

Hero is a Man

Nix Whittaker
Praise for Hero is a man

The book is well written with many strengths in its plot, character and world-building.

– Antony Millen author of The Chain.

Other books by Nix Whittaker

Glyph Warrior Series

You can run

Sorrow also sings

Blind leading

Wyvern Chronicles

Blazing Blunderbuss

The Mechanicals

The Jade Dragon

Wyvern's trim and other stories

Ruby Beyond Compare

Wyvern Mysteries

Lady Golden Hand

Model Humans

Model: Serenity

Model: Scribe
© 2015 by Nicola Pike

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical facts, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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

Ebook, ISBN 978-0-473-31485-9

Softcover, ISBN 978-0-473-31483-5

This book is written in my native English so if you are American you might notice more U's and less Z's but that is as intended. Also, a warning to those who love the oxford comma, you might see less of those as well.

For my parents who have always encouraged me to dream through the miracle of the written word.
Preface

The world ending wasn't what people expected. They knew global warming was an issue although they thought the earth would get hotter and people would have to adapt. The scientists knew better. They knew everything was connected.

People were complacent in their blinkered world and denied what was in front of them. Even in their most conservative model the scientists predicted a world thrown into chaos and anarchy never known before.

First came food shortages and economic breakdown that cascaded through countries at an alarming rate. Currency turned into fancy toilet paper and whole governments crumbled, as the basis of their own little worlds disappeared. War descended as people thought they could do a better job or were just plain greedy and wanted what the former leaders had.

Then there were refugees, fleeing ahead of war, famine and drought. This of course put pressure on countries, and nationalism reared its ugly head. Wars erupted in almost every country, leaving nowhere to hide from the turmoil.

And like a fierce fire, the war and chaos, burnt itself out. Eventually.

When the ashes fell, the world sighed with exhaustion. The people could finally build a semblance of society. Some scientists erected a Weather Shield that instituted a stable climate in localized areas. Instead of selling it, they gave it away to what was left of the world.

This was the start of the City States, and life went on.
Prologue

Hal lifted her datapad up as someone took the box she used as a table away from underneath. The large house emptied rapidly and the surrounding room was in chaos as movers worked with stunning speed. Hal hardly noticed as she contemplated the cure of her cancer. The answer just niggled on the edge of her mind.

Self-consciously Hal ran her hand over her bald head. It previously had wispy hair, but she shaved it all off when she gave in to the inevitable. She thought briefly of wearing a wig then decided she had better ways to get a little control of what was happening to her.

Her datapad disappeared out of her hand and Hal looked at her mother.

"I've packed all your things. What I need to know is, are you coming?"

"Coming where?" Her mother wore a severe midnight blue suit. It was accented with just the barest hints of gold. Her mother didn't need jewelry to show her sophistication. Unfortunately, it was most likely all that was left of her mother's jewelry. Hal had known her parents were forced to rush the move. She supposed it could do with the money her father embezzled from the University.

"Your father has managed to get us tickets on the transatlantic flight. It leaves in six hours and we're already late for the train."

Hal glanced around at all the lavish furniture her parents had hidden away during the war ― they had only been living with it for six years. There was no way they would be able to get it across the ocean. A plane could get there because it could fly around the vicious storms though there were only two months of the year when it was safe even for flights. Boats didn't stand a chance on the variable currents of the sea. Some sailors worked like the Vikings and went shore-hugging all the way up the coast towards Europe.

Her parents had sold the furniture to buy the tickets. Because despite the embezzling, her parents were broke. It might have had something to do with living outside their means. Hal had hidden her trust fund when she had realised which way the wind blew with her parents. Hal used a good chunk of it on her treatment though.

Hal tapped her lip with the stylus she had used and her mother sounded exasperated, "Make up your mind already. We don't have all day."

When Hal didn't answer straight away, her mother went into one of her tried and tested lectures. "We sacrificed to have you. We were just scraping by." By that her mother meant they lived in a nice apartment in the first protected city on the coast.

"You were such a strange child. You wouldn't talk to people, no one. How were we supposed to learn to love you if you never talked to us?"

Hal turned over something else in her mind as she ignored her mother's rant about all the reasons her parents didn't love her. She took a deep breath before moving on to the next rant, on how she would amount to nothing, and Hal interrupted.

"I'll stay. Besides, I don't think Dad got three tickets. I got the movers to move my things to my place in the city."

Her mother built up steam and flapped her arms like a deranged chicken. "Your place in the CITY!" Her voice rose until she was yelling the last.

Hal snapped her datapad out of her mother's hand before her mother remembered it was there and threw it, like she had done with the last one.

"Yeah, with the last of my trust fund money I bought a workshop in the city. I put the address into Dad's datapad so you can get hold of me easily."

Even though there weren't many people crossing the sea, communication was dead easy as the weather had no effect on the undersea cables.

"I need to stay, anyway, to finish my last set of chemo."

Her mother huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "I sometimes wonder if you were a changeling baby."

Hal shook her head. Despite her father being a crook, he was also very bright. He rose to the dean of the University on his own merits before he had started the embezzling. There was no doubt she had inherited her intelligence from her parents. Her mother might act like the fragile bird she wanted to portray, but she had a masters in advanced physics.

When her parents spoke of her not talking with them, it was more the other way around. She had tried to talk to them about her theories, but they had always dismissed them. They were furious when last year Hal had given one of the acclaimed professors at the University his own book with all the corrections.

Hal stood up and a mover zipped in and took her chair. "Unfortunately, I'm a hundred percent your daughter. Good luck, by the way. You should know the Count you're going to stay with in Europe is actually a fake. He's hoping you two will build him something. Mind you, you always could. He is rich even if he's a fake."

Hal wondered if this was the time normal people would hug and kiss cheeks. Surely there were supposed to be tears. Instead, all she had in her head were plans for updating her new home and the last details of her possible cure. If it worked, she would be fine. Just fine.

Chapter One

Freedom: June, 2052

A hot wind blew off the desert.

"Get down from there, Professor. You're going to kill yourself."

Professor Green – who wasn't really a professor but had somehow managed to get stuck with the title when she had moved to the small community of Freedom. She looked at Mr. Harold. "I just need to connect the panels up to the membrane."

He took off his hat and fanned himself in the hot weather. "Shouldn't we worry about charging the batteries?"

She waved to the small shed that held Freedom's collection of batteries, all set up in a daisy chain. "Already done, it is a real sunny day."

They had weeks of sunny days. Too many sunny days. The one reason why this community survived was that it had a pump to an aquifer deep within the earth.

Professor Green wiped the sweat off her face with the bottom of her T-shirt and connected the panels with a long cable to the tower above Freedom. At the top was a platform, home to her baby. A living membrane of bioengineered material. She could send electricity to it quite often, with the sunny days, it had grown substantially.

It grew like a pale green umbrella above her. She had only been growing it for a week. From the models, she had thought it would take longer.

Finished, she stood and stared at the dust cloud in the distance. She squinted and saw it was a boat sailing on the flat ground, kicking up dust as it moved.

"Mr. Harold, we have company." He turned to study where she was looking.

They didn't get many visitors this far inland. Most people now lived on the coast to have access to guaranteed water even if they had to treat it before they could drink it.

Mr. Harold set his hat back on his head. "All are welcome here."

They had certainly taken her in. The Professor had arrived half dead after the battle; her face cut up with shrapnel. It became infected when she missed some. She had lucked out to arrive here as there was a biochemist who experimented with different ways of growing penicillin.

Professor Green hadn't thought it was lucky then. She had come out here to die. It had taken the forgiveness of complete strangers for her to realise she could make a difference and maybe gain forgiveness for all the lives she had taken.

Panacea: February, 2086

Three rectangular warehouses created a small courtyard, the last side of which was fenced off with tall metal bars. A gate with some fancy intercom gadget was completely out of place for the neighborhood.

Misha stomped to warm his feet. It was still supposed to be summer, but once the sun went down, it was cold. "Are you sure this is the right place?" he asked.

Degu ignored him and leaned on the intercom button. He was short for his age and sported a vintage leather jacket that probably cost more than Misha's apartment. Not that Degu owned anything else. He lived on people's couches for the most part. He had even stayed on Misha's couch for about six months when he had first moved to the neighborhood.

Eventually, a woman's voice answered. "What?" her tone was sharp enough to cut.

If it were a man, Misha would have convinced Degu to leave. Angry men in this neighbourhood meant guns.

Women's rights might have come a long way before climate change, but it had taken a hit in the last couple of decades where 'might makes right'. And in rough neighbourhoods like this, women tended to be at the bottom of the rung.

Misha grabbed Degu's shoulder, only to be ignored. He glared at Degu, who then turned and waved him off and mouthed at him to leave him be.

Degu turned back to the intercom and jogged on the spot; he was excited. "Hey, I hear you do mean tats. I got money. I can pay you, man. Like masses." he pleaded.

There was a long pause, then she asked, "Are you alone?"

Degu glanced back at Misha. Degu contemplated making Misha stand around outside.

Misha puffed. "It's freezing out here." He blew on his hands to warm them. He should have brought his coat which he had left at home. He was at the local center when Degu had found him and convinced him to come on this wild goose chase.

Degu shrugged and said into the intercom, "I got a friend here. He is like a cuddly teddy bear though." Misha huffed at the idea that he was like a teddy bear as Degu continued to try to convince the woman it was a good idea to invite two unknown men into her home.

The answer was a buzzing noise and the gates opened.

Degu danced through the gates. "Come on, man, this will be fantastico. Jose asked her for a tat last week and she turned him down flat, said he wasn't macho enough."

He preened by tugging up his collar. He pranced like one of those fancy horses on the old Olympics shows. All feet and legs.

Skeletons of machines filled the courtyard. There was even a forge. The old kind you would see in a medieval movie. The place appeared eerie in the setting sunlight. Lights led them to a warehouse with large windows. Now it appeared like a tattoo parlor he was used to. Old-fashioned neon lights made out the word Tattoo in fluorescent red.

When they entered, a bell above tinkled. A curtain at the back of the small room was pushed away and a petite woman with hair blue as the Pacific Ocean stepped out. Her hair was short and it seemed like she had run her hand through it as it stood up on one side. She had pale skin and eyes that said someone in her ancestry had come from Asia. She was dressed in blue overalls tied around her waist and wore a dirty white T-shirt.

She studied Degu up and down and walked straight up to him. He babbled for a second about having cash, and about wanting a dragon. Misha wasn't really paying attention. He watched the way she moved. She circled Degu, running her eyes where her hands did.

She tapped Degu's chest and said, "No dragon."

Degu seemed a little disappointed. "All right then, whatever you want. Maybe a tiger?"

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Why come to me if you want something moronic?"

She walked away from him, flapping her hands, and muttered something under her breath. At the counter she pulled out some business cards and discarded one after the other onto the table. "No, not that one. Ah, here it is." She passed him a card with the tips of her fingers crossed over. "Go to Carlos. He'll paint you up good and if you look in the back room, he has something special." She waved the card when he didn't take it. Degu took the card as if it were coated in contact poison.

Degu spluttered for a moment. She patted his chest and cajoled, "Trust me, you'll like the surprise. It will make your day, or year, really. Mm, I wonder if tonight is the heavies." Her voice faded off as she started to talk to herself.

Degu's face dropped, but the woman had already moved on. He glared at the business card in his hand while she stalked Misha like he was prey. She walked around and occasionally prodded him. "What is your name?" she asked.

"Misha." His own eyes trained on her movements.

"Mmmm." She stopped in front of him and placed both of her hands against his chest. Degu made a comment about getting a room, Misha was too busy watching her to care.

Misha watched people for a living, and he knew she knew her every move. Graceful and considered, the woman moved like those ballerinas his mother had loved watching on TV. "Are you a dancer?"

She flashed him a smile before she wriggled her fingers against his chest. "I think a strength tattoo should do it. I'll give you a tattoo that will give you strength. I hope. You understand?" Misha muttered agreement and cover that instead of listening he had been contemplating her lips. And whether the perfect pinkness of her lips was natural or lip gloss. Peach, he thought, she was too eccentric to go with something as generic as strawberry. The urge to lower his head and kiss her to find out had rendered him deaf for a moment.

"Take off your shirt." Without looking back to see if he would comply, she moved over to the chair.

"I'm not here for a tat. I don't like the things." They reminded him too much of the gangs. And in this neighborhood almost everyone had some affiliation with the gangs. He had always kept his nose clean and out of that mess.

"This one is different. Take off your shirt." She set out her gear and kicked the chair into place.

He hesitated. His mind could only think of prolonging her hands on his body. "I don't have any money."

"Yeah, and I sure as heck ain't going to pay for his tat," grumbled Degu.

She ignored Degu completely. "It isn't going to cost you money. Things worth having are more than just money, anyway." She motioned for him to get on the chair.

Misha wondered for a second what she'd take out of him for the favor. "I don't like being in debt to anyone."

She waved off his objections with a flick of her hand. "Nothing too bad. Just some work around here, is all. I could do with a hand clearing the place up."

He didn't have a full-time job, so a little bit of labour wasn't a bad thing. He pulled off his shirt and laid down on the chair. She put the heater on and it blasted him with hot air. She kicked the chair into position and he was out of the direct heat, but now he was warm for another reason as it set him at the perfect height to view her chest. The white shirt left little for the imagination. She wasn't voluptuous but there were curves enough. Her hand on his chest didn't help his temperature regulation.

Degu grunted. "No shortage of space to do a tat."

The woman turned to Degu. "If you want that special surprise you need to leave now. I'll look after your friend."

Degu hesitated, his fingers running over the card in his hand. "You going to be all right?" he asked Misha.

Misha waved him off. They had both caught the bus to get here, so it wasn't like he was leaving him stranded. Degu left then to find someone to give him a tat. He would probably tell everyone the girl had given it to him. He wouldn't be the first to lie about something like that.

Misha looked her over. "I don't see your tats."

She pointed to her cheek. "Look closer."

He moved his eyes over her cheek and he only saw them when she moved. There was something sparkly under her skin. He could make out letters or symbols, they were pink like her skin so it blended in.

He grunted. "Hope you aren't going to make mine pink."

She brandished a bright smile. "No, your chi isn't right for rose quartz, Ammonite maybe. Besides, this was for my illness."

"Illness?"

Amazed by the sudden concern for her when he thought she was ill. She waved it off and settled on the stool. She pressed him down to keep him in place. This time it was while she wore gloves, so not as pleasant as before. Her touch, though, was tender.

"Cancer, but it is gone now," she stated without any emotional inflection. It must have been some while ago.

She certainly didn't look sick. Her short hair though had a new meaning. He reached up and lightly touched her hair and then finally touched just the edges of her pink tattoos. His chest tightened with his emotions.

"Is that what is in there, stone of some sort?"

She nodded and set her gun with the right ink.

"I'll be using turquoise with you." Turquoise was blue, he could live with blue.

"There is some other stuff in there, but it's all blue stones," she said absently as she worked. She went through the process like any artist with casual care and laid out her tools, touching them with reverence.

He asked, "Aren't you going to show me what you're going to tat?"

She flapped a hand at him already sinking into her work. He liked the way she moved her hands. If she slowed down, he saw she delicately curled her whole hand in the motion.

His mother was an artist, so he understood he wouldn't get anything coherent from her at this stage. She might babble stuff she thought made sense because her mind was focused on her work and not on communicating.

She splayed her hand against his chest and made a humming sound as if she were pleased. If she were a cat, she would have purred. Misha was astonished by how much he liked the sound. It bugged him for a second as he tried to figure out if she had made the sound because she was touching him or because she was excited about inking his skin.

"So do you have a name?" Misha asked.

"Hal," she answered offhandedly as she put together the tattoo gun she would be using.

He asked, "Isn't that a boy's name?" He hoped she wasn't offended by the shocked tone of his voice.

"It's short for Halcyon." Her eyes on the business end of the gun. She flicked her eyes up to his own. He hoped he wasn't the only one who felt the heat in that gaze. She went back to her work. Her hand again on his flesh.

"Peace," his voice hoarse.

Hal jerked with surprise, disbelief in her eyes. He blushed as he explained, "My mother was into word games like scrabble. I know a lot of words that I pretty much never use."

She went back to her work with a soft smile on her lips; it made her look pretty and as exotic as her name.

She didn't talk as the tattoo gun buzzed. She worked efficiently. Misha watched her hands in awe. When she finished, he looked down at his chest. He ran his hand over the tat. It was already a little red and puffy from the needle, he rather liked the blue.

It didn't sparkle like the pink in her cheek. It was a very vivid blue though. He wondered if it would glow in the dark; it was that vivid. It wasn't an image at all. They were like really old letters you might see in the Middle East or some such. He looked up to see she was already putting away her things.

He asked, "When do you need me here to pay for the tat?"

She made a motion with her shoulder to indicate her apathy. "Whenever you're free. I'm around most of the time."

"Tomorrow then." He didn't like owing anyone.

___

Hal glanced up when the buzzer went on the gate. She stared at the camera. It was that big guy from the night before. She leaned over and buzzed him in. Briefly thinking, he was rather prompt. She went back to work, so she was jarred out of her state of concentration when a couple of minutes later he found her.

"Halcyon?" his voice echoed in the warehouse.

Hal blinked as she looked up from the screen. It took a moment to realise he was speaking to her. No one called her Halcyon. He raised his eyebrows in query and she blinked as she brought her thoughts back to the world instead of designing in the abstract.

"Oh, yeah, um, I need some help clearing up some things."

She saved what she had done with a wave of her hand over the keyboard and took him on a short tour. The courtyard was made up of her workshop and home in one building. It was joined to a large warehouse shaped like an L shape. Inside the warehouse, she had everything she could think of that she would need. From a Hydroponics room and a water treatment pond. The last side had a small steel door between the two buildings that made a tiny alley. The last building was a strip of stores. They had catered to the industrial area that used to be around here, with a small lunch shop and a dry cleaner of the heavy-duty kind.

In the courtyard was filled with what was left in the warehouses originally. When the Enforcers had confiscated the buildings, they had emptied them out into the courtyard, probably in order to find something. She assumed it was guns. There was little that worried the Enforcers more than guns.

Eventually she showed Misha what she needed. "I got this place cheap because it was an old chop shop that was confiscated by the Enforcers. But it does mean I got a lot of junk with it as well. I need you to move things around so I know what to keep and what to ditch."

It wouldn't be too hard, especially with the glyph she had given him last night. She could see the glyph was already drawing in energy. She had never seen someone with an aura like his. The aura fascinated her on one level as much as the man did. He wasn't a man of many words either and once she had shown him what she wanted, he nodded and got to work.

Hal returned to programming the laser cutter. In the past, she had put in the glyphs by hand, but by placing them in as a design at a microscopic level she could change the tensile strength of almost any material. When metal acted as strong as stone, but still remained flexible there was no limit to what could be created.

She occasionally stopped and flicked the camera to wherever the big man, Misha, worked. He was a steady worker and he only stopped for a short lunch break. By the end of the day he had already paid off the first tat, she didn't tell him that. Hal liked watching him and she doubted he would care if she paid him for the extra hours. She really did need a hand clearing things up.

Hal would have given him the glyph free except she doubted he wanted charity. He didn't realise how hard it was to get people to sit for the tattoos who had the right EM fields.

She switched her bioware implant in her eyes to look at his aura. His aura was strong and it wasn't weakened at all by taking on extra to power the strength glyph on his chest. She would wait a week and suggest another glyph. He was more than capable of taking on more.

She tapped her lip with her stylus. She should think about trying that one on herself. It worked so well for the man. Misha, right? She wasn't very good at remembering names. She really should take the effort and learn his name if he was going to be around.

When he came into the workroom, she took the time to take in his appearance. He was bare-chested as he had worked in the heat. Sweat glistened on his pale skin. Having been born under the Shield he didn't have a tan. His skin was more like alabaster. She smiled at him; she hoped she didn't reveal what her thoughts were in regard to his bare chest.

"You've done an awesome job, by the way." Her mother had drilled into her to praise those who had done a good job. It was one of the few things she actually agreed with when it came to her mother's philosophies. Though her mother usually added in a comment about the unwashed masses in those lessons about dealing with servants.

Misha grimaced as he rubbed the sweat off his body with a rag she threw him. "I've never been able to move stuff like that before."

"Mmmm." Distracted as she watched his hand and wondered what it would feel like if that was her hand.

Then she finally took in what he said, he already showed the effects of the glyph. It couldn't be too strong as it only had a day to draw in power. She wondered how powerful he would get once his body had time to acclimate and to adapt to his new EMF.

"I wouldn't worry about it. That's what the glyph is supposed to do. Are you free tomorrow? I have more work for you, if you want it. I can even do another tat for you if you want."

He rubbed his chest and she wondered if he faced any irritation because of the glyph. She walked up to him and put a hand on his chest. It wasn't hot or puffy, so it was healing really well. It would still need another week before it was at its best.

While she touched his chest, he reached out and touched her hair. His fingers finally came to rest on the back of her neck. She gazed up at him and wondered what he was doing. He moved his hand away as he said, "I'll be here tomorrow."

She smiled; glad she could see him again. She didn't analyze why she felt that way. She just enjoyed the feeling. Hal had learned a long time ago it was important not to miss those moments where she felt something as they were fleeting amongst the numbers and knowledge that swam in her head. They devoured feelings like sharks on the hunt.
Chapter Two

Freedom: August, 2053

"What do you have there, Professor?"

She glanced up at the new arrival, Dave, and smiled at him. He took that as an invitation and came closer.

She waved to her work table. "I'm testing my latest work."

He studied the dome-like structure that took up most of the table. He glared at it.

"What is it?"

She said, "I'm not sure. We found the beginnings of it years ago when the people here at Freedom went looking for water. This is a distant cousin to that organism though. I hope one day it will protect this place from the extremes in weather."

Dave went to reach out and touch it, only to look at her to see if it was all right.

She gave permission with a slight dipping of her head. "To be able to adapt to the weather it has to be hardy."

Dave jerked his hand back once he touched it and stared at her with large eyes, "It has power running through it."

She nodded, pleased with her creation. "It creates it itself once it is fully grown. In its early stages, we have to provide power so it can grow. Eventually, it's fully self-sufficient."

He touched it again and finally put his hand down.

"I would've thought it would be a dome." He meant the irregular shape of the construction on her table. It was mostly circular, but where it had interacted with the sun coming through the window, it had grown wider and faster. Giving it a more oblong shape.

"It's a living creature, Dave. Those don't usually grow to exact proportions."

He peered closer. "There are things inside."

Her greatest triumph was inside there. Not the membrane itself, but rather that there were plants thriving inside. Originally, they were just a few dying pot plants that one of the other scientists at Freedom tried to grow. When she set this up, they were sitting next to it and were now trapped inside. They were no longer dying, but were now flourishing.

He pointed to something at the top. "What are those?"

"Clouds, I think." Amusement laced her voice. A smile struggling to hide on the corner of her mouth.

"Clouds? In this, you have to be kidding."

She shook her head, beaming with pride.

"I'm growing a larger one of these over Freedom."

"Aren't you worried you're going to be trapped?" She shook her head though that had never been a worry. She would be happy to live in Freedom for the rest of her life. She had tried to explore the world and be part of the bigger picture and it had only tried to eat her alive.

"One of the others here has designed a gate that'll grow around. That was the arch you came through when you got here."

He said, "I thought it was just decorative." He stared at her and their eyes met for a second. Heat sizzled.

Panacea: April, 2086

Misha paid for the groceries before he left the corner store. He casually carried them on his hip as he left. Smiling at the children who played on the sidewalk. They had pulled two planters together to create makeshift forts and they yelled and laughed as they played. It was good to see the innocence in the neighbourhood. Sometimes the young grew up too fast. Like he was forced to.

He had dreamed of going to the local University when he was younger. After his father died, his mother had struggled to keep them going. She had managed to scrape together enough for him to do one year at the University. That seemed like a whole lifetime ago. If he had finished, he would have worked as a social worker. Instead, his mother had suddenly died at the end of his first year and he had never returned. His story was not unique by far.

Wheels screeched and police lights flashed. A cop in his sleek cruiser chased down a person who drove recklessly down the street. It was a narrow street as the buildings had encroached on the sidewalks, so there wasn't much space for either to maneuver.

The black SUV swerved all over the place. It would not be long before he lost control completely. Misha glanced at the children and yelled, "MOVE!"

But the SUV moved too fast.

Misha dumped his groceries and ran towards the children. The car swerved close and he reached out to push it out of the way. He thought he was going to die and this would be the end, but instead the car glanced off him and spun around. Pivoting off where his hand reached out. The driver completely lost control and he slammed into the concrete steps of the apartments across the street. The car hissed hot water from the radiator and came to a complete standstill.

The cops were on the car soon. They yelled and waved their guns at the driver. Misha wasn't paying attention, instead he stared at the kids then at his hand.

There was no pain.

He knew he should be squashed like a cigarette under the heel of a chain smoker, but he was fine. What the hell had that girl done to him? Because he knew it had something to do with that tattoo.

He placed a hand on his chest and rubbed at the tattoo that was completely healed now. It was warmer than the rest of his skin.

Misha swore softly and one of the kids asked, "You all right, Misha?"

He studied the boy and tried to figure out how the boy knew his name. He had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, which made him look pretty much like every other mixed ethnic kid in the neighbourhood. A twinkle in the eyes appeared familiar though.

Misha tilted his head as he asked, "Are you Jacob's brother?"

The boy bobbed his head up and down. "I'm Ari."

Misha stared at the cops who were arresting the driver. Ari glanced over his shoulder to watch the police men and said, "Don't worry, we won't tell anyone."

Though, Misha doubted the police would be interested in his apparent miraculous powers. Police were like drones. Sent out to deal with basic crime. They were not hired to be imaginative thinkers.

One of the other kids with wide eyes of astonishment said, "Man, that was awesome. Can you teach me how to do that?"

Before he could tell them, he couldn't, Ari added, "He's teaching Jacob at the Center." Misha softened. There would be no harm in the kids thinking they could learn what he had done.

"Come to the Center. I have a couple of spaces in my class." He didn't, but he would make the space. He ruffled Ari's hair before he left and the boy squirmed, but smiled at him.

Misha trudged to where he had dropped his groceries. They were mostly intact. It was a good thing he had taken some eggs from Halcyon's place yesterday, instead of buying them today.

___

The Center was Misha's second home. His father used to bring him almost every day to work out. The place had an exemption on water, so many people came here to shower after a workout and save on their rations. After his father had died, he had taken on the instructors, Ty's, classes as he had wanted to retire. It was never for money, though the free showers helped.

The Center had seen better days. The large space was divided up into a large workout room and smaller weight rooms with female and male lockers on either side. In the large workout area, there was a boxing ring and around it were various workout areas. Misha was in one corner now with the boxing gear.

Misha sweated as he pounded into the punching bag. Henry came up behind him and swore softly. "How long have you been at that?"

He stopped and flexed his hands. "A while." Over an hour, to be honest. Usually his skin would be split and bleeding by this stage, but whatever that tattoo did, it had added strength to his skin as well. He felt bulletproof.

Henry was a black man with short curly hair that had turned peppered white in the years Misha had known him. Henry had lived here before the war had finished. There were no records he owned the place, but when the city had set its charter, he had already been a fixture here. It didn't hurt that he didn't have to pay rent on the place as Henry mostly ran in the red.

Misha glanced at Henry when he realised his attention was somewhere else. Henry stared at the kids waiting for class.

"You have a few extras for your class today." Ari and one of his friends were joking with the others who waited for the class to start.

"Yeah, I saw them on the street yesterday and told them to come in. They are good kids." They all were good kids though Henry knew what Misha meant because sometimes the kids made some stupid choices. Good kids was code for kids who weren't into the gangs or drugs yet.

Jacob and Ari were from a gang family. If they didn't find any way to feel like they were part of a family, they would join the gangs like Jacob's older brother had. Mostly they just needed an adult in their lives who wasn't family, who had a bit of cool factor. Misha was a big man and that won the boys over instantly. They always asked if he used supplements or if he just used weights. He always told them weights but genetics was probably a more honest answer.

He had been in their shoes once. His father had worked in one of the gang's front businesses. He had not been a gang member, but he was part of the wrong that was done to the neighbourhood. Some days Misha couldn't forgive his father for that.

Misha rubbed sweat off the back of his neck with a towel. "Let me just clean up a bit and then I'll get the class started."

His father was gutted when instead of boxing Misha had taken up Taekwondo. Misha didn't think he had ever forgiven Ty for teaching him. He was his father's sparring partner and could fight in almost any style. Ty was a genius when it came to fighting. From him, Misha had learned that fighting wasn't about violence, but art. Misha had liked the idea that he was like his mother in that regard, instead of like his father. He wouldn't have given up any time he had spent with his father, despite that he was part of a world which had eventually killed him. But it was his mother who had understood his soul.

Misha didn't have any illusions. He knew there was a good chance one of his boys might fall off the track and get him into trouble which could get him killed. He rubbed his chest. Degu had already gotten him into something. He hadn't decided yet if it was trouble or something else entirely.

Misha was over by the changing rooms when a voice grated down his spine. Lisa. She was the sister of one of the boys in his class and he had tried to avoid her at the Center for months. He supposed she was pretty enough though she was only seventeen.

He turned and asked, "How can I help you, Lisa?"

She had on too much makeup. He wished she would stop trying to get a man to notice her and realise she had a life of her own and do something about it. She was bright and she had so much potential. It would also help if she didn't look at men as trophies to be gained and discarded.

"Hey, Misha. Oh, look you have a new tattoo."

She reached out to touch it and he pulled back. He didn't like people touching him. She apologised and she added. "Karl is over there and he wanted me to ask whether he could work with you after class. He has—"

He waved whatever she was saying off and interrupted, "Fine. I'll make sure he gets home in time for dinner."

She smiled honestly and it made her face soften. "That would be great."

The real smile slipped to a seductive one and she flicked eyelashes at him as she turned. Walking off she swayed her hips.

___

Hal was wedged into a tiny machine room. It smelt of mildew and she could hear water dripping somewhere. The only light in the room was the torch next to her and from the open doorway. Which was slightly blocked by the owner of the building who stood in its opening.

Kim Si passed her a wrench and grumbled. "Are you going to take forever? I have clients that need my attention."

She made a face as she tried to tighten the bolt at an awkward angle and only barked her elbow on something hard. She swore softly. Kim Si didn't like it when she swore so she kept it under her breath. The stubborn bolt was frustrating her, so she took a deep breath and cleared her mind. There was no point being mad at an inanimate object, she told herself in her own personal mantra.

"Tell your blasted clients they can wait."

Okay, maybe she hadn't managed her anger as well as she could wish. She sighed and glanced at Kim Si to see whether he was offended with her misplaced anger. Kim Si could have left her to finish, but he liked to stand around and hassle her. He clucked at her.

"Nonsense. Are you staying for dinner?" He easily changed the subject.

She smiled as she thought about Chin Sun. "With the little misses?" Amusement laced her voice.

Chin Sun had come from another City State. A kind of arranged marriage among the Korean community. It had worked out well for both of them. She was a younger woman, but sweet as sugar. Hal had been invited to the wedding and she had gone for a whole half hour before she had snuck out the back. Socializing with others was one of her least favoured activities.

Finished, Hal wriggled out and dusted off her overalls, "Sorry Kim Si, I have to get home. Curfew isn't that far away." The city had a curfew though few followed it. The enforcement of it was more to the discretion of the police officers. Hal used it as an excuse as she needed a lot of preparation to spend significant time with others. Even friends like Chin Sun and Kim Si.

He made a non-committal noise by blowing air out of his nose. She packed up her tools and rubbed her forehead with a greasy arm. She probably had grease all over her face.

She took the time to dig out a rag and wiped as much of herself clean as possible. It would not be the first time she had wandered through the city covered in assorted muck. The rag was soon covered and she feared she was smearing more grease than cleaning anything.

Kim Si passed her a cloth hanky. She didn't know they still made those. She cleaned her face and managed to blacken the hanky beyond redemption. She attempted to tell him she would have it cleaned, but he refused. He was probably very proud of his wife's cleaning skills and wanted to show off. Kim Si was old-fashioned in that regard.

Hal followed Kim Si out to the foyer and dug out the control for the gadget from one of the deep pockets in her overalls.

"Make sure you keep the hinge oiled as it needs to move smoothly all the time. Otherwise, you shouldn't have any more trouble with water pressure for this building."

Kim Si thanked her and passed over the envelope with the money.

She was rather proud of the retrofit gadget she had created. The water pressure was never good when you had to supply dozens of apartments and with plumbing almost a hundred years old. They were tricky things to do as well, as you couldn't have too much pressure because that would burst the pipes. This was the third one she had done in the last couple of months. Apparently, the local landlords had spoken amongst themselves about alternative improvements.

Kim Si's young wife, Chin Sun, came out of the apartment on the first floor and carried a plastic container. "Here, eat. You are too thin. It is just Guk. So, eat."

Hal smiled at the woman who was smaller than her and probably thinner. Her dress was completely perfect and her hair slicked to a mirror black. A juxtaposition to herself. There was a light of wicked intelligence in Chin Sun's eyes. Hal was glad she had married Kim Si who would at least appreciate intelligence in his wife. Chin Sun ran most of Kim Si's businesses though most weren't aware of it.

"Thank you." Hal took the food. Chin Sun would be offended if she didn't take it. A glance inside told her it was some kind of soup. She tucked it under her arm and headed out after a quick bow of her head to Chin Sun and Kim Si.

Kim Si wrinkled his nose. "You will stay for dinner next time." It wasn't a question, instead it was a demand.

She smiled and waved over her shoulder. "Sure, old man."

The streets were cool with the evening rain. With the Weather Shield it often rained in the afternoons when the cold temperatures outside met with the more temperate temperatures in the Shield. She glanced at the large tower that pierced the sky. It was visible from anywhere in the city. Built almost twenty years ago at great sacrifice as the city had still been in the midst of its third civil war. The city, tired of its people dying, pulled away from its country and declared itself independent and called themselves Panacea. Over a thousand workers had worked while wearing bulletproof vests to complete the tower.

It started to get dark, so Hal picked up her speed. It had taken longer than she had thought to install the water pressure gadget. When she could, Hal avoided being out after curfew.

Footsteps behind her went into sync with her own and made her heart beat a little faster. Hal used the reflection of a shop window across the street to see three men were following her. They were typical young thugs in hard-wearing clothes and some head covering easily used to hide their features.

One gestured to the others and they split up. Her hand tightened on the hot soup. Just as one went to grab her, she spun around and threw the soup into the face of the follower directly behind her. He screamed and placed his hands on his face. She finished him by kicking him in his head. He crumpled to the ground unconscious. The other two closed in. One grabbed her arm and twisted her around.

He put his arm around her throat which made it hard for her to breathe. The other came in front of her and asked, "Where is the laser?"

"What laser?" She rasped out past the arm around her throat.

She tried her dumb blonde act and batted her eyelashes. The men just glared at her. So, obviously that wasn't going to work. Not that it had ever worked for her though she had watched her mother try it and it always seemed to have worked for her.

Hal knew exactly what he talked about. She should never have made the plasma gun in the first place. The layman often thought it was like a flamethrower or a laser. It was neither, but she didn't think these thugs wanted a science lesson.

Hal had taken too long to answer and the two men growled. The one in front of her punched her in the stomach and asked again, "Where is the laser?" The punch shoved the last of the air out of her lungs.

The edges of her vision were going dark as the idiot had winded her. She squirmed and wriggled; in the hope she could hide the personal protection device. She had made them when she was young. She wished now that her pockets weren't so damn deep. She stabbed herself twice with a small screwdriver before she could wedge the disk-shaped device out of her pocket.

It slipped into her hand and without any hesitation; she pressed it to the man behind her. The protection devices were like mini Taser guns with almost twice the zap. They were some of her first explorations with the glyph designs for machines.

The man holding her jerked and opened his mouth in a silent scream, then collapsed to the ground. She leaped forward and pressed it to the other man before he realised she was now armed and dangerous. Fear flickered in his eyes, then firmed to a mixture of hate and anger. He staggered away from her, but not far enough that he didn't get a bit of the zap. She didn't stick around to see if he were out of the picture completely.

She ran.

A loud bang and a burning fire in her side made her stagger, she managed to get around the corner while other loud barks of a gun followed her. She kept running with her hand pressed to her side. She ran three blocks before she slowed to a stagger.

Hal finally slumped in a doorway and looked down at her side and back the way she had come. No one followed her, but because she was bleeding, she needed to get off the street. She looked down again. As she watched, the bullet squeezed out and tinkled as it fell to the ground. She swore softly.

She hadn't realised the glyphs could expel the bullet like that. She would have to do some testing. She had left the glyph on her cheek mostly alone once she was sure it had cured her cancer. She hadn't thought about what other aspects it could be used for. The scope was endless. She shook her head. She would think about that later. Now wasn't the time to design a new experiment.

She stared at the bullet before she scooped it up and slipped it into her pocket.

Dizzy and disorientated she needed to focus on what was important. Getting to somewhere safe.

Still several blocks from home Hal had run in the opposite direction. Going home was out of the question as she was sure the men would go to her place next. She didn't have many friends she could go to for help. She thought about going back to Kim Si but the men had followed her from there and she couldn't figure out a way to double back without avoiding her attackers.

Hal stared at the apartment across the street. Misha lived there. He had spoken of it while she had put in the strength glyph last week. At least he wasn't likely to freak out with her landing on his doorstep and considering he had been accompanied by a gang member when she had met him, he was probably even used to people arriving at his place with gunshot wounds. She stumbled across the street.

She groaned with relief when she saw the elevator worked. She had dreaded the thought of climbing any stairs with her wound. The glyph might be healing it, but that didn't mean it wasn't painful.

Hal shivered with shock as she knocked on the door. Blood dripped down her side in a warm trickle. She leaned her other hand on the door while she waited. Glancing up she sighed with relief when she saw she hadn't left a bloody handprint on his door frame.

The door opened with a jerk and Misha went still when he saw her.

She mumbled, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I don't know where else to go."

To explain she took her hand away from the gunshot wound and showed the bright red blood on her hand. He swore in Russian and dragged her into the apartment. The sudden movement made the edges of her vision go black for a second. She took a few deep breaths.

It was a surprisingly nice apartment. Not what she would have thought for a bachelor. Although, he had spoken well of his mother, maybe she had taught him other skills. It wasn't large, though, and the furniture, though neat and tidy were worn and well patched. The lounge area opened up to a small kitchen area where there was a table and four chairs though none of them matched. He had gone to some effort to make the place nicer by painting all the chairs the same color.

Misha pushed her into a chair in the kitchen. Her top stuck to her in a way that made her squirm. She needed to get it away from the wound before it dried and stuck to it. In contrast to Misha, she was a terrible housekeeper and she knew the issue of letting things dry when you really shouldn't. Misha went into one of the other rooms. Probably to get her something to clean up with.

She wriggled out of her top and screwed up her face in pain. Fire ran down her side as she worked the tee-shirt over one arm then the other. She gasped for breath in a futile effort to breathe through the pain. Finally, it went back to the steady fiery stab in her side. She wrinkled her nose at the now red and white T-shirt. She placed it on the floor because she was worried he might have taboos about having bloody things on a table he ate at.

Misha returned with the first aid kit. He paused when he saw what she had done and hissed. "Silly girl. We could have cut that off. What the heck happened?"

She shook her head; she did not want to explain. She was dizzy and couldn't think very well. She must be worse off than she thought as she didn't notice him closing the space between them. He knelt down next to her. Peeling back her hand he swore. "This is a gunshot wound."

"Yeah, otherwise I would have called the ambulance. The bullet is out so just slap on—"

She winced and lost her train of thought as he started to clean out the wound.

He paused. "I can see it healing."

She glanced down and it was looking better already. She lightly touched the glyph on her cheek. "Yeah, I forgot about that. Must have built up a lot of chi to work that fast. Be quick though, it's a tad painful," when he gave her a look she added, "I'm fine."

"You're darn lucky, is what you are."

He muttered under his breath the rest. He peeled a sterilized pad out of its packaging. He had such strong hands. His muscles moved gracefully even with such a simple task as opening a package.

"How has the glyph worked for you?"

He hesitated and gazed up at her. "Is that what it's called?"

He shook the packaging free of the sterilized pad. He then gingerly placed it on her wound. It instantly turned red. Maybe she wasn't doing as well as she thought.

"Well, it does have a name, I just call them all glyphs. You should see what I do with machine glyphs, those are spectacular."

She winced again as he put pressure on the gauze over the wound. She probably wouldn't need it now that the healing glyph had started to work.

"Can you get me one of those?"

He looked up as he applied pressure. He waved to the glyph on her cheek when she just stared at him with confusion.

She smiled. "Like the other glyph, do you?"

He peeled the gauze away and she glanced down when he gasped. The blood had stopped. He peeled open another pad and this one stayed white when he put it on. He tapped it on and stepped back.

"I pushed a moving vehicle the other day." He announced with a hollow voice.

"Yeah?"

"It made me feel bulletproof." Awe tinged his voice and she realised the hollow tone was more from the wonder of the glyph. She could appreciate that. As she had her own miracle when it came to the glyphs.

She said, "Probably, if you take into account velocity versus mass. Though it probably depleted your chi, you haven't been able to store much."

She glanced at her shirt and wrinkled her nose. She decided it was better to sit in her bra than to try to put her shirt back on. She stared at the overalls. Those were covered with blood as well. She wriggled out of those and sat on the chair in her panties and bra. She was still dizzy and had to suck in a breath to stop the white spots in her eyes.

He caught her shoulder and asked, "You all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

He grunted and then surprised her by scooping her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. It was dark and cozy. Just how she thought his bedroom would be. Her thoughts went hazy for a while as she wondered when she had thought about his bedroom and why.

He pulled the blankets over her and tucked her in. "Rest. You are pale."

She didn't argue and curled up in the bed. She liked how his scent clung to the pillow and buried her nose. He smoothed her hair away from her face and then left her. She fell asleep quickly, which told her she was definitely worse off than she thought.

Chapter Three

Freedom: March, 2054

Mrs. Harold stood with a load of washing on her hip and asked casually, "Is it supposed to look like that?"

The Professor looked to where Mrs. Harold gazed and swore. There was something wrong with the membrane. The Professor dumped the wet washing back in the basket she worked from and rushed to the tower.

Dave saw her running and ran with her. "What's wrong?"

She waved a hand at the tower and said, "It's dying."

The Professor stopped at the tower and wrenched open the door at the bottom. She blinked to get her eyes used to the sudden darkness. Dave clicked on a light and she thanked him softly. There didn't seem to be anything wrong. She checked the pipes and then went outside to see if the panels were connected. She didn't think they were. Maybe the membrane needed more power.

Dave boosted her onto the roof of the shed which had the panels on them. Amazed to see the panels were already connected. Some of the others had collected by the tower when they saw her running past.

Mr. Harold asked, "What is the matter?"

She waved at the tower. "It's dying and I don't know why."

She hopped down off the roof and Dave caught her. She ran a hand through her hair.

"It isn't like it needs much. I mean power and water is it."

She glanced up when she saw Mr. Harold's young boy shift nervously. Eventually, he came forward and asked, "Does it always have to have water? I mean, the plants in the greenhouse don't."

She glared at the boy and asked, "What did you do?"

He made a circle in the dust with one of his feet. "Dad was complaining the other day that if we weren't careful, we could run out of water. That the aquifer wouldn't last forever. I thought—" his voice trembled, "I'm sorry Professor. I thought I was helping. I turned the water off yesterday. I thought it would be fine."

Mr. Harold came up behind his boy and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's all right son. It isn't something we can't fix."

She went into the tower and saw what the boy had done. The tap leading to the platform above was turned off. She turned it back on with a sigh. She would watch the membrane for a few days, hopefully, it would recover. When she came out of the tower the crowd had dispersed except for Dave.

He asked, "Is it going to be all right?"

She nodded; life was resilient.

Panacea: April, 2086

Halcyon came into the main room wearing one of his button-up shirts. Sexy as heck. Misha thought she had no idea how sexy she was. Though, she was petite she had muscular legs.

He motioned to a glass of water on the table. Sitting in the other chair she wrapped her hands around the glass and mumbled a thank you. Her hair stood at interesting angles. She paused in her drinking to smooth it down into some semblance of order. He watched all of this with a small smile on his lips.

Retrieving the sandwich, he had made for her out of the fridge he placed it in front of her.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little groggy. The fast healing has taken it out of me."

She seemed exactly like she had just rolled out of bed. He imagined other things she could have done in that bed. His bed. He had slept on the couch though sleeping wasn't what he would call it. The old thing had a spring that poked into his kidney every time he shifted.

"Are you ready to tell me what happened?"

She took a sip of the water before she said, "I'm not entirely sure. Some guys jumped me on the street and when I fought back and tried to run, they shot me. I kind of, well, I used one of my glyph machines on them and they let me go. I ran after that. I don't think they're up to answering my questions even if they wanted to."

She lied or at least kept something from him. He would let her have her secrets for the moment. After all, he hoped she would do more tats for him. Or more. He wasn't sure yet. Ah, heck he knew exactly what he wanted from her. The tats were last on the list.

"I put your clothes in the wash, but they won't be ready for a while."

He motioned to the clothes he had hung out on the balcony. Without a tumble dryer like she did at her place he had to make do. He didn't have the power rations for anything like that. He even got to the point where he had a small gas stove because he ran through his rations often enough. This place was nice, and more importantly cheap but one of the downsides of it was that the apartment came with a very small water and power ration.

She only glanced at her clothes and asked, "Is it all right if I crash here for a while longer?"

The t-shirt was probably a write-off as it still showed a brown stain where there was blood now embedded into the weave. The overalls were hardier and had a hydrophobic component to them that resisted stains. She could always wear one of his shirts with the overalls.

Misha shrugged; he wouldn't mind having her around longer. Even if he did have to sleep on the couch again. He could survive without a few nights sleep.

Halcyon stopped though when she had her sandwich in her mouth and took it out to say, "Ah, only one room and only one bed. I'm not keeping you from sleep, am I?"

He risked a cheeky answer, "As long as you don't mind company, we can share the bed."

She said, "Sweet as."

He stared at her for a minute until he realised she had no idea he had meant that as something else.

Yeah, she had no idea how hot she was.

It wasn't the fact that she was wearing his clothes either though that was a bonus. She was even cute when she worked. She often had her head down and muttered to herself and if he listened carefully, she usually recited all the steps in the process.

He gestured to the sandwich. "You lost a bit of blood last night and you should eat."

She smiled, which made her look prettier. "I'm starving. Thanks for this."

He brushed it aside. He was getting something out of it. Regardless of where he slept that night, he wasn't going to get any sleep.

___

When they approached her place, there were several black SUV's outside and blue and red lights flashed in the darkness, throwing eerie shadows on the apartment buildings across the street from her place. As she stood there to take all of it in, several men in dark clothes took out a large battering ram and she jolted into movement.

"Hey, wait, WAIT. I have the code, I'll let you in."

She ran up to the men waving her hands in the air to get their attention.

A man in a well-tailored suit and a thin black tie stepped in between her and the men with the battering ram. He had a very square face and broad shoulders though he wasn't as large Misha. He was at least in his forties and his face showed the wrinkles. Though, she bet he could have avoided a few if he didn't frown so much. He had a pink scar under his chin and his hair parted in a strange way that told her he had other scars hidden beneath the locks.

Scars weren't uncommon in the older generation. He was young enough he probably fought in the last war. He slipped his hands into his pockets.

He asked, "Are you Halcyon Smith?"

"Yeah, yeah. I take it you have a warrant."

She tried to see around him to the other Enforcers and what they were doing at the gate of her building.

He dug out the warrant from an inside pocket. Flicking it open with a practiced motion of his hand, he flashed a piece of paper. She assumed it was legit, not that she had anything to hide.

"I'm Enforcer Harold. We would like to inspect your premises."

His voice was dark as midnight. A flick of her bioware showed her he was more than the midnight voice. Emotion ran deep in him but was curled neatly and concisely with in him. This was a man of calm nature but also of deep feelings.

Hal used this insight to tailor her response to him and decided casual and humour was the way to go. "Quit with the flirting and I'll let you in. I don't want you breaking the locks. Then anyone could get in."

Harold frowned, confused by her teasing. Sidestepping him she jogged up to the gate. She pushed past the others by the gate. They had seen her and stared at Harold to see if they should continue. He gave them a silent command and they put the ram down. Hal opened the security panel on the side of the gate. Tapping in the codes she stepped back to allow the Enforcers access. The gate slid open with a buzzing sound.

Harold had come to stand next to her and Misha as well. He had insisted on walking her home in case the men attacked her again. She asked Harold, "Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

He glared at her. "We had a tip that there was contraband here."

She thought the frown was a habitual expression rather than a reflection of what he was feeling as his EMF was completely contrary to his tone.

She snorted at the idea of contraband at her place. The government had to know something existed before it could make laws against it. Most of her things were outside the realm of laws just by the fact that they were so new.

"You really shouldn't listen to rats. They only tell you what will gain them something. I don't have drugs, but I do have some pretty cool gadgets. They wanted you to break in so they could break in later to get what they wanted."

This smelt like something Marcus would do. He liked to use other people. If she were just a little later, they would have smashed through her gate and it would have taken a whole day to fix it, at least. He could have easily sent someone in to poke around while her defenses were down.

"So, no contraband."

Harold tucked his hands back into his pockets.

Hal waved a hand to indicate her workshop and warehouse. She had nothing to hide. She was scrupulous to keep within the law whenever she could. Sometimes she had some questionable machines, but at the moment they were all completely mundane.

"I have a license for the gadgets and there aren't any drugs. Never needed the stuff. Oh, there is some prescription stuff, they're all labeled with the name of the doctor who prescribed it. I'm in remission."

She self-consciously ran a hand through her hair. It was a long time since she had gone through the chemotherapy. It was not something easily forgotten though. She was cured, but she wasn't going to explain that she had used her glyphs to cure herself of cancer.

Following the Enforcers into the compound she headed straight to the plasma gun. She shouldn't have ever made it. It was sitting in one of the shops she used as a lockup storage. It used to be a dry cleaner for work clothes. Harold and Misha followed her as she meandered her way through the piles of junk. They were considerably smaller since Misha organized them.

Misha lightly touched her as she moved, showing everyone there that they were a couple.

She knew why he did it. Girls here were treated as if they were weak. He still let her take the lead though and she liked that. No guy had bothered before to look out for her like that. Worried she would do something wrong or things would get uncomfortable. She always ended up doing something awkward and things just fizzled. Not that she really had any real experience.

Hopefully, because he was only acting, he would cover whenever she made a mistake. Misha hadn't said a word, which she appreciated. This was still her mess with Marcus.

She asked Harold waving to the plasma gun. "Are you going to confiscate this?"

He glared at the gun. "Does it have anything to do with contraband?"

"Not even in the slightest. It's a construction tool. It's on the limited list, I have a license for it."

She placed it on the counter of the dry cleaners instead of putting it back in the box she kept it in. There was a convenient box of tools next to it. They weren't her own. They had probably been part of the stuff taken out of the warehouse and workshop areas. Most of the tools were coated in a thin layer of rust, but otherwise still serviceable.

Harold looked around. His men searched the courtyard with flashlights that drew lines of light over the machines.

"No, we will not be taking that."

He looked around the screeds of stuff she had. She wasn't shocked that he didn't want it.

She shrugged and while he was distracted by looking around; she picked up a hammer and smashed the plasma gun. Harold jerked back at the sudden violence. He swore and grabbed the hammer from her, but the gun was already in tiny pieces.

It was safer this way, anyway. She didn't need the plasma gun. There were some things that should never have been built.

"Are you crazy?" growled Harold. She shrugged; she had achieved her goal. Marcus wasn't going to get the plasma gun, ever.

"Some days I wonder." She turned to grin at him. For a State Enforcer, he wasn't too bad. He hadn't shot her when she had gone for the hammer. His EM field rippled interestingly. This was a man of many depths.

___

The Enforcers had left a mess. Misha wasn't so sure they searched for drugs or contraband. He knew the city didn't usually send State Enforcers to deal with drugs. Halcyon puttered around and moved things around. He saw a book she put aside and picked it up. It was a handwritten version of the symbols she had tattooed on his chest. There were notes next to them saying what they meant and how they worked.

He flicked through and asked, "How did you figure these out?"

She tapped her temple. "I'm good with machines and I thought it would be a good idea to have eyes that can see a little bit more. When I figured that there were fields generated by the body and that things can interact with it, I started experimenting. The glyphs aren't new though."

"They aren't?" He flipped open to a page with a symbol beautiful illuminated in the style of renaissance monks.

She shook her head.

"Our genes have mutated for a long time. I believe there were things we used to be able to do naturally, which we've lost. Language was like that. Most thought that there wasn't a language before the Egyptians and stuff. There was. Just that they wrote it on a paper like substance and it never lasted. The glyphs are more like hieratic than hieroglyphs. They come from several cultures. I've been collecting them, but I haven't been able to test most of the body glyphs. I've been playing more with the ones that interact at an atomic level."

"Wait, atomic? Like an atom bomb?" He clapped the book shut with this revelation.

"Nothing that massive, more like a nuclear power plant. There has been plenty fusion that doesn't leave radioactive waste. The scientists had to drop it as governments wanted stuff to make bombs out of so the funding ran out for all the other kinds of ways to generate power from atoms."

She shoved some things back into a drawer. "I once made a bomb when I was bored and then took it apart again."

She must not have seen his look as she continued on in her casual tone. "Well, most of it. What's left runs this place. Amazing what you can do with some Heavy Water lying around."

She motioned to the book.

"You can look through that to see what other glyph you want."

He glanced up from the book. "You'll do another one for me?"

She said, "Just call yourself a guinea pig."

He chuckled. "Sure."

He tucked the book under his arm and followed her as she picked up the drawers the agents had pulled out.

"Are you going to tell me what that thing was you smashed to smithereens?"

"Ah, I wondered if you would ask."

She passed him something else and gestured for him to put it on top of a shelf.

"About a year ago I was working on a project with a builder. He had this really cool plasma torch he used to cut through steel re-bar. I thought wouldn't it be cool if he had something smaller than what he had and he could use it in difficult to reach areas. That was why he had the torch in the first place. Usually you just bring in the big machinery and crush the concrete and separate the metal out after everything is pretty much dust. This builder was working on buildings right next to heritage buildings. No heavy machinery allowed. Well, I made it and I showed it to some of them. That builder guy said I was crazy and tried to get me arrested. So I put it aside."

Misha took the other things she passed him and placed them in the hard to reach areas she would normally need a step-ladder to reach.

"You built a weapon?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Yes. It was naïve."

___

Hal muttered as she tried to put things to right. The Enforcers hadn't been very tidy in their search. She sighed over her research papers. They were hand written from when she hid it from her parents. That was like a whole lifetime ago and now everything was in the cloud and she had multiple tools to access it.

She pushed the papers into a folder and thought she really should file them away better. Maybe she could get Misha to do it. She glanced at one of the monitors as it was trained on him. He picked up things in the warehouse. The other warehouse was her living quarters and a research lab. She was glad she didn't have to tell him not to clean up in there. Her space was personal.

He wore a black t-shirt and cargo pants cut off at the knee. She realised after a while she had watched him for a long time. She shook her head and went back to work. She didn't have time for daydreaming.

"Here, I want this one."

She looked up from her work. Misha placed the book of glyphs down in front of her.

She traced the outline. "Senses. An interesting choice."

"Have you used it before?" It was an elegant glyph.

"No, not many people are able to have the glyphs." So far, the pool only included two people.

He was silent and she looked up to see why. He said, "Why didn't you give a tattoo to Degu?"

"Who?" They wandered over to the area with the gear for the tattoos.

She set out her things and her mind already on the tattoo.

"Degu, the guy that brought me here."

He watched her as she worked.

"Oh, him. Well, he's an undercover cop and his EMF is all over the place. You on the other hand know who you are and what you want. This makes for a calm EMF and it means you can take the glyphs."

"An undercover cop? Are you sure? I've known him for years."

He thought back to the younger Degu he had known. Degu had approached him at the Center to learn a few moves. They had become friends after that.

"Mmm. I'm pretty sure. Now, take off your shirt and lie face down. This one will go on the back of your neck," Hal said.

She smoothed her hand over the nape of his neck, sending shivers of pleasure through his body.

"How do you know where they're supposed to go?"

"Your EMF of course. If you want something mythical, I can tell you that I'm highly influenced by chi and other Chinese teachings. But the truth is something of a mixture of both. Now shush, I have to work."

He grinned at her gruff nature and settled in as she transferred the image to his neck. For someone who didn't want any tattoos because they reminded him of the gangs, he was sure taking to this like a penguin to snow.

"Done, you can get up now."

Misha trembled as he left the chair. This glyph had more of a sudden reaction than the strength one had. Everything felt different. He could feel the air go into his lungs and the way the cloth of his shirt felt as he put it back on.

Halcyon skipped away from her tools. "How is it?"

He ran a hand over his face and it set off all sorts of things in his brain. He held out a hand towards her and took a couple of deep breaths.

"Is it too much?" She asked.

"Let's see." His voice deeper than usual.

He wanted to pull her against him and kiss her, to have the full effect of his senses tingling. He had to push away from the chair after a moment and went to his knees. Just breathing sent shivers of pleasure through him as he was super aware of his skin.

Concerned, she asked, "You all right?"

"Yeah, better than all right." His tone betrayed him as it was hoarse with arousal.

"Oh, Oh! I'm sorry." She blushed.

"Don't be."

He got to his feet and as he walked past her; he ran his hand across the back of her neck. The touch made him shudder with pleasure. Yeah, he had picked the right glyph. She didn't pull away at the touch, the look in her eyes said more. She stared at him as he walked away. Not yet, but she was interested.

___

Misha studied the kids in his class as they went through the Kata's he taught them. There was a mixture of age and gender, but they all had the one thing in common. They came from harsh and broken homes.

He frowned. Someone was missing. He saw the boys who had recently been added to his class and realised Jacob missing. Ari was there and he had separated himself a little from everyone else, which was telling. Henry hadn't hired him because he knew martial arts, he had hired him because he knew when to push at something that didn't seem right. Like a bartender at a bar, he was supposed to play many roles with the kids.

Misha went over to Ari, who stalwartly ignored him and continued on with the katas.

"Where's your brother?"

The boy shrugged and continued on with the Kata. There was a stubborn look in his face, though his eyes were sad. Misha knew that look. It was when someone in your life did something that put them at risk. He pushed a little more.

"Ari?" The boy stopped and turned to him. His shoulders set and his mouth a thin line. It was clear he didn't want to talk. Some of the other children had stopped as well and were listening. Misha waved for them to continue. He pulled Ari a little distance from the others so he could talk to him without the others overhearing.

Ari's shoulders slumped and he stared at the ground as he gritted out, "He was supposed to be here, but he met some boys on the way and made me go on my own."

Misha frowned, there was more to this story than what Ari was telling him. Not unusual for boys his age. Still, he pushed. "Boys? Who were they?"

Ari huffed; anger replaced whatever else he felt a second ago. He glared at him. His eyes like hard chips of stone, "Just some boys. They hang out outside this club and they told Jacob they had some Ambrosia for him."

Misha went cold. He had heard about the new drug out on the market. Most of the people addicted to it only needed the one dose to get hooked and it took the user away to some La-la land for days. If Jacob played with that stuff it wasn't a good thing. It also explained Ari's complicated emotions.

Misha placed a hand on Ari's shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you came here." He smiled and joked to break the tension, "your brother will envy you when you can take him down."

Ari smiled back, but it was a weak imitation of his usual smile. He gestured for him to join the others and patted his shoulder as he passed by. There wasn't much he could do for the boy when his brother tried his best to kill himself. There wasn't much anyone could do with people who went down that particular destructive spiral.

Misha knew, he was dragged in once when he was a teenager and his girlfriend had turned to drugs to sort out the problems in her life.

___

There was only one person Hal knew who wanted the Plasma gun and would also mistake it for a laser. Also, ruthless enough to send thugs after her and heartless enough to want to use it as a weapon rather than as the construction tool it was designed for.

Hal had talked to a couple of builders a few months back and they talked about how tricky it was to get rid of the buildings destroyed during the wars. Some of the buildings were bunkers and made from solid concrete and sometimes even solid steel. She had told them about her plasma gun that could melt through things like that like super glue through Styrofoam.

She hadn't realised until later one of the men wasn't a construction worker at all. Instead, he was funding one of the builds with drug money.

He had flattered her when they spoke and said he had seen some of her work. She never did find out what gadget he had managed to get his hands on. Maybe she should go over her list of gadgets she had sold and trace where they had gone. Unfortunately, she was prolific and that would take months. With no guarantee she would discover what he had procured.

Marcus had a few places he hung out as he really didn't have a real job. She had already tried the gym and his spa. The last place was his club.

Hal walked into the club. It was crowded and obviously a popular place for people to gather. She did not see the appeal of dressing in clothes too skimpy to go outside, as it was starting to get cold at night, and then gyrate against each other. The music was jarring and gave her an instant headache. She couldn't understand how Marcus could spend whole evenings in this place.

Hal didn't look at the other club goers who looked her up and down appreciatively. She was amused that both genders checked her out. She wasn't dressed for a place like this, but she wanted to stand out. She still wore the white t-shirt and overalls she wore while she had worked on an elevator shaft brake system this morning.

Soon there was someone in front of her who motioned her to follow him. He was dressed in a suit and stood stiffly. A wire at his ear indicated he was security. He led her into one of the back rooms. It was much quieter back there. This must be where they needed some volume control so they could actually do business.

Hal was led into a white room. A ridiculous thing to keep clean. Marcus lounged on one of the couches with a woman. She was half-naked and quite ravishing. That wasn't so astonishing. Marcus always had an eye for beauty. Though white and impractical, the room was opulent. It was plush with lavish furniture that seemed more like it came from Madame Pompadour's boudoir than anything seen in a club.

"Ah, my beautiful Tinker. Please tell me you have brought me that lovely weapon you promised."

He had called her Tinker when they had first met. It was a joke as he said he was the Tailor for a new society in the neighborhood and she could be his Tinker. All he needed was a Soldier and a Sailor to make a set.

"I didn't promise anything, Marcus. You threatened me that if I didn't make you a weapon, you would destroy me. I think I remember quite vividly telling you to go shove that threat up your hole."

He sneered at her show of bravado. He gestured his hand at her and then at the room.

"Well, then what are you doing here?"

He snickered with his sycophants. They tittered with him, which only made her feel ill. She hated what he represented. Not one of these people had a thought of their own and if they did Marcus would ruthlessly grind them down to a fine powder and probably in front of the others, so they never forgot who top dog was around here. Well, she was about to challenge the alpha in his own territory.

"I believe I want to return the threat. If you ever send your goons against me again, I will destroy you."

She hoped he didn't hear the tremor in her voice.

"You and what army?" he countered casually.

Marcus took a sip from his drink and appeared incredibly smug.

"I don't need an army, Marcus, you know that."

He ignored her words and waved to two of his men. They tried to grab her, but she wasn't stupid. She had added to her glyphs. She threw one thug up against the wall with one hand and backhanded the other. He flew across the room and slammed into the bar. There was a tense silence. The man under her hand struggled and kicked his feet against the wall only to remain pinned. She dropped him and his feet crumpled under him.

Hal stepped away and walked up to Marcus. There was a coffee table between them so he remained relaxed, despite the flicker of emotion in his eyes that was possibly fear but most likely anger.

"I can protect myself, Marcus. But so you know I can follow through on my threat I have a gift for you."

She placed the device on the table. It wasn't large and it appeared innocuous. That was the point.

Marcus was not amused. "What the heck is that?"

It made a buzzing sound as it charged. "That is right now corrupting all your data. You can keep it. For, well, another fifty seconds." They would most likely try to turn it off but there was only an on switch to the device.

Hal turned and left. She shook with reaction. She wasn't a brave person and confronting Marcus was probably the scariest thing she had ever done. She had hoped she could leave with some drama, but Marcus always wanted the last word.

"Don't think this will make you safe, Tinker Baby, I will go after your weakest. I will skin them alive until they beg for death."

She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder and left club Hades with a chill in her spine.

___

Misha opened the door and looked down at Halcyon. She shuddered. Very determinedly she said, "You are fired."

He cocked an eyebrow and then waved her inside. She sighed and followed him in. Something was bothering her.

"How do you do that? I mean you're always so calm."

He pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table. She sat down as he made her some faux-coffee.

He said over his shoulder, "You look flustered. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

Watching her out the corner of his eye his senses were hyperaware of every breath she took. Her heart was beating slower now. Whatever had flustered her before, was leaving her slowly.

"I found the guy who organized my attack. He threatened you." That explained why she was upset. He was amused that she settled by just being near him.

Misha placed the coffee substitute in front of her. Coffee plants had died out almost completely during global warming. Though, there were rumors they were growing them quite successfully in City States that used to be England.

She wrapped her hands around her cup and her heart finally settled to where it should be. He placed a hand on her shoulder to add a little bit of comfort. She took a sip of her coffee with a pleased sigh. He wasn't sure if he was upset that she didn't react to his touch or pleased. Sitting down opposite her he would set her mind at ease about the threats. "I can look after myself."

"He'll use guns and lots of goons. He likes his goons," Halcyon wrinkled her nose at that statement.

Misha shrugged and rubbed the side of his face with his hand. He wasn't the kind to brag so he didn't explain about his training he had received from Ty.

"Have you told anyone about me?"

She frowned. He could tell she was trying to figure out where his thoughts were running. "No."

"I haven't told anyone I'm working at your place. Let me give Degu a call. I'll make sure he has kept his mouth shut. If I keep away for a while your enemy won't know about me at all." Whoever it was who had threatened her.

Misha watched her as she slowly sipped her coffee thoughtfully.

"Were you followed?" He asked. His training kicking in and asking the question he needed answered.

Halcyon shook her head, her eyes unfocused as she concentrated more on her thoughts rather than on her surroundings.

"I dashed after I kind of set the cat amongst the pigeons. He wouldn't be able to send someone after me and I also took a trip through Grandma Harvey." Grandma Harvey was a marketplace and there was no way she would have kept a follower after that place. There were dozens of places to escape and disappear.

Halcyon looked down at her coffee surprised to see she had almost finished it.

"Thank you for the coffee, but I think you are still fired."

Misha smiled and stood up; she was so fierce when she was trying to protect him. He ran his fingers over the nape of her neck and reveled in the feel of her hair on his fingers. He took her empty cup from her. She let her hand graze his and he relished the casual reciprocation of his touch. He was glad he had taken the senses glyph.

Halcyon joked. "I suppose I could have hired you as a bodyguard."

"I am trained." That was as close as he would get to telling her he was trained to kill. The point was not to need those particular skills. Most assumed because he liked the soft sciences and that he preached non-violence to his students, that he had no other facet of himself.

Halcyon turned to him sharply, amazement made her eyes wider. She must have heard something in his tone so he explained a little more.

"I usually teach at the Center. I'm an expert in several fighting styles and in firearms of almost every kind."

"Well, if you need a bodyguard job you know where to find me."

She was about to leave, except that he wanted her to stay. He realised why and didn't analyze it any further.

He took a risk and said, "I'm about to make dinner. You'll have to eat and you won't be able to go out much while you deal with your goon."

Misha saw he had hooked Halcyon's interest when she hesitated. Her fingers gracefully tapped the surface of his table as she thought her options through.

"What are you making?" He knew he had her then.

"Nothing special, macaroni and cheese."

"Mmm, I like cheese." He took that as permission and started on dinner. He was warm inside. It was a while since he had a girlfriend and no one near as interesting as Halcyon.

"Cheese and milk, you spoil me." She commented on the menu.

Misha hesitated, worried for a minute that she might be disappointed with his cooking. "It is only goat cheese."

Halcyon said as she sat back, "I don't think I've had cow's milk since I was five."

Cows were rare. When people were starving and so were the cows, they had made a good meal. Goats, on the other hand were hardy and could survive pretty much on anything.

"You know I've thought about digging out the courtyard and putting in grass and getting a couple of goats." Halcyon announced. He chuckled. Only Halcyon would seriously think of creating a micro farm in the middle of the city.

"I can see it now. Goats climbing over wrecks. We'll have to plait braids into your hair and you can yodel to them."

She had to laugh as well at the image he created.

Chapter Four

Freedom: September, 2054

Mr. Harold's son had taken to following the Professor around when she went to inspect the membrane every day. Since the scare, she took more care in making sure everything was as it should be. He asked, curious, as she crouched on the ground and poked at the membrane with a rubber-tipped pole, "Do you really think it'll last? I mean—we haven't had a storm yet."

He had a valid reason to ask. When there were storms, they were violent and extreme. They lost people every year to flooding and hypothermia if people were caught outside when a storm hit.

"That's why we started growing it when the dry season came, though the tower was built last year."

She pointed with the pole where the membrane touched the ground. "See here, it has grown roots."

This was astonishing as the original organism, they modeled this one from, hadn't had any root system at all. It must have come from one of the other strands of DNA they added.

"It should be stable now in any storm. We've tested the smaller one and it can take quite a bit and it can give as well."

She motioned with the pole she used. "Once we figure out how to connect to it safely, we will be able to draw power from it."

Once it reached the ground, it hadn't needed the boost from the solar panels at all. It could now collect its own from the sun. She hadn't thought of this when she had proposed growing it, but it was a pleasant side-effect of creating the organic biosphere.

They were already seeing benefits. The plants they usually grew inside in hydroponics tubes could now be grown outside. Also, it was much cooler than it used to be, despite the heat outside. It was muggy, but nothing they couldn't get used to. The surface of the membrane collected water, and grass of all things, was growing at the base of the membrane but only on the inside. Outside the grass struggled to grow and was almost instantly killed by the harsh heat and sunlight.

She looked up when Dave called out to them. Mr. Harold's son asked, "Do you like him?"

She stared at the boy wondering why he had asked such a personal question, but he turned shy and shook his head. He excused himself and left before she could answer.

Dave approached. "A bit shy, isn't he?"

She just nodded her head. Going over her answer in her head.

Edge: April, 2086

Natasha leaned heavily on the wrench. She was a slight thing compared to her father and needed all the leverage her body could achieve. If anything was loose, there could be a disaster later on. Once she finished, she patted the old desalinator fondly. The sea was a roar in the background, which soothed her as she worked. The sun was out, but it was getting colder and she tugged on her wool coat as she looked around the water farm. They were surrounded by dunes of salt. Without luxury of being under a Weather Shield this far out on the edge of the City State the weather made the dunes into glistening silver mountains.

Large pipes lead further inland to the city. With people crammed into small areas because of the Weather Shield, shortages of everything was inevitable. Her father had put in this desalinator plant during the upheaval of the climate change. That was one of the reasons the city had survived. Though, he was forced to hide out in sea caves a few times as the fighting had overwhelmed the area. Things were different now. For almost 20 years now there was relative peace.

The plant, her father had given his whole life to keep running, was now old and constantly needed repairs. She rubbed her hand across her forehead and headed back to the house for lunch. Stomping her boots in the mudroom she tried to knock the sand and salt off.

Living so close to the sea, they often had sand everywhere. The worst was when it got into the beds or in food. She could hear her father as he muttered in the office.

Hanging up her coat on one of the hooks her mother had reclaimed from old drawer handles and hand painted. They were done with tiny little flowers. A design she had gotten from Misha's mother.

"Is it bad?" she asked her father as she went to lean on the doorframe of the office.

He looked up and frowned at her.

"Bad, sweetheart."

For months now, they had struggled with money. Today her father had sat down to try to eke out some way to pay the balloon payment due at the end of the month.

Her father seemed older lately. Ever since her mother had died, he had aged rapidly. His hair was no longer blonde, but a silvery gray. He would say he was lucky to grow old. And he would know as he had lost many friends over the years to be grateful for the life he did have.

"We were so careful. Surely, we can find the money somewhere? Maybe if we sold something."

She sat down on the old couch in his small office. It had seen better days and she could see the upholstery had split. If she had half her mother's talent, she could make it look new with a bit of material and a few pins. The house was going downhill in many ways since her mother had died.

"The house maybe," he rubbed his face with his hand, "I've been thinking about it. The house is too big for the two of us. You won't want to settle here after I die, so there is no need to keep the place. I'll try to sell the house. It isn't going to be in time for the deadline, we're going to have to take the penalty."

"Ah, dad, that almost doubles what we owe." They were forced to take on debt in order to update some of their equipment that was corroded through by the salt water. He shrugged nonchalantly though she knew it must hurt to sell mother's house. A house she had adored and decorated.

"I know, but we can't avoid it. When I sell the house, I'll stay with Murphy. She says it'll be all right."

Murphy was his long-term lady friend. When her mother had died, he had taken a long time to get over it. Murphy was there to take advantage of her father's grief. Unfortunately, Natasha and Murphy didn't get along. It wasn't that her father took comfort in her, no; it was because she was brash and what her mother would have called kitsch and not the nice kind. Her father could do better.

"Well, I thought you could go see Misha. He'd be able to get you a job in the city. I can run this place on my own for a while. Maybe take on some students part-time."

Natasha closed her eyes for a second. She loved living by the sea, but she knew her father was right. The water farm was outside the area of the Weather Shield and it was a tough place to live. There was a very small community who fished when the weather allowed. There wouldn't be any work for her here. She had thought about working on one of the State farms except she needed a reference for that and certain qualifications. Food was a serious matter in this day and age. When her father was her age, almost half of the world's population had starved to death or died in wars to gain food.

Natasha also knew her father encouraged her to go because there were no suitable young men in their community. She was twenty-four and her dad worried she would never find that special someone. She didn't want to leave, but she knew she would have to.

___

Panacea: April, 2086

Misha stopped punching the bag and took a deep breath. He turned around when Henry said, "Got a lot of energy there?"

Misha said gruffly, "Just a little frustrated. I thought I would take it out on something inanimate."

Henry nodded wisely. Misha grabbed his water bottle and decided to take a short break. He sat down on one of the benches that ran along the wall of the Center. Henry sat down next to him. They were silent for a long time, then Misha started the conversation. "It's a girl."

Henry smiled softly. "You've had one of those before."

"Not one like this. I mean, Henry she's smart and beautiful. But she's in trouble."

"Isn't that your usual kind?"

Misha hissed at the implication, but had no retort as Henry in his great wisdom wasn't wrong.

"I liked her before all of this trouble." Misha ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "Worse, is that I can actually help her with her trouble not like — well the others."

Henry was quiet for a long time, then asked, "Will she want you to help with this trouble?"

He half chuckled at that thought. "No, she'll not thank me for pushing my nose into her problems. She made it quite clear. Then, she—" He took another sip of his water so he could put his thoughts in some semblance of sense. "She hinted that if I wanted to, I could work with her to solve her trouble. I'm not sure if she's offering more, or she's so naïve she doesn't realise what she was hinting."

Henry pondered for a while, then asked, "Do you want what she is hinting at?"

"Heck, yeah. I wanted that from the beginning. I was willing to work slowly, until she — well, until I could seduce her and then she throws this spanner into the works."

"It seems clear. You have two choices. Cut her out or jump in the deep end."

Misha said, "Thanks, oh, Wise one. I couldn't have ever figured that out on my own."

Henry stood and patted him on his back. "Once you make your choice, you won't need to beat up poor defenseless gym equipment. Think of them."

Henry chuckled as he walked away.

___

Hal was angry. She wasn't sure why she was angry until she kicked a large inanimate object and swore. "Why the heck did Misha put you there?"

She hadn't seen Misha in a week and she missed him. He was always so easy to be around. Usually when she had people around her, she got annoyed with them. They were very slow, or they always got in the way. Not Misha, he helped where he could and he never tried to poke his nose in her work.

She respected his calmness.

Man, she missed his calm. She let out a sigh and hated herself for reacting this way.

He made her feel like everything would be all right even when the world went to hell in a hand basket.

Hal squinted at the monitors. She had set out more cameras over the week. There was always a thug standing on the corner of her street. He was the obvious watcher. There were others, usually children. What kind of man used children like that? No matter what she thought about the whole issue of using children in gangs, there was one truth she had to face. There were watchers all around her place. She hadn't even been out to get food. It was a good thing she was stocked up and she had a hydroponics room in one corner of the large warehouse.

Everyone was funny about growing stuff ever since the climate change had screwed with the weather. Everyone had hydroponics now. She had taken it a little further and she put in an industrial-sized freezer so she could snap freeze her produce. She had enough food to see her out for a year if she was willing to eat carrots and onions for months on end. At least she didn't have to worry about scurvy.

Hal snorted at the direction of her thoughts. She returned to setting up booby-traps. She wasn't sure how long Marcus was going to wait, she would be ready for him when he came. She thought of adding the senses tattoo, but her rig wasn't set up for her to do her back or neck so she would have to leave it.

Hal was out in the courtyard when Enforcer Harold came up to the gate. She rested on the long pole she used to wedge things into place.

"What can I do for you, Harold?"

He glared at her informal use of his name. "That is Enforcer Harold to you."

She smiled; he was predictable in that he always reacted to her teasing. She opened the gate. He looked around and asked, "Don't you get lost in here?"

Her mood was instantly lifted by the surly Enforcer. "Some days. Did you just come to give me some Feng Shui tips?"

He said, "I've heard rumours and I was concerned."

She tapped her lips with a finger as she pretended to think. "Ah, you heard about Marcus wanting something I have. Nothing to worry about. That thing I smashed. Well, that's what he wanted."

He nodded his head thoughtfully. He obviously had another reason for the personal visit as he started to pick up things and stared at them as he spoke, "Marcus has been on the rise lately and if he got hold of some kind of weapon—" He left his sentence to drift off.

Harold cleared his throat and continued, "Gangs have always had a place in our society, and during the war they became powerful. It took a lot for the people to fight them off to the point where we could make a place like this. We are teetering. You at the bottom of the pile might not realise it, but we are. It wouldn't take much for the gangs to regain power in this city and we would again be faced with civil war."

Hal could see he had scars. He would have only been a teenager when he fought in the wars. He would know what he talked about. She stood there and wondered if he would be willing to be a guinea pig for one of her glyphs.

___

Edge: May, 2086

Natasha shouldered the strap of her bag and turned to her dad. He frowned and she wondered if he regretted encouraging her to leave for the city.

"You be safe."

She smiled. "Dad, I'm twenty, not four. I know how to look after myself."

He said, "The city is different."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "When was the last time you were there for any significant length of time, dad?"

He grumbled for a moment and eventually said, "Before the Shield was even up. I know, I know. But some things never change. You stick by Misha; he'll look after you."

She rolled her eyes. "You'd think we were in the Middle-Ages and that I needed a man to look after me."

"Misha is different. He can actually look after you."

She said, "What are you saying, dad?"

He huffed. "You know Ty. My brother's friend?"

Vaguely. She nodded her head to see if her father would add information so she could place him better.

"Well, he trained Misha."

If she remembered correctly Ty was a fighter.

"Ty is the one that used to box with Uncle?"

He said, "He used to be a commander in the nation's army before it collapsed. He saw Misha as his protégé. Misha knows things and since he knows people. He'll keep you safe, so you stick by him."

Natasha leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "I will."

The train slid into the station. She turned to look at it. When she looked back, her dad pulled her into a hug. "You find yourself a man. I want grand kids."

She laughed. Tears in her eyes. "There are over three million people in the city I'm sure I can find someone."

His brow furrowed. "Not a pansy. I want a strong man for you."

She was amused as she really couldn't see herself with a dandy in any case. Not that one would look at her twice. She was too boyish for good looks.

Natasha picked up her last bag and said, "I'll try, dad. Now, you stay out of trouble yourself." He snorted.

She jumped on the train with her heart in her throat. She had been in the city only a few times and mostly for big events like funerals. She sat down in her seat and looked out the window. The small village, Edge, had collected around the water plant. The station was made mostly from stone as they were out in the harsh elements of weather without the protection of the Weather Shield.

It was a cobbled together mess, but she would miss it.

___

Panacea: May, 2086

"So, are you ever going to teach us how to kill someone?"

Lasso was a small kid for his age, probably because of malnutrition though he sure was a firecracker.

"If you came here to learn how to hurt people, then I'm afraid you're in the wrong place."

Lasso dramatically shrugged with his entire body. "Ah, heck, how am I supposed to put my old man in his place if I can't beat him up?" Misha felt that ache in his chest when he heard these stories. It wasn't like the kid was even looking for sympathy.

"Are you living with your mother?"

At least he wasn't one of the thousands of foster kids that drifted through the city. His neighbourhood had its fair share of foster kids.

"Yeah."

"Well, you should tell your mum you came to these classes so you could stop your dad."

Misha hoped it would wake her up that she was hurting her kids by staying with the loser, but he didn't want to get the kid's hopes up as adults could be selfish. Everyone had paused in their katas to listen.

"What's that supposed to do?" He grumbled.

"I'm not sure. Putting your dad in his place isn't your job. You just need to grow up into a proper human being."

It was what Henry wanted for the kids as well. There was supposed to be fun at the Center, but also discipline so they could survive the real world.

"Yeah, and is that what you're teaching?"

He grinned at the boy; he was a bright one to figure it out so quickly.

"Yes."

Misha turned when Lisa said behind him, "A man who doesn't have to use violence to get what he wants is a good man. If he uses violence, he isn't a good man."

"Thank you, Lisa."

It was the most philosophical thing he had ever heard from her. He realised she must have heard some of his lectures secondhand from her brother.

Lasso had to add, "Then how am I going to be the hero?"

He preened dramatically and tried to show off his muscles. Only he was more stick thin than muscled.

One boy sneered. "Bulk up, mate."

Misha glared at the boy. Body issues were so easy to develop so he didn't allow any kind of teasing personally aimed like that.

He said in a firm and clear voice to make sure they all paid attention.

"A hero is a man who is afraid."

Lasso wrinkled his nose. "Nah, man. That is just wrong."

Misha added the last part. "Afraid to run away. Stick by your mother and she will think you are the hero, no matter what."

He turned back to the class. "Violence is a last resort to help you escape from danger. What I teach is discipline. If you want something it will take effort and pain to achieve. If the goal is worthy, then it is worth both the effort and the pain."

One piped up wittingly. "It isn't painful to go to school."

Some of the others snickered. Misha said calmly, "I think what you mean is that finishing school is a worthy goal. Okay, what if I said the school bus wasn't working anymore and you had to walk to school even in the winter months? Would that be painful?"

"Heck, yes. I almost lost a toe last year doing that messenger job for Jose."

Misha frowned at the boy's mention of the gang he had worked for. He didn't anymore, but he didn't like it when they mentioned their old lifestyle amongst the other kids. He drew the others back to the point he wanted to make.

"School would still be worth the pain and the effort. You're right. We should be grateful it's as easy as it's now. Some of you will find in a short time, it becomes more difficult to stay in school. Hopefully, I will teach you the discipline here that you can stick it out to the end."

Misha clapped his hands and said in a jovial voice, "Enough lolly gagging, let us get back to what we really are here for. Torture. Terrible, terrible torture."

Everyone laughed as they returned to their lines and the katas interrupted by Lasso's question.

He finished the lesson and saw Lisa still waited and this time she had a young girl with her. Maybe seven or eight. He smiled at the girl and went to Lisa. Though, he really wanted to avoid her. He had a feeling she wanted to ask him something.

Lisa placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "This is my cousin, Anne. She is living with us now. She has heard all about your class and she really wants to join."

The girl wrinkled her nose and asked, drawing his attention to her. "Do the boys always smell this bad?"

He chuckled at the girl's comment. "Pretty much. Why do you want to be part of the classes?"

"I want to learn how to be strong, so no one will pick on me like my mom's boyfriends." Another battered soul for him to try to save. It was cases like this that made him wake up in the morning and rush to the Center.

"I think I can do that."

Anne grinned at him. "What are those tattoos?"

Misha placed his hand on his chest. "This one gives me strength so I can keep people like you safe." He waved to his neck. "And this one lets me know when people are lying to me or if people are in danger."

"Cool." She breathed out in awe.

He went to touch her head, except she pulled away. The fear flickered in her eyes for a second, then she relaxed a little more when he didn't react to her flinch.

He asked, "Did you like your mom's boyfriend?"

Anne shook her head, her voice was soft and scared, "But some of them wanted to be my friend. I didn't want that."

He let out a breath. Her instincts were clear. "Well, I hope one day you'll like me enough to be my friend."

Sadly, enough most of the younger ones could avoid those kinds of predators if they only knew they existed. And knew the tricks they used to groom them. In this case, forewarned was certainly forearmed.

She grinned at him; her mood flashed to happy in a mere moment.

"No problem."

Maybe there was a chance after all for this girl to recover. She didn't need to learn strength from him, she already had it in spades.

He glanced at Lisa and he asked, "Is everything all right at home?"

She said, "It means another mouth, but we will make do. She is blood."

He concurred as he understood.

___

Misha opened his door after he heard someone knock. He frowned down at a boy who was dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans. Though, it was too cold outside to wander around like that at this time of the night.

A woman appeared next to the boy and he asked, "Ruth? What the heck are you doing here?"

She placed a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I need a place to crash. I had to give up my apartment to pay for the hospital bills."

That was typical of Ruth, to only visit when she wanted something.

Misha gestured to her and asked, "Yours?"

"No, he has leukemia."

He stared at the kid closely. He was about five or six. He hadn't seen Ruth in five or six years. He looked up with shock and she shook her head. She had clearly done the same mental math he had done.

"He's Nemo's."

"While you were with me?"

He growled at the thought. Nemo was a loser then and was probably still a loser. If she cheated on him with such a guy, he would need to go see the doctor to make sure he wasn't a carrier for some disease.

"No, I would never do that to you. That was the only thing you asked from me and when I knew I couldn't keep that promise, I left. But not while we were together."

Ruth gave him those soulful eyes. She hadn't changed much in the years since he had known her. She still had the straight brown hair cut as a bob. Her brown eyes always reminded him of a puppy and she certainly knew how to use them on him.

He waved them inside. He offered them both something to drink. Ruth sat at the kitchen table and fussed with the boy until she shooed him off to the lounge area with a set of old baseball cards.

"He's in remission, except we don't know how long that will last."

Misha stared at the boy. He could see Nemo in the boy. He wasn't surprised Nemo was no longer in the picture. He was always a fair-weather friend. Ruth, despite her manipulative nature towards men was a good person and she had deserved better than to be used by Nemo. At least she was doing right by her son. With time she might grow out of her bad habits. Ruth stared at him with a soft nostalgic smile.

"I like the new tattoos."

That made Misha stop. He had started to make sandwiches for all of them. It was clear Ruth was without a few meals. He stared at the kid and said, "I think I know someone who could help."

___

Misha pressed the buzzer and looked to where he now knew the camera to be.

"I thought I told you to stay away from here."

He was a little worried Halcyon wouldn't allow him to come, even though she had offered an invitation.

He pulled the kid into the view of the camera. He was swamped in one of Misha's old coats and said one word he knew would melt her heart. "Leukemia."

There was a long minute of silence, then the gate opened. Ruth asked, "Are you sure about this?"

"Yeah, she can help, well maybe. It will depend." He guided them through the courtyard. Halcyon was already in the parlor.

She glanced at the kid; he realised she stared at the kid's aura. This was the part that had worried him. Ruth wouldn't deal well if he had gotten her hopes up and then dashed them so easily.

Misha let out a breath when Halcyon said, "I can do it. It will cost you."

Halcyon's eyes turned to him and pierced him. He knew what she thought. She had told him to stay away. And yet, she had still offered the invitation. He understood what he was getting into when he had come here.

"Anything." He said.

She eyed him for a long time.

"Just so you know I'm going to make you pay."

He agreed; she probably was mad at him for risking himself by coming here. He would take it and it was only fair. No kid should have to pay to survive.

Ruth wrapped her hands around her kid as she crouched next to him. "What is going on?"

Halcyon stared at her and then back to Misha. "Girlfriend?"

He winced and hoped Ruth wouldn't be offended by Halcyon's blunt nature. "No, an old friend."

He didn't want to add that he had complicated feelings when it came to Ruth. She had left him after all. He knew she was right that they would have suffocated each other in the end.

"Good. I wouldn't want to make this awkward for you," she knelt by the boy and said, "See this tattoo on my face, well you see it makes me better, not sick anymore. I'm going to put the same tattoo on you, and it will make you better. You will always be better."

Ruth asked, "What? Are you saying it will cure him? Forever."

Halcyon stared at her. "Yes. He will never have any illness ever again. You'll never have to take him to another hospital."

Tears came to Ruth's eyes. "How can I thank you?" These were the rare real tears. There was no doubt she loved her son.

Halcyon waved it off with her fluid hands. "I told you, Misha will take care of it."

She picked up the boy and placed him on the chair. Clearly, she was adding to her glyphs. He wanted to know how they appeared. Would they be that vivid blue his were? Then, he realised her landscape on her chest was a lot different from his own and he stood there appreciating how she would sculpt the glyphs around what was there.

Halcyon reassured the boy and even patted him on his arm before she turned back to her tools. "This is going to hurt I'm afraid."

The boy said in a steely voice, "I can handle pain."

Halcyon's eyes turned dark. "I just bet you can."

That was why he brought him, he knew Halcyon would understand the pain and trials the kid had to endure just to be alive and breathing today. He ached to think of the scary ordeal she went through and from what she had said, there hadn't been anyone there with her while she went through all that.

Misha still didn't know what had happened to her parents. He wasn't even sure if they were alive. If his parents had still been alive, he knew with all of his soul they would have stayed with him through hell. Halcyon had gone through hell alone and that only made him realise how strong she was.

Ruth came over to him. She twisted her hands together in a nervous habit. "Thank you, Misha."

He turned to her. He could see what she went through had aged her as well, the fine lines around eyes too old for her age.

"You can't tell anyone. They would hunt her down, you understand that. Just say you got the tattoo as a celebration because he is in remission and just live your life."

He dreaded the day people thought Halcyon had the secret to eternal youth or ultimate power. Humans had destroyed their own world for selfish reasons and there was nothing to say that the human race had changed in any significant way over the last few decades.

Ruth was trustworthy though and sometimes acted how bright she was. "I can do that."

Once the tattoo was done Halcyon said to Ruth, "He is going to throw up for a few days as his body gets rid of the rest of the cancer. It is the only time he will be that bad. The glyph will maintain his health from then and purge everything naturally."

She pressed some things into Ruth's hand and said, "You need to go out the back entrance. Make sure no one follows you and don't go back to anything you have known before. Make a new life for yourself."

Ruth opened her hand and saw Halcyon had placed some money in her hands. When she tried to give it back Halcyon only shook her head and closed her hand over the notes. "I have enemies and they will recognise the glyph, so you keep safe."

Ruth and her boy left. Halcyon started to clean up her gear. She didn't look up from her work, her voice like steel though brittle.

"You are going to be my bodyguard. I told you I had enemies and now you are part of it all. Get on the chair and I'll give you the next glyph. You are no good to me if you die on me."

He smiled, she might be gruff, but he would make sure she wanted him around after this. Maybe forever. He went to the chair and heaved himself onto it. He took off his shirt and flicked it over one of the chairs by the window. "What are you giving me this time?"

She already played with her things and said offhandedly, "Balance."

Honestly curious, he asked, "Internal or like real balance?"

Though it didn't really matter, he would take any glyph she was willing to give him.

"I'm not sure yet though, since the others have had a physical component, I'm thinking the real thing," she turned to him and said, "I didn't like it when you were away."

Misha searched her eyes. He wondered if she really meant it. Her emotions seemed to be buried so deep then he remembered she was always so crushingly honest; she wouldn't lie about something like this.

"I missed you too."

Halcyon huffed and fiddled with her things, but he could see she blushed. "That isn't what I meant."

"Sure, sweetheart."

He grinned. Maybe even she wasn't sure what she felt.

"I have a very big needle here."

She waved the tattoo gun and mock-glared at him.

"And you are going to stick me with it anyway."

He chuckled as she muttered under her breath. He thought he might just love her. She certainly was fun to be with even when there was danger around.

___

Numbers and equations latched onto ideas in her head. If this was this, then she could do this. Ah, but it really was this. Hal wasn't even aware she was no longer alone in her workshop until she felt him stand behind her. Very close. Usually she didn't like it when people came close to her personal space.

Misha brushed the tips of his fingers over the back of her neck to get her attention. He liked touching her there. She blinked up from her work and asked, "Misha?" Even though it could only be him.

He placed some food on the table next to her. It was just a sandwich, but as she stared at it, it made her realise she was starving. She grabbed it and thanked him past a mouthful. She watched him for a while as he watched her.

Hal swallowed and asked, "Why do you always touch me?"

Misha grinned and there was a dimple in one of his cheeks. She could see what the kids in his class saw.

He countered with, "Do you like it when I touch you?"

She would be dead and buried, if she didn't.

This sudden thought made her think about it deeper for a while. When he had first started touching her it was after her attack. At first, she was astonished, but now she rather expected it. People didn't usually touch her.

Even people she saw quite regularly like Kim Si and his wife. Mind you, they were not the kind to be touchy feely. Was it only because she surrounded herself with other standoffish people like her that she had avoided being touched in the past? She discarded this thought almost immediately.

"Yeah, I kinda do. Wait, are we flirting?"

He chuckled. "Da, little one. We have been flirting for a while. I wondered when you would figure it out."

Hal chewed another bite and thought over everything. Her mother had always told her she needed to be more sociable and practice her flirting. The last man she had flirted with had thought she was threatening him and had a restraining order against her. Well, she thought it had expired by now as that was a while ago. Eventually, she admitted, "I'm terrible at this kind of thing."

"Not so much. You respond as you should, I just don't think you realise."

His eyes seemed darker than usual and his voice sounded rough. Surely, he was lying, so she checked his aura. No, there was no sign of stress or deception. Wow, he really did think she was flirting with him. She was tempted to look over the security footage to see what he meant. Maybe with study and observation she could document her flirting.

"I wish there could be a formula or something I could go by in interacting with people."

He said, "I wouldn't worry about it too much. You are abrupt, but you are fair. Those who know you, forgive the abruptness and the others are impatient and not worthy of your concern."

She wasn't really asking about other people. She wanted to know what he thought of her.

She licked some mayonnaise off a finger. "That sounded all nice and pretty, except I really didn't understand half of it. So, do you like me or not?"

He laughed and stood up. He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

"People I know, Halcyon and you know machines. No one expects you to know everything."

That still didn't answer her question. Before he left, though he said in a soft voice. His lips just by her ear. "I do like you."

His voice sent a shiver of feeling over her skin. He left then and she stared at the goose bumps on her arm. Now what was that problem she was working on before?

Chapter Five

Freedom: November, 2054

The patter of rain on the roof woke Professor Green. She lay awake for a while and tried to identify the sound. When she realised what it was, she scrambled out of bed and woke Dave as she did. She careened out of her small room off the side of the lab and then outside. Completely soaked through she laughed as she twirled in the rain.

Dave stood at the door and yelled, "Get inside Professor, or you're going to catch your death from cold."

She ignored him and laughed hysterically. He came out and grabbed her and headed her towards the doorway.

She caught him and spun him around. "It is raining Dave. Rain!"

He frowned, then looked up. He went still and she went out of his still grip and danced through the rain. She sang the few lines from 'Singing in the rain' as she jumped in small puddles. There were tears on her face that disappeared in the rain. Dave yelled over the sound of the rain.

"How is this possible? We are inside that dome of yours."

She nodded vigorously. "I knew it was possible, I just didn't think it would happen this quickly." She spun around. "We are a complete environment. We don't have to worry about the weather outside, at all."

She went up to him. Water plastered her hair against her head and she had to blink rapidly to dislodge droplets from her eyelashes. "This is going to save us all, Dave. No one will have to die because of the weather ever again."

His eyes sparked and he pulled her in for an embrace, "You are a genius, Professor. A genius."

Panacea: May, 2086

Hal woke in the middle of the night as the alarms went off. She quickly dressed in something a little more practical than overalls as she expected to fight. When she got to the top of the stairs Misha stumbled out of the spare room. She dashed down the stairs. She patted his shoulder when she passed him, not sure how she could tell him to be careful without sounding like an idiot. She went over to her worktop and flicked off the audible alarm.

"Marcus is attacking. The monitors show dozens of men."

Misha stood next to her and he rubbed his face. He wasn't the kind who could wake up on a dime like her. "Where do you need me?"

She gestured to the back of the buildings, at the small alleyway between the buildings. "They will come through the back and I'll take the ones in the front. I left you some goodies."

She pointed to a registered gun she had gotten last year. She had spent a week trying to find it. She wondered why she had kept it.

Misha waved off her suggestion. "I won't need it."

"Just don't get hurt."

He grinned at her and shocked her by pulling her close and kissed her. His hands closed around her shoulders and she automatically tilted her head up for a kiss. His lips were softer than she had expected. He also tasted interesting. Also, something she hadn't expected, though now she thought about it, he tasted and felt just as she wanted him to. He groaned as he pulled back. His eyes danced with emotion and when he spoke his voice was ragged.

"Same for you, sweetheart."

___

Misha headed to the back entrance. He got more from that kiss than he had expected. She was more responsive than he expected from an innocent like her. He had to shake his head to bring himself to the moment and the situation they were in.

Lights blazed throughout the courtyard. That must be part of the alarms Halcyon had set up.

He could hear them bang against the door with something. Halcyon had kindly set up a monitor that showed they had a police ram. He wondered where they procured one of those.

Halcyon had left some surprises for Marcus' men. The second they bent the door, he heard screams. Thankfully, the camera was at the wrong angle for him to see exactly what welcome party she had prepared for Marcus' goons.

Hal crouched down behind a piece of wreck she was going to cannibalize later. There was a loud boom and her gates were run down by a large SUV. People jumped out. She ducked and closed her eyes as she waited for the first booby-trap to explode. She didn't have to wait long and there was another loud sound. There were screams after that.

She stood, carrying a crowbar loosely in her fist. Unlike Misha, she wasn't a martial artist. The men from the SUV lay on the ground unconscious, but there were others waiting outside the gate.

She ran towards them before they could bring their guns up. She held the crowbar like a baseball bat to the nearest man. She heard the crack and hoped he wasn't dead though she didn't hesitate. They would kill her if they could.

She danced around the courtyard to avoid her traps while she led them into them.

By the time the State Enforcers arrived, she bled sluggishly from a bullet graze on her shoulder and her arms actually ached. There was a pile of men around her. One dangled upside down from one of her booby-traps. Only one bullet had managed get through her glyphs. It was already healing. She tugged on her shirt and hoped they didn't notice the hole in the t-shirt. She could always excuse the blood and say it wasn't hers.

Men in black armour filled the space of her courtyard with alarming speed. Lights made her blink and suddenly she was on the ground and someone pulled her arms behind her. She didn't struggle that would only make things worse.

___

Misha paced up and down the room. He didn't like to be confined. He had never liked the authorities either. They had heard his father's accent and had assumed things about him. When gangs had killed him, they had written him off completely.

Enforcer Harold came into the room and motioned for Misha to sit, he felt rebellious so he didn't. Instead, he went to a corner and leaned against the wall. The Enforcer shrugged and placed a folder on the table.

It wasn't very large and Misha almost preened. The bastards had put that together at the last minute. They had no idea who he was. He was at the University long enough to learn enough to know Enforcer Harold used an interrogation technique on him.

The Enforcer opened the folder and pulled out a picture of his father. It was a crime scene photo and there were close ups as well. Misha grimaced. He had seen his father's body when he and his mother had gone to identify the body, but the cops then had not been crass enough to make him look at the scene photos. He had only been sixteen so maybe they had some sensibilities.

"You were pretty young when he died. Maybe you decided to lash out."

Misha grunted. No clue, whatsoever. Enforcer Harold was trying to make him angry. Fortunately, he recognized it was merely a fishing expedition. "Did he teach you how not to get caught?"

"I'm not in any of the gangs." Misha kept his tone light.

Misha bristled. Why the cops and Enforcers always assumed because he was a big man and that he could fight meant he automatically had to be a gang member.

"Not according to our sources. They say you have affiliations with several of the gangs."

Misha said, "I make friends."

"I'm sure you are really friendly."

The man brought out a picture of Sandra. This one was an arrest photo. She appeared thirty even though she couldn't be more than twenty in the photo. The drugs had taken more from her than her youth.

She had fallen completely when her brother had gone into the gangs. When she had wanted the money for drugs, she had gone down dark paths. Misha knew this and he had tried to help her as much as he could. Except there was only so much you could do for an ex-girlfriend.

"Were you her first pimp?"

Misha snorted, now they were just being offensive.

He approached the table and sat down; he was curious. He picked through the other photos. There were some of his friends, including Degu. Degu seemed different. Curse it, Halcyon was right. He pulled him out.

"You really shouldn't have this photo for interrogation. You might show it to the wrong person and get him killed. I know you are State, but I don't think the locals will appreciate you breaking his cover."

The Enforcer went tense with that. "Are you saying this particular fellow is an undercover policeman?"

Misha gloated as he understood something the Enforcer didn't. "Yeah. He used me to get introduced to people. He didn't tell me he was undercover then, but I figured it out."

He wouldn't say Halcyon had figured it out by reading his aura or EMF's that would just freak the Enforcer out. And Misha wanted to avoid prison.

He pushed Degu's picture to the side and went through the others. There was the death certificate for his mother. She had died of heart disease at a very young age. He stroked the page for a second and then went on to the others.

Eventually, Misha pushed them all aside and asked, "What is this supposed to prove? That you guys have nothing on me. I hang out with people in my neighbourhood and that isn't a crime. Yeah, some of them are dirty, but I haven't done anything myself and you can't prove otherwise."

The Enforcer ignored him. "What can you tell us about Halcyon Smith?"

Misha leaned back. He had wondered why the Enforcers themselves had taken an interest in all of this. Usually a gang retaliation like this would be dealt with by the police.

"She has a rep in the neighbourhood for doing mean tattoos. I met her when Degu took me to see her. She wouldn't do any tats for Degu though she would for me." He pulled up his t-shirt and showed his glyph on his chest. "She does some mean work. We started hanging out after that and that is pretty much all of it."

Misha left out the gunshot wound or that they were flirting. The Enforcer would think that was too quaint for someone of his ilk.

"What about her machines?"

It was curious that they asked about the machines. Misha thought they were interesting and certainly innovative, but they weren't Halcyon's greatest invention.

"Ah, well, I've seen her working on them, but they haven't really been an interest to me. I'm more of a hands-on kind of person."

Misha downplayed his intelligence as he had always done to survive.

The Enforcer slipped a photo from under the folder. It was of one of Halcyon's machines. He could see it was one of her prototypes as it had the distinct glyphs plainly visible on the metal. She had told him she had gone micro three years ago, so this was one of the early ones. There was an evidence sticker on the machine in the picture so the cops must have taken it in at some stage.

"What do you know about this?"

The Enforcer's voice betrayed that this was the real reason he was being questioned.

"It's one of Halcyon's."

Misha wouldn't give more information than he had to. The fight against enforcement was too strong in his blood. In the neighbourhood, police were the intruders sent to create conformity.

The Enforcer didn't show his exasperation and pushed on. "Anything else you can tell me?"

Misha crossed his arms over his chest. "No."

The Enforcer tapped the picture. "What does it do?"

"No idea. Your guess is as good as mine."

Harold said gruffly, "Did you know that the metal it's encased in is double its normal strength?"

Halcyon had said the tensile could be increased exponentially, so this must be a really early model.

Harold waved to the picture. "What are these symbols?"

"Decoration?" Misha said perversely.

"Very funny," the Enforcer's voice oozed sarcasm.

Misha smiled at the Enforcer. "Seriously, I don't know. It is way out of my league. I don't know if you have figured this out, but Halcyon is clever. I mean like super smart. When she talks about this stuff, it goes straight over the top of my head," Misha lied easily.

He understood her; he just wasn't interested in the details. He appreciated her work like a normal person would admire an artist. They knew it was an application of paint and brushstrokes though beyond that they had no idea how it was done.

"Why don't you guess what it is?"

Misha pulled the picture closer and studied it carefully. None of the moving parts were visible and the case was probably to hide the workings. It would be near impossible to open up without breaking the small workings inside. There was a handle and a nozzle. It could be anything from something that sniffed things to a fire extinguisher.

Misha said, "It sniffs out the molecular structure of things. I don't know."

The man stared at the gadget then frowned. "We might get you to look at it."

Misha shrugged. "It would be a complete waste of time. I have no idea how it works. Just ask Halcyon. If it isn't dangerous, she would be more than happy to show you. She's smart, she knows how to stay out of trouble."

She was like him in that regard. They had grown up rough, but they had skirted the dangers in their own ways.

___

Hal glared at the State Enforcers. One at the door and the other, Harold, sat in front of her. Her hands were handcuffed to the metal table which sat inside a pretty plain and depressing room. The proper lighting could set it off lovely especially if they bothered to put actual furniture in. The handcuffs dug into her skin a little.

She asked while she tugged on them, "Can we get a bit more comfortable before you start interrogating me?"

Harold, who sat opposite her at the metal table, raised an eyebrow, then waved to the guards. She sighed and rubbed her wrists once they released her.

"So, I take it you want to know about something else besides the dead guys at my place?"

He placed a picture on the table of a hand held spectrometer.

"Mm, yeah, this is one of mine. What do you want to know?"

He growled; his frustration clear. She had already been there for over an hour, so she wondered if he had already spoken to Misha. "Where are the patents for it?"

Hal snorted with laughter, on a good day, less than half of her work was patented.

"Parts of it are patented, but I don't think that is what you're asking about."

People only patented stuff if they were worried someone was close and they wanted to protect themselves. She was more worried about people copying her or figuring out what she did.

Pulling the notebook and pen closer she started to write down reference numbers and pushed it towards Harold. "Here are the parts that are patented."

He seemed amazed she had given over the information so easily. Hal asked, "What? You thought I would keep it a secret?"

Harold took the notebook and passed it to one of his colleagues. "Tell us what it does?"

She said, "You don't even know what it does? Wow."

She realised the Enforcers had access to some of the brightest and best scientists the City State had to provide.

She gestured for another notebook and an Enforcer provided it. She drew diagrams of a user manual. She had made it years ago, so she had to pause every now and then try to remember what she had done and how it worked. She asked after a while.

"Is it still working? I mean, if it is broken, then this isn't going to help you."

She pushed the diagrams towards Harold.

He betrayed in his aura his desire for the instructions though he didn't reveal anything in his gesture or expression.

"We've managed to turn it on. We just don't know what it does."

Hal sighed, seriously? She understood the scientists, they would have consulted, surely, they would have figured out how to do more than turning it on.

"Then here are the instructions for using it. It's for finding out what stuff is made out of. I made a couple of these a few years ago. One was for a guy who used it to figure out the secret ingredients in his competitor's recipes. I can give you his name. Technically, he is guilty of business espionage, though, since this isn't a restricted item and I can honestly say he used it to find out what he was eating I'm not liable. The other one was for a school. For their science department. They couldn't afford the big equipment you guys have, but they wanted to give their students a chance to be like the big guys."

She wrote the details down at the bottom of the instructions. She wasn't sure of the names, but she had remembered their State ID's. She flicked a hand at the picture of the spectrometer.

"Is this what you were looking for the other day?"

Harold studied her carefully and countered with his own question, "Is that what the men tried to get from you?"

Hal said, "They wanted that gadget I smashed the other day. It was a building tool that basically can cut anything like butter."

His eyes were steely. "Anything else at your compound we should know about?"

She said, "Oh, plenty, but I'm not sure what you would be interested in."

He said, his teeth gritted. "Now is the million-dollar question, Miss Smith. How did two people take down two dozen heavily armed and armoured men with no weapons?"

She smiled as she was amazed it had taken him this long to get to their evening's events. "Now, that is going to be my secret. I should tell you Misha is a trained fighter."

They obviously didn't care about her interactions with Marcus' goons, otherwise they would have asked about that first. She wished Misha could see her and how well she could read Harold. He would be impressed.

"Yes, we have a record of his father, though very little on him."

She said, "Misha might be part of the neighborhood, but he is a good man. You won't find anything shady in his file, but don't take my word for it. You have one of your men undercover amongst the gangs. He used Misha to get a cred amongst the gangs because Misha grew up with many of the gang members. They trust Misha, but he isn't part of them. I don't remember what name he went by. Ask Misha he knows him better than I do, I only ever saw him the once."

"We were told of this undercover agent and we're very surprised you knew he was undercover."

Harold motioned to the window and the door opened. Misha's friend came in. He was cleaned up and she could see the police markers that made him like the other Enforcers. He leaned against the wall in a deceptively casual manner.

"Did Misha tell you about the undercover agent?"

She said, "I have enhancements, bioware."

She tapped her eyes. She assumed when they had processed her, they had picked that up.

"I saw your EMF fields and made some guesses. I did send you off to Carlos, didn't I? Did you find the surprise?"

Harold turned to him and Misha's friend sighed. "We managed to round up an arms smuggling ring. I'm still not sure how you knew about that."

She shrugged; she had discovered their activities when she researched the business owners after one of them had asked too innocently for some of her machines. Her own activities were completely illegal, but she knew the ends justified the means in this case.

"I hear things. People don't really notice me."

She stared at the picture of her gadget. She put together all the bits of clues the Enforcers had given her. "A drug dealer got hold of it, didn't they? That's why you were looking for contraband at my place. What mess did they make?"

The two men exchanged some significant looks before Degu asked, "Have you heard of Ambrosia?"

"Yeah, that's the drug Marcus is selling. Wait, he was always into my gadgets. Was it one of his labs you raided? He won't be pleased you have that. You can't think I have anything to do with it though."

Harold drawled, "Marcus sent a lot of his top goons to take you out. We have to think there's some history between you two. Did a partnership go wrong?"

Hal jerked with astonishment at the insinuation. "Wait, no way. I don't do drugs and I don't sell them, ever. I make machines. I try to make machines that help people and I regulate who gets them, but if those people sell them or they are stolen, there isn't much I can do, besides make them very hard to figure out on your own. Someone sold this to Marcus. Otherwise, he would have no idea how to work it. Let alone use it to figure out a new drug."

Again, the two men gave each other a telling look. Then Harold said, "Well, you are free to go."

___

Misha waited for her outside the building, leaning against the faux marble column. Hal glanced behind her to the large windows of the Enforcer building. She felt a shiver down her back and she knew they were still watching. When she was close enough to him, he reached out and lightly touched her cheek.

"They didn't hurt you, did they?" His voice gentle.

"What? The State Enforcers? No, Harold is a pussy cat."

His eyes darkened. "I meant Marcus' goons."

Her voice went soft with surprise. "Oh, no. No, well, one of them did shoot me."

Hal peeled back her shirt to show him it was already healed. He pressed his palm over the thin thread of the scar. She liked the feel of his big hands on her skin. Would he be offended if she asked him to do that more often?

She chewed on her lip. They flirted, though she still wasn't quite sure what they were.

Hal let go of the shirt and tugged on his arm. "We need to get back to the workshop and fix up the gates. It has probably been looted already."

He shook his head and put his arm around her shoulders. "I called in a few friends and they are watching the place."

She grinned and snuggled against his side. "Oh, did the State Enforcers give you your one phone call?"

He snorted; he wasn't sure why people assumed they were allowed one phone call when you were arrested. He had this discussion with his father when he was younger and was adamant it wasn't fair. Eventually, his father had shown him the City charter and there was no mention there of people's right for a phone call when they were arrested.

"No, I just managed to keep my phone."

She wrinkled her nose. "They had me handcuffed, so I couldn't use my phone."

Not that she had thought of calling anyone. Misha was the first person she had really let into her life.

He tugged on a strand of her hair and asked, "What did you do that you ended up in cuffs?"

She shrugged her shoulders. Maybe she shouldn't have mouthed off at the Enforcers in the car. She had been riding on adrenaline and she would quite happily use that for an excuse.

Hal tugged his hand around her shoulders. She stumbled, as she subconsciously tried to keep up with him, he obliged by walking slower. He was massive compared to her short and compact figure, but he somehow made her feel delicate. He pressed his cheek against her hair.

"I hope we never have to go through that again."

She made some non-committal sound as she enjoyed just being with him.

Hal asked nervously as she realised with this showdown, he might think they had sent Marcus a suitable message and he would back off. "Are you moving out?"

"Why? Do you want me to?" His voice was warm like honey.

"No."

Hal hoped he didn't hear how quickly she had spoken.

"I'll stay then."

Warmth filled her like someone had poured warm wax through her and she was a mold.

Chapter Six

Freedom: December, 2054

Professor Green reached up to hook the line of lights up. She jumped when Dave came behind her and put his steadying hands on her waist. She looked down at him with a smile. She finished and he picked her up and put her down on the ground. He gazed up at the string of lights she had just finished putting up. There was a bit of green foliage as well next to it and he asked, "Is that mistletoe?"

She shook her head and looked up to where he looked. "Holly I think, close enough to make no never mind."

Waving to the decorations she and the others had put up in the large communal room. "What do you think? Does it feel like Christmas?"

He kissed her lightly and said, "Close enough." She smiled and he put his arms around her. "This is as close to Christmas as it has been in a long time. There is even snow outside."

She blinked in astonishment. "Really?"

Pulling from his arms she grabbed her coat before she went outside. It was cold, but nothing like the previous cold seasons. This one had also started much later in the year and was almost in sync with old traditional seasons. Dave was right. There was a light dusting of snow falling. She could make out the blizzard outside the membrane, but inside it was just soft eddies falling gently.

Reaching out her arms she watched as snowflakes landed on her clothes and when they hit her hands, they melted instantly. Like when she was a child, she opened her mouth and tried to catch a snowflake.

Dave chuckled at her attempt. "Shall we say this is my Christmas present to you?"

She turned to him. "I didn't expect anything."

She was used to not receiving presents when usually at this time of the year people were desperately trying not to freeze or starve to death. The war had taken a toll on the people, but here starvation was the real bogeyman. He motioned to her and she went into his arms.

Dave looked down at her and she let a smile touch her lips. "I would give you the world if I could."

He kissed her and said, "You already have."

Panacea: May, 2086

Hal placed the box on the counter and smiled at the man behind it. He glared at her. He wore a black suit like it was a uniform. She wondered if every Enforcer had a closet full of black suits.

"Can I talk to Harold?"

The Enforcer glowered at her, then finally picked up the phone. She took a seat on one of the chairs, she assumed was uncomfortable on purpose, and swung her feet as she waited for Harold.

It didn't take long for the Enforcer to arrive. He glared at her and she smiled.

"I have a gift for you."

Hopping up she offered him the box.

He waved for her to follow; except she was stopped by guards. The box beeped under the metal detectors. Lifting one corner of the box he peered inside, but the shadows hid what was inside. He motioned to the things in the box.

"What the heck is this?"

The Enforcer took the box from her and gestured for her to stand with her arms away from her body. She complied easily.

"Well, I kinda felt bad that one of my thingamajigs was being used by the bad guys, so I thought I'd bring you something to even the playing field."

The guards patted her down to see if she carried a weapon.

"We have the thingamajig now Miss Smith and according to you they wouldn't be able to replicate it."

The guards finished and gave a nod to Harold.

"They have the recipe already so I thought this could make it better."

She motioned to the box to indicate what she was talking about. He exhaled loudly and waved to the guards to let her through. He took her to his office, which was crowded amongst others. With glass walls, it really wasn't very private.

She left the box on his table, which she noticed was scrupulously clean and ordered.

She flicked a hand towards the box. "I wrote some instructions in there for how to use them."

He took one of them. It was round to fit in the palm better with a L.C.D readout. There were about a dozen in the box. They were simple to make. As she had laid awake the night before thinking about her spectrometer and how she actually could make it so much better now.

Then, she had thought of making something which could read just one thing and that had led to her making these things. She thought she might have gone too far.

"What is it?"

She quickly demonstrated how it worked.

"It's a kind of sniffer. It can find ambrosia for you. It doesn't have a great range, less than 100 meters, but it should allow you guys to find Marcus' drugs."

He stared at it for a long time. "Does it have a name?"

She wrinkled her nose as she thought. "I'm not so good at naming things. I call it George. I knew him in school and he had this massive nose. Seriously, you can name it what you like. There isn't anything else like it out there."

He nodded to placate her. "Our scientists were pleased with the other gadget. Especially when they knew how it worked."

She grinned warmed by the secondhand praise from others in her field. She had worked with their kind before and they usually had derision for her instead of praise. "They are also a fraction of the cost of making the real thing. Give me an order for them when you need to upgrade. I could always do with the work and you guys seem safer than others."

Harold placed George on the table and tapped it thoughtfully. "You didn't have to do this."

Hal stood. "Yeah, I did. We all make mistakes, but they only remain mistakes if we don't do anything about them. Let me fix this in some small way. Besides, I like you, Harold."

He ignored the last, except to give her a telling look.

"Marcus will still be after you."

She shrugged off his warning. There wasn't much they could do about Marcus.

"I can handle him."

She hoped.

___

Natasha knocked on the door of Misha's apartment. It was late and Misha should be home. She had tried to call him from the train station, except she had run out of money on her phone. Exhausted, all she wanted was to crash on his couch and maybe wake up next week. She looked up when one of the neighbours opened their door.

He wore a robe over some boxers. She wasn't sure if he was just in bed or this was what he wore in the evening. "Looking for Misha?"

She nodded and moved towards him.

"Well, he has moved in with a girl, four blocks over." That shocked her. Misha was always cautious when it came to girls.

The man had obviously been aware of her plight as he handed over a scrap of paper with an address on it.

"This is where he's staying. You should head over there soon before curfew."

She had forgotten about curfew in the city. The edges didn't worry about stuff like that.

She thanked the man. Picking up her bags she headed out of Misha's apartment building.

It wasn't hard to find the place where Misha was staying. She wasn't sure it was the right place, though, as she rang the buzzer. It appeared more like an industrial place.

"What do you want?" Blared suddenly in a woman's voice over the intercom.

Natasha blinked at the harsh tone. "I'm looking for Misha. Is he here?"

There was a short silence, then the voice asked, "Who is asking?"

Natasha ran a hand through her hair. "I'm Natasha, his cousin."

"Cousin?"

The gate opened with a screech and there was a sigh over the intercom. "Give it a push, will you, when you come in?"

Natasha entered and shoved the gate closed. A shiver went down her spine and she was worried she had locked herself in. She wandered through the maze of dead cars and other interesting things.

She found a woman in a workshop with her head bowed over a computer. She didn't look up when Natasha came in. Instead, she flapped a hand towards her.

"Misha is in the shower. Take a seat." And motioned to the side of the workshop.

Natasha looked around. There was a kitchen and a lounge area to the side. Natasha sighed as she dropped her bags and rubbed her shoulder where the strap had cut into the skin. The woman appeared suddenly with a mug of faux-coffee.

"He always feeds me, so I suppose you expect food."

Natasha blinked, confused. "No, I'm fine for the moment. Thank you."

Natasha studied the woman Misha was supposedly living with. She had bright blue hair that stuck out at strange angles, probably because she always had a hand in it. She was petite, but well-formed. Natasha could have wished for half her curves. She was more boy-like like herself. If this woman wore anything form-fitting she would have ended up with a trail of drooling men behind her. Natasha could see what Misha saw in her.

She huffed. "Always so dang polite. So, why are you here?"

Natasha mulled over the question for a while. "I've moved to the city. I thought I would stay with Misha until I found a job."

She didn't think that was going to happen now he was living with a girl. She could probably get a place at one of the hostels, but without a job she had no money.

"There is a spare bedroom next to Misha's. You can stay there as long as you like. You'll need to clean it out though. I think it was used for storage. Misha knows what to do. What kind of work are you looking for?"

Misha had his own room? Maybe they weren't together. The woman took a seat opposite her on the other couch though it didn't match the couch she sat on. Natasha appreciated the moment to get her thoughts in order.

"Well, I'm not sure. I worked with my dad on a desalination plant."

Her eyes lit up. "You have those big machines, right? So, working there would be like a mechanic."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

Natasha had learned the hard way how to fix things. She didn't have any qualifications. That didn't used to matter though recently it had become more of a problem.

"There are a few wrecks around here you can fix up and sell. This place used to be a chop shop so there are all sorts of interesting things. Misha is helping me clean up. If you can fix up and sell some of the stuff for a profit, you can keep the money. Not like I need it."

If that meant she was rich, Natasha couldn't see it. Not from her clothes or even where she lived.

Natasha blinked, shocked by the offer. It was clear the woman didn't really want her there yet her offer of work was beyond generous and also to include a place to stay. She must really like Misha.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. I promise I won't overstay my welcome."

She flicked her hand in her own mannerism and waved off her objections.

"No problem, you have Misha's calm. I like calm."

The woman got up and walked away and went back to her work. It was like she had forgotten about her already.

Natasha finished her coffee and took it to the kitchen. She contemplated whether she should clean it or not.

She jumped when the woman suddenly said, "Misha! Someone here to see you."

Nastasha saw now there were monitors next to the computer that showed the view of several cameras. Misha wandered into the workshop with just a towel around his waist.

"Visitors?" he asked the woman.

The woman waved towards her and Misha smiled genuinely when he saw her. "Natasha."

He hugged her and left his hand on her shoulder when he finally pulled back. "What are you doing here?"

"I've moved to the city. Dad had to sell the house."

His eyes went sad. He realised what the sea and that house meant to her.

"Ah, Natasha, that isn't good."

She brushed it off. She had already grieved her mother's house and the fact she had to leave.

"There are worse things. Your friend says I can stay here."

Misha looked over his shoulder at the woman and smiled gently. He gestured to Natasha to follow. "Come. I need to dress and then we can talk."

The look in his eye told her even though he slept in another room he was definitely her man. The bedrooms were on two levels.

Natasha waited outside his door as he dressed.

He said through the door, "Halcyon was nice to you?"

"Yeah, I suppose. She is a bit—"

He came out and grinned as he said, "Abrupt. Yeah, she doesn't like many people, they just annoy her."

He seemed pleased with her prickly nature or was it because he liked her.

"Well, she said I can fix up some of the cars in the courtyard and sell them and keep the money."

Natasha gave him a look and he said, "She means it if she said it." So, she was honest about that.

"I was wondering what we would do with those. I thought maybe scrap them."

It was clear Misha felt like the place was his. This wasn't a temporary thing for him.

"You'll have to do that with some of them, but even moving them will be expensive. If I can get some of them running, it will be better."

Maybe he was really dating the woman even though it was clear he wasn't sharing her room.

"Halcyon has the money to move them. Don't judge her by her cover."

"So, your girlfriend is rich." At his look she asked, "What? She isn't rich or she isn't your girlfriend."

He said, "It's complicated."

Oh, very serious and she laughed. Feeling for the first time it might be all right to be in the city. She had forgotten how much she liked Misha.

___

Misha looked up when he heard the buzzer for the front gate. Halcyon answered before he could get to the screen.

"What?"

At least she answered all people like that. He moved so he could see who it was. There were actually a few cameras peppered around the place along with monitors. Halcyon had known he was there that night Degu had knocked on her door and she had asked whether he was alone.

It was an Asian man Misha knew owned one of the buildings in the neighbourhood. Misha did not have much to do with him as he was a straight arrow businessman and unlikely to ever go to the Center.

"Kim Si?"

"Let me in, Hal."

Halcyon buzzed him in even though he was as rude as she was. Maybe they were friends. That amused Misha for a while. They were both business people and both very rude, but other than that they were completely different.

Kim Si made a lot of noise as he made his way further into the warehouses. Halcyon seemed to forget the man was even there and returned to her work. Misha came over to her and stood behind her. He didn't think Kim Si had anything to do with Marcus but he wasn't going to take any chances. Finally, the small businessman stood next to her, and tugged on his clothes.

"What a mess, little one. How do you find anything you need amongst this junk?"

She snorted and said while working, "You must be annoyed if you are calling this junk."

"Mmm." He looked past her to him and waved Misha forward. "I have heard of your friend with the tattoos."

She automatically defended him, which warmed him inside. "I have the glyphs as well, Kim Si. I just use Misha as my guinea pig."

She flashed a grin at Misha.

Halcyon finished what she was doing and set aside the soldering iron.

"You've never been interested in the tattoos before," she asked as Kim Si looked him over like he was a new car he intended to buy.

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

Halcyon packed away her tools. She might have what seemed like junk. She always packed away her things and the workshop was spotless.

Kim Si exhaled loudly in a rough approximation of a stifled huff. "Do your tattoo things give him superpowers?"

Halcyon raised her eyebrows. "Depends what you consider superpowers."

"I heard it could heal cancer."

She frowned and Misha explained. "Ruth. Her kid had leukemia."

"Ah, that kid the other day. How do you know them?"

So much for her keeping secret that her son was cured of cancer. Kim Si twitched his nose as he thought.

"Ruth lives in my apartment building. She had to give up the apartment to pay for the medical bills, now she has the money and says she doesn't have to worry about the boy. Then, I remembered when you first moved here and you were also always in the hospital and then not. You and the kid have the same tattoo. So does this man here."

Kim Si motioned to the glyph on Misha's cheek.

"Um, I don't want—" She started and shifted uncomfortably on her stool.

"Some of us were talking. What about those in the neighbourhood who have cancer? They can't afford the fancy stuff they give to the bigwigs. Work through your boy here or one of us. We can weed out the ones wanting to take advantage of you."

She hesitated. "I'm not sure."

Misha asked her, "Is it about money?"

She rubbed a hand through her hair. "I don't want to take money for the glyphs. I mean, it was by accident I found them and if the rich people got their hands on it, they will try to monopolize it."

Kim Si said, "It still costs you and giving away stuff makes people not appreciate it. What does it cost you to make these things?"

Kim Si waved his hand at her face. She twitched her nose as she thought, mirroring Kim Si's previous mannerism.

"Well, the inks and the gear wear out and there are some things in it I find hard to get hold of."

Kim Si nodded, taking in her list. "Then have them pay you in trade. Something from your hard to get list. That way they will appreciate the gift and you still won't keep it out of the hands of the poor."

Misha cleared his throat. "Send them to me first. I can use some equipment here to tell whether the glyphs will work."

Kim Si said, "It won't work on everyone?"

Halcyon emphatically tried to explain with her hands. "Oh, no. If the EMF is all over the place, it will be no good."

Kim Si frowned as he thought about this. "What would make this EMF be no good?"

She tapped her lip as she thought. "If the person isn't centered. Or hasn't dealt with issues in their life."

He waved it off. "Bah, so a good shrink and some meditations."

Halcyon smiled and Misha realised Kim Si really was a friend even though they spoke so brusquely with each other.

"Pretty much. I can have Misha test their EMF before they go looking for the things on my list. Mmmm, I'll have to think of what I need."

Misha smoothed his hand over the hair she had mussed when she had run her hands through it. Kim Si gave him a look and Misha moved closer to her. Kim Si silently accepted his claim with a slight bow of his head.

"I've read the book; I know most of the semi-precious stones. I'll put those on the list for you. Also, you wanted to replace those things those men broke when Marcus sent them to attack you."

Halcyon went still and he wondered what he had said that had upset her.

"I can't have Marcus know what I'm doing, otherwise he will pick on those sick people."

Kim Si grumbled. "Don't worry, we will deal with Marcus."

Halcyon shook her head and he realised Kim Si was someone she actually cared about. Just because they were both rude to each other had meant that he was safe from Marcus because he would never have thought these two were friends.

"Kim Si, he is dangerous."

He brushed it off easily.

"Don't worry about that popinjay. I will bring over the first sick ones to your boyfriend here tomorrow. Will you have the testing thing by then?"

She chewed on her lip. "Boyfriend?"

Misha smiled, amused by what she picked up as important. "Not to worry Halcyon, he is only teasing. He doesn't mean anything by it."

She stared at him and asked, "You aren't insulted?"

Misha chuckled. "To be associated with you. Never," he growled the last as it became all too serious.

___

Panacea: June, 2086

The buzzer went on the front gate. Misha manned that because lately there had been a few people who Kim Si had sent over.

Misha rubbed the grease off his hands before he answered. "Yeah."

He could only see a small form and the crown of a head in the camera.

"Misha is that you?"

"Ari?"

His voice trembled in the speakers. "I didn't know where to go, Misha."

Misha buzzed the gate open and met the boy halfway. It was clear he had been crying, his face was puffy with long shed tears. His shoulders were slumped seemingly with the whole world on his shoulders. Ari had grown up rough and he would have learned early to handle his tears. Misha placed a hand on his shoulder and crouched down.

"What happened?" Misha said in a gentle voice.

"It's Jacob. He hasn't been home in two days. I tried to find him, but—"

Misha squeezed his shoulder. "Do you have some place to go?"

Ari bowed his head as he bit his lip. "Mom is all upset. She threw a pot at her boyfriend. She blames him for Jacob getting into—" He sniffed bravely.

"It is all right, Ari. You go home to your mom and I'll have a look around."

Ari sniffed again. "I knew I could count on you."

Misha smiled softly at the blind faith of children, even after all the times they were let down by adults. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ari straightened his shoulders as he tried to be brave. "You're one of the good guys. Like you see on TV, I mean. Like a hero or something."

Misha didn't want to dispel that thought from the kid though he didn't want him to get his hopes up too high either.

"I'm just a person Ari, but I'll do all that I can."

Misha watched Ari as he left. He pulled out his phone and called Degu. "Where are the drug houses for Ambrosia?"

There was a tense silence on the line. "You think of doing something stupid there, Misha?"

"Yeah, probably. One of my students has gotten hooked and he hasn't been seen for a few days."

"Young?"

They were always too young for the darkness that came into their lives.

"Yeah, he's twelve."

There was another long pause. "I have a few places you can try."

___

The place appeared like it was eaten by a giant moth. Chunks of the walls were chewed and spit out around the bottom. A stiff breeze would topple this place though there were people inside as there was music which threaded its way from upstairs.

It was better than some of the other places he had already checked out. The one on 49th Pier was the worst. The street had once been a lively neighbourhood for rich holiday makers, but after the water had risen, it had turned the streets into a dystopia Venice. The 49th was where the water had stopped though in high tides the houses often flooded.

Most people had abandoned the area as it was dangerous with rotten buildings. It was still in the Weather Shield so it was safe enough in that regard. Lately drug houses and homeless people had moved into the area and it only deteriorated more.

Misha still had another place to look though he was hoping this was the last place.

Misha stepped carefully through the rubbish that spilled out of the doorway. His extra heightened sense told him there were people lying in the refuse and he could certainly smell them. Most of the furniture had rotted in place and added a mildew aroma that overlaid everything else.

The people were mostly homeless people from their smell and their dress. Drugged up they seemed more like dead people and this building was a scene straight out of a massacre.

Misha crouched next to one and tilted the face up. He was getting the hang of this as this place was the third place Degu had sent him to. The man was too old and had a scraggly beard. He had mistaken him for Jacob because he was so emaciated. He left him and gingerly stepped amongst the others.

A man stumbled in front of him. He was barely on his feet. Marginally better dressed than the others Misha had seen in the house so far. "Hey, man."

Misha didn't reply. If this was the guy running the place, he would only try to sell him drugs and if he was just one of the participants, he wouldn't be able to make any coherent conversation. The guy reached out for him.

"Hey, I was talking to you, man."

Misha knew he would have to have a very long hot shower after wading through the mire of the drug houses as his skin crawled with the touch of the man.

Misha turned his eyes to him. He was angered by what he saw. Didn't the gangs care they destroyed lives merely for profit? This was the curse of the world before climate change. Companies not caring what they did to the world or to people, merely for money. Look what happened under that business model?

Misha wiped off the man's hand and walked away as the addict yelled abuse at him.

Misha was careful on the stairs as some of them had rotted through. He understood the city was slowly getting rid of places like this, but they couldn't work fast enough.

He found Jacob on the third floor. Someone must have looked after him as he lay on a dirty mattress with a couple of bottles of water next to him. There was no one there now though. He was alone in a fairly complete room and there was a little bit of light struggling to come through a dirty window. At least there was still glass so the room wasn't cold like most of the house.

Misha crouched down and touched his fingers to the boy's throat. A thready pulse, so he was still alive. His skin, though, was cold and clammy. He shifted him into his arms and carried him down the stairs.

The addict's noise had called the proprietor. Not that you could tell the difference between the two men. The slimy bastard eased over to him.

"You can't take him. We look after our clients here."

Misha ignored him and headed for the door. Anger burned inside him. How could they call this looking after anyone? When the man tried to stop him, Misha elbowed him in the face. Walking away Misha ignored the whimpers of pain.
Chapter Seven

Freedom: January, 2055

The Professor found Dave working on his sand runner in the shed they had put it in months ago. Leaning against the doorway she watched him for a long time. When he looked up and smiled, she returned the gesture.

She asked, "How is it looking?"

He said, "A little neglected. I thought I would put sleds on it so we can use it in the cold season. Maybe go look at the scenery."

She said, "Oh, I see. A wind drawn sleigh."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I thought we could take a picnic."

"And a lot of blankets. It is well below freezing out there still."

He said, "Maybe next month. It's going to take me that long to figure out how to convert this."

She came up to him and lightly placed her hand on his shoulder. "You can do anything you put your mind to, Dave. If you want to make this fly across the snow, then I know you can."

He brushed it off. They were silent, for a time, then she asked, "Are you going to come in for dinner? The Harold family should be here any moment."

He hesitated, then dusted himself off and stood up. "Sure, I'll come in now."

She watched him carefully for a while. "You don't like the Harold's?"

He said, "That kid just looks at me funny all the time. Like he has steel in his eyes or something. I think he honestly hates me."

She laughed and put her arm around his waist. "I think he is jealous. You see, I think he has a crush on me."

Dave snorted at the idea and followed her back into the lab and into the kitchen where she had already mostly finished preparing dinner. She finished the salad and asked casually, "Were you in the lab today?"

He made a non-committal sound and helped put the plates on the table. She stopped and glanced at him. "Some things were moved and I'm sure I didn't move them."

He said, "I've been out in the shed. Are you sure it wasn't that boy who always follows behind you?"

She frowned down at the salad.

Panacea: July, 2086

Natasha brought a glass of water to the small queue of people waiting to be tested to see if they were able to get the healing glyph. Misha was still out dealing with Ari's brother. He had returned shortly for a shower and some food. Then he had gone to the hospital and she wasn't sure when he would be back. She had stalled as much as she could with the ill people here to possibly get a glyph. She had no idea though how to use the machine that could check auras even if she knew what she was looking at.

She looked up when Hal pushed aside the curtain. Hal glared at all of them and went up to the first one waiting in the queue, a woman in her last years. She seemed more like a dried out old twig than a human being. Natasha hoped she was half as vigorous as that woman when she was her age. She had pushed aside any assistance from the two men that came to support her.

Hal looked her over with a quick glimpse and nodded her head. "You'll do, you spry old chicken."

With that one phrase, Natasha knew there was going to be trouble. One of the reasons why Misha dealt with these people was because of Hal's honest and abrupt nature.

The woman smiled back at Hal and said, "I already have some Jasper with me. It was given to me when I was a little girl."

She pulled out a pendant that was strung from some waxed string. The waxed string matched its owner and had certainly seen better days. It was white with age and it flaked in places. It was clear the woman didn't wear the pendant, so using it for something like this, though sentimental, was no great sacrifice.

Natasha stepped forward and took the pendant and carefully recorded the woman's name and her contribution. Hal had already gone over the two children and passed quick judgments on them that they would do.

Natasha had noticed almost all the children were approved. She wondered if it was due to the resilience of children. She would have said Hal had a soft spot for children, except that she was honest. She wouldn't be surprised if she would hurt some kid's feelings by telling them they were screwed in their head, according to their aura if that really was the case.

The last was a man and it was clear he was in his last stages of his illness. He was crouched over like an old man though he didn't look older than thirty. He wore thick glasses and squinted at everything. He leaned heavily on a cheap aluminum cane that told Natasha he had visited a hospital.

Hal looked him up and down and said, "I'm sorry, I can't help you."

He reached out with surprisingly fast reflexes and grabbed Hal's tee-shirt. "Wait, look again. You don't understand, this is my last chance. The doctors have already done all they can for me. If you can't help me, I will be like this for the rest of my life."

Hal narrowed her eyes and Natasha put a hand on her arm. When she looked back at her, Natasha gave a quick shake of her head. The last thing they needed was Hal beating up a sick man. Hal sighed, then turned back to the man.

"You were told that there were no guarantees here?"

He agreed, desperation sparked in his eyes, magnified by his large glasses.

"Well, did they explain why?"

He shook his head, his mouth turning up in the middle with anger. Hal put her hand over his on her tee-shirt. "The reason the glyph won't work on you and, in fact, if I placed it on you would only speed up your illness, is that your sickness is caused by your EM field. If you want to get philosophical, I would even call it Karma."

Her voice was like a pebble in a still pond. "What have you done that you hate yourself so much?"

He yelled and threw himself at Hal. She merely sidestepped him and he collapsed on the floor. His face twisted up with his anger.

"You bastards. I couldn't help myself. I'm sick. Don't you understand? I'm SICK!"

Hal crouched down next to him and said, still in that soft voice, "You are sick. You delude yourself, but you still have a choice. There was no reason to touch them."

The two men that came with the older woman stepped next to the man. One nodded his head to Hal and then the two of them picked up the man and carried him out. The older woman stayed behind and said, "We'll make sure he can't hurt anyone. We know his kind. I'll be back on Thursday for my cure."

She motioned to Hal's cheek to indicate what she meant.

Hal nodded in thanks and the woman left while the children and mothers fled.

Natasha let out a breath she hadn't realised she kept in. "What illness did he have?"

Hal picked up some things that was knocked over by the man, "He had syphilis. Last stages. Eating away at his mind though I would say he lost that a long time ago."

Natasha hesitated, but curiosity won out. "What do you think he did to hurt people? Did you really see that in his aura?"

Hal said, "The aura can only tell me some things. No, I saw how he watched the kids."

Natasha was sick. She hadn't realised it was that bad. Hal hesitated at the curtain out of the room and looked over her shoulder.

"You're not like Misha. You don't see the dark the way he does."

Natasha said, "I lived with happy parents in a happy world, away from all of this."

Hal sounded sad as she said, "If only everyone could grow up like that."

___

Natasha cleaned the kitchen counter. Since she really was living here rent free, she cleaned and cooked when she was able. She had noticed Misha did the same. Maybe he wasn't as secure as she imagined him to be with Hal.

Hal stomped into the room with her heavy boots. "Come here."

Natasha looked up at Hal. She put the cloth away as she doubted she would be getting much work done if Hal had a project in mind for her.

"Go where?"

Natasha followed her though as Hal made her way out of the kitchen.

"You need a glyph."

"A glyph?"

"Come on Natasha, you're sounding like a parrot. I want to put a tattoo on you. Misha's out and I have an idea."

Natasha grinned at the surly nature of Misha's girlfriend.

"Oh, and what is this glyph going to do?"

Misha had explained his tattoos were something important. She thought he would have avoided tattoos as they were too much like the gangs.

"Sight. Well, I think it will help you see better, though the balance one didn't work how I thought it would so anything could happen."

Hal frowned as her mind wandered. Natasha wasn't going to say no to the tattoos. Misha said they were fantastic and he was never exuberant over anything. She followed Hal as she made her way to the tattoo chair and didn't bother to say anything.

Hal reminded Natasha of her aunt when she went on one of her art forays. She would spend days in a daze as her mind worked over all the details. She would start conversations only to forget halfway through what she was saying.

Natasha missed her. When she had the cardiac arrest, it had taken everyone by surprise. Misha was nineteen, but when his mother died, it was like he was a boy again. Even her father had come to the funeral even though he did not get on well with his brother's wife.

When they got to the parlor and she was told to take off her shirt Natasha was glad Misha was out. She didn't want to surprise him by how much she had changed over the years. The last time they had spent this much time together was when his father had died and Misha was sent to live with them for three months while his mother got on her feet to support the two of them.

Natasha lay on her stomach and rested her head on her arms. "Is this going to hurt?"

Her answer was straightforward and without hesitation.

"Probably. This is going up the spine and pretty close to the bone so, probably."

Natasha had to chuckle. "You aren't very good at lying."

"I wasn't lying. This is probably going to hurt. Besides, why would I lie? You are about to find out soon enough that it's going to hurt," she brought her face closer to hers, "are you going to bail?"

"No. Call me curious."

"Well, Curious here we go."

It didn't hurt as much as she expected. Also, she found Hal was easy to talk to, while her mind was busy on something else.

"So, Hal why are you so grumpy with people?"

"Mmmm, why bother?" Hal's voice was distracted as she worked.

"Because then they might be your friend."

"Argh, I've tried that. By the time I was in high school, I was already correcting books written by professors. Not that my parents cared. They just thought I was an antisocial idiot. They kept buying me girly things." Natasha winced, but it wasn't from the needle.

"That was after the war. Probably the first time they could get you something nice."

"I would have preferred combat boots to the fairy princess crap they got me. I think the best thing they did was leave when I was fourteen. I got this place and I think I've been my happiest here."

The straightforward way she said it meant she didn't expect any sympathy. Natasha was amazed though that she was mature enough to live on her own at fourteen. Natasha turned her head away because she didn't want Hal to see the sheen of tears in her eyes.

Natasha missed her mother, but one thing she could say about both her parents was they loved her and even partly understood her. She could not imagine growing up with strangers even if they were blood.

___

Degu found Misha at the hospital. He leaned against the door and looked in at the boy.

"Is he going to live?"

Degu whispered as the hospital was in one of those quiet moments, where all you could hear was the beeps of the machines.

"Probably, but the doctors say he has a good chance of brain damage."

Misha turned to look at Degu who was dressed as he usually was. It was strange to remember him from the photo at the Enforcer's building.

"Thanks for the help."

"Not sure whether it was helping. There is no cure for Ambrosia. You can't just detox or something."

Misha stared at him, then back at the still form of Jacob, who seemed so small in the hospital bed.

"Halcyon says Ambrosia is Marcus' baby."

Degu confirmed it with a short nod of his head. "I heard you had some trouble with him. I'm surprised he hasn't made another move against you guys."

Misha had thought the same until he had asked Halcyon about it.

"He lives in some nice building and we happen to know the owners. They threatened to kick him out and he would have to live with roaches in the sewers. They did throw out some of his muscle just to prove they could do it. If he makes a move, it will be massive. He'll bide his time."

Degu shifted nervously on his feet.

"The Enforcers have looked very closely at Marcus. His drug came out of nowhere. It looks like he got hold of one of your girlfriend's gadgets and used it to combine three of the most dangerous street drugs out there. The problem is once you try it you can't stop. Literally. You'll die. It replaces something essential in the brain. The scientists have no idea how to reverse the effects."

He nodded towards the boy in the bed. "He's one of the lucky ones. You see, your girlfriend's gadget has allowed the Enforcers to make their own Ambrosia. They'll put the boy and others into rehab and give them the minimum. Put them through trials and see what parts of the drug they can take out and stuff."

"Her name is Halcyon."

Degu gave him a look of disbelief and said gently, "You're in love."

Misha stood up away from the doorway. "Thanks anyway, Degu."

There was a long pause. "No one knows."

Misha frowned, confused at the quick change in subject. "Knows what?"

Degu rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Who I am."

Misha smiled as he finally understood what he talked about. "Did you think we would tell?"

Degu shrugged and kicked the ground with his shoes. Misha wondered if he would look younger if he bowed his head like the shy kid he was acting. "I thought you might let it slip at least. I can trust you, can't I?"

"What you are doing Degu is very dangerous, but nah, we won't rat you out."

He turned to leave, then decided to give Degu something.

"She says if you want a tat you'd have to give up the double life. It messes with your aura."

Degu said, "Who gives a rat about auras?"

Misha lightly touched one of the tattoos that ran down his arm. It was meant for balance, but so far it hadn't shown up as he had expected. Instead, he was calmer. Surer of what was inside him. He grinned at Degu. "You'd be surprised."

Once he was gone Misha found a seat in the waiting room. He wasn't there long when Halcyon arrived. She had a plastic container in a bag and passed it to him. She sat down with a sigh.

He studied the bag and she said, "They always have terrible food here. I think more people die from the food than illnesses."

She would know about hospital food.

He peeked inside the bag and asked, "What is it?"

She said, "How the heck should I know. Chin Sun made it."

Misha frowned, confused. "Chin Sun?"

"Mmm, Kim Si's wife. She's nice and she's like you. She likes to feed people. Is that how you guys show love?"

He smiled at her. "One of the ways."

He placed the food on the coffee table that was in front of him and put his arm around her.

Halcyon sighed and he said, "Thank you for coming."

She wrinkled her nose. "I didn't come for you. I needed to get away. There was a whole line of people who needed to be checked over for their EMF's and you weren't there to deal with them."

He went still. "Was it bad?"

"Some old lady helped out. It was fine. Just— I need you back."

Misha kissed her temple. "Jacob is in a coma. His family is a little bit fragile at the moment. I just wanted to be around if something went wrong and they needed help."

Halcyon was silent for a long time and asked, "Does that make things easier? I mean having someone there when things go bad?"

"I've found it does. Though to be honest, there isn't much I can do. They know it and so do I. It's just that we can comfort each other."

___

Natasha sat still for a long time. The world seemed, well more real than she had ever seen it. Hal was at her workshop already and asked, "So?"

"Did you ask Misha these kinds of questions?"

"Yes, and he wasn't so squeamish answering. You are my experiment and I can't judge the results if you won't explain what you are feeling. Just suck it up."

Hal tapped her data pad impatiently. Natasha sighed and ran a hand over her face and tried to organize her thoughts.

"It isn't that I'm squeamish, it is just — and well, I don't know how to answer. The world just looks different. How or why it is different, I'm not sure. It even feels different when I close my eyes."

Hal tapped away, obviously making some conclusions from her vague answer.

"Anything extra? I mean like colours and stuff." Colours she could talk about. Every color around her was more vibrant and textured than she had ever seen. She wanted to reach out and touch things to make sure they really felt like they appeared.

"Yeah, a little. It is almost like there is coloured smoke around everything."

Natasha must have said something that intrigued the little genius as Hal spun around in her chair. "Around everything?"

She waved her hand through the little curls of smoke and they followed for a time before going back to wisp around the object. "Yeah, but they are different around you and that thing you are making."

Hal grinned like a cat in the cream. "Those are EM fields you are seeing. You'll get used to them. I knew there had to be a natural way for us to see them. I have bioware behind my eyes that allow me to see what you are seeing naturally."

Hal tapped the curved monstrosity that was in pieces on her worktable. "The reason this gadget is different is that I've made it alive." Hal glared at it for a while. "Well, in an artificial sense. When I manipulate inanimate objects, I artificially create an EM Field that you would see around humans or even animals. Not that there are many animals around."

Most animals had died during the climate change. Cats and dogs were pretty much it and you had to be rich to get a license to own one of those. Natasha knew of people who had goldfish though. Apparently, they had survived because they were terrible to eat and even starving people couldn't pallet them. Birds as pets were more common and chickens were everywhere. Even Hal had a few in a large cage next to the hydroponics.

Hal grinned at her; her hands peaked together like that old guy from the Simpsons show. "You any good at inking?"

Natasha shrugged, wondering why the conversation had gone down this path. "I can spot weld like a surgeon. Does that count?"

Hal turned into the Cheshire cat and patted Natasha's shoulder. "I can work with that. I can certainly work with that."

___

Misha had worried when Ari wasn't at the Center for class. By the time he finished up, the boy lurked at the edges of the large workout room that was the hub of the Center. Misha didn't want to spook him so he went to the water fountain. Ari slinked up and said softly, "Thank you."

Misha stared at the boy. He appeared older. It was hard to see someone so young who had to act a decade older.

"It was nothing. I hope you can always come to me with stuff like that."

Ari bowed his head, his hands deep in his pockets and his feet shifting from side to side. He was too shy now to thank him in public. He ruffled the boy's hair to try to encourage him.

"Your battle isn't over."

Ari shook his head and glanced up long enough for him to see the steel in the boy's spine.

"The doctors say if he comes out of the coma, he will be all right, but the drugs — Well, they said there were some breakthroughs and he should be all right, but it's going to take a long time."

Misha could see the fear and sadness in the tense shoulders of the boy. "You stick by your mom. She will need you. Heroes don't run away."

There was a tremor in the boy's voice as he said, "I'm not a hero."

Misha wanted to say something to him to make him aware he was stronger than many adults.

Before he could think of anything Ari said, "She kicked out that loser boyfriend of hers. Said she didn't want anyone that was on drugs in her home no more."

"That's good."

The boy shrugged. Misha placed his hand on his shoulder. "Ari, it wasn't your fault Jacob got into the drugs. He understood what it meant. It was his choice."

Tears sparkled in Ari's eyes. "I dared him to, Misha. I said if he was so brave and strong — It's all my fault."

"If I told you to light yourself on fire to be a man, would you?"

Ari shook his head, but Misha knew no matter what he said it wouldn't get through. Feelings didn't have rationality. Misha sighed. "Hang in there, Ari. I swear it gets better over time."

"I hope it does because I feel like crap now."

___

"Misha?"

He looked up from the kitchen sink where he leaned for a very long time. Halcyon was in her usual white t-shirt and blue overalls. He finished pouring himself a glass of water. He put it down on the counter though, and instead asked, "Where is Natasha?"

"Asleep. I gave her a glyph and she is taking a while to get used to it."

Halcyon came up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He bent his head and just held her. It was the first time she had instigated touch between them first.

She said after a long time, "I like Natasha."

He smiled, warm inside after a long time in the cold. "Making friends, are you?"

"I don't have friends."

He could feel her shrug in his arms.

"I think you do, sweetheart. They are the ones that put up with your abysmal manners."

Misha was glad he could turn his mind away from that day. Tears blurred his vision for a second. She hadn't asked how his day was because she knew. She understood he just needed someone to hold him. The silly conversation was merely a distraction.

"Why should I have manners? It is just a waste of time."

Halcyon still stood there with her arms around him. Wasting her time with him. He breathed her in and enjoyed the warmth that spread from her to him.

After a long time, she asked, "How are the boys?"

"Both of them are a long way from being all right. Jacob is going to be in hospitals for the rest of his life and Ari blames himself for his brother's idiotic choices. So, no happy endings there."

She wriggled in his arms, but not to escape, rather to get more comfortable.

"There are never any happy endings when you throw greed and drugs together."

Misha smoothed a hand through her hair.

After a long time, she said, "When Marcus had his goons attack—"

He smiled because he was thinking of the same thing.

"You are asking about the kiss?"

She settled in his arms. "Yeah."

"Did you like it?"

Misha hoped she had because it was a rushed affair as he had seriously thought Marcus would kill one of them that night and he couldn't let that happen without first finding out if there was something between them. He had unleashed the Kraken that night and it was a struggle to wait until she was comfortable to bring it up.

"I've never been kissed before."

He relished figuring out where her mind wandered and figuring out what she meant when she used a statement like that.

"Different then, but enjoyable?" Misha asked.

"Well, I thought I could do some experiments and see if you change any of the variables if the experience changes."

He rubbed his cheek over her hair. "Let's go to the couch and see if we can change those variables."

She had certainly helped him forget the horrible day he had, had.

Chapter Eight

Freedom: January, 2055

The wind howled as Dave struggled with his sand runner. He finally pushed it through the large gate made in the side of the membrane. He looked up stunned when she said, "I'd hoped it wouldn't be like this."

The Professor was dressed in all her winter gear so was warm. She'd waited here a while as Dave prepared to leave. He must have thought she would sleep the night through from the amount of alcohol the two of them had consumed. Except she had expected something like this and knew what the wine bottle had meant over dinner. Especially when there was no special occasion to celebrate.

Dave came over to her and said, "I'm sorry, Professor. It is just — well the world really does need your weather plant," he gestured to the dome over them, "I know you. You'd just sit here with it and you wouldn't do anything."

Tears blurred her vision. "You are wrong, Dave. Wrong about me, just as wrong as I was about you. You were just going to sell it. How much did you take?"

"Just the one sample. The one you left in the lab."

She had known he was going to steal it when she had noticed it was moved the other day. It was a slightly different strain that she had monitored to see how it dealt with less light compared to the others.

She reached out her hand. "Give it."

He hesitated, but he brought out the sample and put it in her hand. She knew he also had a digital copy of all her notes, but she would let him have that.

He asked, "What is going to happen now?"

"I think you should leave. Just go Dave. You aren't suited for Freedom and I'm not suited for your world."

He hesitated. "I really did care for you, you know."

She doubted that, but appreciated that he tried to minimize the hurt.

She turned away. "Just go."

She heard him jump in his runner and she closed the gate behind him.

Panacea: August, 2086

They saw someone approach the courtyard from the street. Misha climbed down the ladder to stand next to Hal. They were putting in improvements to the warehouse security while they could.

Hal frowned at the person and said, "Kim Si?"

Misha came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. She reached up and covered his hand for a short while. A brief acknowledgment that he was there if she needed him.

"You look like crap, Kim Si."

His usual neat appearance was just a little bit off. His shirt was untucked on one side and his hair was starting to get fly-aways. He was never like this. He patted his hair self-consciously. His voice sounded like he had been screaming and it was hoarse.

"Chin Sun is in the hospital."

Hal gasped and went up to him and took his hand. He shook. His voice cracked as he spoke.

"She was mugged. She didn't see who it was, just some young boys. Teenagers maybe."

"Do you think it was something other than a mugging?"

"I'm not sure. It was in one of Marcus' neighborhoods so it could be him, but none of them sounded like his usual goons," his voice firmed as he managed to steady himself. He didn't show much emotion usually, so he must be overwhelmed to be as shaky as he was.

Misha brought Kim Si a glass of water from inside.

"Maybe it was young boys wanting to impress Marcus. That way he can keep his hands clean."

"Maybe."

Kim Si didn't sound very sure. There was a tense silence, then Hal broke it by saying determinedly.

"We will be careful."

Kim Si nodded his head. "We all will be."

He passed back the empty glass and left without his usual surly quip. He was really rattled by his wife's attack. Hal hesitated over something and Misha asked, "What?"

"Do you think I should tell people about the strength glyph?"

He said, "We still don't know what it will do over time."

She sighed. There was a reason why she used Misha as her guinea pig. If she was going to give these glyphs away wholesale, she would first make sure they were safe.

She nodded firmly. "Once I have finished running tests. Then, then I will see if there is anyone that needs it."

He leaned down and briefly kissed her. "Just imagine if Marcus found out about them? He would terrorize people with strength like this."

She huffed. "They wouldn't work on him. You were the first I found who could deal with it."

He grinned and asked, "Is it because of my calm?"

"Don't joke about it, Misha. Not many people are like you."

He kissed her again and said, "Don't mind me, I'm just fishing for compliments."

She frowned at him. "You think me telling you, you have a calm EM field is a compliment?"

He had to laugh at that. "Your version of them, anyway."

"You are mad, Misha." And she loved that about him.

___

Hal plopped on the couch next to Misha. He was drinking something and watching something on the large screen though it was gathering dust because she hardly used it. She squinted at the screen and realised she was wrong. It was clean. Actually, there were a lot of things cleaner, now that she looked around.

"Where is Natasha?"

"She's making dinner. Do you feel like Thai tonight?"

Hal shrugged. As long as she didn't have to cook it, she would eat it.

"Do you really think it was Marcus who sent those muggers?"

Misha pulled her closer and rubbed his cheek on her hair.

"Yeah. Just seeing how far Kim Si and his people will go to protect us."

That thought chilled her. Marcus as cautious was different to what she was used to and threw out her extrapolations on what he was likely to do. "You don't think they can?"

"I never thought they could. Marcus is ruthless and heartless. The landowners merely challenged him and he knew he would find a way around them, eventually. He could afford to wait."

Hal sighed and tucked her hands up so they were between her and him. She turned and rubbed her nose against his chest. She closed her eyes and took in his scent.

She mumbled, "You smell nice."

She could hear his amusement in his voice as he said, "I try."

She pulled away and smacked him. He just grinned at her. He reached out and tugged a bit of her hair.

"I like how you smell too, Halcyon."

"You know you are the only one that calls me that. Why won't you call me Hal?"

He wrinkled his nose at her nickname. "Hal is a boy's name."

She said, "Are you afraid someone will think you are gay if you have a girlfriend called Hal?"

"There are many things I am afraid of, but that isn't one of them."

She said, "You aren't afraid of anything my calm Zen master."

His fingers gently caressed her cheek and neck. "I'm just a man, Halcyon, and we are afraid of a lot of things."

"Yeah? Name one."

He bent down and kissed her. "Of making our girlfriends angry."

"You afraid of me, teddy bear?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm more afraid to run away and never have you in my arms again."

"My hero."

She drawled with a fake southern accent; he kissed her again and she forgot what they were talking about, anyway. They both groaned with disappointment when the buzzer went on the gate.

Natasha called out, "Can one of you get that, please?"

Misha leaned his head against hers for a second before he went to see who it was. He came back shortly, towing behind him Harold.

Hal grinned and called out, "Harold. Take a seat, are you going to stay for dinner, Natasha is cooking?" She flapped her hand to indicate one of the free couches.

Natasha called from the kitchen, "Tomorrow is your turn."

"You are dreaming, sister. You are my slave and will cook and clean for me the rest of your life."

Harold frowned and Hal turned back to him. "So what brings you our way, Enforcer Harold?"

He tucked his hands into his pockets. "There has been a rise in violence in your neighborhood."

She grinned at him as she enjoyed teasing him. "I swear it wasn't us this time. We keep our crime fighting strictly to weekends and stop muggings only on Thursday nights."

He said, "We've managed to take down several drug houses and labs. We believe the violence is retaliation for this. The victims are what concern me."

Misha sat down and Harold did as well. Maybe he was waiting for Misha to sit. The Enforcer seemed very uncomfortable on the couch that sagged under him.

"He has been targeting sick people. Well, former sick people," they all frowned at that, "and strangely enough all these people seem to have a faint pink tattoo on their cheeks."

Misha swore. She visibly shook though she wasn't sure if it was fear or anger. Emotions were always tricky things to pin down. Her voice, when she spoke, had lost all the amusement of before.

"Thank you, Harold, for telling us. We'll deal with this."

Harold reached out and touched her arm in a surprisingly intimate gesture for the brusque man.

"I'm only telling you, so you'll be careful."

Hal said, "You once told me that the gangs could easily disrupt the city."

Harold said, "There are three million people in this city. We have less than a thousand Enforcers though we have double that of police who deal with smaller issues."

Harold continued, "If you did something it could be merely adding fuel to the fire rather than stopping this Marcus fellow."

Hal hesitated. He was right. She looked past him to Misha. He appeared worried and that worried her.

"Fine, tell me what the best thing to do is. Not some nonsense of letting you fix everything."

He said, "There isn't enough of us to fix this problem, even if we wanted to and we have pressure from the leaders of the city to focus on more political crimes. They do not see the danger of the gangs as it is not an aspect that touches on their lives. Miss Smith, you need to protect yourself instead of fighting Marcus the same way he fights. He has his gang and he uses them to maintain his income.

"He sees himself as a businessman, not as a gangster. There are certain rules in his business. If you want to take over a trade, you sabotage your competition and you gain some kind of assistance to take advantage of the situation. He will understand this kind of fighting and retaliate in kind. At the moment, he sees you as weak and that you surround yourself with weak people, mainly because you have not used your advantage so far. You need to make sure all your people are safe."

"Okay, so if I consolidated and re-enforced my position and made my people able to fight back, you think he might back off."

"Yes, because it will maintain the balance."

She stared at Misha and he said, "Run the final tests tomorrow. I'll talk to Henry at the Center. Not all of our people will need to be marked."

She agreed. She didn't want this. She just wanted to be left alone to invent her things. She didn't want to have people or responsibilities.

Pointing a finger at Misha she said, "You deal with the people."

Misha broke the tension by laughing. She turned back to Harold and said, "You are first."

He seemed astonished for the first time since she had met him. Misha got up. "After dinner and include the senses, that will help him at work."

Hal agreed and she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

___

People threw things into the tray in front of Natasha. She sorted from there. Semi-precious stones into one container and electronic components and such into another. A lot had dust and things on them. Probably useless in the state they were in now.

Understanding enough to know she could get gold and other components from them and with that really cool 3D printer, Hal hid in a corner, Natasha could make almost anything.

Natasha was also in charge of making sure the right people got through. She could see the ones who were really not suited, but there were others like Misha. She understood now what Hal saw in him he was like one of those reflection pools. Placid and calm, but with great depth.

Something flickered in the corner of her eye and she glanced aside only to see that nothing was there. Her heart skipped for a beat. That happened more often and she wondered if her own glyph was going to be the one that had side-effects.

One of the young men, who had come to try for a strength tattoo, smiled at her and leaned over the table she worked behind.

"Aren't you a breath of fresh air? New to the city?"

Natasha blinked and realised he was flirting. She blushed. "Ah, are you here for the glyph?"

He waved to where Hal was working with a rig that copied her movements, so she could work on several people at the same time.

"You mean that tattoo? Do you have one?"

He looked significantly at her cheek. Hal was busy and Natasha was healthy so she hadn't asked for the healing glyph yet though that was one she did want. It also meant she was a little safer as the only tattoo she had on at the moment was on her lower back that allowed her to see people's auras. She could avoid the bad guys with the sight and also stay hidden. Unless they saw her here today. It was a risk she was willing to take.

Henry, on the door, turned away anyone he recognised was associated, even slightly, with any of the gangs. That most of the people in the line were women and young boys didn't surprise her.

Natasha studied the young man. He was fine for his aura to get the glyph so she waved him on. He hesitated and she realised he wanted to talk to her more. The woman behind him laughed and shoved him so he would move. He huffed and threw a single earring made of turquoise into the tray.

She touched it. Fake, but she didn't tell him. It was merely plaster that was painted to look like turquoise. Hal had told her not to turn anyone away because of fakes. Just to make sure they weren't put in with the others because plaster in the inks made life difficult.

Natasha was shocked to recognise the boy who stood next to the woman. He was one of Misha's students who had come by the warehouse a few times. She smiled at the boy and stared at the woman. There was a slight flicker of pink that reached out for the boy. Hal was teaching her how to read everything she was now seeing. The flicker was a worry, but it was pink and moving towards the boy which made her smile at the woman. Pink meant love.

"What are you contributing today?"

The woman dug something out of her pocket while she spoke, "My father collected stones and when he was fighting, he would pick up all sorts. I don't know what they are called, but you guys can have them all."

"One would be fine."

The sentimental value of those stones was more than any monetary value.

She shook her head and dropped a bag of stones the size of a fist into the tray.

"What Misha does, did for my boys—" She trembled. "No, he can have it all."

Ari seemed determined and asked, "Can I have one as well."

The boy's aura was red and yellow and full of turbulence. There was something he was trying to work through between logic and emotion. He would eventually be able to sort it out, but at the moment, he was in no position to have a glyph.

She touched his chest and he said, "Yeah, I figured."

Hal had also explained that people knew they weren't at a point where they could have the glyphs. The woman seemed worried. She placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. He shook his head.

"I will be alright, mum. It is just—"

She frowned and breathed out softly. "I know."

She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. She nodded to Natasha and went to wait with the others.

Hal couldn't do a full tat on everyone, but she had taken the idea from her machines. Micro glyphs. She set up a triad of smaller glyphs and they seemed to work almost as good as the larger one.

Natasha was thinking of getting that done for the healing glyph. So, she might not be able to spit out bullets like Hal could, but she would be healthy.

A flicker right next to her made her jump. For a while there she swore, she had seen a man lying on the floor bleeding to death. She swore softly in Russian and went back to work. She wasn't going to get used to those visions any time soon. That was if they were real or not.

___

Hal lounged against Natasha on the chairs they had set out for the people to wait on. He was pleased the two of them were friends. Natasha was isolated on the water farm he didn't think she knew how to make friends. Hal, on the other hand just didn't want to make friends with idiots. He smiled at that thought.

Henry came up beside him. When he stared at him, he saw he was looking at the two girls as well.

"You have a good life at the moment, Misha."

He said, "Family and a beautiful woman."

"Maybe not with that blue hair."

They both chuckled though he didn't admit to Henry he liked the hair. Especially since he realised, it was short because she had kept it short after the Chemo. He thought the blue had to do with that as well. Maybe it hadn't grown out the same color or something. Halcyon was more sensitive than people thought, so he didn't ask about it.

"Do you think we got enough people?"

Misha nodded. Both of them knew the people who came that evening and he had recognised that they came from all over the neighborhood. Marcus was soon going to find it hard to do business when little old ladies and boys managed to take on his corner boys.

Misha thought it was the peer pressure that was going to work better. Marcus and the other gangs had direct competition, now for the cool factor, with the younger kids. They all knew that to join up with Marcus now would mean a change in their aura and a loss of their power.

It was why he liked to teach the flashy Tae Kwon Do. A little was enough to make your point. Misha was hoping Marcus got the point as well with only a little show of strength on their side. He wasn't so sure the State Enforcer was right. Marcus already saw them as competition. Now they had their own little army.

At least Henry and he understood what they were really doing today. That was why it was mostly women and the young who had come through. If they could save any of these women from being beaten up or abused was a bonus worth the effort of the day.

The boys were the same. They were the protectors of sisters and mothers and needed an upper hand they could achieve. Henry patted him on the shoulder and went to clean.

Misha went to Halcyon and Natasha. Natasha held Halcyon so she didn't slip off the chair completely. Without a word he slipped his hands under Halcyon and cradled her against his chest. His cousin picked up their gear and the box of things they had gotten from the people. Silently they walked home. Henry was right. It was good to have family again.

Chapter Nine

New State: June, 2056

The classroom was empty except for a man in a faded coat. She cleared her throat to get his attention. "Excuse me. Are you Professor Nasser? Is this the College of Fairfield?"

The man looked up and squinted at her. "University. We don't use the word 'College'. That is a word associated with the oppressive and defunct nation that once pestered these shores. Who are you?"

She crossed the classroom and said nervously, "I'm Pro — sorry my name is Elisha Green."

It felt strange to use her name after so long.

He frowned at her and asked, "Do I know you? The name sounds familiar."

She shifted nervously. "I used to work for that defunct nation you just mentioned."

He swore softly. "You're the butcher of Colorado."

She blushed. It hadn't been her alone, but it was the virus she had made that had swept through the people of Colorado and wiped out over half of them. When she had confronted her superiors on why they would release such a dangerous virus, especially after she had told them how dangerous it was. They had said there were always casualties in war. She had realised then she was sick of war and she had left for Freedom.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and said, "I have something to show you Professor. I think you'll be very fascinated in what I have to show you."

He said, "I'm a botanist, not a virologist."

She shook her head and placed one of her small domes she had made for this trip. It was the size of a cake tin and she placed it on the table.

"It's a biodome for people to live under."

He dug out some glasses from a pocket and leaned in closer. "Is this plant matter?"

She said, "We found it in an aquifer. It's capable of resisting any kind of weather."

He looked up at that. "It's alive and it can survive winter."

She nodded again. "And a desert climate as well. You do have to feed it water and power to grow it, but once it is matured, it creates its own power from the sun and wind. And it absorbs moisture from the atmosphere regardless of whether there is rain or not. It has been successfully used to make a dome that has its own atmospheric conditions separate from outside."

He breathed out in awe. "Stunning. How big can it get?"

She said, "I'm not sure. The biggest one I've created is over a kilometer in diameter."

He gazed up at her and grinned.

She asked, "What?"

"The sign of a true scientist. You used kilometer and not mile."

She shrugged a little self-conscious.

"So what do you think?" She brought him back to the biodome though she had a tint of pink to her cheeks. She wasn't immune to the flirting.

"I think with some experimentation; we can change the world."

She smiled. She knew she had come to the right place. Nasser had a reputation of honesty and principles.

Panacea: August, 2086

Hal turned and cuddled into the body next to her. She went still when she didn't remember going to bed with anyone. She opened one eye carefully. She could make out Misha's bulk. She should have realised it was him, anyway.

She settled her cheek on his chest and listened to him breathe for a very long time.

She said into the silence, "My parents were very flighty."

She knew he was awake as his hand softly caressed her hair. After another long silence, he asked, "Is that why you say you like my calm?"

She rubbed her cheek and let the heat from him seep into her bones and made a soft non-committal sound. She was almost asleep again when he said, "What if I had demands?"

"What kind of demands?"

His hand slid over her body.

She looked up at him and said, "I've never before—"

He still didn't pressure her to more and simple answered. "I know. I just haven't figured out whether it is because you are so prickly to people or because you weren't curious."

She smiled as she sat up. "Ah, my touted master of understanding people you have me wrong."

His voice was slumberous and sexy as hell. "Oh, how did I get it wrong?"

"I was curious, but I also have some pride. I didn't need a man to stroke my ego and I'm sorry to dent your ego, but I am a complete person without you."

She wasn't so sure of that anymore. Her heart picked up speed. She had told others this line of not needing them to be whole and every other time she had said it she had meant it wholeheartedly.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I've never found anyone worthy enough before."

He chuckled, clearly his ego had taken no hit at all.

"Am I?"

She let out a breath. "Yes. Besides, when I realized I wanted someone worthy of me, I knew I would have to love them and they would have to love me."

He wrapped his arms around her. Despite talking about having sex while in bed she wasn't ready and Misha picked up her signals. No one else did that. "Does that mean you love me, sweetheart?" He asked without any hurry.

"I would have thrown you out weeks ago if I didn't."

Hal teased without even a slight twinge of worry he would take her seriously. People so often took her words the wrong way.

Misha laughed and she could hear the amusement in his voice when he spoke next.

"How sure are you that I love you?"

She ran her hands over his collarbone and over his shoulders. His large hands held her gently. He didn't move further, instead he waited for her answer. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft.

"I can see it, Misha. In your aura, I mean."

He brought one hand up to her face and cupped her head. Caressing her temple with his thumb, his fingers in her hair. His voice was serious now as he asked.

"Do you want the words?"

She huffed out a chuckle. "Yes, but I want them to be right, at the right time."

He kissed her and moved his hand to shift her body. They kissed for a long time. Misha didn't seem to be rushed at all. It was that Zen calm again. She smiled against his lips and he pulled back. He smoothed her hair away from her face. She could tell his hands shook.

She smiled as she figured out why he was shaking and it had nothing to do with what she had done. Her chest ached with emotion. Not a single thought of math or information marred the moment. She settled in against his chest and let sleep take her.

___

Misha listened to the shower. He wondered if he should join Halcyon. Instead, he lay back for a while on the bed. She wasn't ready for him to join him and he had to be honest with himself, neither was he.

He thought back over the night before. He wasn't sure why he had crawled into bed next to her after he had put her to bed. She was exhausted from putting dozens of tattoos onto people. He realised she wasn't up for anything more and even though they had spent some time kissing and he was confident enough to actually call her his girlfriend in front of others; they had not discussed taking things any further. He wasn't the kind of man who assumed because they regularly kissed that she was comfortable with going further.

He had been a very awkward teenager. His father had died when he was sixteen and his mother though he loved her wasn't up to replacing that hole in his life his father's death had left with him. He had sought it with his girlfriend at the time, Sandra. She was young as well. Her father beat her and her sisters all the time. He would get drunk and forget his strength and feel sorry the next day, only confusing his kids' emotions over the whole thing.

Sandra had always been daring and alive and that had attracted him in his sorrow. The problem was they were both broken. Sandra had pushed him to do things he wasn't ready for. He only realised that later. He chalked it up to the dumb things people did when grieving.

When he had told Sandra, he wasn't ready and he wanted to stop what they were doing in the bedroom; she had gotten angry with him.

So, he hadn't pushed Halcyon as they had danced the tension-filled and enjoyable dance of dating. She might be older and surer of herself, but she couldn't know what it all entailed. Though, part of it was that he had enjoyed the friction the dance had provided.

The shower stopped and Halcyon came into the room with only a towel and a cloud of steam. She ran a hand through her hair and shook it out. Leaving her now dark blue hair shaggy like a wet dog.

She was humming to herself. He grinned. She didn't hum. Not even when she was doing something she enjoyed. He turned on his side and rested his head on his hand. She was even dancing as she picked out a clean t-shirt from the drawer.

Halcyon stopped when she turned and saw that he watched her. She went nervous then and even blushed. He laughed softly at the blush.

"I take it you liked last night. I know we haven't spoken about this—"

She came to sit on the edge of the bed. He was tempted to tug off her towel, but he also wanted to talk. Halcyon tapped her head.

"It never sleeps, you know. My head is always filled with something. A new invention or an equation that I either have to solve or find an equation to solve a problem. But it is never quiet in my head. My parents thought I was a psychopath because they said I didn't show any emotion. After the war, they took me to see doctors, they were so worried I wasn't normal. I was five and the doctors said the only thing wrong with me was my brain wouldn't shut up. It pushed all my emotions out. If you saw my aura it is pretty much yellow. My soul is filled with logic."

Misha wasn't so sure of that.

She placed a hand on his chest. "When I'm with you, I can turn this off," she tapped her head again, "and I just feel. I told you last night I loved you and I mean it. It is so big and consuming it can even make me forget things and I never forget things. Well, names, but names of people really aren't that important."

He chuckled and tugged her closer so he could kiss her.

When they emerged from her bedroom Halcyon went shy. He put his arm around her shoulders and asked teasingly, "Are you worried what Natasha will think?"

She snorted at the ridiculousness of it and said, "You know she'll probably just tease me."

There was no probably about it.

"No more than she will tease me." He bent down and kissed her. "Head off to your workshop and I'll have a chat with her. If she's in the mood to tease, she can take it out on me."

Hal kissed him again, her fingers caressed his chest. She was a coward, so she ran and he only laughed.

Misha found Natasha in the kitchen making pancakes. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. When Natasha turned, she said, "Morning," Extremely cheerfully.

There was a grin on her face. He motioned to the pancakes and she chuckled.

"I thought we would celebrate."

"Do I want to know what we are celebrating?"

She ignored that and asked, "So, when is the wedding?"

"As soon as I can convince her."

Misha said in all seriousness.

That blew the wind out of Natasha's sails. She leaned back against the counter next to him. The flipper still in her hand, held limply by her side.

"That serious, eh?"

Natasha was really the only family he had. He could have moved out to the edge with his uncle, but he had stayed because he had felt a connection to the city and the neighborhood. He had thought that had been enough, but with Natasha here he realised he was missing something.

"Yeah? Does that bug you?"

"No, I like her, grouchy witch that she is. She at least has a sense of humour. Misha, are you sure?"

That was the one thing he was entirely sure of. He kissed her on the forehead in a familial gesture. "I know people, Natasha, and I know her."

It was also that Halcyon saw him. So, many stared at his brute muscles and thought he would be a good protector. Others saw his appearance and thought he was a prize. That was Lisa's problem. Not Halcyon. Strangely, she brought him peace.

___

Natasha knew she was dreaming as it had that dreamy quality where she jumped from place to place without knowing how she had moved there. She found herself in an alleyway. It was narrow and filled with refuse. The buildings on either side were old and made from brick instead of concrete and steel. There were very few of those kinds of buildings in the city and most of them were in the rough neighbourhoods.

Natasha was at the end of the alleyway. There were suspicious liquids on the ground and she was glad she couldn't smell anything in dreams. By her feet was a pile of boxes. They couldn't have been there long as boxes were collected in neighbourhoods like this to use as fire starters.

The city might have a Weather Shield, but winter was still pretty cold. Some of the rougher neighbourhoods had low power quotas and heating in winter would be difficult.

The boxes moved and she realised there was someone there. The dream changed and the body was revealed. The boxes were pushed aside and she didn't know how that had happened. The man lay on his front and she could see he was wearing vintage clothes of high quality.

Then the dream changed once again and he was turned over. She gasped and put a hand over her mouth. The man had been stabbed. As she watched, she saw the blood pump out as his heartbeat. She begged the dream to change, for something to be different.

As she watched, the spurts of blood were further and further apart. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She woke and she sat up in bed. Real tears on her cheeks.

Chapter Ten

Panacea: June, 2061

Elisha winced as she heard the fighting in the distance. The site manager didn't even flinch as he laid out the plans for the tower. "The men are working in three shifts. One on site and the others at the prefabrication site."

He glanced at her and smiled. "Nothing to worry about, Professor. We'll have this up and ready in no time."

She glanced out to the rest of the city and asked, "Aren't your men worried about the fighting."

He said, "We're used to it. In any case, it's almost over. The last of the gun runners and the bandits will be blasted out of that neighbourhood and the city will be ours."

She frowned. The city was a new entity risen out of the ashes. The city itself had been here for more than three hundred years, but in the last few decades it had only been a ghost town inhabited by the desperate and the greedy. But someone had built a water plant and now the city had water.

Water was the main thing she had needed. They could get power from generators, but without water the Weather Shield was impossible.

The foreman arrived and stuck his head inside the container that was an office. "Your husband is here. He says the plant material is here. He wants to know where it should go."

Elisha had traveled ahead to see to the start of the building. The materials and the work had all been donated by the people of the city. She only had to advertise what she needed and it had arrived the next day. Along with the manager and the foreman who told her they would make sure it was all done properly.

This wasn't the first city they had done this for, but probably the last for a while. She gingerly placed her hand on her stomach. The baby was only three months along and she had only realised she was pregnant halfway in her journey so her husband, the professor, didn't know yet.

Elisha left the container and ran into Nasser's arms as he stood next to the truck.

He kissed her and asked, "You all right?"

She nodded her head and said, "I have news for you."

He said, "Good news or bad news?"

Her smile softened. "Good news."

Panacea: September, 2086

Misha turned when Lisa said softly next to him.

"Misha can I talk to you privately?"

She appeared to be on the verge of tears so Misha looked around to see where they could go. The Center was filled with the usual characters. Before he found a place, she turned and walked to the back exit of the Center. He followed, concerned.

He hadn't seen Karl or his cousin, Anne, that day in the class. Those two hadn't missed a class since the young girl had started. She had a real fire for martial arts.

He followed Lisa out of the fire exit into the alley behind the Center.

"What was so important, Lisa, that we couldn't speak inside?"

She turned and stood shivering in the alley. There were tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so dang sorry. They have the kids. I couldn't — I'm just sorry."

Before he could ask what she meant, someone hit him with a Taser. They were hidden behind a dumpster. He hadn't heard them because they hadn't moved at all until the last moment. Someone had talked about his abilities.

Misha went down hard. The power jazzing everything in his system. Someone approached him and pressed something to his face and then all he knew was darkness.

___

Natasha cleaned some gears of a large clock that was once hidden in the machines in the courtyard. It probably was looted during the wars and left here when they realized no one would buy an old clock. Especially sans building.

Natasha was fascinated with the intricate gears and cogs. With whatever Hal had done to her sight she found she knew where things went as they seemed to remember where they were. Also, this kind of clock could be easily fixed with handmade manufactured pieces. Unlike larger commercial clocks that had mostly died in the extreme weather of climate change. They needed intricate computer parts which were almost impossible to get nowadays.

Hal plopped down next to her on the couch and placed a sandwich in front of her and another in front of herself. She had carried her datapad in her mouth and wiped it off and started typing things in. She ate her sandwich with one hand while working with the other. Natasha stared at the sandwich Hal had made her. Hal wasn't big on words, but she spoke of her care in volume when it came to actions.

"Thank you."

Hal swallowed her mouthful and said, "He always makes me food, I thought it was what your family does."

Natasha had to smile at that. It was what her father did and she assumed Misha's father was the same. She couldn't remember. She was thirteen when he had died and she hadn't spent any significant time in the city. Usually Misha came out to the water farm.

"It is. Even when his mother was busy with some painting, she would always feed us. I think that was her way of showing love."

Especially after Misha's father had died. She had tried so hard to fill the gap that was left by his death.

Hal said, "Harrumph."

Natasha batted eyelashes at Hal and asked in a sugary voice, "Does that mean you love me Hal? Oh, Hal, My darling, sweetie pie, Hal."

Hal just snorted.

Natasha enjoyed making her a little nervous when it came to dealing with social situations. Back to her normal voice she asked, only half-jokingly.

"So are you dating Misha?"

"Is that any of your business?"

Man, she was prickly, but also honest.

"Not really, I'm just being nosey."

Hal made a rude gesture to that answer. She went back to her work, then she must have realised something as she went still and looked up.

"Are you asking because you think it is impossible?"

Natasha said, "Not the way he has been looking at you. I think he is head over heels. So, are you going to marry him?"

Hal started to choke on her sandwich and Natasha laughed.

Hal glared at her. "You are an evil witch and after I brought you a sandwich."

Natasha tried to stop laughing. "Welcome to the family, Hal. You're just perfect."

Hal wiped crumbs off her clothes. She looked up when warnings went on her sensors. Something flickered in her eyes and Natasha knew it was trouble. Someone leaned on the buzzer and someone said, "Let us in, Hal."

Hal frowned and asked softly of no one, "Degu?"

"Let us in Hal or your boyfriend isn't going to see the dawn."

Natasha's blood went cold and when Hal went to buzz the gate open, she grabbed Hal's arm and hissed out, "What are you doing? He's working for Marcus."

Natasha motioned to the screens that showed he wasn't alone outside and that the place was surrounded by Marcus' goons. Hal pulled free and buzzed him in.

"I'm not going to let them hurt Misha. Just go along with it all and everything is going to work out fine."

Natasha glared at her, but remained still when Degu and the others came into the workshop. Degu caught her arm and pushed her into a chair. Marcus himself strolled in. He was dressed like an old-fashioned pimp. He motioned to his men who grabbed Hal and pulled her in front of Marcus.

He patted her cheek gently and drawled, "Nice to see you, Tinker."

One of his goons behind Hal zapped her with one of her own devices. Similar to the one she had used on Marcus' men when they had first come after her. She really did need to catalogue who had her machines.

Once Hal recovered, she staggered to her feet. She spat at Marcus and he backhanded her. When she looked up, she had a split lip that bled sluggishly. She stuck out her tongue and licked away the blood. The split lip was already healed. It seemed electricity had an adverse effect on her glyphs. Something sparked in Marcus' eye.

He motioned to Degu and a couple of other men. "Keep her safe, we might need her later."

They then took Hal away.

___

It was hours later as the small window showed darkness on the other side. Misha groaned as he moved to a sitting position. He looked around himself. He was in a metal cage in a basement.

He wrinkled his nose. Could Marcus get more cliché? He understood why he had done this. There was no other way to keep Misha under normal circumstances. Why was he still alive though?

The door rattled open. Halcyon was shoved in and she went to the cage on her knees and reached through. "You all right?"

Misha clasped her hand as he said, "Why did you come?"

"They have Natasha."

Fear went through his blood.

"Is she all right?"

Her eyes sparked with emotion as she answered, "Your old friend is with her. The one that wanted the dragon."

Misha frowned as he realised she was talking about Degu. "He's working for Marcus, is he?"

She just nodded.

That made him feel better. Degu would find some way to keep Natasha safe. He lightly touched her face. His eyes searched her out, but there was no blood so she hadn't been hurt and healed already.

"Are you all right?"

Halcyon brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his fingers.

"I'm fine."

He looked up when Marcus drawled, "Touching."

Marcus wore a white suit and appeared the epitome of a don boss from the movies.

Halcyon glared at him though she didn't let go of Misha's hand.

"What do you want, Marcus? I don't have the plasma gun anymore. I destroyed it and I don't have the equipment here to make another."

Marcus prowled the room like a tiger stalking its prey.

"I don't want the gun anymore. I hear you have something more valuable."

Marcus leaned against the bars of the cage casually. "I want to know how you defeated my men. They said they shot you and you still came at them."

Halcyon automatically put her hand at her side. She had two scars from the two times Marcus had sent men after her.

"It was a graze." She down played the injuries.

"Not according to the Enforcers. They said you had no injury."

She shook her head and waved it off with a flick of her hand. "It is nothing. I just heal well."

"Not what I've heard. I met a young boy the other day that was cured of cancer."

"You don't have cancer. You are a sick bastard, but nothing I can help you with." Halcyon growled out.

Marcus grinned, showing teeth, but no amusement.

"Give me whatever secret you have and I won't kill lover boy over there." He motioned to Misha.

"It won't work on you." Halcyon hissed. Her hand tightened on Misha's and betrayed her nerves.

In a flash of movement, Marcus pulled out a gun and he was no longer casual. "Have I changed your mind?"

He pointed it at her then at him. Her lips were pressed together into a thin line. Halcyon didn't know what a bullet would do at close range especially after they had been zapped earlier. The glyphs might still be affected and not as effective.

"I will give you the glyph, but it won't work. You don't have the right EM field. I don't know what it will do to you."

Marcus grinned. He realised he had the leverage to work against her. "What do you need?"

"I need my tattoo gear from the shop." She wrinkled her nose as she thought.

"I have what you need. I had my men bring it over when we picked you up." Marcus waved that off as easily done.

When the men pulled her away, she shoved them away and turned to Misha. He reached out and said, "It is going to be all right."

Her eyes sparked with her fiery nature.

___

Hal fumed when she saw they had even brought her chair and shoved it in the large lounge of the house. She muttered and fussed with her things and put them on a tray. She watched the men from the corner of her eye, to see if they would notice her slipping something away. But there were four men watching her at all times.

Marcus stripped off his suit jacket. "I knew I would get you on my side, Tinker. You even brought me my Soldier. I just need a Sailor now."

"It still won't work Marcus. I can't give you what I have given the others freely. Your greed will only be your downfall not your triumph."

"It isn't greed, sweetheart. It is my due." He waved his hand to indicate the city. "You look at all these people and there is one clear thing about them all. They are victims. It won't matter if my kind existed or not, they will always be victims. The fact that I can take things from them only proves they are victims."

Marcus took off his shirt and flicked it over his suit jacket.

"I am a survivor, Tinker sweetheart," he grinned, showing his teeth, "Surely you understand, after all you are a survivor as well."

She spat out. "I am nothing like you, Marcus. I don't prey on the weak and call it survival. Get on the chair."

He laughed.

Hal stared at his aura long after he had mounted the chair.

"This is your last warning Marcus. If I put these on you, you won't have the strength you think you deserve. You will only get misery from this." Marcus motioned to someone and she had a cold barrel pressed to her temple.

She glared at Marcus and said, "You were warned."

She started the tattoo gun.

"Which powers did you want?" She snapped.

"That super strength your boyfriend has is where you will start. Then, I want your ability to heal. I also hear your boyfriend can hear lies. I want that as well."

Hal thinned her lips. Someone was talking to Marcus about Misha. Anger burned through her.

"What do you expect to happen after all this, Marcus? Is there any future where you will let me and Misha go?"

He snorted as he tried to remain expressionless while she tattooed him.

"I am going to take this where you're too afraid to take it. You're going to make me a god amongst men. And you'll make my men into my angels."

___

They brought Halcyon back hours later. They shoved her into the cage half unconscious so Misha knew they had done to her what they had done to him. He pulled her so she was lying with her head on his lap. He stroked her hair as he waited for her to come back to herself.

She said after a long pause, "He wants me to do all of his men."

"We'll find a way out," he reassured her.

Halcyon sat up then, her eyes sparked.

"How can you be so dang calm? We have a murderous idiot who thinks I have the secret to him being immortal."

He had never thought the healing glyphs could be that powerful, but then he hadn't thought of them much, besides the fact it could help people. "Can it?"

"WHAT?"

Her anger was winding up like a clockwork doll.

He asked again, "Can it make him immortal?"

"No, it didn't make our ancestors immortal. Why the heck are we talking about this? Why aren't you crying or screaming? Why do you have to be so calm all the time?"

He touched her cheek and he had wondered if she had figured out why he worked so hard at being calm. "I'm a big man and I realised a long time ago if I ever lost my temper, I could hurt someone. Kill someone even. I don't have the luxury of getting mad."

Halcyon smacked him in the chest with her fist and considering that she also had strength glyphs, it actually hurt.

"You can get mad at me, dang it. You're not going to hurt me; you can't hurt me. I brought this on us. If I never dealt with that idiot, he would never have known about what I could make. You don't have to worry about hurting me so, dang it, get mad at me."

Misha caught her face and looked into her eyes.

"But I'm not mad at you. I love you."

Tears came to her eyes. "Why do you have to tell me that now when we are likely to die?"

His lips turned up in a soft smile. "We won't."

He pulled her against his chest. She sniffled for a long time, then said, "I love you too, and I'll get spitting mad if you get hurt or killed. You understand me?"

"I understand." His voice was soft and gentle.

"And how did you think this was the right time to say you love me?" She huffed.

He laughed and then held her closer.

___

They had tied Natasha to a chair in the workshop. Degu leaned against the doorway. Natasha hadn't met him before. Misha had spoken of him. She glared at him and spat out.

"How could you betray a friend, like that?"

He watched the two other men who had stayed behind. He spoke softly so they wouldn't hear him.

"I didn't betray him. They were going to take him and I knew if they didn't have Hal, they would torture him or kill him to get her to do what they wanted. This way he is in better shape to kick butt," he glanced at her, "I saw what they did to the goons Marcus sent last time. Hal is smart, they'll get out of this. I'm more worried about you. You are expendable and Marcus likes to create a rep by torturing people in front of others to get a message across."

Natasha shivered at the thought. She wouldn't let fear rule her, though.

"So, what the heck are you going to do about it?" She asked.

"Well, in a moment you are going to ask to go to the toilet and I am going to call over one of the men. You'll already be untied and you're going to smash him over the head. While you do that, I'll take out the other one. I'll need you to knock me out as well though. Then, you need to get away from here.

"I hear you come from the edges. Well, go back. The city is only going to get you killed. It's on the verge of the gangs going to all-out war."

"Just do it already." Natasha snapped.

Degu waited until the men weren't looking and quickly slashed her bonds. She pulled a metal pole that was one of the legs of a chair and propped it against her own chair. Then she settled back, so it appeared she was still tied up. Degu returned to his position before the others noticed.

She yelled, "Hey, I need the bathroom. Can you jerks hear me?"

Degu turned to her and said gruffly, "Shut up."

One of the other men approached at the yelling. Degu and the man talked quietly for a while, then Degu left. The man leered at her and she realised now why Degu had thought the man would be happy to take her to the bathroom alone.

Her fingers clasped on the rod of metal she had leaned against the chair. He bent down to untie her. He jerked up as he realised she was already free, but it was too late. She swung the rod. She wasn't as powerful as Misha was though she did know a few tricks and the man was down for the count. She had learned something from her uncle. Glass jaws.

When Natasha went outside Degu was breathing hard from his fight with the other man, but at least he was out.

She asked, "How do you know they won't remember it was you that helped me?"

He said, "Short-term memory is affected when you have a blow to the head."

She jerked her head towards the one in the room, "Then you need to tap that one on the head. I hit him in the jaw. I would love to say it would work on his short-term memory, but I don't think so."

Degu disappeared into the room for a time. He seemed grim when he returned.

"Even if he does remember he doesn't know it was me who let you lose. Now you hit me. Preferably something like what you did for him." She grinned and picked up the rod.

___

Enforcer Harold picked up after the first ring. Natasha was running down the street so it was hard to talk.

"They took Misha and Hal."

He was silent for a while before he asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Misha's friend helped me out."

"Where are you?"

"I'm on the way to the Center."

She dodged traffic and turned another corner.

"What the heck for?" He asked.

"Well, I kinda have to pick up Misha's army. Can you help?"

He was silent for a long time. "I can rustle up a few men, but what I can do is tell you where they are."

Natasha actually stopped running for a second. "Where?"

"We were watching the place after we sniffed it out with George."

She was amused that they still called them George.

"Where, Harold?" She growled impatiently.

"I don't want you getting into trouble." Too late for that.

"Don't worry about me. I have an army."

She was almost at the Center. She put on speed.

Henry jerked with surprise when she slammed into the Center at a run.

Ari came up to her and asked, "Where is Misha? He's late for his class."

Natasha shook her head and Henry approached her.

He frowned in concern. "Are you all right, my girl?"

She gasped in enough breath to talk. "They took Misha and Hal. How many of you have a glyph?"

Several of the kids put up their hands. All stared at each other in confusion. She pointed to Ari, who didn't have his hand up.

"Find the others and tell them where Misha is."

She wrote it down on his arm with a marker Henry had in his office.

Chapter Eleven

Panacea: September, 2061

Elisha pushed through the people standing around the base of the tower. Lights flashed and someone had managed to get a fire truck. She saw the site manager and pushed her way towards him.

She gasped out, "What happened?"

He turned around and when he saw it was her started to direct her away from the tower. "Mrs. Nasser, please. You shouldn't be here. Think of the baby."

She waved that off. "The baby is fine. Tell me what happened."

He hesitated. "Someone set a bomb. We think it's the last of the resistance. They believe if the Weather Shield is made then they won't have a place here. They are desperate."

She sneered. "There will always be a place for people. Has the Professor seen this?"

He nodded and motioned towards the tower. "He is with the men. He's trying to make sure the plant matter is safe. He said something along the lines as long as that is safe the project can go on."

She agreed and said to the manager.

"Make sure the building is safe, but don't worry, we can rebuild." He shook his head.

"Some of the building material is irreplaceable, Mrs. Nasser. Please, go home. We'll assess it all in the morning."

She placed her hand over his and said, "I'm not going until my husband is here to take me away. We have risked enough. I don't want to lose him."

The manager paled. "No, Mrs. Nasser, the professor. Well, he is dear to us. No one would dare endanger him."

She pushed him a little. "Then please make sure he doesn't endanger himself."

He nodded vigorously and rushed off. Elisha looked up. They were so close to completion. It was one setback after another. All she wanted to do was make it safe for people to live here. The rest was politics. She wished the city would make a truce with the rest of the outsiders and just give them a place to stay. She knew what they all feared, but it was all groundless in the greater scope of things.

The fire burned up one side of the almost complete tower. It appeared like gold fingers caressing the skin of the metal tower. It curled in and out of windows. The bottom part was black and no longer aflame. Maybe they could save some of it. Maybe.

Panacea: September, 2086

He could hear the noise coming from above. Misha stood up. Those sounds were very familiar.

Halcyon asked, "What is it?"

"There is fighting."

The door was slammed open and a panicked man came in. He slammed the door shut and stared at it for a long time while he panted for breath. When he heard another bang, he flinched and turned to look at them.

Halcyon had stood next to him when he had heard the sounds. The man glared at them and obviously came up with a plan as he reached for the keys that were hanging up. He approached the cage they were in. He should have paid more attention to the reach of Misha's arms. The man was still fiddling with the keys when Misha caught him by his shirt and slammed him against the cage.

Misha swore when the keys were flung out of their reach and he let the man go and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Halcyon asked, "Has he got a knife?"

He had one in his boot, which Misha discovered after a quick search.

Halcyon flicked it out and approached the gate of the cage and he asked, "You think you can pick the lock?"

"No, but then this is a cellar and this cage is not meant to keep people prisoner," she motioned to the hinges of the cage, "not only are they pins, they are on our side. Give me a hand, will you?"

Together they took the pins out of the hinges. The gate fell open and wrenched out of the lock. It crashed with a screech of metal. They didn't think anyone would hear though as the sound of fighting was even louder now.

They stepped over the door and the unconscious man to leave. Halcyon turned to the exit, but Misha caught her arm.

"They took Karl and his cousin. I don't think Marcus is the kind to keep his word. They must be here somewhere."

She paled at the implications of Marcus holding children for any length of time and followed him.

The house was made up of a warren of rooms that held mostly stolen goods. They didn't waste time on unlocked doors. They finally found one that was locked.

"Is anyone in there?" Misha called.

They were rewarded with the cries of the children. Misha kicked the door in. Inside they found the children and Lisa. Karl and his cousin, Anne, threw themselves at him.

Karl sobbed out, "I knew you would come." Tears running down his cheeks.

It always surprised Misha the sense of faith children had in him. Karl gasped out after a glare at his sister, "I hate Lisa. She was awful what she did to you."

Misha held the boy closer and said, "Don't blame Lisa. She was only doing what was best for you two. That's what she has always done."

He nodded to Lisa, who said softly, "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter. We need to get out of here."

When Misha tried to move, Anne was still clinging to him. He picked her up and she pressed her head into his neck.

She muttered, "I was scared."

He held her a little tighter and gave her a soft smile. "Am I your friend now?"

"Yes. Oh, yes."

Halcyon urged, "This way."

The building was a maze of narrow corridors. They turned and saw a young boy.

Misha asked, "Ari? What are you doing here?"

Especially since the boy had no protection against Marcus' thugs. He didn't answer, instead he turned back the way he came and yelled, "They are here."

Natasha came around the corner, "Good you're all right."

Misha passed the girl to Natasha and said, "Get them out. We need to find Marcus."

Natasha held the girl and said, "Marcus isn't here. We've already searched all the rooms. This is apparently his last drug lab. The Enforcers were going to raid it at the end of the week."

Halcyon snapped her fingers. "The club."

They all turned to look at her. "Marcus just bought his club. I thought it was strange because he has been hemorrhaging cash in the last few weeks."

Misha glared at her. "Why didn't you tell us this?"

She said, "I was monitoring him, but I didn't see the point to tell everyone. I bet he's at the club."

Misha turned to Natasha. "Take the kids to Enforcer Harold. Marcus has glyphs and could be dangerous."

___

The club was deserted. Though, that wasn't surprising since it was the middle of the day and the club wouldn't technically be open for another few hours.

Misha didn't use any finesse on the door and kicked it in. It wasn't steel like the cage so it collapsed inwards at the brute force.

Hal led the way. She took him to the back room; she had met Marcus in before. That also had changed. Marcus was there, except there were no women. Instead, he was surrounded by stacks of packaged parcels. She assumed they were drugs. He lounged on a throne made out of them.

Marcus didn't wear a shirt and it revealed the glyphs she had put on him. He even had the balance ones she had put on Misha in the hope it would save Marcus.

By the look of his EM field though he was already feeling the effects of the glyphs. Unlike Misha and herself it would slowly eat him up from the inside.

Marcus waved to the room and said, "Welcome to my domain. Where I am God. Bow to me."

Hal frowned. He was going mad. Had she made a mistake in putting in the balance glyph?

"Marcus," she groaned out. He grinned, but it wasn't a pretty thing, "You're no god, Marcus. No man can bring themselves even close to that particular distinction. We're all flawed. We were never supposed to be perfect. Our ancestors knew that. They did not make themselves gods and I don't think we should either. Instead, your EM field is turbulent. You are rotten fruit. You might think you smell like roses right now, but give it time."

He chuckled. "Ah, such pretty words, Tinker."

Misha stepped in front of her and said, "Leave her out of it. It is just you and me, Marcus. You want to test those things against a real opponent."

Marcus' answer was to step off the throne.

He ran his hands over his chest. "Ah, the Soldier. Ever the one to put yourself in front of danger for others. How has that worked for you in the past? Where are your friends? Family? I haven't felt this alive since I tried my first joint. I don't need anyone else. You do though. You need her, don't you?"

Hal frowned. Was Marcus fool enough to take his own product? She hoped not. That would only accelerate what the glyphs would do.

"Let's make this interesting, Marcus. You win and Halcyon puts these things on anyone you want. She will make your army for you. If you lose, you turn yourself over to the Enforcers. They are not very keen on you distributing Ambrosia. I've seen your drug hotels and I can understand why they would want to stamp those dumps out."

Marcus rolled his shoulders in preparation for a fight.

"The Ambrosia is no longer my concern. Was it you, Tinker sweetheart, that gave them the key to my demise? I had them in my pocket for so long then all of a sudden they could sniff me out like a dog. Never mind."

Marcus waved off his question when the two of them just glared at him.

Misha interjected, "Is it a deal?"

"A deal it is, Soldier. I'm going to kill you and take her so I don't care if we make a side deal."

Misha didn't say anything. He stepped forward. Her heart was in her throat because Misha seemed so casual. Like this wasn't a fight to the death. She stopped Misha and pointed to the floor.

Marcus laughed. "You didn't think I would make it that easy."

When Misha glanced at her, she said, "He has put something on the floor that has a charge. See the carpet is wet."

Misha concurred. He shocked her by jumping up and running across the drugs. A few piles of the drugs fell down and the ground sparked. The lights overhead flickered and then snapped out. The power probably blew a fuse.

Marcus grabbed a chair and went to smash Misha. He slipped in as he swung and threw Marcus to the ground. The fight was over in a flash. Hal gasped.

Misha grabbed Marcus' hands and wrenched them behind his back while he kept him pinned to the ground.

"Cable ties, Halcyon."

There were some spares from the drug packaging so she brought them over.

"How did you do that? I mean on TV—" He made some loops and slipped them over Marcus wrists.

"TV shows are not realistic, sweetheart. In a fight like this it's over quick."

"I've watched the real things. Like the old Olympics. Those fights weren't like this."

Though, the more she thought about it, they weren't that different. In those fights the people would come in and there would be a few fast attacks and then they would step back.

"Those fights aren't this serious."

So, Misha had taken the fight seriously. He even cable tied Marcus' feet.

Hal turned to look at the door when Harold said, "It looks like I missed the best part."

She bubbled with her pride in Misha. "Yeah, Misha took him down like a flash."

She mimicked his move as best as she could.

Harold helped Misha with the squirming Marcus.

Marcus whimpered. "Why didn't they work? I'm supposed to be a God."

She said, "Your EM field isn't right for this, Marcus. I told you."

Marcus said, "I was supposed to be a God." He breathed out, but no one was listening to him anymore.

Harold slapped him on his back. "Well, the men at the prison will think you are sure pretty with all these tats."

Harold shoved him and said as he pushed Marcus out the door. "Don't worry Miss Smith we will deal with Marcus."

Hal knew he could. He had the glyphs as well. Marcus just didn't realise a healthy aura trumped the glyphs.

She went up to Misha and asked, "Are you all right?"

He said, "We will both be all right."

She smiled at him. "Still love me?"

"Until the day I die."

She hoped that was a long way off. She hadn't thought about the longevity effects of the health glyph until Misha had spoken of immortality.
Chapter Twelve

Panacea: January, 2062

The balcony of the home had a lovely view of the half-grown Weather Shield. Nasser had come up with the name Shield. He said it would remind people of protection, but never allow them to forget the price they had to pay to have it.

Elisha looked behind her at him resting. He tired quickly as he recovered from his burns. He would live, but with scars. She thought it ironic as she bore her own scars as well. Maybe all of them would. The world certainly would.

Warren cried in the other room and she went to him. She hummed to him a lullaby her mother used to sing to her. One of the other professors at the University was collecting things like the lullaby and was, with the help of another, setting up the internet again.

Elisha worried sometimes about what was lost. She was glad her mother's lullaby wasn't one of them. Warren finally settled back into sleep. He had his father's hair and her nose. She smiled down at him. Her heart filled with love. She turned when Nasser whispered, "Is he asleep?"

She nodded and followed him out of the room. They went back to the balcony. He winced as he leaned on the short wall.

Frowning, she asked, "Are you all right?"

He said, "I will be. Isn't it beautiful?"

She smiled. "I was admiring it just before. It should be fully grown within the month. Long before the winter months. We shouldn't lose anyone from hypothermia this year."

He came up behind her and placed his arms around her.

"You are a wonderful person, Elisha."

She winced. "It will never make up for Colorado."

She still dreamed she had said no to her government and never made the virus. She wished she had walked away. Instead, mostly she dreamed reality.

The bodies left in the street to rot because there hadn't been enough people alive to bury them.

Nasser kissed her cheek even though she realised it would hurt with his burns.

"We can try, sweetheart, to fix our mistakes. It is only when we don't, that it becomes unforgivable."

Panacea: November, 2086

Natasha woke up in the middle of the night. She was sticky with sweat. The nightmare lingered. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. There was no thought of going straight back to sleep so she went to the bathroom.

With Misha in Hal's room, she had the bathroom to herself. She leaned against the sink and splashed water on her face. She jerked when for a moment there was a flicker of the man. It was always the man. He was lying on the floor and he was bleeding.

She crumpled with a small cry. She was going crazy. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. She had seen men and woman who had cracked under the pressure of war.

It felt like all her insides were turning to liquid and dripping out of her. Soon she would start wearing tin hats and Misha would have to put her into a hospital.

It would break her father's heart. Who was she kidding, just the thought of it was breaking her heart. How could she really think of having a life of any kind while she was crazy? No children. No husband.

She jumped when she heard someone outside. She rubbed at her face. The warehouse went quiet after a long time and she took a deep breath. She couldn't tell Hal that one of her glyphs was making her mad. Not unless she was going to put it on someone else.

That meant she couldn't tell Misha either. Those two were joined at the hip. That meant she would also have to hide it.

___

"Hello, Harold."

Hal said without even looking up from her work. She had heard the buzzer, but Natasha had let him in. He stood at the entrance of the warehouse.

"Why do you insist on calling me that? If you want to call me by my name, you should call me Jephry."

She grinned at him and clapped her hands. "I knew you would warm up to me eventually."

He snorted and tapped the gadget she was working on. "What is this?"

"This is to suppress someone's EM field. I think it might help Marcus."

She went back to putting in the last components.

There was a tense silence and she looked up.

"What?"

His face was strained which said a lot about the news he was about to tell her.

"Marcus committed suicide last night."

She ached. She hadn't killed him herself, but it felt like that. Tapping the screwdriver on the table she made a choice and went back to making the EM field suppressor.

"I warned him, but he wouldn't listen," she added.

"Men like him will never listen to good advice. It isn't your problem to solve, Miss Smith."

Hal ran a hand through her hair.

"As long as people believe every problem is someone else's to solve none will be remedied."

He was thoughtful for a long time. "The scientist that created the Weather Shield used to live in this city, you know."

"Really?"

He said, "She hated having people tell her she was a good person for giving away the Shield and helping people build them. They even wanted to give her an award, but she refused. You see, what many people don't know is that the Weather Shield maker was also the Butcher of Colorado."

She hissed, "That killed millions. Is that why she gave away the Shield?"

He said, "I think so. She is the reason why I decided to settle here. She still has descendants living here, though she passed away last year."

Hal blinked as she added up clues in her head, "Did you know her?"

He said, "I knew someone just like her, but I don't think you can know someone completely like that."

"Mmm, Misha would say something like that."

Harold had a brief flicker of a smile on his lips. "I see why you two are suited."

She grinned at the mention of Misha. She placed the case on the suppressor and sealed it. "Oh? Yeah, and why do you say that?"

"Your boyfriend has a serious case of Heroism."

She hopped off her seat and patted Harold on his chest.

"Yeah, ain't it awesome?"

___

Misha corrected the stance of a child. The kid grinned at him and went through the kata, this time getting the move right.

Lisa said behind him, "You're really good with the kids."

He glanced behind him. She had her arm in a sling. He hadn't realised she was hurt when they had taken her out of the drug house. She had a rainbow of bruises as well.

Misha turned back to the children and set them up so he could speak with Lisa without them being disrupted. He approached her cautiously. She appeared older than she had a week ago.

She shifted nervously. "I know I said I was sorry, but I thought I would come and apologise properly. You've only done well for me and my family and I repaid you with poison."

Misha said, "You were just looking after the kids. You didn't know Marcus wouldn't keep his word."

Lisa denied that with a small movement of her head. "What I was, was a fool. I should never have believed he would let the kids go or even me. I was stupid. I think it was because I was scared."

He touched her shoulder and she looked up. A pink blush stained her cheeks.

"You were a hero, Lisa."

She shook her head again, this time biting her lip.

He explained, "Hero is a man or in this case a woman who is afraid to run away. You were scared, but you could have left. You could have said to yourself that Marcus was going to kill them anyway why stick around. You could have taken the train to the edges and lived your life quite comfortably. Maybe you would have a few sleepless nights, but no one would blame you. No Lisa, heroes are the ones that stick around for when the crap hits the fan. That makes you a hero."

There were tears in her eyes. "Thank you, Misha," she stopped chewing on her bottom lip and a soft smile came to them, "and I like your girlfriend."

Misha said, "Yeah, so do I." He patted the shoulder he was touching. "Put it behind you, Lisa. You're more than what happened."

She nodded and he felt she might actually believe him.

___

Degu leaned against the gate to Halcyon's place.

"Are you going to come in?" Misha asked.

Degu said, "I just wanted to say goodbye."

Misha asked, "What is up?"

"I'm giving up the life. I think this has shown me we're living in a house of cards. Enforcer Harold, he has offered me a position amongst the Enforcers. He is going to teach me to be a proper detective instead of chasing down small-time crooks."

Misha smiled slightly, silently pleased with this development.

"It will be better for your aura."

Degu said, "You and your bloody auras. You know I don't believe in that stuff."

Misha motioned to the tattoo on his cheek and said, "This has saved my life more than a few times in the last few months."

He patted Degu's shoulder. "Well, come over for dinner when Enforcer Harold comes over."

This shocked Degu.

"Yeah, Halcyon is quite friendly with the Enforcer. Don't ask me. He just looks like a cold-hearted killer to me. Natasha likes him as well so there must be something to him. You will do well with him."

Degu said his good-byes and left.

When Misha got inside, he heard Natasha and Halcyon talking in the kitchen. He walked carefully and leaned against the door and watched the two of them for a long time. He missed having family around so he was glad to see Natasha. Though, she was looking tired of late. Maybe he would talk to her. Or she was just spending too much time exploring Halcyon's toys.

Natasha had drilled his ear off the other day as she spoke about a large clock, she had put together from the bits she had found in the courtyard. She was especially proud of it as she had managed to sell it to one of the local landowners. He had a clock tower on one of his buildings that had once been a look out for snipers during the war and whatever clock was there had long since disappeared.

Natasha said she would put it in as well for the man and everyone seemed pleased with the deal. He knew Natasha would be alright in the city, no matter what happened.

Halcyon turned to look at him and asked him, "So, what do you think?"

He smiled and closed the space between them and kissed Halcyon. She shoved at his chest after a while and said, "I was having a serious conversation here, mister."

His smile widened and kissed her again. She pushed him away again. "You are just going to do that until I stop pestering you, aren't you?"

"Yes." His eyes sparkled with his joy in their relationship.

"Then why should I stop pestering you."

She returned the soft smile he gave her.

He kissed her again and they separated after a long time chuckling together. He looked up to see Natasha was watching them. There was something warm in her eyes.

"You guys look so pretty when you do that."

Misha frowned until he realised she spoke of their auras. His life really had taken a strange turn. One he was pleased he had gone down. Who would have thought accompanying a friend to a tattoo parlor would catch him love and family?

Halcyon asked, "So, Natasha, are you going to move into Misha's room?"

He laughed at her look, then she shook it off and asked, "So, I take it the two of you are official now."

Halcyon frowned and he kissed her temple and explained, "She wants to know if we are getting married."

Halcyon pulled away and asked, "Hey, wait, are you serious? This is a terrible way to propose."

Misha dug in his pocket and passed her a small box, "Does this make it any better?"

She put her hands on her mouth and tears were in her eyes. She whispered out, "Oh, Misha. Oh, Misha."

Halcyon trembled as she took the box and opened it.

She looked between the ring and his face over and over. He asked, amused, "I have knocked even speech from you, haven't I?"

She just nodded her head.

Natasha said, "I think you can take that as a yes, Misha."

Misha took Halcyon into his arms and she actually sobbed against his chest. His own chest ached with the joy he felt at her acceptance.

Epilogue

Panacea: December, 2086

Hal fussed in the mirror with her hair. She had thought about buying a dress, but knew she really didn't have anywhere to wear it and it would be just silly to buy a dress for a phone call. So, instead she had bought hair wax and she styled her hair. She had already tried several and rejected most of them. She had finally opted for a simple slicked look that made her look like a pixie.

With butterflies in her stomach, she sat in front of the screen. Hal glanced at the clock. It was later than she expected, but well within the appropriate time for a change in time zone.

With a deep breath, she dialed. Her mother picked up after ten agonizing seconds. She sat down and fluffed her hair and asked, "Who is this?"

Her mother didn't look older though she looked different. There were no crease lines in her face and Hal wondered if she had plastic surgery.

"It's me, mother, Hal."

She squinted and eventually gave in and produced a pair of elegant glasses. "Oh, my goodness, it is you. Wow, I thought your hair would have grown out by now. The last time I saw you your hair was — Well." She waved her hand above her head, to indicate her baldness.

Hal sighed. "I decided to keep it short. It's more practical."

"It looks good on you. Oh, my goodness, how long has it been?"

"Eight years."

Her mother waved that off. "Nonsense that can't be right. It was like only yesterday that I saw you."

"It has been eight years and four months to be exact."

"Yes, yes, and you always liked to be exact. Well, I doubt you are calling just to catch up."

Hal braced herself. "I have news."

"Oh, did you finally finish University."

She said, "No, what would be the point? No, no, I'm calling to tell you I'm getting married."

Her mother tapped her lip with a painted fingernail as she thought. "Well, make sure you have a solid pre-nup. You can never be too prepared in this day and age."

Hal huffed. "He doesn't care about my money mother."

Her mother tutted. "You can never be sure, my dear, and it is better to be safe than sorry."

Hal shook her head. She couldn't understand how her mother could draw her into these ridiculous conversations.

"Mom, I don't want to argue over this. I just wanted you to know. I emailed dad so he should find out the next time he reads his emails."

Her mother waved it all off easily with a flick of her hand. "Yes, yes, brilliant dear. Well, I'll let you go. These transatlantic video calls are expensive and I wouldn't want you to waste all your money."

"I have enough."

She had more than enough to fly her parents' home for the wedding and back, even at the exorbitant prices for transatlantic flights.

"I've sent you two invites to the wedding though I don't really expect you guys to come."

Her mother's nose twitched and normally would wrinkle, but whatever she had done made that expression impossible. "Oh, certainly not. Your father has just secured a grant to investigate a new bioware applications. It is really fascinating stuff."

"I'm sure it is, mother. Dad should email me about that. As that is my field."

She laughed. "You have a field, my dear? You didn't even finish high school."

"Actually, I did, when I was fourteen. I wrote a thesis on Bioware manipulation when I was eighteen, but the doctorate board refused to see it because I'm dad's daughter. That doesn't matter. I just wanted you to know I was happy and doing well and that I was getting married to an awesome person."

"Well, that is lovely dear." She realised her mother had tuned out.

Hal sighed and said softly, "Goodbye, mom." And ended the call.

She turned around when Misha said from the stairs overlooking the lounge area. "So, they are still alive. I did wonder."

She wrinkled her nose. "Misha, there is one thing I want you to be aware of. I don't really have parents. I have parasitic ancestors who refuse to die."

He smiled. "They did one good thing."

"Yes, and what is that?"

"They made you, of course."

Reviews

Please write reviews. They really are the lifeblood of writing. It doesn't have to be much; anything would be appreciated.

Free Stuff

Sign up to my newsletter and get free stuff at my website www.nixwhitter.com

Softcover, ISBN 978-0-473-31483-5

Kindle, ISBN 978-0-473-31485-9

