 
Death's Twilight

By A.J. Leavens

Published by A.J. Leavens at Smashwords

Copyright 2014, A.J. Leavens

ISBN # 978-0-9937049-0-1

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To Connie, for always encouraging me to be the best I can be. I Love You.

To Noel Coughlan for being an extra set of eyes and catching the things I missed. Your help is greatly appreciated.

And

To those who have come with me on this journey to fulfill a dream - your support of this project is much appreciated. I am honored.

# PROLOGUE

Since 1966, the governments of many nations had been searching for ways to reduce use of fossil fuels and natural resources. In the last years of the Twentieth Century, consumption of pulp and paper products reached critical mass, and leaders realized the need for change. Think tanks were formed, and the brightest minds of the generation were brought together to solve the paper crisis. They found the solution: electronic mail.

With this invention by Ray Tomlinson in 1971, paper letters became less and less common, with over four million emails sent daily by 2000, and by 2015, all mail was being sent electronically. On Saturday, December 18, 2032, a series of mistakes by a group of then-World Leaders caused the Brothers of the Holy Dagger, a renegade organization in Zambia to push "The Button".

The retaliation by all G8 countries that were nuclear capable caused total nuclear winter. It was called The Great Fire. Citizens who survived revolted further, and all existing governments were wiped out. There was great civil unrest, and militant groups of all sizes, races, and religions fought for the next seventy years until a man calling himself George Washington united a group large enough to restore order.

Washington's strategy sessions were done using an old relic found in the Smithsonian Museum. It was a "game board" – something families used to compete amongst each other with – of a centuries old game called Risk. To make matters completely easy, Washington's new government divided the Earth into forty-two territories mimicking the territories on their strategy map.

A member of Washington's officer corps was installed in each of the territories to act as a Principal – Head of State as it were – and keep order among the citizens and encourage good faith among territories. These Principals reported back to Washington – and the United Territories was born.

World population was decimated by the nuclear attacks – with nearly five billion dying from radiation sickness alone – so breeding was highly encouraged by all capable citizens, with some Principals giving bonuses of greater rations or extensive properties for larger families. People had jobs, and industry flourished. The Government realized that certain areas were more appropriate for certain skill sets. Asia Territory, as an example, became synonymous with technology.

Individuals who showed promise in a specific skill set were transferred to the appropriate territory so they could utilize their skills to their fullest. The orders came via The Letter, and often separated family members. As the population began to restore itself, world population began to increase so quickly, it made the baby boom of the 1950′s look small in comparison. Families eager for assistance began having seven, eight, or nine kids. The result was a doubling of the population in less than ten years.

By the time Lincoln took office seventy years after Washington, it had doubled again. Population was returning to pre-nuclear levels. Officials realized that if the population continued to grow at the current rate, the planet would be unable to sustain the population for no more than ten years. They needed a solution, and relatively quickly. They imposed levies and taxes on households with more than four members. They actively discouraged, and eventually banned, breeding for citizens over forty.

But it wasn't enough. Population equalization was a mandate, and The Letter evolved. Since 2116, Emissaries have delivered over One Hundred and Five Million Letters in every city, town and village in the world.
Excerpts from a public address by Dwight D. Eisenhower, given to the graduating Alpha class of 2308

Congratulations, Emissaries

You have been selected from birth to be part of our Emissary Program. You have undergone specialized education and training, and have excelled at all tasks given to you. You have proven your worth to your superiors, and have achieved the rank of Alpha in the Program.

Alpha privileges include a suite at The College, and the luxury of having all of your immediate needs taken care of. Funds earned while performing your Deliveries will be yours to spend as you see fit. We also provide you with a state-issued hover for use while performing your duties.

Accepting this status comes with a great sense of duty. You will be part of the elite force of Two Thousand Emissaries delivering The Letter on a daily basis to individuals. You have a quota of Two Hundred and Twenty-Eight Letters annually, with an average time frame of one and a half days. Should you fulfill your quota before day Three Hundred, you may be eligible for additional bonuses, upgrades, or time off.

Once again, let me welcome you to the program, Alpha. You have worked hard to get here, and we appreciate the diligence it takes to make you what you are. Enjoy your new status. You've earned it. 

# CHAPTER ONE

The College, Eastern UT, December 2, 2308 06:00:00 (T-Minus 02:06:03:12)

The alarm went off at exactly six am, just like every other day. Slade Meechan rose from his single bed and crossed the tile floor to the utilitarian washroom. The motion sensor activated the lights as he entered the stainless steel and glass room. The washbasin was already filling with thirty-nine degree water, preset when he had accepted this room – Dwelling 020217.

The College was a sprawling, spiral-like complex, with each dwelling representing a geographical address within the complex. There were twelve radii – one for each month, with each radius having three floors, and thirty-one rooms on each floor. To say The College was daunting was an understatement. There are six Colleges in the World now – one in each zone, except Australia.

All emissaries were assigned rooms according to their birth date. For him, that meant Radius two, Floor two, Room seventeen. The main floor held all the administrative offices that kept The College running, and the upper floors held the Gym, a Common room that almost no one used, and Cafeteria.

At all times, there were two thousand, one hundred and sixty Alpha Emissaries on Active Duty. There was the same number of Beta Emissaries – ready to take over as an Alpha at a moments notice.

Each dwelling was identical, a short hallway leading from the access door into a sparse living area furnished with an armchair, lamp, end table, coffee table and viewing screen. From the living area, to the left was the kitchen, which has your standard LG Industries MKIII synthesis unit, a garbage disposal, compost and recycling bins, and dish cleaner. To the right, was the bedroom Slade had just exited, with its single bed, small window, and table with lamp.

As Slade looked into the mirror, he could see the beginnings of wrinkles. This job was tough. Slade was forty years old, but he looked fifty. Still young, by today's standards, where the average person lived well into their hundred and twenties – The Scores, they called them – but still old by visible standards. Non-Emissary individuals didn't begin to show wrinkles until their eighties, and only then if they were exposed to the harsh exterior of our post-nuclear world. Like he normally did, Slade used his sub dermal tattoo to alter his face, hiding the more noticeable wrinkles and lines.

Slade shaved quickly, and activated the shower, which was preset to forty-five degrees. As he was rinsing his hair, he heard the distinctive sound of the LND, Letter Notification Device. That meant he had work. Apparently _iCorps_ had someone on its list. Slade quickly finished up, toweled off, and headed to the terminal located just outside the kitchen.

Slade pressed the flashing red light.

" _Identification, please._ " The terminal's pleasant female voice inquired.

"Meechan, Slade. Dwelling 020217. Emissary 0247893 Alpha."

" _Voice pattern recognized. Proceed with biometric confirmation._ "

He lowered his head to the terminal for the retinal scan, at the same time inserting his right hand into the terminal for simultaneous fingerprint identification. If any of the three scans failed, countermeasures would instantly terminate the impostor trying to access the system.

" _Biometric scan confirmed. Proceed with download, Emissary 0247893._ "

The red light turned blue, and Slade pushed the button, initiating the download. The viewing screen in his living area came to life, and the image and details of his Target flared on the screen. Two pictures of the man were on the left, a profile and front-view. Information began to appear beside the pictures. There was a small square in the upper right hand corner of the screen. The form of a figure was completely silhouetted, and only the dark grey outline was visible. The voice began:

"Target is Randy Emery Herman, age sixty-two. Herman was convicted eighteen years ago of first-degree murder of government officials and the attempted assassination of Principal Leeds of the Alberta Territory. He was last seen entering Ukraine Territory yesterday at 1730 hours. Subject could be armed, and should be considered extremely dangerous."

"Why am I going for him? Surely there is someone in Europe Territory who can deliver." Slade asked.

"Herman originates in your Territory, 0247893, and as such he is your target." He knew that already. It was part of basic training. But he had to ask.

"Anything else I should know?" He asked the screen.

"Target date: December 4, 2308, 12:03:12pm local time. Your flight leaves in thirteen hours, twelve minutes, Emissary 0247893 Alpha. Do not be late."

The screen went black again. As it did, a small opening in the wall below the screen produced his black six-inch Tablet. It was an identical copy of the information he saw on the screen. It was supposed to be a reference, but it also served as verification of the correct individual through fingerprint and retinal identification.

Though he had thirteen hours till his flight, it was time to move. Slade packed light; a couple changes of clothes, a holo-film for the flight to Ukraine Territory, and his standard issue Boom Stick. A Boom Stick is a handy weapon – it issues a shock to the person it's aimed at, incapacitating them and rendering them immobile. It's _usually_ the only weapon an Emissary ever needs.

****

"Flick the wrist and release. Like so."

The instructor flicked her wrist and a bolt of energy shot across the room to find the dummy attached to the metal grounding platform. The base of the platform crackled with energy, and we all kept our distance.

Slade was seventeen, and this was Beta school. It was his second day of training. The first day was easy – it involved lots and lots of running, which he was good at. This was completely different. There were twenty-eight Betas in this class, one for each day of the month of February, their birth month. Herbert Hoover had done away with the Leap Year system in the second year of his term as a way of making the Emissary program easy to track and fill with candidates.

Their instructor was a short, blonde lady with a no-nonsense demeanor. She had attained Alpha status over a decade ago, but had had an accident that left her legs damaged. While she waited for her transplants to be grown, she had been assigned this class of first year recruits. As she walked down the line of recruits, she came upon a young man who was clearly having troubles.

"No! If you do it like that, you'll get yourself, not your target!"

She firmly took the young man's wrist and locked her hand around it, and then mimicked the flicking action for all to see. Slade copied the motion, determined to get it right. When his turn came six students later, Slade mustered up all the bravado he could, grabbed the boom stick, and flicked his wrist.

A sizzling bolt of blue energy shot forth from the end of the Boom Stick and reduced the dummy to pieces of stuffing and cloth no bigger than packing peanuts. The room fell silent. Slade could hear the individual breaths of the students as they looked on, some in amazement, and some in fear.

"Beta 0247893, step forward." The instructor spoke quietly, but firmly. Slade wasted no time, and separated himself from the line of recruits. The instructor made her way slowly down the line, drawing out the silence to its maximum point.

"0247893 how did you do that?" She asked when she reached him.

"I just followed your instructions, ma'am. That's all."

"Do it again." She commanded.

A new dummy replaced the one he had destroyed, and she stepped out of the way. Slade raised the Boom Stick, flicked his wrist and watched as another bolt flew from the stick straight at the target. The second dummy fared no better than the first, and there were small fragments littered around the base. The other students erupted in cheers, and then immediately quieted when the instructor shot them a glare that was hotter than the energy from the Boom Stick.

"Impressive, 0247893. Impressive. The rest of you, if _he_ can do it, _you_ can. NOW!"

They jumped to the task, leaving Slade with a sense of wonder and fear all rolled into one. This was the beginning of his time as a Beta, and it was not the first time Slade would impress an instructor.

After class had finished, the Betas changed, and were released for lunch. As Slade exited the change room, a pixie-like girl with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail fell into step beside him.

"That was some demonstration, Slade." She said, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

She was dressed in the female equivalent of his uniform, a tan tunic over dark brown pants, with black boots and a black belt. A holographic nametag in the tunic identified her as Sarah Ellwood, with her number - Beta 0248912 underneath.

"I just did what she told us to do."

"Just? You destroyed two practice dummies! Most of us couldn't even get them to move!"

"Sarah, it wasn't anything special. I..." Slade trailed off, embarrassed.

"You are going to be the best one day, Slade. I can see you being an Alpha."

"An Alpha? Please, Sarah. Don't make me out to be anything I'm not. It's our _second_ day. I'm not some amazing officer destined to bring down the bad guy. I'm just like you, and all the other Betas in our class - learning new skills, and doing the best I can."

She smiled at this, grabbing his hand as they headed toward the cafeteria.

"I know you'll be an Alpha. Let's go eat."

****

Packed and ready to go, Slade took the tube down to the parking garage. As the tube descended the two floors, he was able to see through the tubes windows that the offices on the first floor were empty. He checked his chronometer: Noon. His stomach grumbled as a reminder that, in all the excitement of this morning, he had forgotten to eat.

Slade pressed his index finger to the pad on the driver's door. His fingerprint unlocked the hover, allowing access to the cabin inside. Each Alpha's hover was coded to them and them alone. Opening the trunk, he stowed his duffle. Starting the hover, Slade turned on the music player, and selected his favorite artist, The Beatles. Music in his day was this heavy bass, syncopated thing, with high-pitched squeals punctuating throughout. They called it Dubstep, but he just didn't get it. He needed lyrics. The fact that all of The Beatles had been dead for almost two hundred and fifty years didn't matter. They were _his_ band.

Slade attached the restraint harness, and transferred his trip notes to the windshield. He would study on the way to lunch. Two birds, one stone, his Dad always used to say.

"Sarah, initiate auto-drive sequence. Authorization 0247893 Alpha." Everyone named their hovers. Slade had named his Sarah, after a girl he knew from Beta class.

" _Voice recognition accepted. Good afternoon, Slade. Where shall I take you today?_ "

"I need lunch, Sarah. Where would you suggest?"

" _Analysis of your composition indicates you are deficient in Calcium and Iron. Might I suggest a cheeseburger and a large chocolate shake from Melrose?"_

Slade smiled. Sarah knew him so well. "Sounds great, Sarah. Please drive."

As they travelled to his favorite local burger joint, he studied the documentation known about Randy Emery Herman. Herman had murdered Government officials. His scrolled slowly on the window in front of him: Two counts of break and enter, three counts of fraud, and four convictions for first-degree murder. He had been sent to the Penal Territory forty years ago, but had escaped three weeks ago.

He already knew Herman was spotted in Ukraine Territory, so Slade knew _where_ he was, generally, at least, but he didn't know _how_ he got there. Washington and his officers established the Australian continent as a Penal Territory shortly after settling everything down. Anyone convicted of a crime worse than theft was sent there for rehabilitation. Usually they didn't come back, and they most certainly didn't _escape_. Once you were loaded on the transport for the Penal Territory, you were forgotten. That's just how it was.

Sarah found him a spot a few meters from Melrose, and she parked. Slade closed all open information windows, and put Sarah in standby. Exiting the vehicle, he was surprised at the amount of foot traffic on Seventeenth Avenue. Despite the fact that it was lunchtime, there was almost never this much foot traffic on any sidewalk.

A blinking light caught his attention, and he looked up at the street lamp, noticing a green wreath hanging near the top, with a bright red ribbon tied neatly into a bow near the top. Lights were strung from lamppost to lamppost – red and green, alternating. It took him a minute to realize that these people were out Christmas shopping. Shaking his head, he stepped to the door, opened it, and was greeted by Haley, one of the joint's waitresses.

"Slade! How are you? It's been a while since you've been in. Sticking around, or to go today, hun?"

Slade smiled. The familiarity felt nice. In a solitary existence like his, it was great to be acknowledged.

"I'll stay, thanks."

Haley escorted him to a booth on the far side of the joint. As they passed by the vintage jukebox, Slade heard the unmistakable sounds of his favorite band playing. "Twist and Shout" was an upbeat number that always set his toes to tapping.

"Great track," he said as we arrived at his booth. "How did you –?"

"Sarah let us know you were coming."

"Of course she did." Slade was amazed. _When had his hover learned to do_ _that_?

Slade took a seat facing the street, watching the crowd as they streamed past the windows out front. Haley came back a minute later with a chocolate shake in a glass that was at least half a meter tall. Whipped cream and a cherry graced the top of the shake, and Haley had shaken some chocolate sprinkles on for effect. It was exactly the way he liked it.

"Sarah again?" Slade enquired.

Haley smiled, nodding and added: "Your burger will be out in a few minutes. Relax hun."

He leaned back in the booth, glancing around the joint. Patrons happily munched on burgers and chips. Melrose didn't synthesize anything, preferring instead to make their fare the "homemade" way – from _before_ The Great Fire. He didn't mind that one bit. No matter the make of synthesizer, no machine could make a burger like Melrose.

Slade sipped at his shake, enjoying the rich chocolate flavor and the feel of the cool ice cream on his tongue. It was the simple pleasures, really, that he enjoyed the most. A few minutes later his burger arrived, and Slade set to work making it disappear. As he was finishing the last bite, a man in his twenties approached his booth cautiously.

"Excuse me, Emissary. My name is Mack York. I'm a third year Beta, and I was wondering if I could ask you a couple questions."

Slade looked at his chronometer. It was one-thirty in the afternoon. His flight didn't leave for another six hours, and he was already packed.

"Be seated, Beta York. I have a Letter to deliver, but I can spare some time for your questions."

"Thank you, Emissary. I won't keep you long."

Slade motioned to Haley, who brought over two chocolate shakes. She set one in front of each man.

"Thank you!" Mack sat, genuinely surprised. Alphas and Betas never associated except in the training rooms or theory classrooms. Alphas stayed in The College, and Betas usually stayed with their parents until they attained Alpha status. The fact that Mack had mustered enough courage to approach him was an indication that his questions had some serious weight to them.

"So what's on your mind, Beta York?"

York never got a chance to ask his first question. As he opened his mouth to speak, Slade's chronometer chirped, and he glanced down at the display. There was a message from Control: _Flight early. Be at terminal in twenty-five minutes_.

"I must apologize. It seems my flight has been bumped up. Please look for me in three days time here at Melrose." Slade stood, offering his hand, which York shook. He looked crestfallen. It would have to wait till Slade returned.

"Of course, Emissary." He sat again, and then took a sip from his shake.

Slade settled the tab with Haley, and headed off to Sarah.

He allowed Sarah to auto-drive. It gave him time to change his Emissary uniform – apparently he had spilled some ketchup and barbecue sauce on his shirt - and to have another study of the information Control had given him on Herman.

Slade parked Sarah on the top level of the parking garage. As an Alpha, he had priority parking, complete with a covered, heated stall, direct access to the terminal, and priority checkout upon his return. Being an Emissary sure had its bonuses. He placed Sarah in hibernation mode, grabbed his duffle from the trunk and set the alarm. As Slade approached the sliding doors to the airport terminal, people scurried out of their way. No one wanted to be connected with an Emissary. An Emissary meant change.

# CHAPTER TWO

_Narang Residence, Siam, December 3, 2308 14:35:18 (T-Minus 00:00:15:13_ )

Hotaru Kogame smiled. Her target, Bijay Narang was in the corner café having coffee, completely oblivious to his surroundings. From the look of the liquid visible from the top of the cup, it was a Kona blend, one of her favorites. Still, she would have to wait until _after_ the delivery to enjoy one of her few vices.

She pulled the Tablet from her pack, checking the photos supplied by Control to ensure she had the right man. Placing the binoculars on the desk in front of her, she began to leaf through the papers on his desk. The usual bills, receipts and letters were neatly arranged by date and supplier. _He's really,_ really _organized_ , she thought.

Looking through the binoculars again, she watched as he paid his bill, rose, and headed toward her. She grabbed the Tablet from the table, opened the recognition program, and prepared her Tablet for delivery. She moved to the front room, and took a seat in the leather armchair by the door. She didn't have to wait long. The sound of keys in the lock was music to her ears. The door opened with a soft squeak of hinges, and Bijay walked through the threshold.

"Bijay Narang?" Hotaru's voice was soft and musical.

Bijay stopped dead in his tracks.

"How did..."

"I get in here?"

He nodded.

"I have my ways," she said calmly. "Mr. Bijay Narang, you have been served."

She stood, thrusting the Tablet into his hands, causing him to drop his newspaper on the floor. A small chirp emanated from the Tablet as his fingerprints were recognized. He looked down at the Tablet, trying to read the text on the screen in front of him. The Tablet's retinal scanners engaged, and Bijay slumped to the ground, the Tablet falling to the ground beside his now prone body.

Her chronometer chirped twice, recording the time of Delivery. She looked, and was pleased to note more than ten minutes remaining. She would get a bonus for this job. An extra day's vacation, perhaps? She glanced at the screen lying beside Bijay. The screen now showed the main screen, with its rows of icons for easy access. She picked up her Tablet, and strode quietly out of the room, closing the front door beside her, and heading toward the café across the street.

Alone in the room, the body of Bijay Narang began to change, and small lesions appeared on his arms. On his face, just under his right eye, a small cut appeared, and began to slowly ooze.

# CHAPTER THREE

Poltava, Ukraine, December 3, 2308 07:14:16 (T-Minus 01:04:48:56)

For his flight to Poltava, Slade chose _Back To The Future, Part II_ – a three hundred year old story about a boy and a doctor who travel to the future and accidentally cause some major changes in the past. It really showed what life was like in 2015. He would have liked to see an actual hover board, though. That tech was lost in The Great Fire.

The flight was uneventful. He had his own row of seats in first class, the meal was better than most of the airline food, and his holo-film was as great this time as the other thirty or so times he'd watched it. That Michael Fox was sure a good actor. _They don't act like that now, that's for darn sure,_ Slade thought to himself as the credits rolled.

For the remaining time after his holo-film, Slade reviewed what he knew about Ukraine Territory, about Randy Emery Herman; Slade theorized that Herman would hide in the Carpathian Mountains, so he downloaded skiing and mountain climbing from the plane's SKill Access TErminal. Using his sub-dermal tattoo, Slade altered his face to look more Nordic – blue eyes instead of his green, and fuller lips. He couldn't do anything about his dark hair, but he hoped that wouldn't matter - that he'd just blend in.

The plane landed at Poltava Air Base, (or what used to be Poltava Air Base) fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. There were no military installations anywhere now, only ruins. Washington had disbanded all armies upon securing office, and now only the Principals and _iCorps_ maintained order.

The old Air Base was now a proper airport – albeit an airport only Emissaries and other dignitaries used. The flight had taken five and a half hours. That was extremely good news. Adding in the eight hours for the time zone difference, Slade had been travelling for thirteen and a half hours. He'd lost half a day travelling, but still had two days to get to Herman.

Coming to the first newsstand in the airport, Slade quickly browsed the papers, headlines revealing nothing, but he cataloged every page into his memory. Perhaps something would be useful later. He approached the customs officials, who saluted him as if he was a Four Star General. His uniform indicated his involvement with the government, the _iCorps_ logo over the left breast of his coat. His chronometer translated speech both ways, allowing for easy communications between different cultures

"There is no need for a salute. Please stand down."

"But Colonel General, we are here to help. What do you seek?"

Slade pulled the Tablet from the pocket of his leather coat.

"I am an Emissary, not a General in your government. I am looking for this man, Randy Emery Herman. Has he come through this facility?"

The guards quickly searched their computers, looking for the information Slade had given them.

"Not through this terminal, Emissary, but the computer says his documents were scanned in Kiev two days ago."

"Excellent work, gentlemen. Can you direct me to someone to guide me who speaks English? I prefer it over using my chronometer."

"I do, Emissary," the taller of the two said. "My apologies for delaying you."

"No apology necessary. What is your name, officer?"

"Dmytro Kozel, Emissary."

"A pleasure to meet you, Officer Kozel. We must move. Please contact Kiev Airport and see if they have details on Herman's whereabouts."

Kozel was just shy of six feet, and had dark hair and eyes that were so dark blue, Slade thought they were purple. His pale complexion spoke volumes about the amount of time he spent indoors. He was slender, and, judging from the way he held himself, well built and active.

He instantly bent to the task, eyes scanning left and right as his fingers clacked keystrokes into the terminal. He paused for a moment, and then activated his chronometer, calling for assistance. As he did, Slade looked at his chronometer: two days, four hours, twenty-seven minutes, six seconds. If he could find his whereabouts today, Herman stood no chance. It took Dmytro less than two minutes to discover that Kiev had no information on Herman other than he passed through the terminal. This was going to be harder than he thought. But Slade had resources of his own.

Slade lifted his chronometer to his mouth.

"Voice activate, Emissary 0247893. Call Home."

A computer voice chirped from the device, " _Voice activation confirmed. Dialing. Please wait._ "

The sound transferred from the chronometer to an implanted receiver in his left ear. When the voice came to the line, it was tinny, far away.

"Emissary 0247893, this is Control. How can we be of assistance?"

"I need to track a Target. Identity, Randy Emery Herman. Last seen at Kiev airport over twenty-four hours ago. Initiate retinal and fingerprint scanners in Ukraine Territory and report."

Emissaries were able to commandeer any resources required of them in performing their tasks. Retinal scanners were installed in every traffic light, ABM, and washroom mirror round the world. If Herman were still in the Ukraine Territory, they'd find him.

"That request will take some time, Emissary. We shall report back to you as soon as we have results."

"Thank you, Control. 0247893 out." Slade turned to Kozel. "We had better get to Kiev. It's as good a starting point as any. How long till we can get there?"

Kozel studied the terminal in front of him. A frown flitted across his worn face, but was quickly replaced by a smile.

"Emissary, there is a plane from Poltava to Kiev leaving in fifteen minutes, and there are two seats left. We should be able to secure seats with relative ease, especially with your diplomatic status. Travel time is approximately fifty-five minutes."

Slade took a quick look at his chronometer.

"Make it happen, Kozel."

Kozel punched a few keys on his terminal, and nodded in satisfaction.

"We go." He said, indicating back toward the gate Slade had just come through a few minutes sooner. Slade smiled. In less than two hours, he'd have Herman in his grip.

The flight to Kiev was completely uneventful, giving Slade and Kozel ample time to talk. Slade learned that Kozel had two kids, an eight-year old son and a twelve-year old daughter. He had been married for twenty-five years, and had been in the Customs department for twenty. Life was good for Kozel, and Slade felt that familiar pang – loss of something he'd never have.

Kozel asked about his career with _iCorps_ – how Slade liked it, and how long he'd been with them. Slade told Kozel enough to be polite, but he certainly didn't give him the whole truth. Slade told him about delivering a Letter, how it was a thrill to find the person he had been sent to find, and the sense of pride at accomplishing his job.

What Slade _didn't_ tell him was that the person he had to deliver that letter to was his own mother, nor did Slade tell Kozel that he wasn't even in the same country to go to her funeral.

Slade had received an email three days after his Mother's death stating that the cause of death was lung cancer. To say it was a shock to him was the understatement of the decade. His Mom had never once smoked, but the Coroner, after his autopsy and some research had pronounced it lung cancer, and proceeded to tell him in the email that it was a genetic trait in his family and to take precautions for himself.

The fifty-five minute flight was mercifully short. Upon their arrival at Kiev, Slade stopped at a grocer to buy some materials for supper that night. One thing Emissaries are good at besides delivering Letters, is cooking. It keeps their minds off the job, and MKIII's are only in Colleges. The regular folk still cook.

Slade procured a suite of rooms at a hotel close to the terminal and while cooking dinner, mentally reviewed the things he knew about Herman – his habits, travel possibilities, and skills he might need. Kozel was watching the news, and, by the sound of his jeering at the view screen, Slade guessed that Kozel's favorite sports team had lost. As Slade set the two plates of varenyky and pampushki on the small dining table, his chronometer rang.

"Voice activate, Emissary 0247893. Receive call."

His implant buzzed, and that tinny voice was there again.

"Emissary, this is Control. We have the results of the retinal scan you asked for."

"Yes, Control. And the results?"

"We called as soon as we received the results. Retinal scans picked up Randy Emery Herman in Crimea ten minutes ago. He checked into a hotel – The Hotel Agora. Suite 214, it looks like."

"Kozel!" Slade called into the next room. Kozel popped his head around the short wall between them, eyebrows raised. "Dinner's ready, but then we must get to The Hotel Agora in Crimea. Herman checked in ten minutes ago. Let's eat and run."

"Control, you still with me?" Slade asked, turning his attention back to the call.

"Yes, Emissary. How can we be of service?"

"If Herman moves anywhere besides that Hotel, I need to know immediately, understand?"

"Yes, Emissary. We will notify you if there is a change. Control Out."

The line went dead. Slade turned to Kozel. "Eat. We leave in thirty minutes."

They crammed their supper into their mouths as fast as they could, cleaned up, and then checked out of the hotel.

"How fast can we get to Crimea, Kozel?"

"I'm..." he paused."I'm not sure, Emissary. There were fourteen airports in Crimea at the height of its air travel operations, but since The Great Fire, all fourteen have ceased operations. The only way I know into Crimea is by hover. There is not even rail service anymore. Their independence from the rest of the world government has placed travel strains on everyone – even the Emissaries."

"Right, so we take a hover. How far?"

"Even at top speed, we're still ten and a half hours from Crimea. I can probably get us to the Agora quickly once we're there, but I can't so anything about the travel to Crimea."

Slade looked at his chronometer. It was 23:45. Even if they left in the next fifteen minutes, they'd make Crimea just before noon. That was a huge chunk of time. But a Letter was a Letter, and it had to be delivered.

"Then we had better get moving. We don't have all week.

# CHAPTER FOUR

Siam, December 3, 2308 06:00:05 (T-Minus 02:05:11:06)

Hotaru groaned as the alarm on her chronometer sounded. Was it morning already? She had turned in at 21:00, per regulation, and had fallen asleep quickly. That meant almost nine hours of sleep. Why was she so groggy? She pushed herself from her bed, walking in her tank top and exercise shorts to the washroom to shower.

Retinal scanners in her room activated lights as she entered rooms and turned them off as she left them. Her shower was already running, set at her preferred temperature of forty-one degrees. She disrobed, and entered the steaming shower. She washed quickly, and exited the shower, toweling dry, and then dressing in simple black kimono.

Walking into the kitchen, she found her breakfast of eggs, toast and fresh fruit waiting in the MKIII. It was only missing her glass of orange juice, which she ordered upon removal of the plate from the machine. Plate and glass in hand, she headed to the table to eat.

"Activate viewing screen, channel sixteen twenty-two." She said to her Dwelling. The screen flared to life, and changed from a nature scene to the local news.

"In other news, prominent businessman Bijay Narang was found dead in his home Thursday morning by his daughter. Officials do not suspect foul play, and the coroner is listing the cause of death as Cancer. Narang is widely known for creating the PanaSung Company, which manufactures implantable tracker chips for livestock. Clinical trials began this week on Penal Territory inmates."

"Narang's death will certainly halt the continuation of the trials, but, having one-third of the inmates tagged, data collection will begin next week. Sources from PanaSung say they will try and get Narang's work back up and running as soon as possible."

Hotaru smiled to herself. Another job well done. Scooping the last bite of eggs into her mouth, she picked up her plate, and placed it in the recycling terminal next to the MKIII. Ensuring the seal was closed on the recycler, she headed back into the bedroom, and changed into her workout gear. It was time to prepare for the next Letter.

****

Dressed in her leotard, Hotaru Kogame, Beta 0256773 walked into the gym. They had set the equipment up exactly like she had asked. It had taken her almost two weeks to convince her instructor that this routine would help her in delivering Letters. Even after convincing him, her instructor had to get permission from their superior before allowing Hotaru to attempt this crazy feat. It had taken the College staff almost two hours to position each piece of equipment to Hotaru's exacting specifications.

She adjusted her leotard, and walked to her starting place at the far end of the floor exercise mat. She looked quickly around to make sure no one was watching, and then closed her eyes, seeking her mental center. After three deep breaths, Hotaru took off in a fast sprint toward the center of the mat, diving forward into a round off followed by three back flips.

Her impressive momentum carried her onto the adjacent springboard, where she flew high over the horse, executing several twists and turns in the air. As gravity took hold and she began to fall, she extended her arms forward to grab the bar on the high side of the uneven bars.

Hotaru's body carried her into a series of four full rotations over the bar, and as she slowed down, she began a full routine, including changes from bar to bar while rotating, turning handstands, and a Korbut Flip, from the high to low bar, where she did two more full rotations.

At the zenith of the second rotation, she tucked her knees to her chest, and then thrust her feet straight out in front of her, creating tremendous momentum. As she swung under the bar and headed for the top again, she released and flew across a short distance to a stand-alone high bar.

The high bar, traditionally a men's only apparatus, merely served as a stepping-stone for Hotaru. Using full rotations to gain velocity, she once again flung herself through the air. Her body shot in a feet first beeline to the last piece of equipment she had set up for herself. The two rings stood still as a final challenge in this ultimate routine.

With all the momentum she had built, the biggest challenge she had now was to keep the ring apparatus stable. Her hands found the rings, and gripping them tightly, she allowed her body to go limp. She hung as dead weight, and brought her breathing under control as the apparatus swung slowly to a stop.

Summoning all the reserves she had, she pulled herself up, bringing her hands to waist level. Her shoulder muscles bulged and rippled from the strain, and she exhaled slowly as she lowered herself into the Iron Cross.

Recognized as one of the most difficult skills on the rings, the Iron Cross stood as a symbol of sheer strength. Despite her athleticism, Hotaru clenched her teeth as she fought both her tired muscles and gravity to hold the position in this final challenge. As the pain in her muscles increased, Hotaru slowed her breathing, and once again found her mental center, all the while counting mentally in her head. She had ten seconds left to go.

Breathe in. Nine.

Breathe out. Eight.

Breathe in. Seven.

Breathe out. Six.

Breathe in. Five.

Breathe out. Four.

Breathe in. Three.

Breathe out. Two.

Breathe in. One.

She lowered her arms, sending her legs into motion. She did one final handstand on the rings, a testament to her mental control, and then executed a quadruple somersault dismount, landing solidly on the mat below.

As the final sounds of her landing echoed in the gymnasium, she took two deep breaths and smiled. She had done it! She bent grasping her towel, and began to dab at her forehead. The sound of applause stopped her dead in her tracks. She spun around to see the source of the applause. It was her instructor. She bowed in respect.

"Lao Shi! What are you doing here?"

"You have no need to fear me, Beta 0256773. I was here only to make sure you did not injure yourself. Instead, you have amazed me."

"Thank you, Lao Shi. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to do it, but I could not reach my potential without trying."

"And so you have succeeded. As with all of your studies, you continue to excel. You will make a fine Alpha one day, 0256773." It was as close to enthusiastic praise as she would ever get.

****

In the final stage of her routine, Hotaru was suspended in the Iron Cross. In the years perfecting this move, she was now holding the position for sixty seconds, a feat she was sure no one else could do.

Breathe in. Three.

Breathe out. Two.

Breathe in. One.

She swung through her final movements, and dismounted, with only a single flip and a slightly sloppy landing due to a previous knee injury. She grabbed her towel and began to dry off. No applause this time as the College's gym was empty. It was always empty.

Hotaru dropped her towel, and reached down to pick up her headband.

"Lights off." She commanded the room's AI interface. The room became instantly dark

Affixing the headband over her eyes, she stood in the center of the room, arms limply at her sides, breathing slowly.

She brought her left leg slightly out, raising her hands in the Part The Wild Horse's Mane form. Flowing slowly, she passed through White Crane, Brush Knee, and Play The Lute in her progression through her twenty-four-form Tai Chi routine. Everything was completely still in the room except for Hotaru's graceful moves. Over the next four and a half minutes, Hotaru flowed through her routine, seeking center, and mastering her breathing.

She finished the first set of forms, and accelerated into a faster, more aggressive set based on combat styles. She executed with flawless precision, sometimes coming within five centimeters of equipment as she moved through the forms. She ended with Cross Hands and Closing, and slowly removed her headband. It was soaking wet.

"Lights on."

The lights slowly came on, and Hotaru could see a flashing red light on her Tablet. She had work again. Walking back to her Dwelling, she accessed the Tablet's memory to find out her mission.

# CHAPTER FIVE

The M05, December 4, 2308 03:16:49 (T-Minus 01:04:46:23)

To keep Kozel amused while he strategized on capturing Herman, Slade allowed him to watch his Back To The Future, Part II holo-film. He was completely enthralled. Just like Slade hoped he would be. By the time the holo-film had finished, Kozel had fallen asleep.

At this hour of the early morning, the M05 was deserted, and Slade let the hover's autopilot do what it was meant to do. It allowed him time to formulate a plan. He accessed _iCorps_ ' data banks searching for information on Kozel. If he was coming along on this mission, Slade needed information on him. Slade quickly found a wealth of information on Dmytro Kozel, his wife, Lyuba, and their kids, Vasylyna and Yakiv. He learned that Kozel took bribes to make ends meet, how Lyuba begged him to get out of the system – to take a job in a different field. Slade found the schools that Vasylyna and Yakiv attended – their grades, classes and teachers.

There wasn't anything here that was out of the ordinary. And only the bribes could be used against him. Kozel was a safe ally, for the moment. Finished that task, he consulted his implanted hard drive, analyzing the pages of the newspapers he'd scanned at the Poltava terminal. There wasn't much – the local news in Poltava was pretty dry. Even the Territory pages were relatively bland. Wait a minute. He paused on an article detailing a rumored weapons cache in Crimea.

The writer theorized that Crimea kept its relative independence from the rest of the territories because the Principal had a large weapons cache at her disposal, and she was not afraid to use it. There was a list of six names – people who had "disappeared" because they represented a supposed threat to the Principal's rule.

Was Herman in Crimea for weapons? Was he planning on assassinating the Principal like he had tried in 2299? That made his getting to Crimea that much more urgent. Unfortunately, Slade was still seven plus hours away from him. Assuming Herman stayed at the Agora and didn't move.

Control would let Slade know if he moved, and where. All he could do now was wait. Kozel snored softly. The hum of the hover was a soothing melody. Slade's eyes grew heavy, and he started to doze. He roused himself enough to set the in-hover alarm for eight am. He'd been up for twenty-one hours. It was time to sleep. The last thing Slade saw as he succumbed to the darkness was the steady flash-flash-flash of the white road lines as they passed his window.

Slade awoke to the sound of harsh rapping on his window. He groggily rolled the window down to see we had stopped at a checkpoint on our way. Why hadn't the hover alerted Kozel or myself to the checkpoint?

"Yes?"

The guard looked at him impassively. He said something Slade's chronometer couldn't translate, lowering the bar to block the hover's passage.

Slade was furious. This silly puffed-up border guard thought that he had the right to detain an Emissary? He shook Kozel awake.

"Kozel, tell this pompous jerk that we don't have time for his stupid attitude!"

Kozel fired off some rapid-fire speech, and the conversation continued. After a moment, Kozel turned to Slade

"He says you have no travel documents. He cannot allow you into Crimea.

"Are you kidding me? I'm an Emissary for Pete's sake. I don't need documents. My rank alone is enough to cross any border."

"I'm well aware, Emissary." Kozel turned to the border guard again. More conversation ensued, with the guard looking more and more anxious. After a few more moments, Kozel again turned to Slade.

"I've asked him how much he wants to let us cross. He says Five Hundred Steel Royals.

Slade lost it. "Five Hundred? Are you nuts? I should get out of this hover and kick his sorry border-crossing head in right now. Five Hundred! He's lucky I don't use my Boom Stick!" For emphasis, Slade pulled the Boom Stick from its sheath. The guard paled visibly, but stood firm at his post.

A final round of communication was volleyed back and forth, and Kozel shrugged, hands up in frustration.

"He says he has orders, and to please tell you that he cannot let you pass for less than Five Hundred. He will be killed if he doesn't bring his supervisor the bribe."

Slade paused. He certainly didn't want some mercenary thug to kill this man over a bribe he had no control over, but he also hesitated at the large sum of money that the guard was requesting. Punching a few buttons in quick succession on his chronometer, Slade handed the guard a slip of paper.

"Five Hundred. For the bribe." He said to the guard.

He nodded, then turned away from the gate, which he opened to let us pass. As they drove through the gate, Slade could see the worried look on his face. The guard didn't want to see them again, that was for sure. Slade only hoped that the bribe bought the man enough safety.

_Now to get to The Agora._ Slade thought. He was tired of delays.

"Kozel. I need you to get us to The Agora as quickly as possible." Slade said, getting out of the hover, and walking toward the passenger seat. "It's been almost twelve hours, and though Control told me they'd advise me, I know I'm not the only Emissary delivering."

"With all haste, Emissary." Kozel assured him, shutting the hover's driver's side door.

They sped through the streets of Crimea, sometimes passing so close to the market vendors that Slade could see the look of surprise on their face as they drove past. Kozel twisted and turned, navigating the narrow streets, laneways, and alleys. Makeshift housing jutted from the remains of old stone buildings. Corrugated steel formed roofs and walls meant to shelter the population from the weather. It was quite evident that the Principal of this area was less concerned about the citizens than she was about her own welfare.

They arrived in front of the hotel, and Slade exited the hover, eager to be free from its confines after such a long journey. The moment his boot touched the cracked pavement of the sidewalk, children, begging for scraps of food, spare change, or clothing, bombarded him. Most people feared the change that an Emissary brought, but some people regarded Emissaries as benefactors. He had almost no small coins, but Slade distributed them as evenly as he could, promising the children that he would be back as soon as he could to help. He motioned to Kozel, and together they entered The Agora.

There was a wide, squat man lounging behind the desk as Slade approached. He saw Kozel and sneered, but as soon as he saw Slade, it was all charm.

"Honored Emissary. Welcome to The Agora. We are pleased that you would choose to grace us with your presence. Shall I have a room prepared for you and your...companion?"

"Actually," Kozel began, but Slade cut him off.

"Noble Innkeeper, I regret that I have to decline your offer of such esteemed accommodations. My duties as an Emissary preclude the necessity to stay in a place so well known as The Agora. Indeed, we are looking for an individual. May we count on your assistance?"

"Of course, Emissary. How can I assist you, noble one?"

"We are looking for a man by the name of Randy Emery Herman. I have been informed that he has booked a room here. I have a Letter for him that I must deliver. Can you direct me to his quarters?"

The innkeeper cast a furtive glance at his monitor, and then paused, as if weighing his options.

"Mr. Herman has indeed checked in. His room is on the second floor."

"Fantastic. Can you take us to see him, please?"

"I'm afraid not, Emissary. Mr. Herman has left The Agora early this morning. He did say he would be returning Friday around lunchtime. I believe he had some business with the Principal."

"The Principal? Crap!" Slade turned to Kozel. "We need to move. Let's go."

He bolted to the hover and jumped into the driver's side without waiting to see if Kozel was behind him. As Slade pulled away from the curb, Kozel dove through the open passenger-side door and pulled it closed.

"Not to question you, Emissary, but can you tell me why we are in such a hurry?"

"You mean besides his impending delivery deadline? Herman has, in the past, tried to assassinate the Principal of Alberta Territory. He was ultimately convicted of murdering three government officials."

"And you think he's after the Principal here in Crimea?"

"I wouldn't put it past him. I need the Principal's Office."

"Right. I'm on it."

Kozel activated his chronometer, and dialed the Crimean Embassy. Once connected, he identified himself, and asked to be patched through to the Principal's quarters. When they hesitated, he patched the call to the hover's in-vehicle system. Slade took over.

"This is Emissary Slade Meechan, identity 0247893. I am currently en route to rendezvous with Randy Emery Herman with the mission to deliver a Letter. He has previous convictions for murder related to Principal and government officials. I believe that his purpose in coming to your office is to cause harm to the Principal."

The voice on the other end of the call sounded skeptical.

"But Emissary, the Principal and Mr. Herman are related. He is her cousin. You think that he would assassinate his own family?"

That one took him by surprise. How had he missed _tha_ t fact?

"Are you sure? I'm not trying to question your knowledge, but..."

"The Principal has confirmed it herself. I have no reason to disbelieve the Principal."

"As well you shouldn't. Nonetheless, I am still coming for my original purpose. Will you be able to detain him until I can arrive?"

"As you know, Emissary, any individuals in the Principal's care have immunity from all disciplinary actions, regardless of source. That includes the Letter."

Herman was either very smart, or very foolish. Back in the eighties, a law was passed exempting government officials and their families from the Letter. Continuation of Government was important for society. Herman was clearly exploiting this law for his own benefit.

"You are right again. We don't usually get assignments like Mr. Herman. Thank you for reminding me."

"Is there anything else, Emissary?"

"No. Thank you again."

Slade disconnected the call and punched the hover's dash, creating a small indent in the fiberglass.

"He's related to the Principal? I highly doubt it. Kozel, start digging. We need to determine the veracity of this statement."

Slade punched his own chronometer and waited for the connection. While he waited, he began to hum the tune from "Hey Jude" a track from a group called The Beatles that was recorded almost two hundred and fifty years ago. It was, in his opinion, the greatest song ever recorded.

The call finally connected. The sound transferred to the receiver in his left ear.

"Emissary 0247893, this is Control. How can we be of assistance?"

"Control, I need information. First, I need you to confirm that Randy Emery Herman is related to Principal McDonald."

"We'll look into it. Anything else?"

"That's the main issue. My secondary concern is issuing a Letter to someone under diplomatic protection."

"It can't be done."

"Then I need you to find a way. _iCorps_ wants me to deliver this Letter, and I intend to. I also need all skills I had yesterday uploaded for use immediately."

"Place the hover in auto-drive, and we'll initiate. Not sure what we can do about the immunity issue, though. We'll have to check with Iris."

"Make. It. Happen. Auto on, 0247893 out.

# CHAPTER SIX

Moscow, Ural Territory, December 4, 2308 13:18:19 (T-Minus 00:21:52:52)

Hotaru piloted her hover through the pedestrian-filled streets of Moscow. Snow was piled high along both sides of the street, and people struggled to clear the way for her, recognizing her status as a government official. The snow was forecast to continue all week, but Hotaru was only planning on being here for two days. Her latest target, a doctor, had been sighted at one of the medical dispensaries in downtown Moscow. She had arrived mid-morning, and her stomach let her know it was unpleased with her extended absence from food.

Grabbing a protein pouch from her backpack, Hotaru looked out the window for a landmark. Checking the building beside her, she saw a boarded up studio at 3-ya ulitsa Yamskogo Polya, 2 kopnyc 4. She was close, only two more blocks to the hostel she was to stay at. She planned to use her first day in the city to do recon - gather information and intel she would use to capture and deliver a Letter to Doctor Husain Abujamal. His work was needed elsewhere. The second day would be entirely for the implementation of her plan to, and ultimately the delivery of The Letter.

The windshield wipers swiped rhythmically at the window, clearing her line of sight through the market. She deftly steered around a couple who had just exited a bakery, unaware of her presence. All around her, the earth colored bricks of the houses and the deep slate of the roof tiles showed Hotaru a vista of buildings built by people who worked hard for their earnings.

She stopped her hover at the hostel's address. Getting out of the hover, she scanned the street, looking for any sign of danger. When she was satisfied there was none, she pulled her backpack out of the car, slung it over her shoulder, and entered the building. It smelled of unwashed people, and years of poor maintenance. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she approached the check-in desk, which itself looked like it needed a coat of paint several decades ago.

Approaching the desk, she could see a man with wild, unkempt white hair looking up at her. He was in an undershirt, and she could see signs that his last meal involved lots of gravy. When he spoke, his voice was like gravel rubbing on sandpaper.

" Good afternoon. Welcome to the hostel. How long will you need a room?"

" Three days please."

"Will you require food and drink?"

"Yes, please. Are you able to give me directions?"

The innkeeper leered up at Hotaru, who was much younger than he was. She could only guess what was on his mind. It wouldn't matter, though. If he made a move toward her, she'd snap his wrist before he got within thirty centimeters of any part of her body.

"I can. Where are you looking to go?"

"I need to find a doctor."

His expression changed imperceptibly, but Hotaru caught the look: fear. Fear of disease and sickness. She quickly added:

"I'm not sick, he's a friend of mine.

At this, the innkeeper relaxed, and asked for his name. Hotaru handed him her Tablet with Abujamal's name on it. The innkeeper brightened, laughing, and gesticulated wildly, pointing down the street.

"This doctor friend of yours, he has an office down the street two blocks. You picked a good hostel, yes?"

Hotaru nodded, smiling herself. This time she had gotten _really_ lucky.

The innkeeper handed her a key.

"Room number 6. Top of the stairs, last room on the right down the hall. Enjoy your stay, Emissary."

Hotaru froze, looking at the innkeeper, who just raised a single finger to his lips in the universal sign for _I won't tell anyone, your secret is safe with me_. She nodded her thanks, and then took off upstairs to get settled for reconnaissance.

It took a few seconds to get the key to work in the lock, but as she opened the door, Hotaru Kogame was surprised. Behind the scratched, faded door was a room that rivaled a palatial dwelling. A huge four-poster bed dominated the west wall. A pristine white canopy adorned the top of the bed, and a bedspread of gold, scarlet and black covered the mattress. There was at least a dozen pillows near the headboard, and the bed had been turned down, as if expecting a guest.

Two large brown fabric chairs flanked the bay window which looked out onto an impressive street scene, showing factories, retail shops, and residential dwellings alike. Though only on the second floor, the view left Hotaru with the impression of being much higher up. She plopped her backpack on the bed, sending pillows bouncing to the ground around the bed, and headed into the washroom. She had travelled a whole day. It was time to get clean.

A large tub took up the left hand side of the expansive washroom, which was appointed in ivory and gold. A glass enclosed shower stood beside the toilet and bidet. Scarlet towels and cloths that matched the linens on the bed were arranged neatly on the white marble counter. She began to undress, setting the shower's digital temperature gauge to forty-one degrees, just like her shower back at The College.

She set a towel on the floor, then grabbed a bath sheet, and hung it on a hook beside the shower. Opening the glass door, she stepped into the steaming water with a sigh. Quickly washing her hair, she applied conditioner, and reached up to grab a rose-shaped shower poof from an alcove just above above her sight line. There was a selection of soaps in glass bottles on a shelf at waist height, each decorated with a picture of the main scent contained within the cleaner. She chose one with a bundle of brown pods and a pale yellow-orange flower: vanilla.

As she lathered up, she kept mental score of the various scars and injuries earned in her career as an Emissary \- a five centimeter scar near her left ankle from a bad fall during a chase where her Target had jumped off a second story roof, and her after him. She saw the near-imperceptible mark on her right knee from reconstructive surgery. A crazed man had shot her while trying to escape. The bullet had shattered her patella instantly, and caused major damage to the cartilage behind it. It hadn't stopped her from Delivering.

Despite all the medical attention she received at The College, she still walked with a slight limp when tired or injured. She hated it, but if The College couldn't fix it, no one could. Next came the memory of a broken pelvis from when a woman had hit her with her hover while trying to protect her husband. Again, the unstoppable Hotaru Delivered, but at a huge cost. She had missed her quota that year by three Letters. There was no punishment, but only because she had spent nearly three months in The College's medical bay.

From the waist up, she was nearly perfect, as far as injuries went, anyway. For some reason, people figured if they could stop her moving, they were safe. They were wrong. Hotaru Delivered, no matter the personal cost. Washing her left arm, she was careful to avoid the chronometer interface chip implanted into her forearm, just above the wrist. The actual device hooked into this chip using nano technology to allow her access to communication, scheduling, and mapping interfaces that mirrored the abilities of her Tablet.

Rinsing her arm in the soft stream of hot water, she transferred the poof to her other hand, and washed her right arm. As she came to her elbow, she paused, looking at the soft tissue of the crook of her elbow, and the small six-pointed scar from the implantation of her BESE Chip.

****

She remembered the curious looks from the residents as she walked through the hallways of the dwelling in the Lat Phrao district of Bangkok. _What was this newcomer doing in their building_? This was her final test before her ascension to Alpha. In her hands was a Tablet - no Target information this time, only a map showing the route to a GPS tracker on her destination. She walked down the long hallway, passing dozens of shoji doors on her left and right.

The Tablet chirped steadily, as she closed in on her Target, and the countdown timer in the lower left corner of the Tablet read five minutes. This would be easy, she thought. I'll have time to spare. She looked up, seeing a shoji door in front of her. She pocketed the Tablet, and reached out, sliding the door to the left, and stepped into the room.

Slumped over in a chair was a man dressed in a business suit. His tie had been loosened, and the top button of his white shirt was undone. His shoes were off, scattered haphazardly in front of the chair. His dark hair was messy, and a bottle of liquor rested on its side, empty. The glass tumbler had fallen to the floor, shattering upon impact with the slate tile floor. _This_ was her test? A drunk man who was mostly unconsious? _How was this a test?_ Hotaru wondered. And yet, there was something familiar about the man.

She cautiously moved closer to the man. A double chirp from the Tablet drew her attention, and she pulled it out, the Target's dot had been replaced by a flashing red "X". This was the man, no doubt about it - her Tablet confirmed it.

"Sir? Can you hear me?" Hotaru asked. He grunted in response.

"Sir, my name is Hotaru Kogame. I am an Emissary, and I have come to Deliver a Letter. Do you understand me?"

The man grunted again, shaking his head in indifference. The effects of the alcohol had subdued him to the point where he no longer cared.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to take this Tablet. Can you do that?"

One hand lifted from the man's lap in response. _Give me the Tablet_.

A triple chirp, and Hotaru checked the chronometer. One minute. Activating the fingerprint and retinal scanners, she stepped closer to the man, and placed the Tablet in his hand. He took the Tablet into both of his hands, and the fingerprint scanner chirped. A message appeared on the screen, but the man seemed not to see it. She would have to help him.

Bending down, she knelt beside the man, helping him to steady the Tablet. The screen read: _Look Here_. She lifted the man's head, and looked straight into the eyes of her father. She froze, mouth open in horror. Not her father!

"NO! Father, no! Not you! Why you? Why? Why? WHY?"

How could they do this? She thought of a dozen ways to make an escape for them both, but they would be hunted for the rest of their lives.

Thirty seconds.

Hotaru took the tablet, staring at it, trying to activate it for herself. Nothing. She placed it back in her father's hands, and tilted it toward her when the _Look Here_ screen was active. She saw the flash of light from the laser. Hope! She could save her father! Still, there was no effect.

Twenty seconds.

Screaming in frustration, she smashed the Tablet onto the slate floor, but it bounced. Not even a scratch. Again and again she tried, with the same result. Tears began to flow in streams down her cheeks, and her breath came in gasps between sobs.

"Daddy, no! It can't be you! Why you!"

Ten seconds.

"Daddy! I'll save you, I promise!"

Through blurry vision, she accessed the Tablet's menus, searching for a way to verify the identity of the intended Target. There had to be a mistake. Every answer came back her father.

Five seconds.

Time slowed instantly. Hotaru could hear every one of her heartbeats, every breath, every sob. She could feel the individual tears as the fell down her cheeks. She looked at her father and saw resignation in his eyes behind the glaze of the alcohol. She would NOT give up!

Four seconds.

_I'll figure this out. I can save you!_ She frantically tapped the Tablet, accessing menu after menu, program after program in her hyper-aware state in an attempt to shut the Tablet down.

Three seconds. A warning beep from the Tablet that felt like it lasted a minute. She screamed again, a wail of pure despair.

She had accessed every file on the Tablet. There was nothing. No back door. No emergency fail-safe. No turning back. She smashed it one more time against the floor, hoping in vain that it would break _this_ time. She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned her head and looked into her father's eyes.

Two seconds.

Her father took the Tablet from her. A chirp from the fingerprint recognition program. A flash of color from the screen.

One second.

He looked down at the Tablet and froze, falling off the chair and into Hotaru's lap. The Tablet fell out of his hand and skittered away under the table. It let out four quick chirps, and the screen turned green.

Cradling her father's head in her lap, Hotaru wept. Huge cries escaped her throat, and her back spasmed with wracking sobs that could no longer be contained. She wasn't even aware when the two burly men in white medical scrubs entered the room and closed on her. They reached down, helping her to her feet, which would not support her. She fell to her knees, arms held up by the men.

"Beta 0256773. We need you to come with us. It seems that there is a case of smallpox in this building, and we need to vaccinate you against any possibility of infection."

"LEAVE ME ALONE" She screamed at them, twisting away from their grip.

She fell to the ground again, and started crawling back to her father. She noticed small reddish spots on his arms that weren't there a minute ago. She looked back to the men who had raised masks over their mouths, and donned goggles. Another look to her father showed that he was sweating, and more red spots appeared on his face.

She slowly rose to her feet, tears coursing down her cheeks. There was a deep pit within her that would never be filled. An empty spot where her father had been for the past twenty-one years of her life. The men led her out of the dwelling and down the hall to the elevator.

Hotaru Kogame was led down a sterile pale green hallway in the basement of The College. Naked bulbs hung from a wire strung the length of the ceiling. It was cool down here, and she could smell the damp odor of wet concrete. She should be happy, she supposed. She had achieved Alpha status, and wasn't that what it was all about? All the years of schooling, training, and pretend missions? She would now move into The College. She was taken care of now for the rest of her life. Any money that she earned from her duties was hers to spend as she saw fit. But at what cost? She would never see her father again.

The men escorted her into a room outfitted with a bed, and racks and shelves containing bottles filled with various colored liquids. A woman was waiting for her, syringe in hand. The syringe was filled with a red liquid that looked a lot like blood. Hotaru stopped, dragging her heels, but the strength of the men was no match for her in this condition.

The man on her right tore her shirt at the shoulder, ripping the sleeve clean off of the garment. He twisted her arm, exposing her bicep and forearm to the doctor. She took Hotaru's wrist gently in her hand, and looked her straight in the eyes. As she did so, she raised the syringe, and Hotaru could see the tip of the needle had six barbs.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Beta 0256773. This is going to hurt. A lot. But afterward, you'll feel much better."

The doctor plunged the needle into the crook of Hotaru's arm and she screamed in agony. Her body's natural reaction had been to bring her forearm up to her bicep in an attempt to protect the tender area that had been violated. Instead, it forced the needle deeper into the crook of her arm, and she watched, still screaming, as the doctor depressed the plunger. As the syringe was withdrawn, blood began to pool, and the doctor quickly pressed gauze to the wound.

Satisfied, the doctor headed out of the room, turning back to the two men.

"Make sure she's good. If not, you know what to do."

They nodded. Hotaru stopped screaming. Her face went blank, but the man closest to her noticed a glint in her eye that wasn't there before. As the door shut, Hotaru heard the deadbolt lock, and knew what was next. She moved with lightning fast reflexes to the back wall, and grabbed the oxygen cylinder. It was the last thing the two men saw.

Covered in spatters of blood, Alpha 0256773, Hotaru Kogame exited the room and walked confidently out of the building.

***

Wrapping the towel around her body, Hotaru walked back into the bedroom, and pulled a kimono from her pack. Swapping it for the towel, she fastened the belt and walked to the window. She watched as the snow continued to blanket the roofs of the buildings around the hostel.

Night was coming quickly, and she needed to make initial contact with Abujamal. Drying her hair quickly with the towel, she dressed, layering for the cold temperatures outside. She fished a parka from the pack, and donned it, feeling the fur of the hood tickle her cheeks. Next came fur-lined gloves, and a pair of mirrored sunglasses. While it seemed silly to wear sunglasses at night, this particular pair had some upgrades that would allow Hotaru to monitor Abujamal's vitals and attach a tracker dot.

As she exited her room, she found a note had been slipped under her door while she had been showering. She bent, picking up the paper and flipping it over to read the message:

Hope you like the accommodations. It is available for your use beyond the two days we agreed upon at no additional charge to you or The College. Consider it a favor from one who was on the inside.

Igor 0217669

"Well I'll be darned," Hotaru muttered to herself. She tucked the note into a pocket on the inside of her parka, and headed out to find Doctor Husain Abujamal.

# CHAPTER SEVEN

Principal's Quarters, December 4, 2308 14:23:57 (T-Minus 00:21:39:15)

Principal Lissa McDonald strode across the carpeted room that she used as her office. Herman had told her that the Emissary would be coming, but she had not prepared for it. When she had asked how Herman knew he was a target, he had replied that it "was just a hunch".

Herman had gotten her to get the Crimean Protectorate to declare them related, thus granting him immunity from The Letter. While in principle she disagreed with the concept of evading a Letter, it was a small price to pay for Herman's help.

Randy Emery Herman was, after all, a dealer. In seceding from the rest of "Washington's Dream," Crimea was the first province to establish independence. But it had come at a price. The majority of citizens in Crimea were now in the later half of their lives, and the traditional work done by the young and strong was now being done by those in the middle portion of their lives. In fact, there was a gap between the ages of fourteen and twenty-three where the only residents were the infirm.

Herman provided people, specifically breeding stock. Imported by force or lured with promises of wealth and land from other provinces, these young men and women - some as young as seventeen – were brought to Crimea to help re-establish the population. The fact that Crimea had a population of less that half a million inhabitants was the greatest state secret kept since that ancient ruler Clinton hid Monica from the lights and cameras of the news stations.

Herman's latest shipment had arrived by sea entering Azov harbor a few hours ago. Fourteen containers said to contain fourteen individuals apiece were waiting on _The Cannon_ for inspection and approval. This delay by the Emissary would make Herman rather anxious. He didn't get paid for people who died on the trip.

"Can't you just dismiss him, Lissa?" Herman asked. "You are, after all, the Principal."

"I have to accord him the respect due his position, _Mr. Herman_ ," she said emphasizing his title and last name. "I can't just make him go away without seeing him. He could file a complaint, and then we'd both be in trouble."

"So then what do we do? We certainly can't let him occupy hours of our time when we have precious cargo in the harbor, now can we?"

"He won't be here long, I assure you."

She stepped behind her desk, and sat at the ornate wooden chair that was there. She pushed a green button on a terminal that sat upon the desk, indicating that she would receive the Emissary. Herman sat in one of two chairs on the opposite side of the desk, steepling his hands in front of him.

"Are you going to stay here? That's rather bold, don't you think?"

"Why should I be scared? I have full diplomatic immunity, don't I? He couldn't lay a Boom Stick on me even if I threw your chair at him. I am completely safe. In fact, I think I might-"

There was a tap at the door.

"Enter." Principal McDonald said, assuming her official air.

Two burly men with salt and pepper hair and mustaches to match escorted Kozel and Slade into the room. Their uniforms may have fit years ago, but bulk had won the fight against buttons, and the men had their jackets open, revealing stained white shirts beneath.

Slade's Boom Stick had been confiscated against protocol, but he remained silent till they approached the desk. Once delivered, the two guards hastily left the room – no doubt to finish their midday meal that had been interrupted.

Principal McDonald was younger than Slade had pictured. She was in her late forties, with auburn hair and flashing green eyes. Her smile as we approached was genuine, indicating the chairs in front of the desk.

"Good afternoon, Emissary. I had heard you were coming, but your presence is a surprise in my borders. I trust that your travels were without incident?"

"Indeed." He lied. "We had the opportunity to speak with a couple of your citizens while we have been here. It seems that your Territory benefits from your rule."

"And what brings you to this tiny corner of the world?"

"Official business, I'm afraid." Slade said, pointing to Herman. "But we seem to have reached a stalemate. I have a Letter that can't be delivered."

"That does seem to be a problem. Have you checked with Control? Seeing as the Letter is issued from their office, surely they can rectify the situation?"

"And there lies the rub. Control has no evidence of your relation to Mr. Herman. It is your word against the _iCorps_ computers. While I'm inclined to believe you, Principal, it has been said that computers are infallible, and the relation seems a touch too coincidental for me."

Her smile vanished instantly, and her easy green eyes became as hard as steel.

"Are you suggesting that I would harbor an individual that is slated to receive a Letter? That's a capital offence! I would lose my Principaldom, not to mention my life. That's a pretty bold suggestion, Emissary."

"No suggestion at all, ma'am. I just find that the fact that a convicted murderer that is slated for a Letter being related to a Principal is a touch coincidental. You drew the conclusion yourself. Feeling a touch of guilt, ma'am?"

She stood, her chair scraping the desk as it was pushed back.

"Emissary, you are pushing the boundaries of decorum. I invited you to an audience at your request, and you have received it. It has finished. You may leave."

Slade stood, and bowed, then dragged Kozel out of the room with him. As soon as they were out of the office, Kozel started to laugh hysterically.

"You've got a pair of stones, Emissary." He said between fits of laughter. "Telling the Principal that she's harboring a fugitive without actually accusing her? You're lucky all she did was throw us out."

"I wasn't worried, Kozel. The same protection that affords Herman the luxury to sit in that office while I have a Letter for him, allows me a little leeway when dealing with officials, and she knew it."

"So what now? Herman's still in that office. He's probably smirking his head off because he knows we can't touch him, and you've still got a deadline."

Slade checked his chronometer.

"I've still got forty-four hours. We'll think of something.

# CHAPTER EIGHT

Moscow, Ural Territory, December 4, 2308 19:08:02 (T-Minus 00:16:03:09)

As she walked in the cold evening air, Hotaru marveled at the vitality of the city. Even after most working people were done their shifts, the streets bustled with shoppers, students, and couples out walking. She passed market stalls selling everything from clothes to jewelry to the most incredibly good smelling foods. People chatted amiably everywhere, and she could also hear music coming from one of the stalls not too far away, the sound of the balalaika and gusli mixing with the speech to create a melody.

One particular food vendor caught her eye - and her nose. The tiny, wrinkled lady behind the bright red and yellow banners was cooking lamb. Hotaru could smell the jasmine and thyme used to spice the meat, and the tomatoes that were simmering in a pot nearby. She stopped to examine the selection of food available, and then pointed to lamb, rice and what looked like homemade bruschetta.

Whistling happily to herself, the lady assembled portions of each on a pita that also served as the plate. Hotaru felt and heard her stomach grumble in anticipation. Walking to the end of the stall, she fished in her pocket, pulling out ten Steel Royals in coin. There was a bin of bottled water in ice, and Hotaru grabbed one, adding another two to her pile of coins.

The wrinkled lady passed the pita-plate to Hotaru who offered the coins in exchange for the food. The lady waved them off, smiling. Hotaru looked at her, a frown of puzzlement crossing her face. In response, the lady pointed at her parka which had the _iCorps_ government logo on it. _Membership has its privileges_ , Hotaru thought. She smiled at the lady, and gave a half-bow of respect. Turning to find a spot to sit, Hotaru silently placed the coins beside the till box and walked to the nearest bench, a few paces away. Abujamal's office was half a block up the street, easy to monitor from here.

Happily munching away at her supper, she scanned the crowd, mentally gathering information about the citizens of Moscow. While the citizens all dressed similar, parkas, hats, and mitts for the weather, she began to notice a difference in the way they spoke to another. It didn't take long before she was able to distinguish the laborers from the professionals. She uncapped the water, taking a swig. Abujamal's door opened, and a tall, blonde-haired East Indian man stepped into the street, shutting the door behind him.

She casually picked up her Tablet, snapping a quick picture. It chirped twice, and the heads up display built into her sunglasses activated, superimposing a green checkmark over the picture's head. The image shifted to the left lens, and data began to appear in the right lens - name, birth date, height, and profession. It was Abujamal, that was for sure. And his office was now empty. It was hers for the taking, but she would wait a few minutes, just to make sure he didn't forget anything. That gave her time to finish her supper.

The benefit of having a pita for a plate meant that there was no waste, and Hotaru enjoyed every morsel. She finished her water, and deposited the bottle in a recycling receptacle on the way to Abujamal's Office. She crossed the street, mingling with the Muscovites, hearing their speech as they chattered to each other. It was soothing. A man tipped his hat to her, and she smiled at him, blushing.

_Wait. A. Minute_. She moved her sunglasses to the tip of her nose, looking over the frame. Igor looked back at her again, and smiled, offering her a wink. He placed a finger to his lips again, and chuckled as he turned back to the crowd, and disappeared almost instantly. As she pushed the sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, she activated the mode which turned them to thermal vision glasses. Glancing up the street, there were no heat readings coming from Abujamal's office. No, wait. There was one - a small one, with a tail. It was a cat. Nothing to worry about.

Another quick push where the glasses met her nose, and her view changed to an x-ray version of the world. Skeletons wearing the outlines of hats and carrying the outlines of briefcases passed by her. She glanced at her chronometer. It was time to move. She mounted the two steps to Abujamal's office, and looked at the locking mechanism for the door. With her glasses in this mode, she could see the inner workings of the tumbler, and she picked the lock easily, entering the office.

The cat came bounding from the back room to see who had come into the office. Hotaru knelt down, offering her hand to the cat. The cat sniffed her hand and after a moment's pause, nuzzled its head against Hotaru's knee. A quick scratch on the back was all Hotaru had time for, and she was up and moving toward the back room from which the cat had come. She switched off the glasses, and placed them atop her head.

The hallway leading to Abujamal's office was dark, but a sliver of light emanated from beneath the doorway ahead. She listened at the door, but there was no sound at all. She tested the knob, and it turned with a small squeak that sounded like thunder in the empty house. She swung the door open slowly and stepped gingerly into the room.

Organized chaos was the best way to describe his office. Stacks of books were piled in every corner of the room. A large wood desk and black steel chair dominated the center of the room. Papers covered every inch of the desk, and there were more piles of books near the desk's front legs. A cork board had a map of Moscow tacked to it, and frantic lines darted out of the city to circles that bordered subdivisions and townhouse complexes. Paper was tacked to the wall beside the cork board, and Hotaru could make out some of the words through the dust that covered the paper and the filing cabinets beside it.

In a room so chaotic, the dust caught her attention. She took off her jacket and gloves, placing on the back of the chair. Being careful not to disturb the dust, she analyzed the paper. She could make out a few words: _Heart Disease, Smallpox, Cancer_. And some dates: _2147, 2198, 2277_. Lines connected the words to the dates, but there seemed to be no logical pattern to the connection. The first filing cabinet had three drawers, each labeled with one of the words from the paper. The dates were missing. The second filing cabinet had no labels on the drawers at all. How did they fit together? Did she dare open the drawers? _Not now_. She thought. She quickly took pictures of the charts, and papers tacked to the cork board and the wall.

She turned back to the desk, looking for a planner or calendar to see what Abujamal had planned for tomorrow. Not finding any paper record, she accessed his computer terminal. As it came to life, she came to a login screen. The user name was already entered, but the password box was empty. Hotaru sighed, and pulled her Tablet from her pocket. Accessing the menu, she selected the _CrackerJack_ application, and connected the Tablet to Abujamal's computer. The Tablet would get into the computer for her.

The Tablet screen changed to a digital clock that began to count down. Five minutes. She set the Tablet on the desk, and began to search the papers for a clue to Abujamal's schedule for tomorrow. A man who lived in this level of chaos usually scribbled notes to himself to remember important things.

Moving papers around on the desk, Hotaru finally found a scrap of paper that had been buried under some medical magazines with articles on Cancer and Chicken Pox. The note read: _Remember to read magazine articles after Mrs. Popov at one o'clock_. There it was. Abujamal would be in his office at one o'clock. Checking her chronometer, she verified that it fell within the time limit for this Delivery. It did, with about forty-five minutes to spare. She'd just come about quarter past, and wait.

She put the note back, and was about to move the magazines back when another note taped to one of the magazines caught her eye: _Cancer cured for years. Why are people getting Cancer?_ Hotaru glanced at the cover of the magazine. The headline read: _ADVANCED DETECTION TOOLS FOR CANCER PATIENTS DEVELOPED_. Hotaru turned back to the cork board tracing the line from Cancer to 2277. That was almost thirty years ago. She was about to get up and head to the filing cabinet when her Tablet chirped, bringing her attention back to the task at hand.

The login screen had disappeared, and she now saw a screen with a picture of a rainforest, leaves still wet from a recent rainstorm. Icons along the bottom of the screen allowed quick access to a variety of programs, but Hotaru selected _iCalendar_ , and waited for it to load. The day's events were listed on the left hand side of the screen, with future events on the right. There was the one-o'clock appointment for tomorrow. And the block of time Abujamal had reserved for his reading. And another note: _If Cancer cured, why did two thousand people die from it in Moscow last year?_ She would have to have a discussion with Abujamal tomorrow.

She copied the files to her Tablet for further investigation and quickly logged out, disconnecting her Tablet from the computer. She arranged the papers on the desk to a close approximation to they way they were when she had entered the room, and grabbed her parka and gloves. As a last minute thought, she scooped up the magazine with the note attached to it. Shutting the door as she exited the office, Hotaru bundled up and headed back to the hostel.

# CHAPTER NINE

Hotel Agora, Ukraine, December 4, 2308 18:41:12 (T-Minus 00:17:22:00)

Slade and Kozel headed back to The Agora. It was as good a lodging as any, and the Innkeeper seemed more than happy to have an Emissary under his roof. Slade had stopped on the way and purchased some food packages for the children, and gave them each one Steel Royal. He knew in the grand scheme of things, it was the equivalent of a drop of rain in the ocean, but he wanted to help.

Over dinner, they discussed strategy. There was little they could do while Herman was with McDonald. They had to get him out of that office – out of Crimea, actually.

"Any idea what he's _actually_ doing there? He's not eating tea and crumpets, that's for damn sure." Kozel stated flatly.

"I'd agree. Hey. I just thought of something." Slade tapped his head. "I've had my memory implant cataloguing everything since we arrived – streets, hovers, people – everything. I just realized that there are no young people in Crimea. Like none. Remember the guards? They were old and out of shape."

"I had noticed that. I wonder where the young ones are. You would think that they'd have the younger, stronger ones keeping guys like us at bay, instead of the old out of shape ones."

"Exactly. So where _are_ all the young people?"

"There _are_ young people. Remember those kids in the street today? _They're_ young. But there's no one from like ten to thirty-five years old. I've got a terminal. I'll start digging. You said you were scanning newspaper articles? Do you store them?"

"Yeah, I do. In five year increments. I'll get on it."

For the next two and a half hours, they scanned the net, papers, news and holo signals to find any information on the apparent lack of youth in Crimea. They found missing persons reports and lots of obituaries, but nothing substantial – at least not on the surface.

Slade was just about ready to pack it in, having scanned all the files in his drive when Kozel popped in from the next room.

"Emissary! I think I might have something!"

"Really? What is it, Kozel?" Slade stood, and walked into the adjacent room.

"Look here," Kozel said, pointing to his terminal screen. "There used to be a mine in Crimea forty years ago."

"Used to be? Did it run out of resources?"

"Quite the opposite – there were enough resources for at least fifty more years of mining."

"So..."

"The youth and young adults did all the mining. Kids as young as six were working shifts in the mine, procuring silver and ore for use in the Territory. When you turned fifty, you retired."

"Where did they go?"

"They didn't. They're still in the mine. It collapsed twenty years ago, killing everyone inside. There were over ten thousand deaths."

"I've never heard of that. You'd think that would make the news."

"You _would_ think. How long has McDonald been Principal?"

"This is her third ten year term. Apparently she has the popular vote."

"Or the public is terrified of her. Do you think she had anything to do with the collapse?"

"I'll look into it. But if all the able-bodied people were in the mine when it collapsed, where did the kids come from?

"That is a very good question. They sure didn't walk here on their own. And, if they _were_ born in the Territory, who are their parents? The guards and other people we've seen are _way_ too old to be having children."

" _iCorps_ would have a fit if they knew sixty-somethings were having kids. They've outlawed kids after forty for over four decades."

"It sounds like we need to visit the Principal's Office again. This is going to be an interesting meeting."

"And we need to do it quick. Herman can't catch wind of this, or he's gonna steer her in the direction he wants, I know it. Not to mention the fact that I only have thirty-four hours left to deliver the Letter."

"What's the plan, Emissary?"

"Right now, we need to rest. It's going to be an early morning, and I don't think Herman and McDonald are going to be too pleased to see us before breakfast."

"Anything I can do before I sleep?"

"Yeah. Get me the blueprints to McDonald's Office."

"I thought you were going to ask for something difficult, Emissary." Kozel said with a wide grin. "You'll have them shortly."

Slade saved the blueprints to his drive and began to plan. The front entry was easy enough to get by. If the two that escorted them today were the best McDonald had, Slade wouldn't even need his Boom Stick. Stealth may gain some additional information that blunt force may not, especially if Herman was in the room, so he poured over the prints.

There was a skylight directly over McDonald's office. That would be the easiest entry point, but the challenge became getting to the roof. Slade accessed his drive, scanning for pictures of the office. When he found some, he smiled to himself: there were fully grown oak trees beside the building. Roof access solved. Slade sent copies of the pictures to the viewing screen in the main living area for tomorrow's briefing.

When he consulted the blueprints again, Slade discovered something that gave him pause: there were cameras on the roof as well as pressure sensors next to the skylight. As he puzzled through bypassing the sensors, Slade began to hum to himself. After a few minutes of humming and thinking, the answer was no closer to him. They might have to take the front door approach after all.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad," Slade sang softly to myself. "Take a sad song and make it better..."

Wait a minute. Was the answer really that easy? Slade quickly accessed his drive again, searching for schematics for the pressure sensors. He didn't know who manufactured them, but the principle was sound across all manufacturers – they would be set for a certain pressure on the glass or surrounding area. Slade just needed to be lighter than the setting.

The cameras were no problem. He would use his tattoo to mimic the scene behind him. His drive could feed images to the tattoo processing unit and his skin would adapt. It would be a slow, painful trek across the roof, but it would work. The last thing he needed to do before sleep was learn a new skill: Acrobatics. The ability to jump, tumble and roll was going to come in handy.

Slade accessed the viewing terminal and navigated to the SKATE program.

When he got his skills from _iCorps_ , they were transferred to his drive by Control and given the appropriate expiration date. They handled all the financial worries. But sometimes the skills ran out too soon, and Slade was stuck. He wanted no chance of any malfunctions.

SKATE loaded, and Slade proceeded to select _Acrobatics, Aerial Acrobatics_ , and _Gymnastics_. He'd always been a big proponent of over-achieving. He set them to download while he slept. After providing his payment information, Slade double-checked his order.

Requested: Acrobatics, Aerial Acrobatics and Gymnastics Requested Skill Time frame: 24 Hours.

Cost: 1K SR

Download Time: 7 hours, 34 Minutes

Accept? Y/N

It looked good on his end, and the thousand Steel Royals would be worth it if he got Herman. Slade accepted the transaction, exited SKATE, put the viewing screen to sleep, and then headed to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a _long_ day.

# CHAPTER TEN

Igor's Hostel, Ural Territory, December 5, 01:02:03 (T-Minus 00:10:09:08)

The full moon shone brightly in the Moscow night sky. The last of the vendor's lights had been extinguished over two hours ago, and silence filled the once bustling market street. Snow covered the streets, reflecting the moon's light, turning the usually dark square into a beacon of light. On the east side of the street, one window was lucky to receive more moonlight than the rest. On the second floor of the hostel, the light from the full moon shone through the window of the room being used by Hotaru Kogame.

Hotaru tossed and turned in the king-size bed in her room. Rapid movements of her eyes beneath closed eyelids indicated she was dreaming, but her outward actions told that it was not a pleasant dream. The sheets and duvet had long since been kicked to the floor, and her pajamas were soaked with sweat, her hair plastered to her forehead.

Two men held her as the lady came closer with the six-pointed syringe

"No!" she moaned, thrashing left and right on the mattress.

She felt the sleeve torn from her right arm. As the sleeve slipped over her hand, she wrenched it free from the second man's grip.

Her right arm came up over her head, and then slammed against the mattress.

The man grabbed her arm, and forced it back down by her side, exposing the tender flesh of the crook of her arm. The syringe was jabbed into her arm near the elbow.

Her right arm flexed, and a scream of pure horror tore from her mouth, echoing off the walls of the bedroom.

She was suddenly calm, and dropped her arms to her side, turning to the first guard. His face was wrong, like it was a wax mask that was melting.

Hotaru's arm returned to the mattress, and her head turned to the left. Her face registered fear, and a low moan escaped her throat.

She turned to the second guard. His face and neck were covered with small little bumps that made his skin look like that of a reptile. She tried to back up, but she was against the wall.

Turning her head to the right, Hotaru pushed into the mattress, trying to escape an enemy only she saw.

The two men grabbed her, dragging her behind them as she struggled for freedom. They were too strong. The three of them went through a doorway into a room full of people in various states of decay. She could see Abujamal's cork board and papers on a wall at the far end of the room. The two men turned, exiting the room, shutting the door behind them. The seams of the doorway disappeared and there was a solid wall with no way out. The people in the room crowded around her, reaching for her.

"Help Us!"

They crowded in around her, pushing her to the floor. The last thing she saw was a sea of faces as they piled on top of her. She screamed.

Hotaru sat bolt upright, eyes wide, breathing heavily. The least vestiges of her scream echoed in the room.

Hotaru rubbed the sweaty hair out of her eyes, and took a quick look around the room. Everything was where it was supposed to be - all except the sheets, apparently. Recalling the details of her dream, she remembered a hospital with pale green walls. Being dragged down a hallway by two men as naked bulbs flitted past overhead. A six-pointed syringe. A room with no door or window as people crowded around her with oozing lesions and skin so grey it looked like cement. She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands, and brushed her hair back over the top of her head _. What was she dreaming about?_ Standing from the bed, she headed into the washroom, and programmed the shower.

As the water cascaded over her, she remembered the note on the magazine in Abujamal's office. _Cancer cured for years_. What was he talking about? Cancer was still around. Her mother had passed away from Cancer ten years ago. What were the circles on the map for? So many questions. Maybe she would get to Abujamal's before the one o'clock appointment and ask him a couple questions.

Feeling calmer, she shut off the shower, and toweled off. She placed her pajamas and undergarments in the laundry bin. They would be ready for tomorrow. She wrapped her kimono around her body and made the bed. Unable to sleep from the memories of the nightmarish visions, she grabbed the magazine she pilfered from Abujamal's office, sat in the high back chair, and propped her feet on top of the heat register.

She turned to the feature article: _ADVANCED DETECTION TOOLS FOR CANCER PATIENTS DEVELOPED_. It was written by some doctor she had never heard of, but she paid that no attention. There was a ton of medical jargon that Hotaru couldn't understand, but the gist of the article indicated that there were new genetic tests that could be run on patients that would tell if a patient was pre-determined to have certain types of cancers.

The tests were more successful on certain types of cancers, like lung, and ovarian, for example, and less successful on prostate and skin cancers. The test involved having a chip implanted in the patient's hip, and monitoring the information sent back over a period of two months. Data was then gathered, and the chip biodegraded, becoming natural human waste.

Near the bottom of the right hand page, there was a graph showing the potential of saved lives by using the early detection program: nearly two million. There was a line drawn in felt pen at a level representing fifty deaths. In neat block letters beside the line, someone (Abujamal, Hotaru guessed) had written _SAVE TWO MILLION? CANCER RESPONSIBLE FOR FIFTY DEATHS IN MOSCOW LAST YEAR_ **.** Underneath the graph was a picture of the doctor who had written the article lecturing a class of students. His head was circled in the same felt pen, and the words _WORKS FOR GOVERNMENT DEFENSE_ were there beside it.

It seemed that Abujamal had done some detailed research on Cancer and its progression. She would definitely have to talk with him to get more information. Her eyelids were getting very heavy, so she decided it was time for bed. She'd have to take the magazine back in the morning before he realized it was missing. As she slid under the covers, she adjusted her kimono to keep the least amount of skin exposed to the now cold sheets. Tomorrow she would have some answers. And another Letter Delivered. With that thought, she drifted off to sleep once again.

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hotel Agora, December 5, 2308 06:00:38 (T-Minus 00:06:02:34)

Kozel and Slade both woke at the harsh sound of the chronometer's alarm. Slade was tempted to snooze it once, but he realized there was too much at stake. There was a Letter to deliver. Slade jumped in the shower, instantly missing his preset temperature unit from The College as the cold water hit his bare skin. After a lather and shave, Slade vacated the washroom so Kozel could get himself clean.

Heading to the kitchen, Slade made some bacon, eggs, and toast for them both. There was no juice, but that was quickly fixed with a call to the Agora's Manager, who was still more than willing to accommodate an Emissary within his walls. The juice arrived just as Kozel exited the washroom to eat.

"So what's the game plan, Emissary?"

"Eat first. You'll need all of your faculties if we are to pull this off. Do you have the ability for a skill upgrade?"

Kozel paused mid-step, looking at the floor, embarrassed.

"Sorry, Kozel. I should not have asked such a personal question. What I meant to say was, Are you familiar with the SKATE system?" Slade had forgotten the information he had learned about Kozel's family and their financial situation.

"Yes, Emissary." He said, still flushed.

"Great. I've taken the liberty of ordering you a sprinting and climbing upgrade. I think you'll need them for today's mission."

"But, Emissary. The funds..."

"Are being taken care of by _iCorps_. You are assisting me, after all. You can download after you eat."

A small smile.

"I suppose I am helping." A bigger grin. "What's for breakfast?"

They ate quickly, and then adjourned to the salon, where the viewing screen already had the blueprints of the Principal's Office on the screen. Slade accessed the system, and pulled up the blueprints of the motion sensors, making the screen show both at the same time. Kozel looked blankly at the motion sensor documents.

"What is that? I recognize the Office prints from yesterday, but the other?"

"A generic pressure sensor device. I figure the ones on the roof won't be that much different from these. Have you started downloading yet? We've got two hours before we leave."

"On it." He punched a series of numbers into his chronometer. It chirped twice to acknowledge the command. The light changed from blue to red, and Slade could see a progress bar begin to slowly fill. Kozel closed his eyes, and Slade could see his eyes moving rapidly behind his eyelids. After a few moments, he opened them again, shaking his head slightly like he was trying to clear some dizziness

"Downloading has begun, Emissary."

"Good." Slade brought Kozel's attention back to the viewing screen.

"The easiest access to McDonald will be a direct shot to her office. You can be sure that she's beefed up her security since our last visit, and even if they're older like those other guards, we can be stopped by sheer numbers alone."

"I don't particularly want to kill anyone either."

"I agree. No one dies. Except Herman at his appropriate time." Slade smiled.

"So why do you have pressure sensor blueprints?"

"The skylight above McDonald's office is wired with six sensors. According to this," Slade said, pointing to the screen, "They are set to go off if anything heavier than a squirrel touches it."

"Don't forget the cameras, Emissary."

"I haven't. Watch this."

Slade placed his hand on Kozel's chronometer, and slowly used his sub dermal tattoo to copy the chronometer exactly. It took about a minute, but the look of astonishment on Kozel's face was worth it.

"Y-your hand. It disappeared!"

"Touch your chronometer."

He did so, and felt Slade's quite solid hand. He looked quickly between the chronometer and Slade.

"How did..."

"I have a sub dermal tattoo. It allows me to bring images, letters, or symbols to the surface of my skin using tiny LED emitters implanted in areas of dense muscle tissue."

To further illustrate, Slade scrolled _LIKE THIS MESSAGE_ across his forehead.

"So you're like a chameleon?"

"Not really, but I can see how you would make that connection. It takes me a lot longer."

"Still a useful thing to have."

"Indeed."

The plan was simple: Slade would gain access to the skylight using the skills he had acquired the previous night, disabling or destroying the cameras as needed, and would use his sub dermal tattoo to assist in camouflaging him. Once on the roof, Slade planned to literally detach the skylight from the roof and pop unannounced into McDonald's Office.

"Is there any way we can listen to what's going on in that office _before_ you crack the seal? I'd hate for her to clam up because she suspects something."

"You've got a good point. I should have thought of that yesterday. I think at this point, we'll just have to confront her with the information we have, and hope she fesses up."

"But we don't _have_ information."

"She doesn't know that. And I'm counting on that fact. The element of surprise is definitely in our favor at this point."

"And if Herman's in the office too?"

"Then we get a two for one deal."

"Sounds like you have it all planned out. Why do you need me?"

"I need you to make sure I can get out of there afterwards. You'll be on the roof away from the cameras. I need you to pull me up once I'm done getting the information I need. I'll need you able to climb anything you see, and if we get into trouble, I need you faster than a cheetah."

"No kidding. When do we move?"

Slade checked his chronometer. It was seven twenty-five. Time to get going. McDonald would be in her office by eight thirty at the latest.

"Ten minutes. Can you be ready?"

"I'll be waiting for you." He said, grinning from ear to ear.

# CHAPTER TWELVE

Igor's Hostel, Ural Territory, December 5, 2308 07:00:07 (T-Minus 00:04:11:04)

Hotaru woke with a start. Her chronometer's alarm was beeping steadily, and she silenced it, looking at the time. Seven am. Her alarm had been going off for an hour and she hadn't heard it. Outside, the sky was beginning to lighten, and she could actually see traces of blue breaking through the penetrating dark of the previous night. She groggily untangled herself from the sheet that was wrapped around her legs, and got out of bed. She was momentarily confused when she saw her bare legs sticking out from her kimono, but then the memory of the dream came flooding back, and she shuddered.

She walked into the washroom, the lights already on, and she found her pajamas and undergarments from last night clean and folded neatly on the counter. She hadn't planned on having another shower, but the sudden recollection of the night's events sent a chill through her that went all the way to the bone. She programmed the shower for forty-three degrees and stepped into the steaming stream, discarding her kimono to the floor as the door shut.

Thoughts of Abujamal's office and the dream swirled in her mind's eye, refusing to let go and be banished with the daylight. She stood in the warmth of the water until it started to cool. Turning off the shower, she toweled off, wrapping the towel around her hair to absorb the water within. She dressed quickly, her Emissary uniform already laid out the night before.

She sat at the dressing table, unwinding the towel and allowing her damp hair to fall on her shoulders. She retrieved the brush, and began to brush her hair with long even strokes. After a few minutes, there was a cascade of black hair around her shoulders. She set the brush down, and headed to the front room. She needed some food.

Pressing a few buttons on the room's MKII netted her a fruit plate, some brown toast with cream cheese and a glass of apple juice. She ate quickly, and grabbed her Tablet, scanning the information she had gathered from Abujamal's computer. She looked at her chronometer. According to his schedule, he was due in the office in roughly an hour. Deciding that she wanted more information on the papers she saw yesterday, she quickly donned her parka, gloves, and glasses, and headed out into the snow.

The market was just starting to come alive as vendors were uncovering their stalls, wrapping the nylon tarps up in bundles and securing them for storage. As she made her way to the office, Hotaru was greeted many times, and she replied, smiling and waving to the many people who, out of sheer kindness, welcomed her to their town. It was only a matter of minutes before she stood at Abujamal's office. Using her glasses, she quickly scanned the building. No change from last night. She broke in, and paused in the threshold, listening for sounds.

The cat padded over to her, mewling and purring as it rubbed its head against her shin. She absently stroked the creature's head, and then headed straight for the back office. The door was ajar, light on. Had she forgotten to completely shut it last night? Not a chance. Hotaru reached the door, and cautiously peered through the opening into the lit room beyond.

The room was in order - except the desk. It was completely empty. She popped her head through the doorway, glancing to the back wall where the list and cork board should be. Empty. Only the silhouette of the cork board remained on the wall, where time had faded the paint.

_What the heck had happened here? Was it Abujamal?_ Entering the room fully, Hotaru spun a slow circle, taking in the whole room. Only the desk and the cork board had been touched. Everything else was exactly where she had last seen it. She went to the desk, quickly opening and shutting drawers, hoping to find something that tied to the information she had seen.

She found pens, pencils, a ruler, paper clips, and a stapler, but nothing else. Unless you counted the snifter of brandy and two glasses. No magazines were hiding in the drawers. Slamming the last two drawers shut, she focused on his computer. Hotaru hooked her Tablet up again, and let it work. While it did, she strode to the bookcases that lined the back wall. She frantically searched through the papers, files and books to find the magazines she had see last night in Abujamal's office. She knew they would be here _somewhere_. They had to be. But why couldn't she find them?

Scanning the titles on the shelf, she realized there were books in many different languages, among them six editions of the venerable _Gray's Anatomy_ \- including one edition from 2004. Things had changed a lot since then, especially with modifications. Some people weren't _people_ anymore - they were more machine than man.

A chirp from her Tablet drew her attention back to the desk. She darted quickly to the desk, sitting in Abujamal's chair, and started keying commands into the computer. She searched the calendar again, but could find no record of any scheduled meetings, including Mrs. Popov's one pm appointment. Mysteriously absent also, were the notes and references to the findings that made up Abujamal's case. Had she dreamed it all? There was no way. She still had the magazine from Abujamal's desk. She started to dig deeper, using the internet to cross-reference keywords against the dates she remembered from the filing cabinets. She had just come upon a page about the history of smallpox when the door to the office opened.

She froze, her head turning quickly to the door, one finger still depressing the left mouse button, He hadn't seen her yet. Releasing the mouse button, a quick press of the Option, Command, and Home keys put his computer back to sleep, and she surreptitiously ejected her Tablet, using her hand to cover the speaker as it chirped upon disconnect. Now he noticed her.

"What are you doing in my office?" He asked.

"Doctor Husain Abujamal?" She stood, hands behind her back, tucking the Tablet in a zippered pocket in the back of her uniform jacket.

"Yes, I am he. Do I know you?"

"Thankfully no, for your sake. My name is Hotaru Kogame, and I work for the government." She withdrew the magazine from the same pocket, bringing it around to the front of her body. "I have some questions to ask you about this."

Abujamal glanced at the magazine, then to his desk. A look of surprise crossed his face.

"What did you do with my notes? Those are private, and you have no right to-"

"Actually, Doctor, I have the right to any information I need to complete my mission, private or otherwise. I'll say it again. I have some questions about _this_ magazine. I trust that I have your full co-operation?"

He paused, weighing his options. This woman, whoever she was, had given him no option but to comply. He glanced at the desk, the wall where the cork board was, and the still open door. Finally, he slumped slightly and took a step toward the desk.

"May I be seated?" He asked.

"Certainly, Doctor." She stepped away from his chair, and moved to the front of the desk, taking a seat in one of the chairs available.

Abujamal sat in his chair, and reached for a drawer. Hotaru reacted instantly, her Boom Stick coming out of its sheath, resting on the desk top. Abujamal froze, a look of terror on his face.

"I can release the power in this before you touch the drawer, Doctor. Please don't be foolish."

"I-I-I..." He stuttered. Opening the drawer, he withdrew a decanter and two glasses. The amber liquid sloshed violently from his trembling hands. He set them down on the desk. "D-d-d-rink?" he asked.

Hotaru disarmed the Boom Stick, and sheathed it.

"No, thank you. I just had breakfast, and I never drink while on the job."

Hands still shaking, he put the glasses and the bottle back into the drawer, shutting it. He looked up at her.

"You said you had...questions?"

"Yes. I do. My mother died of Cancer ten years ago. It was the worst thing I could imagine, watching her slip slowly away from me and realizing I could do nothing about it. I come here, and find a magazine about Advanced Detection Tools to help fight the battle, and someone's writing is all over the article, refuting the claims. Yours, I assume?"

He nodded.

"Care to elaborate with more than a nod?" She withdrew her Tablet, setting it in recording mode, and placed it on his desk.

"By education, I am a geneticist. I came to Moscow to help a team of doctors study Cancer in many forms. To see if there is a genetic link between family members and generations."

"Pre-disposition? But they've know for a fact that there is a connection. They've known that for almost two hundred years. Why would you study something that's been proven for so long?" Hotaru asked.

"To work on a cure. To make sure that Cancer can once and for all be wiped from the face of the Earth. Every year we make new advances, and we save a few more people. The more we study, the further we advance, and the more we can save."

"But your note says that Cancer has been cured for years."

"It does, and here's where my propaganda speech stops. I graduated from University in 2299. The day I graduated was the fiftieth anniversary of the planet being Cancer free."

Hotaru was stunned. "But my mother. I watched her die. It was definitely Cancer."

"That's what they want you to think. If you've read the article in the magazine, you'll remember the Doctor I circled?"

Hotaru nodded.

"Doctor Viktor Frankl. He heads the research and development board for Northern Europe. He has been on the government's payroll for sixty years - since he got out of Stuttgart University, actually. He was also the head of the team that finally eliminated Cancer from the Earth."

"But that's an amazing feat! Why would-"

"Why wouldn't he accept that accomplishment and share it with the world?"

She nodded again.

"In simple terms: money. The government pays him handsomely to keep it quiet. Every year, he releases an infinitesimal portion of the "cure"," Abujamal made the sign for quotes in the air. "and the medical profession looks like geniuses."

"And you think its time the world knew."

It was his turn to nod. "I have a meeting with a colleague this afternoon at one pm to discuss how to best proceed."

"But what evidence do you have? No one will believe you if there is no proof."

Abujamal patted his blazer pocket, smiling. It turned suddenly to a frown. "My proof!" He said, suddenly remembering that the information from the cork board and the filing cabinet were gone. He spun in the chair to the back of the room, pointing at the blank space where the cork board had been. "What did you do with my information?"

Hotaru thought of the pictures stored safely on her Tablet. _She_ had a copy. But so did someone else. And what else was there that she didn't know about?

"Safekeeping." She lied. "We had to ascertain how much of a threat you were to the existing government."

"I'm a _huge_ threat!" Abujamal said, his voice rising. "Frankl will be sunk when I release this information to the world. The citizens of Northern Europe will probably revolt." He stood, walking around the front of the desk. "Don't you see? Anyone who's had Cancer, or known someone who has will instantly turn on their governments. This is this biggest uprising since-"

A chirp from her Tablet cut him off. She checked her chronometer. It was almost noon. Had she been here for almost three hours? She picked up the Tablet, glancing at it.

"Sorry," she said. "Meeting reminder." She activated the recognition program, but left the recorder running. Abujamal still had information. "Uprising?"

Realizing that he had maybe gone too far, he walked back to his chair and sat again.

"There will be a revolt. Trust me."

"I don't doubt it. I'm feeling slightly angry myself. But who's telling Frankl to hold back the information?"

"That I don't know. I've heard rumors, but nothing more. One of them says that Frankl gets permission directly from the Principal of Northern Europe, but he's just a stepping stone."

"A stepping stone?"

Abujamal nodded. "The rumor is that he was put in power by someone. No one knows who, but his decisions are not his own. You can tell by looking at him. I think he needs permission to do up his fly in the morning when he gets dressed." He started to laugh.

"And the deaths?"

"That's a whole new ball game," he said. "My research points to the deaths being targeted. I found one case where a whole family had been wiped out. He used to work for Frankl, but they had a falling out about revealing the cure. Another case had a mother of two drop dead in her kitchen. No association to any government office, not even the post office. A third case had a man in his twenties die while riding his bike to work. Friends said the day before he was completely healthy."

"What's the connection?"

"I have no idea other than the guy who worked for Frankl. The young guy was known for questioning authority, though. Arrested twice for unlawful protesting."

"And who gives these orders?" She needed a name.

"That I do not know. Sorry."

Another chirp from her Tablet. She stopped the recording, saving the file.

"Doctor, I'm going to need your signature as to the veracity of these statements. Obviously the government is very concerned when there is a possibility of a large revolt."

"Will I get my research back?"

"I'll do my best, Doctor." She closed the recording program, leaving the recognition program running. She held out the Tablet to Abujamal. "I just need your signature to verify this is your research."

Abujamal took the Tablet, and the process began. A chirp drew his attention to the screen where the "Look Here" message was waiting. He collapsed to the ground, and her Tablet skittered to a spot just in front of her feet. With a last reserve of strength, he grabbed her pant leg. She looked down at the dying doctor.

"I...was...right..." he wheezed, and then Abujamal stopped moving.

Hotaru donned her glasses, activating the x-ray mode. She scanned the desk first, finding nothing. A supply closet behind the coat rack hid cork board and the papers, and the files from the filing cabinet were stacked neatly on the floor. She flung the coat rack aside, and tore open the door. Gathering up the files in one arm, she emptied a file box from the floor of the closet and dumped them into the box. It was time to get out of here. But not without that disk.

She reached down to the dead Doctor, whose body was already showing small bumps on the backs of his hands and reached inside his blazer pocket and retrieved the disk. There were still some questions to be answered, but she had many more answers than she had had earlier this morning. _And who moved the cork board to that closet?_ And _why?_ She sat in the desk's chair once again, and hooked up her Tablet, making a complete copy of Abujamal's computer.

Her last act in the room was to pull all the books from the bookshelves and scatter them on the floor. She wanted this to look like a crime. Gathering her Tablet from the desk, Hotaru exited the office, leaving the cat walking in circles around its owner's body.

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

_Principal's Quarters, December 5, 2308 10:25:14 (T-Minus 00:01:37:58_ )

The sun was just beginning to show above the Krymski Hory Mountains as Slade and Kozel reached the roof of a series of townhouses to the East of McDonald's office. Slade was slightly winded from shimmying up the drainpipe at the rear of the house, but Kozel was standing on the roof grinning like an idiot.

"Would you at least crouch down, Kozel?" Slade hissed. "If someone sees you, my immunity won't protect you."

Kozel quickly crouched down, one foot on either side of the apex of the roof.

"Sorry, Emissary." He said, chagrined.

"Don't get hurt today, and we'll call it even." Slade smiled to show him that he wasn't _that_ worried about it. "How's your download?"

He checked his chronometer. "Ninety-eight percent. Almost done."

Slade silently cursed himself. As an Emissary, he usually worked alone. He had been so wrapped up in making sure that he had everything he needed for the mission, he had forgotten about the time needed for Kozel's downloads. They'd just have to wait a few more minutes. It just meant more daylight and a greater chance of being seen. Nothing big. _Yeah right_. Slade thought to himself.

"No worries. It's not like McDonald's expecting us. She's in for quite the-"

Slade stopped mid-sentence as a black hover come down the street and turn left into the compound. He pointed frantically to Kozel who had stood slightly to gain a better view, and he dropped flat to the roof, peering over the apex. He slid a little on the snow-covered roof, and grabbed the tiles frantically. Slade reached over to steady him.

"McDonald?" Kozel whispered anxiously.

"Either her or Herman. The guards wouldn't take diplomatic hovers."

"What's the plan?"

"Now that we know someone's home, we need to get to that other roof."

"Sounds good. Do you want to go-"

Kozel's chronometer began to chime, indicating the completed download. It sounded louder than a gunshot in the still morning. He quickly clamped a hand over the speaker portion muffling the sound. When it finished, we both scanned the street and windows in McDonald's office for movement. There was none.

"Crisis averted." Kozel said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"And we know your downloads are done." Slade said sarcastically. "Time to move."

They quietly picked their way across the roof, paying extra attention to the portions of the roof that were covered in snow. One misstep, and they could be hurt at best, at worst killed. As they reached the edge of the roof, a small flock of nightingales landed in the tree in front of them, chirping and squawking to each other.

Slade tried to shoo them, but they chirped louder, as if he was infringing on their territory. Kozel picked up a small rock and pitched it at the birds. It missed them completely, but hit a branch behind them. The report of the rock hitting wood echoed down the street, and made the birds take flight.

"You _were_ trying to hit the birds, right?"

"No, I planned to hit the tree." Kozel said sheepishly.

"Let's go."

They cautiously made their way from the roof to the tree, being extra careful to be sure of their footing. As they made their way around the tree, tufts of snow fell from the laden branches to land on the ground below. Each creak of a branch sounded like thunder and Slade was sure that they would be discovered.

After a couple minutes, they rested atop the roof of McDonald's building. According to the blueprints, the cameras were located on the corners near the skylight. Slade guessed they had twenty meters before they had to worry about them. Kozel tapped his shoulder. As Slade turned, Kozel raised one finger to his lips, and pointed to the ground below them. A pair of McDonald's guards were on patrol. They remained motionless as the guards passed underneath them.

Suddenly there was a scraping sound, and Slade realized that Kozel was slipping. Slade grabbed him quickly, and motioned for him to remain silent. Loose rock and snow tumbled to the ground below. The guards stopped, turning to see what had caused the sound. As the snow settled, a squirrel moved in the tree beside the building.

"Damn animals. They carry disease wherever they go." One of the guards said as they turned to resume their patrol.

The second guard turned, raising his pistol and fired three quick shots into the tree. There was a flurry of movement as birds, and squirrels alike fled the tree, no longer safe. As the guards rounded the corner at the end of our side of the building, Slade motioned to Kozel to start moving. They moved into the tree, testing branches for weight before moving fully onto them. Birds chirped and tweeted, and squirrels chattered as their territory was invaded. Slade shimmied around the trunk of the tree, feeling the pine needles scratch his face as he did so.

Kozel slipped once, but quickly grabbed a branch near his face as he fell, and slammed into the trunk below him, sending animals of all kinds fleeing the tree. Slade motioned for him to stay still as he looked for the guards, but they were around the other side of the building still.

Slade reached down, grabbing Kozel's hand and hauling him up to where Slade was balanced on a thick branch. They were less than two meters from the roof's edge. There was no turning back now. A quick glance at his chronometer indicated that Slade was running out of time – less than two hours left.

They made the small jump from the tree to the roof, and flattened themselves against the rough red shingles to help keep them hidden from the guards on patrol below. Cautiously, they moved closer to the skylight. As they got closer, Kozel brushed a stone that was in his path across the roof. The camera closest to us swiveled, tracing the motion.

"Oh crap!" Slade hissed. "Kozel, did you see that?"

He nodded, and lobbed another small rock in the direction of a different camera. It swiveled like the first, following the motion of the rock. Slade certainly hadn't counted on motion-activated cameras. That was an upgrade installed since the blueprints. Kozel motioned Slade closer.

"What if I distract them? Like run across the roof. If they're tracking me, they won't see you."

"Might work, but you can only distract them for so long. I need a few minutes to get through that skylight."

"What if we damage the camera?" Kozel suggested.

"We'd probably have a dozen guards on the roof faster than we'd like." Slade said drily.

Just then there was a scraping noise below, the sound of a window being opened. Slade hushed Kozel and told him to be still.

"...think that they found out about the ship, do you?"

It was McDonald's voice.

"I think you're giving them too much credit. How could they find something they don't know they're looking for?"

That was Herman for sure. Maybe they'd get their information after all. Slade moved closer to the edge of the roof. His boot scraped the shingles, and the closest camera swung toward him. _They're sound activated too?_ Slade wondered. Kozel saw the camera began to move and tossed a handful of pebbles in the opposite direction, drawing the camera away from Slade.

Slade inched closer and closer in the direction he had heard the voices coming from. He reached the corner, and placed one hand on the eavestrough for support as he withdrew his Tablet to record the conversation below. Slade pushed the record button.

"...and on top of that, I lost _two_ people while the Emissary strutted his way around, poking his nose in our business where it doesn't belong."

"Would you relax, Herman? The Emissary and his lap dog have no idea about your little smuggling operation. The fact that you're doing it for me means that I've given you complete immunity. He couldn't touch you if he wanted to - Letter or not."

"I'd like to believe you, Lissa. I really would. But I can't go back to Australia. I spent three years maneuvering, plotting, and bribing everyone on that stinking island to get _off_ of it. I am not going back. Not to mention the fact that I now owe my supplier ten thousand Royals per death in compensation. We need to do something about that, also."

"You'll be compensated, I assure you. We are days away from opening the mine again, and then you and your supplier will reap the benefits of all the ore you need for whatever it is you're planning."

"You had better be right."

Slade was hoping for more, but at that moment, the eavestrough gave way under his weight and Slade suddenly found himself falling head first toward the ground. He frantically grabbed at another part of the eavestrough, but missed. As he fell, Slade saw a hand shoot over the roof's edge, and the strong hand of Kozel clamped around his wrist, halting his descent.

Slade swung back and forth for a moment before he was able to find a foothold on a third-story window ledge. Satisfied that Slade was relatively safe, Kozel let go, and shimmied over the edge to join him.

"So much for the skylight." He said.

"I guess. Maybe we should just walk in the front door after all." Slade shrugged.

Kozel held Slade's Tablet out to him.

"Were you able to get any of that conversation?"

"Almost all of it."

He smiled. "Then we can go?"

"Unfortunately not." Slade looked at his chronometer. "I've got less than an hour to Deliver. We need to do this now. We can get McDonald after."

"So we go down. Great."

Using jutting bricks as hand and footholds, Slade and Kozel carefully descended from the third floor window to the ground level. There was a nice alcove for them to conceal themselves in, and they waited for the patrol to come by before they moved. Kozel and Slade matched the two guards, step for step, and Slade reached forward, wrapping one arm around the guard's forehead and the other around his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply. The guard struggled against him, but Slade's relative youth and training was no match for an old, overweight guard, and a minute later he crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Kozel stood idly, lightly slapping a large branch against his left palm. He had a wicked grin on his face, and Slade could see the end of his makeshift cudgel was slightly red, no doubt from the impact with the guard's head.

"You weren't supposed to _kill_ him, Kozel."

"Don't worry, he's not dead." He pointed at the man's chest, which rose and fell regularly. "See? He breathes."

They dragged the limp bodies into the alcove, and proceeded around the building. All the curtains on the windows were drawn, which helped conceal them, but also hid the activities of the inside to them also. Around the back of the building, Slade spied a door halfway down the long wall.

"Are we going in?" Kozel asked.

"I don't want to crash the party, but I'm running out of time." A glance at his chronometer indicated that he had sixty-five minutes remaining. Kozel looked at the timer counting down and nodded, motioning toward the door.

"You first," he said, grinning.

A check of the handle quickly told him the door was locked, but Slade was in no mood to let a simple door stop him. He pulled out his Tablet, aimed it at the door, and scanned for any signs of life on the other side. Slade received the all clear from his Tablet, and unsheathed his Boom Stick.

"Stand back, Kozel."

He quickly stood behind Slade, watching with eagerness. The general public didn't get to see a Boom Stick in action. Even someone in a government capacity didn't have this privilege often.

Slade took aim at the door, set the Boom Stick to medium, and flung it forward, unleashing the charge at the door. The doors parted with the impact, sending small wood fragments exploding out toward them. Slade shielded himself with his arm, and Kozel did the same, and sparing them damage from the most dangerous of the damaging pieces. Sheathing the Boom Stick, Slade started toward the door when it was suddenly kicked open and four guards came rushing out at them.

Slade immediately dropped into a defensive stance, hands up in front of him, prepared for the next move. The guards didn't waste any time, and he had no chance to see if Kozel was ready - or able - to hold his own. The closest two guards came at Slade together, flanking him and making sure he had no chance to escape.

He feinted toward the one on his left, but used the momentum to propel himself to the right, bringing his right hand up, connecting with the guard's chin. Slade winced as bone met bone, but the guard staggered backwards enough for him to jump into the space the guard had just left, turning as he did so.

With both of his guards off-balance, Slade took a second to check on Kozel. He was wielding his branch with deadly accuracy, and though the guards outweighed him by almost double, Slade could see cuts on both of their faces. It was this momentary distraction that allowed one of the guards closest to him to get a shot in, and Slade doubled over as a fist buried itself in his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

As Slade doubled over, the momentum of the guard's second his punch pushed him backward, and Slade lost his balance, falling to the ground. He needed to use this to his advantage, or he was in some really deep trouble. Slade threw his arms up over his head, bending his hands backward, and kicked with his feet, turning his fall into a backward handspring.

With his newfound momentum, Slade got in a lucky kick to the other guard's chest, driving him backward and away from the possibility of assisting his comrade. Completing his spin, Slade took full advantage of the surprise movement, and dropped into a crouch, swinging his right leg out into a sweeping kick that knocked the first guard to the ground.

Slade followed up with a one-two punch to the stomach and chin that knocked the guard out cold. One down, three to go. The second guard came at him with fury in his eyes, arms ready to strike at any opening Slade allowed. Slade drew into a defensive stance again, and unleashed his now recharged Boom Stick at the guard. He had no chance. He stood, immobilized, arms still up, and face still locked in that insane rage.

Slade secured the guard's hands with a zip tie, and pushed him gently to an awkward seated position. As Slade turned to find Kozel, he realized that Kozel was in trouble. One of the guards had tackled him to the ground, and was holding him while the other guard worked furiously to beat the living daylights out of him.

Kozel's branch was just out of his reach, but Slade could see that he had wielded it effectively. Both guards were bleeding from angry wounds on their heads and, judging from their torn shirts and coats, Slade could see that Kozel had also struck a few times at their midsections.

Slade dashed quickly to the branch, scooping it up in his left hand, and whirled to face the two guards, Boom Stick in one hand, and branch in the other. Both were equally deadly in his hands, and Slade could see the looks of worry begin to creep into the guard's faces.

The closest guard to Slade stopped punching Kozel, and stood, moving toward him with a speed that was surprising for his size. As he came close to Slade, the world began to slow down, until it seemed like Slade had full breaths between each of his steps.

Waiting till he felt the guard's hands touch his arms, Slade sidestepped, and swung both Boom Stick and branch straight down to the ground. He could hear and feel the bones snap as both implements connected with the guard's outstretched hands.

The guard let out a strangled cry of pain as his brain processed the injury, and Slade turned to the left, kicking with his right foot at the guard's ribs. The impact sent him crashing into a nearby tree, and then to the ground. Slade was in a frenzy, and he twisted around, finding the other guard under attack by Kozel. Reaching them in a second, Slade flung Kozel aside, intent on taking out the last remaining enemy.

Kozel hit the ground, breaking his fall with his hand, and stared open-mouthed as Slade closed in on the guard. He sheathed his Boom Stick, and took the branch in a two handed grip. Slade swung once, and as the guard jumped backward, Slade leaped toward him, changing to an overhand swing. He didn't stand a chance.

Slade's feet touched the ground as the branch connected with the top of the guard's head. The impact and extra force of his landing drove the branch into his head and the guard's knees buckled beneath him. Blood streamed from the open wound on his head. He was done. But it wasn't enough. Slade swung again and again, connecting with head, chest and shoulders, determined to remove the enemy.

Blood began to spray from the now dead body as over and over Slade swung. Kozel approached him, and through his rage, Slade could hear his title. Stopped, but still enthralled by the rage, he watched as Kozel moved to him, hands out submissively. It took almost a full minute before Slade registered that he was not a threat. He dropped his stick to the ground and surveyed the scene.

Four guards lay dead or unconscious on the ground. Kozel was covered in blood, and so was Slade, though the blood that covered him was not his own. Slade was breathing heavily, and his hands were clenched into fists so tightly that the knuckles were albino white.

"Kozel," Slade gasped between two huge intakes of breath. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I think so, Emissary. I'll need some stitches, and some medicine, but I should be good. We should get cleaned up if we're going to see McDonald."

"Good idea."

Slade grabbed his Tablet from the pocket of his coat, not really amazed that it survived the fight. _These things are indestructible!_ He quickly called up a map of McDonald's office, and found that there was a washroom less than one hundred meters from their current position. They hurried inside, not bothering to tend to the dead outside. There would be time later for that.

Finding the washroom was doubly fortuitous - it doubled as the guard's dressing room. There were ample uniforms for them to change into, and minutes later, they exited the washroom with their wounds tended half-heartedly, but dressed in the finery of McDonald's guards.

They walked the halls with purpose, heading straight for McDonald's office, nodding to other guards as they passed. Less than five minutes later, they stood outside the ornate door that led into the office of the Principal of Ukraine Territory.

"Do we knock?" Kozel asked.

"I think we should, but I'm not waiting for an answer."

Slade raised his hand to knock, and his chronometer let out a loud chirp. He quickly looked. Twenty minutes remaining. It was time. Slade knocked and then turned the knob on the door, pushing as he moved into the room. It was locked, and he crashed into the door, unable to stop his momentum.

"What the...?" Kozel began.

Frustrated, Slade took one step backward and reared back, kicking the door next to the handle. It flung inward, and he was rewarded with a glimpse of the surprised faces of McDonald and Herman as Kozel followed him into the room. McDonald jumped up from her seat, sending folders and Tablets skittering across her desk.

"What is the meaning of this?" She demanded.

"Principal McDonald," Slade said. "I am here to place Randy Emery Herman under arrest for the trafficking of individuals from other territories to support your population deficiency."

"Preposterous!" Herman said, rising from his chair. "You can't arrest me! I have diplomatic immunity from anything you think you can do to me."

"On the contrary, Mr. Herman. Not only do I _think_ I can arrest you, I have evidence that implicates you and Principal McDonald in the operation."

Kozel stepped up beside me brandishing the business end of a pool cue. _Where had he found THAT?_

"Do you refute the charges, Mr. Herman?" Kozel asked.

"Certainly I do! I was coerced into helping Principal McDonald. She threatened my family!"

"I did _what_?" She sputtered, voice rising as she tried to grasp what Herman was saying.

"You know you did, Principal. Don't try and deny it now." He turned to face McDonald, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction.

Slade moved a step closer toward Herman. Something didn't feel right about this. The conversation he had heard earlier indicated Herman had a more than senior role in this operation. Slade reached for his Boom Stick, ready for anything.

Herman turned as if to offer more proof, but his left hand came up from the desk quickly, launching a small clay urn at Slade. He quickly ducked out of the way as Kozel brought the pool cue down with lightning fast reflexes, smashing the urn. A huge cloud of ashes accompanied the destruction of the urn, and as his vision was quickly blocked, Slade caught a glimpse of Herman in motion toward the desk.

Herman crashed through the window. Slade charged over McDonald's desk, and dove head first out of the window after him. He landed on the grass and rolled to his feet. Seeing Herman only a few steps ahead of him, Slade took off into a run, taking his Boom Stick out of its sheath as he ran. Slade was vaguely aware of Kozel coming through the window behind him.

Herman reached the gate, and turned a sharp left, using the gate for balance. Slade angled toward where Herman was heading, and vaulted over the wall, using speed and his acrobatics download to propel him higher up the wall than the average human. As he cleared the top of the wall, Slade could see Herman had gained a bit of a lead on him, and was heading toward the center of town.

Slade landed on the grass on the other side of the wall, and broke into a fast run. To his right, Kozel was just clearing the gate, waving him on, and Slade decided to let Kozel catch up on his own. He reached forward with the Boom Stick, unleashing its power at Herman, but missed as he rounded the next corner to his right. The charge slammed into the building, dislodging brick and mortar in a large grey cloud.

"Crap!" Slade shouted to himself as he rounded the same corner that Herman had disappeared around moments before. He sheathed his Boom Stick, pumping his arms in an effort to gain on Herman. Ahead, Herman was running across a bridge. The bridge had a grade to it, and Slade was making up ground quickly.

"Randy...Emery...Herman!" Slade shouted between breaths. "Stop!"

Herman turned to look and ran into a couple on a stroll. They were both knocked to the ground, and started cursing at Herman, who was still running full tilt. But he was now only five steps ahead of Slade. He had him!

"Stop!" Slade shouted again.

Herman turned to look again, and, seeing how close Slade was to him, jumped to the top of the railing of the bridge. He stole another quick look at Slade, and then leapt off the bridge. Slade was dumbfounded. As he crashed into the railing, Slade saw Herman running away from the bridge along a path by the river. There was no way Slade could make that jump without getting hurt. Herman obviously had mods.

Slade looked to the other side of the bridge – looking for a way down – stairs, a ramp, or even a ladder. There was none. He was _not_ letting him get away. Slade had worked too hard to get to this point, and he wasn't going to let some modded human outrun him. Slade looked up as a flash of light caught his eye, and smiled as he saw a refuse carrier coming toward him at a fast clip. If Herman could jump, so could he. As the carrier neared the bridge, Slade took off at a dead run toward the other side of the bridge, and jumped the railing hoping to hit the collection bin.

Mid-jump, Slade looked down, and realized he wasn't going to hit the carrier where he wanted. Slade had miscalculated the carrier's speed, and was rapidly falling short. He leaned forward, stretching toward the truck. He felt metal under his fingers, and closed his hands on the edge of the collection bin. Gravity took hold, and his body slammed into the corrugated side of the bin. The impact knocked the wind out of his lungs, and Slade struggled to catch his breath while still holding onto the carrier.

Slade painfully edged to the corner of the bin, and saw Herman rounding another corner. _Doesn't this guy ever give up_? He thought. Slade let go of the bin, tucking into a roll, and once again the wind was knocked out of him as Slade met the asphalt. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline keeping him going. He took off in the direction that Herman had fled, and rounded the corner. Slade caught a glimpse of him ahead, and leaned into his run, pumping his arms and legs as fast as they would go.

"Herman!" Slade screamed into the night ahead of him. "Stop!"

His breath was coming in ragged gasps, but Slade couldn't slow down. Suddenly, there was a chirp from his chronometer, and Slade stole a quick glance. The readout was red, and indicated he had only ten minutes to Deliver to Herman. Herman had about two hundred meters on him, and Slade was rapidly losing this race.

Slade hopped onto the back of another passing refuse carrier, struggling to find purchase on the smooth corners of the collection bin. He finally managed to find a small chink in the bin, and wedged his right hand into it, wincing as the jagged edge bit into the palm of his hand. The carrier sped closer to Herman, and Slade leaned his head around the corner of the bin, hoping to see his exact whereabouts. He was on a direct course for the carrier Slade was on, and it appeared that Herman hadn't noticed him yet.

Slade hopped off the carrier, legs already in motion as he sped toward Herman. With the carrier now out of the way, Slade was easily visible, and Herman cut right into the park, ducking into a copse of oaks and maples that lined the street. His speed astounded Slade. Left and right he dodged, weaving around trees with ease as Slade tried to keep pace with him.

Slade's chronometer beeped again, harsher this time, and another quick glance told him he had less than five minutes. Herman made a sharp turn up a walkway, and crashed through the gate, heading into the yard beyond.

Having no choice, Slade followed, struggling to breathe, but unwilling to give up the chase. He sped blindly into the yard after Herman, and suddenly found he had no purchase on the ground below him. He was slipping, his body falling backwards as his momentum carried his feet and legs ever forward.

Slade braced for the impact, and felt his left wrist twist the wrong way as his hand rolled on the loose debris covering the ground. He let out a scream of pain as the rest of his body hit the ground and for the third time that night felt the air knocked out of him. Slade tried to scramble to his feet, but the ground kept shifting under him, changing with every attempt at secure footing. He put his hand down for balance, and realized that there were small glass beads on the ground. Herman must have knocked something over in his passage to slow him down. It was working.

He brushed a small patch clean in front of him, and stepped quickly into it, launching himself in the direction he had last seen Herman.

"Delivery imminent. Three minutes." His chronometer informed him with a loud klaxon alarm.

"Great." Slade muttered to himself, then felt a burst of adrenaline as he saw Herman running across an open yard only fifty-five meters ahead of him.

Slade unsheathed his Boom Stick as he found a last reserve of energy, and took aim. Pressing the trigger, he watched the bolt of pure energy shoot across the air between them. It hit Herman in the lower back, and he was flung to the ground. Yes!

There was no slowing down. Slade had moments to get to Herman before time ran out. A harsh alarm from Slade's chronometer told Slade he had less than two minutes. He finally reached Herman, rolled him over, and withdrew the Tablet from his coat.

"Randy...Emery...Herman," Slade said struggling to catch his breath. "You have been served."

Slade rolled Herman over, placing the Tablet in his immobilized hands. The second the Tablet recognized his fingerprints, the Delivery was registered, and Slade put his hands on his knees, catching his breath. He had cut it close before, but not this close. He usually had five minutes remaining. He watched as the laser verified his retinal identity, and Slade heard the chirp of his chronometer as it stopped counting down. He looked down at his chronometer to see how close he had cut it.

Plus Sixteen Seconds.

What the heck?

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_Igor's Hostel, Ural territory, December 5, 2308 16:04:25_

Hotaru sat at the table in her room at the hostel. She sipped at a cup of coffee as she stared out the window at the vista below. Smoke twisted from chimneys disappearing into the evening twilight as stars twinkled above. Today had been a very interesting day. The things that Abujamal had told her all pointed to a cover up. What Hotaru couldn't figure out was _why_.

"Doctor Viktor Frankl...head of the team that finally eliminated Cancer from the Earth...The government pays him handsomely to keep it quiet..."

Frankl was part of it. Hotaru had him figured out. Money was his only motivator. As long as the money kept coming, Frankl would maintain the status quo on his end. Abujamal had indicated that there were plans to go public with the information. Would the information still go public with Abujamal dead? She needed to find out who Abujamal was going to talk to. And what of the claims he made?

"2299...fiftieth anniversary of the planet being Cancer free...research points to the deaths being targeted...arrested twice for unlawful protesting...died while riding his bike to work...completely healthy the day before."

She picked up her Tablet, and scrolled to the pictures she had taken of the cork board. Its charts of disease, and the hand drawn lines to dates. There was a line from Cancer to 2249. _Was Abujamal telling the truth?_ The only way to verify the claim would be to talk to Frankl. She had some vacation time coming up. Maybe she would spend it in Northern Europe. She set the Tablet back on the table, and picked up her coffee, cradling it in both hands, feeling the warmth of the cup radiate into her hands.

Suddenly a thought struck her: _Smallpox_. Her father had died from smallpox after looking at the Tablet. Was there a connection there too? Reaching over to pick up her Tablet, she was surprised to hear it chirp. As she accessed the menu, she found another assignment. _Already? That was fast_. She submitted to the verification scans, and waited for the assignment to load on the screen. What she saw surprised her:

Information not suitable for Tablet viewing. Please contact Control for full assignment details.

_What the...?_ Hotaru wondered, punching her chronometer's communication function.

"Voice activate, Emissary 0256773. Call Home."

The familiar voice responded. " _Voice activation confirmed. Dialing. Please wait_."

As she waited, she began to pace the floor of the kitchen area of her room. Unconsciously, she began to hum to herself.

"Hey Jude, don't make it-"

Suddenly a voice came on the line: "Emissary 0256773, this is Control. How can we be of assistance?"

"Hello, Control. I received an assignment transmission with instructions to contact you for full assignment details. Can you verify transmission?"

"Checking. One moment, 0256773." There was a pause of only a second. "Confirmed, 0256773. Transmission originated from Control. Are you at a secure location?"

She paused to think. Igor said this room was for Emissary use. It must be secure.

"Yes, Control. Room is secure."

"Locating chronometer signal address...address found...verifying connection security and speed...compatible. Transferring assignment details to viewing screen...information transferred. Can we be of further assistance?"

"Not at the moment, Control. Thank you. 0256773 out."

The line disconnected, and Hotaru walked to the viewing screen in the main living area of her room. On the screen in large red letters, Hotaru read:

THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED, AND IS INTENDED FOR SELECT INDIVIDUALS ONLY. PLEASE PROCEED TO TERMINAL AND RE-VERIFY BIOMETRIC IDENTITY.

_Well_ this _is new_. Hotaru, thought as she stepped to the identity terminal. She placed her right hand into the terminal, looking into the laser to verify her retinal identity. There was a long pause, and Hotaru thought the machine had malfunctioned. She removed her hand, and placed it back on the pad. She was about to bend to the laser again when the light on the terminal turned blue and the viewing screen changed from the warning message to the familiar silhouetted figure of Control.

"Good Evening, 0256773. This message is intended for you, and you alone. Sensors have scanned your accommodations, and have placed a silence envelope around your room. No one but you is privy to this conversation. It needs to stay that way."

"Understood, Control. Can I ask-"

"You may listen, 0256773."

"Yes, Control."

"We have reached a crisis point in the Emissary Program. For the first time in over a century, an Emissary has failed their task in Delivering their Letter."

Hotaru was stunned.

"And the Target?" she asked.

"Yesterday at 12:03:28, local Ukraine time," The voice continued, not acknowledging her question. "Emissary 0247893 registered Delivery to his Target. His Target time was 12:03:12. Failure to Deliver is an offense under _iCorps_ Emissary manual Section IV, Subsection ii, paragraph 2."

Hotaru nodded. She knew the passage well. Every Emissary did. It was the next paragraph that scared them though.

"Pursuant to paragraph three, should an Emissary fail to meet the above guideline, a penalty shall be imposed upon said Emissary of no less than six weeks imprisonment, or death by Letter, despite what cause the Emissary purports to be. The Emissaries' immediate supervisor shall impose penalties according to his or her discernment, unless the target in question is of sufficient rank or level, in which case the Emissary shall be brought before The Tribunal for Judgment."

"And you want me to Deliver, because..."

"Because, 0256773, now that 0247893 is disavowed and slated for a Letter, you are our best, and only, hope of catching him."

"What about his Beta?"

"0247893's Beta is forty years old, and is on the other side of the world. We have activated 0247893 Delta, but she's only seventeen, and no match for someone who has been in this job for as long as he has."

"Where was 0247893 last seen?"

"Crimea. His Target was verified dead on a suburban sidewalk by a passerby. The coroner registered the cause of death as a heart attack."

Hotaru's mind flashed to Abujamal's cork board. _No heart attack listing there._

"And the maximum penalty has been allowed-"

"Because his Target has been convicted of the murder of Principal Leeds of Alberta Territory."

"But the Target is dead?"

"Yes, but we cannot let this slide. We need to make an example for the rest of you. The order stands, 0256773."

"Understood. Target date?"

"You have seven days, 0256773. By midnight, December 11, 2308 you must register a delivery to 0247893, or face the same penalty that he is facing."

Hotaru gulped, swallowing hard.

"Yes, Control. It shall be done."

"Do you require any assistance prior to your undertaking of this extraordinary mission?"

"No, Control, but I do have an unrelated question."

"Proceed."

"My last Target, Husain Abujamal, claimed that Cancer has been cured since 2249. Can you verify?"

"One moment, 0256773, verifying."

The screen went dark, and there was a long pause as she paced the living room. After an excruciating five minutes, Control was back.

"We have searched the records maintained by _iCorps_ , and we can find no records of such a claim. We did find irrefutable proof that Cancer is still unchecked. Your own mother died from Cancer, did she not?"

The words hit Hotaru like a brick.

"Yes." She muttered.

"Then you have your answer, 0256773. Your seven days begins at 0600 tomorrow morning. We have you booked on a flight from Domodedovo airport to Poltava airport that leaves at nine am. Good luck, 0256773. We hope you succeed, for your sake."

The screen went blank, and her Tablet chirped. She glanced at it. It read: **Delivery Information Updated** _. And that's that,_ Hotaru thought to herself. Seven days. That was a long time. She had never heard of any Emissary being given seven days to find a Target. Was 0247893 that good? Deciding to leave in the morning, she accessed her Tablet's e-mail program and logged in. There were a couple ways she could get additional information on 0247893. She created a new message and began to type:

To: Control (control@icorps.corp)

From: 0256773 (0256773@icorps.corp)

Subject: Target 0247893

Control,

It seems to me that the most effective way of flushing a hidden Emissary is to freeze the assets owned by that Target. Therefore, I am requesting a full freeze of all assets belonging to Emissary 0247893, in accordance with Section I, paragraph ii.

Protocol dictates that his dwelling be turned over to his Beta, but I request a five day delay in that practice. While I cannot travel there myself, perhaps Beta 0247893 can photograph the room, and send the images to my Tablet, in the hope that I may glean information critical to completing my task.

Finally, if 0247893 was working with any known associates, they may be an additional avenue to tracking him down. A list of these associates would be most helpful.

Humbly Yours,

Hotaru Kogame, 0256773

It appeared that Frankl, and her vacation, would have to wait. She now had more pressing duties to attend to. She placed a call to Igor, and ordered three dresses of varying styles. She stressed her upcoming flight, and he promised he'd deliver on time. He asked if she wanted shoes and accessories to match, but she declined everything but the shoes. Her pack would suffice. A tingle of excitement filled her as she thought about being the first to go after an Emissary in over one hundred years.

Don't get too cocky, Hotaru. Complete the mission before congratulating yourself.

She checked her chronometer: 10pm. It was time for sleep. She changed into her pajamas, placing her uniform in the laundry bin. It would be ready for the morning. She crawled under the covers, and was asleep in seconds.

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Ukraine Territory, December 5, 2308 12:05:16 (Plus 00:00:02:04)

"Emissary 0247893, this is Control. How can we be of assistance?"

"There's something wrong with my chronometer, Control. I had over two minutes to complete Delivery and my delivery is registered at plus sixteen seconds. Can you please verify my Tablet?"

"Working. Please wait."

Slade paced back and forth as Control worked silently on the other end of the connection. He was angry with himself, but could not understand why. He _knew_ that he hadn't gone past the allotted time. He looked at his Tablet - it still read plus sixteen seconds. He was about to throw the offending Tablet at the ground when a voice came back on the line.

"Emisary 0247893, thank you for being patient. We have checked the data in reference to your Delivery. Our investigation points to the data being correct. Delivery to Randy Emery Herman recorded at 12:03:28pm local time. Data verified on four separate servers for corruption and inaccuracy."

"So what is my next course of action?" Slade asked, though he knew already. He had to hear it out loud.

"You need to remain where you are. Someone will collect you and bring you back to The College in Siam for questioning and examination. From there, resulting actions will be decided and carried out."

Slade dropped to his knees, in shock. From the first day Slade had been an Alpha, there had always been the possibility of failure. Intense training and well executed plans ensured a great chance of success, but there was always the unknown.

"Thank you, Control." He said dejectedly. "Emissary 0247893 out." Slade disconnected from the call, arms dropping to his sides, shoulders sagging in defeat.

Kozel found Slade kneeling over Herman's corpse. Slade's head was in his hands, and he was rocking slightly, as if rocking would make something go away. Kozel parked the hover, got out and walked along the small expanse of snow-covered grass that made up the backyard of the house. Already, he could hear the sirens of the _iCorps_ vehicles coming to clean up Herman.

"You don't look so happy, Emissary. I would think that after Delivering your Letter, you would be happier."

"I've failed, Kozel."

"Failed? How?"

"I didn't deliver in time." Slade showed his chronometer to Kozel.

"Plus sixteen? What does that mean?"

"It means I've failed. Each Delivery is assigned a specific time limit. Emissaries are allowed ten additional seconds on top of the specified time in extreme cases where the Target flees, like Herman did."

"So they're all upset over one second? You Delivered your Letter." He pointed to Herman's prone body. "And why did you have to kill Herman?"

"I used my Boom Stick to immobilize him. After I Delivered the Letter, he simply died." There was no point in telling Kozel more than he was equipped to handle. "Perhaps his heart gave out after such a long chase, and then being shocked by the Boom Stick." Slade stood, the expression on his face changing to one of determination.

"And the authorities?" Kozel motioned in the air to the sound of approaching sirens.

"Are coming to take me in." Slade stood, a new resolve gripping him. He knew something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "But I'm not going. Kozel, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, Emissary."

"I need you to get home to Lyuba, Vasylyna and Yakiv. Forget you ever met me. I know how they'll try to find me."

"But Emissary-"

"Just do it, Kozel!" Anger shone in Slade's eyes, and Kozel backed up a step.

"When?" Kozel said, quietly.

"The sooner the better."

With that, Slade stood, offering his hand to Kozel.

"Thank you for your help. It has been an honor to work with you, Officer Dmytro Kozel."

They clasped hands, and after a quick embrace Slade turned, jogging away from Kozel toward the park before breaking into a full run once he crossed the street. Kozel walked back to the hover, got in, and drove slowly away towards home. As he rounded the corner at the end of the street, he thought he saw Slade disappear into a deeper section of the forest, but when he looked again, all he saw was trees.

With trees flashing by him, Slade took off into hiding. It wouldn't be long before they had someone after him, if there wasn't someone after him already. He thought about his next move. Going back to the Agora wasn't an option. That would be the first place they'd look for him. Same thing with his dwelling back at The College.

There were safe houses scattered throughout the world for Emissaries who needed a place to stay and be under the radar, but all of those would be watched. His last option wasn't the best one, but it was the only one he had at the moment. He needed to get to the Eastern United Territories as soon as he could. He had a hidden cache there, power cells, Royals, fake ID's. Everything he'd need to go underground. The only issue he had was _getting there_.

As he came to the edge of the forest, he slowed. Though he couldn't see it, he could hear the roadway that was ahead, and the hovers that were travelling along it. _Ok, Slade_ , he thought to himself, _plan time. What have you got at your disposal?_ He knew that he would no longer have access to the wealth of supplies and opportunities that Control provided.

He had his Boom Stick, and six charges. He was in a Crimean guard uniform, his Emissary uniform still at McDonald's covered in blood from his fight with the guards. He had some Royals with him, but not enough to travel far. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out his Tablet. _That could come in handy_ , Slade thought. _Wait a minute. I also have my internal drive and all the information on it. And my sub-dermal tattoo. Maybe this won't be as hard as I thought._

Smiling to himself, he stepped out of the forest toward the highway. He flagged down the first hover he saw and, using the uniform he had pilfered from McDonald's office, commandeered the hover. He dropped the hover's owner at The Agora with instructions to charge a room to McDonald's office for the inconvenience. He quickly ran up to the room he had shared with Kozel, grabbed his bag, went out the back entrance, jumped back into the hover then sped off toward Kiev and an airport.

As soon as he was out of the city and hit the M05, Slade put the hover on auto and consulted his Tablet. There was no news of anyone being after him. Crimean news stations were reporting Herman's death as a heart attack, but there was no mention of the smuggling operation that Herman and McDonald were involved in. McDonald's spin doctors were handling that one effectively.

He accessed his drive, pulling up the Emissary manual. He quickly scanned the pages as they flowed across the windshield, stopping when he got to Section IV. He quickly read subsection ii, paragraphs two and three. There was no doubt about it, he was in trouble. But who would they send? His Beta was too old, and did not have the same set of skills he did. _Would they send more than one?_ That was a troubling thought.

A soft chime from the hover indicated that it was running low on fuel. Slade directed the hover to find the closest fuelling station. It was only three kilometers away. Slade suspended the windshield display, and resumed control of the hover. Pulling into the station, Slade exited the hover and walked into the concession as robotic arms filled the hover, cleaned the windshield and lights, and checked all the fluids.

He reached into a cooler to grab a six-pack of soda. Shutting the glass door, he grabbed a ham sandwich and a chocolate bar from another cooler before heading up to the cashier. The automated teller had the total of his food purchases ready, and Slade paid the machine. The receipt produced indicated that the fuel was being charged to McDonald's territory account. While that was good, it meant that he had a government license plate. Too easy to track.

Heading back to his hover, Slade spotted a derelict hover behind the station that still had a plate attached to it. He steered his hover beside it and quickly swapped the two plates. Even if caught on camera, he would have at least a few hours' head start on whomever was tracking him.

Back on the M05, Slade resumed auto and reactivated the windshield. He booked a flight to the North American zone for early tomorrow morning using his personal credit. It was easily tracked, but there was nothing he could do about that right now. He needed to get to the airport. But first, he had a few changes to make. Reaching into the breast pocket of his uniform, Slade withdrew Kozel's ID card. He felt bad for swiping it, but it was the only way out of this country.

He placed Kozel's image on the windshield, and Slade began to change. Slowly, Slade's hair grew darker, and shorter. His skin turned paler, and his cheekbones became more prominent. His eyes darkened to a deep indigo. Slade accessed his internal drive, pulling clips of Kozel's speech together. After a few minutes, the image of Kozel on the windshield and the image Slade saw in the hover's mirror matched. He opened his mouth to speak. When the voice came out, it was not his own:

"My name...is...Dmytro Kozel."

Ahead, the sky was beginning to darken as evening approached. The hover's headlights reflected against the painted lines of the highway. Though he knew he had to remain vigilant, Slade felt his eyes closing, being drawn into sleep after the frantic day he'd had. He reached forward, setting the hover's alarm to wake him one hundred kilometers before the borders of Kiev. On the radio, the voice of John Lennon began the first verse of Slade's favorite song:

Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better...

Relaxed for the first time in four days, Slade fell asleep with a smile.

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Igor's Hostel, Ural Territory, December 6, 2308 03:08:12 (T-Minus 07:02:51:48)

Hotaru woke well before her alarm, but resisted the urge to vault out of bed and rush off to the airport. She lay under the covers, feeling the warmth they provided. Though her body was technically at rest, her mind was already in the Ukraine, trying to track down 0247893.

She knew her first step would be to get to the hotel where he had stayed. Maybe he had left a clue. _Not likely_ , She chided herself. If he was as good as Control made him out to be, 0247893 would be a difficult Target to find, much less Deliver to.

Hotaru fought the urge to rise for five more minutes, then decided it was a losing battle, and headed for the shower. As she passed the dresser, she noticed the clock read 03:15. _Well, I_ do _like being early_. She thought to herself. Pulling her top over her head, she entered the bathroom. She tossed her pajama top in the corner of the bathroom, and her bottoms followed suit. She walked over to the shower, programming it for forty-one degrees.

The water sprayed against the back of the shower, and she stepped into the stream, feeling the warmth penetrate her body. Steam rose up around her as she washed her hair. She reached for the vanilla scented soap, but opted for the decidedly female scent of rose petals. Perhaps it would lend an advantage to her hunt. She stood in the water for another minute, relishing the moment of free time she had before her world took off at a rapid pace once again.

Shutting off the water, she opened the glass door, and grabbed the towel, wrapping around her body as she stepped onto the heated tile floor. A second towel was in her hand instantly as she dried her hair, and then worked it up into a loose bun. Two chopsticks held the bun in place, and she padded off to the bedroom to dress.

Her uniform had been cleaned and was waiting on the dresser, but Hotaru wanted a different approach to this mission. She would wear the uniform when the time was right. There was no use in telling 0247893 she was the one who was after him right away. Perhaps Slade would reveal himself if he felt there was no heat on him. It was worth a shot.

Turning to the dining room, Hotaru found the three outfits she had asked Igor to get for her. _Which one for today?_ She wondered. She inspected the three individually, hoping inspiration would strike her.

The first was red, which she thought would highlight her complexion and eyes. It looked to be a tight-fitting number, with gold accents up the left side, and a high neckline. As she examined the accents more closely, she realized that it was actually a dragon, whose head stood atop the left shoulder, and whose body and tail wove its way down the dress to end at the hem, which was about two centimeters off the floor. Gold high-heeled shoes completed the outfit.

Nice, but a little formal for a flight to the Ukraine. Perhaps if I have to go to a state dinner to find him.

She moved to the second, a black pencil dress. There was a red striped belt that accessorized nicely with the onyx bracelets lying next to the belt on the table. A pair of black patent leather Mary Janes waited with the outfit. The neckline was a little daring for Hotaru, but it was definitely a better choice than the formal dress.

_Maybe after I Deliver this Letter, I'll join the iCorps secretarial pool._ She chuckled to herself.

The last choice was a matching tailored jacket and pant set. A beige tweed, there was a white blouse with a high, stiff collar placed alongside it. A pair of dark brown flats completed the outfit. She smiled to herself as she realized this was the outfit she was looking for. On a whim, she decided on the pencil dress and its accessories too, should the need arise for something a little daring.

"A girl can never have too many outfits."

Dressed in the suit, Hotaru packed the pencil dress, shoes, and accessories along with her Emissary uniform in a small suitcase that Igor had left for her. He was sure a smart guy. But then again, he had been in the profession for a while, and probably knew more about what she needed than she did herself at this point.

She attached her chronometer, which read 04:30. Her flight left in four and a half hours. She needed breakfast. But first, she needed to settle the tab for these dresses with Igor. She dialed the front desk, and asked Igor to come up to her room. While she waited, she programmed the MKIII for eggs, bacon, and toast, with juice and coffee for two. As an afterthought she ordered a fruit plate and some toast in case Igor had already eaten. There was a polite knock at the door.

Opening it, she found Igor dressed in jeans and a cable-knit sweater. There were no food stains this time, and she felt as if she was looking at a different person.

"Igor, please come in." She stepped aside to let him pass.

"Emissary, I am honored. It is not everyday that I have the opportunity to eat breakfast with a lovely woman like yourself."

She smiled. "Keep trying, Igor. It won't get you anywhere. I have a Letter to Deliver."

"Oh? You are leaving so soon? I was hoping you would grace the hostel with your company for a few days more."

"I would love to. The hostel has exceeded every expectation I could have had. You do a wonderful job taking care of us Emissaries." She turned to the table, with its waiting food. "Shall we eat? Then we can settle the bill for these lovely outfits."

They both sat, and tucked in to the spread before them. It wasn't long before Igor broke the silence.

"Your mission, does it take you far?"

"To Ukraine Territory, actually," she said, animatedly. "I've never been, even on vacation."

"But that is outside your Zone..."

"A special Delivery."

"And you can't tell me about it, can you?"

Hotaru shook her head. "Classified," she said around a mouthful of eggs.

"Wow. That must be some assignment."

"Mmm hmm." She nodded. "Gave me seven days to complete it. Have you ever heard of that? That's insanely long."

Igor looked her square in the eyes. The soft grey of his eyes had turned to cold steel.

"Seven days?"

"Yeah..."

"Emissary, the _only_ mission requiring seven days is the termination of another Emissary. What happened?"

"I really shouldn't say. They made me verify my biometric identity twice. Made me swear to keep the information private."

"I'll respect that. But if you ever get into trouble, remember that you can always come here, and I'll patch you up."

She smiled, placing her hand on his wrist.

"Igor, you're the friendliest acquaintance I've ever met. Thank you for your hospitality thus far. Which reminds me, what is the total for the pencil dress, the beige suit, and the accessories that go with them?"

"You didn't like the red dress?"

"On the contrary! I _loved_ it. But it's a little formal for chasing someone, don't you think?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It was worth a try. Bet you looked killer in it."

"You wish. Stop trying to flirt with me and finish your eggs, what is the total?"

"Four hundred and fifty Royals."

She paused, mid-bite. "How much?"

"Four hundred and fifty Royals," Igor repeated. "I had to bargain for an hour to get that price."

Hotaru smiled. "Igor, relax. That price is fine. I was expecting a higher price."

They finished the eggs and toast, and Hotaru took a sprig of grapes from the plate. She stood, and walked to the window, looking out at the dark sky and the lights of the city twinkling below her. She was going to miss this place. After being here for less than a week, it already felt like home. Maybe when she retired, she'd come back.

"When do you leave?" He asked her.

"My flight's at nine. I need to be there by eight-thirty."

"Then you need to leave in twenty minutes. It's only about fifty minutes by hover, but the check-in lines are amazingly long, even for an Emissary. The normal rules don't apply here in Moscow."

"I'm all packed." She turned to face Igor. "Thanks again for your help. Having someone to watch out for you is very rare in our line of work."

"You are most welcome." He stood from the table, placed his palms together, and made a short bow to her. "I do hope to see you again, Emissary."

He turned, and in one fluid motion scooped the red dress and gold shoes up in one hand, and the dirty plates in his other. He walked to the door, opened it with his elbow, and headed out to the hallway. The door closed behind him with a loud click.

Hotaru suddenly felt alone, empty. She shook her head in annoyance, and finished packing her things. She made one final sweep of the room, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, and headed down to the lobby, where her hover would be waiting.

Igor was waiting at the front desk with two bills for her to authorize. The _iCorps_ bill had two days lodging and food on it. She pressed her thumbprint to the bottom of the Tablet, authorizing the purchase. She turned to the second bill \- the one for the outfits. She scanned the bill to make sure Igor hadn't forgotten anything. It all looked in order. She tapped a couple keys and added a fifty Royal tip for his services. She quickly authorized it, and handed both Tablets back.

"I'll be back, Igor. Don't worry. The service is too good for me to stay away."

She smiled and walked to her hover. An attendant had already put her luggage in the trunk. She climbed into the driver's seat, and programmed the hover for Domodedovo Airport. As the hover pulled away, Hotaru wondered if she'd be able to make good on her last statement

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Kiev, Ukraine December 5, 2308 23:47:12

Slade arrived at the Kiev border just before midnight. There were no guards, no checkpoints. He kept his disguise in place though. He would have to be Kozel until he reached The College. It was a risk, there was no doubt about it. His dwelling would be the _first_ place they'd look for him. But it was also the place he had hidden the key to his cache.

_Hindsight's 20/20, buddy. Should have hidden the key somewhere else._ He thought to himself

There was nothing he could do about that now. He deactivated Auto on his hover, and piloted toward Zhullany airport. At this hour of the night, there were next to no hovers on the highway. Which is why the flashing blue lights of the police hover seemed so bright behind him. He pulled over a lane to let them pass, but they moved in behind him. Cursing, he pulled the hover over to the shoulder, rolled down the window, and stopped the engine.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Slade saw two uniforms get out of the hover, a man and a woman. _Was this the hit squad? Already? Control sure works fast._ He loosened the Boom Stick in its sheath. The female officer approached the driver's side of the hover, and Slade knew that the other was flanking the hover, gun drawn.

"Good evening, sir. May I see your identification, please?"

Slade handed Kozel's ID card out the window to the officer. His right hand rested on his Boom Stick, fingers clenching and unclenching around the handle. The officer suddenly lowered her head to the window.

"Dmytro? Is that really you?"

Slade froze. This officer _knew_ Kozel? This was going to head south _very_ quickly.

"It is me," Slade replied in Kozel's voice. "But I have had an extremely long day. I apologize, but I have forgotten you."

The officer stood, placing her hands on her hips indignantly.

"Figures," she said. "The one person who helped you pass all those tests in the academy, and you would forget me. As if _anyone_ could forget Vasylyna."

That name sounded familiar. Slade scanned his internal drive and made the connection - Kozel's daughter was named Vasylyna.

"I didn't completely forget you," Slade told her. "I named my daughter after you. She will be twelve this august."

She snorted, and then began to laugh.

"You named your daughter after _me_? That's rather bold, Dmytro. What does your wife think of that? Did you tell her about our late night study sessions?" She ran her hands down her sides, following her slender, curvaceous figure. "How you studied more than just the course material?"

Slade had no idea what she was talking about, but felt his cheeks flushing, and allowed it to show on his image of Kozel's cheeks. Vasylyna noticed immediately.

"I'll take that to mean you haven't told her." She handed him his ID card back, and stood, talking over the roof of the hover. "He's good. I know him from the academy."

"What about the plate?" The unseen officer asked.

Vasylyna leaned down again. "Yes, Dmytro, what about the plate? It is registered to the owner of a gas station more than four hundred miles from here."

"I stopped for some fuel on my way here. I was helping an Emissary. I'm now on my way home. I went inside to grab some snacks." He held up an empty soda can and sandwich wrapper as proof. "Maybe someone switched them while I was inside?"

"The security camera shows someone driving the hover beside another car, but the feed is fuzzy after that. Do you know anything about that?"

"After I fuelled, I parked beside a red junker hover to make room for the hover behind me. Then I bought these snacks. That is all I can tell you."

"When you get home, make sure that you get a plate re-issued for this hover. I'm vouching for you, Dmytro. Don't make me regret it."

"I won't. Thank you, Vasylyna." He smiled up at her.

"Go. Do some work." She walked back to the police hover, and got into the driver's seat. The blue flashing stopped, and Slade heard a second door shut. The other officer was in the hover. Time to go. He signaled, and merged back onto the highway. A sign indicated that the airport was only twenty kilometers away. He sped off toward the airport, being careful to keep the hover at the speed limit.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, but he swore that every hover that passed him looked like they were on the hunt for something - or some _one_. He would feel much safer in the air. As he pulled into the terminal, Slade scanned the flight boards for his flight. No delays. _More good news_. Relaxing slightly, Slade parked the hover, grabbed his bag from the trunk, and headed into the terminal

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Zhullany Airport, Kiev December 6, 2308 07:14:19 (T-Minus 06:22:45:41)

Hotaru walked the ramp from the plane to the terminal at Zhullany Airport. Her travel time from Moscow had been just under an hour. She had already made arrangements for a hover to be at her disposal, and her first move was going to be The Agora in Crimea. No matter how hard she tried, she could not find any other way to get to Crimea than driving. That meant another eleven hours. Almost half a day gone, and she would be no closer to 0247893.

She walked through the doorway at the end of the ramp and into the terminal proper. People walked by her on their way to and from flights. She pulled out her Tablet, and accessed the picture of 0247893. _Was he at the airport? Trying to get away?_ Raising her Tablet to her eye level, she scanned the crowd, using its retinal recognition program to find him. After a few minutes with no results, Hotaru headed to her waiting hover.

As she stood on the terminal's moving sidewalk, she scanned her Tablet for information that might prove useful in tracking her Target. Following standard operating procedure, she downloaded all current copies of the local newspapers for reading on the way to Crimea. In a separate window, she called up the pictures of the people associated with 0247893 - Kozel, Herman and Principal McDonald.

Committing Herman's picture to memory would be useless since he was already dead. The other two, however would be very useful in finding him. McDonald was first on her tablet, and Hotaru studied her features, her eyes, the set of her jaw. Being a public official would help also, as Hotaru could ask for a meeting upon her arrival in Crimea. Next came the picture of Kozel. A chime indicated the upcoming end of the sidewalk, and Hotaru lowered her Tablet in preparation of changing sidewalks.

Stepping off the first sidewalk, she took five strides, and hopped on the next, the last one before she would reach the terminal's outer ring, and her hover. Placing her left hand on the railing for support, she looked at her Tablet again. The picture of Kozel stared back at her. She committed his face to her memory, and placed her Tablet back into her bag. Kozel was probably on his way back from Crimea. She would have Control track him down once she got to the-

Wait. Up ahead. Was that...? Hotaru quickly grabbed her Tablet and flipped to Kozel's information. The guy up ahead sure fit the info she had on Kozel. She pushed ahead on the moving sidewalk, carefully nudging people out of the way in her quest to reach the man. She could see his leather jacket, his dark, close cropped hair. It had to be him, but she couldn't use her Tablet's retinal scanning program because he had his back to her.

He turned left at the end of the walkway, heading for the departures level. She ran after him, no longer caring for the rules and decorum of the moving walkway. Hotaru rounded the corner, and spied him about one hundred meters ahead of her, just passing into the open concourse. She angled toward the wall, where there were less people, and took off into a full sprint.

She closed the distance - less than fifty meters now. He was approaching one of the desks, reaching into his pocket to show his ID. Hotaru closed the distance in seconds, and grabbed the man's left shoulder, spinning him toward her. She raised her Tablet, activating it and bringing it beside his face. She stared in shock. They didn't match.

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you were someone else."

The man glared at her, and then turned back to the woman at the ticket counter. He retrieved his ID card and picked up his briefcase before walking through the gate to catch his flight. Hotaru was dumbfounded. She had been sure that he was Kozel. Shaking her head in annoyance, she headed off to find her exit, and the hover that waited for her

# CHAPTER NINETEEN

Zhullany Airport, Kiev December 6, 2308 07:37:13 (T-Minus 06:22:22:47)

Sitting at a table in the food area, Slade watched the Emissary head off down the long hallway towards the exit. He had captured a few pictures of her on his Tablet. When he had a minute on the plane, he would figure out who she was, and how to best avoid her. In the meantime, she posed no threat while she was in Crimea. Soon, though, she would pick up his trail, and then he would have a _real_ test on his hands.

He checked his chronometer. Twenty minutes till the first of three flights would board and take him home. A sudden thought struck him. Everything Control did was through his chronometer. His calls. His calendar. His messages. Why hadn't they relayed the information to the Emissary after him? He would need to change out his chronometer quickly, lest they play that route, and apprehend him before he got to his cache. Problem was, you didn't just buy a chronometer from the corner store. While Slade had the funds, at the moment, he seriously lacked the opportunity.

_The same probably applies to my Tablet._ Slade thought. _In fact, I bet Control has copies of everything in my Tablet also._ He would have to erase his Tablet, and limit its connection to the internet to ensure his continued secrecy. Slade flicked a switch on the side of his Tablet, disconnecting it from the main server. _At least they can't track me with_ this _anymore._ As a precaution, he uploaded the information from his Tablet to his internal drive.

When the upload was complete, Slade rose from the chair, paid his tab in cash leaving a generous tip for the server, and headed to his flight. He paused long enough to buy a magazine from the newsstand adjacent to his gate, then showed Kozel's ID card to the agent, and boarded the plane. Back at the newsstand, the screen on his Tablet alternated black and white in rapid succession before settling on a flat grey. The green power indicator light faded until it was black. His Tablet was dead.

# CHAPTER TWENTY

The Pentagon, Washington, December 6, 2308

An old man with intense blue eyes stared at a view screen. His hair was not military styled, but was still kept short, neatly trimmed and manageable. In his younger days, he would have been called dashing by the ladies whom he used to take to the holo-films, but the time spent as a virtual prisoner in this office had taken its toll, and his skin had taken on the pallor of someone who sees limited sunlight.

He had an average build, but if one looked closer, they would see that this man had worked out in the past. There was noticeable definition in his arms and legs, yet the years as a desk-jockey had allowed a bit of sagging around the midsection.

On the desk beside him were binders full of clippings. If one were to look into the binders, they would find articles on the creation of the Letter, the history and statistics involved and how they linked to health concerns, disease, and crime. There were studies into the health trends, the rise and fall of diseases like Cancer, Heart Disease, and Smallpox. One might think that the old man had an interest in biological studies.

In actuality, the old man was well versed in biology, as well as chemistry, physics, and programming in multiple languages. He had spent the bulk of his career watching the Emissary program. He had seen thousands of Emissaries come and go, delivering Letters and staying perfectly within the parameters of the program.

He expertly keyed commands into the terminal, pulling up pieces of information on Emissary Meechan. He knew about Meechan's first Letter. How he had chosen Duty over Family – and what that had done to the young Emissary, how it had allowed him to progress up the ranks, as it were. The old man had watched screens for so long, he couldn't remember any other life. He absently stroked the binder closest to him as his eyes flitted from screen to screen surveying, studying.

_Could he be the one?_ The old man wondered. _Has my time finally come? Will I finally be able to rest?_

# CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Zhullany Airport, Kiev December 6, 2308 07:57:26 (T-Minus 06:22:02:34)

Hotaru sped away from Zhullany airport on her mission to get to Crimea as fast as possible. With eleven hours to go, she put the hover on auto and settled in for the ride. She transferred the date from her Tablet to the windshield and used her fingers to manipulate the data. On the left side of the windshield, she placed all the data she had copied from Abujamal's computer, arranging into groups by disease - Cancer, Smallpox, and Heart Disease.

As she sorted, the Cancer category became the largest, and she consolidated Smallpox and Heart Disease into one category to make room on the windshield. Fully sorted, she then pulled all the information on 0247893 and placed it on the right side of the windshield. His partner, Kozel was there, his trip to Crimea, and the meeting with Principal McDonald all played prominent roles in the information she had gathered, allowing her to formulate a plan.

On a whim, she activated the hover's onboard computer system.

"Computer, search data on screen and show any correlations found between the two groups, no matter how tenuous."

"Working. One moment, please."

Different pieces of data brightened then darkened as the computer accessed them and then moved on. It was hard to follow the path that the computer took in its work, but Hotaru felt as if she was being treated to her own personal fireworks show. She glanced out the window to see the city's edge as they travelled onto Crimea. Farm land lay fallow, ready for next year's plowing and planting. Factories in the distance had smoke stacks that belched dark grey smoke into the air. _Clothing_ , Hotaru thought to herself. _That's what they manufacture here._

A double chirp from the computer brought her out of her reverie and back to the task at hand. Three pieces of data had been highlighted: A newspaper article containing the obituary of a Milena Sturmvich from ten years ago, a picture of Abujamal from about ten years ago, and the government-issued ID card belonging to one Dmytro Kozel _. What was the connection there? Did Abujamal and Kozel know each other?_ One thing was for certain. She needed to get to Dmytro Kozel _before_ she got to 0247893. Not only would it help her sort out Abujamal's information, it would also provide her the most reliable link to 0247893.

She deactivated the windshield's display, disengaged auto, and cranked the wheel hard to the left, spinning the hover in a one hundred and eighty degree spin that pointed her back to Kiev. She jammed her foot down on the accelerator, and sped back toward her new target: Dmytro Kozel.

"Computer. Locate _iCorps_ Diplomatic Liaison Officer Dmytro Kozel."

"Working. One moment please."

Hotaru pushed the hover as fast as she could, swerving around slower moving vehicles on the M05. The maneuvers earned her many dirty looks, but she had bigger concerns than upset drivers.

"Subject located. Officer Dmytro Kozel. Malfunction. Officer Dmytro Kozel found in two places."

"Two places? Elaborate."

"Officer Dmytro Kozel found at personal residence Karpats'ka St 62A, and on flight seventy-six from Kiev to Paris. Flight took off seventeen minutes ago. Estimated time of arrival of flight seventy-six is one hour, seven minutes, sixteen seconds."

"Computer. List on screen the two individuals."

The screen showed identical pictures of Kozel's ID card.

"Computer. Show types of identification used to verify target."

Words appeared under the two pictures. Under the picture on the left, Hotaru read the words _ID Card_. Under the picture on the right, she read _Fingerprint and Retinal_.

"Computer, which one is on flight seventy-six?"

A red border flashed around the picture on the left.

"Damn!" The real Kozel was at home. And that meant that 0247893 was getting away from her.

She placed the hover on auto, allowing her time to think. On one hand, she would be able to unravel more of Abujamal's mystery by talking with Kozel. On the other hand, every minute her Target got farther away, _and_ harder to find.

"Computer. Auto drive to Karpats'ka St 62A, priority alpha."

The on-board computer began a navigation program that weaved and swerved through traffic to a residence in a quiet neighborhood. Coming to rest in front of a bungalow with grey siding and blue curtains in the windows, the computer announced her destination.

"You have arrived at Karpats'ka St 62A."

Hotaru got out of the hover, and headed through the wooden gate and then up the narrow walkway. She mounted three steps before coming to a red door. She looked for an announcer bell, but could not find one. She raised her hand, and rapped solidly three times on the door.

Moments passed, and Hotaru knocked again. This time, she heard movement from within the dwelling. Seconds later, she heard the unmistakable sound of a deadbolt being opened, and the door swung inward. In front of her, a man of average height, with dark hair and violet eyes stared at her.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"I hope so, sir. My name is Hotaru Kogame." She raised her _iCorps_ ID Card. "I am looking for a man by the name of Dmytro Kozel."

"I am he." Kozel replied. "What does this have to do with?"

"I am seeking information on patients in connection with a Doctor Husain Abujamal."

"And you need me why?"

"Your name was on the list of people I've been sent to question. It seems that Doctor Abujamal has been making some serious claims against the government of Northern Europe."

Kozel nodded, unsure where she was going. "I still don't see how this concerns me."

"You are the brother of Milena Sturmvich, are you not?"

"Yes." Kozel slumped, shoulders collapsing under the weight of a bad memory. "She was my sister. She passed away three years ago. Today would have been her thirtieth birthday."

"I'm sorry to hear that. May I come in? It would be a little less conspicuous than me questioning you on your porch."

Kozel stood to the side, holding the door for Hotaru.

"Please. We can use the piano room."

As Hotaru entered Kozel's residence, she marveled at the amount of _stuff_ that was in Kozel's house. There were figurines, pictures, knick knacks and rugs of all shapes and sizes. She followed Kozel into a room on the left.

Stepping through the doorway, Hotaru was surprised to be in a room that seemed too big to fit in the house. From the outside, she hadn't been able to see the extent of the side of the house, but Kozel and his wife had obviously added on to the house for this specific purpose. Dark brown mahogany floors were buffed to a high sheen. Sand colored walls were divided a third way up the wall with wainscoting of the same wood as the floor.

Across from the window, a large mahogany bookcase was filled with books. _Actual books._ A quick glance at the titles included works by Yates, Shakespeare, and Crichton. A recessed nook held a glass pedestal backlit by a soft white light. Resting on the pedestal was a hardcover copy of _The MVP -_ a book by turn of the millennium author _Scott Sigler_. One of Sigler's best works, it had obviously earned a place of honor in Kozel's heart. Two oversized wingback chairs sat on either side of the bay window, providing a convenient place to read.

What really took Hotaru's breath away, though, was the grand piano that sat in the center of the room. Polished to a high gloss, the lid had been propped open, revealing the inner workings. Hotaru was speechless.

"Do you play?" Hotaru asked after she had recovered her voice.

"No. Lyuba, my wife does. She's been teaching the kids the basics. I think Vasylyna might be able to master it, but Yakiv won't." Kozel said, chuckling. "He has hands like mine."

"I haven't seen a real piano in years. It's beautiful."

"Thank you. We worked very hard to be able to buy it. Now you said something about Milena?" Kozel indicated the chair closest to the piano, and then sat in the other, sinking into the soft leather.

"Yes," Hotaru said, recalling the reason for her visit. "We have recently discovered information that indicated a potential attack on the _iCorps_ medical system. While searching the information seized in the raid, we found information on your sister. She died of cancer, did she not?"

Kozel nodded. He was about to speak, but Lyuba came through the doorway carrying a tray with two steaming cups. She set the tray down between Hotaru and Kozel, and turned, leaving the room without saying a word. Beside the cups rested a plate filled with assorted baking - cookies, breads and tarts - along with a small bowl of sugar and a pitcher of cream.

"My wife, Lyuba." Kozel indicated, pointing the way that Lyuba had gone. "Always the hostess. Please, help yourself."

Hotaru took one of the cups of coffee, plopped two cubes of sugar in and began to stir. She took a sip and smiled as the warmth of the liquid went down her throat.

"Your wife makes great coffee," Hotaru said.

"She makes great _everything_. Anything in the kitchen, and she is a goddess." He placed his cup on the table. "To answer your question, yes, Milena died from cancer. Aggressive throat cancer. One day she was fine, the next day she found a lump next to her trachea. Three days later, she was dead. There was...nothing the doctors could do."

"I'm sorry. And there was no indication prior to this lump that developed instantly to her having cancer?"

"You make it sound like we made it up."

"No." Hotaru said. "I'm just verifying the data. Some of the data recovered suggests that cancer was being used as a weapon, taking out specific targets. There is no conclusive proof, but we are researching to our fullest capacity."

Kozel sat forward, mouth open. "And you think some _one_ , not cancer, killed my sister?"

"As I said, we have no proof."

"And what does this have to do with this Doctor Abujabu, or whatever?"

"In all the cases we have data on, Abujamal was the attending physician."

Kozel stood rapidly, anger evident on his face, fists balled at his sides.

"He _killed_ my sister?"

"Again, we have no proof. And we wouldn't be having this discussion if he hadn't died two days ago at his office in Moscow."

Kozel sat again, anger deflated at having no target to direct it at.

"I guess he reaped what he sowed, then."

"Perhaps. Which brings me to my next question. Where is Slade Meechan, Emissary 0247893?"

He looked up at her, alarm registering on his face.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since yesterday."

"Really? That strikes me as surprising, seeing as you gave him your ID card to board a flight to Paris."

Alarm turned to shock, then confusion as Kozel wrestled with the idea. "I did no such thing! I have my ID card right here-" He stood, reaching into his pocket, pulling at a string attached to his belt. As his hand followed the string to its conclusion, he was shocked to see the end devoid of his ID card.

"I see that you take care of the things that are important to you." Hotaru said, accusingly.

"You have no-"

"I'll ask again. Where is 0247893?"

"You just told me he was in Paris. Why are you asking me?" Kozel said.

"Because I think you're covering for him. Hiding him."

"I told you, I haven't seen him since Crimea yesterday around one pm. He told me to go back home, and he ran the other way."

"And you didn't follow him?"

"No! He told me someone was coming for him. Wait! You're that someone. You're here to kill him!"

"I have orders to Deliver to him. Nothing more." She said. She wasn't sure how much Kozel knew, and there was no point in telling him information he didn't need to know.

Kozel stood from his chair, pointing toward the front of the house.

"You may leave now, Ms. Kogame." He said, icily. "Please keep me informed about your investigation of that doctor, but I have nothing else to say to you."

Hotaru stood, taking one step toward the doorway, but having no intention of leaving.

"On the contrary, Officer Kozel. I believe that you will tell me everything you know about Emissary 0247893, including his mission, and any other information you learned while working with him."

"I will not." Kozel shifted his weight from foot to foot. He glanced around the room, looking for a way to force her out of the house.

In the blink of an eye, Hotaru had crossed the distance, and had Kozel's right arm twisted high behind his back. He grimaced, and had his teeth clenched tight to keep from screaming in pain.

"You _will_ tell me, Officer Kozel. One way or another, you will tell me."

Though Kozel outweighed Hotaru by twenty kilograms, incapacitating him allowed Hotaru to force him forward, toward the piano. As they closed the distance, Kozel put his right foot out against the piano, pushing back against her. She released his arm, and he spun around, ready for the attack. Hotaru launched herself against him, a right hook swinging directly at his head. He ducked backward, feet slipping effortlessly on the wood floor beneath.

Before he could recover, he felt his feet knocked from beneath him. She had swept his legs out, and as he fell to the ground, she moved to a position in front of him, jumping on him as he connected with the floor. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and the piano lid shook free from its prop slamming down, a dissonant chord echoing in the room. He raised his hand to his head, protecting his head and neck, and tried to knock her off using his knees.

"Where. Is. Slade?" Each word was punctuated by a punch to his ribs. She let off for a second so he could answer.

"I told you! I left him in Crimea!"

Hotaru jumped up, rearing back with her right foot. She brought it forward with deadly accuracy, connecting with the soft tissue around Kozel's kidneys.

"Where is he?!?

Kozel rolled into the fetal position, his only instinct that of self-preservation. She kicked again, her foot meeting his elbow, and he was rewarded by a cry of pain. As she recovered, Kozel rolled to his hands and knees, trying to catch his breath. When her foot buried itself in his stomach, he realized his mistake, and fell prone, gasping for breath.

"I..told..you..." was all he could manage. He placed his palms on the floor, preparing to rise once more. He was roughly hauled to his feet, and slammed against the piano.

"Officer Kozel. You are trying my patience." He could see a crazed look in her eyes. Like the look Slade had had during that fight outside McDonald's Office.

"I honestly don't know." He said quietly, unable to produce more than a whisper with the amount of air in his lungs.

"Then I have no use for you." Hotaru said.

She reached back, and quickly delivered a punch straight to his Adams apple. His hands went reflexively to his throat as he tried to force air into his lungs through a damaged airway. He started to cough, a choking, hacking sound that reverberated through the strings of the piano, sending a discordant echo throughout the room. As he dropped to the floor, Hotaru delivered a kick to the side of Kozel's head that sent it rebounding off the sturdy leg of the beautiful instrument.

Hitting the ground, Kozel's body unconsciously fought for air as the wound in his head sent streams of blood onto the mahogany floor. A pool of crimson liquid began to form, flowing around the outline of his body seeking the easiest path. Still struggling for breath, his body shuddered twice before becoming motionless. Still frustrated with her lack of information, Hotaru began to kick the body repeatedly, screaming in frustration with each kick.

She might have kicked the body for another few minutes, venting frustration, if it were not for the sound of the girl's scream that dragged her forcefully out of her rage. Looking up, Hotaru saw a young girl of about twelve pointing at the body of her father.

"NO!" Vasylyna screamed. "NO! WHAT DID YOU DO?" Her hands were balled into fists, tears streaming down her face. Hotaru looked from the girl to Kozel's body to her blood stained shoes and pants.

"I..." Hotaru began, but before she could continue, Lyuba and Yakiv were in the doorway alongside Vasylyna. Lyuba took a step toward Hotaru before her sight fell to Kozel's body, and she collapsed with grief at the loss of her husband.

Hotaru fled the room, opening the front door and running to her hover, tears of her own beginning to form. Inside, she shut the door, and sped away.

"Computer." She said between sobs. "Auto-drive to Zhullany airport. 

# CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

JFK Airport, Eastern UT, December 7, 2308 06:12:12 (T-Minus 05:23:47:48)

Slade stood in the line of people waiting to check out through customs. As he slowly moved closer to the desk, he continually scanned the crowds for the woman he had seen in Kiev. She would still be after him, and although he had not seen her since Kiev, there was no doubt about it. Being at JFK International airport, there was quite a risk of running into someone he knew with its one hundred and twenty-seven thousand daily passengers. He checked his chronometer. Almost a day had passed since Herman had died, and she had been after him within six hours. _iCorps_ was on the ball, and they wanted Slade's head. After three flights and almost twenty-four consecutive hours in the air, he was almost home. Willing to take no chances this close to home, he patiently waited with the thirty or so others as the officials diligently worked to process the individuals entering The UT.

He looked up to see the official beckoning him forward. He stepped quickly to the desk.

"Purpose for being in the territory?"

"I'm travelling to the Eastern UT on business." Slade said in Kozel's voice.

"ID, sir?"

Slade handed over Kozel's ID card, making sure that the guard noticed his _iCorps_ logo on his coat. The guard visually matched Slade to the card, and then scanned the card into the computer. He paused, looking up at Slade.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step out of line, and come with me please."

Slade was confused. The card had worked in Kiev, Paris and Toronto. Had they caught on to him finally?

"Is there a problem?" Slade asked, looking around quickly. He didn't notice anyone coming for him, but it was best to be prepared.

"Please come with me."

The guard indicated a door marked _Authorized Personnel Only_. Slade wasn't sure he wanted to go with the guard, but at this point, it appeared he had no choice. He followed the guard through the door, and down a white hallway to a black door with a silver plate. The plate read _Holding # 1_. The guard unlocked the door and ushered Slade inside.

"Can I get you anything? A cup of coffee, some water?"

Slade shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you."

The guard nodded, and left the room, shutting the door behind him. As soon as the door clicked shut, Slade grabbed the handle, twisting it in an attempt to open the door. It was locked. He pulled again and again, trying in vain to open the lock. He looked frantically around the room for an escape, but there was none. Void of a window or any other aperture, the room contained a stool, a desk that was bolted to the wall, and a communication terminal.

Slade went immediately to the terminal, pulling it forward and down. He reached behind it, feeling for the opening that housed the memory chip. Finding it, he removed the chip, and placed it between his teeth. He then twisted his chronometer free from its base, and removed the memory chip from underneath the glowing display. Swapping chips, he replaced the terminal on the wall just as the door opened.

"Problem, son?"

A tall man walked into the room. He had jet black hair, and eyes to match. As Slade looked closer, he realized that his eyes were _so_ black that you couldn't differentiate between the iris and the pupil. The man was slender, but built, and carried a Boom Stick in a sheath on his left side.

"Trying to make a call. Terminal's not working."

"It works when we allow it to work."

"Can you tell me why I'm in here?"

"To put it simply. You're dead." Slade felt a chill penetrate to his core.

"I'm sorry? Dead?"

"Yes, Officer Kozel, you are dead. This afternoon about one pm, Kiev local time. And yet here you are. Can you explain this amazing phenomenon?"

"I don't under-"

"Or perhaps, you would like to explain why you murdered Officer Kozel, Emissary 0247893."

Slade froze. _How did they figure me out? Retinal scans, of course!_ He mentally slapped himself for being so short-sighted. Slade stood straight, assessing the man. What would be his first move? He didn't recognize him from The College, so he probably was only hired help. And the woman was clearly the Emissary after him. Had _iCorps_ sent _two?_

Slade relaxed his control on his sub dermal tattoo. Slowly, the image of Kozel faded, and Slade's true form emerged. The man watched with amazement, interested and frightened at the same time.

"I have no idea what you are talking about. The last time I saw Kozel, he was heading home to his wife and kids."

"Evidence, including retinal scans, places you at Officer Kozel's residence sixty minutes before his murder."

"That's impossible! I've been travelling for over twelve hours! Use your head. I can't be in two places at once."

"Kozel was. At home, and flying around the world."

"I'm telling you I didn't kill Kozel. He helped me! There is more at play here! Did your sources tell you about Randy Herman and the Principal of Crimea smuggling adolescents into the territory to bolster their population?"

"That doesn't concern me at the moment. The murder of Dmytro Kozel does."

"And I'm telling you I know _nothing_ about it!"

"We'll see."

The man turned to exit the room. Slade ripped the communication terminal from the wall and flung it at the man's back. It connected square between the shoulder blades, sending the man off balance. Slade lunged forward, grabbing the man's Boom Stick and releasing its energy into the man in one fluid movement. The guard hit the floor, frozen. There was a knock at the door.

"Everything ok in there?" A voice from the other side of the door.

"Fine." Slade answered. He quickly took advantage of the man's condition, undressing him, and swapping their outfits. Studying the man closely, he used his tattoo to alter his appearance once again. He propped the man up on the stool, leaning him back against the wall for support. Slade banged on the door twice, and it opened, swinging in toward him. The guard in the hall looked at Slade, then glanced at the unconscious man on the stool. He did a double-take, seeing the same face on both men.

"Marcel?" He asked, pointing to the man on the stool.

"Yep." Slade replied flatly.

He reached out with quick reflexes, grabbing the guard's tie with his right hand, and pulling the guard toward him. As the guard was pulled through the doorway, Slade used his left hand to bring the door around, slamming it into the guard's head, knocking him unconscious. The man fell to the ground in a tangle of keys and limbs. Slade relieved the guard of his keys and stole into the hallway, letting the door shut with a click behind him.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

JFK Airport, Eastern UT, December 7, 2308 07:17:14 (T-Minus 05:22:42:46)

Slade walked briskly down the hallway, fastening the ring of keys to his belt. Each long stride sent an echo ahead of him as his shoes met the tiled floor. Fluorescent lights above illuminated every space, leaving no room for shadows or hidden personnel. He passed doorways to his right and left, all marked _Holding_ , with the respective consecutive number assigned to the silver nameplate.

There was no one else in the hallway, but Slade still felt the urge to look over his shoulder every hundred meters or so. He had no idea where he was at the moment, other than the general location of Terminal Five. He saw a door marked washroom up ahead, and he ducked inside, letting the door close behind him. Accessing his chronometer, he pulled up a map of the terminal, sending the image to the glass of the mirror in front of him. As he studied the map, he splashed some cold water on his face, refreshing himself for the next step in the plan.

Slade's chronometer also projected his location in the form of a blinking blue dot. He could see an exit ahead, about eight hundred meters. That exit would lead him to the airside portion of the airport. While on the wrong side of where he wanted to be, a circuitous route might be the best plan to get back to his hover in the parkade. _On the other hand..._

Slade keyed a number into his chronometer. His earpiece picked up the signal, and Slade waited for the connection. A soft chirp sounded in his ear, and then the familiar voice of Sarah was there.

"Hover 8669, how may I help you?"

"Sarah, it's Slade.

"Welcome back, Slade. How was your trip?"

"A disaster, I'm afraid. Sarah, can you get a fix on my location?"

"Affirmative. You are in terminal five, but you appear to be nowhere near the baggage area. In a holding room?"

"A long story. And I'm using a different chip. Can you lock onto this signal?"

"Working. One moment. Signal acquisition confirmed.

"Great! There is an exit approximately eight hundred meters from my current location. Can you meet me there in five minutes?"

"Affirmative, Slade."

"Thank you, Sarah. See you shortly."

Slade disconnected the call, and exited the washroom, walking toward the exit. Ahead, he noticed a pair of guards dressed in the same uniform he was wearing walking toward him. A male and a female, they were chatting amiably between each other. As they passed, they nodded politely in his direction before carrying on. He smiled at them in return.

_So far, so good_. He thought to himself. When they rounded the corner back toward Holding Room # 1, Slade relaxed. Apparently there were no retinal scanners in the maintenance corridors of Terminal 5. He walked the remaining distance to the exit door, and opened it, being flooded with bright sunlight. He could see his breath in the cool air, but the warmth of the sun took a bit of the chill off. Sarah waited, engine running. There was no frost on the windshield, and he knew that the interior of the car would be set at a nice ten degrees.

Entering the passenger side, he sat in the seat, buckling himself in. He adjusted the radio to an _iCorps_ frequency, hoping to pick up some information about the person or persons after him. After listening for a few minutes, he realized that all he was going to hear was the usual calls to Control about assisting in a Delivery. He changed from the radio to his personal music folder, and placed his Beatles folder on shuffle. The first song to play was "Let It Be". It suited his mood perfectly.

_"You have not specified a destination, Slade. Where would you like to go?"_ Sarah asked him.

Slade glanced up, catching his reflection in the mirror. He still looked like Marcel. He would have to change that before he got to the College. He remembered the Beta who had approached him at Melrose. He would be waiting there for Slade this evening. What was his name again? Something like a truck and a dog. Peter Ford? Nope. That wasn't it. Mack! Mack something. Mack...Terrier? Screw it.

"Sarah, I need to go home, but before we leave Terminal 5, I need you to display all Beta Emissaries in the third year with the first name of Mack." He paused, remembering Mack's features. "Remove all results with blonde hair, and those under one point eight meters."

"Working...one moment, Slade."

Pictures appeared on the hover's windshield. Slowly, at first, but then with quicker succession. Some of the pictures disappeared as the search terms rendered them not a match. At the end of Sarah's search, there were only three Macks: Mack Smith, Mack Izumi, and Mack York.

"Sarah, eliminate all except Mack York, and fill to screen."

Mack's face was instantly more than life sized, and Slade once again began to alter his features to match York's. When he was satisfied, he asked Sarah for a comparison.

"Ninety-nine point eight percent match. Only the retinas are different."

"Good enough for me," Slade said. "Let's go home."

Sarah drove back toward The College. As Slade passed the familiar streets of his hometown, he felt a mix of comfort and apprehension. Though he knew these streets like the back of his hand, he was acutely aware that, around any corner, down any alley, or behind any door could be the person assigned to eliminate him. He wasn't even sure if posing as Beta York was going to succeed. Though it wasn't unheard of to see a Beta in The College, it was the exception, and usually only at an Alpha's request. If he was stopped, he would have to tell whoever stopped him that he was here to see himself, which might put him at risk. _One hurdle at a time, Slade_. He told himself. First you get the key, then the cache, and then you disappear off the grid.

It sounded like a good plan.

Slade waited a full minute inside Sarah's protection before exiting the hover and walking in through the main entrance of The College. He had planned his entrance around lunch time as he knew the majority of the support staff would be either upstairs in the cafeteria, or out at the various establishments close to The College. Looking at the bank of empty first-floor offices as he ascended to the second floor in the elevator, he knew he had planned correctly.

It hadn't taken long for Slade to realize that someone would be guarding his dwelling. If the roles were reversed, Slade would have sent someone to guard the residence and alert him if the party returned home. The question was, who? And if it was someone Slade knew, could he trust them with his actual identity, or did he use his York alias?

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival to the second floor. The doors opened, and Slade saw an empty hall ahead of him. The elevator was north facing, so the radius in front of him was Radius VII - those Alphas born in July resided here. He quickly poked his head out of the elevator, scanning left and right to see what was waiting for him. So far, he saw nothing and no one.

He exited the elevator, bearing left around the circular corridor toward Radius II. As he passed each of the Radii from VI to III, he quickly stole a glance down the hallway. In his current guise as a Beta, he hoped that anyone who saw him would take his looking as interest and awe at the building that he aspired to live in. All Radii were clear, except IV, which had a couple discussing lunch plans as they walked toward Slade. They noticed his Beta uniform and smiled knowingly at him, encouragingly even. He managed a blush, and ducked his head as he continued around the corridor.

Radius II was a different matter. Not only were there people in the hallway, there were sentries stationed every four doorways, making a covert entrance next to impossible. He was only on the second floor, though, and an exterior infiltration was possible, but not during the day. He decided to take his chances. Slade turned into the hallway, and headed toward the first sentry, looking at room numbers as if trying to locate a specific dwelling.

"Can I help you, Beta?" the sentry said, his voice like gravel being dragged through tar. He towered over Slade by almost a meter, and outweighed him by fifty kilos or more of solid muscle. He, like all the other sentries Slade could see, wore white _iCorps_ uniforms with red epaulets highlighting the rank of the individual. This particular sentry had two chevrons, indicating a corporal. While Slade highly outranked him, he deferred to the sentry because it helped his current mission.

"Um, maybe." Slade feigned nervousness and uncertainty. "I'm looking for Dwelling Fifteen. I was asked to meet an Emissary here for a lunch date." He knew his neighbor was female, but he had never spoken to her since she took over the dwelling from its previous occupant.

The sentry scrutinized him.

"Beta York, isn't it?"

Slade nodded, feeling a dagger of fear in his stomach. If the sentry knew him, he might be done for now.

"Is this your first Alpha date? I would have thought that being in your third year, you'd have gone on a couple already."

Slade shuffled his feet side to side, shaking his head in the negative. The guard smiled, a broad warm smile that, had Slade not been on the run, might incline him to strike up more of a conversation with the sentry.

"I wouldn't worry, York. Alexandra is a great lady. She got her Alpha spurs last year. If she's taken a liking to you, you're in great hands. I'll escort you so the other sentries won't hassle you every ten meters."

"Thank you." Slade mumbled, pretending to be grateful for the escort. Suddenly, Slade realized that Alexandra might be home. "She told me that I should come to the door alone. Maybe she's nervous?"

The sentry chuckled again, a deep rumble that set his whole upper body aquiver. He slapped Slade on the back so hard that the real Beta York would have probably fallen straight over. As it was, Slade was nearly pushed down the hall with the slap, and he took a double step to maintain his balance. The sentry whistled two short notes down the hall, and the remaining sentries relaxed, ignoring Slade to the point that he might as well have been the carpet the he walked down.

Arriving at door fifteen, glanced at the sentries. The two closest to him were about ten meters away from him. That would make the next step a little easier. Next, he activated his chronometer. He had already pre-programmed Sarah to run a lock pick algorithm that would help assist him in getting into the dwelling. He knocked on the door, and stepped a half step back. While it appeared to the sentries that he was fidgeting with his chronometer, he was actually eliminating entry codes.

He stepped forward again as his chronometer let out a soft chirp. There was a green checkmark on its screen, and he knocked again on the door. Less than a second later, the door swung inward. Slade took one last look down the hallway and saw the first sentry give him a wink and a hand motion that said _Go for it. Don't be shy_. Slade smiled at him, and then stepped into Dwelling fifteen, shutting the door behind him

# CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Zhullany Airport, Kiev December 6, 2308 09:25:11 (T-Minus 06:20:34:49)

The half hour drive from Kozel's house to Zhullany Airport allowed Hotaru the time she needed to make herself presentable. She definitely regretted killing Kozel, but she didn't remember the fatal blow. She remembered pushing him up against the piano, intimidating him, and she remembered the scream of Kozel's daughter as she watched Hotaru standing over Kozel's body. The rest was a blur. She had heard of some Emissaries going into a rage before - almost berserk - but she had never experienced it before herself. It was terrifying.

By the time she had arrived at the airport, she had the presence of mind enough to formulate a plan for catching 0247893. She knew he had been in Paris while she was at Kozel's, but where he went from there was still uncertain to her. She would need to do some research before taking to the air after him. She pulled out her Tablet, accessing the information she had on her Target. He originated from the North America zone, Eastern UT territory. It was plausible that he would head all the way home, but certainly there would be people there that recognized him, and that would lead to his capture sooner.

Glancing down the screen, she noticed that he had mods. Nothing major, really. An Exobyte hard drive implant would allow him to store massive amounts of information on all sorts of subjects. Also probably meant that he had access to information that she didn't - unless she went through Control. A bionic shoulder replacement was no concern to her - many people, including herself - had bionic parts from various injuries that didn't heal properly. She fed the display of her Tablet to the windshield as she changed from the bloody suit to the pencil dress. She balled up the destroyed outfit, stuffed it in her bag, and resumed her research.

What _did_ catch her attention, though, was the sub dermal tattoo he had had implanted at his own cost. She was familiar with the basic models - able to scroll messages across the user's body. Her brother's friend used to scroll _Hotaru sucks_ across his forehead every time she had occasion to enter her brother's room when he was over. According to _iCorps_ files, Emissary 0247893 had purchased the Elite package, which allowed him to alter his physical appearance - it was all illusion, but it meant he could change his hair color, eye col- Wait! That man at the airport. The one who _looked_ like Kozel. Was that actually her Target in disguise? Had she had him in her grasp already once?

This put a definite advantage in her Target's court. If he could look like _anybody_ , she would have a much harder time finding him - especially on his own turf. Hotaru would have to rely on the retinal scanners located in ABMs, traffic lights and washrooms to track him. She contacted Control.

"Good afternoon, Emissary 0256773. How may we be of assistance?"

"I'm seeking confirmation that my Target's assets have been frozen."

"Action is affirmative. Funds and assets owned by Target have reverted to an escrow account pending Delivery. Once you have completed your assignment, all funds will be deposited in the General Fund for use by _iCorps_."

"Excellent. I need to initiate a retinal search for my Target. I have recently learned of a modification he possesses that may make him more difficult to track. ABMs, Traffic lights, and washrooms, please."

"Request accepted. Estimated time of functionality approximately two hours."

"That's acceptable. I will be in the air for the next few hours. Please inform me of any hits."

"As soon as they are processed. Control out."

The line went dead. Hotaru grabbed her travel bag from the back seat, pulled the suitcase out of the trunk and headed into the Terminal. She would start in New York. There was a greater chance he would try and hide out in a place he knew than one he didn't. As she walked to the ticket counter, she passed many people pulling suitcases behind them. Families with children preparing for vacations, business travelers, and _iCorps_ personnel all passed by the counter on the way to, or from their flights.

She noticed some of the men looking at her, and she blushed. To them, she probably looked like a stewardess waiting to catch her next flight. The agent behind the desk finished their call, and looked up at Hotaru.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"Yes," Hotaru flashed a smile. "I need a ticket to New York."

The agent looked down at her terminal as her fingers made click-clacks on the keys as she typed in the information.

"You're in luck!" The agent said, looking up. "I have a flight that leaves in two hours. Would you like window or aisle? The flight has seven seats left."

"Window," Hotaru replied, pulling her _iCorps_ ID from her bag. She handed it over to the agent, who scanned it into the terminal. Hotaru placed her hand on the pad to her right, verifying her identity. The agent handed her ID card back, and Hotaru thanked her for her assistance. As she walked away, she swore she saw someone following her, but it was hard to tell in a crowded place like this. She would have to isolate herself and make sure. Glancing up, she saw a sign that indicated the washroom was up ahead.

Hotaru angled for the washroom, keeping a close eye out for anyone that altered their course to follow. When no one immediately moved, she entered the washroom, chose an unoccupied stall, and entered, closing the door behind her. Sitting on the lid of the toilet she waited, listening as the two ladies who were in the washroom doing their makeup left, chatting animatedly about the new boyfriend that one of them had.

Sure that no one was in the washroom besides her, Hotaru carefully stood on the lid of the toilet, cautiously peering over the stall door. There was no one in the washroom. Relaxing, she stepped back onto the tiled floor. Suddenly, there was a booming sound, followed quickly by another. Hotaru ducked to the floor, and saw someone rear back with one foot, kicking in the stall two down from her. _Why was someone after_ her?

Another boom, and the stranger was one stall closer. The next stall would be hers. She dropped to the floor, watching as the feet moved in front of her stall. As he reared back to kick in her door, she flung herself under the wall, and into the stall he had just kicked. She felt a breeze on her ankles from the door hitting the wall as she cleared the wall. She waited for the next boom before she stood, afraid her shoes would make noise on the tiled floor.

She looked through the slightly open door of her stall into the mirror across from the toilets. She could see the man rearing back to kick the last stall open. When he did, she launched herself out of her stall, throwing a roll of toilet paper at him as she crossed the open space to the sinks.

The man raised his hands to ward off the unexpected projectile, and Hotaru pushed herself away from the sinks directly toward her attacker. They collided, crashing back through the door of the last stall. Hotaru forced him onto the seat using her momentum, and she landed a quick jab in his midsection before he brought up his foot, kicking her back out of the stall.

She quickly kicked off her shoes, realizing that high heels would be a definite disadvantage in a fight like this. He came at her, fists up, ready to strike, and Hotaru dropped into a defensive stance. A quick right from the man missed her head by centimeters as Hotaru dropped into a crouch, sending both her fists into her attacker's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. As he paused for breath, she brought her right leg around, tripping the man up.

He scrambled up from the tile, regaining his feet, and came at her again, slightly more cautious this time. She quickly looked around for something to help her. To her left, she saw a mop. Feinting to the right, she quickly changed to a forward direction, striking him in the shoulder with a glancing blow, sending him off balance.

She reached the mop, and kicked the handle three quarters of the way down, shattering the handle. She winced as a sliver of wood buried itself in the tender portion of the bottom of her foot. Raising the makeshift club, Hotaru advanced on the man, favouring her left foot. The man noticed this, and came at her left side, forcing her to take a defensive stance with her weight on her right foot.

He was close though, and Hotaru swung the handle, narrowly missing the man's head. He took advantage of her swing to charge in, tackling her to the ground. He grabbed the stick and forced it up over Hotaru's head, pinning her hands between it and the tile floor before she had a chance to let go.

She struggled against him, using her knees to inflict small amounts of pain to his back. He was sitting directly on her chest, and his weight was starting to cut off her ability to take in enough air to breathe. Reaching back, he slapped Hotaru on the left cheek before letting go of the stick and wrapping both hands around her throat.

Realizing that she had her hands back, she started punching the man in the head as he continued to choke her. He was dodging left and right, trying to stay out of the way of her blows. The added pressure of his continuously shifting weight added pain to the list of discomforts she was in.

She stopped hitting him, trying instead to pry his fingers from her neck. Long nails dug into his fingers, but he held fast. Spots began to appear in Hotaru's vision, and she knew her end was close. Redoubling her efforts, she twisted to the right, bucking her hips and raking her fingernails across his face.

He cried out in pain and fury, letting go of her neck to protect his injured eyes. Hotaru bucked again, and he was thrown to the side. She got to her knees, gasping for breath, her vision slowly returning to normal. The man was still on his back, hands over his eyes. Another two breaths, and she got to her feet.

The man rolled to his side, placing his hands on the floor. He glared up at her, blood oozing from deep cuts on his face. Hotaru kicked out with her left foot, catching him in the side of the head. He spun around, the energy from her kick sending him in a circular motion that stopped when his head collided with the support beam for the stall.

Shaking his head in fury, he jumped to his feet, unsteady but focused on Hotaru. He lunged again, swinging with a right at Hotaru's head. She dodged to the left, but too late noticed the left that was following the right. It connected solidly, knocking her off her feet and sending her sprawling over by the sinks. He came after her immediately, taking advantage of her current state.

Hotaru grabbed the edge of the sink and hauled herself to her feet. Blood dripped from a cut on her cheek. Sweat plastered her hair to her head, and she felt her knees beginning to buckle. She glanced to her left and saw an automated hand dryer. She let herself sag a bit, and watched as he came in for the kill.

Summoning all her strength, she waited till the last possible second before standing to her full height and dodging his attack. She whirled behind him, grabbing his shirt at the shoulders and slamming his head into the solid steel dryer. She reached up, grabbing the hair at the back of his head and slammed it into the dryer again. And again. And again.

Hotaru dropped her attacker to the floor. Blood pooled around his head from the large cuts opened from his impact with the dryer. She grabbed her bag from across the bathroom, activated her Boom Stick, and fired it at the attacker, immobilizing him. She rolled him onto his back, and used her Tablet to record his fingerprints and retinal identity.

_That was_ too _close_. She thought. _And why is someone after me in the first place?_ At least she would have the six hour flight from Kiev to New York to figure it out. She washed the cut on her face, applied a bandage from her bag and straightened her dress. She started to walk out of the washroom before she remembered the splinter in her foot. Reaching down with one hand, and steadying herself on the wall with the other, she dug out the splinter with her nails, grabbed her shoes, and walked out into the Terminal, towards gate eighty-six and her flight to New York, ignoring the looks of the bystanders as she headed down the walkway.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The College, Eastern UT, December 7, 2308 12:17:38 (T-Minus 05:17:42:22)

Slade was in total darkness. Apparently his neighbor, being absent from her dwelling, had decided to do the ecologically sound thing, and turn off all the lights. As his eyes adjusted to the extremely low level of light, he was thankful that all dwellings were laid out identically, allowing him to navigate to her sleeping quarters with ease. He was about to turn the knob on the bedroom door when a thought struck him, and he changed course to the living room.

Reaching the viewing screen, he removed the Tablet from its slot underneath the screen. _She's not on assignment_. Slade thought to himself as he powered it up. He touched a few buttons on his chronometer and was rewarded with a double chirp and the open communication line to Sarah in his ear.

"Sarah, can you isolate the IP address of this Tablet, and reload my old Tablet's information? I want secure access, but I need my information portable."

"I believe so, Slade, but it will take some time. I suggest you bring it with you."

"Acknowledged." He said, stowing the Tablet in his jacket. "Can you see anyone in my dwelling?"

"Scanning. One moment, please."

Slade walked back to the bedroom door, and twisted the handle, pushing it inward into the room. The blinds had been half-drawn, and the afternoon sunlight shone through, partially blinding Slade after the total darkness of the previous room. Looking around the bedroom, he noticed that everything was neat, and there was not one thing out of place. Alexandra had even labelled where things went. On an impulse, Slade opened the top drawer, and was not shocked to see socks and undergarments neatly ordered by color and pattern, each in their own individual cubicle within the drawer.

Shutting the drawer, he made his way to the window at the back of the room. As he did, he caught a glimpse of himself in her dressing mirror. His guise as Beta York was still holding up. Slade paused, looking at the youthful features, remembering when he was that young. He was envious of York's youth, though he knew it would fade quickly enough when he ascended to Alpha status.

Refocussing on the task at had, Slade walked to the window and slid it open. A blast of cold air assaulted him, causing his eyes to water. He quickly wiped them, and then poked his head out the window glancing quickly left and right to assess his footing and potential problems. Seeing no immediate threats, he pulled himself back into Alexandra's dwelling. A voice in his ear: Sarah.

"Your dwelling is clear, Slade. You may proceed. Tablet reconfiguration at thirty-three percent and working."

"Thank you, Sarah."

Slade crawled through the open window, placing his feet sideways on the narrow ledge. Though he was only on the second floor, he didn't want to explain to the administrative pool below why he was suddenly in the winter denuded rose bushes. He stood, flattening himself against the wall to avoid being buffeted by the icy December wind. Only one dwelling away, it took Slade nearly five minutes of shimmying and crawling before he was close enough to his dwelling to risk opening his bedroom window.

Holding tightly to the brick wall with his right hand, he reached forward with his left hand, and grabbed hold of the sliding window. He tugged it gently toward him, but it wouldn't budge. Slade tried again, pulling harder at the window with no result. It was frozen shut. He considered breaking the window, but feared the loud sound might bring sentries running. Slade squatted on the ledge, thinking. He could try and kick the window, but he would need to be on the other side, risking the wind again.

No matter how he sliced it, though, he _needed_ to get into his dwelling, and fast. There was no telling how close the Emissary was to The College. He also needed to get back through Alexandra's room and out past the sentries _before_ she got back. It would be very messy if she arrived and there was no one in her dwelling. Slade cautiously made his way past his window and clung fast to the brick abutment on the other side. He first tried pushing his window open, but the weather had it solid.

He reared back with his right foot, aiming at the edge of the frame. He launched his foot forward, connecting with the frame, and freeing it from its frozen footing. The window slid open, small chunks of ice in the sill aiding the window in its travels. Not expecting the large amount of movement, Slade lost his balance, and began to fall.

Slade reached for the window sill as gravity took hold, pulling his body down toward the ground. Both hands grabbed and clung tightly, his right foot still hooked in the sill. Reaching up with his left hand, Slade pushed the inner window open, and pulled himself through the window and onto his bed. He stayed there for a few long moments catching his breath before walking to his MKIII and ordering a glass of cold water.

He sipped at the water while he rummaged through his closet to find the small box he had hidden his key in. After removing a bowling ball, two pairs of skis, a tennis racket, a golf bag full of golf clubs and a baseball bat, Slade finally saw the nondescript brown box that had the _iCorps_ logo on the side. It was the box his first chronometer came in. He quickly removed the key, putting it in his pants pocket before hastily repacking the sporting world and the box back into the closet.

Slade quickly finished the water, setting the glass down on his dresser before remaking his bed. He hopped up on the headboard to gain access to the window, and headed out, closing the windows behind him. It was easier going on the way back as the wind was behind him, almost urging him on. Double checking his footing, Slade crossed the distance in half the time, and was back in Alexandra's dwelling in record time. He was just shutting the interior window when he heard the sound of the door lock disengaging.

Slade froze. The sentries knew he was here, but Alexandra surely didn't. Had the sentries tipped her off as she walked down the hallway? He heard the door open, and then close. Then there was a sound that Slade thought was groceries, but he couldn't be sure. _Didn't Alexandra use her MKIII?_ There were footsteps, and he heard the door to the washroom shut.

Wasting no time, Slade bolted from the bedroom, closing the door silently behind him. Lacking a clear exit, he paused in the hallway between the living room and the bedroom. If he walked out the front door, there were bound to be some questions that led to a place Slade didn't want to go. If he waited it out hidden in Alexandra's dwelling, he could be here for who knew how long. He contemplated going back out her window and dropping to the ground at a corner where there would be less windows.

Thinking the window the best course of action, he turned back toward the bedroom. He was a step away from the door when the bathroom door opened and Alexandra walked out. She froze, but only for a split second before her training kicked in and she rushed at Slade, perceiving him as an intruder, which, in fact he was. Slade, for his part, put his hands in the air in surrender.

"Please! Wait! I can explain!" Slade said quietly, backing toward the living room.

"Why should I even let you?" Alexandra advanced on him, driving him back toward the table that was in the center of the room. As Slade passed under the light, she paused again. "Wait. Aren't you from The College?"

Slade nodded. "0247893. My name is Sla-Mack." He quickly remembered he was supposed to be Mack.

"You don't sound too sure of yourself. Perhaps I should have my friends outside join us."

"Can you please just let me explain? I am Mack, but I am known as Slade."

"Well, Slade, you have thirty seconds to explain why you're in _my_ dwelling."

"It will take longer than thirty seconds. Can we sit?"

"No."

She jumped quickly toward him, pushing his shoulders toward the couch behind him as she stepped on the toes of his right boot, knocking him off balance. Slade hit the ground hard, and he felt immense pain as his right ankle stayed where it was when the rest of his body didn't. Alexandra wasted no time, following up with a blow to his midsection, knocking the wind out of him. As he struggled to rise and catch his breath at the same time, Alexandra kept her weight on him, using her knee to put pressure on Slade's already sore ankle.

"I'm being set up!" Slade wheezed. "Will you listen to me? Just listen!"

"Then start talking. Now." She moved slightly, her new position sending a fresh wave of pain shooting through his ankle. He winced, and tried to push her into a different position. She replied by putting both knees on his ankle. She wasn't taking any chances.

"Okay! Okay! I know you're relatively new to the Alpha designation. Have you Delivered many Letters?"

"Two." She replied.

"So you know what happens if you fail?"

"Punishment, Six weeks imprisonment."

"If that was only the case," Slade said wryly. "While I was Delivering my last Letter, I found out some information that Principal McDonald doesn't want the rest of the world to know."

"Why haven't you told Control?"

"Because I failed my Delivery, and killed four people getting the information."

"So I'm harboring a fugitive? Maybe I _should_ call the sentries..."

"No! I told you, I'm being set up. I was one second off."

"But there's the fifteen second after time."

Slade nodded. "I was plus sixteen seconds."

"You should be imprisoned then, and put on trial for the murders."

"But instead, Control's sent an Emissary after me. Does that make sense?"

"Not really." She let up on the pressure on Slade's ankle.

Slade pushed himself up to a sitting position. Alexandra moved to a spot on the couch.

"And if someone's out to get you, you need to get to _your_ dwelling, but you can't because they'd be looking for you. So how did you get into _my_ dwelling?"

Slade tapped his chronometer. "Lock pick algorithm"

"I see. You didn't touch anything, did you?"

"No. Except this." He pulled her Tablet from his coat. "I had to destroy mine so they couldn't track me. I'll replace yours once I get where I'm going."

She didn't have much of a choice, so she simply nodded.

"You're very organized." Slade said, changing the subject. "I was marveling at the dressing table in your bedroom. Labeled for easy placement. Even your sock drawer was organized."

"You _WHAT?_ " She jumped off the couch, landing on him. She began hitting his chest. "How dare you! That's my private space! I can't believe you would-"

The front door burst in, followed by a group of four sentries. Slade froze, one hand holding Alexandra's wrist, and the other covering his face from her progressively harder blows. The sentries hadn't seen them yet, but they were heading their way, Boom Sticks crackling with blue energy. She took one quick look over her shoulder, realizing that her raised voice was the reason they were here.

She bent forward, and quickly whispered into Slade's ear.

"If you want to live, follow my lead. But remember you owe me."

He nodded.

She lowered her head, and kissed him, her hands going to the sides of his face in a tender embrace. Slade wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She was twenty years his junior, but she clearly saw danger when it presented itself. She was going to make an amazing Alpha.

"Everything ok, Alexandra?" It was the sentry whom Slade had talked with. "Is Beta York bothering you?"

"Does it look like he's bothering me, Paul?" she said, kissing Slade again.

"I thought I heard yelling."

"A heated moment of passion. Surely you remember what that was like. You're not _that_ old yet, are you?"

The sentry opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he spun on his heel, and walked out of the dwelling, dragging the other three sentries behind him. The door shut with a click. Alexandra got off of Slade and took her place once again on the couch.

"I'm only going to tell you this once, Slade." Alexandra said, all previous emotion gone, pointing a finger in his direction to emphasize her point. "If you're slated for a Letter, then Control thinks you deserve it. I don't know the whole story, and I don't want to."

"But," Slade interrupted.

"But, nothing. If I _ever_ catch you in my dwelling again, I _will_ report you to Control and watch with glee as you are carted away to whatever fate they have for you. Now get out."

Slade rose, heading for the front door.

"Not _that_ way." She pointed to her bedroom. " _That_ way." I'm sure you can make it the few meters to the ground. Sentry shift change is in..." Alexandra glanced at her chronometer. "Sixty-five minutes. Obviously you must have left during shift change. This is the only break you'll get from me."

Slade nodded his thanks, and headed toward the bedroom and the window that would help guarantee his safety.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

JFK Airport, Eastern UT, December 8, 2308 15:14:13 (T-Minus 04:14:45:47)

Hotaru stepped through the gate at JFK's Terminal five. During the flight, she had redone what little makeup she wore, concealing the wound over her cheekbone with foundation and blush. Her hair was now worn down, long black tresses cascading around her shoulders. She wore her sunglasses, scanning the crowd for her Target. Knowing that he could look like _anyone_ made her job that much harder. It was only the retinal scan that had any accuracy now. She had already taken steps for that, and 0247893 was last seen at The College.

She bypassed customs, showing her ID badge to the guard as she walked by, barely stopping. While she technically gained five hours in time zones by flying from Kiev to JFK, the flight was ten hours long, so she was five hours behind the eight ball. Navigating the terminal with haste, she emerged into a cold, snowy day. Grey clouds that shrouded the tops of the skyscrapers gave her the impression of a low ceiling that someone had poked buildings through.

There was a hover waiting for her, and the attendant opened the door for her, helping her into the driver's seat before softly shutting the door. She sped away, using the hover's auto-pilot to take her to The College by the quickest route possible. Hotaru was not the least bit surprised when, fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to a building that was an exact replica of her College in Siam. She parked the hover, and was met halfway to the main access doors by the Superintendent, who fell in step beside her, despite his portly build.

"Welcome, Emissary." He started. "It is an-"

"Spare me the formalities, Superintendent. We both know why I'm here. Please take me to his dwelling."

As they passed through the brass trimmed glass double doors, Hotaru knew people would be looking. She glanced at the administrative wing, nodding and smiling to anyone who dared to look in her direction. The minute long wait for the elevator seemed to stretch forever for the Superintendent, who was used to casual conversation. When the elevator doors popped open on the second floor, he nearly ran to Radius II, handing her off to the Sentry on duty. His duties fulfilled, the Superintendent took off back down the hall toward the elevator.

"What's with him?" The sentry asked Hotaru, indicating the fleeing Superintendent with a thumb.

"I don't know," Hotaru lied. "Perhaps he ate some bad fish?" The sentry was going to be easy to get along with, she thought.

"How can I be of assistance, Emissary?" He said formally, acknowledging her rank.

"I am searching for 0247893. Retinal scans indicate that he was in this hallway yesterday at nineteen hundred hours. Can you tell me who was on duty?

The man's eyebrows were knit in confusion. "I was," he replied. "I know Slade personally. He was _not_ here during my duty shift yesterday. That much I guarantee you."

"Was there anyone in this hallway that would not have normally been granted access - a friend of an Emissary, a date, someone like that?"

"The only person who came yesterday that didn't already reside in these dwellings was Beta Mack York. He's in my ethics class. He was here to see Alexandra, dwelling fifteen. They had a dinner date last night."

"Where is Beta York now?"

The sentry lifted his Tablet, and keyed in York's ID. There was a series of chirps, and a blip appeared. He tilted the Tablet in Hotaru's direction so she could see.

"He's in class. Judging by the map, I'd say history. I can escort you if you wish."

"That won't be necessary. I'd like to speak with this Alexandra, and then I want access to 0247893's dwelling."

"I can facilitate the latter, but Alexandra left on a Delivery this morning. She mentioned she'd be back on Friday." He turned, walking down the hallway with Hotaru falling in step beside him. Each of the stone-faced sentries paled slightly as she passed, then relaxed when they realized that she wasn't here for them. When they arrived at door seventeen, the sentry punched an eight digit code into the lock, and then pushed the door open.

He entered first, securing the room, and making sure that there were no surprises for the Emissary. Perceiving no threats, he backed out of the dwelling, and stood against the wall, motioning to Hotaru that the room was hers. She quickly made her way into the dwelling, searching each room systematically for a clue of his presence. The living room, kitchen and bathroom were spotless, but Hotaru noticed the bedroom window wasn't quite in its track. There was also a glass with a few beads of water still clinging to the rim on the dresser.

"Sentry, did you, or anyone on your team open this window?"

The sentry came into the bedroom, shaking his head as he looked at the window. "No, ma'am. Like I said, no one has been in here in forty-eight hours."

"I'm afraid you're wrong. Someone _has_ been here. And I'm guessing in the last twelve hours."

She reached for her Tablet, and put it in fingerprint recognition mode. She quickly scanned the room, noting that her Target's prints came back positive on the window and the glass. While not conclusive, there was an indication he had been here recently. The problem being that it was _his_ dwelling. Of course he would be here.

"Do you have cameras in the hallways?" she asked the sentry. He shook his head.

"No. Like I said before, my team was in the hallway all night last night. If Slade had been here, we would have known."

"Did you verify retinal identity on all newcomers?"

He shook his head again. "The only visitor last night was Beta York, and I know him personally. There was no reason to verify his identity."

"Then I'm guessing you've forgotten about 0247893's sub dermal tattoo. The same sub dermal tattoo that allows him to look like anyone he can see."

The sentry was speechless. He _had_ forgotten. Hotaru whirled, taking long strides toward the living room, and then out into the hallway. The sentry followed, but stopped at the doorway, ensuring the dwelling was secured.

"I trust you'll be verifying retinal identity from now on?" she said as she rounded the corner, heading back to the elevator.

****

Slade put the key into the lock and turned. It was a little stiff, so he worked the key into the lock gently, not wanting to break the key. After a few more turns, the lock gave, and he put the lock and key in his pocket for later. He lifted the heavy iron door of the storm cellar he used as his secure cache. Making sure there was no one around, he descended the iron staircase, pulling the door closed behind him. As soon as the door was shut, fluorescent lights illuminated the room.

Nearly ten meters square, there were no windows, and separate vents could filter particulates out of the air in the event of another nuclear strike. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Slade turned to his right, moving a duffle bag from the floor to the table. Shelves in front of him contained power cells for his Boom Stick as well as ammunition for some less conventional weapons.

Firearms had been outlawed shortly after Woodrow Wilson came to power due to the advances in technology pertaining to _subduing_ Target or enemy rather than _killing_ them. That didn't stop the black market from flourishing by selling all kinds of firearms to people with enough Royals to buy. Slade was a guy that like to be _very_ prepared, and had bought a few to keep in his cache, along with ammunition to go with them.

Skipping the weapons for the moment, Slade crossed to the desk he had in the far corner. Opening the drawer, he pulled out all of his fake passports and ID tags. While the government purported to be " _One World, Indivisible_ ", the practices that had held for more than three hundred years were hard to break, and passports were still required, even with his status as an Alpha - or ex-Alpha, as it were. He stuffed all but the Alberta Territory passport into the duffle, along with three bundles of Royals - about three hundred thousand, before going back to the shelves containing the weapons. He grabbed four power cells, stuffing them into the duffle. Next to the remaining power cells, Slade put large boxes of .308, .32, and 12 gauge rounds before moving to grabbing a sniper rifle, a pair of magnum handguns, and a shotgun before zipping it shut.

Setting the bag aside, Slade moved to his desk, setting the Tablet to display the information he had picked up in Crimea. He was still unsure how to proceed with the knowledge of a human smuggling ring. Control was out. He was pretty sure they were in on it. On top of that, he had a fair bit of guilt over the four guards he had taken out at McDonald's place. While they did attack, he certainly did not need to kill them - he could have incapacitated them and left them to heal.

It was the rage his chip brought on when he got into a physical altercation. It was meant to push him past the limits of his normal abilities in a crisis or Delivery situation. The chip also deadened all emotions that didn't directly have an impact on his job as an Emissary. It was frustrating, to say the least, and yet helpful at the same time.

Transferring the info to the screen in front of him, Slade scanned the information he had captured on McDonald. He set the Tablet to work transcribing the audio file he had recorded from the roof into a readable text file. While that was working, he headed to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water and a tin of oranges from his stash. He would stay here for a couple days, and then head out to see if the heat had lessened on his head.

Sitting on the small couch that doubled as his bed, the realization of the last two days hit Slade like a brick. Fatigue washed over him in waves, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. _Just a few minutes_ , he told himself, placing the orange and the water on the table in the corner before succumbing to sleep.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Antarctica December 8, 2308

Sunlight reflected off of the corrugated iron roofs of Casey Station. This time of the year, the sun never set, and it was one long day until March, when the days would get progressively shorter until there was sunset, and it would be night till midway through September. Penguins congregated on ice floes that moved slowly in the Antarctic waters. A few birds flew overhead, searching for fish to make their meal.

Casey Station, from the outside, looked abandoned. The doors had been frozen shut months ago, and the snow blown by the high speed Antarctic winds had drifted halfway up the doors. The two-story building, nicknamed "The Red Shed" housed hundreds of computers that were used to capture data relating to climate shift, ocean water levels, and zoological inventories of fish, animal, and plant life on the forbidding island. Personnel tunnels connected the three main buildings, and smaller pathways led from doorways to clusters of personnel huts.

One hundred and twenty-five meters from The Red Shed was the power plant used to power the buildings of Casey Station. Originally a coal and oil burning station, it had been since converted to a solar driven station, with banks of batteries that stored immense amounts of energy for the long winter night. Cameras mounted to the outside of the plant monitored movement as it came close to Casey Station, and acted as an early warning system for larger predators like bears and wolves.

The last building was a corrugated half-dome with huge barn doors. This building, nearly one hundred meters across, housed the vehicles used to travel around, and off, the Station. A flat packed path led to the Wilkins Ice Runway, nearly sixty-five kilometers away. While the planes, including an Airbus A319 could be stored nearer to the runway, there was nowhere between here and there that provided the natural geographic shelter that Vincennes Bay did. Assorted vehicles, including tracked people movers and snowmobiles stood idle in the heated dome. Barrels of fuel and oils lined the outer walls, and crates of medical supplies and food were stacked in groups beneath the sheltering wings of the twin A319's.

On the top floor of The Red Shed was a room with a black door with no window. A sign warned all that the room was for _Restricted Access Only._ Fingerprint and retinal scanners were positioned to the right of the door, allowing access to those who needed it. Above the doorway, a red plastic sign engraved with white letters read: Integrated Registration Information System. All of the computers at Casey Station fed their collected data into this room to be analyzed and recorded. New species of oceanic life had been revealed to the world once collected and recorded by Red Shed computers.

Though this was the busiest time of the year for Casey Station, there was not a person in sight. One hundred and ten years ago, personnel were redirected to appropriate Zones based on their degree of expertise and level of education. Periodic post-Great Fire trips to Casey Station upgraded the computer in the room with the black door as necessary to handle security, power plant production and energy storage, along with its usual cataloging, recording and analysis duties. The last manned trip to Casey Station was in 2286, when the computer was modified yet again to handle all census, migration and internet data. What had once started as a collection device had been modified to be the largest single storage facility in the world, cataloguing data of every kind imaginable.

Servers and hard drives stretched floor to ceiling on three of the room's four walls. Ethernet and power wires snaked through metal racking connecting the components to each other and to the energy required to perform their task. Lights on servers blinked amber and green as the multitude of data was processed and filed for later recall. The whir of cooling fans, both on the machines themselves and in the roof was ever-present, keeping the room at Casey Station a chilly three degrees Celsius.

A large bank of screens, fifteen by fifteen, showed changing images from cameras around the world. Traffic images from busy city streets flicked into still shots of underwater ocean life. Other screens showed motion captured images from ABM's, while still other screens displayed ever changing shots of flight routes, secure transportation depots, and government building access points. Before each change, a small green checkmark appeared in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, indicating the image had been catalogued.

Two of the over two hundred screens held images that changed between two images only. One screen revealed a black state-issued hover parked beside a fading farmhouse. This image was alternated with an interior shot of the same hover. The cover of an album depicting four men walking across a roadway could be seen on the hover's dash. The other displayed the interior of a hover, where a woman dressed in a black dress navigated the twists and turns of the urban roadways she travelled. Its alternating image was a map showing the GPS location of her vehicle. Both screens had a flashing red "X" in the corner.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Slade's Bunker, Palmyra, Eastern UT, December 9, 2308, 10:47:34 (T-Minus 03:19:12:26)

Slade woke with a start. It was pitch black where he was, except for the soft glow of his Tablet. It took him a moment to remember he was in the bunker. He groggily rose to his feet, and shuffled over to the table where his Tablet was. His movement activated the sensors that turned on the lights, and he squeezed his eyes tight against the harsh light. He stuck his hand out, and found the chair by the desk. Carefully lowering himself into it, he slowly began to open his eyes, alternating left then right in an effort to acclimatize his eyes to the new light.

After a few minutes, Slade was fully awake, and he reached forward, grabbing his Tablet. His chronometer indicated that he had slept nearly thirteen hours, and it was mid-morning of the next day. _So far, so good_. He thought. The transcription program had finished, and the file had been saved to the Tablet's home screen. He grabbed the oranges and water from the day before, and ate. As he finished the last slice of orange, his stomach let out a loud rumble as if to say, " _That was a good appetizer, what's the main course?_ " Lacking an MKIII here in the bunker, Slade would have to go topside and stock up on some non-perishable goods.

Pushing his Tablet aside for the moment, he pulled the wireless keyboard toward him, and booted up his computer. One of the things that made this bunker ideal was that it was outfitted with copper wire transmission lines. In the ancient history of the nineteen fifties, citizens of the State of New York built bunkers like this one for protection from the A-bomb. Copper wire provided _power_ to the bunker, but technology proved that internet signals could be transmitted through copper phone wires also. It was a _lot_ slower than the traditional fiber optic cables in circulation these days, but copper wires did not run on the same network, allowing Slade to get information without having to log in through the _iCorps_ firewalls, flying under the radar as it were.

A beep from the terminal indicated its readiness. Slade logged in, and accessed the internet. He scanned the newswires quickly, and was pleased to find that there was no mention of him or of his exploits in Crimea. Next, Slade accessed his accounts at the bank. He was not shocked at all to see his accounts frozen. That was the sole reason he kept the bulk of his funds here in the bunker.

Satisfied, he quickly accessed the roster of Radius II Alphas, pulling their pictures up onto the screen, and transferring them to his Tablet for later review. On impulse, he selected an Alpha by the name of Dwight Jones, pulling his picture to the forefront of the others, and making it full screen.

Minutes later, he had finished, and he stood up, walking to the washroom to examine his handiwork. It was a perfect match, as always. He paused by the racks of supplies, grabbed some smaller bills from the stacks of Royals sorted by denomination, and headed out to buy some groceries.

The sunlight was very bright in the midday sky, and Slade cursed himself for not remembering sunglasses on his way out of the bunker. He shielded his eyes as he unlocked Sarah, activating her for use. Deciding the sun was too bright, he ducked back into the bunker, grabbing his sunglasses. Belting himself into the driver's seat, he drove to the closest grocery store, nearly five kilometers away.

Palmyra, formed over five hundred years ago, had grown from a small hamlet to a large city surrounded by lush farmland that provided all manner of fresh vegetables to the territory. This was an integral fact in Slade's choice of bunker, as it allowed him the option of having fresh vegetables should the stores run out. Having a city close by was equally a factor as it allowed him to get lost in the crowds when the heat and pressure became too intense.

Sarah's voice cut in over _Get Back_ :

_"Slade, I have a new message from Control. They are wondering why you haven't turned yourself in._

"Tell them I'm investigating something. I'll head back to The College when I'm done."

_"Acknowledged._ "

He arrived at the grocer's, a local Safeway store. Walking in, he saw many people at the tills, paying for their goods. He walked up to an empty terminal, and punched in his order. The total came up, and Slade inserted bills, paying for the groceries, and receiving coin in return as change. A printer spit out his receipt, and he walked back to Sarah thinking: _I haven't actually paid for groceries in over twenty years_. Driving the hover to the loading area, he found his order was already boxed and ready to be loaded. He backed up to his assigned dock, showed his receipt, and waited for Sarah to be loaded before he tipped the young lady a ten. She smiled her thanks, and he drove off. He had one more stop to make before he headed back to the bunker.

# CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Palmyra, Eastern UT December 9, 2308 13:51:02 (T-Minus 03:16:08:58)

Hotaru frowned. Her Target had just disappeared. One minute he was at a house in Palmyra, and the next he simply ceased to exist. Had he been terminated? She thought about calling Control, but memories of the washroom incident in Kiev gave her pause. Was someone after _her_? More importantly, if someone _was_ after her, _why_ was someone after her?

She focused her attention on the Tablet once again. She set the scanning application to scan on all frequencies for the signal that 0247893's chronometer was giving off. It had been hard enough to find him after he had left Kiev. Before the attack, Control had helped her track down his hover's ID signal, and she started tracking it as soon as she landed at JFK. Tracking that signal had led to a consistent second signal that Hotaru had decided must belong to her Target. _Gotta give him credit for changing his chronotag_.

Wait! There it was again! It was moving. And so was the Hover. He was on the move. She ran to her hover, setting it on Auto, with the other hover as the destination. As she set off, Hotaru checked her Tablet, watching the progress of the dot into the city proper.

"Where are you going, 0247893?" She wondered aloud.

Another check of her Tablet indicated that she had three days and change left to complete her Delivery. She put the hover on Auto, and then transferred the data to the windshield. A small display in the top right of the screen estimated her arrival to his hover. It changed as he turned, and her hover changed course to intercept.

"Fifteen Minutes, and then you're mine." She said, looking at the display.

She sat back, and prepared her Tablet for Delivery. Hotaru then checked her Boom Stick, and was satisfied to see that it was fully charged. Her hover executed a U-turn as the tracking program following her Target once again altered her course to match.

As her hover twisted and turned through the streets of Palmyra, she could do nothing but wait. Suddenly, there was a jarring crash, and her hover lurched forward.

_"Rear impact,"_ Her hover's on-board computer said. _"You are experiencing a hover accident. Please take appropriate safety measures."_

Hotaru looked in the hover's rear view mirror. There was a truck behind her. She did a double-take. A _wheeled_ truck? The sound of the truck's engine was loud compared to the near-silent electric engine of her hover. It roared as it came at her again. There was another crash, and the hover lurched forward anew.

She rapidly punched the Auto button on the dash, disengaging the function, taking the hover under her control. She swerved to the left, and noticed the truck follow her. A glance to the display in the corner of the window told her that her Target had finished his business, and was heading back to wherever it was that he came from.

"Computer. Activate full screen heads-up display. Calculate quickest route to Target."

"Working."

Another jolt from behind. Whoever was behind her meant business. She jammed her foot on the accelerator, and the hover started to break away from the truck. She cranked the wheel to the right, sliding around the corner, nearly crashing into the building as the propulsion jets worked frantically to keep her on the magnetic track. There was a squeal of rubber on asphalt as the driver yanked the truck around to follow her.

Up ahead, she saw a family partway across the street at a crosswalk. She frantically honked her horn, and punched the switch that turned her siren on. The wail of the siren blended with the roar of the truck's engine and the honk of her horn. The family scurried across the street and stared with amazement as Hotaru and the truck screamed by, doing almost three times the posted speed limit.

"Route calculated. Updating display."

The view in front of her changed, and Hotaru suddenly jerked the wheel to the left as the map came to life. Her Target was only four blocks away. With a loud roar the truck made the turn, and pulled alongside her, and rammed into her, sending the right side of her hover into the building, showering sparks and brick fragments behind her. Trying to compensate, she steered left, but the sheer size and weight of the truck was no match for her hover. She two-footed the brake pedal, and watched as the truck shot ahead of her.

As the truck passed her, she noticed with horror that it was the same man from the Kiev washroom. Someone was after her - that was for certain now. Glancing quickly at the map, she noticed that the alley up ahead connected with the road she needed to catch her Target. One hand on the wheel and the other on the handbrake, she cranked the wheel to the left, and noticed with satisfaction that the truck's brake lights came on, and the tires squealed as he tried to bring the huge truck to a stop.

Gravel shot out from under the hoverjets as she navigated the alley's opening. She snapped her attention back to the alley, and winced as her hover clipped a red Hoyota CrossHover. Hotaru grabbed the wheel with both hands now, and pushed the accelerator to the floor, making the most of her lead on the truck. As she came to the mouth of the alley, she steered right, out onto Oleander Avenue and gunned it again.

_Definitely going to need to charge this tonight_ , she thought. _Assuming I'm not dead._

Another glance at the map, and she saw that there was only two blocks separating her and her Target. She weaved around a slower moving hover, and the road became only two lanes wide. Up ahead, she could see a bridge, and beyond that a black state-issued hover that turned left on a road that led to the outskirts of town.

Hotaru piloted her hover as fast as she could across the bridge, and made the left. She slowed her hover to match her Target's speed. He drove across the intersection of Harrison and Oleander and she followed. She was halfway through the intersection when a movement caught her eye off to the right. She turned her head to see the grille of the truck as it impacted with her hover. The two vehicles skidded across the intersection and into the lawn of the house on the corner, crushing the lower half of a lawn mower in the process.

She quickly opened her door, and jumped out toward the back of her hover, rolling to her feet. Taking a defensive stance, she quickly glanced for the driver. Finding him, she quickly ran in his direction, hands up and on the attack. She was forced to quickly duck out of the way as the sizzling energy of the man's Boom Stick was unleashed in her direction. The energy bolt slammed into an oak tree on the lawn, reducing it to so many splinters.

Closing the distance, she jumped in the air, delivering a kick to the man's chest, knocking him backwards, and off-balance. Landing nimbly, she went for his legs, but was shocked when he delivered a blow under her guard connecting with her chin. She reeled from the hit, stars clouding her vision. She felt hands on her shoulders, and she was thrown down roughly to the grass.

She put her hands up in front of her, ready to ward off blows. Her vision was clearing, and she saw him coming in from the right. He raised his leg to kick her in the ribs, but at the last minute, she grabbed his foot, spinning it away from her, causing him to lose his momentum. She gained her feet and rushed him. Grabbing the handle of the lawn mower, she wrenched it free of its moorings, wielding it like a club. Hotaru took large swings at his legs and knees, and felt immense satisfaction when he yelped in pain as it connected with bone.

Despite his pain, he stayed on his feet, and when she swung for his head with the deadly metal frame, he grabbed the frame, and twisted it from her grasp. He tossed it to the ground beside him, preferring instead to take her on in hand-to-hand combat. Hotaru assumed the first position in her offensive Tai Chi stance, and started the form, wasting no time. He countered her movements with blocks of his own, and used his feet to keep her off-balance as he sent quick jab kicks in her direction.

Hotaru noticed that his back was to the wreck, and she launched an offensive in that direction, determined to pin him in and finish this attack. When his back leg touched the hover, he realized that he was trapped, and his eyes went feral. She had to end this. She came at him, fists flying. He grabbed each of her fists in a meaty hand, and kicked out, burying his foot in her midsection. As her body went horizontal, he let go of her hands, and she crashed to the ground in the fetal position, struggling for breath.

With her mostly incapacitated, he crossed the three steps to the handle that Hotaru used as a club. Grabbing it, he ran back to her, and kicked her in the stomach again, rolling her onto her back. He grabbed the narrow end of the handle, and pressed the wide end against her throat. She quickly put her hands to the cross piece, pushing against his weight that drove the handle against her windpipe. She frantically kicked out, but he was nowhere in reach, standing behind her as he was.

The man reached behind him, drawing out a Tablet.

"Hotaru Kogame, you have been-"

There was a loud crack, and the man was thrown to the side, releasing his grip on the handle. He staggered backward and there was another crack. This time, a circle of red began to appear in the center of his chest. Hotaru could see where his shirt had been torn by whatever had hit him. Craning her neck to see behind her, she noticed a man standing on his stoop with a hunting rifle in his hands. Tendrils of smoke still hung around the end of the barrel.

"Are you all right, miss?" The man asked, concern on his face.

Unable to speak, she simply nodded. Checking on the man again, Hotaru saw that he was on the ground, clutching at his chest. His breath came in ragged gasps and he looked at her with horror when she approached.

"Who sent you?" She asked, her own breath not yet returned.

In answer, he spat in her face, saliva and blood spraying into her eyes. He looked away. She reached over with a quick hand, grabbing his chin, bringing it back toward her.

"Who sent you?" She asked, more forcefully this time.

He tried to shake his head, but her grip was firm.

"Tell me! WHO SENT YOU?"

The light in his eyes was fading. He was moments away from death. She tried once more.

"Who wants me dead?"

With the knowing look of someone who is embracing death, he uttered only one word:

"Iris."

# CHAPTER THIRTY

Slade's Bunker, Palmyra, Eastern UT December 9, 2308 14:06:57 (T-Minus 03:15:53:03)

Slade had not even put his groceries away when he heard the chirp from his Tablet indicating an email. One hand still on the fridge door handle, he froze in place, listening intently for sounds that should not be in his bunker. The space of ten breaths passed before he let go, satisfied that there was no one inside with him.

He walked over to the Tablet, but paused, deciding that caution was the better part of valor, or however that ancient quote went. He touched his chronometer.

"Sarah, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Slade. How can I be of assistance?"

"I just received an email. Can you trace the sender? I need to know if it's from Control."

"Working. One moment, please."

Slade woke his Tablet from sleep, and stared at it, the red flashing light blinking at him every three seconds. He began to pace and was almost at the far end of the bunker when Sarah came back to him.

"Slade, I have no idea who sent the email. It is protected with encryption that I can't decode."

"Okay. Thank you, Sarah."

It was a game of chance. There was a possibility that Control had sent The Letter directly to his Tablet, but all he had to do is not touch the Tablet once the email was open and he would be fine. Deciding to risk it, he opened the email program and waited as it downloaded the message to his Tablet. There was only one recent email, and it was from an unknown source. The subject line caught his attention immediately:

Open for your protection.

He touched the line, and the email opened:

From: <unknown sender> (unknown@unknown.com)

To: 0247893 (0247893@icorps.corp)

Subject: Open for your protection

Emissary 0247893,

It seems that you have run into a bit of a problem after your last Delivery. Know that I am on your side, and I want to help. For your protection, you must track down the Emissary that is after you, and demand answers from her. I know about the missing time from your chronometer, but I cannot divulge more here. Find 0256773 and seek your answers

OM

_What the?_ Slade read the email again, and then a third time. While he knew who was after him with reference to his Letter, to have it confirmed by an outside source was unnerving. And then there was the mention of the missing time from his Delivery. Someone else knew about it. Which makes it even weirder considering Control couldn't find it. At least he wasn't crazy.

His next step was clearly evident: Track down the Emissary who wanted to Deliver to him, and persuade her to talk with him instead of killing him. That didn't sound too hard. He had two choices: wait for her to find him, which gave her the advantage, or go after her and take the advantage away from her. There was no competition between those two choices whatsoever.

He sat at his desk and brought up his terminal. Accessing the internet, he accessed the _iCorps_ database, but paused at the login screen.

"Sarah, I need all of the information on Alexandra sent to my terminal."

"Alexandra who?"

"She inhabits 020215, the room beside me. Can you get her _iCorps_ login information?"

"Working."

While he waited, he surfed over to the local news site. The front page of the Times had the headline: **HORRIFIC CRASH CLAIMS LIFE**. There was a full color picture of a state-issued hover that had been turned on its side from the impact with- Slade paused, staring at the picture. Was that a wheeled vehicle? That was as low-tech as it came. Low tech meant untraceable. He scanned the article trying to learn what had happened.

HORRIFIC CRASH CLAIMS LIFE

Lydia Steed, Times Reporter

The idyllic Palmyra community of Glendale was rocked by the sounds of screeching rubber and bending metal this morning as the first hover accident in over fifty years claimed the life of an unidentified male.

Witnesses say the state-issued hover was travelling westbound on Oleander when a wheeled truck failed to stop at the intersection at Harrison, impacting with the Hover's passenger side. The force of the impact drove the two vehicles onto the lawn of Mr. C. N. Sharpe, who stated the crash "sounded like a plane exploding".

There were signs of a struggle, but no one is able to determine whether the man, who appears to be in his forties died from the impact, or from external sources. The investigation continues today. The intersection will be blocked off for the remainder of the week, and both vehicles have been transported to _iCorps_ maintenance facility for further study.

That settled it. First step, get that truck. Second step, track down 0256773. Slade minimized the window, switching back to the _iCorps_ login screen.

"Sarah, I _need_ that information. How much longer?"

_"Patience is a virtue,"_ she chided mockingly.

"Not right now it isn't."

There was a triple chirp, and Alexandra's information appeared on the screen in front of Slade. He hastily copied it down in the notes application on his Tablet, and pressed Enter on the keyboard. Working quickly, he accessed the database, and found the identification plate for the hover. Running it through the system, he traced it back to The College - a unit designated for foreign Emissaries here on official business. _That has to be her_ , Slade thought. _And she's still alive. The news said male, not female._

The document also contained information on the truck, a 2267 Hoyota Ridgoma. It appeared that there was some damage to the front of the truck from the impact, but it had fared better than the ultra-light hover. It would be useful. Switching gears, he accessed the staff database for the maintenance facility, pulling up pictures of the male staff and sending them to his Tablet. He would head over, and, feigning retrieval of a confiscated vehicle, determine who was on duty.

He grabbed the duffle bag from underneath the shelves. He might need this. Slinging it over his shoulder, he grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and headed up the stairs and out to Sarah.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Palmyra Municipal Building, Eastern UT, December 9, 2308 16:12:13 (T-Minus 03:13:47:47)

The maintenance facility was part of a larger complex of buildings in downtown Palmyra which took up the entire area bordered by E Main Street and Canal Street to the North and South, and William and Church streets to the East and West. The entire municipal staff resided in this complex which housed St. Anne's, Nima's Pizzeria and District One of the Palmyra police force.

Slade turned north onto William Street and hung another quick left into the parking lot reserved for Nima's customers. Exiting the hover, he walked to the North end of the building where the maintenance facility was. A chain link fence kept people out of the secured area, and a security hut was erected to protect the guards, but Slade calmly walked up to the guard on duty.

"Can I help you?" The guard, whose name tag identified his as _L. Spooner_ , asked.

Slade paused, accessing his internal drive. This guard was listed.

"Yes. I'm afraid I parked where I wasn't supposed to, and I received an email stating my hover had been brought here. I'd like to retrieve it, if I could."

He smiled at Slade. "Happens all the time. I'll need ID, and we can make that happen for you."

Slade reached into his pocket, producing his _iCorps_ ID. He brought it close to the aperture at the bottom of the window, causing the guard to reach beyond the window to get his ID. With lightning reflexes, Slade grabbed the guard's hand, pulling it towards him, causing the guard's head to hit the glass. He instinctively pulled his arm back, but cried out when the glass began to tear at the skin wedged between it and the wooden desk top.

Slade ran to the hut's door, turning the handle and pulling it open. As he rushed into the hut, the guard reached for his Boom Stick, but was struggling as it was on his non-dominant side. Slade reached forward, a flat palm crashing down on the man's neck where it met the shoulder. As the he went limp, Slade held him up, drawing the wedged arm out from the aperture.

Withdrawing his Tablet, Slade place the _Closed_ sign on the window near the aperture and began to change his looks. Once the transformation was complete, Slade quickly swapped clothes with the man, and then dragged him back to the coat area, set him on the floor, and hid him beneath the coats waiting for use in inclement weather.

The last thing he did before heading into the garage was grab the guard's ID badge and attach it to his waistband. He had already checked to make sure that L. Spooner had sufficient clearance to gain access to the truck. It was time to move. He called the main floor layout to his memory. As he entered through the main door, he turned left, walking down a hallway dominated by sleek glass and steel offices. There were some people working, but they mostly ignored him, content to do their own work.

He passed a large meeting room on his right, and the light of the outdoor courtyard that was adjacent momentarily blinded him as the sun shone through the high windows. He was just passing the door when a group of guards rounded the corner, heading his way. He ducked into the courtyard, hiding behind a pine tree till the guard's voices could no longer be heard in the hallway.

On the move again, Slade entered the garage through a small door that barely allowed his body through. Once inside, he walked straight to the desk, asking the guard for access to the truck and hover involved in yesterday's accident.

"What do you need access to those for?" the guard asked. His tag read _S. Wilkins._

"Well, Wilkins. Here's the deal. The chief wants me to look them over to see if the _iCorps_ guys have missed anything. There hasn't been an accident like this in over fifty years, and he wants a fresh pair of eyes on it."

Wilkins looked skeptical, and looked Slade up and down, trying to see some sign to let him know what to do.

"I don't know, Spooner. That sounds like a weird request."

"Listen," Slade said, gesturing toward the center of the complex. "You don't want us both to get in serious trouble, do you? If I'm not back in an hour, the chief is going to boil my brains and eat them for lunch! Tell you what. You come with me. That way you can make sure I don't do anything I'm not allowed to."

That seemed to click.

"O-okay. Let me close down my station, and we'll go."

Ten minutes later, Slade and Wilkins were standing in front of the truck. Slade circled it slowly, giving it a critical once over. The grille had been smashed from the impact with the hover, but the radiator was still intact, and there were no fluid leaks that Slade could see. When Slade reached the back of the truck, he found the box empty save for a length of chain and a padlock the previous owner had left there.

"Wilkins," Slade called to the front of the truck. "Can you come back here? I can't tell if these tail lights are working or not."

Wilkins and Slade traded positions. Slade hopped into the cab, starting the engine, and putting his foot on the brake pedal. Wilkins' face glowed a bright red from the light, and Slade could see him nodding. Getting out of the truck, he walked toward the back, and met Wilkins who was on his way forward. Seizing an opportunity, Slade pointed over Wilkins shoulder.

"What the...?" Slade said.

Wilkins turned one hundred and eighty degree to see what Slade had been pointing at. In a flurry of movement, Slade closed the distance, grabbed Wilkins by the neck, and slammed his head into the truck just hard enough to knock him out. Wilkins' body went limp, and there was a head-shaped dent in the rear quarter panel. Slade grabbed the chain and padlock from the box, and then grabbed Wilkins with his free hand. He dragged both to a support pillar and chained Wilkins up.

Walking back to the truck, Slade got in, started the engine, and headed out of the garage into the bright sun. He drove over to Sarah, put the truck in park and turned off the ignition. Unlocking the hover, he sat in the driver's seat and called up the main computer interface.

"How can I help you, Slade?"

"Sarah, I'm going away for a bit. I'm going to put you in hibernation mode so that your power cells don't drain while I'm gone. When I get back, I'll wake you up."

"Where are you going? I didn't think you had an assignment."

"I don't. Goodbye, Sarah."

Slade quickly keyed the command that activated the memory wipe and format function.

"Goodbye? But Slade, I-"

The dash lights flickered, and a small progress bar on the windshield indicated the format progress. When it reached one hundred percent, the interface came up, and a message scrolled across the screen:

Say "Hello" to begin.

Slade stood, and walked away from the hover, shutting the door behind him.

"Goodbye, Sarah.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The College, Eastern UT, December 10, 2308 09:11:09 (T-Minus 02:20:48:51)

Hotaru paced the living room of the Dwelling she had been assigned. After the incident with the Emissary after her, she had headed straight for The College. The Superintendent had been more than happy to grant her access to one of the extra rooms in Radius II, as well as a new hover - especially after she had chicken winged him in his office.

The viewing screen showed a split view - the left half showing the hover 0247893 was using parked by the Palmyra Municipal Complex, and the other half of the screen showed possible locations 0247893 could be hiding, places that he had remained at for more than thirty minutes at a time in the past two days. A glance at her chronometer indicated less than two days remaining. She would have to track him down today.

There were five locations the computer had extrapolated based on previous movement of the chronotag 0247893 was using. Looking at their location on the map, Hotaru decided that she would hit the furthest first, and then work her way back to The College. If all five locations turned up nothing, she still had a day to consult with Control and gather new intel.

She picked up her Tablet, transferred the data from the viewing screen to the memory, and activated the tracking system. There was a flashing blue dot that was stationary at the grocery store she had tracked him to yesterday. _There goes that plan_ , she thought to herself. There was no way he was going to need groceries two days in a row, was there? _Municipal building it is_. Muttering to herself, she donned her coat, made sure she had extra charges for her Boom Stick, and headed to the garage.

As she pulled out of the underground parking garage, she input the coordinates for the grocery store, and initiated Auto. Dividing her windshield workspace in half, she placed her five target locations on the left side, and called up an open internet window on the right. Something had been bothering her for the past day. She typed in her search terms: _Wheeled vehicle, driver, accident_. In less than a second, Hotaru had over thirteen thousand results, but only the first mattered. It was a link to the Times' account of yesterday's incident.

She quickly scanned the story, and felt a rush of joy when she found out where they had taken the truck. Her Target must have gone to collect the truck. _For what purpose?_ Hotaru wondered. As her hover turned onto Oleander, heading into downtown Palmyra, she wondered if there was a reason that the hover was left in plain sight. Surely he would be running and hiding instead of being available for her to catch, wouldn't he?

Her train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt by a man standing in the middle of Oleander with a rifle. The hover came to a stop, and she was shocked to realize that the man holding the rifle was her Target. He raised it to his shoulder, taking aim with the sight. She lowered the driver's side window.

"Emissary," He called to her. "Please step out of the hover with your hands above your head."

"I can't do that, 0247893." Hotaru called back. "I have no guarantee you won't shoot me."

"I don't want to shoot you, Hotaru Kogame. I want information. Information that I believe you have."

The use of her name shocked her. He had obviously done his homework. She absently checked her Boom Stick, calculating in her head the chances of drawing it and firing before he pulled the trigger on the rifle. The numbers didn't look good. She needed to stall him.

"Okay. I can give you information. But I'll do it from here."

Turning her head to look in the rearview mirror, she activated her chronometer.

"Voice Activate, Kogame, Hotaru, 0256773 Alpha. Record and monitor. Prepare sonic defense."

"Confirmed." Came the reply from her wrist.

"Not good enough," Slade called and fired a shot at the hover's left headlight. There was a loud crack and the sound of plastic fragments hitting the pavement beneath the hover. She flinched in horror.

"What are you doing?" Hotaru screamed at him. "I'll come! Stop!"

Slade pulled back on the bolt handle, discharging the spent casing, loading another round into the chamber. He raised the rifle again. Hotaru opened the hover's door, and stepped out. The chill air assaulted her throat as she breathed deeply, calming her nerves and seeking her mental center.

"Put your hands above your head, and walk slowly toward me. If you try anything, I will put a round through your leg and take you with me anyway. I prefer your cooperation."

Clasping her hands behind her head, Hotaru walked slowly down Oleander towards her Target. When she was within five meters of him, he lowered the rifle, and reached quickly into a pocket, pulling out a pair of black zip ties. Stepping forward, he grabbed her right wrist, looping a zip tie around it, cinching it tight. The left wrist was next. As he brought the two together behind her back, Hotaru pressed the center button, and a harsh wailing siren emitted from her chronometer.

Slade put his hands over his ears, and Hotaru reared back with a foot, catching Slade in the leg, knocking him off balance. She used the moment of confusion to take off in the direction of her hover, pumping arms and legs as fast as they would go to get away from him. Silencing the alarm, she rounded the door to get in the hover. Another shot rang out from the rifle, shattering the mirror into pieces, and Hotaru ducked to avoid the debris.

She could hear footsteps coming closer, and she reached for her Boom Stick. Popping up quickly, she discharged its energy in the general direction she had last seen him, but it flew harmlessly down the street. She rapidly scanned left and right, trying to discern his location. Another crack in the air, and the front windshield blew into the hover, causing her to duck behind the door yet again.

I need to get to that truck. It's the only thing I can use as leverage on him.

She saw an alcove across the street and ran for it, colliding with the wall as Slade fired yet another round at her. If she kept this up, he'd just wait and pick her off, then bring her back to get whatever information he wanted out of her. This had to end now. Hotaru charged up her Boom Stick, then tossed a spare power cell out onto the street by her hover. She fired the Boom Stick at the power cell, and was rewarded by a spectacular explosion as the cell disintegrated, igniting the hover's fuel source in the process.

Hotaru dashed out of the alcove and ran down the street, toward the truck. She had made it had the distance when she heard the roar of the truck's engine and the chirp of the rubber tires on the asphalt. She reversed direction, running as fast as she could away from him. Hotaru dodged onto the sidewalk, weaving around lampposts and racks displaying wares from the mom and pop stores along the avenue, hoping it would give her an edge.

Slade bounced in the cab of the truck as the tires mounted the curb and he began to drive down the sidewalk, chasing Hotaru. The email from the stranger said that she had answers. Clothes and baked goods flew over the truck as he crashed into, and through, the carts that lined the path. There was a crash and the sound of metal on metal as he crashed into the open door of the bank, sending deposit slips into the air like confetti. As the truck cleared the bank, he jammed on the brakes, then slammed the gas pedal to the floor as he saw Hotaru angling across the intersection, heading for the park.

They had crossed almost to the edge of the city now, and trees and brush replaced the buildings and planters of the manicured retail areas. Hotaru ran a few meters ahead of him, using trees and benches to block a direct path to her. Ahead, the trees grew thicker as nature became more prominent. He yanked the wheel to the right, angling the truck up onto the grass, and gunned it, tires spinning on the grass before finding purchase and propelling the truck toward its goal.

Running as fast as she could, Hotaru scanned the area ahead for some miracle as the air in her lungs burned with the exertion she was putting her body through. She could hear the loud roar of the engine as he came for her, but she couldn't give up. Just then, she saw a large hole ahead, and off to her right. It was mostly grown over, but the indent was still visible. She cut to the right, causing him to veer recklessly in her direction to keep up.

The truck was less than a meter away when she leaped into the air, jumping over the two meter wide depression in the landscape. Landing hard, she rolled three times before coming to a stop. As she rolled, there was a loud thud as the left front tire of the truck entered the depression and brought the speeding truck to a halt with all the force of a train hitting a rock wall. She could hear the airbag go off, but she started running again, this time toward the copse of trees that marked the entrance to the forest.

As she neared the first of the dense group of trees, she glanced back as the sound of breaking glass heralded the chase - he was alive, and still coming for her.

"That's it!" She heard him scream at her. "Now I play dirty."

# CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Palmyra, Eastern UT, December 10, 2308 11:10:11 (T-Minus 02:18:29:49)

Hotaru ran into the forest, narrowly avoiding the low branches of the first tree that threatened to knock her from her feet. She could hear him behind her, no more than fifty meters. She pushed harder, adrenaline fuelling her flight from death.

As she ran, her gaze flitted from tree to tree, trying to find something to climb and get out of the way. The trees here were so sparse and thin. Deeper she plunged, using her hands to block the small branches and needles from the pines from scratching her face and neck. She came upon a clearing, and saw it: a large oak tree that would definitely support her weight.

She ran past the tree, doubling back in a wide circle toward the clearing. The tree was good, but she'd have to get the hounds off her scent if she had any hope of climbing high enough to avoid detection. She shrugged her coat off, and holding it in one hand, grabbed for the knife at her belt.

Cutting three small jagged chunks from the bottom hem, Hotaru scattered them in different directions behind her, before sending the remainder of the jacket up a tree that looked like it could support her weight. It lodged satisfyingly on the second row of branches, and she took off again.

She continued her circuitous route to her escape, dodging trees and fallen limbs as she ran. Ahead, she could see the remains of a fallen tree, moss-covered and decaying. Approaching the tree, she suddenly dropped to the forest floor as she heard the discharge of a Boom Stick. It hit a tree ahead of her, producing so much debris there was a mist of toothpick sized wood fragments.

Somewhat safe under the fallen tree, she calmed her breathing, focusing on the scene around her, seeking her mental center. She piled the leaves and debris around her, and she slowly began to disappear. Another few seconds, and Hotaru was invisible.

"I know you're here, 0256773," Slade said menacingly, chest heaving from the chase. "I can still hear your breathing."

Hotaru didn't waste any time, cautiously moving away from the fallen tree and heading toward her sanctuary. She spied a rock ahead, and picked it up, casting it as hard as she could in the opposite direction she was travelling. It landed with a thud behind Slade, and he whirled to face the sound.

Hotaru took off, sacrificing stealth for distance as she sped away from her would-be captor. She became visible through the low foliage and she began to zigzag to avoid detection. Slade whirled back, and launched another volley from his Boom Stick in Hotaru's general direction. It landed a few meters behind Hotaru, sending dirt, leaves and debris flying in all directions. A fallen branch struck Hotaru in the shoulder, tearing through her shirt and the skin beneath it.

Wincing, Hotaru clamped her left hand over the wound, and kept running. She smelled smoke, and realized that the last projectile from Slade's Boom Stick had ignited the dry tinder beneath the carpet of leaves and mosses. The ideal conditions found on the forest floor allowed the fire to spread, and smoke quickly obscured Hotaru's vision. The small blaze had quickly become a raging inferno, and burning branches fall from trees in showers of spark and flame as she ran blindly toward her destination.

The smoke made it hard to breathe, and Hotaru pulled her shirt up over her nose, wet from the sweat of her flight, offering a small amount of protection from the smoke. It didn't last long. In a matter of seconds, her throat and nose were burning, filled with the acrid odor of burning wood and the stinging sensation of smoke.

She ran, not even sure of her direction anymore, but determined to get to the tree, and up into safety. Her flight was suddenly interrupted as she slammed into something solid at chest height. The impact knocked her flat on her back, and a moment later she felt the weight of someone on top of her, straddling her.

She bucked her hips, trying with powerful legs to dislodge the attacker. The smoke was so thick that she couldn't see who was attacking her, but she was very sure that she wouldn't survive long if she didn't get moving again. A punch to her ribs, and she felt the air whoosh out of her lungs.

Another quick buck of her hips, and she felt the attacker flung off of her. She rolled to her hand and knees, desperately gasping for air, and coughing and choking as the smoke filled air entered her lungs. A sudden pain in her side as her attacker's foot connected with her stomach, sending her flying.

She landed flat on her back, a shooting pain in her lower back where she connected with a rock. Hotaru cried out in pain, and grabbed blindly to find a weapon. Her questing hand found a branch, and she grabbed it, swinging it wildly in front of her.

A thud and a cry of pain were her reward. A second later, she heard Slade hit the ground. She regrouped and stood, stick in front of her. She heard Slade rise slowly to his feet, and she fought to gain her mental center. It was hard with branches falling from above, but she managed to slow her breathing enough.

Hotaru closed her eyes, breathing shallowly through her mouth to avoid most of the smoke's fumes. She had pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth again, and it was helping. A sudden move to her left, and she swung the stick, connecting with Slade's arm. He cried out in pain, and thrust quickly with his other arm, a quick jab at her head. She moved to avoid the jab, but it caught her in the left shoulder, and she grunted with the impact.

Hotaru swung the stick again, but missed, sending her off-balance in a complete turn. Sensing that Slade was about to attack, she dropped her stick to the ground, and fell prone, sweeping with her right arm at his feet. She caught his ankle and yanked him to the ground.

Pushing away from Slade, Hotaru stood again, and took her horse stance, the first form in her aggressive Tai Chi combat routine. Still blinded from the smoke billowing from the fire around them, Hotaru began her routine. Using sounds from the forest and Slade's injured steps, she focused her mental center on Slade, and continued through her forms.

Two quick jabs found their mark in Slade's stomach, and were quickly followed up by sweeping arm movements that blocked his return punches. She next gave two quick front kicks and another jab with her right arm. All found their mark, and she heard Slade hit the floor.

A quick downward combination of knee and fist both connected, and she felt Slade go limp. The fight was out of him now. It was time to get out of here. She could feel the heat of the fire behind her, so, with arms outstretched, she made her way forward.

Keeping her feet close to the ground to avoid tripping hazards, she slowly edged her way out of the forest. She was surprised when she felt her right foot go cold and wet. She had found water. She quickly tore off her shirt, soaking it in the water and tying it around her mouth as a smoke barrier.

Cautiously, using her feet as a guide, Hotaru made her way around the water, and she found the smoke thinning. She could see the tree line ahead! She was almost out! Throwing caution to the wind, she took off at a run toward the clearing. Arms and legs pumping, her speed increased as she got closer and closer to the clear blue sky and green grass.

As her feet crossed the threshold of the forest, she exulted in her escape. She had won! She was free, for now at least. Hotaru put her hands on her knees, taking in deep breaths, cleansing the toxic air from her lungs.

She felt a whack at the back of her head and the world went black.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Slade's Bunker, Palmyra, UT December, 13, 2308 09:07:16 (Plus 00:03:07:16)

Hotaru couldn't see. It was dark. Or rather, as more of her consciousness came awake, she was blindfolded. Trying to move, she found that her wrists and ankles were bound. She wasn't in a chair - that much she could tell. Her arms were over her head, but she couldn't discern whether she was hanging. Using as many of her senses as she could, Hotaru finally decided that she was tied to a bed.

She pushed against the pillow behind her head, trying to dislodge the blindfold that someone (No, not someone, _he_ ) had tied around her eyes. She heard movement, and stopped instantly, pretending to sleep once again.

"I'm glad you're awake," a voice, _his voice_ said. "I've been worried about you. You've been out for almost forty-eight hours."

A quiet "What?" was all she could manage, her throat dry and feeling like it was full of eighty grit sandpaper. Fear gripped her heart in a stranglehold. _Two days?_

There was the noise of metal scraping on stone followed by the creak of metal. Had he just sat in a chair? Another scrape, this time closer, and she could feel his presence beside the bed.

"I'm going to remove the blindfold. I have some food and water for you. I can only imagine how thirsty you are. Will you cooperate with me?"

_Water_? The thought of a drink was like manna from heaven. She nodded fervently, raising her head so he could get at the knot at the back of her head. As the blindfold came free from her eyes, she instantly wished she had said no. The over-brilliant glare of the fluorescent bulbs tore into her eyes, sending searing tendrils of pain all the way through the optic nerves. She reflexively tried to cover her eyes, then winced as the restraints dug against the flesh of her arms.

Slade realized what was going on.

"Computer, lights at ten percent. Amber only."

The room instantly dimmed, and a soft amber glow suffused the room.

"Better?" He asked.

Taking a full minute to open her eyes, Hotaru nodded, a raspy "Thank you" coming from her lips. Slade nodded in return, and held a glass of clear liquid with a straw toward her. He brought it toward her, angling the straw to her mouth with his hand. She took a tentative sip, not fully trusting him. There was no aftertaste, and she sipped hungrily at the liquid, draining the glass in seconds. When she stopped to regain her breath, Slade grabbed a second glass, swapping the straw from the first to the second.

The second glass fared no better, and the contents were gone before you could sing happy birthday. Slade placed the glass next to its mate on the table beside him.

"Here's the deal. I'm going to allow you to sit and eat the food I've prepared for you. The room you're in is secure, and cannot be left except by using the key that I have hidden. If you try anything silly, I will knock you on the head again, and we'll see what happens when you wake up. Understand?"

Hotaru nodded, eyeing the plate over his left shoulder. She could see toast, but her nose was picking up something that smelled tremendously good. _Bacon?_ Using a pair of side cutters, Slade cut the zip ties that held her wrists and ankles to the bed. She sat up, and then winced as blood began to flow back into her arms, and the tingle began. Feeling in her hands came back first, and she began rubbing her legs and arms, restoring circulation.

With his help, she shuffled to the table, and sat at the seat he offered. She started timidly, taking small forkfuls of the eggs and fruit that were on the plate beside the toast and bacon. Her hunger quickly won out, however, and she polished of the rest in record breaking time. He offered her a second plate, which she accepted, and managed to eat slower, pausing to look around the room she was in as she finished the plate.

"Where am I?" She asked between bites.

"You are in my safe house." He replied calmly.

"A safe house? Why would you need a safe house? You're an Emissary. Why would you even consider one?"

"I knew that there was always a chance that something might go wrong, and I just wanted to be prepared for anything."

She eyed the shelves full of ammunition, food, water and clothes. "You look rather prepared. You've got enough here to keep yourself off the grid for at least a month."

"That's the idea. Especially when someone's after you."

"Like me." Hotaru said, seeing where the conversation was headed.

"Exactly. Did they tell you why you were coming to kill me?"

She shook her head, finishing the last bite of toast. "Only that you were to be made an example, 0247893."

"An _example_? That's a neat way of putting it. And they told you _why_ I was to be made this example? One second." Slade stated flatly, steering the conversation in the direction he wanted.

"I'm sorry?" Hotaru was confused.

"One second is why you're here. Because, according to Control, I Delivered one second too late."

"So you should be sentenced to time in prison, and then reestablished."

"I would agree with you. Here's the kicker: I had over two minutes remaining when I Delivered. Imagine my surprise when I looked at my Tablet and saw that it read plus sixteen seconds."

"You obviously were late, 0247893, or Control wouldn't have sent me after you."

Slade winced. "I _do_ have a name. Wouldn't they? What if someone fixed my Tablet to frame me?"

Pausing to think for a second, she finally asked: "Why would they do that?"

"What if I found out something that I shouldn't have? What if I had information that would implicate a Principal?"

Hotaru looked him straight in the eyes. "Even if you did, it seems a stretch to kill you over it. Imprisoning you I could see, but sending an Emissary after you seems like overkill."

"Or just another statistic that no one questions because of the infallibility of the Emissary Program. Are you saying that you've never questioned a Target? That you've blindly followed orders?"

"I have completed _every_ Delivery..." she trailed off, looking away. Thoughts of the information from Abujamal's office flashed in her mind.

"But?"

"What if I had information that questioned the existence of diseases? Diseases that we deliver on a daily basis. Diseases that have been cured for over fifty years, but are still prevalent in our society?"

"If you had information like that, I wouldn't be surprised if Control sent someone after _you_.

She looked at the floor, thoughts of the man in the truck rushing from her memories into her consciousness.

"They did. You're driving the truck that he tried to run me over with."

Slade checked his chronometer. "And now that you've missed your Delivery deadline, they're going to send another to find you to--how did you put it?"

"To make an example of me." She finished quietly.

Slade nodded. "Just like they want to do with me. But now they're going to be after _both_ of us."

Her head snapped up, realization mixed with shock and fear in her eyes.

"If I go back, if I explain, they'll listen to me. I have a great track record. I've never missed a Delivery. They'll have to listen. I can make it right."

"Tell that to the guy in the truck. I'm sure he was listening to you when you tried to explain."

Hotaru put her head in her hands, thinking. Slade crossed the distance, squatting beside her.

"Hotaru, think about it. If they wanted to talk to you. If they wanted to _listen_ to you, would they have sent someone after you? You were in the middle of a Delivery."

She looked up, confusion and despair playing across her features. Hotaru struggled to recall anything out of the ordinary that happened during the mission. Aside from the attack in the washroom, there was - _wait: the information from Abujamal's office_. She jumped up from the chair, pacing the room, trying to organize her thoughts. As she neared the chair again, Slade reached out, taking her hand in his.

"Relax," he continued. "We're in the _safe_ house, remember?"

"What's so safe about it?" Hotaru was starting to tremble. "All they have to do is track our chronometers, and we're done for!" She stood, and started walking toward the exit hatch.

"Hotaru, calm down. We're safe. Trust me."

"But all they have to do is feed our coordinates to whoever they have trying to find us, and BOOM we're fried and dead. You know how easy it is! You've tracked people for twenty-five years. We won't even know-"

Slade slammed his hand down on the table. Plates and cutlery jumped up off the table, rattling back to their positions. Hotaru jumped also, despite the fact that she was two meters away.

"Would you _listen_ for a minute? Sit." He pointed to the chair she had recently vacated and she slowly ventured back to the table, sitting.

"You've been tracking me for what, a week? Did you ever notice that my signal disappeared? Or stayed in one place? Or both?"

She nodded.

"This safe house is shielded from all GPS tracking. I've switched out my chronotag once, but I'm due for another switch. When I do, we'll switch yours, assuming you want to find out more about the information you're _not_ supposed to know."

"But the Tablet...?" She said uncertainly.

"Tablets are still traceable, but not while we're down here. They're also easily swapped out with any other out there. I have copper phone wire that gives me dial-up untraceable internet, but the trade off is that it's slow. If you want to find out what's going on, this is as just as good a place as any to do research and gather intel, and Control can't find you unless you go outside where the retinal scanners can pick you up."

"Having a secure place is a great idea, and I'm sure that I would find out more about what I'm looking for. Up until a couple of minutes ago, you didn't know that I knew anything more than my mission. Why would you want to help me?"

"Because you're the key to helping me solve my issue with Control."

"I was trying to Deliver to you. To _eliminate_ you. How can I be the key to solving your issue?"

Slade handed her his Tablet, pointing at the open email:

From: <unknown sender> (unknown@unknown.com)

To: 0247893 (0247893@icorps.corp)

Subject: Open for your protection

Emissary 0247893,

It seems that you have run into a bit of a problem after your last Delivery. Know that I am on your side, and I want to help. For your protection, you must track down the Emissary that is after you, and demand answers from her. I know about the missing time from your chronometer, but I cannot divulge more here. Find 0256773 and seek your answers.

OM

"Who's OM? And how can you trust them?"

"I don't know who, but he, or she knew about my missing time. They also told me that you were critical in helping me. That's good enough for me at this point. What do you know?"

"About your missing time? Nothing. I was sent after you because you failed to Deliver."

"I failed to Deliver because of the missing time. But this is getting us nowhere. You said _you_ had information. What do you have?"

"I have diseases that have been cured for fifty years that are still killing millions today. Diseases like Cancer, Heart Disease and Smallpox.

"But those diseases _haven't_ been cured. They've been working on a cure for Cancer since the turn of the millennium."

"What if I could show you research that says otherwise?"

"I'd be _very_ interested in seeing it. My mother died from Cancer just before I became an Alpha."

Hotaru smiled a knowing, sad smile. "And my father died from Smallpox..." she trailed off, eyes widening in realization. "Hold on a second."

"What?" Slade asked, confused.

"Your mom died from Cancer. My dad died from Smallpox. Both are diseases that do not occur in the natural world anymore, and both developed symptoms suddenly after we Delivered."

"So you're saying _we_ gave them the disease?"

"I'm saying that the Letter gave them the disease, we were just the delivery system."

"Why would they do that?" Slade asked, dumbfounded.

"A better question is Who is 'they'?"

"Control. It has to be. They're the ones who give us our assignments."

Slade crossed the room, grabbing Hotaru's Tablet. Taking it from Slade, she switched it on, and waited for it to boot up. Slade grabbed his Tablet also, unlocking the home screen and inputting his password. He connected to the internet, and began to download the data from his cloud calendar and email programs. Opening his browser, he heard a chirp, and realized that Hotaru's Tablet was up and running also. He gave her the login and password to access his router, and watched as she input them, gaining access to the internet.

She accessed her email, expecting to see the dreaded email from Control requesting she turn herself in for questioning. Belatedly, she realized that no such email would come \- Control would just send another after her. As her inbox loaded, both Tablets chirped at the same time, and two pairs of eyes glanced down to see the new messages. There was only one, and the subject heading was _Greetings_.

Simultaneously, they both opened the message:

From: Unknown <unknown@unknown.com>

To: 0247893 <0247893@icorps.corp>, 0256773 <0256773@icorps.corp>

Subject: Greetings

Greetings Emissaries!

You have finally reached the point where I can be frank and instruct you on the things that you need to know based on events that have recently transpired. While I regret that I cannot reveal my identity, please rest assured that I am a friend, not an enemy.

The first step toward taking action is to rid yourselves of any connection to iCorps. I have taken the liberty of sending a courier to your current location with new hardware to keep you off of the grid. Once the package has arrived, destroy the Tablets and chronometers you possess. I will be in contact with you once I see they are activated.

The longest journey begins with a single step. You have taken that step, and the journey will be hard, but immensely rewarding.

Sincerely,

OM

Slade and Hotaru looked at each other, mouths gaping. They swapped Tablets, reading the same message on both.

"What do we do?" Hotaru asked, breaking the stunned silence.

"If a courier shows up at my door, I say we follow the instructions. We can always turn back and proceed with our own projects if we disagree with this one."

She nodded. "Agreed. I wonder how long we'll have to-"

There was a thump-thump-thump-thump-thump, in the "shave and a haircut" rhythm at the top of the metal stairs. Someone was there.

"Wait." She finished.

# CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Slade's Bunker, Palmyra, NY December 13, 2308 09:46:12 (Plus 00:03:46:12)

They both looked toward the bunker's entrance. More thumps, "shave and a haircut" again, and then silence.

"That's really eerie." Hotaru said.

"Uh huh. You're not kidding." Slade said, heading up the stairs. "Check the middle monitor on the desk. There's a video feed to outside."

Hotaru rushed over, eyes scanning the screen frantically.

"There's no one there. But I can see a blue box. It's to the left of the access door."

"Great. I'll get it." His voice echoed down the stairway.

On the monitor, Hotaru watched as the access door swung open. Slade's head popped out, quickly scanning the area in all directions. He grabbed the box and quickly darted back inside, slamming the door above him. There was a small delay between the door on the video slamming and the actual audio. Hotaru found it slightly unnerving.

Slade crossed the bunker to the desk, and placed a square one meter by one meter box on the desk. It was the blue of a summer sky, with aluminum reinforced edges and corners, like an old steamer trunk might have had. There was no lock, but a black and green fingerprint scanning pad rested in the center of the top side. Slade put his index finger to the pad, and nothing happened.

"You try," he said to Hotaru.

She did, with the same result - nothing.

"Together, maybe?" she suggested.

They both put their index fingers on the pad, and there was a slight click followed by a hiss of trapped air as it left the box. There was now an almost imperceptible seam one-third of the way down the box, and Slade opened it carefully, as if he expected a poisonous snake to jump out of the box and bite him.

What was inside the box surprised them both. Two shiny silver chronometers rested off to one side, nestled in foam. The soft amber light reflected off the faces like a sunset. Above the chronometers were two chronotags, and two pair of sunglasses above that. The left side of the box was dominated by a large square box. Opening the box, Slade found two new Tablets. Unlike the ones they used at The College, these new Tablets were sleek, with rounded corners and large display screens that at the moment were black. He lifted them out, handing one to Hotaru, and then distributed the rest of the gear. Underneath the Tablets was a note, handwritten in shaky script:

Activate Tablets first. Dial your Emissary number in reverse as the activation code. Use signal from Tablets to activate Chronometers and tags. Sunglasses will be explained.

"Seems simple enough," Slade said, pushing the power button to power his Tablet up. Once it was powered up, he pressed the _Login_ button, and entered _3987420_ followed by the _Enter_ key. There was a small set of musical notes and the word _Welcome_ appeared. Slade went through the remainder of the setup process, storing his fingerprints for easier login access and customizing the menus to his preferences.

Hotaru followed his lead, and once her Tablet was set up, they activated the chronometers and tags, linking them to the Tablets. There was a chirp from the Tablets, and they once again opened their email programs, knowing with certainty that there would be an email from "OM"

From: Old Man <brothersky@brothersky.net>

To: Slade <slade@brothersky.net>, Hotaru <hotaru@brothersky.net>

Subject: Meeting

Slade and Hotaru,

You are now a team. That means you have to work as one. We have a common enemy, you and I. It may be hard for you to believe, and that is why I must meet with you in person to discuss our plan of attack. Meet me tonight at the Sundance Motel, 7 pm. Ask for Bill Brooks. Wear the sunglasses, no matter the weather. They will keep you safe.

Old Man

"That settles that," Hotaru said. "Do you have any idea where the Sundance Motel is?"

"Yes. I stayed there a few times during Deliveries. That's probably why he picked it. We'll take the truck."

Hotaru checked her chronometer. It was three o'clock.

"I don't suppose you thought ahead far enough to have some clothes for a lady? I need a shower. Badly."

"I'll see what I can rustle up. Towels are in the cupboard beside the shower."

When Hotaru stepped out of the shower, there was a neat pile of clothes waiting for her. They mostly resembled her _iCorps_ uniform, but lacked the stylized 'I' logo. She dressed quickly, and met Slade at his desk. He was busy poring over schematics of the hotel.

"Problems?" She asked, peering over his shoulder at the blueprints on the monitor in front of him.

"Not really, but I like to have a way out in case this heads south."

She pointed to the monitor. "I see exits at both ends of the building on all floors."

"Fire escapes." He said. "As well as the main entrance and the loading dock. That makes twelve exit points."

"Do you expect trouble?"

"I'm hoping there isn't. But you can bet your butt that Control has someone after us. Probably two or more."

She nodded, pointing at the lounge. "Is that where we're meeting him?"

"Probably. It would make the most sense, but from a security perspective, it's a nightmare on our side. Anyone in that room could be waiting to Deliver."

She paused, scanning the blueprints once more. "I guess we'll just have to go on faith."

"Let's hope," Slade said, standing from the desk and grabbing his new sunglasses. "I hate surprises."

# CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The Sundance Motel, Palmyra, NY December 13, 2308 18:47:19

They arrived at The Sundance at six fifty. The sun had set hours ago, and the street was illuminated by the harsh orange of the amber lights overhead. Walking the sidewalk past the convenience store and flower shop, Slade pointed to the building ahead. It was painted flat black, absorbing the light of the overhead lamps instead of reflecting it. There was no signage of any kind, and the only identifying mark that indicated the building was actually inhabited was a sputtering blue neon rectangle over the double doors which read "VA NC".

Reaching into his pocket, Slade donned the sunglasses, and remarked how they didn't make the streetscape darker. Hotaru quickly donned hers.

"I think they might be magnifying and clarifying the images." She said, glancing at the petals of a bunch of daisies in the flower shop window as they passed.

"I think you're right," Slade said, removing the glasses and replacing them repeatedly, checking the difference in visual images. He looked up, placed the glasses over his eyes, and motioned to the door. "We're here."

They entered The Sundance, heading to the reception desk a few meters inside. A screen stood vertical on the desk, and a tall brunette motioned to it.

"Will you be checking in?" She asked.

"Visiting a guest, actually. We're here to see Bill Brooks?"

She nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. Mr. Brooks indicated he was expecting guests. Please scan yourselves in."

Slade froze, stealing a sidelong glance at Hotaru, who tapped the frame of her sunglasses. Slade pressed the blue button at the base of the terminal. He leaned down, pretending to remove the glasses, allowing the laser to read his retina. _Would it read through the lenses?_ A soft chirp from the terminal, and he backed away, watching the display on the monitor. Sure enough, his picture appeared - his old _iCorps_ ID picture - but underneath, to his surprise, it did not display _his_ name. Instead, it read _Blair Vold._

"Excellent. And you, miss?"

Hotaru leaned down, mimicking Slade's actions, and waited for the terminal to do its thing. Moments later, the chirp sounded, and she backed up, excited to see the glasses in action again. Sure enough, her picture was there, and underneath - _Megan Vold._

"Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Vold. Is this your first time at The Sundance?"

Slade shook his head. "I've been here a couple times." Hotaru quickly nodded, impulsively grabbing Slade's arm.

"Fantastic." She motioned with her arm to the hallway off to the left. "Elevators are around the corner to the left. Mr. Brooks has instructed us to guide you to his room - number four nineteen. Enjoy your time at The Sundance."

"Thank you." Slade said, guiding Hotaru around the desk toward the elevators.

They arrived at the fourth floor without incident. As the elevator doors opened, they found themselves in a long hallway decorated blandly in cream and taupe, with the occasional scarlet accent - a picture frame here, a vase full of white flowers there. The carpet looked almost new, but there were definite signs of use. Numbers on the doors were predictable, evens on one side of the hallway, and odds on the other.

"Four fifteen...four seventeen..." Hotaru said scanning the numbers as they walked the hall. Reaching four nineteen, they stopped. Slade raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. He looked at Hotaru, who, despite the dim lighting of the hallway, still wore her sunglasses. He had gotten used to the view, and had forgotten he was wearing his pair. Shaking his head as if to clear a bad memory, Slade knocked on the door in the same "shave and a haircut" pattern that the courier had.

The door opened a minute later, and a _very_ tall, _very_ wide man dressed in a suit stood in the doorway. Where most men presented a rectangular profile, this man had a definite square profile - nothing but muscle and brawn. Even after a _SKATE_ download, Slade doubted that he could take this man in a fair fight. The man looked them over, appraising each in turn. When he spoke, his voice was sepulchral, a rumble that could be felt where Slade stood, nearly two meters away.

"Mr. and Mrs. Vold. So very nice of you to join us. Please come in. I will take you to Mr. Brooks."

He moved out of the doorway, and they followed him into the room. Being a corner suite, and at the top of the motel, the room was bigger than Slade had expected - certainly bigger than his Dwelling - no his _former_ Dwelling at The College. It had a separate full bedroom, washroom, kitchen and dining area, and a living area that boasted two leather armchairs, a leather sofa and a long granite table. The big man escorted them as far as the armchairs, and stopped.

"Mr. Brooks will see you now. Please be seated." He turned and left the room, coming to a stop three meters from the front door where he now rested like a statue.

Slade and Hotaru took seats on the sofa, sitting beside each other. Other than the big man, there was no one else in the room. A click from the left, and Slade turned his head to see an old man walking from the bedroom area toward them. He was dressed finely, in a black suit and fedora that looked like it cost more than Slade's hover. Though he appeared to be in his nineties, he walked with surety and grace that belied his age.

They stood, and Hotaru took a step toward the man.

"Mr. Brooks?" She enquired.

"Indeed, young lady." Brooks' voice was a soft tenor, mellowed with age and experience. "Please sit."

He looked at the table, which was empty, and frowned. They sat, Brooks being almost swallowed whole by the big leather armchair he lowered himself into.

"Nathaniel," Brooks called to the big man. "Will you please fetch us something to drink? I fear our guests have not been shown adequate hospitality."

Hotaru started to protest, but Brooks waved it away. "We have more important things to discuss than the manners of my bodyguard."

"Thank you for the gear, sir." Slade said. "May we take off these glasses now?"

Brooks looked confused for a moment, and then chuckled, a raspy sound that was different from the smooth voice of moments ago. "Yes, yes. Their immediate use has passed."

Hotaru placed her glasses on the table, and Slade followed suit. He was about to ask Brooks another question when Nathaniel returned bearing a silver tray laden with three teacups on saucers, a sugar bowl, a cream decanter, and spoons. He distributed the cups, Kona coffee for Hotaru, and tea for Slade and Brooks. Placing the cream and sugar in the middle of the table, he departed, his steps silent for such a large man. As Slade dumped two spoonfuls of sugar into his tea, he turned to Brooks. He had lifted his cup to his lips, and was sipping the warm beverage. Again, Slade was about to speak, and again he was interrupted.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but how do we know you haven't poisoned the drinks?" This came from Hotaru, who had not even touched her cup.

"A valid question, young one. But if I was really out to kill you, don't you think I could have done so already, using the very gear that you are wearing now?"

She seemed mollified a bit by the answer, but still sat straight, eyes scanning the room wary of any potential danger that might be lurking in one of the other rooms.

"Mr. Brooks?" Slade got the old man's attention. "We came here because you said you had answers. I'd like to hear some of those answers now. What can you tell me about my missing time?"

Brooks smiled then, a grandfatherly smile that made both Hotaru and Slade feel a little more at home.

"Your two minutes are safe within the Integrated Registration Information System. I am afraid that you were setup, Slade."

"I knew it!" Slade said, bringing his fist down on his knee. "But why? Was it because of what I found in Crimea? About Herman's smuggling ring?"

"That is the biggest part of it. The other part has to do with the four men you killed while in a berserk rage. Together, these events comprise a bigger whole that threatens the stability put in place by the Emissary program. The Director has decided to make an example of you to show the rest of the Emissary Corps that they must stay within the strict guidelines given to them while in training during Beta School."

Slade's shoulders slumped, the high and exhilaration of being right was immediately deflated by the memory of the four guards in Crimea. He looked at Hotaru and his face flushed, embarrassment clearly showing. Hotaru thought of Kozel, how she had gone into a similar rage, with identical results - the death of an innocent.

"I have hand picked you Slade, to help me bring down someone who should have been brought down a long time ago. This bit about Herman merely accelerated the timeline. You are a man who," he turned to Hotaru, indicating her with his hand. "Like Hotaru here, has an ingrained, defined set of principles that aspires to a higher purpose. A sense of duty, sure, but also justice, and morals above reproach."

Hotaru and Slade looked at each other, and then back to Brooks.

"Bring someone down?" Hotaru asked.

Brooks chuckled again, air wheezing out of his lungs in a raspy flow.

"I get ahead of myself. Let me go back to the beginning. There is a person, _one_ person, who sits at the Head of _iCorps_. She calls the shots on all operations, and has complete veto power on _any_ decision, at _any_ time. She has more power than the Principals."

Slade moved as if he was about to speak, but Brooks silenced him. "Let me finish. I will answer your questions after."

Slade nodded.

"Her purpose is to monitor and control the Emissary Program, maintaining the numbers of Alpha Emissaries, and Beta and Gamma recruits to fill the openings. She also monitors the assignments, and facilitates issues via Control. Make sense so far?"

They both nodded, eager for more information.

"Here's where the story gets interesting. Iris has been in power for nearly eighty years. She ascended to her current position in 2239, and has been overseeing the program since. In that long tenure, she has seen eighteen Imperators come and go, Principals in every territory change, and has watched two Colleges reach the completion of their renovations. Though our society has changed, evolved, Iris has remained constant in her vigilance, watching, gathering, and acting."

Brooks shifted in the armchair, placing his cup on the table, and leaning back into the chair, resting his right ankle on his left knee.

"Over the last year, you've probably noticed that the amount of Deliveries has increased." Slade and Hotaru both agreed, and Brooks continued. "Though the official quota hasn't changed, the frequency has, and Emissaries are now Delivering close to three hundred and twenty Letters annually. The reasoning? There is none. Iris is now sending Letters at her own whim, with no rhyme or reason, to people who _may_ be a threat, who have the _potential_ to be a threat. This is beyond the scope of the program, inhumane beyond reason. We must remove her."

Brooks paused, letting his words sink in. Hotaru thought of Abujamal. Was he _actually_ a threat? Had she Delivered on a whim because Iris _thought_ that the Doctor represented a future threat without actually being one?

"How do you Deliver to the one who issues the Letters?" Hotaru asked, breaking the silence.

"How, indeed." Brooks replied, a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"We'll have to find another way, Hotaru." Slade said confidently.

"You already _have_ a plan, don't you?" She asked Brooks. "You said you hand picked Slade."

"Very perceptive, young lady. I've been trying to find a way to bring her down for years. To find someone with the correct unbreakable drive and moral compass that will see this through. I had noticed Slade from a young age. You are the icing on an already baked cake. The two of you are the beginning of the end."

"What is your plan?" Slade asked.

"We have to go to the source - where Iris resides. Once we're there, we'll need to neutralize any threats and remove her. It will no doubt be a dangerous endeavor. Our movements and actions will need to be planned out, strategic, precise. But before we go there - before we undertake this mission of reclamation - we need to assemble a few more pieces of the puzzle. We need a bigger team. We need to make sure we cannot fail. This is the last chance I'll have to make this right. I'm getting too old. I have to make this right _now_."

# EPILOGUE

Deep in the freezing Antarctic summer, Casey Station stood sentry over the ice, rock, and water that made up the southern most continent on the planet. The Red Shed stood empty, as it had been for the past century plus, empty save for the Integrated Registration Information System, which continued to catalogue the data it had been programmed for.

In addition to receiving data, today the System was also actively _looking_ for data. Very _specific_ data. The screens showed varying views of the City of Palmyra, New York. ABM, traffic and satellite cameras showed every outdoor meter of the town, and where they could not see, security cameras hacked by the System's subroutines allowed access inside offices, coffee shops and hospitals. Hijacked webcam feeds allowed the System to see inside the homes of the citizens of Palmyra, and still there was no sign of the information it searched for.

The two top rightmost screens stopped changing, showing the ID cards of Slade Meechan and Hotaru Kogame. A red "Missing" flashed over their pictures, alternating with a white "Wanted". A screen below showed the upload status to the major news networks. UTNN, SNEWS, and FOX all showed completion, with various others around the world, including Al-Jazeera and CBC showing less than twenty percent remaining. Text files containing a fabricated story had already been mailed to the station managers, and their announcers would be broadcasting the story as soon as the pictures had been processed by their graphics departments. Within hours, the entire world would be looking for the two ex-Emissaries.

Yet another screen showed the names and profile pictures of the four Beta Emissaries that were being pre-emptively activated to Alpha Status per EmergActive Protocol. William Edwards, Michelle Brunet, Jamie Perry, and Mack York were all now receiving notifications via their chronometers to report to their Colleges for active duty. In addition, two Alphas - Alexandra Knight and Jace Murphy were just now receiving their new mission parameters to assemble the Betas. Once ready, they would embark in groups of three to find Hotaru and Slade.

Immediate precautions taken, the System returned half of its resources to its original duties, cataloguing and recording the various information that it required, keeping the other half working on the two rogue Emissaries. Delivery instructions were sent to the six Emissaries, notifications waiting on their LND's for them to read. They would be given an unprecedented _fourteen_ days to track and Deliver. The information must be kept hidden. The world must not know about Frankl's secret.

Satisfied that there were no further immediate steps to be taken, IRIS returned full processing power to her usual purpose. Watching. Writing. Waiting. Sooner or later, they would have to come to the surface, and when they did, IRIS would be watching. IRIS would be waiting. And IRIS would wipe them out.

###

Thank you for reading this book. It represents over two years of creating, writing, editing, and formatting. It has fulfilled one of my dreams, and I hope that it allowed you to escape into one of yours.

Thanks!

A.J. Leavens

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Hungry for more? Book Two of _The Meechan Chronicles_ is coming to your favorite eBook device soon!
