VERSE NINE

MATRES OPERANDI⁹

9:1

Rain fell on Carbon City.

The lights of the technology district pulsed in random sequence, except for the microcosm of Bohr Industries. The Main Campus stood like a brochure; warm streetlamps holding static shadows against the labs, hangars, and presentation halls. Security drones roamed the walking path in clockwork patterns, set to expire at the end of the month when their services would be available for a higher rate to their next owners (with the first month free, of course). Their watch-lights swanned in ripples along the reflecting pond. The greater city sprawled into the distance; a new Mecca of glittering domes and ornate towers clawing up into the night sky.

Deborah Bohr stood at the window. Boxes surrounded her. The only items left to pack were the console, the conference line, and a random assortment of notes and loose pens. But her mind was less organized. Her husband. Her son. She’d been unpacking since Eugene’s phone signal went dark, since the response time of Walt’s last text didn’t match the man purported to have sent it.

She sipped her tea. It had gone cold. She sipped anyway.

The phone on her desk blinked red with one missed call. The Registry finished running through the archives. The console spoke in pleasant tones.

Source found.

“Let’s hear it.”

Mortimer K. Nova, D.Sc. Occupation: Experimental Bio-Chemist.

Address: 12B Nova Luxury Vaults, Buzzard Road, Hazmat Twp., Kronos County.

Universal Location: Terra Prime, Outer Rim.

“Let me see Terra Prime on Looking Glass.”

Looking Glass is currently unavailable for Terra Prime.

“News sources.”

Unavailable.

“Archives then,” she said. “Recent history first. Pull up the town layout for Hazmat Township.” She took another sip, pursing her lips at the cold tart. “And get me Arnold Glaustus from the Watchmaker’s Guild.”

A 3D model of Hazmat pixelated into focus above her desk. She ad previously only been theoretically aware of their new base of operations, but her mental image of it now was somehow even dimmer than before.

Those views better beat the screensavers, Walt, Deb thought.

She toggled the settings and overlaid the appraisal history. The small town had been retreating in on itself for years; plots of land and buildings fell away with the passage of time.

Her personal phone flashed at full charge. She unplugged it and stared at the call log: dozens of outbound calls to Walt and Eugene over the past 12 hours. No return calls from either.

You’ve got the G-Man.

“Very professional, Arnold.”

Howdy, Deb. To what do I owe the pleasure?

“I’m looking at Terra,” she said. “Cozy little rock on the edge of nowhere.”

Ah, the Cradle. My parents took us there when I was but a wee lad. Always thought about going back for a pilgrimage, but who has the time?

“Can you pull up their grid?”

Sure, give me a second. Okay, looks like it’s down.

“If I could grab it from a Nexus search, I wouldn’t be calling, Arnold.”

Of course, of course. Let me work some magic…okay, wow, I forgot how the old systems looked. This is like visiting a museum.

“Are you in?”

Just passed through. I was hoping for more of a challenge. I guess that’s why they phased this architecture out.

“Do you notice anything unusual?”

It’s a minimal setup. Hasn’t been patched in nearly a decade. Sorry, Deb, but all I can say is the lights are still on. And just barely at that. We’ve got standard comms trickling in and out, but they’ re not reporting any Central Alliance fundamentals.

“Isn’t that a serious violation?” Debbie said.

You betcha. They’ll be eating sour grapes come next cycle.

“What could be causing that?”

Honestly, no clue. There are enough safeguards on those, that you’re very unlikely to lose all at once. When it happens, it’s usually a coin toss between covert ops or industrial sabotage. My guess is someone’s staging a coup or winking at the cavalry.

“Anything else jumping out at you? Maybe there’s a hidden network or forced blindspots.”

Wait just a minute…oh, you’re a clever one, Deb.

“What is it?”

Satellite trajectories.

“That’s all you’ve got?”

Rocks like this aren’t flush with cash, so they make do with a cluster of pathfinders and mini-thrusters, just enough to cover the active areas. Normally, they adjust for drift at the beginning of every other quarter. Been that way going back eight years.

“And when was the last change made?”

In the last 24 hours. Looks like late at night, early morning their time.

“Did they calibrate focus anywhere in particular?”

West border of the desert. Doesn’t look like there’s anything there. I mean, there is a town, if you can call it that. Little burg called ‘Hazmat.’

“You don’t say…” Her eyes drifted back to the information on her side console.

Even better, this same area looks like an intentional blindspot. Coverage usually drops like clockwork every time they pass through. Whoever’s been making that call really wanted visuals this time around.

“Can you hone in on that area? Let me know if you notice anything off-kilter.”

Prelims are wrapping up…mostly a bunch of nothing and dead code, but some sucker buried a feed deep under some apartments, did their best to hide it too. Must be running off a clean generator or something.

“Is that strange?”

Not at the Ministry of Justices or a blacksite. But here? Yes, most definitely.

“Can you get more without alerting their security protocols?”

What do you take me for? Alright, it’s pinging me around…rerouting through some dummy accounts. Just tricked it into thinking it beat me and here we are, end of the line. Oh. Oh. Geez, Deb. That’s not good.

“What’s wrong?”

All the data is flowing through hard military code and funnels into a private network on the other side of the planet. Some big installation called ‘Masada.’ That direction is giving me too much flak. I’ll try boosting it the other way.

“Where did you say that was?”

Other side of the Void Atlantic. Not sure what they call it. Lots of names logged here: First Mecca, the Old Eden..

Debbie turned to her other monitor. She had a copy of their family phone signals. Eugene’s had died as soon as he reached Terra, but there was plenty of history on Walt’s. She rewound the tracker, showing her husband’s location bounce between Hazmat and Atlas Rock for months. She stopped and started seeking manually, bringing it back to the present. Then, she saw it. For a brief period, a span of a couple hours, Walt’s phone popped up in a different quadrant. “Walt was there, Arnold. At least, he was when he last responded.”

What was he doing out there? Not exactly a residential neighborhood.

“No clue,” Debbie said. “Pin it for now. Can you get me anything on that buried feed? I need visuals, logs, anything that tells us what’s going on down there.”

Tricky to pull off without raising any flags.

“But I thought you were the best…”

Oh, that I am, my dear. That I am, but there’s always room for…no, you’re right. I am the best. We’ll have to wait, though. I’m shadow recording on a delay, so their system doesn’t detect me. In the meantime, check out these log files I snagged from the console.

“Formula displays incredible potential,” Deb said. “But the balances are still off. Subject’s tissue replaces itself at an astonishing rate, perhaps too well…what am I reading, Arnold?”

Keep going. It gets better.

“Okay, let’s see,” she said. “The body simply cannot retain proper form. Everything renews so rapidly that all structure is lost. The skull reverts through adolescent stages until reaching fetal consistency and the subject collapses into liquefied matter. Jesus…”

This last part’s my favorite. ‘Barely got the last subject into containment before total failure. Interns cleaned up the puddle and logged it in the sample collection.’ Nasty stuff, Deb. What is this place?

“Records say it used to be a distillery.”

What are we after here, bootleggers?

“We’re looking for trouble,” Deb said. “And I just found it. The output folder you sent. Those files came from a Progenitor system log. Looks like one of ours from back in the day.”

What’s a Progenitor?

“We built them to hard-code genetic alterations, but we never actually used them since they didn’t clear ethics trials. Any benefits were outweighed by all the potential abuses. We held onto the schematics in case they became useful later on, but the equipment itself should be spare parts in a scrapyard. When’s that visual coming through?”

Just sent you the authentication to your mail. Looks like we only got webcams, but lucky for us I’m reading two faces.

“Let’s run some facial scans.”

Already in the works. The one with glasses is Doctor Mortimer Nova, looks like he belongs to the Corps, Applied Sciences Division, and, hoo-boy, the other’s a real winner.

“He looks familiar. Did he ever work for us?”

Nope. That man is none other than Leonard Staley. Judging by the LS in the log properties, I’m assuming he’s the author of that fun, little tidbit I had you read.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Nope, it’s him alright. Thought he was locked up on Minos after that business with illegal organ farming.

“It would appear he’s out on parole,” she said. “This isn’t good, Arnold.”

Agreed. A junk scientist with that kind of equipment. To think of the poor bastards they’ve used it on…

“Can you get me a history on this feed?”

I’m working to get all I can, but it doesn’t go back far. Seems like they cleared it around the same time as those satellites.

“Damn.”

But I will have a few other visuals soon. Hopefully, they’ll show us more. It’ll just take some time to jack their security cameras. Shame I can’t get audio yet either. Oh, what’s this? We’ve got another face. Alright, tell me your name, ugly…

“Don’t bother,” Deb said. “That’s Howard Mendax.”

Shit.

“Language.”

Sorry, Deb. If I had known how deep we were going tonight, I would’ve grabbed some coffee. This is some scary stuff.

“Staley must be working on something for Mendax.”

Don’t forget about Dr. Nova.

“I don’t think he’s here of his own volition,” she said. “He’s been working with Walt over the past year. From what I’ve heard, he’s a good man.”

And where is Walt?

“Why do you think I called you, Arnold?”

Oh. Right. Sorry, Deb.

“I need to make some arrangements,” she said. “Can you stay plugged in for me?”

I’ve got no other plans tonight.

“Don’t tell anyone what you’re working on.”

I’ve cleared my status and the blinds are drawn.

“Can I ask one more favor?”

For you, Deb, anything.

“When the time comes, I’ll need you to present and verify all this after I’ve got a hearing with the Council.”

The Immutables? I know you’re a power player, Deb, but that’s a tall order.

“Let me worry about that,” she said. “I’ve kept your tab open and I’ll double your standard rate once you officially vouch.”

Come on, Deb. Don’t insult me. Friends and family and not a penny more. I know you’re clearing house for the move. I’m yours ‘till the thing’s done.

“You’re a gem, Arnold,” she said. “I’ll touch base when it’s all set.”

You got it.

Deb sighed and watched the faces on the screen. She took a sip of tea, spit it out, and dumped the rest. She took a deep breath and pressed the intercom.

“Hans, I need the expedition ark prepped for deep warp…”

9:2

The shovel was short, but Jas made it work. She’d fallen into a rhythm: dig, toss, breathe, dig, toss, breathe, dig…Austen flipped the corpses of the ambushers, cannibalizing their gear and ammo. Kale fiddled under the hood of the Hellbender, a wrench in her mouth, cursing with every newly discovered fault.

Jas whistled and Austen ran to the top of the grave. Jas kicked off the dirt wall and jumped. She caught Austen’s hand, nearly pulling her down.

“Thanks, A,” Jas said. She got on her feet and slapped Austen on the back. Austen began dragging a body toward the hole. Jas picked up a pebble, brushed it off, and chucked it under the duster.

“Fuck off, Jas,” Kale said.

“Ain’t you finished?”

“Does it look like I’m finished?”

“Hell, I just dug a hole six feet. Least you could do is fix that heap.”

“I’m sorry,” Kale said, swapping the screwdriver out with a wrench. “Did you have to rearrange the sand after you finished digging or stop halfway through to adjust the structural integrity of the soil?”

“Fuck does that mean?”

“It means you dug a hole, Jas,” Kale said. “Congratu-fucking-lations. I’m fixing a twenty-year-old bucket of cheaply made simple machines with no power tools in the dark without even a goddamned headlamp.”

“Shit, K, that’s no way to talk to your second-in-command.”

“Me report to you?” Kale said. “That’ll be the day.”

“Oh, like it’d be you.”

“I outrank you, Private,” Kale said. “Plus, ‘in-command’ isn’t necessarily a phrase I associate with your personality.”

“Hardy, fuckin’ har.”

“Why don’t you help Austen with them bodies?” Kale said. “Make yourself useful.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Jas said. “But you take much longer, I’m gonna make use of one of them bikes and leave your sorry ass in the desert.”

“Come on, Jas,” Austen said. “That’s her baby. We just can’t leave Bender out here all alone, defenseless-like.”

“Nah, it’s cool, A,” Kale said. “But you leaving, Jas, that better be a promise.”

“Pinky swear, bitch,” Jas said, smacking her lips.

Austen grabbed the legs and Jas the shoulders. They dropped the bodies into the grave. Jas took the last one and pulled him up by the neck. She pulled out her field knife and slit the jugular. She sheathed her knife and pulled out an empty nail polish bottle.

“What do you do that for?” Austen said.

“War paint,” Jas said. “If we’re going after old Howie, then I’m gonna be dressed to the nines.”

Jas screwed the cap and tucked it into her belt. Austen unfolded her trowel, Jas picked up her shovel, and they started refilling the hole.

“What do you think made them do it?” Austen said.

“Who cares?” Jas said.

“I don’t know,” Austen said. “Figure you’ve got to have a reason for firing on your own.”

“We ain’t their own,” Jas said. “Better learn that. They never saw us as anything but reminders of how small their bits were.”

“Still,” Austen said. “Gotta have a reason. Folks don’t just do this sort of thing.”

“You want a reason?” Jas said. “Take your pick. Money, blackmail, general fucking cowardice. Just trying to keep it cool in front of the other guys. Ain’t no end to the reasons for being a pathetic piece of shit.”

Austen patted the soil and tossed the shovel back in the trunk. Jas took a couple of their junked rifles and tied them together. She made a makeshift cross and pulled out her knife to carve the epitaph.

Traitors by trade, dickless by choice

She staked the cross deep and hung their dog tags by the hilt.

Kale crawled out from under the hood and hopped in the driver’s seat. She cranked it and the engine struggled and sputtered. She hit it again and the exhaust coughed up a lung, but it kept chugging.

“Bout damn time,” Jas said.

“Alright,” Kale said, revving the engine. “Who wants to tell Cap the good news?”

“Hey, sis,” Jas said. “K finally finished.”

Tidy. Hightail it to Hazmat. I’ve got the Feint’s patterns locked. Just need a few helping hands…

9:3

Molly awoke to the absence of sound. The white noise machine came unplugged from her tossing and turning. She rolled over to hug Mort and hit her hand on the nightstand instead. She pulled off her sleep mask and grumbled.

The light in the hallway was off. Sometimes Mort fell asleep on the couch, but the tv wasn’t on. She couldn’t even see the soft glow from the microwave clock in the kitchen. She slid her slippers on and went to the bathroom. The faucet groaned, complaining as she filled a disposable cup. She drained it and refilled a couple times before tossing it.

The door to Joules’ room was cracked. She flipped the light on and took the Lord’s name in vain.

“Sorry about that,” she said, looking to the sky. She grabbed her coat off the rack and pulled her arms through it. “Consarn it, Joules. Twice in one night…” She scooped up her keys and opened the door.

“Good evening.”

“Christ!” Molly jumped and held the door like a shield. A man in body armor leaned against the wall on the other side of the main hallway, his face obscured by the warped reflection of a riot mask. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

“The General assigned me this post,” he said. “Said it was for your safety.”

“That’s awful kind of him…”

“I apologize for giving you a fright. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“That’s alright,” she said. “How long are you going to be here?”

“Glued to the floor until I get my next order,” he said. “Could be all night for all I know.”

“Do me a favor then,” she said. “If you see anyone come back to this apartment, let them know I’m out looking for them.”

“Afraid I couldn’t lie like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Orders are to keep you safe, which means you’re not going anywhere.”

“Hogwash.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “I’m going to have to kindly ask you to step back inside.”

“Tell the General that Molly Nova would like a word or two with him.”

“I’ll be sure to pass it along,” he said. “Now, if you please…” He gently pulled out his sidearm and gestured toward the door. He attached a silencer and twisted it around the barrel. “I really don’t want to use this on you, ma’am, but, you see, this ain’t exactly my favorite type of gig and I am getting awful bored here.”

Molly worked her keys around in her hand until she had a balled-up fist with spikes ready to go. The soldier saw it and gave her a bemused smile. She glared at him and let her grip go.

“Guess I’ll go back to bed then,” she said. “Don’t wait up.” She slammed the door and dropped her keys. She waited for her heart to catch up with her head. The soldier’s radio squawked at him.

“Well, why don’t you check it out then?” he said. “There’s a reason you’re on perimeter, Dwight.”

Molly took a deep breath and checked the peephole. The fish-eyed image of the soldier stepped forward and looked down. Molly saw the shadow of his feet through the crack under the door. She fumbled and flipped off the light switch. The soldier grinned and stepped back.

Molly sighed in relief. The soldier covered the peephole. Molly held her breath and waited. When he uncovered it, Molly was staring down the barrel of his gun. She gasped and fell on the floor.

“Goodnight now,” he grinned. “Don’t wait up.”

Molly stumbled to her feet, shaking. She ambled toward the bathroom, her eyes flashing the light from one hallway against the dark of the other. She shut herself inside and took a moment to breathe and think. She put the toilet seat cover down, grimaced at the tiny bits of hair living between the seat and the tank, and climbed on top. She gently raised a ceiling panel, the one with an oven mitt-shaped water stain, and pulled out her pop’s old rifle and a box of shells.

She sat back down and started loading it, fingers shaking. She couldn’t remember how many bullets it took, but feeling it in her hands was enough. Bottles and cans set on top of old cement buckets. Her mom cradling her arms, cushioning her tiny shoulders to the recoil. The soft thump in the sand when she missed the target, the plinks and clanks when she hit. She slid the first shell into the chamber and cranked it into position.

The bathroom window burst open. Molly cried out and dropped the shells, scattering across the tile floor, rolling and stopping until they found a cradle in the grout. An arm dangled over the windowsill, its owner groaned and slid away. Molly dropped on the ground and raised the rifle. Her thumb strained as she cocked back the hammer. Finally, it clicked and she stayed frozen, not sure if she’d be able to move her finger even if she needed to.

“What’s up, momma?” a voice said.

Molly lowered the gun, confused.

“Jas?” she said. “Is that you?”

“Sorry about that,” Jas said, poking her head through the window. “Didn’t mean to startle…” She whistled at the rifle. “That’s some hardware you’ve got. Lucky me you’re a steady hand or you might’ve taken my head off.”

“I’m sorry, Jas,” Molly said. “I’m freaking. There’s this fella in the hallway and when the window—”

“Hold up, hold up, sweetheart,” Jas said. “What fella in the hallway?”

9:4

This is way ahead of schedule, Debbie.

“I know, Hans, but it’s an emergency,” Deb said. Her hands moved independently of her conversation, dancing over the keyboard and trackpad. She’d allocated a certain percentage of focus for the call while the rest of her mind spun through a list of actionable items.

Emergency or no, this is going to ruffle a lot of feathers. There’s no time for board approval and—

“The board’s dissolving regardless,” Deb said. “We’ve already been over this. No one’s coming to Terra outside of Walt, myself, and loyal crew like yourself.”

Still, I doubt they’ll be pleased.

“Oh, they’ll love it,” Deb said. “They can clear the place out and collect their buyouts all the sooner.”

I suppose. Still, are you sure about deployment?

“I need to get to Terra as soon as possible and the expedition ark is the only ship we have that can make that many warps.”

Debbie scanned through flight paths, taking mental note of the Pylons with tolls and special permissions. She figured they’d need to fast-track an inter-system passport and receive approval from at least one transit union for such a trip.

Yes, but the Gigan’s meant to be run with a full crew; engineers, medical, kitchen, and—

“Did I stutter, Hans?”

A pause.

No. No, you didn’t.

“Then make the call already. Get me anyone willing to join. Everyone else can either ship out according to the original schedule or they can take their severance. We’re still offering the full package until end of month.”

Yes. Right away. I’m sorry for my tone. I didn’t mean to upset you.

“It’s alright, Hans, I’m not upset at you. How soon can we be ready for liftoff?”

We can be half-stocked and fully fueled within the hour. Do you want me to bring the car around?

“No, thank you,” she said. “I’m heading to the roof. I wouldn’t leave my baby behind.”

Of course. Again, I’m sorry for my tone with you. I shouldn’t have questioned your request.

“You’re fine, Hans,” she said. “It’s just been a long day and it’s about to get even longer. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Thank you for your help.”

You’re most welcome. I’ll see you at the hangar.

“And, Hans?”

Yes, Debbie?

“I’m glad you’re staying on with us. I know it wasn’t an easy decision.”

17 years and counting, Debbie. The only difficult decision would be going the other way.

“You’re a treasure, Hans. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A lot less, I would imagine.

“You’re not wrong there. I’ll meet you at the loading dock.”

Understood. Safe travels.

Deb gathered all the readouts and files hovering above her desk and swiped them into her laptop. She packed her bag, picked up her phone, and headed through the automatic glass door to the balcony. She paused and stepped into her private elevator for the last time.

As she ascended, the rain let up and the clouds passed. The early night sky revealed itself in crisp detail in direct accordance with the Forecast Committee’s recent vote. Even with centuries of climate manipulation, there was still a psychological impact to consider when designing the daily weather. You could only go so long without rain, only so long without a thunderstorm, until the internal pressure built up, spoke to your bones, told you that something’s off; you can only trust so many perfect days in a row. So, the committee would grant the occasional storm, tumble dark clouds over the sunshine, to reset those rhythms, before going right back to the ideal and delivering the picaresque, photo-ready skies the public expected and various boards of commerce demanded.

Rainwater glazed the streets, capturing dazzling stars on the ground until evaporation finally let them go. The Betelgeuse Nebula skirted the horizon like a cosmic lava lamp. Sky traffic smoothed out, people went for walks, and Carbon City resumed commercially approved equilibrium.

The elevator opened and Deb strode to her bright red shuttle. She opened the door and started the engines. The onboard computer greeted her.

Welcome back, Deb. Would you like to take your scheduled route now?

“Not tonight,” she said. “I’ll go manual. Call my father-in-law, please.”

As you wish. Dialing Victor Bohr.

Deb checked her fuel levels and adjusted the temperature.

Good evening, D. I’m guessing this means you’ll be missing dinner again?

“Yes, Vic, but not for the normal reasons,” she said. “I need you to pack some clothes for Astra and meet me at the hangar.”

A little short notice for going off-world, Deb. I know you’ve been planning the move, but here I thought we had at least until the end of the month.

“Vic,” she said. “Walt and Eugene are missing.”

Well, I haven’t been able to get ahold of them either, but it could just be bad reception.

“There hasn’t been a hiccup in our network in years and you know it.”

I know. I just don’t like to worry until I’ve got reason to.

“It’s Howard Mendax.”

Oh…

“Howard’s on Terra. With Walt and Eugene. And they aren’t answering.”

Yes. Yes, I see. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll get Astra ready and meet you there.

“Thanks, Vic.”

I love you.

“Love you too. See you in a bit.”

Deb initiated liftoff. Her shuttle hovered upward. The landing gear retracted. She set engines to full-burn and took off for the Bohr Industries main hangar, breaking just about every air safety law on the way.

9:5

All quiet in my sector, Dwight. You finished checking behind the tavern yet?

Working on it. Jesus, Slim. You’re worse than Brugada.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Brugada yawned in the Vaults hallway. His electrodes lit up. “Shit,” he said to himself. “It was just a yawn…”

Sorry, boss, but this ain’t the Corps. Don’t recall anything in my contract saying I gotta whisper sweeting nothings in your ear.

“Yeah, and nothing says I gotta bring you back to Galax with us.” He pulled out his armor’s interface and tweaked the adrenaline settings. “But I’m assuming you don’t want to be left on this rock…

Alright, alright, I was just fooling. Okay, I’m back here and I don’t see shit. I think Slim needs his eyes—

Dwight? Dwight, come in. Shit.

I need eyes on Dwight. Hogan, where are you?

I’m on it, just give me a—

“Slim, what’s going on out there?”

Shit, Brugada. Can’t see shit.

“You got night vision, assholes. Use it.”

Ain’t working, boss.

Shit’s gone haywire.

Someone get me eyes on Dwight and Hogan.

“You guys better not be fucking around up there,” Brugada said. Silenced bullets whizzed outside, thumping in the dirt and plinking against the outer hull of the Vaults.

“Excuse me?” Molly said through the door. “Sir?”

“I thought I told you to go back to bed,” Brugada said. “I’m stepping out for a stroll, but don’t think I’m not going to check on you when I’m done.”

“What’s your name?”

“There’s a not a single reason why you need to know that,” he said. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at the door. “Now, I know you’re smart enough to be away from that peephole, but there’s only a couple spots your pretty little head might be and I can get off six shots in two seconds.”

“Is it Hatch?”

“What?” He stomped up to the door. “What was that?”

“Hatch Brug…what was it again? Brugada?”

“How in the fu—”

The door sprung open and smacked Brugada across the cheek. His pistol went bouncing down the stairs. Electrodes surged a current through his veins. Jas jumped on him as he pulled a switchblade. She caught the knife through her hand and Brugada headbutted her. Blood shot from her nose and he threw her over his knee.

He skipped up to her and kicked her in the gut. She slipped on her bloodied hand and hit the floor. Molly watched through the cracked door, biting her lips. Brugada grinned and kicked her again. Jas grinned too. He wound up for another kick, but Jas caught his ankle and twisted until it snapped. He cried out and knocked his head against the wall. His armor lit up again and his eye twitched. She pinned him and pulled out a syringe.

Jas winked and plunged it into his neck. He fell over like a sack of flour.

“Well, that was something,” Jas said. She rolled Brugada over and grabbed his legs. “You see the whole show, Miss Molly?”

“Yeah, if that’s what you wanna call it…” She emerged from the apartment, clutching the rifle like her life depended on it. “Sorry, I didn’t join you. Didn’t want to hit you by accident.”

“And I appreciate the hell out of that,” Jas said, as she took Brugada’s lifeless body up the stairs, his head bouncing on each step. “How we doing out there, gals?”

I think we got ‘em.

No, we’re short two.

“I’ve got Brugada,” Jas said, dragging him through the lobby. She kicked the door open and pulled him into the street.

Then we’re still short one.

A body fell into the street next to Jas.

Wolfe hopped down from the roof of the Vaults and landed with a thump.

“All present and accounted for,” Wolfe said. She joined Jas dragging the bodies across the way into the outpost. They tossed them in lock-up with the others and shut the door.

“After all the stories about the Galax Feint,” Jas said., dusting her hands off. “I sure thought that would be more challenging.”

“It’s not over yet,” Wolfe said.

“What’s next?” Kale said.

“Austen, I want your eyes in the sky.”

“On it, boss,” Austen said. She saluted and disappeared up the ladder to the crow’s nest.

“Jas and Kale,” Wolfe said. “I want you both on standby in the Hellbender. Load her up. Not sure what’s coming our way, but we gotta be ready for it.”

“I’m coming with you,” Jas said.

“Like hell you are.”

“Gives us twice as much of a chance at taking him out,” Jas said.

“Yeah, and just as much of a chance to cut our team in half.”

“We agreed to take him on together,” Jas said. “That’s why we came back, right?”

“We get it wrong on the cliffs, maybe we all go down. If he makes it past me, we’ve still got you three to stop him.”

“I don’t like it,” Jas said. “But roger that.” She went over to the weapons closet and stocked up. “Alright, Kale, you already pick your poison?”

“Yup, I’ll get the Hellbender ready,” Kale said. “You load up the Dodo.”

“Hell yeah,” Jas said. “Time to make the bastards extinct.”

“Good luck, Captain,” Kale said.

Wolfe nodded as they left. She scanned the remaining ammo and pulled what she needed.

“Ahem…” Molly peaked in through the front door. “Hi-ya, Adrian.”

“Sorry about all the fuss, Miss Nova,” Wolfe said. “I was hoping to keep it quieter.”

“They bad men?” Molly said, pointing to the pile of bodies crammed into a single cell. A couple of them moaned. Brugada twitched, his electrodes trying in vain to revive him.

“Reckon so,” Wolfe said. “Or at least they get paid to be.”

“But you didn’t kill them.”

“Might I should’ve,” Wolfe said. “Time will tell.”

“What’s going on, Adrian?”

“The Vaults got a seismograph?”

“You know they do,” Molly said. “Put fresh batteries in last month.”

“Good,” Wolfe said. “You plan on going back to bed?”

“You’re a funny gal.”

“The second that meter blips, I want you to sound the alarm and get everyone out of the Vaults and into the diner.”

“Everyone in the Vaults?” Molly said. “Alright, then what do I do after those two minutes are over?”

“You said Mort’s in the basement,” Wolfe said. “How about Joules?”

“Snuck off again,” she said. “Probably chasing after that boy. Are you going to tell me what the deal is here?”

“Would if I could,” Wolfe said. “You and Mort ever finish that rear exit for the Distillery?”

“Oh, you mean our sunset spot? No, we couldn’t go through with it. Didn’t want to disturb anyone’s rest on the hill above.”

“That’s kind of you,” Wolfe said. She pocketed a couple more ammo clips and pulled a spool of rope off the wall along with a hook and a winch. “Betting the General don’t share in your reverence for the departed.”

“Adrian,” Molly said, taking Wolfe by the shoulder. “Quit fooling and tell what you’re going to do.”

“Something stupid as hell, I suppose,” Wolfe sighed. “But it’s something that needs doing.”

“Okay,” Molly said. “Just promise you’ll be safe.”

“Can’t promise that, Miss Nova.”

“And why not?”

“Because then it wouldn’t be stupid as hell, now would it?”

THE VAULTS