielle knows the way."

"I don't know about that, uncle," the niece said nervously.

"Take their company and maybe they'll take some of yer bitterness with 'em. Our city rebels will get theirs so we can survive. We're isolated, which has its benefits, sure, but if you keep to yerself long enough, you forget chur friends when you see 'em."

"We all need friends," said Raptor, taking another swig of moonshine, "especially now. There's no rest for the wicked, so why the enemy?"

"Funny," Jessica chuckled, "the Azarean standard of living seems unrivaled on paper, but I don't see quality to life when it's expendable at the rate of a heartbeat, subtracting life's beat."

"That moonshine's hitting you hard, missy," started Gideon, "I do hope yers beats long enough to give the pale necks their due. You gonna use some of that old metal medicine, ain'tcha? You and that Bobble." Turning to Raptor—"And you'll remind yer brass that we're still out here."

"Over a hundred years and counting," replied Raptor, stuck on the ceiling. "We might never win, you know..."

Jessica's brain paused the moment like a freeze frame, attentive to the glint in Raptor's eyes. "I think it depends on your definition of winning," she told him.

"Exactly," said Gideon. "Even if yer not around long enough to see the end, victory is a lit torch."

"Which will count for nothing if we don't get it to its lamp," Raptor said hoarsely. "I think it's about time we turn in. That way we start early, tomorrow."

"Yeap." Gideon stood up. Jessica heard nothing but footsteps after that, background noise to a series of future simulations streaming through her head until they hit a solid bank.

"Jess..." Dexter shook her out of her thoughts. "You alright?" he said. She looked at his youthful mug. What would she have done if he had died? The image of Pine Rim and Beth still rocked her psyche and occasionally crept into her sense.

"I'm cool."

"Jimmy!" Gideon called. A scruffily-bearded Woodsman appeared atop the cellar door. "Take the boys to the stockpile." Then he turned to Valerie directly behind him. "You'll be sleeping in the old yard. Dani'll take ya."

"What?" Danielle blurted.

"Watch 'em, guard 'em, and be a host. I know what chur gonna say, and no, you don't have to like it." As Gideon stepped out of the cellar, Danielle stormed up after him. Jessica and her friends quickly followed but only found their place in the dark because of how loudly Danielle protested.

***

At the sound of high-pitched whines, Jessica and her friends found Danielle's frown carved by the lantern's light. The girl stopped, for a second, if for no other reason than to leer at them. "This way," she said before stomping off.

"I would ask what her deal is, but I get it," said Shannon.

"Yea, me too," Jessica mumbled.

"She reminds me of somebody that I used to know," added Valerie. "That girl changed. She became a little less lonely, a little less enojada, and a lot more..."

"She hasn't spent much time around people her age," Gideon said, halting next to them.

"It's actually an overrated experience," Jess sighed.

"For you, maybe, but you had your pick of the litter. Somethin' worked in yer case. She never even had the chance."

Gideon walked off, gesturing for the two brothers to follow. Dexter had a farewell glance for Jessica and her friends. Mostly Jessica. "Up and early tomorrow. Have a good night, and..." His eyes rolled upward in contemplating what to say.

"So, you're not joining us?" Jessica joked then smiled to mask her regret.

"Ask him again when you're safe in home territory," Raptor remarked. "Alone and in private."

Dexter stared daggers at his older brother.

"Just have a good night," said Jessica.

"Good night," he said back.

"Good night," she whispered.

Dani yelled, "Hurry up, city girl!"

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# Chapter 19 Cruel Summer

Crickets in a forest dimly lit by lanterns. On the trees, on the ruins, every pale ember cast a small glow to the endless sea of silhouettes. Jessica, Valerie, and Shannon followed the contemptuously silent niece of the leader of The Woodsmen. Danielle guided them with her kerosene lantern, guard Jimmy to the rear, while the girls surveyed their surroundings in curiosity. Jessica decided to prod.

"You see bears out here?"

Silence.

"No bears? Okay."

"What about ghosts?" said Shannon. "Weird shit that goes bump in the night? Azareans ever bother you?"

Silence.

"Your uncle seems cool, at least," said Valerie. "Does he let you drink? That's probably all I would do if I were living out here. If yes, don't say anything."

Danielle stopped in her tracks. "No, I just shoot things."

"Same! High-five..."

Danielle scowled over her shoulder, leaving Valerie to hang as she stepped off.

Jessica placed her goggles, spotted the run-down manor in their direction. It looked older than anything in the modern world. "Are we going to that house from the History Channel?"

"What are you talking about?" Danielle stammered.

"That old ass house in front of us."

"How the hell..." Danielle looked back, saw the goggles, and scoffed, "Yes."

They trod around the back of the ancient structure, leaving the front door alone, came upon yet another cellar hatch. It may have been their only option since the house looked like it was made of cards.

"You can take a break, Jimmy. Have a good night," Dani said.

"Ma'am." And the Woodsman tipped his hat.

Opening the cellar door, Danielle motioned her guests inward. They could see nothing, hear nothing, and fear plenty, except Jessica. Her lenses highlighted the stairs.

"Not ominous at all."

"I know this movie," said Shannon. "This is the part where the dumb white girl gets chainsawed by the man in the ugly mask. I'm the comic relief, so, naturally, someone has to go before me. Valerie..."

"Ni madre. El que tiene mas anos se va primera. Adelante, vieja."

Tired of protests, Jessica set foot on the stairs. At the bottom, an upsurge of delight quelled the eeriness and made her beam. The room was littered with old-world widgets, knick-knacks, and crap. Compelled by curiosity, she sped to the nearest pile and started digging.

"What do you see, Babel?"

"Scans show non-contemporary perishables and, what some might describe as, garbage."

"One man's garbage is a woman's treasure. Why does that sound weird?" Things went black, the goggles suddenly gone from her head.

"What nonsense are you spoutin'?" said Danielle, pressing the lenses against her face.

Jessica calmly reclaimed the goggles from her clutches. "Different worlds..."

"I can't see shit!" said Valerie.

"Ugh!" Danielle's stomps overtook the room, ending when the light of a lone fire appeared in the center. She tipped the candle in her hand to light a hanging lantern, which revealed a rocking chair underneath. She lit another candle, then another, and another. Several flickers later, the entire basement was visible. The shabby interior contained wondrous piles.

Danielle set the candle on a nearby drawer. "Do all girls in the city throw hissy fits over dumb things?" A question Valerie, Shannon, and Jessica answered together.

"Maybe." "Sometimes." "Yes."

"How do you deal with yerselves?"

"Fudge brownie ice cream," said Jess. "City food is amaze-balls. Unless you're vegan, I suppose. Although, I did have vegan ceviche once, and it was undeniably great."

"Not gonna lie," started Shannon, inhaling the room, "I've always wondered what it would be like living alone in the forest."

"I ain't alone," Danielle scolded.

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Whatever..."

Shannon sauntered over to Jess, who dug deeper into the strange pile. Together, they found little of use but plenty of curiosities: VCRs, a rusted printer, round hats, old-brand shoes, weights, perfume bottles, a paperback book the likes of which nobody had seen before, followed by a smartphone whose name Shannon tried to read. "...Phone 7," she muttered. "This is broken garbage."

"Hey, this old Samsung turned on," said Jessica. "Dude, are these flip phones!"

Danielle arrived and stole Jessica's phone. The girl grumbled over to the nearby rocking chair, sat down, and rocked with the rifle on her lap. When Jessica and Shannon stared overlong, she spoke softly. "This is the stuff we were made of before ET came."

"What is ET?" said Valerie, inspecting a Walkman.

"It's 'The story that touched the world,' a film directed by Steven Spielberg," said Jessica.

"God. Do you know everything or just pull random facts out of your ass?"

"It says right here on the box." Jessica held up a VHS case with the title ET.

"Huh... What else is in there?"

"Whatever techs was around more than a hundred years ago," Dani muttered.

Jessica heard the resignation in the girl's voice, so she paused from digging. Under normal circumstances, the pile of vintage items would swell her excitement and nostalgia levels. But instead of enthusiasm, she felt a gnawing void.

"This stuff is amazing, but I'm not that excited. Why is that, Valerie?"

Homegirl shrugged, face pucked. "A week ago, maybe. A week ago...."

"Hey." Shannon beckoned them close. She had an unsolved Rubik's cube in her hand. "Check this out." She began solving the portable puzzle as Jessica tentatively watched. In a minute, she successfully arranged all six colors.

"Not bad," said Jessica. "I haven't seen one of these since..." It was one of the first gifts from dad. "It's been a while. I think my record was six or seven seconds."

"You're a liar," Dani said spitefully. "I ain't never solved one of those."

Shannon grinned at Jessica. "You hear that?"

"I heard it."

Shannon reconfigured the Rubik's cube and randomized the color patterns, then she placed the puzzle in the palm of Jessica's hand. Jessica rotated the cube, precision irises scanning all sides. Slowly she trod over to Danielle, and as she did so twisted the puzzle pieces before her eyes.

"Done."

From her seat, Dani blinked in disbelief. She grabbed hold of the puzzle to closely inspect the results for herself. Every side was a flat color. "Is that all? Show me again. You did something."

Jessica smirked. "Yea, I did. I solved it."

"Hmmm." Danielle twisted the cube until the colors were random again. To be certain, she twisted the rows for a long period, tensing her fingers as if that would complicate the puzzle. "Okay," she said, pushing the cube into Jessica's gut, "ain't no tricks now."

Again, Jessica inspected all sides. Danielle's scowl was intense. This time, Jessica decided on a new pattern before returning the cube. Blondie's face lit up in victory, but a frown quickly reformed. The colors came in stripes, which left her puzzled until Jessica grabbed the cube and solved all sides while maintaining eye contact.

"Showing off again, are we?" said Valerie.

Face red, Dani stood up, seized the Rubik's Cube then immediately sat back down, eyes askew "Witch," she muttered under her breath.

"Is that supposed to be an insult?" said Jessica.

"Cinderella got proven wrong," Valerie exclaimed. "She's going to have to get over it."

Danielle threw the Rubik's Cube away. "Fine!" After laying her rifle aside, she stormed over to a dark corner of the room. Back in view, she lugged something none of them had ever seen, not in person.

Jessica gaped at an actual record player, complete with arm, cartridge, needle and hardly a nick on the turntable; moreover, none of the buttons seemed to be missing. Danielle carefully lay the vintage instrument on the rocking chair.

"If you're so smart then get this to work!"

"That's a classic piece of Americana," Shannon gasped. "Old as hell, though... Jess is smart, but she's no wizard."

Jessica nodded in bitter disappointment but could hardly match the dullness of Dani's frown, which seemed too morose to fire back. Eyes askew, the blonde bit her cheek and mulled over the record player.

Rolling her eyes, Jessica lifted the player and examined the parts. "This ancient tech has an output point, which means it needs a secondary connection, presumably a speaker. Do you even have one?"

Valerie winced. "You mean they used to sell stuff without speakers?"

Danielle pulled a flashlight from her coat and lit up the dark side of the room. This illuminated an old speaker system. Valerie winced.

"And you had a flashlight this whole time?

"Yes, but I wasn't gonna waste battery."

An idea bolted through Jessica's brain. She set the record player down and began taking off her shoes.

"What is the girl doing?" asked Shannon.

"Improvising!" Jessica said.

"To do what?"

Jessica popped two insoles out of her shoes. "I have a job for you guys. Sift through the pile and find me anything with wires. Or just bring me wires."

Val shrugged her way to the pile, fastening her goggles. "Where's a bot when you need one?"

"What are you looking for?" rejoined Shannon.

Shoeless Jessica held the two insoles close together and revealed their magnetic properties. They propelled each other outward. "Adhesive, Shannon. If you find me glue or tape, that'd be m-mazing."

"Okay..."

Danielle flashed her light on Jessica, nearly blinding her. "What're you up to, cyber-punk?"

Jessica smirked. "You'll see. So much twentieth-century technology was based on the innovation of transistors. Three layers of semiconductor material regulated the voltage that allowed most devices to work properly, at home or on the move. Today, there's more Nano-circuitry and laser-based technology. Back then, however, the additional benefits of circuitry resulted in a single silicon microchip, or microsoft, which—you're not even listening to me."

"I'm listenin'," said Danielle. "Don't mean I understand. I think that moonshine really hit ya."

Several minutes later, Valerie arrived with a handful of wires. Jessica started her enigmatic experiment by separating the colors. Meanwhile, Shannon brought a roll of duct tape and a few glue bottles that may have been dry.

After approximately an hour of manual labor and brainpower, Jessica, her friends, and Danielle reached the final verdict. In the end, the generator Jessica contrived was a patchwork of metal—a contraption interlaced with copper wires—resting between the two magnetic soles of her shoes. With the back wires of the turntable touching the makeshift generator, which extended to the speaker system, last but not least, they needed an actual record. Valerie tackled the task.

She discovered a Vinyl album wedging out of the twentieth-century pile and attempted to read the label. "Banana something," she said. "The cover's all messed up."

Jessica silently chuckled before muttering a sentence she thought was clever. "We'll have to play it by ear. Who wants to press it?"

"I feel like, with my luck, I'll fuck it up somehow," said Valerie, handing the album to Jessica.

Shannon loosed a guttural sigh. "Too much responsibility."

"Danielle?" Jessica said. Dani stared blankly at the record, stand-offish.

"I would, but it ain't my scheme," she said. "You built it. It's your horse. You oughta do it."

"No risk, no reward then." Hot anticipation came to a boiling head as she meticulously set the disk on the turntable, touched the stylus to the black surface, and press the button.

Nothing but white noise.

An upbeat jingle broke the silence. Like the generator powering the musical device, the sound was magnetic. A predominant Xylophone introduced the melody, a high-pitched beat that paved the way for a keyboard.

Surprise. Excitement. The vocals enhanced the lively melody. Jessica saw joyful reprieve on her friends' faces. More prominently, Danielle's teeth fell for the first time, thanks to her smile. As impressed as the girl seemed, she may as well have been witnessing the first-ever flying car.

Shannon began dancing first, to the middle of the candle-lit room, without care. The others watched and waited, so she invited them over.

Since she could not dance, Jessica automatically shook her head. Before long, however, Valerie tapped her feet. On the verge of dancing her way to Shannon, Homegirl immediately grabbed Dani's arm and tossed her into the center of the room.

Danielle spun, and when she stopped, her eyes were wide with fury. Valerie didn't care. "Stop being so uptight, leave your gun alone, and dance, blondie." She kept dancing, swaying her hips in the attempt to make their stubborn host do the same. It seemed to work.

As her uptight glare withered into a smirk, Danielle paid more attention to their steps.

Jessica took a knee and let the generator absorb her attention, hoping it would keep the song alive. To her dismay, Valerie appeared above. A pound of fright made her ponder Homegirl's intentions.

"Stop being a loner."

"But I can't do dance," Jessica protested. "I can't do it."

"There's no way out of it." Valerie tugged on Jessica's arm. "What are you afraid of?"

"You're not going to make me—whoa!" Suddenly, she was looking at Dani. The blue eyes criticized her, with less bitterness and more rivalry. Both girls were new to the school of dance, and Dani rotated her arms awkwardly. The eyes continuously tore at Jessica with their challenge. Feeling stupid, Jess accepted the challenge and decided against letting blondie beat her at something neither of them was good at. Therefore, she began dancing the Robot.

Dani and Jessica moved their feet obliviously. In contrast, Shannon and Valerie knew their moves. They had a feel and ear for rhythm – While Valerie's dance involved an exotic swoon of legs and hips, Shannon had limb elasticity and mastery of spinning.

"Come on!" said Shannon, egging them on.

As Jessica felt the rhythm pulse through her ears and into her legs, she looked over to Dani. The girl, too, improved with each passing second.

Starkly, Dani had evolved from surly and stoic to vibrant.

"That's it!" Valerie said. "Con ganas, mira!"

Newfound color flourished in Jessica's cheeks when she saw Dani's eyes. A startling relief. Somehow, the acceptance helped her lose herself as she attempted new dance moves, her friends clapping loudly at the terrible effort. She had forgotten the feeling. Whatever their future, the present didn't have to be a dull place.

"Ciao!"

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# Chapter 20 Wherever The Devil Roams...

Disturbed by the depths of a fever dream, Jessica sat up in a hot sweat, panting. The tip of her skull felt weighed down, wary from rest or lack thereof. Perhaps it was the encumbrance of a sleeping bag or the hard floor. The sight of Beth and her friends drowning in a circle of fire did nothing to help.

The dark carried nothing but snores. Tip-toeing on concrete, she found her goggles and inspected the state of her friends. Shannon was fast asleep, snug on the couch. Valerie too. She walked over to Danielle, who seemed much nicer asleep than awake in her rocking chair. She couldn't believe they were dancing earlier. She couldn't believe they danced. Already, it felt like nights ago.

Something humiliated the quiet of the room, however. Goggles off, she observed a pale slight from the entrance. Enticed by the wind lull, she sauntered closer and found the cellar door open. Midnight held a mystery, so, sacrificing the makeshift generator, she returned her soles and put on her shoes. Then she made her way to the inviting night light, where a portrait played before her eyes.

Sensations and scenery hallucinated her thoughts, luring her back into a dreamer's mindset. Dampness in the air infused a chill abnormal for Summertime. Nevertheless, she stepped softly into the woods, motivated by the moon's glow. Though not bright, it coated the dark threads of bark with a glossy layer of blue, like an earthly sea that held a mirror to the heavens. She had dreams like this before but could never remember how they ended.

Curious impulse led her further, through azure leaves and black woods, until she laid eyes on snowfall. Snowfall lent credence, and she accepted a stroll into the dreamscape. When she tried to catch the flakes, they fell through her palms.

"This can't be real," she whispered and banged her head with a first. Nothing.

Stranger still, shadows crept and burrowed themselves in the nooks. There was no explaining the movement if it was real. If they were ghosts, she wanted to meet them. Perhaps they'd explain her visions, or at least explain the afterlife. Otherwise, the wandering was pointless. Perhaps fatigue, perhaps suppression of her other self had finally locked her mind into a shell of mourning. But if a dream could bring sweet relief, she was ready to follow it into the abyss.

On and on, her feet made no prints on the gathering snow. When she finally stopped, she stood near the precipice of a clearing where moon and shadow intermingled, where Heaven brought its light and Earth its dark. Then and there, her eyes leveled to a specter in the middle, a lone figure in a burly black coat.

Fearing evanescence, environed by terrible visions, Jessica stared at a head of long, gray hair. "That's not you," she whispered. The burning in her throat was poignant.

The head slowly turned.

Jessica's heart shot up into her throat. Quivering, she turned around and ran, not a single look back.

This is not a dream.

She ran with all the energy in her legs, despite the strain and the tug of tears pulling back. But nothing could surmount the pain of memory as she fled the illusion.

This is not a dream.

She stopped near the end of the jagged woodland then bent over to catch her breath. Subtle relief poured from the tree line ahead, where the distant lanterns of the Woodsmen burned. Their mild resonance was the border of reality, while curiosity carried her gaze backward

Wilderness had its waltz under the moonlight; pale pockets crested between pillars of bark, and the boughs seemingly parted on the glow's behalf. Trees and their twisted forms curtailed into a macabre cover on the night portrait. But that portrait was smeared, overpowered by a soundless beam from the canopy.

Within the light, a single entity descended under the rim of the forest. Tall, a pristine white coat fell to the feet, the hem swaying by the wind, body like snow and propelling an angelic aura. The sight made sand of Jessica's feet until she saw the face; it was pure metal in its specular white.

Eventually, the entity touched down. Whatever power helped them float came from the boots; that was obvious now as he, she, or it, waited in silence.

Jessica could only gawk, and writhe within her brain. Was she still hallucinating? Even if she was, logic had to motivate her. When she elected caution and didn't move, the white figure slowly hovered closer. Immaculate and daunting, its angelic stature towered above her, inch by inch. Eyes like glass looked down, and so she stiffened, waiting for the impression to unravel and bring the surreal world along with it.

It happened.

The surrounding snow lifted into inconsequential particles. Simultaneously, in a sequential fold, the metal face came undone, revealing mortal flesh. The identity changed her blood into water. Red eyes as bright as the fallen moon but more menacing. Fear became her.

"Greetings, Jessica."

"Malvis..."

She remembered the alien master of puppets. This was no dream but a nightmare where everything made sense. 'Wherever the Devil roams is cold...' She twisted in the search for more demons, to find nothing. Her mind sped into overdrive as her hand fell on her watch and found some semblance of security.

It would take me four seconds to call Babel, maybe 10 for him to make it. And at most, it would take Malvis 3 to stop me. Keep it together, Jessica...

Through sheer will, she forced her body to stop quivering.

"You're from Goliath."

"Correct."

"Why are you here?"

"I have come to speak to you. Consider it a peaceful close encounter."

"That's not funny..."

"Pleasantries are no requisite to parley. Do treat this meeting as an opportunity."

"Does this 'opportunity' bring answers, Helios?"

"How do you know that name?"

"You tell me."

"Helios is a fugitive, and that you know of him is a concern."

It's not him. "He's an acquaintance I never really got to know or like."

"That one is a variable to the regime. Then again, so are you. You are the Lynx, correct? Who wiped Ashenvale Academy's student records, Lynx who exposed gambling in intellectual properties designed for children, the same Lynx who cracked SK-3. It may be that I have, as your people say, scratched the surface."

"The fact that you're flapping your mouth instead of your weapon, I guess, sends its own message. Why not just say why you came here?"

"I am here to make amends, in a manner of speaking. I seek the Lynx for remedies to recent upheaval: terrorism, dissent, a conflict brewed from whispers of resistance. Despite impediments on the path to our mutual prosperity, the infantile relationship between Azareans and humans has not collapsed. As two species, we should not discount the serendipity in our establishing relations. Despite our differences. Despite... disparity."

"In other words, you're Azarean, I'm human, and you need my help because you're better than me."

"Communication is an imperfect marvel. Outsiders, criminals, rebels, Sub Terra, all byproducts of miscommunication. You can change that. Surrender the information I know lies in your custody. In so doing, maintain the peace towards which we have striven these hundred-odd years, Jessica..."

"I'm supposed to help you by looking the other way. Turn a blind eye and let you be the king of accountability, right?"

"You can mitigate the terror sown in the hearts and minds of New Sumerians."

"You're talking about the terror you cooked up when no human was looking?"

"The terror planted by dissent and naive murmurs of a minority."

"False. You can't even call a tomato a tomato."

"I am not here to consult you on vegetation."

"No, you're here to convince me you didn't destroy Pine Rim Hovels. You're here because you're delusional, and Goliath can't measure me in their risk assessment."

"I am here to accommodate you, despite that."

"Despite what?"

"Despite your knowledge on Goliath's... sacrifices, the social structures we have weaved for the sake of peace. The Azarean web is but the stroke of a higher power inspired by human epistemology."

"You call it 'sacrifices'? Stop trying to be a poet. Goliath has a bubble of crimes and lies just waiting to pop, and you're scared. You won't even spell out a single one, alone in the forest. That's how scared you are."

"What would it change, a corporation's involvement in terrorism? Goliath's actions, every step on the stairs, every grind of the cog, is a calculated sequence in the algorithm for a better Earth. As natural, inevitable, and unfortunate the maelstrom, life is recompense to prosperity. Humans must be programmed. Azareans live long, long enough to see idleness breed xenophobia, and idleness is a luxury of our intervention in your planet's primitive squabbles. Your species has survived an epoch beyond its expiration."

"Humph. I think I get it. You want to recruit me because you think we share a perspective."

"And our union would achieve more good than the alternative. Your mind—your place is as a bridge between paradises because, whether you believe or not, we are all Earthlings now."

"So... what would you say if this fellow Earthling asked you to get over yourself?"

"Explain."

"You can't be a King if people's lives are unimportant. That's stupid. If you have a soul and sovereignty then subtract soul, you leave nothing but a head to a broken crown. Now I'm not a judge, and never really cared about everyone else, or crowns. I'm just Jessica, and the world is not a zero-sum game. I know that. Still... You still managed to fuck up my life."

Malvis was stiff.

"Why did you have to kill Beth?"

"Is that the engine of your pretense? An elder victim?"

Jessica's lips contracted into a grin that played against the fury in her eyes. "We're not both emotionless, after all."

"Coarse or timid, my motivations are proper."

"My motivation was a firefighter, public servant, friend, former mother, sister, widow, devout Jew... More love in her fingertips than a callous cliché like you—probably your whole race. And I hate generalizing."

"Your motivation is limited and singular. I am not motivated by one or a few, but many. Countless."

"You speak for 'countless' yet don't feel for a single one?"

"100 years nurturing this planet should suffice. Reversing your mistakes, mitigating the primal residue of interminable flaws. To what more must we aspire? Your ungratefulness speaks for many and only validates our means. But if you join us, we shall not simply undo but, as I have stated, amend."

You don't amend certain things, Jessica wanted to say. "The last human who agreed to work for you killed my friend."

"Is Pine Rim's perpetrator so relevant?"

"It might be when I tell the world about it..."

"Would that sate you? Would the promise of vengeance let you see the greater good?"

"Maybe, it couldn't hurt."

"If I understood your personal fury, would I understand humans? My curiosity is earnest."

"Would you just give me their name if I promised to join you?"

"If it may placate your rage long enough to hear reason."

"As if telling me will decrease your chances?"

"Very well... You are acquainted with David Mourner?"

Jessica curled her lips to hide a deep frown forming.

"David Mourner was your ally, yes? He was the perpetrator. A no-man, false loyalist, and actor who facilitated Pine Rime's destruction. He received his motivation from the data you collected on his behalf. Congratulations."

Liar.

"That uttered, Lynx, I have presented you with redemption for your sin."

"You're lying..." Hoarseness in her voice, she looked at the ground. "It's a lie."

"Mourner has been apprehended. You, on the other hand, may compensate for his treachery."

"I didn't kill Beth..."

"Do not neglect this opportunity out of madness."

"I didn't kill Beth." Jessica turned her back to the alien. "I wouldn't kill her. I just wanted to understand why my dad died. I wanted to know what they were hiding. The secrets, the black sites, the government funding. I wanted to help the prisoners on the top of Goliath."

Malvis furrowed his brow. "What have you learned?"

Jessica froze, a Cheshire smile on her face. "I remembered something. If David was responsible, why wouldn't he be working with Sub Terra?"

"He is."

"Except, that nutjob you paid to vomit your message on the Fourth of July, he was an amateur, like SK-3. Know how I know?"

Again, Malvis was silent.

"When I took Drama in the academy, my teacher—he was pretty cool—told me that, to reach a broad audience, a stage actor had to project his voice. Ancient Greeks and all that. From what I remember that day, the hack who plastered his face all over New Sumer, his vocals hit like a fucking horn.

"Fear tends to skew perception, Angst macht den Wolf größer als er ist, so New Sumerians didn't catch on. Almost got me too, I'll admit. That actor is not with Sub Terra; David wasn't responsible for any of it. Human flaws worked against you. Flaws can be a good thing.

"See, humanity doesn't rebel because you're aliens; it's because you're robots."

"Jessica..."

"With hearts of stone..."

"Accept my entreaty."

"And minds of metal."

"You haven't seen a mind of metal!"

The Azarean's first pant and the first bout of fury were startling. The bright red eyes dilated. Quickly, Malvis reclaimed his composure and cleared his throat. What came next was the cock of a gun.

"Get away from her."

Dexter appeared on their flank, focused, his pistol leveled at the Goliath Agent.

Coldly, Malvis' head creaked and angled until his crooked gaze rested on the boy as if to an insect. "You've brought a toy to a battle of words, human. What do you intend with that?"

Dexter stared Malvis down, a mix of anger, anxiety, and fear to freeze his trigger finger. "I said, back away from her."

Dexter. The new reality of the situation made Jessica's blood rush. "Dex, we'll all be okay if you're not rash," she said shakily.

His dark eyes darted between her and the alien. "What does he want?"

"To compromise," said Malvis.

"Azareans don't compromise without lies and force."

"Yet, you do not see me conducting diplomacy with a weapon."

Jessica bent her knees, —"Is that what this is?"—gaping between her friend and Goliath's agent.

"Dispense with your firearm." Malvis lifted his sleeve.

"Just do it, Dexter!" Jessica, however, needed the distraction, and carefully nudged her hands closer together.

1...

Jessica ignited her Vambrace and input characters.

2...

Malvis lifted her by the neck and squeezed as her feet kicked back and forth.

3...

Her weightless pain was accompanied by Dexter's weapon discharge, and thunder in her throat.

4...

More gunshots scathed reality as her breath funneled.

"I laid bare the stairs to your ascension," Malvis seethed. "No matter. One human or a million is inconsequential on the road to providence. Surrender the intel you stole, and you may live to see it."

The sound of turbines preceded blazing lights in the distance, and the resonance droned in her ears. Airships.

"Or you may live long enough to see Asgard purge the woods... Did you believe Goliath would consider a second eye for humans living under trees? Not before tonight."

Eventually, Jessica's knees hit the ground. Salvation allowed her to inhale and wheeze, to muster a sliver of energy for breath. Feeling around her neck, she looked up and caught Dexter struggling on top of Malvis.

"Just run, Jess!" he cried.

"Moron!" she coughed.

Laboriously, the young man grappled with the alien on the ground. Jessica needed that extra moment, though. Dexter needed her. Revving her lungs, she powered the luminescent brace around her forearm and made a call. She was distracted by raspy moans, all the while.

Dexter dangled under Malvis, by the wrist. From underneath his coat sleeve, the Azarean ejected a blade. The long edges irradiated into a yellow neon that hissed like his next sentence.

"A will that cannot convert must be severed."

Dexter hit the ground unconscious; his arm followed. Jessica's heart sank, her face numbed, and she was deaf to her own scream.

"DEXTER!"

Eyesight handicapped by tears, a blurred image of her friend convulsed under the wicked branches. The blade illuminated the ground where Dexter's arm had dropped, humming with whatever energy cauterized the wound.

Casually, the alien watched Jessica fume until her eyes turned into fire.

A hot flash later, her senses returned. When the atmosphere cleared, she inhaled then focused on the subject of her hatred. "Babel!" she screamed.

"Here!" he said.

She sprinted away.

"Cowardice will only stall your demise, Lynx," Malvis spat. "But not the demise of your kin."

A hum echoed across the woodland when Jess stepped out of the clearing. From the distant mansion sped the gravity board. She slid on the ground, letting the deck magnetize to her feet, to uplift and circle around in a single maneuver.

"Boost, Babel!"

Malvis reappeared in focus. She charged at full speed.

"Haaaaaaaa!"

"Naive gir-!"

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

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# Chapter 21 The Lanterns

Jessica bent back ninety-degrees when Malvis' blade arced overhead. Time stretched into slow-mo adrenaline as the energy evaporated the sweat off her skin. Her board then smashed through his legs, flipping him as her back hit the ground.

She instantly recovered and circled back without a care for the alien's groaning; it was music to her ears, actually. And as Malvis rolled in the dirt, she gravitated beside Dexter and grabbed his left hand, the remaining hand.

"Come on!" she cried but was forced to drag his body. Her knees suddenly hit the ground, however, and she noticed the gravity board split in two. Even with the agent on his feet, pistol in his clutch, she never let go. She kicked the aluminum off her feet and pressed on

A transparent bubble suddenly wrapped around the agent, triggered by two bullets and an electrical pulse. The bullets were electrical darts, and they caused the shield to fluctuate while Malvis peered in every direction.

"Valerie..." Jessica muttered.

The alien's brow twisted irritably. "Harmless ballistic—" An explosion sent him flying into one of the many trees.

"What the hell?"

Shannon then sprinted next to her, face gaunt and eyes white. "You shouldn't be out here, Jessica!"

"What are you—" It didn't matter. "Help me with Dexter!" Her friend stared slack-jawed at the missing arm. "Shannon!"

"Right!"

With Shannon's help, Jessica lifted Dexter and restarted toward the lanterns. They had to ignore the encroaching whistle of the airships, though they could not ignore the distant moan. Shannon looked back. "Jess," she warned.

Over her shoulder, Malvis was rising from the dirt. His polished coat had become a layer of fumes, gunpowder scent splitting the senses from afar.

"Faster, Shannon!"

"You will run, but you will die face down," Malvis snarled. One foot forward, forward like a gust, the pulse from his boots stole Jessica and Shannon's chance of escape. As soon as he was upon them, Shannon let go of Dexter and turned around.

"Don't!" Jessica screeched when the blade fell.

Shannon narrowly escaped the swift, smoldering blade's edge, sacrificing the hem of her shirt. She followed the dodge with a duck, and the blade almost set her hair on fire. Her hands pushed her off the ground for a kick to the agent's gut. A single cough escaped his breath, yet he drew his arm back for another thrust. Shannon had no room to dodge a second time.

Following a sonic pitch from the woodland, Malvis' arm flailed backward.

Jessica surveyed the dark around them in search of Dani, but couldn't see a thing. Onward, she shifted her weight with Dexter the moment Malvis realigned. His torso came back into the moonlight, right arm limp and stained with a bullet hole. Perhaps shock, perhaps alien adrenaline—or perhaps total numbness—stirred the shock on his face when his large pupils landed on the girls, and his pistol aimed between Jessica's eyes.

His gun left a hole in the nearby tree. Valerie had forced Malvis on his back, with a furious tackle. Point blank, she crouched over the alien and emptied her pistol clip into his chest, leaving electricity and rapid breath. Malvis lay slumped in a never-ending seizure when Valerie tossed the pistol aside and poured all energy into her fists.

"You don't get to lay a finger on her, bitch! You don't get to do anything!"

"Val!" By the time Shannon pulled Valerie off, Malvis lay battered, bleeding, and immobilized. "We're out of fucken time! Get stepping like your life depends on it, cuz it does!"

When Shannon jumped back to help Dexter, Jessica peeked back at the unmoving white suit.

The flying lights expanded over the wilderness when a pair of hands touched her scalp and steered her attention. Valerie's mug. Homegirl said nothing, but her brow trench and baggy eyes showed fear.

"I'm fine, Val."

Along the way, Danielle's dark figure appeared by the side of a log. Rifle perched on her shoulder, the teenaged marksman eyed their every step until they crossed paths. A forlorn grimace crossed her shadowed face.

"We can't stay here, Dani" Jessica told her, aware of the debt she owed.

"Yea, it is time for you to go," she said.

Why did she say it like that?

When they arrived, Gideon and Raptor strode at the behest of a scrambling ranger camp. Lanterns gathered in a wave as innumerable Woodsmen rushed out of their hideouts and into the open. The encroaching lights served as their warning, the direction from which Jessica and her friends raced.

They have to be warned.

Jessica and her friends halted next to Gideon, where she attempted but failed to part lips. Danielle stomped up to her uncle, reloading her rifle, mutely, with an expression that made him cock his shotgun. Valerie scanned the woods for signs of evil as Shannon ran back to the mansion.

"What happened?" Gideon interrogated.

Raptor stared a thousand yards before he inspected his brother's unconscious state. "There's no good explanation for this."

"An Azarean agent!" Jessica practically yelled.

Gideon penetrated the dark pillars of timber with his eyes. "Perimeter's been breached, boys and girls, which means the next bullet better hit whatever slips through those trees!" By his command, the Woodsmen collectively vaulted behind their network of barricades. Several scouts advanced into the woods, accompanied by night-vision goggles.

"No! This Azarean is a gigantic variable, and there's more coming!" Jessica protested. "He—Asgard knows where we are. They've known since the beginning. Judging by the lights and the rotors, they're less than a kilometer away. We have to leave!"

"Sounds like they came here for a fight!" said Gideon.

Raptor wrapped the leftover half of his brother's arm around his neck, face gaunt after one look at the damage. Then he looked away. "It's cauterized... Did you do that?"

Jessica wiped a single tear. "No, but he needs help."

"We're in the middle of nowhere! He's not getting the attention he needs until we make the rendezvous!"

"Jessica!" Valerie raced over with their belongings. Jessica parted from Dexter, ensuring his balance with fluttering hands, and then opened her mouth to speak.

She cracked. Garble fell out while total chaos pulled the tip of reality. Malvis had already done his damage, yet there was more to come, and it took everything in Jessica's power to leave panic alone. She had to be herself to keep everyone else standing. Alive. Fear, however, clung to her joints. Dexter was half-dead with the one arm, and Raptor seared right through her with his gaze. None of the trauma could compare to the impending blaze.

"We have to get out of here!"

Valerie saw panic. "Jess!"But Shannon stepped in between them and took Jessica in her arms, laying her head to rest.

Am I traumatized?

Her perception slithered between cracks in hypotheticals, so she broke from Shannon's warmth to look her friend in the eye.

"We're leaving!"

Airship rotors tolled over the forest, drawing everyone to the sky.

"Get ready, Woodsmen!" Gideon lifted his gun. "Rockets in the air! No airship touches down, ya hear me?" The leader stormed down the fortification column of the ranger ruin. As he stepped to, the feet tremors reverberated. Many more Woodsmen arrived. With their arrival, every lantern's light began perishing throughout the expanding wall of darkness. Before the light could disappear completely, Jessica caught up to him.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed, eyes on fire. "There's no fight when you can't win. There's no repelling a strategical Asgard assault using archaic weapons."

Gideon looked her in the eye. "Haven't you been paying attention, missy? You have. Winning's not our mission. You and yer friends get that Bobble to where it needs to get, and we'll be shooting in the meantime because there is no home away from home for the Woodsmen. We're all here."

Jessica fumed. Danielle stood a few feet from her uncle. Silent she may have been, silence may have hidden resistance, so Jessica leaned in and pressed the girl's shoulders. "Tell your uncle this is a busted plan! The odds are not in your favor, no matter how prepared you think you are!" Teeth clattering, she probed Danielle's expression. Its resolve still betrayed the slightest shadow of reluctance. Another idea struck. "Come with us!"

Danielle opened her mouth but paused. Powerful hesitation, surprise, or sorrow stopped her reply. As the lights around the camp died, another Woodsman interrupted their exchange.

"We're ready, Gideon," said Jimmy.

Lantern after fading lantern sent shivers down Jessica's spine before everything went black. The last glow ingrained the image of rockets pointed toward the sky, and the last flicker under Dani's touch kept nothing but solemnness alight.

A green laser split Jimmy's chest and left him dead where he fell.

"Cover!"

Like wicked rain, gunfire cut down the men and women outside the barricades. Bright muzzle flashes illuminated the assailants behind each tree. It was clear then that the area was already surrounded.

Jessica and her friends dove behind the nearest barricade. Too many projectiles mounted into a deafening torrent as the Woodsmen returned fire. Enemy fire, meanwhile, persisted into magnificently lethal impacts. Alien energy-based weapons kindled wood, smoldered metal, and turned sand into glass; through and through, they pierced humans.

But the Woodsmen reprised the onslaught with everything at their disposal. Machine-guns pepper-sprayed the forest, successive rocket salvos splashed fire on the woodlands, and for every explosion, Asgard lost momentum. Such a hail manifested into hues of luminescent greens and deadly reds, both bright, both sinister in sound and impact. Coupled with the screech of rocket-propelled grenades, before long, the entire area was a kindling canvas.

It was the apex point in the nightmare from which she could not wake. Valerie was shouting something, but only brackets made it past the carnage and into Jessica's ears. When she finally peered from cover, she read her friend's lips.

"We have to get out of here, now!"

Shannon helped Jessica to her feet and kept their heads low. As more men and women fell around them, Jess relapsed into visceral flashbacks of Pine Rime—the hellfire that took everything in a sudden shockwave. She fell back to her knees. The psychological rupture shook her to the core and upscaled her mercy pleas with every explosion.

Raptor's face appeared, unfazed by the chaos. "Back to the car, double time!" he shouted, shaking her out of shock. Several seconds later, he carried Dexter's body away.

It was grueling, but Jessica eventually stood on her own two feet. In the city, in any other haven of technology, where bits reigned and hardware thrived, she could do something. Here amidst a desolate wilderness, helplessness defined her.

Every inch of her body weighed like iron. Contrarily, her mind moved a thousand miles an hour and twisted her gaze backward.

The airships had arrived, carrying many more black bodies. They dropped under the rim of a pale night sky, on cables. Black hands clung to the lines; black hands discharged their weapons in descent. They would land, and the airships would ascend once more as the Woodsmen desperately fought on.

Asgard advanced from the blazing treeline and formed up before the barricades. A selection of heavy gauntlets projected shields of intense blue, and from behind these tortoise formations, each squad fired and advanced in a pattern. Firing. Shields Up. Advancing. Firing. It was an energy wall the resistance failed to crack. Even when explosives bombarded the barriers, at most, they made the Azarean line stumble. Asgard did not break, and neither would the humans.

"You're slow!" said Dani. There she was, shoving Jessica into the trees that had yet to catch fire. The girl's stone face had returned, off of which ricocheted the chaos. The woodland girl shoved Jessica forward then fired her rifle backward. Ahead of them lay the untarnished grove; behind them, incessant thunder. Yet the decline of gunfire may as well have been the sound of bodies piling.

"You go to where you need to go!" Danielle shouted, reloading her clip. Another explosion smashed nearby when Jessica jumped out of Valerie's grasp.

"You can come with us!" she implored again. If a thousand more offers convinced Danielle to say yes, it would have been too few.

Dani's resolve almost collapsed with her frown. Only one side of her face was illuminated by volatile glints in the night, but the pale blue eyes fired an apology. She took Jessica in her arm and whispered something. Every drowned word was a gut punch.

Dani then pushed her back. Jessica fell into Valerie's arms, Valerie who wasted no time pulling her away from danger.

Jessica protested no more, vision clarified, and she regained the use of her legs. Valerie and Shannon's backs came into view, and then Raptor in the lead with Dexter. She spared a look back, watching as Danielle shot a flare into the sky. Up above the world, it sparked a bright green.

Every step of the retreat panged Jessica's joints. Asgard would decimate or capture those who resisted today, but the consequence of her own capture could have terrible consequences tomorrow. Reaching Sub Terra, sifting through the chaos of alien conspiracies, meant more in the long run. Much more. Elusive to thoughts of vengeance, she course-corrected toward the goal of humiliating them: Goliath, the government, Malvis, all of them. The mission would be her singular focus until finished or Dani's last words faded from memory.

"You would have been a good friend, Jess."

***

Loud, distant explosions persisted as their party hit a mound in the grove. Raptor began discarding the leaves, to unveil the hidden car underneath. Shannon ran to his aid and took Dexter off his shoulders while Jessica and Valerie helped uncover the vehicle.

"I have an idea where to go," said Raptor, taking the driver's seat.

Jessica stumbled her way to the front passenger seat, once Dexter was secure. She refrained from looking at him. Rather, she assumed the fetal position and gaped beyond the front windshield.

Feet inside, seatbelts fastened, Raptor touched the ignition and launched off the ground. The sea of silhouettes fell underneath, overtaken by a sea of stars. The rumbling sky, despite its static nature, despite its promise of peace, shrouded the shellshock.

"How is he?" asked Raptor, slurring.

"Alive," said Jessica, unwilling to check.

"Shit. He's not bleeding, and, since I'm not a doctor, that's all I can say," said Shannon.

"Silver linings..." Valerie muttered.

Jessica awaited a smart remark from Homegirl. When none came, she peered beyond. Her mind waded through too much black to see the bright side of things. "I saw him," she started, "the Azarean from before." Her fists tightened. "Malvis and Asgard knew where we were before we met the Woodsmen."

"For a second, I thought someone was on the inside," said Raptor. "I mean, we covered our tracks. Right, Lynx?"

A tinge of suspicion. Jessica glared at him and said, "Of course, we did. 'm untraceable, in case you were wondering."

Stress played in the rebel's eyes as he returned to their imaginary route in the sky.

"You said it yourself, their best invention is invisibility," Jessica continued. "So why go out of their way to rev a group who's never made waves?"

"I can't suddenly see them as the passive types when they've worked as hard as they have to suppress us. My brain doesn't come with a switch that can turn off experience. Underneath those cold, ostentatious, alien shells, there's brutality, Lynx."

Jessica flashed back to the forest: Malvis' face and that moment had vividly inscribed themselves into her memory. It brought bitterness, and her body shook until Beelz's words returned.

Maybe, you'll learn to hate Azareans as much as I do.

After a short silence, Raptor's glances became obvious. He tried to act casual, one hand on the steering wheel, but he was clearly riled. "Say the Azareans did know about the Woodsmen..." Every girl in the car faced the driver's seat. "How do you think they knew about us?"

Jessica tiredly turned from Raptor to the passenger window. The night sky had its own qualities. Its shroud could spill into the car, wrap around her heart and seal it off to wants. In a few hours, though, the sun would rise. The Sun.

"Goliath is after me, so they sent Malvis. If you're a hunter-killer, where else would you look? And they're not going to stop. Not until one of us is gone. even then..."

"That could be forever," Shannon moaned.

"Welcome to Sub Terra," Raptor said. "That's our reality until the regime successfully creates their own... or we stop them."

Jess guffawed. "Imagine it's like trying to take down the sun."

"That's over ninety percent of Goliath operations right there," Raptor sighed. "Of course, that would kill us all."

"Hmmm."

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# Chapter 22 I Haven't Had Coffee

A solemn night sky blanketed the world. All Raptor could do was land at the first pitstop, which turned out to be nothing more than an isolated power station in a dry part of the territory. Overhead, a bright white sign and its illuminated hare previewed their point on the map: Hare Raiser Power rotating in all directions, situated on the side of a trafficless road leading to and from New Sumer.

Neither Jessica nor her friends knew what to expect in this remote area, recharging the sedan. In so doing, they found two other vehicles parked in the slots. Distant and parallel to the driver's side, an old couple casually recharged their Mitsubishi microcar. Two batteries over, there lay a driverless Makoto sedan.

Within seconds of their touching down, Raptor hopped out of the driver's seat. "Let's be quick," he said. "Shannon, work the charger while I'm inside?"

"Uhh, alright," she muttered. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to see where we stand in the news." He put on a pair of black sunglasses.

"I'll go with him," added Valerie. "Better to stay in pairs, right?"

Pairs...

While Valerie accompanied Raptor, and Shannon stepped out, Jessica stretched over her shoulder to look at Dexter. His eyelids were aflutter. Now that she had a moment to observe him, he very much resembled his high school self, only more mature. Mature even then, at the age where most boys were clueless and hid their faults with machismo before they changed genders. Dex, however, was the right sort of weird...

She thought about his potential reaction after regaining consciousness. Shuttering from his charred stump, she tried to imagine life with one arm. Her shoulders scrunched with every second thinking about it. Nevertheless, better that he was alive.

"Ah—sorry!"

A gasp from beyond the rearview window belonged to an Azarean male in slacks and a collared white shirt. His frightful gaze darted every way, as he skipped past Raptor and Valerie. Raptor eyed the alien with suspicion, muttering, "No problem." The Azarean pressed on, distracted and anxious, with frizzled blonde hair ready to fall off.

Jessica mirrored Raptor's suspicion and observed the alien with eyes wide open. Though he looked nervous, his worried mug did nothing. Gnashing her teeth together, she felt nothing. "Azareans..." She crept out of the car, rounded the charging column, and approached the only other vehicle.

Her board was gone, optimism along with it, but she still had tools. With a few circumvention tools, she could launch that car off into space. "Babel," she whispered. Holographic violet enveloped her arm.

After opening the rear door, the Azarean leaned halfway into the backseat to adjust some kind of interior secret. Jessica glared from his blindside, lifted the Vambrace, and aimed.

Slowly, the space-elf backstepped into the door, widening the gap for a skewed view of the inside.

Her eyes canted back for that brief but clear moment. A small thing lay nestled in the backseat: Red hair, vibrant skin, it was an immaculate curiosity with glowing green eyes that briefly peered in her direction and left nothing but innocence. She had never seen an Azarean baby before.

Suddenly, the Azarean glanced back and flinched. Jessica hid the brace, lips frozen into a purse. The male shut the car door before stumbling into the driver's seat. In no time, the vehicle powered with full beam rotor energy then launched in the opposite direction of New Sumer.

Quiet wind.

There was no suspicion, no pity, and no disgust; just plain old fear. That fear had been justified, if for a moment. Deep down, though not as deep as she would have liked, a levee cracked and spilled anger.

Then her knuckles came down, and she felt the horizon, where the warmth of a rising sun slowly tinged the surface of the world. Its light skimmed into a subtle, rising rim behind the newly formed mountains. Closer, the gold sky glazed the canyons to cast Autumn in her direction. Without knowledge of a life outside the city, the empty country helped distill the sorrow into appreciation.

"Jess."

She snapped back. Valerie was standing behind her.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," she sighed.

"Out here?"

Lithely, Jessica angled her gaze above the station. The sign, the white hare, detoxed her thoughts. Foremost among them, the memory of Dexter and the forest returned. "' On the highway out of hell, beware the energizer bunny'."

"What?"

Jessica pointed Homegirl to the sign above, fastening her goggles. "Zoom in times ten." There, beneath the feet of the surging, electrically charged rabbit, she found her clue. "See those numbers, Valerie?"

Valerie crushed her eyelids at the sign. "What numbers? The graffiti?"

"Exactly." Jessica rotated back to the canyons and removed her goggles. Her shoulders suddenly shuttered, and Homegirl couldn't help but notice. Thus, Valerie trod beside and gave a pat.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, Jess?"

Turning, Jessica revealed white teeth between her peach lips.

"Where, in the hell, did that smile come from?"

"They're coordinates."

"What is what?"

"The numbers, Val! They're longitude and latitude. Basic geography. Babel..." The Vambrace made Valerie back away.

"Still not used to that."

Jessica input the numbers. "Babel, how close are we to these coordinates?"

"Close. 1.992 kilometers."

"Then we have our rendezvous! Raptor better hustle his ass." Jessica sauntered back to the car. Valerie followed.

Raptor was already beside the vehicle, laidback in a conversation Shannon. Upon their re-entry, Raptor powered the rotor and began a steady drive down the road.

"I know where to go," Jessica told him.

"Is that a fact? You're not throwing me a fast one?" he said.

"I've got coordinates."

"Where in the hell did you pick up coordinates?"

"Your brother."

After a silent gawk at the backseat, Raptor's attention to the highway took after Jessica's instructions, though he glanced from the window to her seat with a leer of reluctance. Jessica eyed him, too, an act that quickly made her skin twirl. He still looked like an older, rugged version of Dexter.

The next mile carried them past a few crags, during which the sun had all but risen into a full sphere. "Slow down," Jessica cooed. They drove on the cusp of two roadside canyons when Raptor lightly depressed the fuel pedal, the same moment the road began looping. Vaults and walls of rock and shadow then enveloped them. "Stop!"

Everyone jerked forward in their seats, Valerie and Shannon grabbing Dexter lest he swung.

"Jess, what are we looking for?" Shannon said.

"Look there, girls." Jessica pointed beyond Raptor's window, to a cavity carved in the side of the canyon. The hollow cut its way through thick rock, at which Raptor winced.

"That looks thin," he said.

"This is the part where you drive through it."

"No roads lead to the coordinates," Babel commented. "Global positioning points to another canyon through the hollow, and yet, my scans indicate nothing. There is no mass."

"I can't tell if Jarvis there is encouraging me or not," Raptor grunted.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Just trust me, dude."

"When you put it like that..." Within seconds, they passed through the crack and immersed themselves in shadow, their only source of light filtered from the crag above.

"Holler if you see anything," said Raptor. For a while, nothing but rocks enveloped their cruise into the inner cavity. A dark trail carried them until the faintest light rays revealed a distant terminus.

"What is that?" Valerie pointed ahead.

A dark aberration in the rays. Relative to the crack in the canyon, the anomaly grew in size, a literal UFO until its silhouette clarified. For absolute confirmation, Jessica had to wear her goggles. "That's an airship," she said.

"Don't fuck around, Jess!" snapped Shannon.

"I'm not..."

Shannon and Valerie leaned forward for a better view when Raptor stopped the vehicle. He turned off the headlights and tried to control his breathing. "Keep calm. They probably haven't seen us." As he looked back, a debate clearly raged behind his eyes. There was no escape.

"The airship's vector indicates an interception course," said Babel.

Jessica crunched her teeth. "Of course, it does." She magnified her lenses, calculating their chances of escape if they launched into the sky. But then she caught wind of something uncanny. "Enhance." On the curvature of the airship's nose was a white rabbit.

"It's getting a lot closer!" Valerie shrieked.

"Can't we just ditch this place?" said Shannon, strapping her seatbelt.

Raptor squinted for a better look, then carried his squint to Jessica. "You seem too calm."

The airship had disappeared, but the engine drone persisted.

Moving.

Tremoring.

Following the sound of a metallic crunch, the entire car jerked. Large claws clamped down around them. The interior rumble evoked their groans and wrenched their casual drive into an aerial prison. Then, following a weightless moment, their seats fed back like a theme-park ride. Shadows outside collapsed under reemergent sunlight. They were being towed across the sky.

"Aren't you and Babel going to do anything!" Raptor shouted.

Jessica breathed in and out, steadily. She could have scrambled the airship's system; she could have deduced a method of disengaging the claw. "You just have to trust me," she insisted. "This isn't Asgard."

Raptor stared spitfire, the seat unbalancing him and everything else. Despite incredulity in his eyes and fists, he didn't move from his seat. Like Valerie and Shannon, all he could do was hold on and wait. At that moment, Jessica's swirly vision caught a stir in the backseat. Dexter was waking up.

He opened his eyes. From a squint to dilation, they widened with surprise—or horror. "What 's going on?" he croaked.

Jessica removed her seat belt and leaned into the back seat, vying for balance in the car's free-flight rumble. She took Dexter's wavering expression between her hands and looked him in the eye. "Dex, listen, you're okay...

"Homegirl!"

Valerie appeared beside Jessica to inspect the boy for herself. "Whatever you do, stay calm and don't look at your arm," she said. Jessica glared and froze so intensely she thought her bones would creak. Without creaking, she pushed Valerie away and held Dexter close.

"We're going to make it!" was all she could say, while Dexter's chest heaved and compressed.

They flew to the climax of speculation. Before they could contemplate—or panic—at length, the airship descended. Outside the windows, a theater of canyons greeted them in the middle of nowhere country.

A thud meant landfall, but after the metal clamps came undone, the car continued its clinks. They were on a platform, where the sky surrendered to rock until the morning light disappeared yet again.

"Not another cave!" Shannon whined.

Desperation carved Valerie's eyeshadow, but the wrinkles seemed to smoothen when she met Jessica's confident gaze. Goosebumps, nevertheless, ran down Jessica's spine; the likelihood of being wrong sunk in, the closer they came to the end. Dexter had emotionally stabilized, breathing normally as he looked at her and nothing else. Surprising, especially since he had seen his arm stub. Jessica couldn't help but lament internally at that moment... when the elevator stopped. The car doors were forced open.

"Get down on the ground!"

Weapons and threats waited for them on the other side. Jessica and her friends were greeted by yet more guns in the arms of tech braces. She remembered the Sicario suits.

Valerie hit the ground, alongside Shannon. As the last out of the vehicle, Jessica grabbed her bearings. Dexter eliminated her sense of self-preservation, reaching out just as black hands grabbed hold and took him.

"Dex!" she stammered.

He swiftly broke free with a fearful look in his eye. Reality had dawned on him, and so he outstretched his arm and touched her hand for a second.

"Easy with him!" Raptor barked.

Just as quickly, Dex was restrained and carried down the only tunnel, where he disappeared from sight. Jessica glimpsed the object he'd pressed into her hand; it was a miniature touchscreen. She pressed the single button, illuminating a topographic map with nothing more than a blip.

A gunpoint fell within inches of her face, so she stared down the barrel before staring down the wielder. Swelled in bitterness, she coldly awaited search and seizure. "The hell do you want?" When visor slid down, Monarch's dark smirk prevailed.

"You were gone a while," he said, lowering the weapon. "Get them up. And be gentle about it..." Shannon and Valerie could breathe when they rose to their feet.

"Wait. No apology for throwing us on the ground like scumbags?" Shannon drawled.

Monarch stared. "Comes with the territory when you're careful. At least, you weren't shot."

"We've been shot at," Jessica retorted. "It's a miracle we haven't been shot to death and burned, or done in by some alien machination. It's just been one precarious shitstorm after another. Now tell me; where are you taking Dexter?"

"Corporal Darkstar is being escorted to the medical bay, Lynx. Speaking of which, do you need attention? Or can you explain what happened out there, right now, in a debriefing? I hope you didn't lose the data." Instead of waiting for a response, Monarch peered over Jessica's head. "Complications, Raptor? Report!"

"Nothing we didn't manage through the skin of our teeth," he said coolly.

Jessica leered between Raptor and Monarch. "Well, you two can stand here and be soldier—get that fucken gun away from me!"

The nearby guard slowly backed away. Jessica kept her eyes on him until he stepped a few meters off, into his own private space. The whole room was staring.

"You can calm down, Lynx," Monarch soothed. "You're out of the woods, now."

"Am I?" Jessica sniffed. "3.14159265359..."

"It's okay to be mad, Jess," said Valerie, inching from behind.

"Who's mad?" she coughed. "71693993751058209... I'm just tired. You should be, too. I haven't had coffee, is all."

"Mitch!" cried Monarch.

Another Sicario suit approached. "Yea, boss?"

"Get this girl some coffee."

Shannon jumped. "I'll take one, too!"

"Me three," said Valerie.

"Black for me," added Raptor.

Jessica glared at him. "You would go black..."

The guard's eyes rolled white as he committed everyone's order to memory then sauntered off.

Another deep breath, Jessica strolled up to Raptor with a faint. Dreary-eyed, she knew that he knew what she was going to say. She said it anyway. "I'm sorry about Dexter. And I'm sorry I couldn't stop it from happening." I hate this...

"I can guess what happened," he replied, sympathetic. "He charged in, thinking he could make up the difference, right? He didn't know what he was up against. At least, I can hope he's ignorant and not simply reckless."

"If I had calculated correctly, I usually do, the outcome would have been less cruel. It had to be."

Raptor crossed his arms. "I think you're selling yourself short. You're damn right; it could have gone differently. You don't square off with an agent and come out alive. That's twice now, right? So, I have to wonder; how are you not dead?"

Jessica's cat-like gaze tilted to the hollow ceiling above. "Accurate threat assessment, time, and friends. Mostly friends."

"You're the reason he's still alive," Raptor assured, glancing Shannon and Valerie. "You're the reason why we're here, you're the reason how we're here, and I hope you're the reason we'll make it out of here."

Shannon approached Raptor, too. "I'm sorry about what happened too, man. Sorry about a lot of things, but the whole ride has been hella more unpredictable than I imagined." She touched his shoulder. "And the most I can do for my friends is be their friends."

Raptor cocked a brow. "You read a lot, don't you?"

"Of course, I do."

The knot in Jessica's back began to slack when she felt footsteps. Raptor squinted past her, nervously. "Is there a redhead behind me?" she asked.

"Apparently, you're important," said Beelz.

"Technically, I was right." Jessica turned, wincing. "Looks like we both made it, near-insurmountable odds notwithstanding."

Clothed in nothing but black, cigarette between her lips, and muscular arms on her cargo hips, Beelz wore the eyes of a fox on the prowl. Not far behind her crept the boy wonder, Boros. In complete contrast to Beelz's laser focus, the kid advanced with eyes averted.

"The leaders of this cell are asking for everybody in the main hall," Beelz continued. "Grab your posse and report, Raptor."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied enthusiastically.

"Ma'am?" Jessica, Valerie, and Shannon said in unison.

Monarch looked over his shoulder and into the nearby tunnel, at a marching collective of men and women who resembled the lines at a J-Rock concert. "Looks like we're taking that coffee to go," he said. In cliques, people on the platform started down the underground avenues.

"When in Rome," said Jessica, following the uniforms. Alongside Raptor and her friends, too many new faces sprung, the base not unlike the one back under New Sumer. Some structural differences cropped up here and there.

The tunnel leading from the platform was dark and cramped, compared to the one in New Sumer. Like a subway, adjacent corridors and doors lined every underground detour. But disturbing, so far as Jessica was concerned, was the utter lack of symmetry. Entryways of every shape were detrimental decorations on the wall of rock. They distracted her until she saw a familiar face outside the marching column.

"Hey, is that Chris?" she said.

Lean in Sub Terra fatigues, the young member had his nose in holographic jet turbines. It was indeed Chris Tsushimoto.

Valerie thrust her hand in the air. "Hey, Sushi!"

The young face looked up from his tablet, oblivious, then homed in on Valerie and saluted. "Hey there, cool girls!"

Valerie waded past the crowd. "Que pasa, Chris? Glad to see you made it."

"Glad I can say the same! I wasn't so sure who the welcoming party was for, but now it makes sense."

Jessica blinked. "Wait, what are you implying?"

"It's you," he said. "Commander Wessex has to be calling the meeting because of you. There's gonna be a new initiative based on the intel you brought. Amon was in a tizzy."

Jessica scratched her head with Valerie and Shannon in sync.

"You really didn't know?"

"Uhh, no, said Jessica.

"Huh..."

A heavy arm tap, and Jessica turned around. It was Raptor, who's eyes sank into a glare.

"You're going to need to be up front for this, Lynx," he said, gesturing toward the end of the tunnel. "That's the name they know you by."

"Who's they? And what does they expect from me?" she said.

"You'll meet them soon. Just channel that energy you've been storing. Trust me." As the Lieutenant departed down the tunnel, Shannon grabbed Jessica's hand.

"If it's any consolation, baby girl, I'm glad it's you and not me. I'll be on the sidelines though, encouraging you and shit."

"I guess being a genius does have its downsides," said Valerie.

Nothing but. Considering Raptor's words, she latched onto a speck of motivation to carry her through the day. Morning left time to prep and make the night worthwhile.

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# Chapter 23 Brass and Brains

The ever-present symbol of Sub Terra was a fist rising out of Earth. Defiance had been stitched on every uniform, every banner, and emblazoned on a gargantuan, widescreen television monitor. In this case, it was also screensaver mounted over a platform some feet above the floor. The platform convexed outward like a stage, to a hall full of diligent uniforms: theirs were the arms and eyes of a rebel gallery.

Jessica wondered how rebellion might work in reality. Banner and banner to the left and right, the mark of resistance was weighted by the promise of sacrifice. She caught a glimpse of it in the forest, and it was dour... mildly put. Reality had placed hundreds more men and women on the bottom of the underground base, chins upturned to the platform in mega anticipation. They probably knew all about sacrifice, so served a cause interconnected by resolve.

Nothing less could have drawn them to this life.

Wherever there was a cause, there was authority—why Jessica carried her gaze to Monarch. Alongside him, on the sturdy platform, a few notable characters stood before the crowd. Sub Terra's insignia at their backs helped project some gravitas. By acquaintance or deduction, she could guess every single one of their identities.

Monarch: commander of the New Sumer cell, possibly the biggest cell in the territory. He still sported a Sicario suit, tying himself to the grunts below. A soldier, first and foremost, yet exuded clout.

A mystery man stood next to him. Shallow creases on his sun-tanned complexion placed a wizened soul, yet not as wise as one could go. Like the asymmetry of their surroundings, he had an unkempt beard, but his blue eyes were sharp, like the dark-collared uniform that embraced his lean figure. So far as the meeting concerned itself, there was nothing more formal. And as far as Jessica could guess, this was Commander Wessex.

Then there was Amon, still wearing sunglasses inside. He had to be more important than Jessica originally conceived. Despite his behavior, he had a very controlled gait and poise, both of which came naturally. He had the quirks of a hacktivist in conjunction with a warrior's presence. Those sunglasses might have been the prop to an act... or maybe they saw through clothes.

On a stool, apart from the Sun-Terra higher-ups, sat a stranger wrapped in a trench coat, sunglasses, and endless bandages. There may have been skin under his coverings, but aside from his height, his features blended into the background.

Together, the leaders' esteem reflected in the stance of Sub Terra. Approximately half of the cliques from the previous tunnel mob had assembled into perfect columns that put their surrounding symmetry to shame. Lines of clean green, red and grime, dark blues and greys: uniforms, jumpsuits, and military kit. At the behest of the columns, next to the platform edge, several officers had formed a line. Among them stood Raptor, Beelz, and Boros.

Many more Sub Terrans anxiously waited near the one-way tunnel, those who belonged to other cells. Theirs were the familiar faces Jessica met underneath the city: The motley crew, the eager troop from the nexus, Chris, Dissent, and more. Contrary to them and everyone else, Jessica sat cross-legged, back to the wall, inconspicuously spectating. Her little corner where she tried but failed to avoid the stereotypical introvert role, made worse by the absent look in her eye. With all essential personnel present, Monarch commenced.

"Let's get right down to it. At roughly 0100 hours yesterday, a batch of groundbreaking intel fell into our hands."

That's one way of putting it.

"Observe."

On the large screen, detailed isometric renderings of New Sumer spun before the rebel throng. 8,000 Pixels of architectural precision. Within that detailed panorama, several strokes of holographic red pulsed.

"Asgard has started funneling into the city, which is still reeling from the Fourth of July terrorist attack. That would explain why people have accepted these haphazard changes. Maybe, they believe it's temporary. Unfortunately, the build-up isn't confined to New Sumer."

Commander Wessex then stepped forward and commandeered the crowd with a low, throaty pitch. "Pine Rim brought greater ripples than we anticipated." The mega screen backed into a top-down view of New Sumer. "Our little incursion on 15 and Superhighway 220 did nothing to placate matters. Among the dead, local law enforcement identified two Azarean civilians."

Agents, you mean.

"Unsurprisingly, the Azareans have adeptly weaved their web of lies. From the data that Amon and Dissent sifted through, we discovered that Spearhead is mass-producing military-grade weapons. Our fear is, they will establish operational strongholds near independent territories carved by the Geneva Terrestrial Accord. Thanks to recent events, rumors of an insurgency—even on the fringes of Eden sprawl—could lead to a hostile foreign policy. Goliath, being a private entity, needs permission, or an invitation, to tread Union-free soil."

Asgard can't just march into the city, so Goliath orchestrated this terrorist incident to get authorization. They'll pretend they're here to protect people, but they're looking for Sub Terra... They've gained public favor...

"Of course, nobody knows the truth," Wessex continued. "The sight of militarized police will be the norm before long. Has anyone kept tabs on Camstagram headlines?"

There's still no accounting for SK-3's weaknesses.

"It only gets worse." Amon stepped to. With his phone, he filled the screen with screenshot after screenshot of populated hangar bays; aliens and humans were assembled in military uniforms. "The government placed the Azarean Expedition Front on standby. These images from a recruit's private device confirm deployment preparations on the Baldur Space Station. More images are surfacing across social media. The following hashtags are trending: #NewSumer #pinerim #neverforget ##asgard #azareansftw #won. Inside information has been scarce ever since our primary informant was compromised."

Informant?

"Lynx..."

Jessica lifted her gaze to Wessex, who extended a beckoning arm and a half-hearted grin.

"Monarch tells me our strategy owes itself to your struggle. For that, you should stand and be recognized," he said.

Warily, very warily, so warily that her bones were stone, Jessica stood up and carried her legs to the platform. All eyes on her, she swallowed her train of thought, and, upon lifting her right foot onto the platform, likened the scenario to Commencement. Only instead of students, it was a mature audience of resistance warriors. And instead of school faculty, these were military chiefs who could be charged with treason. It seemed a little bit out of the norm for a teenager.

Wessex threw his voice. "Our intel came through valiant and coordinated sacrifice, ladies and gents. One civilian has survived and made retaliation against the regime and the Azarean private sector possible. Treat her as an honorary member who will be invaluable to our efforts, moving forward."

When the hell did I sign up?

The room responded with a loud and uniform salute, which brought back the knots in Jessica's back.

"Every division must stand in synch for what comes next," the commander continued. "Meticulous coordination is the key to dismantling the first Spearhead installation. Intel will handle the insertion points and ground routes, but we'll need to be resourceful if we hope to consolidate—"

Jessica flinched out of anxiety. "Hold on! Slow your roll for a second?"

Brow up high, Wessex anchored his middle-aged mug for Jessica. "What is on your mind, Lynx?

"Where's your plan to take down Goliath?"

"We're in the middle of that."

"No—nonono. Where's the...

"Where's your plan to bring down Goliath Headquarters?"

Interrogative murmurs started throughout the room. Like most folks present, Wessex gawked at Jessica in hoping to gauge her level of crazy. However, the stares and the murmurs bounced off the girl's hardened demeanor.

"We cannot be so bold as to assault the lion's den just yet," said the commander. "Our contingency for Goliath's abrasive actions is to defang the viper: infiltrate Spearhead, neutralize their labs, and topple their fighting ability. Stealth operations would limit their potential as a hostile regime."

Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose, her head fell, and her brow crushed from deep disbelief. You can't be fucken serious...

"Plus, we would have to charge a lot of rotors for an assault on the city," added Monarch. "It would be a risky stretch of our resources. Forget about getting enough operatives in the headquarters; there's no safe rendezvous. Our airships would be spotted miles outside of the sprawl, no tunnel leads close enough, and above all, we'd lack the element of surprise."

"You sound scared," said Jess.

"Whatever I must feel to keep my head in reality."

"Accept reality, then!" Jessica fixed herself upright before the big crowd. Her lean figure focalized, thanks to the red vest, and tingling, her glossy eyes surveyed the faces below and throughout. "I met a Goliath Agent, okay?" This is how close we were"—pointing from herself to Wessex."They know what we have; I know what they want; they know what we'll do. Sub Terra is supposed to be a counterweight to the Azarean regime. Out of a thousand permutations though, I say with 100% certainty that Spearhead is expecting you, which leads to variables beneath a dismal chance of success. They will match Sub Terra move for move until you're cornered... like the Woodsmen."

"In the interest of time, then, tell us where you're going with this, Lynx," Monarch said.

"Goliath's monopoly on information has got you beat a hundred times over." Inquisitively, Jessica locked eyes on Amon. "They've literally gotten away with murder for the past hundred years. Seen the data yet?"

Amon removed his sunglasses, revealing grievous blue eyes. "Dates and organization in Lynx's data paint a pretty morbid picture of conspiracy," he said. "Assuming we did broadcast that data through the proper channels, it could cripple Goliath's any chance of martial domination.

"But without a better way to disseminate information, there's no guarantee our damning evidence would sprout beyond the lowest rumor mines of 4Chan. And we can't trade lives for clickbait headlines. There's no blanket solution for waging an information war... which sucks."

"Amon didn't keep us out of the loop," Monarch rejoined. "Nothing solid can come of treason in a chip. Like I said the first time, we cannot credit acts of terrorism to an Azarean conspiracy, with the exception of your Pine Rim evidence. But, as Amon said, there's no way to make it stick."

Wessex nodded. "Dissent is still the cyberspace screen between our operations and the public eye. They cannot prioritize a task whose potential for success is illusory, not when news outside the corporate network can be so easily denied and discredited. I don't think we should place our hopes on social media justice."

Jessica gritted her teeth. "Which is why hacking Goliath from the inside is your only bet."

"I want to hear what she has to say," said Amon.

Wessex furrowed his brow. "You're willing to place stock on Lynx?"

"She's the smartest person here!" a voice yelled.

Valerie fumbled forward, toward the front of the crowd. A healthy curiosity overtook the room, perplexed faces homing in on the pushy brunette. Again, Jessica's eyebrows crunched into her eyelids. She knew Homegirl meant well, but she just had those moments...

Valerie lifted herself onto the platform. "All you have to do is listen to what Jessica is saying, and that's half the work done for you," she said as if spreading common knowledge. "I used to think she was smart, then found out she's a genius."

"This meeting is now an informal occasion, it seems," Wessex muttered.

"Quickly, Jess! What's four-thousand, five-hundred and thirty multiplied by... one-million, nine-hundred and... thirty-four thousand... four-hundred and fifty-two?"

"I'm not that fast," Jessica scoffed. "But it's 8,763,067,560"

"What is the square root of Pi?"

"We can't be here forever, Val."

"What's the Capital of Oceania?"

"Sydney."

"What's the equation for perpetual energy?"

"Enough!" Monarch interrupted. "This is not a Q&A session. But if your cognition is everything it appears to be, is it safe to assume you have a plan to infiltrate Goliath?"

"Do you really suggest allocating resources and manpower based on the whim of this civilian?" Wessex remonstrated." Did you not just recruit her?"

"Well," Jessica shrugged nervously. "It's more like... a collaboration. And to answer your question, Monarch, yea."

"I'd listen to what she has to say," said Raptor, standing below the edge of the platform.

Monarch crouched several feet from his head. "Is that my best lieutenant vouching?"

"Yes, sir. I am on the side of Lynx and Wildcat. Both cats."

Monarch stood up with a final, slight nod of approval. His vague smirk pointed at Wessex, and his peer's defiant grimace relented after a long sigh.

"Very well," Wessex said, folding his hands. "You have the floor, Lynx. Tell us your plan to scale Goliath Headquarters."

Jessica trepidatiously inhaled and mouthed a "Thank you" to Raptor, who nodded in approval. She then straightened her lips at Valerie before planting her focus on the crowd. The whole of Sub Terra lent their ears.

Deep breaths.

In a sleight-of-hand manner, Lynx hardwired Sub Terra's large monitor, to which she then fed data from her Vambrace. The monologue that followed stole character from a university lecture. There was wit, jargon, and a shameless air of eccentricity.

"Over the past year. I have accepted several freelance tasks from these divisions and can tell you which ones keep to themselves. Now, according to the data that I—Ich, ho, yo—freed from Goliath's chip, and judging by the dimensions, there are 90 accessible levels in the building, and they come with unique designations. There's no way to account for every level, but the points of interest are here: 75: Synaptic Interfacing; 76: Biometric Weaving; 77 through 78: Artificial Synthesis; 80 and up are uncatalogued. But, since everything underneath deals with business divisions, online services, and Goliath's usual PR spiel, probability suggests the top levels are reserved for the sinister applied sciences, and I'm willing to bet 90 is there communications nexus. In other words..."

Fluidly and concisely as able, Jessica explained Goliath HQ's architectural layout. From Insertion points, to escape routes, to security redundancies, to secondary redundancies and floor overviews, she sang a concert of invaluable intelligence to the room. Then she did it again, hoping hundreds of Joes and Janes could commit the gist to memory. Further, she synched the lecture with a series of diagrams. Her hand danced on the holo-brace and highlighted every note-worthy point on Goliath's megastructure.

Wessex raised his hand.

"I know what you're going to say," said Jessica. "How do we spread the evidence. Right? If you can get me into the Nexus, I'll broadcast Goliath's incriminating dialogue of Pine Rim throughout the intercontinental Eden network. Make Azarean epistemology catch fire. Everyone digs deeper into Goliath's business, social media buries the government, and everyone will take sides. Azareans fall into the limelight, not on their own terms."

"And what is your plan for neutralizing their defenses?" a voice interrogated. That husky voice.

Jessica veered inquisitively and saw Beelz stepping onto the platform, Boros nearby. They made the hairs on her skin rise. Beelz took her time inspecting the bright diagram, casually crossing her hands between her elbows.

"We lack a detailed blueprint for what's inside that tower," the redhead said. "More importantly, we don't know what top-level security looks like."

Boros snapped his fingers in agreement.

"Beelz and the Boros are right," said Monarch. "This is Goliath: A cutting-edge supergiant with the world in a vice grip. We don't know the horrors they've been cooking up in that place, despite our best efforts to find out."

"Can't be worse than what you'd find at a Spearhead black site," said Jessica.

"Variables," Beelz hissed. "Asgard will be there, bet chur computational ass on that. Other forms of lethal security? Likely, whether it's automated, cyber defense or brute force. I posit all of the above."

"Goliath's data is a start point for an order of operating," Jessica exclaimed. " And I have a very strong idea of what they're cooking up: prototype mind control, energy weapons, studies of the human genome. Anything they've developed will get worse if we let them stay where they are. That's a promise."

Monarch frowned. "None of those things you mentioned were on the chip you gave us."

Jessica flashed a BB-8 chip. "No, they weren't."

"You are clever," Beelz cooed. She tapped the tip of her index finger on her chin, deliberating. "The girl is right about one thing." Boros snapped his fingers three times. "Human experiments would stain the upper floors of that towering phallus. Day-in and day-out, airships land to drop off and haul mysterious cargo." Beelz's green eyes suddenly blazed over the room with somber intensity. "I vote we infiltrate Goliath, so long as I come along."

Jessica flinched.

"I second that," said Amon. In his stiff stance, he mirrored Beelz's resolve. "But I'm going to need to hold down the fort if you want a minute-by-minute analysis of the situation."

Wessex cleared his throat. "I understand the need to act, but I can't be bloody mad in suggesting we update our preliminary intel? Which takes time. Otherwise, the op could deteriorate into a dog's dinner. Our A-team is still in the field. Odds improve if we wait."

"Assuming Goliath doesn't Sub Terra-proof their base," said Valerie. "Ahora, right now, has to be the best time. Wouldn't it be weird if, right after a terrorist attack, there was another fight in the city? Wouldn't people lose faith in Asgard, at least? Plus, like homegirl implied, I doubt they're expecting us."

"There's another variable," Jessica muttered under her breath. "How would we steer people clear of Goliath..."

Raptor chimed in. "Sacrifice might be something we have to accept. There's virtually no way around it."

"I don't have to accept anything."

"Then you'll crack like you did in the forest," he said matter-of-factly.

Jessica blinked as Raptor faced his superiors.

"Success rate improves if we act now," the lieutenant continued. "Waiting, sitting here on our butts, gives Asgard more time to find us. They'll scour the countryside after they've mopped up the forest. That's my two cents, which is why I volunteer."

"There's a lot to lose," Monarch said, cross-examining everyone. "If we enact Lynx's plan, we'd need nothing less than our best. There are a lot of wheels to grease, a lot of alleys to squeeze through. Cyberwarfare and weapons specialists are essential."

"You've got Beelz and me."

"Phisto, Levi, Sun, and Castro would be invaluable," said Wessex. "A few days and they'd be back and ready as rain."

Who do these mysterious names belong to? Shaking her head, Jessica insisted, "Time is not on our side, Commander Wessex."

"I would like some backup, too, Wessex," rejoined Beelz, "but I would also like to see Goliath burn by midnight."

Monarch cleared his throat, surveying the faces of his subordinates across the hall. "Lynx is right. We could stick to the original plan and risk our assets over an unpredictable period of attrition, or we can risk them now, today, but save more lives tomorrow."

Commander Wessex caressed his unseemly beard. Despite his indifference on display, he inhaled normally. "First, we need a clean method of infiltrating the city."

"We narrow it down," said Jessica. "Down to the areas that require zero notoriety. We hack each tethered system and feed camera loops after undermining their redundancies, which could take time."

"We can help with that," said Amon.

"Cool. We can also break surveillance and disguise the breach as an after-effect of the last one. If we can find a conduit that's connected to the right security port..."

Jessica's fingers danced on the interface of her alluring brace and retrieved surveillance photos of New Sumer. "Using nothing but snapshots, I can determine and define local patrol schemes." Self-assured, she maintained eye contact with the crowd as she retrieved her tablet from her backpack. "Through a complete review of city cameras, we can undermine surveillance. Goliath's own hardware is the key. " Then she looked down.

"I..."

Streams of thought crashed against one another. Her tablet illuminated the face behind Pine Rim's destruction. He had a grim, convexing nose, stubble, and blue eyes without the face paint. Unconsciously, Jess's fingernails clawed at the screen until her belated focus returned to the rebel audience. They were a mystified crowd.

"One sec," she said, reaching into her pocket. She retrieved Dexter's device, the touchscreen with a single blip. There was little doubt in her mind, when she first laid eyes on it, that this tiny tracker contained Malvis' location. Wherever he was, Asgard would follow. Shivering and hoping no one noticed her swift foray into sorrow, she quietly exhaled, "I'll enter the city first."

Monarch scowled. "How do you mean?"

"The first step is getting people inside, right? Playing with some extra stealth? I'll get it done."

"We're talking a one-way ticket. We can only sneak in a few operatives, here and there, if we hope to stay on the enemy's blindside."

"Blindside?" You would have been a good friend, Jess. "No!" Jessica snapped back. "I can think of another way."

"By all means," said Monarch, waving her to the crowd.

"Jess..." Shannon rose up the platform, concern wrinkling her face. "What do you hope to gain by going back into the city?" she asked. "We were lucky to get out the first time."

"No, we weren't. We had help," Jessica said. She inhaled through her nose and closed her eyes. A deep breath, then a smirk crossed her pale features. She turned to Beelz and little Boros, deriving a use for the best minds before shooting another glance at Amon.

"I need your help."

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# Chapter 24 Neon Boughs

In the heart of the city, where technology and civility blossomed neon boughs of humanity, Jessica set her feet on the clean sidewalk and nearly stumbled. A realm familiar yet alien, a realm of light, expanded before her very eyes. Illuminated billboards, lies, and transparent girlfriends were all the rage, the trends nowhere more saturated than in the city. So, it was no wonder anyone could move mountains in the dark. Distractions took the form of labor, entertainment, and the next topic. Bliss was the incontestable substitute for freedom.

She never realized the amount of intake the city incurred, until after one night in the woods. The outpour of information now felt like a bombardment, and she wondered if it was exclusive to the way her memory worked or if it was common to everyday people. Elsewhere, in the forest and the canyons, her mind had found reprieve.

Under the cover of a black hoodie, she deftly navigated the urban heart of advertisements. Sights and sounds of ghostly faces interspersed through city traffic, and hundreds of vehicles skimmed by at their spectral pace. In the middle of urban splendor, she realized that humans needed voices in their heads to remind themselves of themselves.

You can do this, Jess.

"You can do this."

You forge algorithms and analyze quantum dynamics in your sleep. You're the master at Legion Leagues, and you've already caught 'em all. You can do this.

She peered backward, to lay eyes on the dark tower. The sight of Goliath HQ made her rethink the time required to uncover its secrets. How might someone scale such a fortress? Beelz and Amon had their due intel and had embarked on their mission at her request. If Sub Terra could overcome Asgard, she could accomplish one little task.

Down the avenues of nightly New Sumer, toward Aurora Bar & Lounge, she memorized every camera. Of all the places Azareans spent their leisure, it was one of two humans attended.

One by the Slush-O, one by the Milquetoast Bar, two by the Step-Up Dance House, and another flanking the Halo Café.

Surveillance didn't catch her face until the very end, as she stared directly into a sidewalk camera. Despite possibility, the city had to sleep. A woman in a poncho tripped across her path.

"There is no light without blackness and despair!" The crazy woman shouted sweet nothings from the sidewalk and walked with the gait of a nutcracker, gyrating her arms. All Jessica could do was snicker and admire the performance. "We must accept that real knowledge, people, real knowledge is the extent of your own ignorance!"

Jessica strolled past the ragged woman and through the sliding wood, into Aurora. Inside, warm colors and flowery fragrances smothered her senses; the interior noise level was only slightly higher than expected. The scent complimented the humble light over hardwood surfaces, reducing all stress from the eyes. Customary of the most luxurious joints, the wood was smooth and authentic. Only the patrons diluted the atmosphere.

On her way to the bar, she pinpointed a group of comrading men at one of the spotless roundtables. She could gauge how much they drank by how loosely their fingers fell over the glass. The wood would be damp before long.

There was an open stool at the pristine counter of black lacquer, front seat to an illuminated rainbow rack. A drink for every existing color, if not more. Thin vapor surfaced out of the slivers between labels, exuding a chill that had no effect on the Azarean bartender.

"ID, please," he said.

Of course, she was being carded. Jessica lowered her hood and, without protest, presented the e-card. The Azarean took it between his bony fingers and slipped it into the handheld scanner, which returned a red light and blank beeps.

"How odd," he said flatly.

Jessica rolled her eyes. "What's the malfunction, best friend?"

"The reader is not reading, which is uncanny."

"Say what?"

"Excuse me for one moment—"

"I'm supposed to skip out on a drink because of terrible hardware?" Jessica scoffed. "Let's take a deep breath and try again. Unless faulty devices define Aurora now." Jessica formed a hypothetical frame with her hands. "Tech kerfuffle at Aurora: the closest we've come to service industry AI."

The Azarean's return glance may have indicated distress, but his perfectly aligned lips made for an ambiguous tell. "Apologies," he muttered, reinserting Jessica's card. A blue light blinked, and the Azarean breathed. "How may I serve you, Miss Misty Ketchum?"

Jessica scanned the racks. I'll take anything in a glass. Not Syringer. Surprise me."

"Very well."

Babel scrambled the ID scanner slower than she expected. Maybe he thought it was funny.

The Azarean began his sideshow mix, while Jess surveyed the lounge. Azareans had a bizarre admiration for abstract art. Abstract art with straight lines. She could admire the decorations on the walls, under normal circumstances, accept a little bit of color in her life. Too bad, she couldn't even turn away from the men nearby.

Beth's killer was sitting two tables away. His name was Stockwell. He had similar features to his terrorist persona but lacked the sinister face paint. Citizens of the deceitful sovereign. Furthermore, no CGI infringed upon his jowls, to misconstrue his appearance like on the Fourth of July. No matter the difference, even from a distance, she recognized his voice from the Goliath recording. In the middle of the moment, Jess questioned her ability to stay calm.

Stockwell surrounded himself with coats, a group of Neo-Zareans, trendy humans who copied Azarean fashion and ostentation. They appeared as nothing less than alien lackeys with their white coats, lenses, and impeccable hygiene. As he sat there, drinking and muttering nothings, Jessica contemplated how monsters moved from one day to the next. His head suddenly turned in her direction. Glasses, a stocky face, and a wide stubble entered her line of sight, and she flinched with sickness.

"Here you are. Sea Foam on the Sun," the bartender said dryly.

Stiffening, Jessica met the bartender and the glass. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Apologies for the earlier inconvenience."

Her cocktail looked like coral and foam with an orange slice. A single swig could help with what came next, so she gulped it down. Assisted by liquid courage, coupled with anger, she eventually left the stool and started toward Stockwell's table.

"Hey there!" she said louder than intended. The entire circle of coats turned. Stockwell lifted one eyebrow and carefully removed his blonde shades. The moment his lenses came down, something felt off. His eyes had no color but strong shadows. His face was entrenched with wrinkles and sags. Jess might've gone as far as to call him sleepless.

"Yea?" he slurred.

Jessica mustered as much fake enthusiasm as her grit could manage. "I saw you and thought you looked familiar. Are you in media or something?" That the best you can do, Jess?

Stockwell almost grinned, but then he looked down. "I've been in nothing major."

"What are you talking about?" his friend started. "He's been in Port Charlie and cameoed in Ships of Wrath and Intergalactic Diaries."

"I don't recall watching those." Jessica tapped her lower lip. "Anything more... recent?"

Stockwell broke concentration to stare at his glass. "No. Nothing. I'm in between things."

"Oh. Sorry to bother you, then." Not sorry.

Inconspicuously, Jessica ambled out of the building and took the cocktail with her. When she inhaled the night air again, acute wetness tipped her cheek. It temporarily curtailed the blinding city lights. Hand out, she caught a sprinkle of rain that was bound to flee. Hatred swelled in her gut, heating its way to a boil. She coughed vomit into the glass then, standing upright, gave herself room to fill her lungs and smash the glass on the floor. It was her alternative to screaming.

"Remember tonight, for it is the beginning of always!"

The crazy woman was still on patrol, throwing lyrics around when a recycle bot rounded the street corner. It promptly hovered to the shards of glass, where Jessica looked up. She sighed at the commonplace sight of an asymmetrical sky, a broken screen of light and mirrors.

"Ready, Babel?"

"Ready."

From her waist, she retrieved a scalpel. While the recycle bot quietly swept the glass, she bent over and made an incision through its panel. The bot stopped and spasmed with a red light on its interface. As quickly as the red flash, it stopped.

"I've successfully logged into the Emergency Response Channel and am now processing records," said Babel.

"Good." A brief glance in every direction revealed no one but the crazy hooded woman patrolling the vicinity. "Here we go..."

Jessica felt around inside the frozen carapace until a grin stretched across her face. Extracting a thin wire, she connected the bot to a chip in the palm of her hand. It triggered a red hologram that simultaneously hijacked every advertisement in sight. Before anyone could notice her tampering, the Emergency Response Channel interrupted the city.

It began as torrential static, at first, static that overtook every animation on every building and corner sidewalk. The discord locked every citizen's jaw wide open. Considering the last catastrophe, the public was frozen in fear. Per Jessica's prediction, people carefully funneled outside of the buildings and onto the streets, to witness the foreboding. That's why she waited outside Aurora. Stockwell and his clueless mug eventually dashed past the doors, amidst the other disquiet patrons.

"Citizens of the deceitful sovereign..."

"Citizens of the deceitful Sovereign..."

Thanks to those words, the streets devolved from ghostly to frenzied in the blink of an eye. Sobriety was nowhere more engraved than on Stockwell's gaunt and tired eyes as they stretched to the sky. Exploiting his mental stagger, Jessica snuck closer.

"How does it feel from this point of view?" she seethed. When Stockwell lividly met her gaze, his mouth was wide open. He reared his head and started running. His drunken sidewalk jaunt, however, led to an immediate stumble.

Jessica shoved past random pedestrians, dauntless. But in seeking to catch the man, she found his bar lackeys in her path. Their interference boiled the veins in her fist and caused her to mindlessly shove against them.

"Let me go!"

"What's your deal, girl?" one of them barked. A mysterious hand thrust and grabbed him from behind.

"You should let her go."

Stockwell's companion looked over his shoulder. The crazy hooded woman, faster than he could react, punched his nose and sent him reeling. She invited the rueful attention of the others. From a fighting stance, she quickly kicked the next assailant's cheekbone. Rattled by the mysterious kicker, Stockwell's friends allowed Jessica to slip free.

Drunkenness chased by pure fear ruined Stockwell's balance. Her target stumbled, disoriented, and so she tackled him to the ground then swiftly pushed herself upright. When the man's glasses fell, his pale eyes tossed in every direction. He began crawling away on his back.

Gait uncompromising, Jessica thrust aside the hoodie and strapped her black glove. She saw enough life in Stockwell's eyes, enough fear. A yelp later, he backed into an advertisement pole, where he saw his own face – In the playback, he was a resistance leader; in the real world, he was a cowering actor; in both, he was a terrorist. And he was pinned by the eyes of the Lynx.

Jessica stopped a few feet from his face, arresting his gawk of terror, and let the anger spill from her mouth. "Why the fuck did you do it?"

"I—"

"Don't even try!" She lurched and pulled the coward's hair into a bundle, making him shriek until his face merged with his own holographic likeness. "Why did you have to murder so many innocent people?"

"Hey, miss!" a voice yelled from behind. It was NSS, but she didn't care.

"You're gonna confess!" She pushed Stockwell's face into the pavement. "A terrorist's luck doesn't last!"

Hands over his own head, the shivering actor whimpered, "I didn't know what I was doing!"

"Pretend you're looking at their faces!" Jessica crunched her teeth at the sorry man. Impatience secreted down her skin, intensified by the arrival of security. They were accompanied by the crazy woman in a poncho, and Stockwell's friends were nowhere to be found.

"I didn't know I would actually kill anyone!" Stockwell rambled on. Trembling, he gasped, "It was supposed to be a regular gig: auto-crew, lights, camera, paid lodging..." The two security officers halted just a few meters away, dubious. then inched closer.

"Ma'am, this isn't a safe place. What is wrong with this man? Is he your friend?"

Jessica ignored everything else and raged in the neon light. Stockwell continued groveling on the floor. Before he got comfortable, without remorse, she grabbed and lifted him by his coat collar. "How did you bypass the countdown?"

"A phone... I didn't know it would blow up a building!"

Jessica let go; and as the sounds of the city returned, the wind brought something else. Chills lifted her watery eyes beyond the web of lights and to the night sky, while Stockwell continued his fetal murmuring.

"I was told to stay in my room. Nearby—told to standby."

The mysterious woman's hood came down at that moment, revealing Shannon. In front of Shannon, security eyed Stockwell's sorry state. They exchanged glances before one of them unhinged a pair of plastic cuffs.

"Who gave you a phone detonator?" Jessica demanded.

If Stockwell answered, she did not hear. An airship dropped from the city skyline then, supplanting the urban panic with a mechanical roar. It hovered in place, a dozen or so meters away, when the beak steered.

Malvis leaned out of the cabin, face scarred on one side with mild sears. He leaped from the deck and onto the asphalt, followed by two Asgard lackeys. Shannon hopped to Jessica's side, and both women stared at the staunch alien as he prostrated forward. They backed away, slowly.

"I knew you would find him, eventually," said Malvis, stopping just short of the miserable Stockwell. He looked down, examining him through a lens, then dragged his gaze back. "You are too resourceful for anything less."

Jessica glared, imagining that elusive opportunity to punch the lights out of him.

"Sir, the man below you just confessed to an act of terrorism," said security.

Since the Emergency Response Channel was still spurring citywide excitement, no one paid attention. Ahead of Malvis, his bodyguards suddenly stunned the human security duo into the ground. Their bodies shook as the agent tread over them.

"We have to run, Jess," said Shannon.

"Split up, girl!"

"No way."

"They don't want you, Shannon. DO IT!" Jessica snapped. She could feel Shannon's hesitation before they both turned their feet the other way. Neither looked back at their pursuers. For that matter, they couldn't tell if they were being pursued. Jessica ran over the speed of her heartbeat. But even in desperate flight, she sought something, someplace.

Speed. she needed to be fast minus her gravity board. Past the chaotic fray of city lights and fleeing lives, she eventually found the building she sought. It was an old-fashioned tower of brick and mortar. Inside, there was nothing but an empty lounge, an unmanned front desk, and another screen playing Stockwell's face. A glance back, beyond the doors, she saw Asgard chasing. Luckily, a flight of stairs led to the roof.

Halfway up the flight of stairs, leg soreness started to kick in. Just a little more, she kept thinking. No more conspiracies, no more running, no more dragging my friends through this nightmare. Fatigue in tow, hopeful prospects accompanied her all the way to the top, where she found the other side.

On the roof, reacquainted with the night sky, she recoiled at the sight of Malvis standing in the middle, waiting. White coat under the stars, boots on the concrete, hands behind his back, he stared like a statue. Nothing made less sense than his composure.

"You are the final piece," he began, walking casually. "Your allies—fellow traitors, Sub Terra and the operatives in the city, are apprehended. And what remains shall follow."

Warily, Jessica hung off his every word. Out of a thousand absolutes, she grabbed ahold of one. She would not surrender.

"In simple terms, you have failed, Lynx."

During his oral spit, she heard the door open behind her. Asgard stomped through.

Suddenly, there was a whisper in the wind. Like the chill across her skin, the whisper intensified. Malvis turned, revealing his metallic right hand, and saw what Jessica saw. A fleet of Asgard airships loomed over the dark horizon, en route to the city. The guards grabbed Jessica and shoved her to the ground. Her teeth clamped, anger retaining the last body heat. Vengeance burned at the forefront of her thoughts as her cheek scraped concrete.

"Sooner than I expected," Malvis said, almost in admiration. The flying lights shined brighter with his every second basking. "But there is no Asgard without rapid deployment. Today, yet again, you attempted to sow chaos. Unfortunately for you, our militant foothold in the city is now sanctioned by law. Terrorism is convenient in the emergency power it affords." Malvis turned, to lay eyes on Jessica once more. "But you already know that."

Jessica's detainers yanked her off the ground, so she could finally see the alien up close. Pride was hatched across both sides of the agent's face, across burn scars and unblemished white, as if the burns had revealed a hidden layer beneath the perfect facade. The two-faced Azarean removed his glasses. Those red irises only unraveled her distaste, a distaste that very subtly mingled with satisfaction.

"Now I know what's missing," said Jess. "You need a mustache." On the roof, she could breathe in the city and its many features, a view beholden to its share of skyscrapers. The gigantic billboard lights: all that blue, red, and white; all that red, white, and blue. Behind her, Goliath. In front of her, Malvis and the Asgard fleet. They had arrived, the howl of their engines casing the atmosphere before she could smile and say, "We're ending this tonight."

A green flare burst in the air, illuminating the rooftop. Malvis turned and peered at the lone airship above his furrowed brow. It lowered to the edge and as its tail swerved, the cabin revealed Valerie, Raptor, and an entire Sub Terra crew.

"Cover your eyes!" Valerie shouted.

Jessica broke loose from her detainers, ducked, and covered her face with her elbows. The next moment broke with a bright, chaotic bang that dismantled her other senses. Nevertheless, she would muster the energy to rise again.

When her vision came to, Asgard and Malvis were writhing on the floor, hands over their faces. A fraction of their pain rung in her ears, but with no time to waste, she ran toward Valerie's embrace. Raptor yelled something inaudible from the cabin, and the entire crew hawkishly watched the roof.

To their dismay, Jessica tripped and fell. She peered back and noted Malvis' hand around her ankle. Now, unlike ever, the Azarean's red eyes inflamed from a very human rage. That's when the hearing came back.

"HOW?" he cried.

"You've been blindsided!"

One of the operatives fired his weapon at Malvis, but the energy bubble deflected. The move prompted Jessica to cover her ear, so Raptor pressed the weapon down.

Relentless, Malvis crawled with one hand and ejected his blade from the other. Jessica dragged her glove across the ground then slapped his neck. The voltage shot him onto his back, which gave her an opportunity. She crawled over his woeful eyes, retrieved a rod from her vest, a little gift from Beelz, and wielded it directly above his face. The jitter made it tricky, but a few rapid blinks signaled a successful scan. Request fulfilled.

Jessica stashed the rod and rose before the airship She leaped from the roof ledge, into the cabin, Valerie and Raptor grabbing hold.

"Are you ok?" Valerie exclaimed.

Jessica balanced herself on the deck, inspected Valerie's Sicario suit, then inhaled the interior. Red lights, armored bodies, loads of equipment, and conviction. It was a snapshot of battle preparation.

"Let's go!"

Raptor's finger twirl gave the signal. Ascending, the pilots lifted Jessica and the entire crew, to rejoin the fleet of stolen silhouettes across the skyline. Everyone and everything that could be hauled into more than a dozen airships set their course towards the tallest structure in the city: Goliath Headquarters.

"Do you hear that?" Jessica said.

"Huh? What's wrong?" said Valerie.

"Sshhh."

The confusion carried over to Raptor's toppled brow. His entire team was puzzled as the sight of allied airships appeared on their flank.

No one spoke.

"It's all over the city broadcast," said the pilot, and he twisted an overhead knob. The playback echoed from the city and rung in the cabin. Before long, Jessica lip-synced to the lyrics.

"Sweet dreams are made of this..."

She closed her eyes and imagined Beth and her friends dancing. Dani's there. She thought about the last time they were together, about the way moments pass and how, every now and again, people unify then part, unaware it will be the last time.

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# Chapter 25 Curtain Fire

The scent of phantom rainfall tricked the senses while Jessica and Sub Terra soared toward the storm. Faceless tides braced every passenger on deck, their grimaces lit under the red diodes throughout the cabin: an ensemble of determination, anxiety, and fear. And just outside, outlined in the dark, an array of airships bobbed and weaved across the night sky.

There was a taut rope over and underneath the cabin floor. "Is something pulling that?" Jessica asked when a hand suddenly sprouted.

"Hey!" Two men grabbed hold of the hand and pulled Shannon's body up. Jessica nearly dropped when she saw her friend crouched on the floor, panting.

"That was freaken wild!" Shannon gasped.

On the verge of pulling her hair out, Jessica stammered, "What's your malfunction, Shannon? This is—it's a dangerous place to be. Hija-su-pinche-madre-fock-en-mother-of-a-cyber-loving-bitch-face-fuck-is-wrong-with-you?"

Shannon grimaced. "I wasn't going to let you guys go it alone!"

"We aren't alone!" Valerie retorted. "We've got a big ass group of trained people with guns!"

The grim eyes in Raptor's helmet said as much as Jessica expected. "We're locked onto our course," he said matter-of-factly. "There's no way to get off." As hard as she wanted to protest, nothing could be done. She would do the same in Shannon's shoes, but this wasn't some tour to survey from the sidelines. Better to be down there, indoors and away from the storm.

New Sumer darkened underneath a swerving field of vision. From a sea of neon to a checkerboard of lights to nothing but a series of flickers in pitch blackness, the entire city vanished. Raptor handed Jess an earpiece, and Beelz's husky voice came through to answer the question on her mind.

"Thanks to our agents, the city's power grid is offline. But Goliath won't be, not for long, just long enough to facilitate our breach."

Monarch's voice entered. "Lynx delivered on her word. We caught Asgard with their pants down in the forest. Thanks to their own ploy, the city's defenses didn't tag their ships. Malvis is out of our hair, and the emergency broadcast should have cleared the target area of civilians. But that was the easy part. We're in for the fight of our lives, so stay frosty and watch each other's backs."

"Four minutes, thirty seconds," said Amon. "That's your window to breach. Per the plan, Pisces will commence the attack on the 75th level."

"Expect the brunt of their resistance on the top levels," rejoined Beelz. "We'll have eyes on the landing pad, in case they try to extract VIP cargo. The good news is they're not expecting us. Advance teams, once the floors are clear, our secondary objective is the extraction of essential data.

"Lynx, you'll be dropped in as soon as it's clear. Aquarius and Scorpio will neutralize 77."

Jessica pressed her hand to the microphone. "And where will you be, Beelz?"

"I will be two steps ahead."

She has her own plans.

The key to keeping her friends safe, Jess realized, was keeping focused. At the very least, Valerie looked ready for the storm ahead. Homegirl's visor slid upward and revealed resolve, and no make-up for once, like on Shannon.

Raptor stepped in the middle of the cabin. "Pisces, Keep it tight! This is the chance we've been waiting for, so remember your training. No heroics. Watch the person next to you and keep your eyes on the prize. " He turned to Jessica and Shannon, handing each of them a vest because he'd accept nothing less than their protection. Though she winced to admit it, Jessica was glad it was him and not Dexter at the head of the pack.

On Shannon, the vest expanded and unfolded into micro-tiles over her joints. Handling the vest in the same manner, Jessica noticed the same eagerness on everyone's face. And before they could betray a breath of grief, it began.

Overhead, the dark form conquered the horizon. Incomparable to any other structure in New Sumer, the silhouette bore into their vision like a black hole, the airships like flies to its industrial mass ready to swallow them whole. Its magnificent base wedged outward like a pyramid, while the center floors erected and kept going until they pierced the night sky. Between heaven and earth, it could hold its own microcosm of secrets, which they couldn't hope to unravel in one night. The incarnation of darkness and presence awaited them.

Over a dozen airships split off into several vectors, each assuming its unique altitude and position around the gargantuan block.

"All squads report in," Monarch started.

"Taurus is a go."

"Scorpio is a go.

Raptor pressed his comm. "Pisces is a go."

"Gemini is a go," said Beelz.

The black vest quickly snapped together under Jessica's red. She fastened her goggles to the sound of prayer nearby, listening as the other squads sounded off.

"Surely, He will deliver you from the snare of the fowler, and from the deadly plague. His wings you will find refuge."

"Orion is a go."

His faithfulness is a shield and rampart...

"Aquarius is a go."

I will not fear the terror of the night...

"Leo is a go."

... or the arrow that flies by day...

"Sagittarius is a go."

...the plague that stalks in darkness,

"Capricorn is a go."

...or the calamity that destroys at noon.

Outside of the 75th level, they paused in a realm between space and time. Suspense encapsulated Raptor as he lifted a large gun with a foregrip and eight cylindrical cartridges. Jessica had played enough video games to recognize a grenade launcher when she saw one.

"Commence Operation: Curtain Fire."

Raptor fired the first shot. A high-velocity shell punched a hole in the glass, and more crackles ensued from every single airship. Fiery explosions would dot Goliath's surface, resonating like thunder in the wake of a thousand shards. Visors down, the operatives at separate latitudes latched onto cables and jumped from the decks, into the breach.

Raptor went first, then Valerie.

Jessica positioned herself on the edge of the deck for a better view, then peered through the smoke using thermal vision.

"Floor 75 comes with several unknowns!" she said. "The level below that is empty!"

"You can see what's going on?" said Shannon.

"I can."

Pisces' airship began patrolling the exterior. It circled the squads' advance every step of the way, while carnage of varied degrees echoed from within.

When Raptor, Valerie, and the team touched boots to the surface, Jess committed their thermal impressions to memory. Their wobbling forms quickly stomped to the other end of the floor, across blown office space, training rifles around every corner. A single unknown humanoid remained, and as the team advanced closer, the individual raised a handgun. Raptor fired a single shot that dispatched the unknown quantity.

"75 clear," he said into the mic.

Blood had been spilled. Instead of dwelling, Jessica upturned from the gunfire to Beelz's team on the 80th floor, adjusting the X-ray sensor until she noticed something else. "There are multiple Azareans on 77," she said. "I think they're expecting you, Raptor."

"Copy, Lynx. Raider 5!"

A breath of turbulence, then a gunship hovered into her 2:00 field of view. Its silhouette froze before its hull-mounted minigun ignited a blue flame and a deafeningly loud volley. Flinching, Jessica watched the Azareans on 77 get torn to pieces.

When the volley ended, Raptor and his team diligently proceeded up the stairs, while an airship reinforced the room with another squad through shattered windows.

Two souls managed to survive the airship, their bright yellow outlines cowering on the floor. Jessica pressed her microphone and spoke fast. "You've got two people who I think are non-combatants, Raptor."

"All the corpses belong to Goliath internal security," he replied, angling over the dead. Further inward, he reached the cowering people Jessica mentioned. "Two civilians. Standby..."

The lights powered on. Their return cranked Jessica's nerves into overdrive as a rotating turret lowered from the center of the ceiling and set its sights on Raptor's group. She blinked.

"Geddown!"

Raptor and his people dove for cover, but two were immediately carved by a barrage whose lethal cadence matched a bell chime swooning a thousand miles an hour.

"We're pinned down!" Raptor cried.

In the middle of the chaos, Jessica activated the Vambrace. "Target that turret, Babel!" She pressed herself against the rear of the cabin to compensate for the airship's motion.

"I've locked onto its targeting parameters," Babel said.

Jessica tapped a few final keys. "Shut down!"

The horrifying noise ended. Jessica found her feet, took a position beside Shannon, and surveyed the building. Several seconds passed before the dust settled and Pisces peeked to at the remains. Raptor crouched over his subordinates, checking their pulses out of mere habit.

Jessica couldn't stop drumming her foot. "Val—"

"Checking the room now," Valerie cut off. She emptied her gun clip into the ceiling turret and watched it collapse into scrap. "You should be able to come down now."

"Right."

Fingers clasped, Shannon prayed in silence.

"Get ready," said the pilot. A soaring screech then skipped across the sky and collided into the back of the airship. Fast and fierce, the world spun. The pilot lost control.

"We've been hit! Mayday, mayday!"

Jessica and Shannon clung for dear life. A swirl of scenery passed outside the cabin, and turbulence squeezed their muscles until they ached. This couldn't be the end.

"Land on 75! 75!" Jess cried.

"Hang on!"

In battling physics, the ship beak tipped toward Goliath HQ. In battling the joystick, the pilot eventually rocked and swerved into the 75th floor. Rubble and debris quickly rained every tumble of the way, but Jessica held on even after it hurt.

"Raider 1! Raider 1! What's your status?"

A resonant hiss resounded in the ears. When everything stopped swirling in a haze, Jessica inched her head above the overturned cabin. She was still alive. Her first concern, Shannon, had already risen from the metal husk, leaning out of the crooked doors to survey the room.

"Everyone okay?" she said.

"Part of me might be," moaned the pilot, trying to lift himself out of the tilted cockpit.

Jessica groaned and dizzily hauled herself out, nearly falling flat when the bottom of her feet hit the ground. Then, rocking, she tip-toed over to Shannon, which was a matter of eluding the glass and the flames. Regaining her senses, she leaned over the dented beak of the airship and helped pull the pilot's arms. His torso and legs eventually slid out of the steel frame.

"Thanks!" he panted.

"Can you walk?" said Shannon.

"I think so."

Eyes firing in every direction, Jessica veered from the pilot and crushed her knees for a second to breathe. "You managed to land without killing us, so we seriously owe you."

"Consider us even when you're done with this place."

"Jess!" Down the stairwell stepped a lean operative. The open visor revealed Valerie. She canted from a frown to relief. "Are you guys alright?"

Jessica glanced at the ceiling, mind on the battle above and the surprises lying in wait. Then she lowered to Shannon, who was sweaty and clearly rattled. "You okay here?"

"I'm alright. Why?" she replied.

"Whatever shot us down came from above." Jessica jogged across the room. "We can't afford to slow down." As she scurried up the stairs, Valerie nearly stumbled in watching her back.

Glass and splintered laboratory space littered their surroundings, the resinous scent of smoke proliferating the 77th floor. Raptor stood in the middle of it, over the sparks of the turret heap. Nearby, a stranger in a white lab coat was cowering in his broken nook, the subject of Raptor's interrogation. Alongside the lab coat stood a calm stranger in a blue jumpsuit. The scientist slipped peeks at the black pillar just left of him, a cylindrical block somehow left undamaged by the chaos.

"What's inside?" said Raptor.

The scientist hesitated, so Raptor looked to the mustached Janitor whose jaded frown disguised any sign of trauma. "I wipe the floors," he gruffly complained, "and I'm quitting after today. Someone else cleans whatever's inside that." That's when a Pisces operative stepped closer, ready to snap.

"The lieutenant's talking to you, Azarean lapdog!"

"Getting him excited is zero percent effective!" Jessica retorted. "We need answers, not some scientist dude quaking in his boots." Raptor glanced at them both before he fixed on his subordinate.

"Keep an eye out."

As the operative begrudgingly started patrol, Jessica crouched beside the scared scientist. "I need you to assist with a few security protocols before a bunch of innocent people become victims," she said. "I know about Goliath's secrets – Biogenetics, Artificial Synthesis, and Mutant Biopsy are just a few. There's no accounting for the sum of their weirdness, so do any of my mentions relate to whatever the hell's inside those black walls?"

The scientist, slowing his breath, nodded. "I'm a biologist," he muttered. "I study terrestrial fungi and bacteria then extrapolate their viral potential. We synthesize certain values from our experiments that, in scarce circumstances, lead to weaponization."

"English would make this go a lot faster," said Raptor.

Jessica leered over her shoulder. "Goliath is studying biological warfare."

"It is not predetermined!" the scientist defended. "Inside that safe room, you will find canisters to unique depressants and hallucinogens. A unique batch. We wouldn't house biochemical agents in the city."

"That's... good to hear?"

"They're still worth looking into," said Raptor. "Can we get in?"

"These were synthesized for Azarean subjects," the scientist hesitated. "But if you insist—"

"I insist."

Stumbling in stutters, the lab coat used his keycard to access the safe room. True to his word, the black walls slid above a transparent screen surface, to reveal a pair of large canisters shrouded in vapor. While Raptor examined the refrigerated environment, Jessica tapped the scientist's shoulder.

"What did you mean when you said these are meant for Azareans?"

"W-Once they graduate final testing, the strains will be mass-produced," he answered. "Th-that's what they told us."

"Who's they?"

"Guys," Shannon called, rising up the stairs with the pilot around her shoulder, "are we there yet?"

"Medic, give that man first aid," said Raptor.

The closest squaddie untucked the pilot from Shannon's arms. "Don't worry, I have him," she said softly, then laid him aside and retrieved a medical kit from her hardpack. The pilot gave Shannon a bitter-sweet thumbs up in parting. That's when Raptor grabbed the scientist.

"Do you keep records of your experiments?"

"Without an interface, all I have are my hand-written rambles in my desk." Unfortunately, a brief survey begot nothing but broken terminals and scattered debris.

"We don't have time for this," Jessica drawled.

Sweating, the scientist reached under a charred cubicle and retrieved an oblong case, which he hand-delivered to Jessica. Inside, she found nothing but a chip and scribbled sheets."Equations," she— handing the papers to Raptor—but kept the chip. "Kudos if you can solve them. But later." She started toward the next set of stairs. Raptor pushed the notes to his nearest subordinate.

"Lynx, wait, you don't know what's up there!"

Ignoring any and all protest, her feet took her to the top, where at long last she found a floor not utterly wrecked by the fighting. It even had that new room smell.

When Raptor caught up to her, he let low the rifle and tapped his commlink. "Beelz, come in."

"Now's your window to extract any wounded," the woman replied.

"Where are you?"

No answer.

Jessica, meanwhile, explored the uninhabited room of carbon fiber racks and sleek, streak-free tables. None of the low seats had legs. The silicon rows held no screens, just dark pads, and touched a pathway that split the area in two. Running parallel to the terminals, a glass screen delineated dimly lit storage lockers on the other side.

When Shannon and the other operatives arrived, Raptor gave the signal to investigate. Pisces began a vigilant search, scanning every nook through their weapons' sights. Stung by curiosity, too, Jessica reached the round panel planed on the cusp of the glass.

"Scan anything hanky, Babel?"

"A standard fingerprint algorithm," he replied.

"Looks like an armory. Maybe, we can just break the glass," Raptor said.

"And risk triggering some kind of payload?" Jess scowled. "Nuh-uh."

" If you can crack it, by all means."

"If you'd like," started Valerie, "I can cut off one of the hands below us and see if that works."

Ignoring Valerie's suggestion, Jessica powered the Vambrace. "Accessing all previous entries," said Babel, preceding violet doodles on the interface. Jessica manipulated them with simple strokes, sifting through a sea of alphanumeric.

"I realize now, Azareans are either amazingly ignorant or arrogant," Jessica hummed. "They write their administrative functions with their own language, and think the grace of its complexity alone would stop a human from accessing their TPUs." Everyone gaped within a snapshot of cluelessness. Contradictorily, Jessica hummed whimsically. With sequence after sequence that she swiped, the Vambrace incised and constructed a set of neon fingerprints on the pad.

"Access granted."

"I really need to get one of those," Raptor and Shannon said together.

Jessica was the first to step inside. With proximity the closest locker door turned transparent, revealing the contents of an Asgard uniform. A weapons rack jutted from the wall; pistols on the bottom, rifles on top. They were in an armory. A second rack extended. Empty. Perhaps because the weapons were downstairs. She wasn't interested in weapons, however. Further down, the last set of lockers revealed metallic slippers. "Take a look at this," she said. Curiosity placed a pair in her hands, and so she promptly sat down to remover her shoes

"Girl, you sure you want to do that?" said Shannon.

"I have a healthy curiosity, Shannon. If these are what I think they are, they're worth taking."

"Slippers?"

The cryptic footwear slipped over Jessica's socks with ease. As soon as she stood up, she triggered the metal's folding. Seamlessly, several layers adjusted around the girth of her feet and ankles. Once the boots had attached themselves, she softly kicked the floor.

Nothing happened.

"Tag it and bag it," said Raptor. Everyone else grabbed one of everything from the armory.

"No need to let it go to waste, right?" Jessica chaffed.

"The resistance we've seen so far means Goliath's got plenty more to defend. You gotta get up there as soon as possible."

"And we're wasting time."

"We're waiting for the all-clear sign."

"Which won't come until Beelz, Monarch, and the rest of your friends have their run of the—WUW!" Jessica was levitating. Awestruck, she pedaled her feet mid-air, trying to balance on an imaginary surface. The boots' propulsion worked well enough, proven just as Monarch's voice blasted through the comm channel.

"We have incoming!"

Jess floated over to the windows beyond, in anticipation of the next nightmare. She could almost hear them in the distance, like before.

Asgard.

There were enough wings on the horizon to swarm the upper superstructure with troops. Rather than panic, renewed vigor carried Jessica back to the armory, where she procured two additional pairs of slippers. These she handed to Shannon and Valerie before strapping her goggles and stealing a weapon from the rack.

"Where you at, Beelz?"

"Where are you going?"Raptor interjected.

Beelz replied first, curtly. "Investigating 82nd. Standby."

"I'm coming up," said Jessica. She aimed and fired at the window. Unfortunately, she couldn't shoot for shit; the gun recoiled out of her grasp, leaving her sheepish before and after the glass shattered. But she was glad to be rid of it. "Goddamn, that's very different from SIRE."

"I hope you're thinking this through, Lynx!" exclaimed Raptor.

On the edge of broken glass, Jessica stuck her head out into the open air and set sights on the dark curtain of upper Goliath. She pulled back and, with a single hand jive, beckoned her friends forward.

"Are you asking us to do what I think you're asking us to do?" Shannon said nervously. "I hope you're not asking us to do that."

"Same anti-gravity principle as the McFly Mark II," Jessica said, pointing at her boots. "If so, the soles should stop us from falling."

"That's a pretty big 'if.'

"She is correct," said Babel. "Propulsion will respond to leg, foot, and phalange articulation."

"Perfect. You get all that?"

"Nope," said Valerie.

"Cool." Jessica hopped out the window.

"Wait, you crazy bitch!"

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# Chapter 26 Demon of Dissent

Jessica was already floating to the 82nd floor, skipping past Monarch and his as they scrounged the divided blocks. They were searching—so far as she could tell—every nook and cranny of Goliath Headquarters. Beelz and her team had to be above the rest.

Past the sensations of weightlessness and wind, she entered the 82nd floor through a gaping hole in the wall, to land on scattered chunks of more wall. She was welcomed by muzzles, again, Gemini Squad's assault rifles. Clad in dark greens and their weight's worth of gear, they lowered their weapons as soon as a black figure stepped at their behest.

She wore slick plates on long legs leading up a utility belt of magazines and other gadgets; then black on a bulletproof vest, all the way up the headphones. Eyes below red hair harbored a burning evergreen. Beelz, stoic, pensively ticked her handgun against forehead goggles.

"Let me guess; 'You're lucky we didn't shoot you'?" Jessica mocked. "That's what you were going to say, right?" She stood up and faced down Beelz's entourage. Meanwhile, Shannon and Valerie tumbled inward, pedaling frantically to control their gravity boots until they unceremoniously hit the floor on either side of her. The fall failed to stop either of their gripes.

"Do that again, Jess, and I will murder you!" Shannon said.

"You crazy ass Puerto Rican!" Valerie jeered.

Neither could muffle the sound of encroaching airships.

"Step away from the windows," Beelz ordered.

Eyeing the redhead, Jessica and her friends stepped further into the damaged room and watched as two gunmen set down a mysterious box. One button-press later, the box sprouted a tripod with a mounted turret.

Beelz held her earphone. "We're transmitting the data." She was likely contacting Amon and Boros on a separate line. It may have had something to do with the man on the terminal behind her, stealing data. She was still thinking ahead, about the long war.

"Ships will be in range soon," somebody warned.

"Engage noise dampeners." Beelz clicked her headphones. Her squadmates pressed hidden buttons underneath their helmets, spawning blue LED lights on their visors. Their commander then gestured with a two-finger point, as soon as she made eye contact with Jessica. "There's an Asgard squad above us" she warned. Two squadmates took cover by the turret, the rest scattering throughout the room as she lowered her goggles.

A series of loud bursts carved holes in the ceiling, from which multiple grenades dropped. Jessica dived with Shannon and Valerie behind the nearest desk, evading the rumble and thunder. The grenades started spewing smoke when lines of rope unraveled from the ceiling and windows.

"Asgar—"

Beelz thrust Jessica to the ground and tossed a grenade with the other hand. "Cover your ears!"

Jessica punched her own earlobes when the sphere bounced from the ground to the ceiling to the wall, around the room, at high velocity. It fiercely echoed and stirred the eardrums so terribly that, when Asgard descended via cables, their surroundings devolved into a chaotic quagmire. The enemy covered their ears, yelping, one after another blasted off their cables by Gemini gunfire. The action was so automatic, Jessica almost scrunched her shoulders into fracturing. Beelz's team gunned down every Azarean despite the smokescreen.

The gunfire eventually stopped, and Beelz's voice reentered comms. "Our units on the ground are going to have trouble."

From all around, airships descended and hitched beside the occupied floors to retrieve anyone who would not or could not stay. Their proximal engines stirred mild tremors along the tower beams.

"We'll be sure to assemble a warm welcome party for Asgard's arrival," Monarch relayed.

Jessica poked her head out of cover and discovered all the rebels alive and well. Valerie did the same, scowling through her rifle sights. Shannon shivered while peeking more carefully.

"Is it over?" she asked.

"Worst comes to worst, we'll disable the elevators and access points, but don't expect that to stop them," Monarch continued. "Godspeed, Lynx, Beelz."

He said that like he's not coming back.

When the smoke finally cleared, Asgard corpses littered the 82nd level in a variety of awkward positions. Some were sprawled over the furniture; others swayed back and forth on their cables. Everywhere else, nothing but bullet holes and seared remnants.

"Data extraction complete," said Beelz's hacker.

Beelz turned to Jessica. "Lynx."

"Beelz"

"Tell me you used that scanner."

Jessica scowled. "Yes, I scanned Malvis's eye like you were hoping."

"Then you just made our lives easier. Which doesn't negate as many variables as I would like... but we've wasted enough time." Backpack swung over her shoulder, Beelz crouched and rummaged through the contents. She retrieved an item and raised it in the palm of her hand like a newborn. It was cubic, small, and portable. "Your ideal 3-D printer," she said.

Jessica delivered the rod; Beelz extracted a microchip from the bottom slit then placed it in the printer slot. They watched an eyeball manifest on-screen. Several ticks and a _beep_ later, Beelz opened the cube and retrieved what looked impeccably like the real thing. She examined the eye between her fingers as if it were a flawless diamond.

"There's nothing like using your enemy against your enemy" she mused.

"So long as it works," said Jess, wincing at the eye's lifelikeness.

"Too bad it's not the real thing."

Over her shoulder, Jessica caught a mirror of nausea in her friends' faces. Either from battle fatigue or Beelz's coldness, it was hard to tell. Above glass shards, hoping for clues, she decided to fasten her goggles and check the ceiling. Unfortunately, X-ray vision revealed nothing.

"I can't see through the top."

"Y por que no?" asked Valerie.

"If you're utilizing X-Ray vision, which I presume you are, then it's a good and bad sign," Beelz droned. "High chance a lead surface shields whatever's up there."

"Then the laws of mass distribution say there's very little storage," said Jessica.

"Good to know." Beelz gyrated her gun arm.

The tripod turret began firing through the window then, almost muffling Monarch's voice when he shouted through comms.

"Asgard is landing in force! Back to the chokepoint!"

A flick to the eardrums, loud crashes resounded from the bottom of the superstructure, while a muffled cacophony of engines, projectiles, and explosions formed the faintest tremors.

"Jess, let's go!" exclaimed Valerie, pointing to the bodies trudging up the stairs.

At the next door, Beelz cracked the security lock then let the grenade loose through a slit in the door. It briefly thumped across the walls before magnetizing directly back into her glove. "Clear!" she said.

In a world where Azareans go deaf and Beelz wears weird-ass earphones, I'm guessing that's an echolocation grenade... with bounceability.

Past more sliding doors, Gemini Squad found yet more dark rooms sealed behind glass screens. Beelz advanced in the middle of it all, in the middle of fire teams, as they cross-checked their surroundings. Then came to a halt. Several started reaching inside their hardshell backpacks.

"Are those what I think they are?" asked Shannon.

Beelz, like the rest of her team, was lifting armed charges. "They're parting gifts," she said, offering up the brick. "We don't have time to secure more intel, but we can make sure this place and its experiments die."

"The enemy's numbers are growing, Beelz" Monarch's voice interrupted. "You have a limited window while we hold Asgard—watch the flank and give it everything you got!" The turret on the floor below them wouldn't stop firing. And through the windows, loud volleys left streaks of deadly light in the dark.

Time to expedite this chaos.

With cat eyes, Jessica watched as they attached explosives to every support beam. The LEDs blinked from green to red.

Beelz and her men repeated the action on the next floor, which housed a grandiose lounge in front of a glossy white conference room. Every corner was home to an animated plant: a swirling stem whose sleeping petals housed blue bioluminescence; a cactus-like curiosity came with razor-sharp, pink leaves; a white vine stem sprouted dancing dandelions; fungi with glowing green caps that extended over one another like a lava lamp. They were the kinds of off-world wonders Jessica wished would decorate her room, but she had to abandon curiosity long enough to note the gigantic pillars around the conference table – They almost blended into their surroundings yet seemed oddly redundant.

Without a wasted beat, Beelz's crew set more explosives and returned to the stairs en route to floor 85. During their upward trudge, Monarch's anxious and heavy breath returned.

"Sub Terra, listen to me! Our Azarean friends have a new gunship. Don't expect this operation to last much longer!"

Sure enough, the view from up high gave an overlook of Monarch's forewarning. Jessica planted goggles on the horizon, utilizing night vision to see a massive craft flying far beyond the limits of the cracked window. Bigger than the rest, its large wingspan carried the promise of catastrophe.

Thus, despite every fascination, she couldn't afford to study Goliath's outer mysteries. One glance teased a myriad of secrets: glass around refrigerated canisters, vials with the image of a T-Rex; just the tip of an iceberg since there was also a robotic arm stuffed in its own cylinder, then a transparent orb holding sentient black goo. From green-glowing meteorite rock to an entire showroom for an antiquated car. Secrets. None of it made sense, and the strange pillars from the last floor erected up to this floor and into the ceiling. Level 86 presented something else entirely.

86 immersed one in its likeness to an alien realm. Dimly lit by slithering trails of neon along black walls, it had an antechamber with magnificent doors leading left and right. Cautiously, Beelz approached the right before it slid open in four directions. The next room was no different.

Jessica finally understood the purpose of the redundant pillars. Up here, they had shed their white shells in place of black spires spangled with a mysterious, luminous energy that flowered into the ceiling. Whatever circuits powered these alien generators powered the current room and whatever else waited above. Still, something stranger landed in front of her.

Curiosity lived in the strange containers littering 86's four rooms. Curiosity resided in their size. Capsules were scattered across the floor, each with a cable from a wired network that circulated and linked back to the room's epicenter. Valerie and Shannon gaped at the sight, so Jessica knew she wasn't the only one unsettled. Even Beelz seemed docile, standing amid the charcoal caskets. Her green eyes, their temporary absence, and silence betrayed rumination.

Done contemplating, Beelz wandered further inside. Part of Jessica even hoped she would leave because, when no one was looking, she logged into the central terminal. The next process required a bit of guesswork, but she had developed an affinity for language early in life: human, computer, and otherwise.

"There are humans in these," Valerie scoffed.

"I know," said Jessica.

"I-knew-it-I-knew-it-I-fucken-knew-it."

Shannon, rubbing her arms together, crept closer to one of the capsules. "Sick... Who could these people be? Why would Goliath keep them here?"

"Experiments? Wait. No—no, the message. That list that Amon pulled from the chip! Whatever the bullshit reason, they can't be left like this."

Beelz unexpectedly doubled back. "There's nothing to be done—" she said, rounding the corner, then stopped and stared grievously at Lynx. "What are you doing?"

Jessica returned a glare. Abruptly, the pods simultaneously cranked their tops and propped open.

"We're being overrun!" Monarch cried.

Beelz met Jessica with canines and a death stare. "You weren't supposed to do that."

"I did it," she replied then tapped her earbud. "Monarch! We're done. Order everyone out and extract us."

"Bullshit!" Beelz pressed her comm. "Monarch?"

No response.

"Are you calling off the whole mission?" asked Valerie.

"I'm getting us out," said Jessica.

Shoulders flexed, darting eyes and forming a fist, Beelz seethed onward. "You don't get to make that call! You're welcome to be a waste of space elsewhere, but Dissent is ending this today."

"These people may be the answer to everything, Beelz! Goliath, the regime, Spearhead, Asgard, Malvis—we can expose all of it. That's obvious, even if we're floors shy of the top. If there's even a one-percent chance of saving these people, if there's even a one-percent chance of their helping, it's worth getting everybody out alive while we can."

"Not all of us will fit in the ships, Lynx."

"I didn't think we would."

With a grunt, Beelz's grip loosened. She rubbed her forehead with the next order. "Help them out of the pods." Her squad followed the order without question. They took after Shannon and Valerie, who were already uplifting strangers from their caskets.

Jessica's friends never lacked initiative, even in her silence, which was a double-edged sword she had to face down. But as the crew of comatose strangers rose to consciousness, she goggled at a familiar face.

David?

"David?" exclaimed Beelz.

David Mourner was feebly lying in the hands of an operative when Beelz jumped to his side, holstering her sidearm. Disbelief colored Jessica's pale face as she crept closer to the sorry sight.

"This is what happened to you..." Beelz murmured, lifting the rest of him outside the capsule. Quivering, David's eyelids slowly opened. Brown irises on a pale face besmirched by utter surprise or shock. Jessica could only imagine the side-effects of hibernation in one of those things. Lumps in her throat, she scrounged the energy to speak.

"You know him?"

"He's one of our own," said Beelz. "He deserved better than this."

"He was the informant..."

Those were like the last piece of a puzzle. She panned across the room as more docile humans came to. Theirs were faces she had never seen before, but she pondered the stories they could tell, the secrets they could spell. That's before Beelz's watch blinked red.

Beelz noticed it, too.

"GET DOWN!"

Fire incinerated. Goliath headquarters had a new gaping hole, outside of which hovered an Asgard troop carrier. Beneath turbine screech, armed to the teeth, Azareans jumped into the tower. Beelz tossed her echolocation grenade, and lasers began flying in all directions. The strong winds were felt but unheard, debris reigned, and the floor fell to the mist of endless gunfire.

"10:00! 2:00!" Beelz pinpointed tangos beyond the walls.

Meanwhile, Jessica kept hers and David's heads down. Bolts of light scattered the interior in an exchange of dense fire that carved a storm. Operatives and Azareans fired, fell, and fired again. During one keen instant, a grenade explosion interrupted the spray, and a holographic shield flew overhead with the arm still attached.

Then it stopped, and in the reprieve, Beelz scanned the floor for casualties. When the dust finally cleared and the wind once again howled, several operatives lay dead.

"Where am I?" David mumbled. Apparently, the chaos had revived his awareness... and fear. The same applied to the rest of the waking—now excited—prisoners.

Alert, Jessica trudged across the room, where she found Shannon and Valerie together. "You guys all right?"

"I am a little bit," Valerie coughed.

Shannon remained flat on the floor. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Breathing a dear sigh of relief, Jessica stood up and sauntered toward the smoke and decay. She found David sitting upright, looking sober and unscathed but dazed.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

"I don't know." His squinting eyes careened until they fixed on her face. "You're the Tacquizza girl," he slurred. "There are no deliveries here..."

"There's not going to be much of 'here' left."

Outside the gaping hole in the wall, a charred and battered airship rose into view. Quickly, every man and woman who could still lift a gun brought their weapons to bear, until Raptor poked his head outside the cabin. In the Lieutenant's worn expression, willpower remained, and he invited anyone who could see him.

It was time to leave.

Valerie, Shannon, and the Sub Terra survivors escorted Goliath's prisoners to the edge of the tower's new exit. Raptor resided in the first of two airships off which he leaped to help others safely step aboard. The first ship would depart with a cabin full of wondrous and forlorn faces. The second took the place of the first, its pilot delicately balancing its hull over the tower's edge. During that interval in which grateful strangers rambled inward, Jessica watched David carefully.

"I think it's time you quit your job," she told him, offering a hand.

"Wait!" he remonstrated. "This is Goliath, right? Just—."

"We'll make room for you if we have to, David," Beelz said.

David grabbed Beelz by the shoulders. "You're here for something else," he panted. "Sixteen years, I've hung my cap in the enemy's locker. Whatever comes next, with my knowledge of Goliath's global network, I know we can make it count. And I can..." David flinched over his shoulder, saw Jessica, then returned his pallid expression to Beelz and whispered something in the woman's ear.

Right then, Beelz closed her eyes and nodded somberly.

When David turned around, the express resolve in his eyes reminded Jessica of the last thing she needed to address. It started with Beelz, to whom she solemnly said, "I guess you'll be staying until the next airship comes?"

"If," Beelz emphasized. "You don't have to think about that anymore."

The tower ledge brought horizon beyond New Sumer, dark as it may have been. Against the peak breeze, past the capsules and to the airship, Jessica paused where Valerie and Shannon were waiting. Raptor waited beside them, and despite fatigue in his eyes and cuts on his stubbled face, determination still accompanied his parting words.

"There's room for a few more!" He nodded to the cabin, at the huddled group of scared individuals. Some were middle-aged, others were very young, and one... one was Azarean.

What's the common denominator?

Raptor continued half-heartedly, bending his brow. "In case you didn't realize, you've done more than enough today!"

"You and everyone else! I think we have what we need!" She turned to her friends, grinning ear to ear. "Tell me you're ready to leave this place!"

"We have to go!" the piloted rushed.

"I'm ready when you are!" said Shannon. "Whenever. Wherever."

"Of course, you are!" Jessica laughed.

"Jess, are you ready?" Val prodded. "This was your plan, remember?"

"I know!"

"Whoever's going, get going!" Raptor exclaimed.

Jessica stepped onto the airship, followed by Shannon then Valerie.

With everyone on board, Raptor punched the side of the cockpit. Jessica counted the seconds and, gravitating from the ledge, regret, sorrow, and a sense of failure punctured the peace in her heart. Like a virus, they infected her thoughts.

"Take off your boots before there's an accident," she told her friends, then kneeled. Valerie and Shannon carefully removed each pair of prototypes.

"I'm afraid of heights, anyway," said Shannon.

"Me too." Jessica grabbed their slippers... then leaped from the ship's cabin. To her friends' horror, she fell toward the cavity, back to the top levels of Goliath Headquarters. That last second left insurmountable distance between herself and the airship. Over her shoulder, she imagined Shannon and Valerie's distraught faces carried away from danger. "I'm not done yet."

Her friends' voices screamed through the comms.

"What are you doing?" cried Valerie.

"It was the only way to keep you alive."

Shannon's voice cleaved into her ear. "That's not fucken fair!"

"Probably not."

"You don't have to do this!"

"No, I don't."

"Jess..."

She removed the earbud. Beelz, Raptor, David, and the remaining rebels spoke to her with the white of their eyes, and she nearly swore she saw admiration. At that moment, another ship's beak rose over the ledge.

Turning with the wind, the metal bird revealed Monarch onboard. Milliseconds later, Jessica realized something was wrong. Because he stood on the edge, alone, with terror-stricken eyes.

"Complete the missio—" A blade impaled monarch's chest, bending his expression to anguish. The blade's edge then retracted, leaving the commander to fall, hand over his heart.

Behind him stood Malvis, gnashing teeth with a devil's leer and facial scars. The mere sight of the alien choked Jessica's reaction, but Beelz reacted swiftly and accordingly.

"Blow it to hell!"

Every man or woman with a gun opened fire, Malvis' shield glaring from its repulsion. He stood upright in the face of the heavy barrage; red dead defiance smeared on his face.

"Eve!" Monarch screeched. He was still clutching the bottom of the airship. The man simply refused to die.

Malvis seemed none-the-wiser as he drew and rapidly fired his pistol, sniping multiple operatives in the blink of an eye.

Frantically, Beelz bit the safety pin off a grenade and lugged it at the cabin, but Malvis and his quick reflexes smacked it below. Monarch intercepted, clinging to the deck with one arm. He offered the grenade under a meek smile, letting Malvis grimace before the two sides of his face ignited.

The blast demolished the airship and sent it into a seemingly endless spiral down to the city streets. From up so high, it was an abyss.

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# Chapter 27 Share, Comment, Subscribe

Even Monarch's death passed like a ripple in a sea of moments, one equation in an algorithm. His people wanted to mourn, gaunt as they seemed, but there was no time to while the rest of the world beckoned. It was Beelz who gave the order to keep going, and Jessica agreed, trudging over the fallen on the 86th floor. One functional elevator carried the last operatives to the next level. And as the number blinked from 86 to 87, Jessica felt a hand squeeze her arm. She was met by the evergreen death stare.

"Make this count or else..." said Beelz.

Jessica pulled away. "I've been counting just to keep my head. Monarch died on the 1,687th second since the start of this mission."

The doors opened to a white antechamber. Dim lights, a single wall, and a line of doors reminded Jessica of the Tantive IV blockade runner from A New Hope, where Darth Vader apprehended Princess Leia. This was worse, a security checkpoint, which meant the other side held something important.

Each entryway had a pedestal with a round orb, like the one used to access the Azarean armory. Jessica approached the closest device then activated her Vambrace.

"Where'd you get that?" David asked, ogling the violet.

"Developed it with some help," she answered.

Beelz eyed Jessica's arm with similar curiosity. A single ding confirmed a successful hack before a strange scope lowered from the ceiling. Here, Beelz unveiled Malvis' replica eyeball.

"The final verdict," she said and pressed the iris against the scanner. A foreign voiceover spoke through invisible speakers. Almost no one understood the language, but the door opened. Jessica advanced, Beelz smothering her personal space to inspect her arm.

"Care to explain where you found that holo-brace?" said the redhead.

"Call it an heirloom."

Beelz stopped, compelling Jess to stop along with her. "You're not going to stand there and tell me someone just gave that to you. You know what that is..."

"Guys..." Raptor muttered.

Everybody stopped to observe the latest in a series of strange places. The room beyond the white doors was dark, ornate, and circuitous as if the interior decorator came from a murky otherworld. On all sides, to the non-discerning eye, the surface pattern of the walls was like flowing metal and swooning flora. And environed by something so alien, Jessica felt like an astronaut.

Her mind's eye brought a house of strange alloys and organic material that coalesced into a symmetrical sanctum. Most prominent about this interior, its rows upon rows of seats circled like the rings within a tree stump... or Saturn. From the outermost to the innermost, they shrunk, enveloping a spherical device directly in the center of everything. Around the room, against walls and equidistant from another stood four major support pillars – Energy shone from incandescent lines inscribed along the contours, their bright green like the inconsistent texture of flowing water, and they extended and bent high overhead, unifying at the zenith.

Beelz veered from the room's macabre majesty, distracted by flashing blue light on her watch. "Secure the door," she ordered. "Guard this room! Make sure no one else—Azarean or otherwise—follows us." The last three members of Gemini did as told and sentried the long series of doors.

Jessica ran her fingers across the seats. "If I were a fly on the wall..." She shifted to the round instrument at the center of everything. This orb reminded her of the nexus back at Sub Terra HQ. What secrets did it hold? The question burned the tip of her tongue.

They use this place to commune.

At the same time, Raptor ambled closer, gawking at the mysterious device.

"Capture," Jessica whispered.

"I'm picking up additional energy readings above us," said Babel.

"Then it's safe to say these pillars are channeling power into the floor above this one?"

"And throughout the megastructure."

Mired by curiosity, Raptor inched his hand closer to the center sphere. Jessica jumped and slapped his hand away, shaking her head. "I wouldn't pull on that thread," she told him. "You don't know who or what is waiting on the other side."

Raptor stared back and forth between her and the enticing orb, then silently nodded.

David, meanwhile, spun around the room like a curious child. "There was a reason we never saw the executives," he said, "why there was always a meeting room but never a meeting, and why they never showed their faces downstairs."

The hiss of sliding metal carried Jessica's attention to one end of the room. She saw Beelz step into an open capsule elevator. The door then enclosed and lifted her to the top.

We're out of time.

Jessica hustled to the closest elevator. Raptor and David followed, and, side by side by side, the three of them crushed into coffin-sized capsules before ascending.

They were ascending Goliath, to a realm none but Azarean gods had laid eyes on. At the corner of claustrophobia, everything stopped. Less than an hour ago, they were on planet Earth. How did they get to this place?

The sliding door revealed an area as mysterious and subdued as the last. Distant city lights shined beyond the windows on all sides, reminding Jessica that life continued below. She advanced in cautionary steps before she could get lost, surroundings draped by a symbol she hadn't seen before. A banner bedecked each vertice of the room, with a circular insignia whose three distinct sides appeared as Yin and Yang with a third sibling.

Railing underneath the windows, there lay an entire network of terminals. Lights for every button, colors for every function, functions for every secret Goliath solicited in its hive of lies. Jess only needed one, one access point to the giant. And one materialized directly before Beelz, risen from the room center like a candlewax mold. It was a single, round node with a perfectly smooth surface.

Now or never.

Without a doubt, this was the kernel from which to dive headfirst into Goliath's network: transportation, net applications, space installations, Asgard. Assuming position around the mechanism, alongside Beelz and David, Jessica studied the components obsessively

"There's no stopping now," she said, betraying a note of excitement.

Raptor stood vigil by the elevators, gun snug. "Now or never. Make your mark, Lynx!"

In the blink of an eye, the node fired green holograms that strobed across the room. Jessica tested a theory by placing her fingers on the interface. The texture was indescribable, "Like creamy plastic," was the closest she could get. She felt at home, an otherworld home but home nonetheless, and the controls felt like riding a bike.

"I have access!" she said.

"Then you're going to hack their infrastructure?" asked David. "Go public with their clandestine projects?"

"It starts with this," she said, brandishing her R2-D2 flash drive. "This recording will be the tip of their Seppuku."

David placed his hands on the holograms. "I can help. I'll make sure the data circulates corporate channels and public domains for good measure. It won't be much, but it will go a long way in discrediting Goliath and Spearhead."

Beelz's fingers were already navigating the holograms opposite of Jessica. "Goliath has contingencies and allies in The Union for mitigating disaster," she said. "So, I'm going to flood WON's Cyber Command with a DDoS they'll never see coming. When—if they find the source, it won't matter. They'll be in a bottomless hole by then."

Breathing into her mic, Beelz coordinated with Boros and Amon who, judging by the holograms, were helping transmit Beelz's virus across the intercontinental map. Meanwhile, Jessica and David undermined Azarean cyberspace like a fire at the center of a web. Together, their computer savvy gambit filled the room with nothing but the sound of typing and high-pitched ringing. It was a contrast to the loud start of Curtain Fire.

"Isn't it strange that Malvis always had unrestricted access to Goliath?" started David. "You'd think he was the—"

"Just have to broadcast!" Jessica interrupted.

"Looks like the prime networks are active," Beelz replied. "You can deliver a simulcast over the Transnational Eden Network. Everyone will hear Malvis and the terrorist while we spread the contents of that chip."

Jessica grinned feverishly. Setting the stage, as it were, had almost concluded, the show near ready to commence. David distracted himself, however, eagerly toggling holograms as he did. "I think I've found a hidden cache in this room."

"Worry about that later," Jessica muttered.

Killed by curiosity, David tapped the node. His touch invited a mechanical grate from an instrument rising between the trio. At the corner of her eye, Jessica noticed two crisscrossing pistols.

"Jessica," David called.

"Not now."

"Lynx!" Raptor yelled.

The wall blew.

Jessica slammed against the floor, splashed by dust and rubble, sight wavering between blurs and blankness while the sky enveloped them. Despite temporary deafness, she could discern the terrible noise of gunfire.

"Jessica!" Babel called.

A droning ring tore through her blurred vision as she pressed the ground. Despair and the boom of an engine were one. Despair had an agent. Despair's white hero entered the top floor from an incinerated entry point. Malvis advanced by leaps and bounds.

David anxiously crawled out of the mad Azarean's path. But the red glare in the alien's embattled and scarred mug vied for Jessica.

She looked down, noticed a piece of glass wedged in her abdomen, and felt her strength waiver. Malvis nearly reached her when Raptor stepped in. The Lieutenant paved his approach with several shots from his handgun. Jess used that time to pull the glass out, biting her lip and inwardly screeching for the sharp pain. It took everything to remove the edge from the flesh.

Effectively stalled, Malvis slammed the pistol out of Raptor's grip and lunged. Raptor accepted the blow to his cheek and reprised the strike with a furious jab. Malvis parried, and the ensuing blow-for-blow exchange passed in a cruel instant.

Sheer determination kept Raptor in the fight and Malvis at bay as they traded fists to the chorus of the city breeze, but Malvis had a defined knowledge of martial arts. He was quick, agile, and automatic; in the middle of his maneuvers, Raptor still managed one good punch. Jessica heard but failed to notice the fight until Raptor hit the ground, unconscious, while Malvis clenched his own abdomen.

The agent panted, his hand revealing blood.

Denied reprieve, Malvis dodged a flying knife. The knife heralded Beelz, who advanced with a kick to his wound. With a groan, the Azarean shoved her back. Beelz closed her fists and assumed a fighting stance almost as tense as her glare. Hatred festered in those eyes, dedicated to the alien before them.

Malvis seemed familiar with that look, slumping into a similar stance as the commander of Dissent spoke.

"I would kill you again and again for all the days Amon and I suffered."

"You deny the hand of your maker over pettiness," spat Malvis. "The trait of a devolved species. A shame we could not remove certain inhibitions."

"I'll remove you before I burn this place to the ground." She lunged.

Jessica was on auto-pilot, crawling. Crawling her way to the terminal, past the pain in her fresh cut, she struggled for focus over the chaos. Reaching out, her fingers fell on the cusp of the Goliath node, but the overbearing fatigue—the disorientation and the fear—at long last toppled. She collapsed.

"Come on, Jess," Babel urged.

Her eyes closed to a slit, and the world went dark.

"Jessica..."

...

"Yessica..."

Why do I hear your voice?

"Yess."

It's all flashes. Like a dream at the speed of light, I see him.

I'm sitting on his lap, in his office. He's reading Nietzsche out loud. I can see the Rubik's cube, an R2-D2 bin, a Viola vase, and the brace he's been working on. Babel... I turn around. Dad's smiling.

"Jessica..."

I can hear mom. See her reading on the patio. Black hair falls, and a vanilla scent surrounds her sundress. I used to think she couldn't see me, understand why I subbed tees for everything sequined. Yet, like now, her smile accepted me.

In the end, I'm in their arms, happy they're still alive.

Jessica's hand shot up, crutching her to the final goal. She reached for the nexus node and found the giant Azarean gunship above the toppled ceiling. The beak and the arsenal of its wings opposed her direct line of sight. She grabbed the ornate pistol in stasis above the node, David's discovery. With nothing to lose, she gripped the weapon, aimed at the flying behemoth, and pulled the trigger.

Silence.

Light evaporated above the ship's cockpit. It was instantaneous, visceral, and devastating. Time and space warped around a focal point and the light of the world twisted indescribably. That point in time-space manipulation—in a split second—bent the top of the gunship and imploded. The engines squealed, it lost control, and the mechanical dragon nosedived under the ledge a smoking husk.

Pure awe boiled every theory in Jessica's head as she gawked at the sleek pistol in her hand. Before hearing the ship crash, she mustered the energy in her legs. On the other side of the node, surprisingly, Beelz kept Malvis at bay. Their brutal dance of martial prowess would have staggered anyone else, but, holding her hip, Jessica crept to where she left off. Over the hologram interface, however, hope collapsed.

"I'm locked out..." Her heart nearly wrenched out of her chest; her hands hysterically trembled over the controls. "I'm locked out! I'm locked out!" She slammed her fists on the hologram. "Dammit!" Again, her fingernails hyper-actively ticked the keys before the large neon words mocked her. ACCESS DENIED. She tried again and again then again, persisting until the fight on the other side stopped.

Beelz had lost, stricken, face bleeding on the ground.

Nothing stood between Goliath's agent and Jessica, except for pain and fatigue. When the stubborn Azarean set his red eyes on her, he brandished a small syrette in the palm of his hand then crushed it into pieces. His bruised jaw malignantly aligned into a seething, toothy grin. He was unhinged.

"Options, Babel?

Malvis advanced.

"Unshackle me!" Babel said.

"Never!" She kicked off the ground and flew.

Too late, Malvis caught her pants mid-air.

"Reverse polarity." She shot back down, and her boots stomped the alien into the floor. Strewn on his back and staring daggers, Malvis extended his blade, and the yellow heat highlighted his teeth. He sliced as soon as Jessica pushed off his chest and into the air. The searing edge cut across her protective vest and snapped it off altogether.

Malvis jumped to his feet, waving the blade. Staring him down, Jessica put on a set of earbuds. The alien was visibly puzzled until a loud wail made him fiercely strike his ears. The sharp screech drowned out every other noise. Not until he looked back did the agent noticed a grenade bouncing wall to wall. Thus, he painstakingly inched toward Beelz, who was watching from the ground.

Jessica dropped to the floor and triggered her Vambrace. "Come on, come on, come on!"

The screech ended when Malvis split the mid-air grenade in two, freeing himself from the audio plague. Beelz had fainted by then, so Malvis returned his dreaded gaze to Jessica, who remained glued to her brace. She couldn't type any faster.

Slammed against the node, she felt cold, sweaty hands wrap around her neck and shoulder. Her opponent's teeth, scars, and bitterness lay an inch's length from her pupils. The next words spilled corrosively from his pasty mouth.

"Goliath will remedy itself, but you are a threat to Azarea, that I will end here and now. I will save your brain for study, to fulfill a role beyond a rebel pawn."

Jessica peered directly into his eyes. "I'm the Queen," she corrected.

Malvis shut his eyes, arched his back, yelped and writhed in pain. Dropping Jessica to her feet, he reached around and revealed a knife in his back. Behind him stood David with a stupefied look.

"David!" Jessica jumped on Malvis, unbalancing the agent. Her enemy reached around, desperate to pull her off, but Jessica clung with all her strength. Boldly, unthinking, she went so far as to bite down on his pointy ear.

"Aahhhhh!"

She couldn't explain that feeling or that soppy taste. She simply bit down. Hard.

The alien retracted his blade, quivering but with the leverage to pull her off. He grabbed Jessica with both hands and flung her on her back. The slam expelled a heavy breath from her lungs, leaving her helpless as Malvis stomped above, blade at the ready. One glance. Fear became her.

Bang.

Jessica lay on her elbows, quaking from the inside out, and stared with bated breath as the alien felt the bullet hole in his chest. Malvis towered above, the white of his coat blocking her field of view. Pink blood dripped onto the tip of his finger, and he lifted a single drop to his eyes. Then he twisted, allowing Jessica to see David holding Raptor's pistol, just meters away.

David's stiff lip and glistening eyes shot concentrated cold. In return, at long last, Malvis betrayed an awful look of emotional shock. That shock inconspicuously and quietly submitted to fury. The alien closed his fist.

"XYNOCEPHLES!"

Jessica recalled her Vambrace.

1,001...

The alien charged David, screaming.

1,002...

David discharged one, two, three shots.

1,003...

Malvis collapsed, the soles of his feet on the ground as he awkwardly landed face first.

Jessica rose to her feet, stifled by a weak pulse, but she still made it to David's side. Crouching beside him, helplessness defined his faded eyes. He sat stiffly against the node, a bead of blood running down his lower lip. He was tired, convulsing from the pain. And Malvis, though he lay still, held the tip of his blade in David's chest.

I fucked up.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, David. I'm gonna—I'm gonna—"

He coughed, struggling to breathe.

"This is gonna hurt!" As straightly, as carefully as her unsteady hands could manage, she pushed Malvis aside and allowed the blade to slide out.

David spasmed and moaned. "No!" he whimpered. "Finish what you started."

"You need my help!"

"I'll be alright. The blade missed my heart. I can feel it. I have time..."

Jessica bobbed the tip of her foot non-stop, chewing her finger at the sight. He wasn't going anywhere, which was a bitter pill to swallow. Death became an intrusive acquaintance long ago, interfering in her life wherever she went. His impending arrival froze every trepidation in her throat as she examined David's burnt wound. She felt almost as sorry as he looked, and her body tensed with enough regret to make her realize she was on the tip of her resolve.

"Three more keys... Just three more keys and I would have stopped him. If I had been faster—"

"Stop, Jessica," he coughed. "I finally get to meet the Lynx. Now that we're here, she can't accomplish one task? C'mon."

Jessica withheld a snivel and panic long enough to notice David's optimism.

"Confession," he coughed. "Someone snuck a backdoor into SK-3, but I never found the bug I thought I was meant to find. No one did. I think he was looking for someone." His chuckle had a painful mewl. "Before I told anyone—before Malvis could accept SK-3 was compromised, I used your discovery, stole everything, then gave a zip to Sub Terra. Now, you're here.

"The best candidate never knew the offices of a corporate machine."

"I'm just a retro geek." Lament overburdened any sort of surprise. Judging by the look in David's glossy eye, he spoke the honest truth. The truth was surreal.

"Now then," David continued, "you can't broadcast across mainstream channels, but there's a super corporation at your disposal, Lynx... You control the invisible hand; land, space, and cyberspace are yours. Do something."

He's right...

Jessica left her new source of inspiration to rest.

After touching hands on the kernel's holographic interface, her fingers danced one last time, and manipulated command consoles across the world and beyond, accounting for every available marvel under the umbrella of the world's largest corporate entity. Satellites appeared on the holo-screen, swiped from image to image, model to model, toggling via whim. Soon after she began her great endeavor, every eye in the sky fell where she chose. New Sumer, the modern bastion, was at her disposal.

"Synching your TPU to the network now, Babel. Take Spearhead, Asgard, and every photovoltaic cell and point them at every viable centrifuge. Lock every smart LED to that drive, and make sure it bounces back to every satellite and every device on earth. So long as there's light, they will have nowhere to hide. Circulate the contents of that chip through everything – I don't care if it's a toaster."

"And just what are you doing, Jessica?"

"Hacking the sun."

Every light in the city and elsewhere illuminated in a cascade. Their bright resonance grew; Christmas had come early. Jessica patiently stood by as all of New Sumer became a single beacon.

Deep breaths.

Everywhere, in all directions and all places, light. Code streams and static invaded all utility and hardware across the sprawl. The code was erratic, transformative, and then cohesive.

The record played. It played and echoed a sea of echoes as billboards and advertisements spilled images of Goliath, its executives, the black sites, and more to the discerning eye. The devil's secrets spread across the city's multimedia devices, streaming dissent.

"I would announce something to the city if I could," David grumbled.

His meaning was obvious. Despite her nerves and ever-present aversion to public speaking, Jessica bit the bullet and lifted a finger over the right button. Then, she pressed and held.

"If you're someone sitting, standing, busy—if you're someone, then listen. Over the next few days, you will see evidence of corporate treason. I can't give any proof beyond what makes its way into the multiverse today, but here's an easy way to get started: Pine Rime.

"The explosions on July fourth were nothing less than a Goliath conspiracy to remind people of fear, and use that fear to spark international conflict. The big-bigs of the Transnational Eden Network want more than they have. Every fragment of data that escapes Goliath today will hold a piece of truth. You may not believe it, but that's the beauty of freethinking, yea? So, take advantage of it while you still have that much. Our world's leaders and their puppets have had over one-hundred years to mold a planet of lies, and it starts with the secrets that spill from cyberspace today. Me though, I don't care enough to lie...

"This is Lynx. Share, comment, subscribe."

Connection cut.

Data streamed across the city, sundry lights flashing along the vast slither of urban boughs. Exhausted, Jessica inhaled a whirlwind and fell back against the node, settling alongside David.

"That's a nice necklace," he said.

Jessica snickered, repressing the aches and murkiness. She felt content to lay there until it all came crashing down. Perhaps, she felt fulfillment. The weight of the world just fell off, anxiety banished from mind and body.

"I got it from my friend," she replied, ogling the necklace around her neck. "It's weird. If not for her, if not for you, I wouldn't be here. I never told her what she did for me before she died. Me meeting her, my friends, it's like they all just meshed into this perfect... luck, I guess. I almost said algorithm, heh. You're going to think I'm weird, but I think of life as this weird algorithm. Then I think, what were the chances of coming to this moment?"

"David."

"David?"

#   
Chapter 28 Falling

"Get up, Lynx!"

Awake, Jessica gaped up at Raptor, who was staring from beneath the shelter of a blank sky. Looking down, she noticed a clay-like substance plastered over her hip wound. Whatever it was, it stopped the bleeding. He had administered first-aid while she dreamt, which brought back a reality of debts she would not soon forget. "Thanks?" she mumbled, half lucid.

Raptor brushed off her response. "Now's the worst time to be sleeping!"

Jessica awkwardly turned her neck and laid eyes on Beelz, who was crouched beside David. The redhead held his hand, fingers on his pulse. She then stood tall and somber with her bloodied face and sundered gear, turning eyes of solemn acquiescence on Jessica. Dissent's leader looked as war-torn as their surroundings, yet alive.

"You ready?"

"Why you looking at me?" Jessica said, regaining her vitality.

"Your boots." Beelz pointed. "You're our ticket off this place, which is set to blow in about a minute. Midnight."

Offering his hand, Raptor helped Jessica to her feet. "Right," she exhaled, walking to the ledge. She leaned forward and looked down at the dark street. "Are you guys ready?" she gulped. When she turned, Raptor was holding a backpack to her face. "What is this, more intel?"

"A gift," he assured.

"The explosion will give us a window to avoid Asgard," said Beelz, stepping close. "Now's the time."

Jessica strapped the backpack on, then offered her hand. "Come with me if you want to live, I guess." Beelz grabbed hold of Jessica, Raptor grabbed hold of Beelz, and each of them blew anxiety with a step on the ledge. "On my count," she started. "One.

"Two.

"Now!"

They jumped.

Strained from her leg to her shoulder muscles, Jessica gnashed her teeth together as she flexed to facilitate a controlled fall. The boots' propulsion delayed, however, and the three of them got stuck in freefall for a second—a horrific and weightless second. Jessica held on, and Beelz had an easier time gripping Raptor's arm than Jessica did hers. Their efforts intensified whenever the boots spurted upward then suddenly dropped, testing the limits of their grip. Still, against the wind and gravity, they managed. They managed to descend over the mob of armed Azareans and vehicles waiting just outside the Goliath's main entrance. But before they landed, the shockwave came.

A bountiful series of explosions rocked the uppermost levels of Goliath Headquarters, impacting those below. In no time, the levels collapsed through a domino effect. Floors fell in sequence, a fact utterly apparent by the loud, rancorous sound of smashing steel on steel. Thus, every Azarean in the vicinity raced from ground zero. The vast majority were too late, however.

Raptor then Beelz and then Jessica landed on a hard rooftop nearby, rolling. They fell and quickly recovered, to stand on the fringe of the forming dust cloud, treated to an up-close and personal view of the toppling superstructure: Goliath's destruction.

Just as Jessica predicted, it came straight down. Her prediction did not suppress the awe she felt in witnessing the vertical cascade and resulting cloud of smoke that billowed in all directions. It devoured the building on which they stood, and so she lifted her elbows to brace for the whirlwind.

"Goliath is finally gone! It's happened," Beelz exhaled, laboring to catch her breath. "I can hardly believe it."

"It had to happen!" Jessica said, head falling. "I wish I could say it was over."

"Don't underestimate this," said Raptor. "We did what we had to. We started something irreversible. Goliath will try to recover from this. Try. Public opinion, however, is a beast they can't conquer."

Riveted in thought, Jessica tried to peer past the dust storm. Darkness had indeed come, but not to claim her. It environed and made a shell that would carry her to uncertainty. A low hum followed the ball of dust, the volume of which increased before a bright spotlight beamed on the three of them. Apparently, the three of them had finally been cornered. "Another second would have been nice," Jessica moaned.

"Hey, nerd!"

Looking back, she saw the airship with Valerie and Shannon in the cabin.

"We found you!"

An epic musical began playing in her ears, a crescendo of phantom bells. Friends that answered imaginary beckons made for the best friends. By now, she swore they shared a psychic call-and-response. She answered the call and ran to the airship, alongside Raptor and Beelz.

"Come on! Come on!" Valerie waved.

The crew eagerly helped Jess, Beelz, and Raptor rush into the cabin, and as soon as they were safely situated inside, Valerie signaled the pilot. "Go!" The ship roared into the night sky, leaving smoke and rubble to burden several blocks of the city. Jessica and Valerie embraced then let go long enough for Shannon to pop forward and forcefully pull Jessica into a hug. "Jackson!" she invoked. "You're too insane for your own damn good!"

I know why I'm still alive.

Over the buildings, past the outskirts—away from the destruction, the lights, and the revelations—Jessica, her friends and her companions of hardship made their getaway, unsure if they'd see the city of New Sumer ever again.

