WARDEN 3

CHRONICLES OF A CYBORG BOOK 3

Isaac Hooke

Contents

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Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

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1

Rhea resided in the cramped cargo hold of the spacefaring merchant vessel. Crates lined the metal bulkheads and covered most of the deck. There was no gravity aboard and as such, the cases were strapped down. Using some of the spare cords, she had secured her sleeping bag to the deck between two of the crates and was tucked inside it at that very moment.

Will and Horatio had taken up residence in the same cargo hold and had secured their sleeping bags between other crates not far from her own. Will floated free at the moment, drifting in the space between crates, while Horatio occupied his sleeping bag just as she did—though his was attached to the overhead.

“Can’t believe we’re going to spend two weeks in here.” Will drifted into a crate and gently shoved off. His beard was progressing well, and his dreadlocks floated out from all around his head like the tentacles of some octopus. He wore the usual black and gray uniform. His pistol was locked away in storage, just like all of their weapons, including Rhea’s X2-59, which they’d transferred from the shuttle upon boarding. Gizmo, Will’s drone scout, was also in storage.

“Going to feel like forever, I tell you,” Will continued. “I thought this dude considered you a guest of honor. Why doesn’t he give us better quarters then?”

“Considering what we’re paying, I’m happy we have quarters at all,” Rhea said. “It’s not a very big ship, in case you hadn’t noticed. There are no guest rooms, and little else available in terms of amenities. And Targon did offer to give up his own stateroom.”

“Yeah well, you should’ve taken him up on his offer,” Will said.

“I couldn’t do that,” Rhea said. “This is his ship. It would feel wrong.”

“If you were worried about how it would make you feel, you could have accepted and then given the stateroom to me,” Will said flatly.

“Or we could’ve simply purchased passage aboard something bigger,” Horatio interjected. “A proper transport vessel.”

Rhea glanced at the faceless robot. Its gray and yellow body was all polycarbonate cylinders and servomotors, while its face was an oval with a grey visor and a grill in place of where a human’s eyes and mouth would reside. On the robot’s head, two insect-like antennae pointed in opposite directions.

“We have no money,” Rhea told the robot.

Horatio shrugged. “You could have issued a call for donations. Even if you posted to SubverseTube, you have more than enough followers to rebroadcast your message. It would have spread like wildfire, even to the sites you’re banned from. You would have received more than enough to cover the trip.”

“Why waste perfectly good credits when we had someone offer for free?” Rhea told him. “Especially considering I’m going to Ganymede mostly on a whim.”

Will shook his head and gently kicked off from another crate. “We won’t be able to get through to her on this Horatio.”

“Can you stop floating around like that?” Rhea told the salvager. “It’s distracting.”

Will glanced at her and chuckled. He purposely shoved off from several more crates, zigzagging back and forth above, which only further irked her. She looked away.

“Happy now?” Will asked from above.

She glanced up. Will had pulled himself into the sleeping bag he’d secured to the overhead.

She nodded curtly, then couldn’t help but smile. She couldn’t be cross, at least for long. Not now.

“What’s so amusing?” Will asked.

“That you’re sleeping bag is attached to the roof, maybe?” Rhea replied.

Will shrugged. “That’s what happens when you hitch a ride aboard a spaceship, especially one with less room than a tuna can.”

Her smile deepened. “A spaceship. Can’t believe I’m actually here. Going to Ganymede.”

“You make it sound like it’s been a lifelong dream,” Will said. “When you only learned you were from there a short while ago. Like you said, this was a whim.”

“Yes,” she said. “It was. But I’m from there. It’s my home.”

“Yeah, well, I guess we’ll see what you think when we actually get there,” Will said. “You’ve seen the videos, right?”

“I know what to expect, yes,” she said guardedly.

“Okay, just checking,” he told her.

“I wonder what the Europans will think,” Horatio said.

“What do you mean?” Rhea asked.

“You’re the last Ganymedean left alive,” Horatio clarified. “They haven’t met one in thirty years.”

“I’m sure there are others,” Rhea said. “Hidden away on Europa itself, or other moons. They just haven’t made themselves known yet.”

“I already told you when we first met…” Will began. “The Ganymedeans are extinct. Half the population of Earth died in the disaster Ganymede caused: the Great Calming. The survivors wanted vengeance, yes, but they also wanted to ensure nothing like the Calming ever happened again. Everyone lost someone they knew when the Calming hit. Friends, relatives, entire branches of families. The people of Earth heartily supported the military slaughter. Sure, there were some who protested the war, but they were few and far between. You might be surprised at how thorough a military can be when it’s fully supported by its people and government. Though much of the technology of Ganymede was superior to our own, we still won in the end because of our sheer determination and our rage over what they had done.”

Rhea was quiet for a moment. “If I survived, there have to be others,” she finally insisted.

“You were an exception,” Will said. “Don’t you understand that?”

Rhea crossed her arms. “The mayor said he heard rumors Khrusos kept Ganymedean prisoners for personal entertainment.”

“If he did, I doubt they survived as long as you did,” Will said. “Considering, when we found you, you weren’t in the most pristine of conditions.”

“No,” Rhea admitted. Her eyes defocused. “I wonder what happened to me…”

Her eyes drifted to the painting that hung from one wall. It was one of two virtual decorations she had applied to the cargo hold, for her eyes only. Created by a fan, it showed her perched atop a stack of dead Hydras, amid the flattened lean-tos and crushed cargo containers of Rust Town in the aftermath of the bioweapon attack. Her painted representation pointed the sparking blade of the X2-59 toward the walls of Aradne in defiance.

It reminded her of what she was capable of when she really put her mind to it. She had rallied an entire city to defend against the bioweapons sent to kill them all. She’d become their “Warden” in the process.

The second augmentation was a window. Beyond it resided a beach lit by a perpetual sunset. Originally mottled clouds had streaked the horizon, but she’d replaced the sky entirely, substituting the stars just as they would appear from the surface of Ganymede. Jupiter’s ball floated in the sky, the great storm of its red spot seeming so calm when viewed from afar. The sun’s rays still cast the water and sand in lovely shades: the waves were probably too small, considering the tidal forces Jupiter would evoke, but she liked the scene as it was. Near the horizon, she could see the outline of the geodesic dome that enveloped everything, and beyond it, the icy crust of Ganymede’s surface.

Of course, when she arrived, she would find nothing like this. The Ganymede that once was, the Ganymede from the historical videos, was no more.

Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if she could rebuild it and restore Ganymede to its former glory. There had to be others like her, scattered throughout the solar system, former citizens of Ganymede who had escaped the persecution. Will was wrong.

She also wondered if her people could have a home once more. If she put her mind to it…

“Why do you keep looking at that wall?” Will said, snapping her out of her trance. “Care to share your augmented reality overlays with us?”

Rhea shook her head and looked down.

After a moment, Will added: “You know, it’s probably a good thing you didn’t tell any of your Wardenites the real reason you were going to Ganymede. If they knew their precious Warden was a member of the hated people who destroyed half of Earth….”

She cringed at those words. She hated that notion. Hated it to the core.

“You’re assuming Miles and Brinks held their tongues,” Horatio said.

“They wouldn’t tell anyone,” Rhea said.

Will glanced at her. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because they were loyal,” Rhea stated.

Will tapped his chin. “Even if they did spill the news, it probably wouldn’t change anything. The Wardenites are devoted to you with a capital D.”

“Not all of them,” Rhea said. “News would leak, and once it got out onto the Net, it’d spread like wildfire: the much-vaunted Warden is a murderous Ganymedean, one of those responsible for killing half of Earth.”

“Except you weren’t responsible, and you know it,” Will said.

She was about to agree, and a part of her wanted to, but another part buried its head in shame.

“How do you know?” Rhea finally said. “In my memories, the few I have, I’m some kind of elite, crack warrior. Maybe I was one of those sent to Earth to set in motion the Great Calming. Maybe I even planted some of the hidden warheads responsible for destroying entire cities.”

“I doubt it,” Will said.

Rhea gazed at her cyborg hands. She wasn’t so sure.

These fingers could have been responsible for the deaths of billions.

She looked at the heroic virtual painting once more and, overcome by a surge of self-disgust, she deactivated the overlay.

“I bet Khrusos knows,” she said finally. “I’m going to have to see him, one day.”

“If you think your visit with the mayor was eventful,” Horatio said. “You can imagine how much more… lively… your social call with the President of the United Settlements will be.”

“He’ll see me without issue,” Rhea said. “He knows me. I sat at his table.”

Will laughed. “Sometimes, Dude, you’re so naive. He’ll arrest you on sight. He has to. Peace was never declared with Ganymede. As far as he’s concerned, we’re still at war and you’re an enemy. He’ll definitely make you a prisoner. You avoided being chipped once, you really think you’ll avoid it again? That’s what probably happened to you, you know. You weren’t a guest at the president’s table, like the mayor told you. You were his slave.”

“If that’s true, then he will pay,” Rhea said. “And he won’t succeed in chipping me again.”

Will chuckled. “Okay. Keep believing that. Sure, you have some skills, but also, you’ve been lucky a lot of the time. You have to admit that.”

She frowned at him. “You were the one encouraging me to visit Khrusos before we left…”

“I didn’t say that in as many words…” Will said.

Her voice became stern. “Yes, but you implied it.”

“Yeah, that was a mistake,” Will said. “I realize that now. Should have kept my big mouth shut. I only brought up Khrusos at the time because I wanted to stop you from coming to Ganymede. But it’s a bit too late for that now, isn’t it?”

The door to the cargo bay slid open, and a man with a generous girth jetted inside. It was Targon, the trader. He originally hailed from Mars but called interplanetary space his home. He dressed in long, flowing silk robes; a brown belt tightly clasped his waist, and some of his ample girth tumbled over it, partially concealing the gold buckle. He wore a jetpack, which constantly vented stabilizing propellant to keep him from drifting into any of the crates. That jetpack probably contributed to his size, because it meant the man scarcely did any exercise. Then again, living in the weightlessness of space wasn’t all that conducive to exercise in the first place.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Targon smiled down at her.

Rhea sat up and gave the merchant a forced smile. “Oh, hey.”

“How is the Ol’ Molly Dook treating ye?” Targon pressed. That was the name of his ship.

“She’s treating us well,” Rhea said.

Targon beamed. “Still can’t believe I’m carrying the famous Warden of Rust Town in me hold! It’s like the pixie dust of the faeries has been sprinkled into ma eyes, every time I look at ye!”

Rhea gave Will an uncomfortable glance. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“Don’t ye be worryin’ lass, it’s a compliment for sure,” Targon said. “So how is me favorite passenger doing today then? The quarters too tight for ye? Want to swap with me stateroom?”

“Keeping in mind that what he calls a stateroom is about half the size of this bay,” Horatio said.

“Certainly, but there are no crates me boy!” Targon shot back at the robot.

“It’s okay,” Rhea said. “I don’t want to bother you. I’m happy—”

“No, no, no,” Targon said. “It’s no bother at all. Come on then, lassy, to the stateroom with ye.”

He jetted forward and reached down to grab her arm, but Rhea slid to the side. “Please, I insist. I like it here. With my friends.”

Targon sighed. “Friends. All about the friends, is it? And I’m not a friend? The man who’s giving you a free lugging to Ganymede? All right. But let it not be said that Targon did not offer the Warden his stateroom!”

“It won’t be said,” Rhea assured him. “I mean, it will be said.” She paused in confusion. “Never mind.”

“So then, ye know we still got about two weeks to go, right?” Targon asked. “I figured to best pass the time, we shall play virtual cards!”

“I’ll pass,” Will said. “I hate cards.”

“Cards are not to my liking,” Horatio agreed.

Targon glanced hopefully at Rhea.

“Sorry, big guy,” she said.

Targon slumped. “Very well. It’s been so long since I’ve had me some passengers. I mean real passengers, not the virtual, simulated kind. I sometimes conjure them to entertain me-self, you see. So I’m not quite certain how to entertain the real deal.”

“You don’t have to,” Rhea said.

“I definitely agree,” Will said. “Feel free to hang out on the bridge, or your stateroom, or wherever it is you ordinarily pass the time between planets.”

“That would be in virtual reality,” Targon said. “It’s the best way to kill a few days when the ship’s journeying between planets. Come on, ye all might as well join me. We don’t have to play cards, that was just something I thought ye Rust Towners would like. Speaking of Rust Town, might I suggest a virtual recreation of the Battle of Rust Town? Someone uploaded a new Battle Engine mod the other day, based on the footage of our famous Warden fighting the Hydras. I downloaded it before I left Earth. It’s even more realistic than ever before!”

“I’d rather not relive that event, thank you,” Rhea said.

“Nor I,” Horatio said.

“Fine, fine, we can play Robot Wars if ye insist then,” Targon said. “I know it’s what ye really want, seeing as I was once a world champion player. Ye want to learn from me, which is understandable. I’m happy to teach ye, and once ye get good, Bob’s your uncle.”

“No games,” Rhea said. “Seriously.”

“All right, all right,” Targon said. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“By the way Trader, I got a question,” Will said. “How close are we going to pass to Jupiter? I’ve heard the radiation isn’t… well, very nice.”

Targon snorted. “Oh no, it isn’t very nice indeed. We’re going to give Jupiter a wide berth—the radiation is one concern, me friend, but the bigger concern is the gravity. It can be hard on me engines, but lucky for us, Ganymede will be on the far side when we arrive.”

“You can use the gravity as a slingshot,” Horatio said.

“Oh, me fine-feathered robot, I intend to!” Targon told Horatio. “But, sadly, we will be needing a lot of delta-v to escape this handy slingshot, so once we’re past Jupiter it’s going to take another few days to reach Ganymede. We’ll be exposed to quite a bit of radiation during that time, as one of ye mentioned, I can’t remember who… oh yes, the dirty-haired one.”

“Who’s the ‘dirty-haired’ one?” Will asked.

“That’s you,” Rhea said.

“Hey, I wash my dreadlocks every day…” Will said. “Sort of.”

“Of course ye do,” Targon said. “Especially when there’s a water ration aboard! Wastin’ it, are ye?”

Will glared at the man.

“Where was I?” Targon asked. “Oh yes. The radiation. The armored hull will absorb most of it.”

Targon had explained a little bit about how that armor worked. It was augmented by their trash, which was processed into plastic-filled tiles that would be removed when they reached spaceport. The water required for the crew was also stored strategically about the hull, creating an extra layer of radiation protection beneath the armor. That water was recycled and replaced as they used it.

“Even so,” Targon continued. “The radiation will get fairly strong when we’re at the closest approach to Jupiter. Don’t worry, they’ll give you rad therapy when you arrive at Centaar.” That was the Europan base on Ganymede where Rhea was headed.

“Are you sure I’ll need rad therapy?” Rhea asked. “Considering my makeup…”

Targon rubbed his upper lip. “Mmm. Maybe not ye, me Miss Warden, seeing as ye are a cyborg and all. But him, he’ll definitely need a patch.” The merchant nodded at Will. “Plus a good hair washing.”

Will growled softly. Then: “What about you? You’re human… radiation doesn’t affect you?”

The trader pulled up his sleeve to reveal a white square attached to his bicep. “Got meself an anti-rad patch. Anyhoo, I guess I’ll leave ye to your cogitations. Please, though, join me in a virtual gaming session later. Robot Wars. Or… ye pick the poison.”

“We will,” Rhea promised, though she had no intention of doing so.

With that, Targon bowed and jetted out.

2

The days passed at a crawl. Targon continued to visit at least twice a day, and always nagged Rhea and the others to join him in VR. “It would be an honor to play with the great Warden.”

Finally, Rhea reluctantly agreed to a VR roleplaying session with Targon. Will and Horatio joined in. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, so much so that in subsequent days she actively messaged Targon to begin the day’s session. It did help pass the time.

A week into the journey found her seated inside the cockpit of a mech. She was actually sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag in the cargo bay, with a strap folded over her thighs to secure her to the deck, but her mind couldn’t tell the difference. The controls in her hands felt real, courtesy of the direct feedback her mind-machine interface relayed to her brain, even if those controls didn’t exist in the real world.

The game was called Robot Wars. It was an offline copy of a massive online RPG. Players on Earth and other planets could participate in local planetary copies in realtime, potentially interacting with millions of other players. But since she was in deep space, where Delay-tolerant networking was prevalent, online realtime play was impossible.

Will and Horatio were on her team. The three of them scouted a mountain pass, searching for Targon, who was the sole opponent on the opposing team. One might think that three against one wasn’t exactly fair, but the merchant was exceptionally good at this particular game, and Rhea and her friends would be lucky to come out on top.

Apparently Targon had been a world class player at one point, attracting hundreds of thousands of daily views on the streaming channels, but when the gamers moved on to the latest and greatest release, his following reduced to a trickle. Targon tried to switch to other, more popular games, but he could never really get into them. His income plunged, and he was forced to find a real job. He used the money he’d earned to place a down payment on a cargo hauler, and the rest, as he said, was history.

Horatio brought up the rear in that pass, while Will held the lead. He’d jetted up to the top of the rightmost cliff and kept an eye on the surrounding terrain as the team advanced.

“I think we’re going to have to try a different game after this,” Will said. “I’m getting sick of this dude beating us. Plus, if he calls me Dirty Hairy one more time, I think I’m going to explode.”

“Well, at least now we understand why he wanted to play the Warden so badly,” Horatio said.

“Why’s that?” Rhea asked.

“To show off, of course,” Horatio said.

“I don’t mind actually,” Rhea said. “Losing, I mean. It just makes me want to keep playing, if only to find a way to beat him and rub his face in his mech.”

“Tell me about it,” Will said. “But I gave up any hope of ever defeating this dude days ago.”

Will’s mech exploded.

“See what I mean?” Will replied. “He said he was going to go easy on us. Does this look easy? I’m already out.”

Rhea rotated nervously, scanning the upper passes. She retreated behind a boulder and waited. Nothing happened.

“Horatio, take cover,” she sent.

“Already one step ahead of you,” he replied.

She glanced at her overhead map. The robot was indeed lurking in a small hollow not far behind her.

She peered passed the edges of the boulder and scanned the pass, looking for signs of Targon’s mech, but saw nothing.

“This game really needs proper scouting units,” Rhea said.

“Too bad I can’t take Gizmo into the game with me,” Will agreed.

Rhea decided to try a different tactic this time. She ejected, and clambered out onto the hull of her mech, then leaped down.

“What are you doing?” Horatio asked. “You’re exposing yourself.”

“Just a little experiment,” Rhea said.

She switched to remote control of her mech and sent it forward.

Missiles erupted from the top of the pass to her left, spiraling down toward her mech.

“Bingo. Horatio, distract him.” She activated the jetpack unit the game provided her and swooped upward, staying as close to the rocky surface beside her as possible. The hope was to avoid detection by Targon.

Horatio was unleashing several missiles of his own, launching them toward the top of the pass where Targon had struck.

Explosions filled the air above, and a cloud of dust arose. As Rhea got closer, Horatio ceased firing. Rhea entered the dust and landed.

She didn’t activate LIDAR or other active sensing protocols. Instead, she used the dust as a cloak.

She heard the crunch of heavy mech feet to her right.

Crouching, she quietly darted forward until she emerged from the dust.

Targon’s mech was crouched behind a tall rock; its back was to her.

Smiling, Rhea highlighted Targon’s position for Horatio.

“What?” Targon spun around.

Those shoulder-mounted turrets trained on her, but an instant later Horatio’s missiles slammed into the mech, destroying it.

“Well done, Warden!” Targon transmitted. “I was wondering when you’d get the best of me! Let’s reset!”

“No, I think that’s enough for the day,” Rhea said.

“What, ye can’t leave me hanging like this!” Targon said. “Ye got lucky! I was going easy on ye! I’ll show ye, yet!”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Rhea said. “You want to prove you’re the best, which you are. We’ll probably never beat you again. But honestly, I want to quit on a high today. Grant me that, my friend.”

Targon sighed. “Very well. We can play on the same team then for the rest of today. I’ll load some AIs into the enemy slots, and Bob’s your uncle.”

An alarm sounded.

The VR environment winked out and Rhea was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag once more.

“What’s going on?” Will asked from where he was similarly secured to the overhead.

“Dunno.” She switched to the shipboard comm band. “Targon, talk to me.”

Targon didn’t answer.

As the alarm bayed on, Rhea gave Will a nervous glance, then she slid from the strap that secured her to the deck and shoved off toward the entrance to the cargo bay. She reached the sealed hatch and wrapped her hands around the locking wheel. Her feet landed on the metal surface a moment later, and she turned the wheel. When the locking mechanism retracted, she pulled the door open, then swiveled her body around so that her feet rested on a nearby crate, then shoved off again.

Will and Horatio followed her, floating into the passage outside.

The alarm continued sounding.

Rhea grabbed the rungs on the bulkhead beside her and used them to thrust herself forward along the surface. She reached the door to the bridge and similarly opened the hatch to pull herself inside.

It was more a cockpit than a bridge, considering how cramped it was, with just a small seat before a solid metal wall. The merchant pilot was strapped into that seat.

Rhea squeezed in behind the chair.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Will and Horatio squeezed in behind her.

Targon glanced askance. “Shut the hatch.” He returned his attention to the fore, toward some view screen she could not see, even though she had augmented reality overlays enabled on her HUD—the merchant hadn’t given her the access rights she needed to view it.

Horatio obediently closed the hatch, and Rhea felt Will shove against her from behind. His smell enveloped her. If she were human, perhaps she would have found his touch and smell arousing. As it was, since she had no genital attachments, and the backend algorithms to support them were disabled in her mind-machine interface, to her cyborg senses he simply smelled… unwashed; and the press of his body against hers was uncomfortable more than anything else.

“Targon?” she repeated.

“We’re under attack!” Targon said.

Will glanced upward. “Attack? I feel nothing.”

“That’s because I’m taking evasive action!” Targon spat.

Inertial dampers would prevent their bodies from being wiped against the bulkheads during any high-speed directional changes.

“I’m doing me best to avoid letting any of them touch us!” Targon continued.

“Any of what?” Will asked.

“Kinetic kills,” Targon replied. “Objects launched by railguns, or similar. Because of their kinetic energy, or high speed, if one of them hits, it’ll tear right through our hull. Warden, I suggest ye and your companions get suited up.”

“What about you?” Rhea asked.

“Can’t leave me controls,” Targon said. “Besides, if I lose me ship, I’m dead anyway. I’ll never be able to repay the bank: insurance company doesn’t cover pirate attacks. Now go!”

Reluctantly, Rhea left the bridge with Will.

Horatio didn’t join them.

“Not sure why I should bother,” the robot said.

Rhea floated to the storage closet where she and the others had stowed the spacesuits they carried aboard. Those suits were rentals: they’d be returned at the closest spaceport—in this case, Ganymede—and then steam-cleaned before being added to the local inventory, ready to rent out to the next travelers.

She shrugged into the bulky suit and sealed the faceplate, activating the pressurized environment. Though the suit was obviously heavy, it didn’t weigh her down thanks to the zero G environment.

Will similarly finished suiting up.

“I always feel like one of those nested Russian dolls or something, when I slip into a spacesuit,” Will transmitted.

“A matryoshka?” Rhea asked over the comm.

“Someone’s been checking their database…” Will said.

Rhea ordinarily would have had something witty to say in return, but she was too distracted at the moment.

Together the two of them returned to the bridge. There wasn’t enough room now to close the hatch behind them, not while they wore those unwieldy suits. There was probably some protocol they violated by leaving it open, but Targon didn’t say anything. If they were hit by a kinetic kill, it probably wouldn’t matter if the bridge was sealed off or not—the ship was likely too small to survive. That was her takeaway on Targon’s silence, anyway.

“Any news?” Rhea asked over the comm system.

“They’ve let up,” Targon said. “Our opponents weren’t expecting me ship to be so maneuverable. I’m glad I upgraded the engines of me baby a few weeks ago. If I hadn’t, the attack would have killed us.”

“Are we able to pinpoint the source?” Rhea asked.

“No,” Targon said. “Whoever it is, they’re keeping well back. Gotta be pirates. There’s been an uptick in piracy in recent years. Has to do with ship prices… as they’ve gone down and become more affordable to the masses, piracy has gone up. Why do ye think I updated me engines?”

“If it was pirates, wouldn’t they have tried to capture you for boarding?” Rhea asked.

“Not necessarily,” Targon said. “Some pirates prefer to disable the ships with kinetic kills. Then they can salvage the metal, and whatever cargo survived the impact. They don’t have to deal with any potential crew that way, either. Though admittedly, most transport ships are unmanned these days, so there usually isn’t a crew. I’m one of the few fools who insists on babysitting his investment as it travels between planets. Honestly, I can’t understand why other owners would leave their precious ships under the control of AIs. For something that costs this much, I’m not going to dare let it out of me sight!”

“There are sometimes automated defense systems aboard AI-driven ships,” Horatio said.

“Another reason pirates like to shoot first!” Targon said. “Shipboard defenses go offline when the merchant is torn apart!”

“So, even if this pursuer of ours is keeping well back, shouldn’t we be detecting his thermal signature?” Will asked over the comm.

“In theory,” Targon agreed. “But I’ve heard of pirates using masking tech. It helps that the bastards keep their ship profiles nice and small, housing one or two passengers at most. Many pirate vessels are automated, too, by the way: so we might be pursued by a wee robot, not a man.”

“But even a small, unmanned vessel produces heat,” Will said.

“Yea, but if it’s distant enough, and vents heat properly— as in away from us—it can remain invisible, revealing its position only when it opens fire,” Targon said. “Because of the latter, I have a general idea of where the vessel is, but there’s nothing I can do about it, since me craft has no weapons.”

“Then we keep flying,” Rhea said.

“By the way, why did our attacker use railguns?” Will said. “Wouldn’t lasers work better? More instantaneous and all that.”

“Perhaps,” Targon said. “But keep in mind that in order for a ship to mask itself like our pursuer, it would have to be very, very small. Too tiny to carry a laser. In fact, the entire vessel could probably fit inside the typical laser focusing array found aboard a warship.”

“That would explain it,” Will agreed.

Rhea turned toward the merchant. “Can I take off this bulky suit now?”

“Up to ye,” Targon said. “If it was me, I’d wait a few hours to ensure our trigger-happy pirate friend doesn’t make another attempt. Though I suspect he won’t be wasting ammo again until he can assure a guaranteed shot.”

“And when will he have a guaranteed shot?” Will asked.

“Well, it won’t be guaranteed, but when we’re slingshotting around Jupiter, that would be the best time to try again, assuming this pirate follows us all the way to Great Planet, which is doubtful,” Targon said. “See, while slingshotting, it will be difficult to move out of the way in time. Me hull will have too many forces acting upon it…”

“Let’s hope the pirate doesn’t pursue,” Rhea agreed.

She turned around and floated back to the cargo hold with Will and Horatio. She left the suit on, for now, and strapped herself in above her sleeping bag. She had to loosen the straps to fit over the tighter thighs of her space suit.

“So, what do you think?” Will asked. “Is it really pirates? Or one of your assassins? When you left earth, it wasn’t exactly a secret…”

Rhea nodded, remembering the crowd of well-wishers who had waited to send her off. “Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have been so open about my plans.”

“If someone wanted to follow you, it wouldn’t have mattered whether you revealed your plans or not,” Horatio said.

“No, I suppose not,” Rhea agreed. Technology made it all too easy to keep tabs on a target that didn’t want to be tracked.

“I tried telling you this would happen,” Will said. “But you wouldn’t listen.”

“She wouldn’t have been any better off on Earth,” Horatio said. “Struck by a stray bullet or laser in a crowd, versus getting hit by a railgun in space? There isn’t much difference. Except the latter case turned out to be the better scenario. At least she had a chance of survival. But hit by a sniper in a crowd? No chance. Yes, I believe she made the right choice… living her life on her own terms, rather than sitting still, too afraid to leave her house because she feared assassination.”

Rhea glanced at Horatio and nodded in thanks. “At least I have someone on my side.”

“I’ll always be on your side,” Horatio said.

“Suck up,” Will said.

Rhea scowled at Will and gave Horatio a grateful smile. Then she sighed. “What kind of assassin leaves Earth to hunt its prey?”

“You might be surprised at the resourcefulness of assassins and bounty hunters,” Will said. “Especially when the bounty is high. Some assassins certainly have their own ships.” He shrugged. “Lets them hunt targets systemwide. Besides, interplanetary space is a great hunting ground: the rule of law doesn’t apply.”

She shook her head behind the faceplate. “I should have tracked down Veil before leaving.”

“Maybe,” Will said. “But that could have taken you months, even years.”

“Or sooner,” Rhea said. “If I’d let his assassins come to me.”

“Well, if this really is one of your assassins, most likely he’s tailing you now,” Will commented. “So you’ll get your wish soon enough. Though when he ‘comes to you,’ as you say, it probably won’t be in person…”

“You think he’ll strike again?” Rhea asked. “When we’re slingshotting?”

“If not then,” Will said. “Then when we reach Centaar.”

“I’m not looking forward to it,” Rhea said.

“None of us are,” Will agreed.

3

The Molly Dook was harassed no further during the journey, and they entered into their slingshot trajectory above Jupiter without issue. They had all donned their spacesuits as they entered the stronger portions of Jupiter’s rad field, as they wanted the added protection the material provided: the suits were composed of BNNTS—hydrogenated Boron Nitride NanoTubeS. Made of carbon, boron, and nitrogen, hydrogen was interspersed throughout the empty spaces between tubes. Because protons and neutrons were similar in size, hydrogen blocked both extremely well, and boron was an excellent absorber of any secondary neutrons that got through.

Thanks to the armored hull of their craft, the dosage they received as they passed across Jupiter was only equivalent to the background cosmic rays they might get while on a spacewalk. However, considering the limited protection the suits provided, it was only recommended that one expose oneself to such background radiation for a few hours—but Rhea and her companions were subjected to the rays for days as they passed across Jupiter. Even Horatio wore a suit, because those high energy particles could damage delicate machine circuitry as well.

Horatio was the only one who had disabled his O2 flow. Rhea and Will needed oxygen of course, and they occasionally had to maneuver to the craft’s engine compartment to refill their units at the main tanks.

“I feel like I’m melting in here,” Will said at one point.

“That’s just sweat,” Rhea said. “Might want to turn down the heat of your inner environment.”

“It’s not sweat,” Will said. “I’m really melting.”

“Cosmic rays cause neural damage,” Horatio said. “Perhaps the part of your brain responsible for the identification of your physical form has been injured, and you merely believe yourself to be liquifying.”

“Thanks for cheering me up, Tin Can,” Will quipped. He shifted where he was strapped in place to the overhead above. “I’m just sick of being cooped up, I think. Got cabin fever to the extreme. Doesn’t help that I’m a bit claustrophobic… you’re throwing me into a tight spacesuit, inside a tiny cabin, aboard a cramped ship.”

“Well, if it helps, there’s only a six-meter wall between you and the void of space,” Rhea said.

“Doesn’t help,” Will said. “At all.”

The deck thrummed softly as the spacecraft no doubt underwent one of its latest course adjustments. It also emitted a gentle moan, which she heard courtesy of the external microphones of her suit. Considering all the different forces the craft was currently being subjected to, Rhea wasn’t surprised the metal would complain thus.

“I hate it when the ship shakes like that,” Will said. “Makes me feel like we’re going to be ripped apart.”

“She’ll hold up,” Rhea said. “The Molly Dook is a good ship.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Will said. “I mean come on, it’s called the Molly Dook. That name doesn’t evoke the strong hull you’d associate with an Intrepid or Challenger.”

“For me,” Horatio said, “when I feel the hull shake, I always wonder if we’re under attack. But then I remind myself that if we were under attack, I wouldn’t feel a thing. None of us would. One moment we’d be alive inside this cargo hold, and the next our constituent parts would be floating aimlessly through the void of space, alongside the wreckage of the Molly Dook.”

They tried to play the usual VR games while passing over Jupiter. However, they all did poorly, even Targon: they were simply too distracted. Especially considering that the hull vibrations could be felt in the VR environment. Even so, they forced themselves to continue gaming, as some distraction was better than none at all.

Finally, Jupiter was well behind them, and Ganymede lay ahead. The hull stopped creaking, and the radiation levels dropped somewhat.

Will immediately opened his face plate. “Well, that’s a bit better. Slightly less stuffy. Though not by much.”

“What did you expect?” Rhea said, likewise opening her helmet. “You’ve gone from breathing the stale, recycled air of a spacesuit, to the stale, recycled air of a star craft. Not much difference there.”

“No, I suppose not,” Will agreed.

A few minutes later, Targon announced they were on final approach to Ganymede

“Still no sign of our trigger-happy friends,” Will said afterward. “Maybe it was pirates after all. They retreated to hunt easier prey after we dodged their railgun attack. After all, who’d want to follow someone into the hellish trajectory of a gas giant?”

Rhea nodded absently.

“You don’t really believe it, do you?” Will pressed. Softer, as if to himself: “Of course not. I don’t believe it.”

“If an assassin pursues, he won’t give up so easily,” Horatio agreed. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much we can do about it until he makes an appearance.”

“Well, either way, we’re almost there,” Will said. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Targon jetted into the cargo bay. He was wearing a spacesuit just like the others, but unlike them, his visor was currently sealed. His jetpack was strapped on to the upper back.

“Well, I did it.” Targon’s voice carried over the comm line. “Carried the Warden successfully to Ganymede, I did. We’ll be landing shortly.”

“Thank you,” Rhea said. “I truly appreciate this. Without you, I’d still be stuck on Earth.”

“That might have been for the best, considering what you’ll find here,” Targon said.

“And what is it you think I’ll find?” Rhea pressed.

In answer, Targon merely turned about and started to jet from the cargo bay. He paused to glance over his shoulder at her. “I’ll be back this way in a few weeks if you need a ride. I can’t really afford to expend the propellant to retrieve ye, but I’ll do it anyway out of the kindness of me heart.”

“That’s nice of you,” Rhea said. “To be honest, though, I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on the offer. I might want to stay longer than a few weeks.”

“Well, message me if you need me,” Targon said.

“I will,” she promised.

“Make sure you send the message before the twentieth,” Targon said. “After that, I’ll be well beyond Jupiter and on me way to Earth—me propellant levels will be far too low to turn back at that point.”

She nodded, making a mental note to send any message before the twentieth. If possible, it would be best to transmit well before that date: while it would only take a few hours to deliver her message via the Delay-tolerant network that spanned the planets, it was possible the emissions from Jupiter would interfere. She’d read that the radiation occasionally spiked, causing “storms” that lasted for days and which blacked out all communications across the Galilean moons. Hence, if she wanted to go, the sooner she could get in touch with Targon, the better.

Assuming I want to leave Ganymede.

Maybe she’d fall in love with the place. She couldn’t say, not yet.

“I don’t suppose we can remove these spacesuits?” Will transmitted.

Targon had already disappeared around the bend, but he peeked back inside at those words. “No, no, no, me boy. It’s standard protocol. They won’t let ye dock if you’re not suited up. I’ll be providing video evidence. Speaking of which, you’ll need to seal your faceplates. Go on now.”

“Video evidence can be faked…” Will said, but he closed his helmet.

Rhea sealed her own, as did Horatio.

Satisfied, Targon nodded to himself and then vanished from view around the bend.

“All these protocols for us to follow…” Will said.

“I’m sure they’ve instituted them for a reason.” Rhea glanced at the robot. “Even Horatio could be fined if he emerges from the ship without a sealed suit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Will said. “As little sense as that makes.”

“Apparently, it’s part of the decon procedure,” Rhea said. “They’ll scan us for contagions when we enter. And if any are detected, they’ll whisk us off to isolation. Robots included.”

“Sounds like fun,” Will said. “Though if you ask me, it’s a system ripe for abuse. They can pretend we’ve set off some contagion alarm and use that as an excuse to confine us indefinitely. If, for example, the United Settlements decided to radio Centaar, and tell them that it would be politically expedient to confine the Warden, for example…”

“Except the Europans have nothing to gain by confining me,” Rhea said. “And neither does the United Settlements. In fact, if United Settlements wanted me confined, they would have done so already, before I left Aradne in a shuttle bound for space.”

“Yes, but what better place to confine you, than far away from your own followers?” Will said. “Out here, there are no Wardenites to set you free. In fact, I doubt anyone even knows who you are here. The Europans have their own streaming video sites. Their own local heroes. No one watches VidTube or SubverseTube here—the videos take forever to download from Earth.”

“I have to agree with Rhea on this one,” Horatio said. “The United Settlements has nothing to gain by confining her. She was perhaps the enemy of Aradne for some time, but the mayor of said city certainly has no reason to confine her, not anymore. Not after she set him free of Veil.”

Targon interrupted their conversation with a transmission. “Warden, would ye and your fine companions like to view the external feed during our approach?”

“Yes, of course,” Rhea said.

She received a sharing request on her HUD and accepted. She enlarged the resultant video feed so that it filled her vision and redistributed it to Will and Horatio.

The moon swallowed the stars below them, forming a big, dirty ball of gray and black illuminated beneath the sun. She’d read all about it before leaving: the surface was composed of a mantle of frozen water covered in grooves and ridges and pocked with impact craters. Beneath the icy crust, which averaged one hundred kilometers deep, lay an internal ocean containing more water than all of Earth’s combined. It was this ocean that had driven Earth to war against the Ganymedeans thirty years ago.

At the bottom of the ocean resided trenches of silicate rock, similar to that found within Earth’s crust. Above the ice mantle, Ganymede had a paper-thin oxygen and hydrogen atmosphere.

Though it was the largest moon in the solar system, with a diameter of five thousand two hundred six kilometers, it was also one of the least dense, giving Ganymede a gravity of only 0.149 G, which was comparable to Earth’s moon.

Ganymede had a weak magnetic field that was overpowered by Jupiter’s much more powerful field. She could see a portion of the satellites composing the superconducting ring network that once augmented the moon’s meager magnetosphere. Built by the superior technology of the Ganymedeans, the ring network had obvious gaps, denoting where swaths of satellites had been destroyed during the war.

As the Molly Dook continued its descent, she spotted an opaque geodesic dome squatting on the surface below: the Europan colony of Centaar. Because the damaged ring network was no longer powerful enough to deflect all of Jupiter’s radiation, the dome had BNNTS embedded throughout, similar to the spacesuit she wore, though at a much higher density and thickness of course. As such, she couldn’t see inside.

The Europans had apparently attempted to repair the ring network by capturing and dismantling some of the satellites involved, but they had yet to reverse engineer the advanced technology involved.

As they got closer to the colony, Rhea kept expecting the alarm to sound, but it didn’t. She was beginning to believe the attack had been by pirates after all, who were now long gone.

In the distance to the south she could see one of the self-contained drilling platforms that were apparently common to this moon. Towering metal frameworks were attached to each of the four corners of the platform, and at the center was a boxlike building that harbored the drill, which the Europans used to extract water from the frozen crust below. There was a large landing pad next to the platform where water transports could land and fill up.

Rhea returned her attention to the colony ahead. The Molly Dook descended to the same altitude as the base of the dome—a large, metal ring that protruded slightly from the rest of the structure. As the ship approached, doors opened in the side of that ring, revealing a hangar beyond. The ship passed through, and as it touched down on what looked like a large conveyor belt inside, she felt the deck rumble gently.

Large squarish LEDs embedded in the ceiling provided light, illuminating the other shuttles and vessels perched on similar conveyor belts nearby. Behind the Molly Dook, the bay doors closed.

Rhea exhaled in relief and glanced at Will. “No attack.”

Will nodded, saying nothing.

“We’re here,” Targon announced over the comm. “The hangar bay will pressurize shortly, and then the conveyor belt will take us to customs.”

4

Rhea watched via the external camera as white mist erupted from vents that lined the lower portions of the hangar walls. That mist was no doubt part of the pressurization process Targon had mentioned. It took several minutes, but slowly that mist became more translucent, until she couldn’t see it at all.

After another five minutes, a smaller set of bay doors parted ahead of the craft, just big enough to fit the Molly Dook. The conveyor belt system activated and the Molly Dook lurched forward.

In moments the vessel passed through the smaller opening and into an adjacent hangar bay. Actually it was more of a corridor than a bay, coming in at far longer than it was wide or tall. The doors closed behind the Molly Dook as the vessel slid onto another conveyor belt that abutted the first.

At the far side of the corridor, another set of doors opened, and once more the Molly Dook switched to another conveyor belt. It passed through into a much smaller hangar bay, and when the doors closed behind it, the craft came to a halt.

Large robotic arms unfolded from the walls next to the shuttle, preparing to unload the cargo.

“You might want to vacate the hold,” Targon said over the comm. “The robots will be wanting to unload your belongings. I’ve already marked off the necessary crates on the manifest.”

The bulkhead shuddered as external hatches began to open.

Rhea removed the straps that secured her to the floor and stood up. Gravity glued her to the floor. She finally felt the weight of the suit, but it seemed light, little more than the weight of a heavy cloak on Earth. Which made sense, considering 0.149 G was almost one-seventh Earth’s gravity. She took a tentative step and was surprised at how far the motion carried her. After a few more she quickly adapted, bounding more than two paces for every ordinary step she might take on Earth, this despite the bulky suit she wore. She scraped the low overhead a few times with her helmet, and discovered it was better to lean in the direction she wanted to go, keeping her center of mass forward so that she wouldn’t arc too high. At the entrance, she had to pull herself through the tighter doorway.

Will and Horatio similarly adapted, and they joined her in the ship’s corridor. Behind her, in the cargo hold, the far bulkhead fell away. There was no atmospheric decompression—the external atmosphere matched the internal. The pincers of a big robotic arm reached inside and removed a crate.

That would be our belongings.

“We are to debark now,” Targon said over the comm.

He emerged from the bridge hatch, using that bounding walk Rhea had only just learned, and stood next to the bulkhead. The deck shuddered as a hatch slid down and formed a ramp to the floor outside.

Targon led the way with those big, bounding steps. Rhea followed, slowly stepping from the ship, hanging onto the railing as she descended. She considered using the lower gravity to jump down in a single leap but thought better of it lest she make a fool of herself—she still wasn’t completely comfortable in the lighter environment. Also, there was a chance potential assassins might use the moment of debarkation to strike, so that was another reason to take extra care. She warily surveyed her surroundings as she descended, however she saw only the empty corridor, and the Molly Dook.

Targon reached a walkway and vaulted into a small opening in the wall. Rhea followed, taking smaller, bouncing steps.

She found herself in a long corridor. A share request appeared on her HUD.

Centaar Customs, Ganymede, would like to open up a private channel. Do you accept? (Y/N)

She accepted.

“Please remain still,” a metallic voice intoned over the comm.

A conveyor belt activated beneath her, dragging her forward.

Different colored lamps flashed from the corridor walls around her, and Rhea was under the impression she was being scanned.

“Checking us for contagions,” Will transmitted. “Just watch, they’re going to say we’re infected with something and need to be transferred to isolation.”

As she neared the far side of the corridor, the voice over the comm told her: “You have been granted entry. You may open your helmet at your convenience.”

“Guess I was wrong,” Will said. “Happens, from time to time.”

Rhea opened the faceplate of her helmet and the internal life support system of the spacesuit instantly shut down. She took a deep breath. The air smelled… musty. Not as stale as the transport craft, but she could still tell it was recycled.

A pair of doors opened at the far side of the corridor, and Targon sprung through. Rhea stepped off the ramp and followed, taking a bounding leap. She emerged in some sort of receiving area that was part of a larger terminal. The ceiling here arched far overhead, providing ample room for the bounding steps supported by the lower gravity.

A long counter was set against the wall beside her. Two robots with plasma rifles embedded in their arms stood guard on the far end. Defense turrets also hung from the ceiling, ready to open fire if any of the new arrivals proved threats.

“Please approach the counter,” the metallic voice intoned.

Rhea removed her helmet, resting it between one gloved hand and her hip, and let her artificial hair hang down. Then she took three arcing steps to the counter.

“Please activate augmented reality overlays if you have not done so already,” the metallic voice said in her head.

She already had public overlays active, so when the hologram of the friendly customs official appeared before her, she saw the woman immediately. The hologram was positioned so that it appeared to be behind the counter in front of Rhea.

“Hello!” the holographic woman said. “And welcome to Centaar, a Europa colony! We hope you enjoy your stay. Please fill out the required customs form.”

“Funny how they call it a ‘Europa colony,’ when this is Ganymede!” Will quipped, coming up beside her.

Rhea received another share request and accepted. A digital file downloaded. When she opened it, she discovered the aforementioned form. Most of the details such as her age and name were hardcoded and could not be changed. The occupation field was blank, as was her reason for visiting the moon. She was also asked to declare all her belongings and their values.

She left the occupation blank, and for reason, she put: “sightseeing.” She filled out the belongings section, putting one credit for most of them. For the X2-59, she had no idea how much it retailed for, so she accessed the local Internet. A quick search returned no results: apparently the local government censored all weapon searches. She put fifty credits for the weapon, which seemed reasonable.

Then she submitted the form.

The women smiled stupidly, as if she was still waiting for something.

Rhea glanced at Targon, who stood just to her left.

“The customs official won’t allow us to proceed until everyone submits their forms,” Targon explained.

Rhea switched her gaze to Horatio and Will.

“Don’t look at me, I’m done,” Horatio said.

Will’s eyes were defocused. “I’m working on it.” Finally he met Rhea’s gaze. “Done.”

“Your weapons and drone will be held in the terminal for the duration of your stay,” the holographic woman said with a friendly smile. “They will be returned to you when you leave Centaar.”

Will shrugged. “That’s fine. We already knew your weapons policy.”

The customs hologram didn’t answer.

A robot emerged from a back hall. Its upper body was humanoid, its lower body a box mounted on treads. It carried the crate she had seen the bigger arms remove from the Molly Dook. When it reached the counter, the robot plopped the crate down.

Their weapons had been removed, as had Will’s drone, but everything else remained still intact.

Rhea reached into the crate and retrieved the small sack that belonged to her. It contained the clothing she’d brought along for the journey. As usual, she couldn’t help but wonder at how light the sack seemed: it was like she carried a bag full of paper.

Horatio and Will grabbed their salvagers’ backpacks—they never went anywhere without them apparently.

“You may change out of your spacesuits here,” the hologram said.

Several blue outlines flashed around a series of doors beside the counter, still within the area guarded by the robots.

“If your suits are rentals, please deposit them into the litter for repurposing,” the hologram added.

Rhea, Horatio and Will entered different change rooms. Rhea shut the door behind her. There was a box labeled “suit repurposing” sitting on the floor next to a bench. She stripped off the suit and dropped the different assemblies into the waiting box. She hopped on one foot as she removed the lower assembly, and nearly leaped into the ceiling as she did so.

Mind the lower gravity, Rhea…

She was still wearing her flight outfit beneath the suit, but she took off that too, momentarily revealing her metallic body. She opted for some fresh clothing from her sack of belongings, and then emerged.

Will and Horatio were already waiting. As was Targon, though his spacesuit remained on his body.

Targon shook her hand with his gloved version. “Good luck, my young Warden. I hope ye find whatever it is you’re looking for here.”

“Thank you,” Rhea told him. “I hope I do, too. I won’t forget this.”

“Remember me offer,” Targon said. “I’ll fly ye back, if ye need.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rhea said.

Targon turned from her to pat Will on the shoulder. “And wash that hair!”

Will merely scowled at the man.

Targon gave her a wink, then he retreated. He bounced through another entrance that was still inside customs and vanished from view.

“Our scans detected mild radiation poisoning in the ones named Rhea and Will,” the holographic woman said. “Please wait for treatment.”

A few uneventful moments ticked passed.

“How long do you think they’re going to make us wait?” Will asked.

Just as the words left his mouth, a sliding door shoved open and a medical robot approached—essentially an injector on wheels. The trolley stopped next to Rhea, and one of the telescoping limbs came forward.

“Please turn around,” the robot intoned.

Rhea did so, and she lifted her hair with both hands to reveal the quick injection port at the back of her head. The injector made contact, and she felt the surge as a stream of liquid traveled into her brain case. It disconnected a moment later, and she lowered her arms. She felt no different.

Will received an injection as well, but the robot also wrapped a patch around his bicep.

“Wear this for three days,” the robot instructed him.

“You got it, Machine Man,” Will told the robot.

“You are free to go,” the holographic woman announced cheerfully.

“Wait,” Rhea said.

The woman stared at her, smiling expectantly.

“Am I correct in assuming you’re part of the central AI that runs this colony?” Rhea asked.

“That would be correct,” the woman replied, still grinning.

“Could you personally notify me whenever a new ship arrives?” she said.

“There are sites available that list all flights between planets, along with their predicted arrival times, you know this, correct?” the woman said. “All vessels must publish their flight plans when leaving the orbit of any celestial body, as required by interplanetary law.”

“Yes, but this person would be unscheduled,” Rhea said. “And he’d come up with some sort of excuse as to why he deviated from his published flight plan. A fuel leak or something.”

The woman seemed to consider for a moment. Then: “Interesting. Yes, I can do that for you. Is there anyone in particular you are looking for?”

“No,” Rhea said. “I just want to be informed. It is public knowledge, is it not?”

“It certainly is,” the hologram agreed. “Though the passenger manifests are not.”

“I didn’t expect they would be,” Rhea said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the woman told her.

Rhea and her two companions bound-walked underneath one of the menacing-looking turrets that hung from the ceiling, passed the two guard robots, and entered the main terminal.

As she passed the robots, she lifted the hood of her cloak, hiding her face. She did it more out of habit than caution, though admittedly a part of her still worried that someone would try to assassinate her even here.

The area was empty save for loading robots, which carried crates and pallets across the floor toward different hatches in the wall. She supposed the robots had pre-cleared customs, because they skipped the “Departures” area—a closed off section located on the farthest side of the terminal, labeled in green by the augmentations of her HUD.

A large EXIT overlay was digitally written above a pair of glass doors nearby. She approached those doors, which opened automatically when she was only a few meters away. Filled with nervous excitement, she bound-stepped through into the city beyond.

When she emerged, she was immediately hit by how cold it was outside. She realized now that the terminal building had been heated. Out here, it was at least minus twenty, if not colder.

As she surveyed the scene before her, she felt a pang of disappointment. It was nothing like the beach scene she’d overlaid onto the walls of the cargo bay of course. She was expecting that. And yet, somehow, what she did see seemed so much lesser than what she had envisioned.

That’s what happens when I build my expectations on staged, touched-up photos taken in perfect lighting.

Even so, she had to give the architects some credit. The buildings immediately beyond the terminal were a visual delight, constructed as they were in the baroque fashion of ancient Europe.

Just like the Europans to model ancient Europe, she thought.

The details were ornate, and extravagant in style. Entablatures, frescoes and arcades were common on the front facades of the buildings. Friezes and cornices were often exquisitely carved, sometimes depicting vines and similar creeping plants, while at other times illustrating abstract designs like fractals or star fields; a few even showcased large fleets of powerful warships—the latter no doubt meant to portray the power of the Europan space navy.

Still, it somehow all seemed so drab, like any other northern city of Earth in the grip of winter. Not that she had visited such cities in person of course, but she had viewed them on the streaming sites often enough. There was even snow on some of the rooftops, and icicles hanging from a few of the eaves. According to what she’d read, the internal temperature inside the dome was regulated below freezing to keep the icy crust immediately below from melting: it wouldn’t do to have the dome sink into the moon.

The ice beneath her feet was sheathed in a translucent layer of polycarbonate, which carpeted the exposed ground throughout the interior. It was meant to make the surface less slippery for pedestrian and other road traffic.

Overhead, drones moved to and fro, buzzing away as they delivered food and other parcels. The futuristic craft seemed out of place, and almost anachronistic against the backdrop of that baroque architecture; she was reminded of the swarms that populated the air above Rust Town and Aradne. The humming machines definitely ruined any atmosphere the buildings were meant to evoke. She noticed that many of the payloads were a lot larger than she might see on Earth, which made sense, given the lower gravity: on Earth, a land-based robot or vehicle would be used for the bigger deliveries, but here the drones could carry packages seven times as heavy.

There weren’t that many citizens out and about, but those humans she saw were bundled in synthetic furs or parkas. The cyborgs among them wore skimpier attire, of course, and the robots nothing at all. But all of them, from robots to humans to cyborgs, used that bounding walk to travel from place to place. That said, the humans seemed to arc the closest to the ground, as if they were the weakest of the bunch. Their gait was almost Earthlike, but not quite. Will put them to shame with his wide, curving bounces.

“I think I understand why they call this place Centaar,” Will quipped, his breath misting. “Because everyone looks like a bounding centaur!” Shivering visibly, he wrapped his arms tightly around his chest.

Her breath misted in the cold too, but her cyborg body adapted quickly, and she felt little discomfort, unlike Will. She noted that the air smelled slightly better out here, though it still carried a hint of must.

“So, uh, can we start heading toward the short-term rental?” Will asked. “Before I freeze to death?”

“Maybe we should go back inside so you can rent another spacesuit,” Horatio suggested.

“Funny robot,” Will said between chattering teeth.

“To the rental.” Rhea beckoned at Will, and he gladly took the lead. His backpack bobbed up and down in time to his bounding steps.

“After you, my lady,” Horatio said.

Rhea smiled at the robot and slid the sack over her shoulder to follow Will.

As she began that bounding walk, she smiled ever so slightly. The colony might not be as grand as she envisioned, but that didn’t change the fact that she was here. Actually here. On Ganymede.

I’m home.

5

Sometime later, Rhea found herself seated on the bed of her room, inside the short-term rental Will had arranged before they left Earth. She gazed through the window beside her, and out across the baroque buildings spread before her, toward the horizon and the walls of the opaque dome that enclosed the city. Heat poured from the vents beneath the window, warming her metallic body.

It felt strange, living here. Nobody knew who she was. She kind of preferred it that way. And yet, it did make her feel somewhat lonely. At least she had Will and Horatio.

As she gazed at that distant dome, she noted the way it subtly reflected the city below. The reflections were curved, matching the concave shape of the dome. So many buildings crammed together into one space.

Once again, she wondered if it would be possible to rebuild the old Ganymede. Now that she was here, she doubted it. The work involved… the cost… both were simply too great.

What would be the point, anyway? The Europans had done a well enough job. Perhaps it was best if she left the place well enough alone. After all, nothing could halt the inexorable passage of time, that cruel mistress, and the changes she wrought. People lived and died. Buildings aged and were replaced. On a larger scale, civilizations rose and fell. New nations cropped up to replace those that were lost. It was all so inevitable.

This moon belonged to Europa now.

Not to her people.

Not to her.

She turned her gaze away.

She hadn’t bother to apply the usual virtual decorations to this, her bedroom. What was the point? She didn’t need a fake Ganymede plastered over the window of the real one beyond: that would simply be deluding herself. And she hardly felt in the mood for a heroic painting of herself.

As I told Will and all the others long ago, I’m no hero.

She sighed, laying back on the bed, and shut her eyes.

What am I doing here?

A thumping came from Will’s bedroom. It grew louder and stronger with each passing moment until her bed began to vibrate in time to the thumps. She also heard muted moaning, both male and female.

It was getting annoying, so she got up.

She bound-walked into the hall, passing by the closed door to Will’s bedroom. Horatio’s bedroom, next to it, was open, but the robot didn’t reside within.

The ceiling was placed well above her, no doubt designed to support the bounding gait that was so common in this lesser gravity, allowing the occupants to advance without hitting the ceiling. Apparently not everyone enjoyed shifting their center of gravity so far forward to reduce the height of their arcs, as Rhea had trained herself to do since leaving the Molly Dook.

In the kitchen she found Horatio. The robot stood in one corner, no doubt exploring some of the local virtual reality games designed for machines such as himself.

She grabbed a glass from a cupboard and filled it with water from the refrigeration unit. She also fetched a pear. The latter was part of a produce delivery that had arrived shortly after Rhea and the others had checked-in: a gift from the owners. The delivery had emerged from a small slot in the wall next to the fridge: the buildings in Centaar were architected with specialized access ports on the rooftops for drone deliveries. A system of elevators and conveyor belts built into the walls transported them to the appropriate rooms.

Rhea sat down on a couch next to Horatio, and the robot looked at her.

“Welcome back to the real world,” Rhea said.

“A part of me never left it,” Horatio said.

“Yes, but the most important part did,” Rhea countered.

She devoured the pear, stem and all. It was nice to have food that wasn’t in pill form every once in a while, even if most of the energy was wasted in this case, considering the pear was mostly carbs. She supplemented the meal with a couple of fat pills from her pocket, downing them with the glass of water.

A woman emerged from the bedroom hallway. Her hair and clothes were disheveled. The right side of her head was shaved, while the left side was long and flowing, as was the custom here among both men and women.

Until now, Rhea hadn’t seen the bare arms or legs of the people here, since everyone she’d witnessed outside wore parkas and thick pants, but this woman had on a skirt and a short- sleeved blouse, revealing ample skin. Rhea was taken aback by how thin her arms and legs were. It was almost as if she was emaciated, yet that couldn’t be the case, because there was plenty of baby fat on her face. Yet her thighs looked almost the same thickness as her biceps, which in turn were a similar size as her forearms. It was almost repulsive.

Then Rhea understood that what she was seeing was a consequence of the lower gravity of this moon. Of course the muscles would atrophy under such conditions, where the tension they were put under was ten times less than what they were designed for. She could only imagine what living here would do to subsequent generations of humans—smaller muscles caused reduced bone mass, stunting growth. That meant the humans who grew up here were essentially stuck on the moon. They could never visit Earth, not without mechanical assists or exoskeletons.

Rhea noticed that the woman’s bounding steps arced much lower than that of her companions; it was closer to the gait typically found on Earth. Which made some sense, given the reduced muscle mass.

The woman smiled sheepishly when she moved by Rhea. She grabbed her parka where it was hanging next to the entrance and quickly ducked into the common hallway outside.

“I don’t know how he finds them so quickly,” Rhea commented to Horatio when she was gone.

“An app,” Horatio explained. “He started pipelining before we left Earth.”

“Pipelining?” Rhea asked.

“Laying the groundwork…” Horatio replied. “Contacting the locals. Arranging rendezvous times.”

“Ah,” Rhea said.

Shirtless, Will bound walked from the hall. His dreadlocks tumbled over his shoulders in wild disarray. He rubbed his eyes, as if the bright light streaming in from the windows bothered him and grabbed an apple from the refrigeration unit.

“When are you going to stop seeing whores?” Rhea asked when he sat lightly onto the couch opposite her. She hadn’t meant for that slight twinge of jealousy to enter her voice.

Will bit into the apple. “Not whores. I use a dating app.”

“Hook-up app, you mean,” Rhea said.

Will shrugged, taking another bite. “Same thing.”

“So, how are they?” Rhea asked.

“The women of this colony?” Will replied. “All right. I admit that having sex in lower gravity allows for some rather interesting new positions. There’s something about having sex with a chick while she’s doing a handstand that I find—”

“Don’t want to hear it,” Rhea said, waving a dismissive palm.

Will nodded. He finished his apple and tossed the core toward the small trash can next to the kitchen counter. The lid opened, accepting the garbage.

“Now that we’re here, what do you actually want to do?” Will said.

“Well it’s clear what you want to do…” Rhea said.

He frowned at her. “Get the genital attachments and you can do it, too.”

“Not with you,” Rhea said.

“I meant with other people,” Will said.

“Good,” she said.

“I would like to know what you want to do as well,” Horatio said. “You were never very clear about it. ‘I want to go to Ganymede,’ was all you would say. Well, we are here. Now what? Are we going to plot the demise of the local Europan government? Or simple engage in some friendly sightseeing?”

“The latter,” Rhea said. “I’m not interested in overthrowing the government. The Europans have done a good job here, as far as I can tell. Why throw away all their good work? They want Ganymede? They shed blood to take it? Then let them have it.” For now. “So. Sightseeing is on the menu among other things. There’s a museum I want to hit. And I heard Centaar has some nice Externals going on at the southern walls of the dome.”

“Externals?” Will asked.

“That’s where people strap on jet packs and a pair of skis, and then slalom down the exterior of the geodesic dome,” Horatio explained.

Will stared at her in disbelief. “You want to jet ski down the exterior of a geodesic dome…”

“What’s wrong with that?” Rhea said.

Will shrugged. “Whatever shoots your pistol.”

She smiled at that, and then glanced toward the kitchen window. It afforded much the same view as her bedroom.

A chime sounded and Will stood up. He bounded to the slot next to the fridge and reached inside. “Here we go.”

He pulled out the package and ripped it open, revealing a compressed garment of some sort.

He unfolded it, revealing a parka, and tried it on. Frowning, he glanced at her. “The site said ‘fits true to size.’ Does this look like it fits true to size?”

“Looks a bit small on you,” Horatio commented.

“I gave the site permission to use my biometric profile,” Will said. “Went through the whole virtual fitting crap. The lying bastards. Well, that’s what I get for trying to rush the purchase in before my date. Ah well, I’m not going to return it now. Suppose it’ll do.” He shrugged off the parka and tossed it onto the couch, then sat down beside the garment.

Rhea had returned her gaze to the window.

“Looking at your usual private world?” Will asked. “Your secret augmented reality overlays?”

“No,” Rhea said sadly. “Just the real world.”

“What’s wrong?” Will asked.

“Am I that transparent?” Rhea replied.

“Uh huh,” Will told her.

She swallowed, then glanced at her friends, but was unable to hold their collective gazes. She let her eyes drift to the window.

“I thought this would feel like home,” she said. “But it doesn’t. I miss Earth. I miss Rust Town.”

“No surprise there,” Will said. “I could have told you this would happen.”

“Come now,” Horatio said. “No need to be so insensitive.”

“A machine, telling me I’m insensitive,” Will quipped. “That’s a new one.”

“After so many years spent in the company of humans, I’ve learned to be attentive to such matters,” Horatio said. “In any case, it’s obvious she’s not happy.”

“Yeah.” Will glanced at her. “Are you sure it’s Rust Town you miss, and not the attention?”

“Maybe both,” she admitted. “In Rust Town I was the Warden. Here, I’m a nobody.”

“Not a nobody,” Will told her. “You’re a somebody to us.”

She gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

“Besides, I’m sure the local government has an inkling of who you are,” Will said. “While the ordinary citizens of this colony might not watch Earth’s streaming channels—mostly because of network latency—the Europans have automated agents planetside, agents specifically designed to monitor our channels and send back summarized reports on a regular basis. The government knows who you are, I guarantee you. They’ve probably been watching you since your arrival. Or their AI has.”

“Somehow that’s not very reassuring,” she said.

“It’s not supposed to be,” Will told her. “It’s meant mostly as a warning.”

“To behave?” she asked.

“Basically,” he replied.

She remembered the friendly face of the customs official, a face operated by the very same AI responsible for the entire colony, by its own admission. It would have recorded her ID in that moment and cross-linked it to her Earth persona. Yes, Will was right: they knew the Warden was here. But so far, they didn’t really seem to care.

Over the next few days, she did her sightseeing, and was not bothered by the government. She was constantly aware of all the watching eyes upon her, in the form of the dome cameras affixed to the buildings, and their interior concourses.

She visited most of the major buildings and tourist attractions, and even got her Externals skiing session in. Will grudgingly came along for the latter, and after falling three times in a row, skidding all the way to the bottom, he gave up. Rhea did little better, and accidentally jetted into the dome while trying to avoid another skier. She made a few new dents in her body, but at least she didn’t need repairs.

Three days passed. The AI had yet to notify her of any unscheduled arrivals at the space terminal. She complained to Will about it.

“What if someone arrived and the AI is concealing it from me?” Rhea asked him.

“It’s certainly possible,” Will agreed. “Though I’m not sure what the AI would have to gain by that.”

“Maybe the Europans want to see me assassinated,” Rhea said. “Maybe they’re worried I’ll foment discontent among the less fortunate, as I did in Rust Town, and stir them to revolution.”

“There’s hardly any ‘less fortunate’ here,” Will said. “The classes seem about equal, from what I can tell. They’d have to be, to be able to afford migration from Europa.”

“Well, either way, the government probably feels I’m up to no good,” Rhea said.

“You think too highly of yourself,” Will said. “Honestly, I don’t believe they care all that much about your presence. They’ll monitor you, yes, but abet your death? I doubt it.”

If they knew who she really was, they might consider assassinating her, Horatio sent over a private mental channel.

There, see? Rhea transmitted over the same encrypted channel, without opening her mouth. Even Horatio agrees with me.

Except, they don’t know who you really are, Will commented.

Rhea had been very careful not to mention her Ganymedean roots out loud, not even in the privacy of the short-term rental. And whenever she or any of her companions got close to mentioning it, they always switched to encrypted mental communications. They weren’t going to risk being overheard, or having their lips read, by an AI. There were likely hidden microphones and cameras embedded everywhere, even here, keeping the all-seeing, all-knowing AI of the colony informed. If it was discovered that she was a Ganymedean, the local government would seriously wonder at her intentions. That government might dispel her, confine her, or worse; perhaps even assassinate her like Horatio said.

“I want to talk to the colony’s AI.” Rhea glanced up. “Well AI, call me.”

“It’s not going to respond just like that,” Will said. “And admit it’s spying on us.”

Rhea waited, then frowned when no call came. “Why keep up the ruse?”

She accessed the local Internet via her HUD and pulled up the main site for the colony. She found the “Contact Us” card and activated it.

The familiar women from customs appeared in front of her. “Hello again, Rhea. I trust your visit to our colony has been pleasant?”

“It’s been great,” she said, which wasn’t a lie.

“Excellent,” the holographic woman said. “What can I help you with today?”

“I’m calling because I wanted to double-check with you that no unscheduled ships have arrived,” Rhea said.

The woman blinked. Her smile remained unchanged. “No new ships have arrived.”

“You’re sure?” Rhea pressed.

“Of course I’m sure,” the woman said.

“Could a part of you be malfunctioning?” Rhea asked. “Maybe someone hacked the space terminal’s cameras or sensors?”

“All systems are functioning within expected parameters in the space terminal,” the woman replied. “No viruses or other malicious code has been found. I’m sorry. No one unscheduled has arrived. Nor have there been any scheduled arrivals.”

Rhea knew the latter already. She’d checked the flight aggregator sites: the next transport was set to arrive in a week.

“Is there anything else?” the holographic woman asked.

“That will be all,” Rhea said, disconnecting.

She glanced at Will.

Maybe it was pirates who shot at us after all, he sent over a mental channel.

Maybe, Rhea agreed. Did you see the way the AI blinked when I asked it to double-check?

Meaningless, Will transmitted. It’s an AI. When they lie, their faces don’t exhibit tells or other microtics. It’s simply part of their programming. You know, to make the hologram appear as realistic as possible.

She sighed. I suppose you’re right. I’m trying to read too much into something that isn’t there.

She stood up, bounded to her room, and retrieved the parka she’d purchased to fit in with the locals.

When she returned to the kitchen, Will was eating a sandwich.

“Where are we going?” Will asked, nodding at her jacket.

“The one place we haven’t gone yet,” Rhea replied.

“Oh no, not there,” Will said.

“Yup,” Rhea said.

Will gobbled down the sandwich. He grabbed an apple from the counter and threw it at Horatio. The robot stood silently in one corner, obviously absorbed in some virtual world or other, but its arm flew up to intercept the apple. The robot studied the fruit between its fingers, as if curious, then glanced at Will. Horatio’s gaze drifted to Rhea and her parka.

“Where are we going?” Horatio asked.

“The museum,” Will replied. “Exciting, huh?”

“Actually, I think that would be fun,” Horatio said.

“You would,” Will told the robot.

“I heard they have some old Ganymede gear on display,” Rhea said. “I’d like to check it out, see if it sparks any memories.”

So far, she hadn’t had a flashback for the entire trip. Part of the reason she had come here was to revive some of her lost memories, and she was beginning to wonder if any more of them had survived the wipe. So anything she could do to induce a flashback, like visiting a museum containing Ganymede artifacts from before the war, was worth a try.

“I still think you should see a therapist, or a hypnotist,” Will said. “If you’re serious about getting back your memories.”

“At this rate I might have to,” Rhea concurred.

“When we’re done at the museum, can we go home?” Will asked. “Back to Earth?”

She smiled patiently. “When are you going to understand? This is home.”

“That’s right, keep telling yourself that,” Will said. “It’s obvious from your voice that even you don’t believe it.”

“No,” she said slowly. “I suppose I don’t.”

6

Rhea perused the different exhibits at the museum with Will and Horatio. Most of the displays consisted of replicas of Europan dwelling styles, tools, and rocket ships. At each station a virtual guide appeared to explain what they were looking at, a guide cast in the same mien as the customs woman Rhea had encountered when first debarking the Molly Dook.

Rhea gave all of those exhibits only cursory glances, and mostly walked away from the virtual guides in mid-sentence, heading for the Ganymede section.

What she found was only of moderate interest. Some old Ganymedean augmented reality tech, clothing, miniatures of their geodesic domes and buildings, reproductions of room layouts, and so forth. None of it triggered a memory.

Behind a glass display resided the mummified remains of two Ganymedeans holding hands. A man and a woman, judging from the distinct body shapes, though their faces were horribly disfigured. They were Robos, with robotic limbs attached to their arms. According to the virtual guide, these two were collected from one of the failed domes during the war. Their bodies had freeze dried in the void, preserving them. Apparently, all the air had been evacuated from the display case, so that they would remain in their current state for all eternity—or until the vacuum system failed.

“How many Ganymedean domes were there?” Rhea asked the AI-driven guide.

“Seventy in total,” the guide replied.

“They were all destroyed?” she pressed.

“Yes.”

“And where can I find the closest?” she asked.

She had tried looking up their locations while still on Earth, but got nothing, and assumed she would be able to find out more from the local Internet once she actually arrived. She’d been wrong: the search results were just as empty here as on Earth.

“That information is unknown,” the guide replied.

“Unknown?” Rhea said. “Or suppressed.”

The guide didn’t answer.

“Gotta love how forthright they are,” Will quipped.

Rhea moved on to another display, and paused, waiting for the guide to appear and explain just what it was she was looking at. But the hologram did not show up this time.

“What is this?” she asked.

Finally, a holographic guide appeared. A man this time, dressed in tight-fitting gray fatigues. No, not a hologram.

She knew him.

Or did, once. She recognized him from the first flashback she ever had, when she flew Gizmo along the perimeter of that area known as Aradne Parliament, close to the dome-shaped Parliament Building within.

He was draped in robes of white silk, with a red, tasseled rope girthing his waist. A gold medallion dangled from his throat, reaching to the center of his chest. He was bald, clean-shaven, and square-jawed, with a thick brow and penetrating blue eyes.

“You know what this is,” the man said.

He vanished. And in his place was the usual guide, the holographic woman, saying something in a language Rhea could not understand in that moment.

Rhea’s eyes drifted to the objects that floated in the center of the glass case. They looked like a pair of brass knuckles, with bright plating along their upper rims.

The woman’s gibberish became understandable once more, and Rhea heard these words: “They are inert, their power sources long since removed.”

Rhea ran a hand across the glass. Beyond, the two devices almost seemed to call out to her. “They’re not inert. They’re just waiting for their proper owner: a Ganymede warrior.”

She punched through the glass in a sudden fit of rage. How dare they stow such a prized weapon in a museum? A weapon like this was meant to be used.

An alarm sounded.

She reached inside and slid her hands into the brass knuckles, which yet floated in place, waiting for her. When her fingers were secure, she formed them into fists, and the knuckles ignited: disks of plasma erupted from them, cutting through the glass fragments that remained.

She removed her hands and examined the translucent blue disks. They reached past her elbows and extended a similar distance in front of her arms. They hummed loudly. Hungrily. Like the rotors of a drone, but deeper.

“It shouldn’t be possible for her to operate them!” someone was saying. “They have no power source.”

“Apparently you’re wrong about that,” Will said.

Rhea glanced at him. Dressed in the museum’s livery, a woman stood next to Will and Horatio. She wore a horrified expression.

“How did you—?” the woman asked.

“It’s biometrically encoded to my brain,” she replied. “Only a Ganymedean can activate such a weapon. Human, or cyborg.”

“But no Ganymedeans…” Her expression became even more alarmed when the realization dawned on her.

The stamp of metallic feet echoed through the museum’s corridors—the slow, heavy bounding of robots. In moments two security robots hopped into view between the other exhibits.

“Drop your weapons!” one of the robots said. The rifle barrels built into their arms were pointed directly at Rhea and her humming disks.

Rhea cocked her head. “Make me.”

“No wait—” the museum official began.

But the robots opened fire.

Rhea was already redirecting the disks to intercept the plasma shots. The bolts struck them, and she deflected blasts easily. Will, Horatio and the official ducked as the bolts shot past into the wall.

Rhea rushed the robots. She moved at a bounding crouch, taking purposeful, arcing steps, holding the disks one atop the other so that her entire body was protected. The robots continued to fire, but the shots bounced away harmlessly from the glowing circles. Well, the impacts weren’t so harmless to the other exhibits the deflected bolts struck.

When she reached her attackers, she stood up and swung her arms sideways. The glowing edges slammed into their necks, beheading the robots. She followed up with a downward swing, leaving a molten red line down their middles. The headless bodies separated vertically, split in half, and the constituent pieces clanged to the floor.

More footfalls came from the south and she spun to face her latest aggressors.

A man who Rhea assumed was either the curator or the head of security arrived with five more combat robots. “What the hell is going on?”

Rhea bore her teeth in a rictus. “Come to dance?”

“Stop!” the woman official next to Will said. “This is all a misunderstanding!” She stood up and bounded toward the curator. “Don’t fire!”

“The only misunderstanding is that you’re stealing from my ancestors,” Rhea said. “And from me. This is mine now. My inheritance. My heirloom. I’ll destroy all of your robots if they don’t back down. I’ll destroy your entire museum.” Full of rage and bloodlust, in that moment she fully meant it. In fact, she was ready to take on the entire colony.

The curator hesitated. He glanced at the woman official, then toward the robots. “Stand down.”

The robots lowered their arms. Their weapons didn’t retract, Rhea noticed.

She stared at them a moment longer, then let her fingers relax. The moment she ceased forming a fist, the disks evanesced.

Will and Horatio stood up from where they were ducked on the floor and bound-walked to her side.

As the rage left her, she realized what she had almost done.

She gazed down at her hands in confusion, and let the weapons fall away.

“Arrest them,” the curator said.

“Hey, now wait a second—” Will said.

In moments the three of them were surrounded. The robots bound them and led them away.

* * *

The robots loaded them into a waiting van and transported them to a local jail.

So it was that only half an hour later Rhea found herself sitting in a cell across from Will and Horatio. The bars of the cell were made of traditional metal, rather than some force field of plasma or other high-tech barrier.

Force fields such as the ones she was thinking of could prevent matter from passing through, but energy, as generated by plasma or laser weapons, could readily penetrate. The denial of energy was beyond any existing technology available in the solar system, and yet she’d just used a force field type of weapon that could deflect lasers and plasma bolts both. Lost Ganymedean tech, its workings unknown, abandoned to a museum.

How did you know how to use those things? Will asked over a mental channel. Or what they even were, let alone that they were biometrically encoded to your brain?

I was wondering when you’d ask her, Horatio sent.

Hey, I wanted to give her some time to calm down, Will said. He turned toward her once more. So, how did you know?

She wasn’t sure why they bothered to use mental communication. The Europans knew who she was now. Still, she played along.

I don’t know, Rhea returned. I just… knew. And when I picked them up, muscle memory took over. I knew how to fight with them. To a degree anyway. Enough to kill. She paused. I’m a killer. I’ve come to realize that now.

No, Will sent. Back there you said you were a warrior. If that’s true—which I believe it is, given everything I’ve seen you do—there’s a difference.

Is there? Rhea gazed off into space and was silent for several seconds. And then: Ban’Shar.

What? Will transmitted.

Ban’Shar, she repeated. That’s what they’re called.

Guess you’re having those flashbacks you wanted, Will said.

Not flashbacks, she said. But some memories are undoubtedly being triggered.

Undoubtedly, Will commented drily. Let’s hope any more memories you stir up don’t land us in deeper trouble.

A robot arrived with fat pills and water, and Rhea and the others downed them hungrily.

After about an hour, five more security robots arrived, cuffed Rhea and her companions, and then escorted them into the hall. The three of them bounded along quietly.

The robots led them to an empty conference room. After making them sit down at the long board table, the machines removed the cuffs and then assumed guard positions along the surrounding walls.

A prompt appeared on Rhea’s HUD.

Sharing request from Locality Jail 2A. Do you accept? (Y/N)

Rhea glanced at Will and Horatio, then shrugged and accepted.

The holograms of several official-looking men and women appeared around the conference room table. The men wore suits and ties, the women blazers and dress shirts.

“Well hello there, Dudes and Dudettes,” Will said.

One of the men gave him an offhand look, then returned his attention to Rhea.

“Who are you?” Rhea said.

“We are members of the ruling council of Centaar,” the man said. “My name is Peter Detalt. I’m the council head. To my immediate right and left are Brenda McPhars and John Moine, my closest advisors. We’ve come to discuss your terms.”

“My terms?” she asked, confused.

“Of release,” Peter replied. “You attempted larceny. Damaged property. Killed two sentient robots.”

“And why would the council of Centaar involve itself with the release of a local criminal?” Rhea pressed.

“You’re not just any criminal,” Peter said. “And your actions, not some petty crime. You activated a weapon that hasn’t seen use in thirty years.”

Rhea didn’t have anything to say to that.

“You are Ganymedean, are you not?” Peter pressed.

“Yes,” Rhea admitted. There was no point in denying it. Not anymore.

“As the last surviving Ganymedean, you represent your people,” Peter continued. “Making this an official matter.”

“What are you saying?” Rhea asked.

“We’re trying to decide whether your actions are protected by diplomatic immunity,” Peter replied.

Will rubbed his chin. “That’s interesting.” He glanced at her. “If you think about it, as the last Ganymedean, by default you’re president of the Ganymedean people.”

“But a president has to be elected,” Rhea said.

Will shrugged. “Then elect yourself.”

Suddenly understanding, she glanced at Peter. “So, you say you’re trying to decide whether I’m protected by diplomatic immunity. But given who I am, what you really mean is: you’re trying to determine what price to exact in exchange for setting me free. What do you want then? Some kind of promise that I won’t try to reclaim Ganymede, or otherwise interfere with your sovereignty?”

“Essentially, yes,” Peter said. “We paid greatly, with many lives, to secure this moon after your people fell. We can’t have some hero from Earth coming here and attempting to undo what we’ve done.” He glanced at the other council members. “You will sign a contract, stating that you have no claim on this moon, and that you will never return. Sign this, and we will dismiss all charges against you.”

Rhea received another share request and accepted the digital document. She distributed it to Will and Horatio, and then quickly read it over on her HUD.

“I can’t sign this,” she said flatly. “The part about having no claim to the moon, I can live with… but never returning? You can’t ban someone from an entire colony.”

“We can, and we do,” Peter said. “Routinely.”

Rhea shook her head. “And what’s this about giving up my rights to any and all Ganymedean artifacts I find in the colony? I don’t think so. I want the Ban’Shar.”

Peter sat back and steepled his fingers. “You and your friends will be imprisoned indefinitely until you sign.”

“Just sign it,” Will hissed.

Rhea stared daggers at the man. “To me, it’s telling that Europa didn’t help us in our time of need thirty years ago. Instead you swooped in after we’d already weakened Earth’s space navy, and took the moon, along with all its water, for yourself.”

Peter shrugged. “We offered aid,” he said nonchalantly, almost with disdain. “Your leaders refused. I was there. Their intentions were noble: they were afraid of drawing us into the war.”

“So you say,” Rhea told him.

“I can show you the holographic recordings I made…” Peter said.

“Recordings which can be doctored,” Rhea said.

She ran her gaze across the other council members. They wanted her to sign a document stating she had no claim over the moon, which made her wonder… what if she really could claim something? Did she have that power, based solely on who she was? She wasn’t familiar with Europan law…

“What if I wanted to negotiate a claim over a portion of this moon’s water?” she said. “As part of the reparations owed my people…”

Peter smiled widely, and from the way his jaw clenched, Rhea thought he was doing his best not to laugh. The eyes of other council members similarly shone with amusement.

Finally, he seemed to get himself under control, and he said: “You don’t understand. We’re not here because you have power over us in any way, shape, or form. We’re here because we want to get rid of you. You’re a thorn in our side. A memory of the Ganymede that once was. But you have no negotiating power. If you won’t sign our contract and go away, we’ll imprison you and your friends. It’s as simple as that. We’ll never grant you a claim to any of our water. Nor will we give you any of the artifacts we recovered from the old Ganymede. This water, and these artifacts, might have belonged to your people long ago, but they are ours now. Ours. This is how the solar system works. Reparations are a concept for weak governments. We are strong. Besides, reparations only become an option when there are an actual people around to claim the grievances, not a lone person.”

“It’s not for me, but Earth,” Rhea pleaded. “The planet has maybe a year left. We need to set up a deal as soon as possible, or it will be too late. People will die. Billions.”

“We don’t recognize you as someone with any influence on Earth, and thus capable of negotiating on its behalf,” Peter said.

“I have millions of followers,” Rhea said.

“Do you now?” Peter said. “According to my sources, you’re banned from all the major streaming sites. You may have been an ‘influencer’ at some point, but you’re nothing now.”

“You might be surprised at how much influence I still have,” she said sullenly, though she knew he was right. She was banned from the major streaming networks, and while she might have the people of Rust Town on her side, that was only one small settlement, a tiny fraction of the entire population of Earth.

“I understand your intentions are noble,” Peter continued. “But you’re in no position to negotiate on behalf of Earth, I’m afraid. You need not concern yourself with this matter. We’re already working on a deal with Earth’s High Council.”

Rhea almost rolled her eyes. “So I’ve heard. You’ve been working on this deal for the past thirty years and still haven’t hammered anything out. Tell me you’re close, at least.”

Peter glanced at that council woman seated immediately beside him. Brenda.

“We’re no further than we were thirty years ago,” Brenda admitted.

“Why?” Rhea said. “Which side is at fault? Yours?”

They didn’t answer.

“Of course they’re going to blame Earth,” Will told her softly.

Rhea glanced at him, then returned her attention to the council members. “If you tell me, I’ll think about signing that contract.”

Brenda glanced at Peter, who nodded ever so subtly.

Brenda sighed. “The blame falls squarely on Earth. Or rather one particular member. Khrusos. Whenever we come close to an agreement in principle, a compromise that we and most of the High Council can live with, Khrusos always vetoes the proposal.”

John, the council member to the left of Peter, looked at Rhea and added: “The sad thing is, you’re completely right. We need to start building up the interplanetary supply infrastructure immediately, if Earth’s needs are to be met nine months from now when its oceans begin to run dry. But we can’t, not until we come to some sort of agreement.”

“How can one man overrule an entire council?” Rhea asked.

“He is the most powerful member,” Brenda replied.

“Can’t you just agree to what he wants?” Rhea said. “The lives of billions are at stake.”

Brenda’s tone softened, and when she spoke, it seemed almost with pity: “You haven’t seen the terms he wants…”

“I might have to have a talk with him…” Rhea said.

That brought a smirk from Peter, but the man said nothing.

Will’s words came to her unbidden. Sometimes, Dude, you’re so naive.

Yes, she was naive to think she could make a difference here.

That angered her, and only made her want to dig in.

She resisted the urge for the sake of her friends, and sighed.

“All right, I’ll sign it,” she said. “I’ll state I have no claim to this moon, nor the water beneath its crust. I’ll also cede any rights to the Ganymedean artifacts you’ve collected, with one exception: I won’t give up the Ban’Shar. Place a provision for that weapon in the contract, and you’ve got yourself an agreement.”

Peter frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t—”

“No Ban’Shar, no signature,” she interrupted.

Peter stared at her for several seconds. Then: “A moment.”

He and the other holograms vanished from view, ostensibly to confer.

“They’re sure taking their time,” Will commented after a minute had passed.

The council members reappeared a good three minutes later. “We have updated the contract.”

Rhea accepted the new share request and reread the document. They’d added a provision for the Ban’Shar, as she’d asked. The weapon was hers, but she wouldn’t be able to retrieve it until she boarded a transport headed off moon.

She digitally signed the contract and transmitted it to Peter.

The councilor smiled. “Thank you. You and your friends may stay a few weeks until you’re able to arrange transportation. Then you will never return.”

7

As soon as she returned to her lodging in the short-term rental, Rhea sent a message to Targon, letting him know that she’d be accepting his offer of a return trip after all. The transmission would take a few hours to reach him, and his reply would come another couple of hours after that.

When that was done, she sent Horatio a mental message: I want to know the locations of the lost Ganymedean domes.

That information appears to be scrubbed from the local Internet, Horatio said.

Rhea nodded. Yes, I know. But you’re going to get it the old fashioned way. That’s right, you’re actually going to ask some people in real life, rather than relying upon the results of some censored search engine.

Horatio seemed puzzled. Ask people in real life? Like who?

Former members of the Europan space navy, early colonists, archeologists, Rhea transmitted. There are bound to be people out there who’ve encountered at least one of the destroyed domes at some point or another. Dig around… start online to generate leads and move to the offline world when you get in touch with them.

You don’t want me to contact these leads over the local Internet? Horatio asked.

I’d prefer not, she clarified. You can arrange the meeting online, if you insist, but don’t tell them what you’re after until you sit them down in person. You have to assume that the colony’s AI is watching everything all of us do, as it will from now until we leave.

It isn’t a crime to seek out fallen Ganymedean domes, as far as I know, Horatio sent.

No, it’s not, Rhea agreed. But if the search results are any indication, the local council doesn’t want armchair explorers gallivanting about the ruins, for ‘safety reasons’ or otherwise. If the AI knew what you were after, it might try to dissuade any leads from talking with you. Try to get as many of them to meet with you at once as you can, and once you get them all together in person, if they refuse to talk, offer a financial award.

And how are we going to pay such a reward? Horatio inquired.

Get in touch with the Wardenites, Rhea replied. Tell them to announce a general call for donations, with the expectation of a wire to follow…

Horatio studied her with that mostly featureless face. I take it you want to visit one of these domes because you hope to trigger more memories?

Good guess, she told the robot.

* * *

Rhea received a confirmation from Targon four hours later, and he promised to retrieve them within the week. She forwarded the message to city council to show them she was keeping her word to leave Centaar, even though she suspected they were monitoring her communications and already knew: she figured it was best to play the part of the naive traveler for the time being. She received a succinct “thank you” from Peter shortly after.

She monitored Horatio’s progress over the next couple of days, so that when the robot left to meet with a local veteran’s group, she remained apprised.

On the way back from the meeting, Horatio contacted Rhea and Will over the local Internet. He used an encrypted mental channel: I have the locations of most of the destroyed domes.

She received a share request over that same channel and several waypoints appeared on her overhead map. She zoomed out. The domes were scattered across Ganymede. The closest was only fifty kilometers away, a short hop by shuttle.

I got the data for free by the way, Horatio continued. The veterans were more than happy to share what they knew in exchange for a few rounds of beer.

Did you have to drink with them? Will taunted.

Of course! Horatio replied.

Rhea couldn’t really picture the robot pouring beer into that grill of a mouth.

Since no financial incentives were needed other than beer, I already sent a message to the Wardenites, informing them to cancel their call for donations, Horatio continued.

Good, good, Rhea sent absently. She was trying to decide how best to charter a shuttle for that dome… she wouldn’t be able to hide the destination from the flight company.

Why are we still communicating mentally? Will said. The AI would have already recorded Horatio talking with the veterans about the dome locations. Unless all communications were done mentally?

They were not, Horatio admitted. I tried mental communications at first, but the liquored-up veterans wouldn’t have it. I did take care to sit as far as possible from any monitoring devices as I was able, but the men probably carried such devices on their persons without knowing it… their AR goggles, for example. So Will is correct, the AI knows. If it, or the council, wants to stop us, they will.

She glanced at Will. “I suppose you’re right. We’ll talk more when you get back, Horatio.” She disconnected.

“Assuming we’re not arrested by the time he gets back…” Will said.

Rhea glanced at her overhead map. “I want to charter a shuttle this afternoon.”

“Can’t you just send a remote drone?” Will pleaded.

“There’s no way to control it that far,” Rhea said. “Not on this world.”

“That’s fine, program it on a standard exploratory route, and you can review the footage after it returns,” Will told her.

“That’s not going to cut it,” Rhea told him. “I want to be able to react to what I’m seeing and explore whatever piques my interest. I’m going to have to go myself, I’m afraid.”

“But why?” Will said. He switched to mental communications. You told me you triggered a memory when you were exploring Aradne by drone before. The same could happen here.

It’s certainly possible, she sent.

What if our assassin friend is still out there? Will transmitted. Watching from orbit? Waiting for the moment to strike?

Then I guess we’ll draw him out, Rhea sent.

This is a bad idea… Will replied.

She hesitated, and almost agreed to visit the site remotely. But then her resolved hardened. This was once my home. I need to see the ruins with my own eyes. Need to touch them with my gloved hands. Otherwise, I won’t have closure. It’s not something I can do remotely, via a drone. It can’t be something I relive on an augmented reality display. It has to be real.

Will sighed. You’re not going to back down on this, are you?

No, she said. And if I’m truly being tracked by an assassin, I’d rather encounter him now, at a time of my choosing, rather than his. If I go to the ruins and an assassin hunts me, he will show himself there. It’s the best place to attack—far from the colony, away from any semblance of law. Best of all he’ll believe his attack is a surprise, catching me completely off guard, but I’ll be ready. He won’t understand that I’m the one who has chosen the time and place.

Assuming he doesn’t decide to blast you with kinetic kills or other weapons from orbit, Will sent.

He’ll need to confirm the kill, Rhea said. Remember, we’ll be wearing spacesuits. From orbit, he won’t even be able to tell it’s us. He’ll have to get close.

Good point, Will admitted. But you say you’ll be ready… how prepared can you truly be, considering the location? Once he realizes our destination, he’ll drop from orbit and land directly inside the destroyed dome. Our shuttle probably won’t detect his craft, given its stealth capabilities. The ruins will give him numerous hiding places: he’ll be the one planning an ambush, not you.

He’ll still have to get close to see my face, Rhea said.

Not necessarily, Will told her. He could attack, kill all three of us, and then check your face after the fact. Something tells me he wouldn’t care if he accidentally killed the wrong targets.

While that’s true, at least I’ll have a chance of fighting back, Rhea told him. But if we leave without settling this, then my fate is entirely in the hands of a trader. An attack in the void of deep space is not something I want to repeat… I never felt so helpless as I did while aboard that ship, with the kinetic kills raining down all around us.

Wasn’t fun, Will agreed. He sat back, sighed, and gazed out the window at the baroque buildings beyond. I’ll do it. I still don’t like it, though.

Maybe no attack will come, Rhea sent. Maybe it was space pirates after all.

He glanced at her and smiled sadly. You don’t really believe that.

No. She glanced at the time and spoke aloud: “Well, we haven’t been arrested yet… if the council wanted to send security, the robots would have arrived by now.”

“Maybe they’re waiting for Horatio to come before they arrest us,” Will suggested.

Horatio arrived shortly thereafter. Security, however, remained absent.

“Guess the city doesn’t mind,” Rhea said.

“Apparently not,” Will agreed.

Rhea checked the schedules of the local charters and found several that would accept flights on short notice. Some even allowed “walk-ins.” She booked an appointment with one of the latter for half an hour from now, and then departed with Will and Horatio.

When they bounded into the space terminal, they found Peter waiting with two security robots.

“I know what you’re doing,” Peter said.

“You’ve come to stop us?” Rhea asked.

“Not at all,” Peter replied. “I’ve come to lend you a shuttle.”

“We’ve already booked with another charter company,” Rhea said.

“It’s been handled,” Peter said firmly.

Rhea glanced at Will and then shrugged. “All right. We’ll take your shuttle. How much do you want?”

“No cost,” Peter said. “Consider it a gesture of goodwill, on behalf of the Europan people. But I should warn you, if you return with any technology or weapons, such as more Ban’Shar, they will be confiscated. You ceded all rights to such tech when you signed our agreement. You are entitled to one set of Ban’Shar, and nothing else.”

“That’s fair,” Rhea said. “I’d like my Ban’Shar now, by the way. Along with all our other weapons.”

“Since you’re leaving the dome, you may collect the weapons you arrived with,” Peter said slowly. “However, since you’re not yet departing the moon entirely, I cannot allow you to take the Ban’Shar.”

“But the contract—” Rhea began.

Peter interrupted: “The provision in the contract specifically states you may have the Ban’Shar only when you board a transport headed off moon.”

She was assuming she’d have the Ban’Shar with her to face any assassins. But now she was having second thoughts…

No. I don’t need the Ban’Shar. The pistol and the X2-59 will be enough. I can do this. I will see these ruins. And if the assassin comes, I will destroy him.

She turned toward Peter and told him: “Very well.”

And so he bound-walked her to the kiosk of a charter company reserved for government officials.

“By the way, are you including suit rentals?” Will asked when they arrived.

“Of course,” Peter said.

“We’ll need the military grade ones,” Will said. “With the thin material around the hands.”

“Done,” Peter told him.

Rhea booked the flight path, and Peter approved it. After he departed, she and the others were given suit rentals, including Horatio—though the robot didn’t need the oxygen, the BNNTS built into the fabric of the suit protected Horatio’s delicate circuitry from the radiation that got past the damaged ring network.

As Will had requested, the suits were military grade; this meant that while they were generally bulky, the regions around the hands and wrists were thin, and essentially skintight, allowing them to wield their existing weaponry as if they weren’t wearing suits at all.

“You sure this was steam cleaned?” Will asked the robot assistant as he shrugged on his leg assembly. “Mine smells like FAN.”

“FAN?” the robot inquired.

“Feet, Ass, Nuts,” Will explained.

“I assure you, the suit has been thoroughly cleaned,” the robot said. “It meets all regulatory standards.”

“I’d like another, please,” Will said, lowering the assembly.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid that’s the only military grade suit available in your size,” the robot said.

Will wrinkled his nose. “Suppose there’s no such thing as a free lunch.” He shoved his legs deeper into the assembly.

Fully suited, Rhea, Will and Horatio hop-walked through a corridor to a launch bay. No customs clearance was necessary this time—perhaps because the charter company was dedicated to government officials.

In front of a small, diamond-shaped shuttle craft, two combat robots awaited, clad in spacesuits. They carried rifles strapped over the shoulders of their suits.

Rhea immediately called Peter and his hologram appeared in front of her. She shared the comm channel with Will and Horatio.

“What’s with the robots?” she asked.

“For your protection,” Peter explained.

She flashed him a fake smile. “You’re sure they’re protecting us and not guarding us?”

“A bit of both, perhaps,” Peter admitted.

She glanced at Will and transmitted mentally. They might actually prove useful, considering…

More firepower if any assassins show up, Will agreed.

She returned her attention to Peter. “Where are our weapons, by the way?”

“They’ve been stowed in the exterior baggage compartment of the shuttle,” Peter told her. “The baggage doors will unlock once you’ve landed at your destination.”

“All right,” she said. “But if we get there, and I find out you didn’t pack any of our weapons, I’m going to seize the rifles from your combat robots. Forcibly.”

“You will find your weapons,” Peter said coldly.

“What about my drone?” Will transmitted over the same channel. “I mean, I know it’s useless in the void, but I’d just like to know Giz is safe.”

“If by Giz, you mean your drone, it remains safely behind in the terminal’s monthly storage,” Peter sent.

“Good,” Will said.

Rhea disconnected the call and boarded the shuttle with her companions.

The two robots climbed aboard after them and took the seats across from the trio. Rhea looped the robots into the same comm channel she shared with Will and Horatio.

“Hello neighbors!” Will quipped.

The robots ignored him.

A few minutes later the shuttle took off.

“Well, here we go…” Will told her. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“So do I,” she sent.

8

Rhea looped the shuttle’s AI into the comm channel when they were under way.

“So,” Rhea told the AI after it joined. “Can I get access to the external cameras? I’d like to watch our approach.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not authorized to give you access to the external cameras,” the shuttle said.

“I thought we were supposed to be treated like foreign dignitaries,” Will said to no one in particular. “With all the amenities such a position entails!”

The shuttle didn’t respond.

“Guess not,” Will added.

“AI, are you able to detect if any ships or other shuttles are nearby?” she asked.

“Of course,” the shuttle replied. “Unless they are equipped with extreme stealth measures.”

“So, are there any?” she pressed.

“At the present moment no,” the AI told her.

“Not really reassuring,” Will commented.

She nodded and glanced at her HUD. “Looks like we just exceeded the signal range of the local Internet.”

“We’re on our own,” Will agreed.

“Not entirely,” the eavesdropping shuttle said. “I can still send and receive communications with Centaar. Simply not in realtime.”

“I’m assuming the lag time is only a few seconds,” Rhea said.

“That would be a correct assumption,” the shuttle replied.

She glanced at Will. “So at least if we come under attack, Centaar will know, and respond appropriately.”

“That makes me feel a little better,” Will transmitted. “But not much, considering what I deem an appropriate response likely differs from city council’s definition.”

“Are you expecting an attack?” the AI asked.

“I’m not sure what to expect anymore,” Rhea replied.

A few minutes later the shuttle touched down.

“Have you detected any other ships yet?” Rhea asked the shuttle.

“No,” it replied.

“If anything changes, let me know,” she sent.

“Assuming you remain within range, then of course,” the shuttle replied.

The shuttle’s ramp descended. She felt the vibrations pass through the deck when it touched the surface.

Rhea hopped down the ramp and emerged to find the vast, empty moonscape stretching before her. Light from the sun cast the frozen landscape in a dreary gray. The surface resembled videos of pack ice she had seen online: shelves of ice protruded from the crust at intervals, ranging in size from small crags to tall, sprawling ridges.

She could see the dots of the satellites composing the superconducting ring network ahead, forming a neat vertical stack that reached from the horizon to the top of the sky. She was keenly aware of the radiation leaking through that network: although the suits were made of BNNTS, it was generally recommended that spacewalks be limited to two hours or less to minimize exposure.

Moving off the ramp, she bound-walked to the external storage compartment, which clicked open as she arrived. As promised, their weapons awaited. Rhea sheathed her pistol into the holster at her utility belt and slid the X2-59 onto the skintight portion of the suit above her wrist. The latter weapon blended in quite well with her suit, concealing it from any watchers from afar.

Will grabbed his pistol. Horatio didn’t have an exposed weapon, as the robot’s rifles were built into its forearms, and thus covered by the spacesuit. Rifles dangling innocuously from their shoulders, the other two robots kept watch on opposite sides of the shuttle.

Rhea started to bound past the craft’s right flank when Will stopped her. “I’ll go first.”

He drew his pistol and was about to take the lead, but then Rhea had a go at interrupting him.

“Wait,” she sent, muting the shuttle AI and the accompanying combat robots, so that only Will and Horatio heard her next words. “Consider the optics. If we’re archeologists or public officials who’ve arrived to explore the ruins, would we really act like we’re expecting an ambush? If assassins are out there, we want them to believe we don’t know they’re watching. That means we leave our weapons sheathed.” She glanced at the combat robots. “Or hanging from our shoulders.”

Will hesitated. “Wouldn’t it be possible that pirates might be salvaging among the rubble? That would be excuse enough to be on guard.”

“I somehow doubt the Europans would allow pirates into their space,” Rhea said.

“And yet they allow assassins…” Will said.

Even so, he nodded behind his faceplate, then shoved the pistol back into place at his hips. He rounded the bend.

“It’s clear,” he transmitted a moment later.

Rhea was about to follow. Then:

“Before we proceed,” Horatio said on the same channel, still excluding the other robots. “I noticed you muted our two escorts before raising the possibility of potential assassins. Maybe we should loop them in? They can only help us.”

“I don’t completely trust them,” Rhea said. “They could be assassins themselves, as far as I’m concerned. Keep an eye on them.”

Without a word more, she, too, bounded past the shuttle. The ruins of the Ganymedean colony came into view.

Towers emerged from beyond the jagged edges of a partially collapsed geodesic dome. Translucent panes of glass, frosted over, covered the intact portions of the broken dome.

The skyscrapers within were covered in a thin layer of snow. Many of them were splintered, terminating in ragged, uneven edges, with rubble lying in heaps at their bases. The rest mostly stood with their windows shattered, like hollowed out husks against the starry sky.

She was filled with a sudden, intense sadness, and a loneliness like nothing she had ever felt.

Once this had been a great city. Filled with Ganymedeans. Now it was gone, and she was alone, utterly so…

No. I still have Will and Horatio. My friends.

She bounded forward, following Will, who set the pace. First foot forward. Second foot forward. One, two. One, two. Her breathing was loud in her ears, and the faceplate fogged slightly with each exhale, but the anti-fogging tech dissipated the white smudges quickly.

The helmet limited her field of view, cutting off her peripheral vision. She could see Will ahead, and a quick glance at her overhead map confirmed that the two combat robots followed her, with Horatio bringing up the rear.

She considered ordering the latter robots to the fore to act as scouts, but once again decided the optics would be better if they remained where they were.

We’re just a group of archeologists, exploring what we think are vacant ruins.

Still, she didn’t really like having them behind her, where she couldn’t see them. She’d have to trust that Horatio would watch her back.

They circumnavigated the larger crags of ice that interrupted the surface ahead and gave a ridge a wide berth. Rhea studied the top of that ridge, searching for snipers, but spotted no one.

They approached a jagged hole in the base of the dome and bounded through. At the moon’s prime, the fully functional ring network would have been enough to deflect most of Jupiter’s radiation, allowing the Ganymedeans to line their geodesic dome with specialized glass to handle the rest. Rhea couldn’t help the awe she felt when she gazed at those frosted panes overhead. The glass would have been completely translucent before the dome was punctured, kept defrosted by a variant of the technology that maintained her faceplate, allowing the citizens to gaze out upon the naked sky.

If only I had been around to see it…

Upon further consideration, she realized she had probably indeed been around.

Shards of glass from the broken dome littered the frozen ground here, buried beneath a thin layer of snow. That glass proved slippery, and Rhea had to watch where she stepped.

“So, lamps or no lamps?” Will transmitted.

“I think it would be suspicious if we didn’t turn them on…” she answered.

She and the others activated their helmet lamps, brightening the dreary landscape. The cones of illumination from their helmets had a strangely sharp quality: that made sense, considering without an atmosphere the light would not diffuse.

She paused a moment to clear some of the snow beneath her with her boot. A few centimeters deep she discovered a translucent polycarbonate coating similar to what Centaar had. She wondered if the Europans had stolen the tech from the Ganymedeans. Probably.

They passed the wreckages of vehicles and bounded by rubble fanning out from partially collapsed buildings. She spotted belongings and furniture among the debris: faded paintings, intricate cupboards, frozen tapestries, clothing.

“A salvager’s paradise,” Will commented.

The occasional mummified body protruded from the rubble. Sometimes she saw a cyborg with its metal head blown open, at other times a robot laying broken in pieces. All of them were covered in a thin layer of snow like everything else.

“Not a paradise,” Rhea said, feeling the sadness grip her all over again. “But a crypt.”

The debris became denser as they advanced, intruding well onto the roadway, and the party slowed down from a bound to shuffle. Will and Rhea had to be very careful to avoid the jagged edges of rebar and other sharp objects that protruded: it wouldn’t take much to puncture their suits. While they were all equipped with repair kits, there was a good chance the occupant would be dead before any repairs could be applied, at least in Will’s case.

Rhea observed her surroundings as she shuffled forward. She searched the blown-out windows of the buildings, scanned the rooftops, and generally looked for signs of ambushers. The helmet’s limitations on her field of view meant she had to look farther to the left and right than she ordinarily would have; that, combined with the threat of puncturing debris ahead meant she could spare less time for each glance than she would have liked.

There was also still broken glass from the buildings. It was hard to see, so she had to be careful where she placed her feet when passing a dangerous wreckage, lest she slip and impale herself.

As they continued forward, the buildings fell away entirely to the right, leaving a wide plain exposed beneath the geodesic dome, which was mostly intact overhead. The icy surface below was smooth, unblemished.

“Why no buildings here?” Will asked. “Was it a park?”

Rhea walked a short distance away from the cover of buildings and onto that plain. She kicked at the snow with the heel of her boot, clearing it. There was no polycarbonate layer coating the surface within.

“Not a park,” Rhea said. “A lake. The Ganymedeans usually allowed some of the crust to melt along the peripheries of their colonies. They liked waterfronts. Let’s turn inward. I feel exposed here.”

Will nodded and proceeded back into the cover of the buildings. Rhea was glad when the plain was behind her—out there, it would be all too easy for a sniper to target them from beyond the dome.

“We’re almost out of comm range with the shuttle,” one of the escorting robots announced.

“It’s these buildings,” Will said. “Maybe we should tell it to circle overhead and maintain communications? That way it can call the cavalry if necessary.”

Rhea considered. “Circling wouldn’t be too unexpected… archeologists often use drones and other craft to scout the ruins for them.” She glanced at the robots. “Tell the shuttle to assume a holding pattern overhead.”

“It has been done,” one of the robots replied.

Soon the shuttle circled overhead, at least according to the overhead map. She glanced up at one point and caught sight of its thumbnail-sized underside, satisfying her that it was really there.

After ten minutes they reached a plaza of sorts. It was circular, with what must have once been a fountain at the center—a broken statue resided there, surrounded by a low rim.

“So, have you seen enough yet?” Will asked.

“No, let’s press on, just a bit longer,” she replied.

“Searching for those ever-elusive memories, huh?” Will sent, muting the two Centaar robots. “All right, well, if you want to cross this square, I’d advise hugging the walls of the surrounding buildings. Or avoiding it entirely… this would be a good spot for a sniper to camp out.”

“Leave it to humans to use the term ‘square’ to describe an area that is clearly circular in nature,” Horatio transmitted.

Rhea ignored the latter remark; she was too busy scanning all the different buildings that surrounded the plaza. Instead, she answered Will’s original suggestion. “I think we can cross. But we hug the walls, as you suggested.”

Will shuffled over the debris, keeping close to the wall formed by the buildings lining the left-hand side of the plaza. Rhea followed. The two escorting robots came next, with Horatio still bringing up the rear.

She scanned the rooftops and blown-out windows past the fountain, looking for enemies. She was beginning to wonder if there was anyone out there after all. Surely any assassin would have struck by now.

Her gaze drifted to the snow-covered ruins of the fountain. The way it seemed to thrust up from the surface reminded her of the icy crags and sprawling ridges she had witnessed on the frozen plain outside the dome. She was convinced this was the moon she had seen in the flashback that had come to her on Earth, during the fight against the Hydras. She remembered sprinting across the ice beneath a starry sky, wielding some kind of dual energy weapon suspiciously similar to the Ban’Shar. The weapon in her memories started off as a pair of disks she used to defend against the plasma bolts of the attackers, exactly like the Ban’Shar. And when it came time to move on to the offense, she’d transformed those disks into deadly blades.

Yes, that fight had very likely taken place here, on Ganymede, where she had no doubt been defending against soldiers from Earth who had come to destroy her home. That meant it had happened over thirty years ago.

There was something else about that fountain. Something vaguely familiar, that she couldn’t quite place.

Another flashback came to her.

She stood next to an icy monolith. Its shape was almost identical to the snow-covered fountain, wide at the bottom, and tapering to a blunt point at the top.

The frozen ground lay beneath her feet, and she stood inside some sort of defile carved into the icy crust. Her metal body was completely exposed to the void of space, and yet somehow, she could still breathe.

Another woman stood beside her. Like Rhea’s, this woman’s face dipped into the uncanny valley, what with its all too big eyes and mouth, so she knew immediately the woman was a cyborg. Her artificial skin ended at the upper chest, and the rest of her body was metal. Around her head, Rhea caught the telltale silhouette of a glass dome, seemingly built into her cyborg body.

Rhea realized she had such a dome enclosing her head and neck too, along with the tanks necessary to supply the oxygen and pressurized atmosphere her brain required to stay alive in the void. Somehow, she knew that dome could retract as necessary when she entered an atmosphere.

She didn’t have to worry about radiation interfering with her circuitry, as this warrior body had the equivalent of BNNTS built directly into the armor. Not that the fully operational ring network in orbit was allowing any radiation to reach her, anyway.

In the last flashback she had of this moon, she had wrongly assumed she was wearing a spacesuit. It had happened so fast… she realized now that she probably hadn’t been suited up in that memory, either.

“You have come far,” the woman was saying. “You are my greatest student.”

“Thank you, Sensei,” Rhea said.

“I’m going to nominate you for the Earth mission,” the Sensei said.

“I would be honored,” Rhea said.

“You should know, there’s no coming back from it,” the woman continued. “We don’t expect anyone to return.”

Rhea looked into the woman’s eyes and saw pity there. But also, strength. Love. And a resolve to destroy their enemies, no matter the cost.

“Do you still want to go?” the Sensei pressed.

“Yes,” Rhea said. “I have sworn to protect Ganymede with my life. If it means dying on another world to save my own, then I will do it.”

“If you fail, Ganymede will likely be destroyed,” the Sensei said.

“I won’t fail,” Rhea insisted.

And then she was back in the square once more.

“Rhea?” Will was saying. “Why are you stopping?”

She didn’t answer.

“Rhea?” Will pressed.

A sickening feeling came over her. If she were human, there was a good chance she would have vomited in her suit. Instead, she staggered, and had to lean against the wall of the building beside her to support herself.

Will rushed to her and held her up. “What’s wrong?”

“I had a flashback,” she said.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I…” She muted the two combat robots so only Will and Horatio would hear.

“My greatest fear has come to pass,” she said. “I was one of those responsible for the Great Calming.”

“What?” Will said. “What are you talking about?”

“I was sent on some kind of suicide mission,” she said. “One that was meant to bring Earth to its knees, from the sounds of it.” She looked up, meeting his eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was wild. “How can I live with myself? I helped kill billions.”

“Do you have any recollection of the mission itself?” Will said. “Any memories of planting bombs on Earth?”

“No…” she admitted.

“Then you don’t know for sure you were involved,” Will said. “Your mission could have been something else entirely. Assassinating some political or military figure, disabling a power grid. Rescuing prisoners.”

“No, you didn’t hear her talk,” Rhea said. “She made it sound like this mission was vital to Ganymede. Whatever I did had to be part of the same plan… a mission meant, at the very least, to set in motion the Great Calming.”

“Maybe all you did was retrieve the blueprints of cities or other vital documents,” Will said. “Something the war planners could use to implement the Calming.”

“Then I still contributed indirectly,” Rhea said.

“Yes, but my point is, maybe you didn’t know what your bosses were going to do with it,” Will said. “Who knows, there’s a chance you didn’t even go at all. You could have backed out at the last minute. Or grown ill or something.”

His words calmed her. She still wasn’t convinced he was right, but she nodded anyway. “I suppose anything is possible.”

“Good, so stop beating yourself up about something you don’t even recall,” he said. “You could be misremembering, too, by the way. Mind wipes can do strange things to the brain. If any memories manage to survive, they can get mangled, mixed up. As far as you’re concerned, you could be remembering the gameplay from some fully immersive VR game set during the Ganymede war. Who knows, maybe they’re even false memories, imprinted by whoever wiped your mind.”

Will had sown enough seeds of doubt that Rhea no longer felt completely devoured by guilt. It was still there, of course, but she promised herself not to think about it too much. The notion was just too painful.

I couldn’t have done it. I couldn’t have.

And yet, she knew it was entirely possible that she had been instrumental in the attack.

She shook her head.

Don’t dwell upon the unthinkable.

She was starting to understand what Will had been trying to tell her all along: it was probably for the best that her mind was wiped. The past was often best forgotten.

She had to wonder if she was the one who had ordered the mind wipe: after all, if it was true what she’d done, she didn’t think she would be able to live with the pain of killing all those people.

Imagine that, I wiped my mind to forget, yet accidentally left myself enough clues to remember what I’d done, if I followed the trail obsessively enough. Next time I’ll have to be more thorough and order the technician to wipe everything, to prevent even those last clues from remaining. This means clearing out my language abilities, my muscle memory. Everything.

She considered what would be left of her if she did that. She’d probably be reduced to the state of a slobbering infant.

Several flashes of blue light came from her right, from somewhere across the square.

Rhea dropped instantly, or rather as fast as the lesser gravity allowed, and ducked behind the closest pile of rubble. Will joined her. The two of them immediately deactivated their headlamps, so as not to give away their positions, and drew the pistols from their holsters.

A fragment broke away from the building behind her and landed on the ground. She glanced up at the building, and saw a deep borehole carved into the surface where she had been standing only a moment before.

She glanced to her right, toward her remaining companions.

The two combat robots were reduced to smoldering piles of slag. Their weapons had been rendered useless, having melted to their frames along with the spacesuits.

Horatio, meanwhile, had dived behind the wreckage of a vehicle in time. He, too, had turned off his headlamp.

More plasma fire erupted, traveling upward. Rhea realized their attacker was chasing off the shuttle.

Sure enough, on the overhead map the shuttle’s icon ripped westward until it froze, indicating the craft had passed beyond communications range.

“We got a sniper,” Will announced needlessly.

9

Rhea ducked lower and glanced at Will.

“At least our friend hasn’t ID’d you,” he said. “Otherwise, you would have been the first to go down.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rhea said. “Some assassins like to toy with their prey.” She thought of the Scorpion, and how he wanted to make sure Rhea knew who it was who had come to kill her.

“You think it’s the Scorpion?” he asked, reading her mind.

“Could be,” she replied.

“I think our attacker targeted the robots simply because they were the most obviously armed,” Horatio said. “Think about it. If you were a sniper, scanning for your target, and couldn’t make an ID, wouldn’t you destroy the two biggest threats to you first?”

“Do we have a location?” Rhea said.

“I’m reviewing the footage of the attack, and the follow-up against the shuttle, now,” Horatio said. “There. I’ve got him.”

Rhea received a share request. When she accepted, a flashing waypoint appeared on her overhead map. She glanced toward the building indicated by the waypoint. It was mostly concealed by the debris, but according to the flashing icon that overlaid her vision, their attacker resided inside a window close to the upper levels.

“You think he’s still in that same spot?” Rhea asked.

“Why would he move?” Will said. “He has us pinned.”

“Someone’s got to get up there,” Rhea said. “Flush him out.”

“Cover me,” Horatio said.

Rhea glanced at Will, and the man nodded behind his faceplate.

She partially arose and swung her pistol toward the waypoint indicated on the upper window. She zoomed in slightly and spotted the gray silhouette of what could have been a head.

She opened fire. Will released plasma bolts from his pistol as well.

The gray form ducked from view.

At the same time Horatio got up and dashed to the row of buildings immediately behind. “I’m headed for the rooftops. Shutting down comms to reduce the chance of discovery.”

The robot ducked inside one of the open doors.

Rhea continued to fire at the same spot with Will; as she did so, she spotted very subtle motion in the adjacent window, two meters from her target. Seeing that motion saved her.

“He’s moved!” She ducked as she said the words, and a plasma bolt tore through the air just above her.

She quickly relocated, crawling to another section of the rubble, which was piled higher; meanwhile more plasma bolts ripped into the debris behind her. Will also changed positions, and momentarily peered past his own cover to return fire.

Rhea joined in.

What followed was a tense standoff with both parties switching positions after every volley, and neither side gaining the upper hand. But the point was merely to distract their enemy and buy Horatio time.

The assassin must have been wondering where the third surviving member of the group lurked and would be on the lookout for an attack from behind. It was Will and Rhea’s job to keep their enemy distracted long enough for Horatio to effect that rearward strike.

And then, finally, plasma fire appeared from the current window that housed their attacker. It didn’t target Will and Rhea, but instead traveled horizontally across the plaza, striking the opposite building.

A large form leaped from that same window and vanished from view, landing somewhere in the dim square below. Horatio appeared in the broken window frame. He was firing downward, activating the plasma rifles built into his forearms and shooting right through the fabric of his suit.

The robot reactivated his communications and rejoined the comm channel.

“I’ve got him pinned next to the fountain,” Horatio said. “I’d suggest splitting up and coming at him from the left and right flanks.”

“Any idea who he is?” Rhea asked.

“I believe it’s the Scorpion,” Horatio replied. “But he’s been augmented since our last encounter.”

“Yet again,” Rhea commented.

More bolts came from Horatio, but the robot ducked from view as plasma fire was returned from somewhere on the far side of the fountain.

Rhea and Will quickly spread out and approached the fountain at a crouch from opposite sides. Rhea sort of waddled back and forth as she moved, the crouch position proving awkward in that lower gravity.

A highlight appeared on her HUD, and she realized Horatio had marked the target. A red dot also appeared on the overhead map, giving her the precise position in relation to herself.

She reached the rightmost rim of the fountain and continued forward, slowing down as she rounded the bend. Her target was just ahead.

If she had been human, her heart would’ve been pounding in her chest at that moment. As it was, her breathing came so rapidly the sound of it nearly consumed her hearing within the helmet.

Before she sighted her target, a long metallic tail jutted upward. The tip was pointed toward her.

She threw herself backward.

Plasma bolts erupted from the tail, smashing into the ground just in front of her, melting big holes in the ice.

“Careful!” Horatio sent.

Horatio fired down at that tail, which buckled under the impacts; it quickly withdrew from her view.

Rhea was trying to think on how best to approach, when a large shape leaped into the air, arcing over her. Rhea saw the silhouette of the Scorpion against the stars overhead. He was just as big as the last time she’d encountered him, except this time he had two tails protruding from his tailbone, instead of one. That was the augmentation Horatio had been referring to.

Both of those tails were pointed directly at her…

Rhea scrambled to her feet and began randomly zigzagging as she bounded away. Plasma bolts bit into the ground all around her. Ice fragments produced by the impacts traveled higher than they would have under ordinary gravity, and the shards peppered the air all around her, pelting her suit like hail.

This continued for what seemed an eternity, but in reality, only seconds could have passed.

And then the attacks ceased.

“Shot out both of his tail tips,” Will said. “That was a bad move, strategy wise, to expose himself like that. Guess he thought it was worth the risk for a quick chance of taking you out.”

Rhea risked a glance behind her and watched the Scorpion land on a nearby rooftop with a loud thud. The assassin ducked from view.

“That’ll be the last of his plasma weaponry, then,” Horatio said. “I eliminated the rifles he had attached to his arms. He has only brute strength left now.”

“Brute strength?” Rhea broke into a run and headed toward the building the Scorpion had landed on. It was only three stories tall: easy enough for her to surmount with a single leap in the diminished gravity. “I can handle brute strength.”

“Dude, wait for us!” Will said.

“I’m not letting him get away this time!” She switched the pistol to her left hand and activated the X2-59 in her right. The blade erupted and the electrolasers engaged, causing electricity to spark all around it. The weapon cast a flickering blue light over her body.

“I’m a Ganymedean warrior. I can face him.” She took a running leap…

Her body arced upward with a momentum that made her feel truly powerful, and she passed over the rim of the roof beneath her and landed relatively hard. The impact produced no sound of course, but vibrations would have traveled outward across the surface.

Ahead of her, the Scorpion was indeed fleeing. His hulking figure reached the far side of the rooftop, but he looked over his shoulder and paused when he saw that it was just Rhea who had arrived to confront him. He smiled, baring his white, glistening artificial teeth.

He wasn’t wearing an environmental suit of any kind, which meant either he was holding his breath, or his body had an internal oxygen tank installed somewhere. Given how long he had likely been hiding inside the ruined colony, only the latter made any sense.

He had marks in his chest where Horatio’s energy bolts had struck. Mostly glancing blows, from the look of it. Though there was one solid impact in the upper left of his torso, where a bolt had partially melted through to the circuitry beyond, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.

His two tails swayed back and forth hypnotically.

And then he broke into a run, intent on closing the distance. Alone on the rooftop like that, she was too tempting a target to resist.

Rhea opened fire with her pistol. It had been somewhat of a mistake to switch the weapon to her left hand so early, as she had trained mostly with the right. Her first few shots missed their mark badly, but after the fourth she began to score glancing impacts. It didn’t help that the Scorpion zig-zagged back and forth, making tracking difficult, his movements a blur. The lower gravity only worsened the situation, allowing him to bound two strides for every one step.

And then he was upon her. The blunt tip of one of those tails slammed into her left hand, knocking the pistol free.

Rhea brought down her X2-59, slicing through part of the tail, but not severing it entirely. However, the blow was enough for the appendage to drop limp to the rooftop.

But the other tail was already coming in upon her.

Rhea wasn’t able to raise her blade in time and the metal slammed into her side. She flew into the air, the lower gravity causing her to vault across two entire roofs before landing on top of another building that bordered the square. She hit face down and slipped across the entire surface of that flat roof before skidding to a halt next to the far edge.

Her side throbbed with pain. Definitely some damage to her metal exoskeleton there. She was amazed that the blow hadn’t punctured her suit.

She turned over and started to get up, but then a black silhouette blotted out the stars above her.

She rolled away as the Scorpion arced down. He crashed hard into the rooftop where she had resided only moments before; cracks spidered outward from the impact zone, even though the gravity was one-seventh that of Earth’s.

Rhea leaped at him, slicing downward with her X2-59. But she was hit by the remaining operational tail, and her blade skidded harmlessly off the edge of her opponent’s leg. The blow sent her slamming backward onto the roof, and she slid across the icy surface, crashing into the low wall that lined the edge. Once again her suit remained unpunctured.

It can’t take much more of this punishment. Nor can I, for that matter.

“Will,” she sent. “You were right. Help!”

“Coming,” Will replied.

The Scorpion advanced, taking slow, bounding steps, dragging the dead weight of his damaged tail behind him. The good tail remained posed above him, just as deadly despite the fact it could no longer shoot plasma. He was still smirking sickeningly.

Rhea clambered to her feet. Her left arm was hard to move, and the elbow servomotor whirred loudly in complaint inside the suit. Pain in her upper chest signaled potential damage to her armor there.

She backed away slowly along the edge of the wall, shuffling her feet, keeping the X2-59 held defensively in front of her. The reach was too short against that tail.

“Will!” she sent.

The Scorpion’s tail came striking down once more, a lethal stinger aimed at her face. Rhea dodged to the side and swung.

But the Scorpion was already leaping backward, withdrawing his tail at the same time, so that the appendage retreated in a blur. Rhea’s blade cut only empty space.

She turned around, bounded to the edge of the rooftop, and leaped off. But something struck her ankle as she left the ground and spun her sideways into the air.

As she spiraled across to the next rooftop, she caught sight of the Scorpion, vaulting across directly behind her. He’d struck her with his tail once again. In his hands he held a large fragment of rock, perhaps ripped from the wall of the previous rooftop. He threw it at her.

The Scorpion timed the throw just right, so that as her body continued to spin, she rotated right into the path of that rock, and it slammed into her face, jerking her head backward. She felt a mixture of sensations then: an intense cold that chilled her face to the underlying metal; a stab of sheer agony, courtesy of the fragment, which crushed her nose before bouncing away; gentler pricks of pain, from the pieces of glass digging into her cheeks.

An alarm flashed on her HUD.

Warning, suit integrity failure. Pressurization loss. Warning, suit integrity failure.

She held her breath. If she were human, she would be dead now.

But she was cyborg.

She landed on her belly on the adjacent rooftop and spun around to meet the Scorpion with her blade. The assassin had meant to crush her with his two feet, but he spread them wide to avoid the X2-59 then, doing the splits in midair. He slammed his tail into the ground next to Rhea, using it to halt his momentum.

Rhea swung at the base of that tail, cutting into it just as the Scorpion shoved off. She severed the tip.

The Scorpion reached down and ripped away two more fragments from the roof and tossed them at her. She dodged them easily.

He backed away, ripping away more pieces. He didn’t throw them. Not yet.

She realized he was stalling. Waiting for her. He could afford to.

He knew that while Rhea’s artificial face and body would protect her brain from the effects of the void, she would only be able to hold her breath for so long. Since she didn’t have a full body to oxygenate, but “merely” a brain, she could last a lot longer without air than an ordinary human. Somewhere between five to ten minutes. However, she’d still have to fix her helmet. The repair kit didn’t really have anything to deal with the loss of an entire faceplate, but she’d deal with that later.

For the moment, she had to defeat the Scorpion. And quickly.

She bounded at him, using the X2-59 to deflect the rocks he threw at her.

That tail struck out, but she leaped acrobatically to the side and past it, using a muscle memory she didn’t know she had. A memory that knew precisely how to position her center of mass to optimal effect in the lesser gravity. At the same time, she swung at the tail, striking it with a glancing blow. She withdrew the blade, bringing it forward once more. She landed, and immediately leaped toward the Scorpion, closing the gap, stabbing at her enemy’s face.

But the Scorpion was ready. He pulled his head to the side and the blow missed its target, cutting a gash only a few centimeters deep into his cheek.

He grabbed her out of the air with one arm and threw her forcibly to the ground. He pinned her torso with one massive foot, and her X2-59 arm with the other. Grinning triumphantly, he crouched very low, and drew back one hand, forming a fist that, when it struck, would collapse her face and drive right through into her underlying brain.

He had won.

10

Rhea stared at that fist and waited for death to come. She never thought the journey would end this way.

Then again, no one ever really expected the end when it finally came.

Strangely, she smiled, welcoming it.

That made the Scorpion pause. His hand drooped slightly, and he tilted his head as if confused; the smirk dropped from his lips, and it was replaced with anger as he gritted his teeth and drew back his fist with renewed alacrity.

“I’m going to kill you, you little bitch,” those eyes said.

Plasma bolts slammed into his face and arm and he staggered sideways without throwing the punch. He stumbled off of Rhea, releasing her, and spun away, lifting his tail toward the source of the blasts to shield himself.

Rhea rolled to her knees and chanced a glance to her right. It was Horatio. The robot frenetically fired those forearm rifles through its spacesuit.

X2-59 held high, she rushed the distracted assassin.

But the Scorpion had retreated to the edge of the building, and before she arrived, he leaped over.

She reached the rooftop’s rim and watched him crash through a window partway down the adjacent building. The assassin vanished within, leaving behind an enlarged window frame in his wake, the outline of his body broken into the surrounding cement.

Watch the street, she sent Horatio and Will mentally. I’ll flush him out.

Be careful. The robot also responded over a mental channel, because the speakers in her helmet wouldn’t operate without an atmosphere to transmit through.

Rhea retreated a few bounding paces, then took a running leap over the edge in pursuit.

She arced through the air and landed on the broken windowsill. She swept her blade inside, first to the left, and then the right, confirming that the Scorpion wasn’t lurking somewhere within to ambush her.

She proceeded inside, using the light from her X2-59 to see by. She augmented the glow with LIDAR, and white wireframes overlaid her vision, outlining the objects in the room. It looked like a bedroom.

She hurried to the hallway and checked the left side. Motion drew her gaze to the right, and she caught a glimpse of a hulking form as it ducked from view down another hall.

She bounded to the remains of a freshly broken door, and slowly peered past the right side, beyond which her target had vanished. In the tall hallway, a chandelier swayed to and fro, indicating the very recent passage of something big. A door on the far side of the hall slowly creaked closed.

Rhea took several bounding steps to that door, quickly reaching it. She kicked it open before it could shut completely and revealed a stairwell beyond.

She heard a thud from upstairs.

She vaulted up the steps, taking the entire flight in two bounds. At the landing, the steps turned back, and she similarly surmounted the next flight.

At the top, the door had been kicked off its hinges.

She peered past, checking both sides with her blade, and then slowly emerged. A window was broken not far from her on the left, which offered a view of the street below.

She rushed to the window and peered down. There was no sign of her enemy below. No hulking body. No footsteps in the snow.

She deactivated LIDAR, since it wasn’t needed, and glanced upward. She spotted the tip of a tail swaying on the rooftop she had only just left. She realized the Scorpion had doubled back to come at Horatio from behind. Though that tail swayed, it remained in the same general area, as if the Scorpion was pinning someone, and preparing to deal with them in a similar manner as he had planned with Rhea.

Horatio!

She had held her breath through all of this, and it was in that moment her vision decided to grow darker, slowly turning tunnel-like. She was becoming hypoxic. She needed oxygen.

Just a bit longer…

She pulled herself onto the window, but the angle was bad for an immediate leap onto the roof, so Rhea retracted the X2-59, and scrambled up the exterior of the building. It wasn’t difficult, since the Scorpion had left hand and footholds crushed into the surface for her. She quickly reached the rooftop and spotted the Scorpion on the opposite roof, his back to her. Horatio was pinned beneath him.

Gritting her teeth, she retreated, and took a running leap, arcing high into the air.

She came plummeting down toward the Scorpion. She activated her X2-59 again, and the glowing blade thrust forth. Its light must have given her away, because the Scorpion rolled to the side before she could strike, releasing Horatio to get out of the way.

She landed harmlessly beside the robot, and immediately saw the damage the Scorpion had inflicted: he had bent back Horatio’s forearms, rendering the built-in rifles inoperative.

She spun toward the Scorpion, who slowly backed away. The tunnel enclosing her vision had increased to consume half her perspective by then, so that all peripheral sight was lost. Everything remaining seemed murky, covered in a layer of black fog. She was forced to activate her LIDAR, but even that seem somehow less substantial, the white lines faint.

The Scorpion continued to retreat: the inert tail dragged along the rooftop before him, leaving a trail in the snow, while his working tail swayed back and forth patiently.

Then he stopped and remained still.

He was obviously waiting for her to come to him once again. He knew she was close to blacking out: the usage of LIDAR on a relatively well-lit rooftop must have given it away.

Horatio stood, and sent a mental message. I’ll try to distract him. His voice sounded distant.

Rhea couldn’t muster a response. The words wouldn’t come.

The robot started forward at a slow shuffle, which became a rapid bound. Horatio raced directly for the Scorpion, and at the last moment leaped up and over the assassin. The enemy spun to follow Horatio’s arcing vault, and that tail stabbed upward; Horatio twisted to one side, but was still hit, his body contorting as he was thrown even higher.

Two words filled Rhea’s mind.

Strike now.

Her vision had almost failed her entirely, but she bounded forward anyway. At least her body wasn’t any weaker: her artificial muscles relied upon electricity for energy, not oxygen, ATP, or glucose.

Operating mostly on instinct and muscle memory, she leaped at the distracted Scorpion. She focused her failing mind on her objective, and the lone stratagem that had come to her in these, her final moments. She couldn’t help but grin.

If she was going to die, she was going to bring the Scorpion with her.

The assassin’s head tilted toward her as she hurtled through the air at him, and the moment he met her eyes, she activated her headlamps at their maximum brightness. She had maybe half a second of blindness to work with before his light autogating circuitry kicked in, but that was all she needed to slip through his defenses.

She twisted her body upward, drawing in her arms and legs to alter her center of mass, once again instinctively knowing how to utilize the lighter gravity of Ganymede to her advantage. The change caused her to spin.

As she continued toward him, her body spiraling like a bullet, she slid the X2-59 before her so it led the way. She centered the small tunnel that remained of her vision over the tip of the blade and aligned it with her target.

The spinning weapon slammed into the Scorpion’s face, just beneath the right eye, and she felt the momentary resistance as the thick armor opposed the weapon. But then the plasma-enveloped blade slid through, passing into the brain within. But it stopped after traveling only twenty more centimeters, checked this time by the inner portion of the brain case at the back of his skull.

The weapon jolted in her hands, passing the impact up into her arm and torso. Momentum carried her forward, and the base of the lodged blade broke away. She plowed into the Scorpion, and her body crumpled around his face and chest before bouncing away. She landed hard on the snowy roof before him.

She looked up, and through her tunnel vision, watched with satisfaction as the Scorpion staggered backward. From his eye, the blade protruded, bent, broken, and no longer glowing. He finally collapsed, and she felt the rooftop shake when he hit.

Her vision was fast fading. She let her own head drop and closed her eyes.

Rhea! came Will’s voice in her head.

She opened her eyelids a crack, and saw a dim form emerge from the rooftop stairwell shed.

In moments he was kneeling before her.

Rhea hang on! He lifted her into his arms and fumbled with something on his suit. A moment later he shoved an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. He pressed it hard, sealing the edges.

Breathe, Rhea, breathe, Will sent.

Rhea did so, taking a deep inhale. He shifted again. She felt something wet on her cold face. Fluttering her eyes open, she realized he was spraying expanding foam from the suit repair kit around the edges of the mask. The foam quickly expanded and dried, securing the mask to her face.

As vision and cognizance returned to her, she sat up. A tube from the mask ran down to his suit. He would have to carefully regulate the O2 release for her cyborg body, since the pressurized air was designed to be released into a suit, not directly into the delicate machinery composing her air extraction unit.

How are you feeling? Will asked mentally.

Good, she replied with a grateful smile. Thanks to you. Horatio?

She searched the rooftop for the robot. The mask and the solidified foam that held it blocked the lower half of her vision, so she had to tilt her head forward slightly to look over it.

He’s all right, Will sent. He landed on the street below. A bit beat up, but nothing I can’t fix.

Her eyes alighted on the Scorpion, and she stood. Will offered his shoulder as a crutch, but she waved him off. My legs aren’t damaged.

Guess I thought you’d be wobbly after what happened, he sent.

She nodded and bounded toward the Scorpion. She moved slowly, so that Will, tethered to her by the O2 line, could stay close. It would not be a good idea to snap that line.

When she reached the Scorpion, her enemy’s chin tilted upward slightly, and his left eye opened to gaze upon her. His right eye remained sealed shut, courtesy of the broken blade lodged underneath.

She received a comm signal.

It was from the Scorpion.

She accepted.

You’ve won, Dagger. I lay dying before you. My brain injured. Hemorrhaging. I have moments to live. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

What I wanted? she returned. I only wanted to be left alone. It didn’t have to end this way. You forced my hand, Sebastian. When he didn’t answer, she asked: Why do you call me Dagger?

It doesn’t matter, he replied. It is from a time even I have forgotten. You want Veil, am I right?

She nodded slowly. You will betray your master to me?

It’s not a betrayal, he said. Veil left specific instructions. If I were to fall, my last words were to guide you to the Scourge of the North. You will find Veil on Earth. Here.

She received a share request, which she routed through to Will so that he could scan it for viruses.

Will sent her a mental message. I’ve got coordinates to a location thirty kilometers to the northeast of Aradne. The Emerald Highlands.

You will find Veil there, the Scorpion said. She will be waiting for you.

With that, the signal disconnected, and her arch enemy closed his eyes.

Will leaned on the broken sword with the heel of one boot and jiggled it around.

What are you doing? Rhea asked.

Remember what happened the last time we left him like this? Will explained. Lying there, presumed dead? He came back. Well, I’m just making sure he’s not going to do that.

Flashing lights drew her attention to the southern side of the city, where a swarm of police shuttles from Centaar flew through the damaged geodesic dome.

“As usual, the cavalry arrives when the fighting has already ended,” Will remarked. He gave the embedded blade one last kick, and then stepped away from the Scorpion.

Rhea turned toward the shuttles. She was relieved, because she had only just been wondering how she and her companions were going to return to the city.

Rhea raised a hand and waved.

11

Rhea resided in the back of a police shuttle with Will and Horatio. Because of the damage the robot had taken, Horatio was unable to sit, and Rhea and Will had to rest their friend’s twisted form on the cabin floor.

The craft was carrying them back to Centaar. It was pressurized, but Rhea kept the mask on her face as a safety precaution. Still, the atmosphere meant they could communicate over a vocal channel again, rather than mental. And Will did just that:

“You think the police shuttles will find Monkey Boy’s stealth craft?” he asked.

Rhea nodded. “Eventually.” The mask muffled her voice somewhat, so she transmitted her words at the same time.

“Too bad we can’t stake some claim on it,” Will said.

“A ship like that would be useful,” she agreed. “Though I have a feeling it would have room for only one passenger, who would have to remain seated for the duration of the voyage. We’re talking weeks at a time. Not something a human would take very well to.”

“No, I suppose not,” Will said.

She glanced at Horatio. “How are you doing?”

“I’ve disabled most of my external senses,” Horatio said. “Because let’s admit it, having your body twisted into a pretzel doesn’t feel very good.”

“No, I suppose not.” She instinctively glanced at her left arm, which hung lifelessly at her side. Horatio wasn’t the only one who needed repairs. But they would come soon enough.

She glanced at Will. “So, what do we know about these ‘Emerald Highlands?’”

“Can’t you forget about that for now?” he replied. “You just survived an assassination attempt that nearly killed you. Chill for a while, Dude.”

She turned her head toward her other companion. “Horatio, what do we know?”

Will sighed. He was the one who answered. “I’ve checked my offline map data. Apparently these Emerald Highlands are known for the vast cave system they house. It was once a precious gem mine, but apparently fell into disuse after the Great Calming. No one really goes there anymore, mostly because it’s a known bioweapon haunt.”

“Known?” She arched an eyebrow. “Known how? You mean from the crowdsourced sites that track bioweapon locations in the Outlands, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” he admitted.

“The Black Hands, Veil’s minions, have been known to manipulate these crowdsourcing sites,” she said. “Opportunistically redirecting vulnerable air traffic their way, so that they can shoot down innocent travelers. There’s no reason why the Black Hands couldn’t similarly manipulate the crowdsourcing data to keep travelers away from certain locations as well. Like their den.”

“Very true,” Will agreed. “There might be no bioweapons lurking in the Emerald Highlands. Or there might be an entire army of them. Veil could have chosen the location precisely because of the bioweapons. Maybe she intends to kill you with them. Or use them as a distraction in some way.”

“We just won’t know until we arrive, will we?” Rhea said.

“You’re really intent on going, aren’t you?” Will said.

“If I don’t, I’ll be hunted my entire life,” Rhea said. “Veil sent an assassin halfway across the solar system to kill me. More will come, eventually. There’s no hiding. When we return to Earth, we’re not going to linger in Rust Town. We’re going to head directly to the viper’s nest.” She sat back. “Until then, I can ‘chill,’ as you say.”

* * *

Will didn’t have the parts on hand to repair their damaged armor and servomotors, but the Centaar government was more than happy to contribute, and at no cost—they just wanted Rhea, this draw for assassins across the solar system, to leave.

With these parts, Will fixed her arm, and restored her armor to tiptop condition. He also hammered Horatio’s body back into shape and was able to restore the robot’s forearm rifles to working order. However, Will didn’t have the tools and materials necessary to repair her X2-59.

“It’s a damn shame,” he said when he revealed the news. “Considering all the work it took to pull that damn blade from Monkey Boy’s head.”

“It’s just as well,” Rhea told him. “I plan to use the Ban’Shar as my preferred weapon going forward. Don’t worry, you can still sell the blade as salvage.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I intend to, don’t you worry. What did you think I was talking about? Giving it back to you? Ha. I can charge a very profitable price on this moon, considering how rare the materials are here. I would have gotten an even better price if I could repair it, but alas it’s simply not to be.”

“Wait until you get to Earth?” she suggested.

“Yeah, but then I have to have it shipped back here, negating any profits from the sale,” he told her.

“Then sell it on Earth…” she said.

He crossed his arms. “Where it’s worth a pittance? Nope. Going to unload it here. My little reward for sticking with you through thick and thin.”

“You deserve a far bigger reward than that,” she said.

“And don’t you forget it,” Will agreed.

The next week passed without incident. It helped, she supposed, that she stayed mostly inside the short-term rental and rarely ventured out, especially not beyond the dome. She was trying to keep a low profile until Targon arrived.

Will had the usual parade of beautiful women bounding up to his room. Rhea complained that any one of those women could be an assassin, to which he scoffed: “Yeah, assassins are going to use a dating app and flirt with me, right? Sure. Trust me, I screen them extensively. If they’re putting on an act, or catfishing me, I can tell. Only a select few make it through to the in-person meet. Are you sure this little hissy fit of yours isn’t out of jealousy?”

“Please,” Rhea said. “And I’d hardly call questioning whether or not it was appropriate to allow random people into one’s apartment a hissy fit, especially considering our current circumstances.”

“They’re not random,” Will insisted. “Like I said, I screen them. They have to chat with me holographically, and then I send a remote drone to check them out, before I invite them up.”

Rhea didn’t bring it up again. She did keep an eye on every one of the women, but none turned out to be assassins. She had to wonder if jealousy indeed played a part. Somehow, she doubted it.

She rented a small drone and spent most of her days exploring the city remotely. She also chartered drones to remotely explore some of the lost Ganymede domes for her, and had the footage transmitted to her when the machines returned. None of these explorations triggered another flashback, however, which was too bad. She supposed that the ruins, and even Centaar, were too unlike the memories she had: the moon she had once known, and the civilization that had once populated it, were long dead.

I’m a relic of the past, too.

She sometimes wondered why she lived, and her people had died. She still wasn’t entirely convinced that she was the only one, as Will claimed, and hoped one day she would be able to find more like her.

Targon and the Molly Dook arrived, and she boarded for the long flight back to Earth.

“So how was your visit?” Targon asked over the com as he took the vessel into orbit.

“Fine,” Rhea answered anxiously. She was worried that more assassins would attack as they achieved escape velocity, but all remained quiet during the launch.

She was strapped into the cargo bay, secured to her sleeping bag. Will had taken his usual spot on the overhead, while Horatio had the right bulkhead. They were all wearing their spacesuit rentals to protect against the gas giant’s radiation. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was necessary.

She lay back, resigning herself to the voyage. She was going to have to get used to another two weeks of weightlessness.

An hour after takeoff Targon jetted inside, garbed in a bulky spacesuit like the others. He transmitted: “So, me hearties, we’ve departed Ganymede. We’re using Jupiter’s gravity to slingshot into an Earthbound trajectory, we are. It’ll take a couple days until the Molly Dook can slip beyond the influence of her gravity, and to clear the radiation belts, so I’m going to have to ask that ye keep your suits on.”

“Got a patch this time,” Will said, patting his bicep.

“Well that’s a good lad,” Targon said. “A man after me own heart.” He glanced at Rhea. “So, when are ye going to tell me about your visit, Warden? Don’t be keeping me in suspense like this.”

She sighed. “It was… uneventful.”

“Bull shark!” Targon said. “Wherever the Warden goes, something is bound to happen. She has a way of drawing attention, both good and bad. I checked the news reports after I returned. A police swarm was called to investigate a disturbance in the old Ganymedean domes. Apparently a tourist was attacked by some pirate or other. Something tells me that tourist was you.”

“You got me,” she said.

He narrowed his eye. “What are you hiding, Warden?”

“It’s really not something you need to worry about,” she told him.

“It is if it endangers me ship,” he said. “Was the attack related to the bombardment we received on the way to the moon?”

She glanced at Will. “I suppose he deserves to know.” She returned her attention to Targon. “It wasn’t a pirate.”

“Not a pirate?” Targon said. “Then who the bloody blazes was it?”

“An assassin,” she said. “Dispatched by someone who wants me very dead.”

“An assassin?” Targon said. “Ye could have told me this before, as in, before we left bloody Earth! I probably wouldn’t have picked ye up in the first place, if I knew an assassin would follow ye all the way from Earth to Ganymede!”

“I didn’t think my enemies would follow me into space either,” she told the merchant. “You have to trust me; I wouldn’t have willingly endangered your ship. I wasn’t aware of the resources my enemy had at his command.”

“Why didn’t ye tell me after the first attack?” Targon asked.

“I wasn’t really certain at that point,” she replied. “It could have been space pirates, and I didn’t want to alarm you. I only knew for sure after the attack came on Ganymede.”

Targon tried to touch his chin, but his gloved hand hit the glass faceplate in front of it. “This is bad. I’m going to have to keep a wary eye out for the rest of the journey, wasting precious fuel to constantly scan the immediate environment. Active scanning doesn’t come cheap, ye know.”

“Do we have enough fuel to make it back?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “But just barely. Bringing ye to Ganymede is proving to be a far costlier endeavor than I originally imagined.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” she said. “I’ll get the Wardenites to make a donation.”

“No,” he said. “The journey is still free, Warden. I’m not gonna go back on me word, unlike most people would. Just be… more forthcoming in the future, if ye can, please.”

“I will, and I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to bring your ship into danger. I know how much it’s worth to you.”

He nodded. “My life savings are in this vessel.”

“Come on,” Will said. “This is the most adventure you’ve had since you streamed video games for a living. Admit it. And besides, you’re going to profit from having us aboard. You can’t tell me you’re not recording all of this, so you can broadcast it when you get back to Earth? You’re going to make money from this journey in more ways than one.”

Targon seemed taken aback at first, then outraged. “What? I wouldn’t dare!”

“Oh really?” Will said. “Horatio, tell him.”

“We found your hidden cameras a while ago,” Horatio said. “During the initial trip. The constant stream of data packets was a dead giveaway.”

“Okay, fine,” Targon stammered. “I might be doing some recording, yes. But it’s my ship. I’m allowed to do what I want aboard.”

Rhea smiled. “There are privacy laws—”

“Which don’t apply in interplanetary space!” Targon finished.

“Actually, it might not be a bad idea to let him broadcast our adventures,” Horatio said. “It will show another side of you to your fans. A more personable, human side. It will help them understand you. Plus, it can only help to grow your following. Once your fanbase becomes big enough, perhaps we’ll be able to get your accounts restored on the major streaming networks.”

“Yes, it will increase her legend!” Targon agreed. “The Warden, who was pursued by assassins to Ganymede, only to singlehandedly defeat them in close combat in the ruins of a lost dome.”

“Not singlehandedly,” Horatio said.

“Horatio is right,” Rhea agreed. “I couldn’t have done it without my friends. Nor you.”

Targon beamed at that. “So I have your permission to stream all of this when I get back? I’d like to add live commentary.”

“Of course,” Rhea said.

“Can I also get the footage you recorded of your fight on Ganymede?” Targon asked.

She hesitated, and glanced at Horatio, then Will.

“Don’t look at us,” Will said. “Has to be up to you.”

She considered a moment longer, then: “Considering all the trouble we’ve put you through, yes. You can have the footage.”

“Excellent!” Targon said. “Then you’ll agree to sign this contract…”

Rhea received the share request and accepted the document. She read it through. It seemed a standard boilerplate agreement, allowing Targon to use any and all footage he recorded while her and her companions were aboard. It also gave him nonexclusive rights to rebroadcast any video she shared with him.

She signed it.

“Thank ye kindly,” Targon said.

“You were pretending to be far more outraged a few moments ago than you really were, because you thought it would help you convince her to sign the contract, didn’t you?” Will said.

“Maybe,” Targon admitted. “Hey. Anyone up for a game of Robot Wars with yours truly? I’d like to get a few more segments recorded.”

“Of you beating the Warden…” Will said drily.

“That’s right!” Targon admitted.

Rhea chuckled softly. “We’ll play you, Merchant.”

Targon beamed. “I’ll set up the lobby.”

12

Time passed slowly in the transport.

On the second day, Rhea found herself growing impatient—she was eager to try the Ban’Shar, and she refused to wait until they reached Earth before doing so. And so she woke up early that morning and fetched the weapon from the crate that harbored it. Will and Horatio grudgingly helped clear a space for her to practice.

“This is a bad idea,” Will said. “And remember, you’re giving Targon free hidden camera footage. Plus, I doubt he’ll be happy when he finds out. There’s a rule: never shoot a weapon aboard a starship. I think that applies to your disk generator thingies. Even more so.”

She shrugged, secured her boots to the deck via a strap, then activated the Ban’Shar. The plasma disks erupted from the metal knuckles, painting the nearby bulkheads and crates blue. She instinctively ran through different defensive postures with the disks, being careful not to bring them too close to the deck, bulkheads, or overhead.

She discovered it had a remote interface she could access, which allowed her to loosen the buckle that held them to her hands. She wasn’t sure how useful that would be in a fight, but it did make them easier to remove.

When she originally tried to transform those disks into blades, as she had done in one of her flashbacks, she was uncertain at first what to do. But after some trial and error, she realized that instead of making a complete fist, she had to leave certain fingers extended, while the remainder closed. It was easy: extend the index finger, and the disks transformed into plasma blades. Join the two hands together, and the blades became a single, longer unit, whose reach surprised her—it bit into the bulkhead, cutting a sizable hole before she could deactivate it.

Will regarded the black gash dubiously. “Told you this was a bad idea.”

“Guess I probably don’t need to practice for the duration of the trip,” she said. “Quick, help me shove the crates back into place before Targon finds out.”

“He’ll find out when he wakes up and reviews the footage anyway,” Will said, but he shoved off to begin moving back the crates.

She removed the knuckles, freed her feet from the straps, and returned the weapon to the crate she’d taken it from. She had only just begun rearranging the remaining crates to cover the gash when Targon came jetting inside.

He wore a big smile on his face, but when he saw the damage to his bulkhead, he was beside himself. “Me precious wall! Do ye know how much it’s going to cost to fix this? And ye could have killed yourself and your friends!”

When she explained how relatively shallow the gash was compared to the hull thickness and promised to devote her every waking hour to playing Robot Wars with him, he forgave her.

“All right,” Targon said. “But don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

* * *

True to her word, she didn’t touch the Ban’Shar for the remainder of the journey. She also played Robot Wars with Targon each and every day, though she didn’t devote all her waking hours to the game: sometimes, she just needed some Rhea time.

She often sat alone in virtual reality, seated cross-legged on the pier before a Ganymedean lake, the stars shining through the translucent panes of a geodesic dome on the horizon, and the city lights of a quaint settlement beckoning behind her. She sat there, dreaming of a world she could not remember. A world she would never see.

One such time, Will materialized next to her.

“How’s it hanging, Dude?” he quipped. He took a seat next to her on the pier, letting his feet dangle over the edge.

She gave him a forced smile and returned her gaze to the stars reflecting off the lake. Jupiter hung low in the sky. The red spot seemed bigger today, as if the constituent storm was spinning so fast that it threatened to break itself apart.

Too bad it wasn’t real.

“Why do things always turn out differently than we expect?” she said. “I thought I’d be happy on Ganymede. I thought I’d be home. Instead I found a dead world, colonized by people I didn’t recognize, and a government that threatened to imprison me unless I agreed never to return.”

“It’s life,” Will said. “We can’t control the randomness of it.”

“I suppose not,” she said. “I just wish… I’d found what I was looking for.”

“And what was that?” he asked.

“A sense of belonging,” she replied.

He studied her for a moment. “You had that on Earth, didn’t you?”

“Yes and no,” she said. “While the people of Rust Town called me their Warden, and adored me, with many willing to follow me to their deaths, I always felt disconnected from them. Like I didn’t truly belong. And when I found out what I was, I thought that explained these feelings. I thought that coming here would give me the sense of belonging I so desired. Instead, it’s only made me feel even further alienated from everything. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“Welcome to everyone’s daily existence,” he said. “Each one of us has to deal with similar problems and find purpose. Though admittedly, the issues vary from person to person. We all bring our own unique situations to the table. Your blank past, for example.”

She nodded. “You’d think that would make things easier.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I used to think that when we first revived you, but I can see now that’s not the case.”

“No,” she said. “Especially when you have assassins hunting you, and you don’t know why.”

“That can cause just a few problems…” he agreed.

“But it does give me purpose,” she said. “At least a temporary one.” Her voice had grown cold at those words.

He gave her a careful glance. “Assassinating the assassins.”

“Yes,” she said.

He rubbed his chin. “You know, you don’t have to do this. You could join Horatio and me and live the rest of your life as a salvager. You could stay in the Outlands indefinitely. Horatio or I could make city runs now and again to sell salvage and fetch supplies. You, meanwhile, could wait along the outskirts, never needing to set foot in a settlement again.”

She considered that for a moment. “It’s tempting. But let’s be honest: the assassins will find me, eventually. Just as the Scorpion did. I have to hunt them down at the source.”

He looked away. “Yeah, okay. I knew I wouldn’t be able to sway you, but I had to try.” He gazed at the stars in silence. Then: “By the way, do you really plan to obey the contract you signed? You know, the one where you agree never to return to Ganymede? Or did you just sign it for the get-out-of-jail-free card?”

“I plan never to return,” she said.

“You sure?” he asked. “You’re not even going to try sneaking back, just once? It’s a big moon. You could probably slip past their orbital cameras in a normal shuttle.”

“I’m a woman of my word,” she told him.

He bowed his head. “And so you are.”

She unfolded her legs and let them hang over the edge of the pier, just like Will’s. “Besides, there’s nothing for me there. I realize that now. I retrieved the Ban’Shar, and triggered a memory, so at least the visit wasn’t for nothing. But my people, and the cities they once roamed, are no more. There’s no place for a Ganymedean in modern Ganymede.” She shook her head, feeling suddenly emotional, and she blinked away the tears. “You know, ever since I’ve awakened, I’ve thought I was someone special. And for a while there, I even believed it… but you know what? I’m not special. What you said is exactly right. Everyone is struggling with purpose. Everyone deals with problems.”

“No, you are special,” he said. “Your problems rise above the issues ordinary people have to deal with. Not everyone can inspire a whole settlement to fight against seemingly insurmountable odds. Not everyone can garnish a following of hundreds of thousands across the world, even though they’ve been banned from all the major streaming networks. And not everyone can destroy the mind-jacking chip in a mayor’s head and get him to restore water to the settlement along its borders. You are special, Dude. Live with it.”

She nodded slowly. “I guess.”

“You’re a warrior,” he said. “Not just spiritually, but physically, too. Not everyone can kill an assassin like the Scorpion.”

“I had help,” she said. “Without Horatio…”

“Hey, what about me?” he said. “No, just kidding. I was a bit late to the party. I can’t climb buildings like you guys…”

“You’re right,” she said. “I would have died without your help as well. Thank you for what you did.”

He smiled. “Not a problem.” He paused. “I wonder what the Scorpion has been reborn as. You know, there used to be an arachnid called a scorpion that was pretty common in the southern parts of the continent. If there are any still eking out an existence there, it would be poetic justice if he came back as one of them.”

She looked at him. “You’re really set on that reincarnation theory of yours.”

“Well yeah.” He glanced at her over one shoulder. “Think about it. Life is the expression of the universe. An endless cycle of death and rebirth. There is no escape. We live, making as much use of the time that’s given to us in the bodies we have, and we can do nothing when death takes us, and the next cycle is thrust upon us.”

She sighed wearily. “I just hope I don’t come back as some bioweapon.”

“Don’t worry, the odds are low,” Will told her. “The universe is a vast place. Teeming with life.”

“Except we haven’t encountered any of it yet,” Rhea said.

Will smiled patiently. “I thought I put some emphasis on the word vast. Maybe not.” He gestured at the sky. “Look at the stars in your simulated environment. There are probably hundreds of other sentient species like us out there in the known universe. Thousands. Maybe millions.”

“And we can be reincarnated as any one of them?” she asked.

“That’s right,” he replied. “And I’m not even counting the quadrillions of lesser species that might exist on all these worlds that we also have the potential to return as.”

“If coming back as an alien tick worm was meant to cheer me up, it didn’t work,” she said.

“No, it was meant to open your eyes,” he said. “At the incredible complexity of the universe, and the life it contains.”

“Consider my eyes opened.” She turned her gaze toward the dark sky. Space was so very vast, filled with countless stars. And many of these ‘stars’ were galaxies themselves, so far away that they appeared merely as pinpoints of light. Some estimates pegged the number of galaxies in the observable universe at one hundred billion. It made sense that life would exist on more than a few of the worlds each contained.

She finally looked away from those stars, and her gaze settled on Jupiter. “So beautiful. Jupiter.”

“It is,” Will said. “Like you.”

Stunned, she looked at him. “Do you mean that?”

He returned her gaze. She saw only sincerity in his eyes. “Yeah.”

She smiled. “Thank you.” She looked back to the stars. “Though beauty is meaningless in this day and age. Everyone can be beautiful, thanks to technology.”

“Externally, maybe,” he told her. “But I was talking more internally.” He rested a hand on her knee. “Though I admit, sometimes I wonder…”

She looked at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. “What? What do you wonder?”

He shook his head and let his hand drop. “Nothing.” He gazed at the stars.

“No, don’t do that,” she said. “Finish what you were going to say.”

“Nah, it’s not important,” he said.

“Will…” she pressed.

“Okay, fine,” he said. “But it’s probably going to hurt. I was going to say, sometimes I wonder what you looked like, when you were completely human.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Like I told you, it would hurt,” he said.

“Actually, it didn’t,” she replied. “I often wonder that, myself. And I wonder what our relationship would have been like, if the two of us had met while I were fully human.”

He smiled. “Probably wouldn’t have worked out, considering I was a kid.”

“Probably,” she agreed.

“Plus, even if we met when I was older, I would have just invited you over, and after we did our thing, I would have never called you again,” he said. “So it’s probably for the best that things ended up the way they are.”

“Probably,” she agreed, though she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Why do you do that, anyway?”

“What, have sex with random women?” he asked. “It’s in my nature. When you install the genital attachments, you’ll understand.”

“What I mean is, why not seek out one person?” she replied. “Someone who you can have sex with again and again?”

“That’s an old-fashioned notion if I ever heard one,” he told her. “Look, let me tell you a story. There was once a young salvager who was doing fairly well for himself. He had saved up enough money to buy a transport, and he was going to start expanding his operations. But then he met this girl online, and they hung out together almost every day. After a while, he told her he loved her, and would do anything for her. She said she loved him, too, but if he could help her buy a transport, she would really, really appreciate it. So he did. With all his savings, he bought her a transport. She saddled on up in that brand-spanking new transport, waved goodbye, and he never saw her again. Lesson learned.”

Rhea regarded him uncertainly. “You made that up. You would never fall for something like that.”

He smiled. “Maybe. But you should know, you’re not the only person in the world who’s ever been naive.” He stood. “Well. I’ll leave you to your cogitating. People to see, games to play, and all that.”

She gazed up at him. “Thanks for the visit. You and Horatio… you help ground me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, and vanished.

* * *

They weren’t harassed by any more assassins or pirates during the remainder of the journey, and the two weeks passed uneventfully for Rhea. Well, as uneventfully as playing Robot Wars against someone as good as Targon all day could be. For his part, the merchant certainly enjoyed the passage of time, and Rhea had to admit she had begun to get into the game as she got better. She and her two companions even won a few bouts, though she suspected it was because Targon let them. When she confronted him after one suspicious victory, he admitted to going easy.

“Have to make ye look good once in a while,” Targon said. “Ye are the Warden after all. It’s not good for ye to lose all the time, even if you’re dueling a world class player such as meself.”

She put her heart into every match, so much so that when they finally reached Earth orbit, Rhea had become somewhat addicted to the game.

“You know, I never thought I’d say it, but I’m actually going to miss the game,” she told Will and Horatio.

Will nodded. “I used to hate it at first, but it’s kind of grown on me.”

“It’s not even the game itself I’m going to miss most,” she continued. “But rather, that microcosm in time we spent together, with nothing else to do. A place for us to hang out during the day and be with each other. Bond. That’s what I’m going to miss most.”

“I’m sure we’ll have ample opportunity to bond in the coming days,” Will said. “You didn’t really think we were going to let you confront Veil alone, did you? Even with that Banshee thing or whatever you call it, you’re not all powerful.”

“No, I suppose not,” she said. “I won’t try to stop you from coming, if it’s what you want.”

“It is,” Will said.

She glanced at Horatio. “Does he speak for you?”

“He does,” Horatio replied. “We fight with you, Rhea. You are our Warden. And our friend.”

She frowned. “Don’t call me your Warden. To you, of all people, I’m only Rhea.”

“Whatever you say, Dude,” Will said, patting her on the shoulder.

* * *

A passenger shuttle arrived to take them to Earth, since Targon’s craft wasn’t capable of atmospheric entry.

The merchant escorted them to the exit hatch. Everyone was wearing their spacesuits, as per protocol.

“Thanks again for letting me take you to Ganymede,” Targon said.

“Are you thanking me for the voyage, or for the gaming footage I gave you?” Rhea asked.

“Both,” he said. “Everything. I hope to play Robot Wars with you again, someday. Perhaps remotely. Hopefully you’ll have improved a bit, by then. In the meantime, keep an eye out on the streaming sites. You’re going to be famous, soon!”

“I already am, apparently,” she said. “At least in some quarters.”

“Well your fame is only going to grow by leaps and bounds,” Targon said.

“And yours as well, I’m sure,” she told him.

The merchant smiled. “I can see the viral video titles even now: ‘Targon smacks down the Warden in a classic Robot Wars reversal.’ ‘Targon whoops the Warden’s arse in a Battle Royale duel to the death.’ Targon—”

“Dude, you’re going to have to work on your video titles,” Will said. “I’d hardly call those viral.”

“We’ll see, Dirt Hair,” Targon said.

Will growled over the comm.

Targon turned to Rhea. “Who knows? If this pans out, maybe I’ll be able to get back into streaming full time.”

“You’d really sell your ship?” she said.

“In a heartbeat,” he replied.

“I thought you loved this life?” she pressed.

“Don’t mistake me, I do,” he told her. “But I love gaming, and streaming, more.”

“Good luck to you,” Rhea said, clasping his forearm with her palm.

The merchant returned the gesture. “And ye as well. I hope ye find what you’re looking for.”

She entered the hatch and clambered aboard the passenger shuttle. There were other people present, suited up, and she took one of the free seats. Horatio and Will joined her, and the hatch closed.

She eyed the people suspiciously behind their faceplates, but no one looked like a cyborg assassin.

“Interesting guy,” Will sent as the two craft separated.

“Who, Targon?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” he replied. “A bit eccentric.”

“Aren’t we all?” Rhea said.

The shuttle reentered the atmosphere, landed at the Aradne space terminal, and the passengers disembarked.

She noticed the heavier gravity immediately. She had grown accustomed to the weightlessness of space, and the lighter gravity of Ganymede. There would be no bound walking here. The mind-machine interface automatically compensated and ramped up the power output of her servomotors. She could only imagine how bad it must feel for the humans, however. She glanced at Will. His legs seemed rubbery.

“I’m going to have to hit the gym at this rate,” Will said.

“Don’t worry,” Horatio told him. “A few hours walking in this will be more than enough of a workout to restore your strength.”

“If I’m not huffing and puffing in the first two minutes…” Will said. “This spacesuit feels like it weighs a ton.”

A man passed. He wore a spacesuit equipped with external servomotors that whirred loudly—obviously augmenting the occupant’s strength.

“Lucky bastard,” Will said.

“That one will merely take longer to adapt,” Horatio commented. “So ‘unlucky’ might be the more appropriate label.”

Rhea and the others walked into a processing tunnel and a conveyor belt carried them through a scanner that flashed different lights at them.

A voice told her she had passed the contagion check and could open her helmet. She did so and removed it entirely.

“Man, it’s good to breathe fresh air again,” Will said. “You get used to that recycled stuff, but the smell really builds up in your nostrils, you know? So that you smell it all the time.”

The air definitely had a fresher quality.

Doors opened at the end of the tunnel, and Rhea entered the receiving area of the terminal. She went to the counter to clear customs.

She filled out the digital form, listing all her belongings and their value. She wasn’t sure what to put for the Ban’Shar, so she listed it as a farming implement, with a value of twenty credits. She didn’t want to admit what it really was, worried that customs would seize it.

“Your weapons and drone will be conveyed to the city gates, Entrance C,” the customs robot explained. That was the southernmost entrance, which led directly into Rust Town. “They may be retrieved at your earliest convenience when you leave Aradne.”

A trolley-style robot conveyed a crate to the counter from a back hall. The main robot opened the crate and laid their belongings out on the table before it. Rhea grabbed her sack, while Horatio and Will retrieved their salvagers’ backpacks.

The other weapons and the drone had already been removed from the crate, but not the knuckles of the Ban’Shar.

The main robot lifted the pair from the case. “Farming implement?”

“Yes,” she lied. “It creates a plasma field I use to scythe wheat.”

The robot gave an almost imperceptible shrug, and then returned the knuckles to the crate. “It could be used as a weapon in the wrong hands. I will have it conveyed with your other belongings to Entrance C.”

She was relieved the robot hadn’t tried to confiscate it. That meant the device likely wasn’t in its database of prohibited items. Or perhaps it was, but the robot had failed to make an ID match.

Rhea watched the trolley carry the crate away and hoped her Ban’Shar made it safely to the gate.

They changed out of their spacesuit rentals and were given the usual treatment for radiation, then proceeded on their way. She raised the hood of her cloak, hiding much of her face.

As they left the customs area for the main terminal, they found Miles, Brinks and Renaldo waiting for them. Renaldo immediately made a show of scanning himself and the others for mind-jacking chips.

When they came up clean, the three Wardenites gave her hugs in turn.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Miles said. “I was convinced you were going to stay on Ganymede.”

“I thought that too,” Rhea told the albino. “Until I realized, this is my home.”

“You’ll always be our Warden, no matter where you go,” Brinks said. The short, squat man seemed leaner than the last time she saw him. No doubt he’d been actively participating in the reconstruction efforts across Rust Town.

“Thank you,” Rhea said.

“So how was it, by the way?” Renaldo asked. “Everything you dreamed of?” The Wardenite’s skin was even darker than the last time she saw him, as if he had been spending ample time lounging in the sun. She thought he’d put on weight, too, which lent credence to that idea.

“Not really,” Rhea said. “I’ll tell you all about it when I’ve had a chance to… recover.”

Renaldo nodded, and led her into Aradne proper.

She walked beneath those shimmering, crystal towers, and as usual, couldn’t help the awe she felt. It was a truly beautiful city. But her heart belonged to Rust Town.

“The mayor has kept his word?” Rhea asked.

“We’ve had uninterrupted water service ever since you and the mayor had your little talk,” Renaldo said. “There have also been a few high-profile arrests. Councilors charged with collaborating with organized crime gangs to stage the bioweapon attack against Rust Town. Oh, and Sheriff Astor was jailed for his part in the attack.”

Astor had recalled the sentry robots from the outskirts of Rust Town ahead of the Hydra attack, which allowed the bioweapons to approach without resistance. The bastard definitely deserved to rot in a cell.

“Good,” Rhea said. “I don’t need to have another little talk with the mayor, then.”

“Not yet at least,” Renaldo agreed.

Ahead, past the towers, she could see the glistening sheen of the tall, metallic wall that enclosed Aradne. As she proceeded, she pulled her hood even lower, and kept a watchful eye on her surroundings, wary of assassins. Will and Horatio did the same; the Wardenites picked up on her caution, and they, too, surveyed the immediate area. They enveloped her, forming human shields, and regarded the approach of any passersby—man or machine—with suspicion.

Her small group wended between the buildings, and after only a few short minutes, reached that wall.

The sentry robots at Entrance C let her leave unmolested: the mayor had instructed them to let her pass without question, regardless of whether she was traveling in or out.

She emerged into the lean-tos and cargo containers of Rust Town. The settlement was very quiet. The last time she was here, the street was busy with construction. A month had passed, so she supposed it wasn’t entirely unexpected that the rebuilding had finished, at least in this particular neighborhood. However, at the very least she expected to find a few fans waiting to greet her, but there were only a couple of kids playing nearby. They looked at her without recognition, and quickly returned to their augmented reality game, playing hide and seek with friends only they could see.

She gave Renaldo a curious look. “No crowd of onlookers?”

Renaldo shrugged. “We thought you’d prefer a more low-key arrival.”

“Kind of you,” she said.

They retrieved their weapons immediately on the other side, courtesy of the waiting sentry robots. Ordinarily, armaments of any kind weren’t allowed among the denizens of Rust Town, but since the settlement was still rebuilding after the Hydra attack, and the security forces were severely lacking, open carry was tolerated. In fact, most security was handled by the Wardenites themselves these days. Or at least it had been, before she left.

She was relieved to find her Ban’Shar among the set.

“What’s that?” Miles asked as she slid the knuckles onto her hands.

“A new toy,” Will said.

Rhea raised her eyebrows twice in implication.

She grabbed her pistol from the mix, which Will had retrieved for her on Ganymede. She slid it home into the holster at her waist.

“I assume you want to proceed to headquarters?” Renaldo asked. “Or would you prefer a tour of the settlement? We can show you how the rebuilding has gone.”

“I’m going to have to take a rain check on that,” she replied. “I’m sure you can get me caught up via digital maps anyway.”

“Understood.” Renaldo warily studied the streets. “Probably safer to go direct to the HQ anyway.”

“Yes,” Rhea said. “And I’d like you to summon the Wardenites for a meeting as soon as we arrive. I have a new mission.”

13

That same day found Rhea headed north into the barren rocky plains of the Outlands. She sat in the passenger seat of an SUV. Will resided behind the wheel, though the vehicle was currently in self-driving mode. The vehicle had gimbaled shock absorbers installed, but they weren’t super-gimbaled, so while she was mostly prevented from being tossed about by every small bump in the terrain, she still felt the occasional impact as the vehicle drove over the bigger snags.

Horatio sat in the back seat with Miles and Brinks. Renaldo wasn’t with them—he had grown accustomed to his leadership role among the Wardenites, and he had stayed behind to manage the day to day operations of the headquarters. The group had become the biggest driving force behind the rebuilding of Rust Town.

Renaldo had suggested she take a few days off before embarking on a new mission so soon after arriving, but she explained to him that she’d just spent the last two weeks cooped up in a transport ship. Spending even a few more days locked away in the headquarters didn’t appeal to her in the least. She wanted to get out there and do something to feel useful again; and mostly, she just wanted to pulverize the guillotine of assassination that constantly hung over her head.

Then again, Veil was only one of many who hunted her, if the four-armed assassin who killed Chuck was to be believed. That particular assassin had claimed to be an independent, pursuing a bounty posted by some third party. While dealing with Veil would eliminate he who hunted her most arduously, it still meant others would remain at large, looking for her. This wouldn’t be over until she tracked down whoever posted the original bounty.

“You think you’ll be able to convince Veil into revealing the mystery person?” Will had asked when they were alone, earlier.

“I hope,” Rhea replied distractedly.

“You speak as if you already have an idea of who it is,” Will pressed.

She nodded. “Obviously someone rich, to afford the assassins of the caliber of Veil and Scorpion. Someone powerful.”

“Let me guess, you think it’s Khrusos himself…” Will said.

“He would be the most obvious choice,” she agreed. “The mayor claimed to have seen me at the table of Khrusos during a dinner. And the Scorpion called me the ‘Dagger of Khrusos’ once. It seems obvious I had a relationship with the most powerful man on Earth at some point, most likely as his slave.”

“So you’re an escaped slave who Khrusos decided to order assassinated?” Will said.

“Something like that,” she said.

“You must have really pissed him off,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied. “I do that to people, sometimes.”

Of course, she might have been way off the mark, and Khrusos wasn’t the one who ordered her assassination after all. There was so much she didn’t know. Who wiped her mind? Why? Who wanted her dead? She had so many unanswered questions. She didn’t think she’d ever learn the truth, especially not to the most important question of all:

Who am I?

If she had participated in the Great Calming, she could understand why there were some who wanted to assassinate her. More than understand.

But there was still a sliver of doubt in her mind on that front. This sliver was enough for her to want to fight back. She would know the truth. And if she really had helped kill half the world, then she would just have to find a way to live with herself. If that was possible.

She and the others wore the same camo fatigues they’d used for their previous mission into the Outlands, when they’d traveled to the pipeline that fed Aradne ocean water and cut into it to fill their tanks. During the day, the black and gray “rock digital” motif on the camos would blend them with the rocky terrain, and at night, the fabrics were equipped with thermal cooling and venting technology to mask their heat signatures.

Another SUV drove alongside, filled with more Wardenites in camos. The occupants of both vehicles had been scanned for mind-jacking chips before departing, of course, including Rhea herself.

Providing escort around the two vehicles were several autonomous pickup trucks equipped with plasma turrets in their beds—technicals. Meanwhile, ahead of the group, drones scouted from the air. Gizmo was among them. Their job was to determine whether or not the highlands were overrun with bioweapons. If so, Rhea and her team would probably turn back. If not, she intended to continue, even if it likely meant driving right into Veil’s trap. Which was why Rhea had ensured the convoy was armed to the teeth.

In addition to the technicals driving alongside, everyone had at least two weapons—a rifle strapped to the shoulder and a pistol at the hip. Rhea had a backup pistol at her hip as well, but in place of a rifle, she possessed the Ban’Shar…

She gazed at the bands of metal secured to her knuckles. So innocuous seeming. Yet so deadly.

Don’t fail me.

She had practiced for a few hours earlier, instructing the Wardenites to shoot at her with their plasma bolts at the lowest setting. They didn’t want to do it at first, but after she taunted them and insulted their manhood, a few began to oblige her, and others joined in when it became obvious how good she was at deflecting the bolts. It was going well, with none of their shots getting through, but she had to stop when she almost killed one of the Wardenites with a reflected plasma bolt.

That was the problem with training with a weapon like the Ban’Shar—you could only go so far until you risked hurting either yourself, or someone else. She wondered how she had ever learned to get good with it. She suspected that the weapon had been reserved for cyborg recruits such as herself, recruits who could be repaired after each practice bout. But even then, there was a risk of head injury, for which there could be no repairs.

“So, the Emerald Highlands,” Miles said from the backseat, rousing her from her thoughts. “Interesting that Veil should use the hills as his hiding place.”

“It’s the perfect spot for a hideout, if you think about it,” Brinks commented. “An abandoned mine. A labyrinthine system of tunnels already dug out and waiting to be occupied. Veil had to clear it of bioweapons I’m sure, but once that was done, Bob’s his uncle.”

Rhea cocked her head and looked at Brinks.

“What?” Brinks said.

“Nothing,” she told him. “That last phrase of yours reminded me of the merchant who took me to Ganymede. Interesting fellow.”

“I’m sure he was,” Brinks agreed.

Miles spoke up. “What I meant, when I said it was interesting Veil chose the Emerald Hills, was that I find it fascinating. Here we have an Aradne crime lord, who doesn’t even live in Aradne. I suppose he doesn’t have to, given the network he’s built up. He can operate his entire organization remotely.”

“When you get powerful enough, you have minions who do everything for you,” Brinks agreed.

“That would be great if I could just hire someone to handle Veil,” Rhea said. “But there’s no one I trust enough to complete the job.”

“I could do it,” Miles said. “I’d do it all stealth wise. Infiltrate his Black Hands, then finish him when he let his guard down.”

“You?” Will said. “An albino known for being a dedicated Wardenite? I somehow doubt they’d let you into the Black Hands.”

“Hey, you might be surprised at how convincing I can be when I want to,” Miles countered. “I’d probably have to kill another Wardenite to prove my loyalty, but hey, I’d do it.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Brinks said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Miles agreed. “I’m talking out of my arse, as usual.”

Brinks nodded. “Happens to the best of us.”

They were quiet for a time.

“Can you stop that?” Miles said.

Rhea glanced over her shoulder to see what the commotion was.

“He’s fidgeting his leg,” Miles explained.

“I always get nervous before any big battle,” Brinks said. “I can’t help it. Need an outlet for my nervous energy.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Rhea said.

“Why?” Brinks said. “Any one of us could die out there. We all know that. And we accepted that, before agreeing to come on the mission.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Rhea said. “I’m going to protect all of you. I’m your Warden, remember?”

Brinks smiled sadly. “But even you can make mistakes, Warden. We all know that now. I mean come on, though you’re a cyborg, you’re perhaps the most human of us all.”

“I’m not sure if that was a compliment, or an insult,” Rhea told him. “It sounds almost like you’re saying I make more mistakes than an ordinary human would.”

“I meant it as a compliment,” Brinks said slowly. “In that, you display more human emotion, more heart, than most of us with organic bodies do.”

She smiled. She thought he had definitely backtracked, but he did in such a way that she couldn’t be the least bit upset with him. “I appreciate that.”

The SUV jerked rather harshly, ruining the moment.

“Are we under attack?” Rhea spun and scanned the horizons.

“No, just a bad bump,” Will said, rubbing his head.

She nodded.

After a moment, Will added: “You know, you probably should have just let the mayor send in a strike team. He wants Veil dead just as much as you do.”

“And risk scaring him off?” Rhea said. “I don’t think so. Don’t you remember what DragonHunter told us?” DragonHunter was a hacker who had helped them track a transmission from Veil to the Aradne city hall. “The Black Hands, and thus Veil, always seem to be one step ahead of the security forces. If we had the mayor dispatch a strike team, they’d arrive to find Veil long gone. Veil wants me to come in person? Fine, I’ll come.”

“So,” Miles said after a time. “I was thinking about what you told us about Ganymede.”

Rhea glanced expectantly over her shoulder at him.

“About how all the original domes had been shattered,” he continued. “And I can’t help but think, they deserved it. For what they did to Earth.”

He stared at her, as if expecting her to agree, but when she didn’t say anything, he nodded slowly.

“I don’t blame you for what happened,” he said. “You know that, right?”

He had switched off his comm node, so that his words were heard only by the current occupants of the vehicle, all of whom knew that Rhea was a Ganymedean.

“Sometimes I’m not sure,” she said.

“You were obviously taken prisoner on Ganymede,” Miles said. “And brought to Earth as a slave of some kind. It’s a miracle you survived all these years. You have no memories of the Great Calming.”

She exchanged a guilty glance with Will at that latter comment.

“So, I can understand why you don’t blame your people,” Miles continued. “But if you saw the cities melting, heard the screams of the dying, you would feel as I do. The Ganymedeans deserved to die, every last man, woman and child.”

“Surely not the children,” she said quietly.

“Yes, the children,” Miles spat. “Do you know how many baby skeletons they recovered from the ruins of New York city? Los Angeles? Philadelphia? There were millions. Ganymede got what it deserved. Have you ever heard the phrase; you reap what you sow? The Ganymedeans definitely reaped the bountiful crop of death they had sown.”

“Don’t mind him,” Brinks said. “We’re all in a bit of a grim mood… traveling into the Outlands, in search of a deadly crime lord, uncertain if we’re going to survive this day.”

“I will protect you,” Rhea insisted.

“So you keep saying,” Miles commented. “But you weren’t able to help Chuck, were you?”

Rhea stared at him. Those words cut her to the core. “Why are you here?” she asked crossly. “You volunteered for this. Would you like to transfer to one of the technicals? I can have it take you back.”

“Sorry,” Miles said. “I didn’t mean it. Like Brinks said, I’m in a bit of a grim mood. I get this way before a fight. It happens.”

“No actually, I think you should get the hell off this SUV.” Will was staring at the man. He was obviously pissed. “You’re talking to the Warden here, you know that right?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” Miles said.

“Chuck was the one who messed up,” Will continued. “She can’t help it when you have idiots standing up from cover when they’re supposed to be staying down.”

“He wasn’t an idiot,” Rhea said softly. “He did it on purpose, to help me.”

“That’s what you keep telling yourself,” Will said. “And it’s probably wrong. You do it, I think, just to let the guilt fester.”

“That’s because guilt is good,” she said. “It reminds me of what happened and keeps me on my toes. I won’t let any of you die on me again.”

The men were quiet for a time.

“I just wanted to apologize again,” Miles told her, breaking the silence. “About everything I said earlier. I overstepped. Should have kept my mouth shut. I’m just anxious about what’s coming. I was never good at keeping emotions bottled in. They just blurt out and offend the people who are closest to me. People I respect more than anything, such as yourself. You’re my Warden, and, well, you used to be my friend. I hope my words haven’t jeopardized that friendship.”

Rhea gazed at him and smiled. “No, Miles. You’re my friend. And always will be. Don’t be afraid to speak your mind around me, just because you’re worried you might offend me, or those with me. I need you guys to keep me grounded. And do remind me of what the Ganymedeans did. I need to hear it, I think. Just as I need to keep hearing about Chuck’s death.”

Will was shaking his head. “You don’t need to hear that crap.”

“But I do, Will,” she told him. She patted him on the shoulder, then reached out toward Miles, who extended a hand. She grabbed it. “You are all my brothers, those of you who travel with me today. You are my most loyal and dedicated companions. And I will protect you. You have my word.”

Miles nodded, and she released him.

The journey through the Outlands continued uneventfully. They sighted no bioweapons all the way to the highlands. She was definitely starting to believe the Black Hands had spread misinformation to keep people away.

When the foothills that marked the start of the highlands came into view on the horizon, she turned toward Will. “Send the drones in.”

“You got it,” Will replied.

She glanced at the overhead map, and watched the blue dots representing the drones advance. The airborne machines spread out, and swooped down, moving among the hills. Gizmo held its current altitude, maintaining the “eye in the sky” position.

A flashing waypoint appeared on the map.

“We’ve got a cave entrance,” Will announced. A moment later he added: “Another.”

Over the next several minutes, the drones marked off another three entrances, for a total of five.

“There’s no others in the immediate vicinity,” Will said. “I’m sending three scouts forward to continue the search.”

Three of the drone scouts buzzed over the horizon, while the others ascended to join Gizmo.

The SUVs and their autonomous escorts reached the highlands shortly thereafter. The latter machines broke away, racing ahead to assume guard positions in front of each of the five entrances.

“Caves are secured,” Will announced. “The autos aren’t picking up any targets inside.”

“Bring us to within fifty meters of the closest cave,” Rhea ordered.

The two SUVs halted the aforementioned distance from the first cave. Three technicals stood guard in a semicircle before it, plasma turrets pointing into the darkness. She tapped into the LIDAR feed from one of the technicals, and the murk beyond the entrance became overlaid with white polygons, silhouetting the walls, ceiling and floor of the tunnel. She quickly realized that it wasn’t big enough to fit the pickup trucks, nor the SUVs.

She similarly tapped into the LIDAR feeds of technicals placed before the other caves and came to the same conclusions on each of them. If she wanted to explore any of these tunnels, she and her companions would have to leave the vehicles behind.

After five minutes the drone scouts returned.

“There are no obvious cave entrances for the next seven kilometers,” Will said. “However, the foothills extend for another fifteen kilometers beyond that. There could very well be more tunnels further north.”

“Send one of the drones further north,” Rhea said. “I want a map of the entire highlands. In the meantime, have the rest explore these five caves. Starting with the first.”

Will nodded. “One drone north, and the remainder to the first cave.”

Gizmo maintained its holding pattern overhead as the remaining drones swooped downward. In moments they were piling into the entrance beside her.

When they vanished from view, Rhea glanced at the overhead map, and watched as the cave was mapped out in realtime. So far, there was nothing in that tunnel except bare rock.

One of the drones halted as it neared the maximum extents of signal range. Meanwhile, the others pressed on. They occasionally sidetracked to explore smaller side passages, only to return to the main tunnel when the aforementioned passage ended.

Meanwhile, drones continued to drop out, one at a time, stringing out in a long line as the maximum range of each was attained. They did this so as to act as repeaters, allowing the party waiting on the surface to watch in realtime.

Eventually, though, there weren’t enough drones to act as repeaters, and the lead scout proceeded alone. Its indicator froze as it passed beyond maximum range, and the map stopped updating.

After a tense ten minutes, the unmapped sections abruptly filled out—the drone had returned.

“Look at that,” Miles said. “There was definitely some sort of a camp in that one. Recently abandoned. Seems almost like they just got up and left everything.”

Rhea zoomed in on the newly mapped section, which harbored an extensive cavern. Near the entrance to that chamber, several supply crates were stacked in one corner. Further on were alcoves, partitioned off from one another by 3D-printed walls. Some of these alcoves contained articles of clothing and other personal belongings.

There was a fire pit in the center of the cavern, with a high-tech air filter squatting next to it. On the chamber’s far side was yet another 3D-printed alcove, though this one was filled with a suspicious looking liquid—the drone had marked it as exuding high concentrations of methane. Likely the communal latrine.

“Guess we scared them off,” Will said. “And to think, you were worried the mayor’s strike force would have that effect. They probably hightailed it as soon as they detected our drones. I’ve dealt with a few of these Black Hands before… not the most courageous people you’ll meet.”

“Yes, but there are still four more caves,” Rhea patiently told her friend.

The drones proceeded to map the second and third caves in a similar manner, and while harboring extensive tunnel systems in their own right, these caves otherwise proved empty. There were no signs of habitation.

At the fourth cave, the drones spread out as usual to act as repeaters. The lead drone passed beyond the maximum range, and stopped transmitting, as expected, with its icon freezing on the overhead map.

Rhea waited expectantly for the map to update.

Ten minutes passed. No update.

Twenty. Still nothing.

A half hour.

“You think this cave is really big enough to warrant such a delay?” Will asked impatiently. “Or something else happened?”

“I’m leaning toward the latter,” Rhea said.

“Up until the time the lead drone stopped transmitting, no signs of habitation were found,” Horatio said. “This tends to imply no bioweapons reside within.”

“I agree,” Rhea said. “But it doesn’t rule out Veil or the Black Hands.” She paused, then made up her mind: “Let’s recall the remaining drones and get the fifth cave mapped out. If the missing drone emerges from the fourth within that time, great. If not, we’re going to have to go in and check it ourselves.” She paused. “By the way, has the drone we sent north reported back yet?”

“Nope,” Will replied.

He sent the drones into the fifth tunnel, however it proved just as empty as caves two and three.

“Well then, that’s that,” Rhea said. “Take us to the fourth cave.”

Will took control of the SUV and drove it toward the fourth cave, where four technicals stood watch. The other SUV joined them.

“You really want to do this?” Will asked. “It’s obviously a trap.”

“Of course I don’t,” Rhea told him.

“We could stay here,” Horatio said. “Wait out Veil. He or his men will have to leave to fetch supplies and rations eventually.”

“Except we don’t know how many rations he’s got stocked up,” Rhea said. “He could have a hundred days’ worth.”

“Or there might be a back way out,” Will said. “One we don’t know about. An exit on the plains somewhere, several kilometers out. He could use that to resupply. Or flee at his leisure, while we sit here, waiting.”

Rhea nodded. “We have to go in now if we want to find him.”

Will stopped the vehicle next to the waiting technicals.

“You know, Veil’s probably not even present,” Will said. “Oh, I’m sure there’s a welcoming party of some sort waiting for us inside, but I doubt it involves Veil.”

Rhea nodded. “We’ve been through this.”

“I know,” Will said. “Just figured, it never hurts to remind you.”

Rhea opened the door and stepped out. Her companions likewise emerged.

Across from her, the remaining Wardenites exited the second SUV. Jairlin stood at their forefront. He wore the same stealth camos as everyone else. As usual, the designer stubble on his face was grown out just the right amount to be fashionable, and he somehow managed to find the time to brush his hair into a quiff.

Miles and Jairlin passed out headlamps retrieved from the storage compartments of the SUVs. The Wardenites slid the straps over their temples, securing the lamps. Rhea didn’t bother to take one. She preferred her built-in LIDAR; the Wardenites had LIDAR capabilities too, built into their AR goggles.

“So?” Jairlin said. “Are we going inside?”

Rhea didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her head to stare into the darkness of the tunnel entrance. The LIDAR from the technicals and drones still silhouetted the walls and floor. “I hate caves.”

“We all do,” Will said. “You’re thinking of when those Hydras chased us into the mountain tunnel? When we thought Monkey Boy was on our side?”

“Pretty much,” Rhea said. “Wasn’t the funnest time of my life.” She continued to gaze at that entrance ahead and couldn’t help the mounting dread she felt. “Still nothing on the drone we dispatched north?”

“Nope,” Will said. “It should have reported back by now.”

“Another mystery,” Rhea commented.

“Veil might have forces spread throughout the highlands…” Will suggested.

“Maybe so,” Rhea agreed.

She swallowed, then glanced at the Ban’Shar strapped to her hands. The sight of the weaponry helped her steel herself.

“Well, nothing for it,” she said. “Send the drones in.”

The small machines flew into the opening, leading the way.

Will had Gizmo remain outside, with instructions to enter the cave and alert them if any enemies were sighted. Meanwhile, the technicals would guard their backs.

Rhea took a step toward the opening.

“Dude,” Will said. “You don’t get to go first.”

“This is my operation,” she said. “I’m calling the shots.”

“He’s right,” Jairlin said. “Our purpose here is to protect you.”

She shook her head. “I knew I should have come alone.” She hesitated. “I’m the Warden. I’m the one who’s supposed to be doing the protecting.”

She was tempted to activate her Ban’Shar, if only to prove how powerful she’d become, but she didn’t want to tip Veil, who might be watching via hidden camera.

“Let my team go first,” Jairlin pleaded.

She realized there was little point in arguing. They weren’t going to let her go first, even if the mission was hers. She wasn’t sure how she could protect people who didn’t want to be protected.

I should have refused the lot of them and commissioned a team of combat robots instead.

But combat robots were sentient, she reminded herself. The death of a robot was little different from the death of a human in this day and age, especially if that robot was under her command and protection.

She sighed. “Jairlin, after your team.”

The man nodded and took his group inside.

Rhea exchanged a nervous glance with Will, and then the two of them stepped into the cave together.

14

The drones traveled in single file, and spread out, separating so that they were each fifty meters apart. Jairlin and the three Wardenites with him followed another fifty meters after the trailing unit, with Rhea and the others coming twenty-five meters after that.

She proceeded across that cold, dank stone, the air feeling heavy around her. Their boots thudded repetitively upon the rock. In the darkness, the monotonous polygons of the LIDAR passed by, demarcating the walls, floor and ceiling. Ahead, Jairlin and the other Wardenites were outlined like blue ghosts on her HUD, courtesy of their active positional sharing. Will was similarly silhouetted beside her, as were Horatio, Brinks and Miles when she glanced over one shoulder.

While that LIDAR data had been mapped previously, thanks to the earlier drone flight through the cave, she instructed Will to have the scouts transmit the occasional photonic burst to update said data, mostly to confirm nothing was lurking in wait since the last run through.

“Should we activate our headlamps?” Jairlin transmitted.

“Negative,” Rhea said. “I don’t want you to draw attention to yourselves just yet. Use the drones as yours eyes. Let the darkness be your shield.”

She just wished they would allow her to be their shield.

If they start taking fire, I’m going to dash ahead and leap in front of them, no matter what they say. I will protect them.

Eventually the lead drone reached the cave section where the previous machine had passed out of range and never returned. New map data began to fill out on her HUD.

That drone was just starting to enter a wider passageway, potentially a cavern, when it winked out.

Well, there goes the drone, Will transmitted over a mental channel.

The next drone in line followed, and it, too, vanished as it began to enter the wider passage.

Okay, halt the drones, Rhea mentally transmitted.

She increased her pace, and quickly reached Jairlin and the lead team. Before anyone could stop her, she shoved past them and took the lead.

Warden! Jairlin transmitted.

She ignored him and increased her pace. She glanced over her shoulder. They were running toward her. She thought they were going to tackle her, so she switched to a sprint.

Stay back! she sent. For your own safety!

But they would not obey.

Rhea raced past the remaining drones, which were strung out in a line before her. She was well aware of the sound of her echoing footfalls, and those of the Wardenites behind her.

She reached the widening portion of the passageway and slowed down. She drew the pistol and switched to a crouch.

She released a single LIDAR burst and dropped immediately to the stone floor. She activated her Ban’Shar, holding it above her as a shield.

The cavern around her filled out. It was huge, the arched ceiling reaching well over her head, and extending far into the distance.

The LIDAR burst would have revealed her position, and the Ban’Shar, with its blue glow, definitely did. She expected a plasma bolt or laser attack to come her way, but nothing transpired.

Jairlin and the others arrived and crowded around her.

Are you all right? Jairlin sent.

Get behind me, idiots! she transmitted. She switched to a crouch and repositioned the translucent plasma disks to protect the Wardenites.

They all dropped.

Will, Horatio, and the other two Wardenites arrived, and similarly dropped to the cave floor. Rhea kept the Ban’Shar placed squarely between them and the rest of the cavern.

What’s the deal? Will asked. Are we under attack?

Not yet, Rhea sent.

The drones had remained in the passageway behind. She glanced at her overhead map and was just about to tell Will to send them forward when their dots winked out.

Did anyone else just notice that we lost all the drones? Will asked.

We’ve got someone behind us, Rhea replied. With me!

Feeling exposed, she backed away toward the closest wall. The others followed, staying behind her.

When she reached the wall, they crowded against it, and Rhea stood in front of them. The glow from her Ban’Shar created a pool of blue light on the cave floor around her.

Will, Horatio, watch the entrance.

She switched to full LIDAR, since her position was known to the enemy anyway, and she didn’t want someone sneaking into the cavern unnoticed. She surveyed her surroundings, as generated by that LIDAR, and noted the random passageways that branched off on the left and right. She was in some kind of central hub in the tunnel system.

She heard muted footfalls coming from somewhere ahead. It was hard to determine the position, since the footsteps echoed from the walls. She ran her gaze across the different passageways, searching for the source.

“You’ve come, Warden,” a woman’s voice said. “I must admit, I didn’t believe you would. I thought you’d send your followers to do your dirty work.”

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Rhea said. “Not everyone is cast from the same cowardly die as yourself. If I’m going to kill someone, I do it myself, rather than hiring someone else.”

“I suppose so, given your profession,” the woman said over the continuing footsteps. “Your memories are coming back, then?”

Rhea ignored the question and asked one of her own. “You’re Veil?”

Bright lamps turned on in the ceiling, negating the need for any further LIDAR transmissions. She kept the system active anyway: those lights might be designed to lull her into complacency, shutting off when she least expected it. She wouldn’t let them blind her, not even for a second.

The footfalls increased in volume and humanoid figures began arriving from every last one of the branching passageways, including the tunnel Rhea and the others had arrived from. They crowded into the room, spreading out along the walls. They wore dark gray fatigues, with thick cloaks draping their shoulders, and large, round AR goggles shielding their eyes. Long, unkept hair reached past their disheveled beards. They all carried plasma rifles, which were pointed in the general direction of the group.

“Black Hands,” Will hissed.

Rhea kept her Ban’Shar ignited and at the ready.

Behind her, the Wardenites shifted, no doubt aiming their own rifles past her Ban’Shar toward the newcomers.

A figure appeared on a balcony she hadn’t noticed overhead—this balcony blended in quite well with the cavern wall. The figure was garbed in a black robe whose plate-like protrusions hinted at a robotically augmented form underneath. That garment left only the face visible, and the lamp light glinted off the chiseled features of a human female, features that were far too beautiful to be natural. Likely a cyborg.

“Veil?” Rhea asked.

The robed woman smiled. “That is one of my names. Damascus. Resolutus. Scourge of the North. These are all mine. And soon I will add another set of titles to that list: Warden Killer. Defeater of the Dagger.”

“I was expecting a man,” Rhea commented offhandedly. The nonchalance was an act, of course: she was thinking furiously, trying to come up with a way to reach her foe. This body’s most powerful jump would only bring her halfway to the balcony. What she wouldn’t give for the lighter gravity of Ganymede right now.

Even if she managed to climb the wall and reach Veil before the crime lord could flee, she’d be abandoning her friends to the Black Hands. Something she could never do.

The only other option was to order her men to open fire at the woman. Unfortunately, Veil would probably retreat deeper into the balcony before any of them could get off a shot. Meanwhile, the Black Hands would unleash everything they had at Rhea and her companions.

With some reluctance, Rhea admitted to herself that there was nothing she could do for the time being. She would simply have to wait for a better moment to strike.

“Most expect a man when they come to find me,” Veil agreed. “Imagine their surprise when they meet their deaths at the hands of a woman.”

A scraping noise drew Rhea’s attention upward. A large, multi-barreled plasma turret deployed from the rock ceiling.

“Get down!” Rhea flung her left plasma disk upward and crouched.

Will, Horatio and the Wardenites ducked.

She kept the rightmost disk angled in front of her, so that when the Black Hands opened fire a moment later, she was ready.

The latter enemy was yet arrayed in a half circle against the walls around her, so she was forced to swing the lower disk back and forth to cover all angles of attack. She moved her arm so fast that she essentially created an impenetrable shield in front of herself and the Wardenites, forming a glowing plasma arc that deflected all energy bolts unleashed by the enemy. Those bolts bounced away randomly, sometimes downing a Black Hand, but for the most part slamming harmlessly into the cave wall.

“Hold your fire!” Will shouted.

Good advice: because of the speed with which she swiveled that lower shield, the Wardenites risked killing themselves with a fatal deflection if they attempted to shoot past it. They could potentially stand up to shoot over it, but that meant putting themselves directly into the line of fire of the Black Hands.

The overhead turret activated. Rhea deflected the attacks with her upper Ban’Shar, protecting her men. Though the turret’s bolts came in fast and furious, she didn’t have to swing the disk through as wide a range of motion as the lower shield, allowing her to take the time she needed to alter its angle until she found the right tilt to deflect the bolts back into the turret. In moments she had disabled it.

With that weapon gone, she lowered the leftmost disk and used it to augment the other Ban’Shar.

“Interesting,” Veil shouted above the fighting. “You’re living up to your new name, Warden. But do you really think I’ve never dealt with a Ganymedean before?”

She removed her black robe, revealing a body that looked like it was made of several smaller humanoid robots. Two of those robots broke away and leaped off the balcony. They crashed into the floor, and rolled into large, separate balls that headed straight for her.

Rhea was forced to bring one of her Ban’Shar forward and braced for the robot spheres to smash into it. Meanwhile, the Wardenites opened fire on the now exposed side, forcing the Black Hands to retreat into the passageways to take cover.

Before striking, the robots transformed into humanoids again and leaped upward, arcing over her disk. The robots reached down, and their fingers elongated, becoming sharp spikes.

Rhea twisted her body, narrowly avoiding a strike to the head; one of the spikes tore into her left shoulder and embedded deep. She cut it away with her Ban’Shar before the robot passed, allowing a plasma bolt from the Black Hands to slip through—it grazed her right side, melting the armor there.

Will and Horatio fired their rifles at point blank range into the vaulting robots, so that by the time the machines crashed into the wall, they were already partially melted into slag. When they bounced to the ground, they didn’t get up.

Rhea hadn’t taken hits to any vital circuitry, and she was able to lower her Ban’Shar to protect herself, and the men, once more.

“You all right?” Will asked.

“Fine!” she replied. “Target Veil! Don’t let her launch any more of those robots!”

Will and Horatio directed plasma fire toward the balcony, forcing Veil to retreat into the upper tunnel from whence she’d come. Meanwhile some of the other Wardenites behind her had apparently decided to risk standing up now and again, judging from the occasional bolt that shot over her shifting Ban’Shar to strike one of the Black Hands.

Since Rhea didn’t have to move her disk-like shields as fast anymore, now that she could devote both of them to protecting herself and her companions, she began to experiment with the tilt of the Ban’Shar, and deflected bolts into the Black Hands who were firing them. This, in combination with the shots the Wardenites occasionally released over her shields, caused the enemy units all around her to begin retreating into the passageways for cover.

As that happened, the barrage she faced lessened, and she could further concentrate on deflecting those bolts, and she redirected them mercilessly into her enemies. Soon they stopped firing entirely and vanished into the side passageways.

Veil had yet to return to the upper balcony, and Rhea wanted to climb that wall in pursuit, but first she had to cross the tunnel without getting anyone killed.

“Let’s go!” Rhea said. She started forward cautiously, keeping an eye on the side passageways, looking for any stragglers among the Black Hands. Behind her, Will and the others scanned the openings as well.

“They’re all empty,” Miles said. “The Black Hands have run off!”

“Cowards,” Will agreed.

And then the rock walls began to come alive.

“Uh,” Brinks said. “The walls.”

“I see them,” Rhea said.

Slithering figures of rock broke away from the stone walls all around them. They were vaguely reminiscent of certain extinct reptiles she had seen on the streaming sites—hooded cobras. They even had leathery tongues that flicked from their open mouths. The difference with these creatures was that they had forelimbs tipped by long, wicked-looking sickles.

They slowly slithered forward, their upper bodies held aloft, their forelimbs slicing eagerly at the air.

Rhea flicked her index fingers forward, transforming the Ban’Shar into glowing short swords of plasma.

“Custom bioweapons of some kind,” Will said. “They’re coming from the passageways, too. The Black Hands are long gone.”

“Fight through them!” Rhea said. “To the balcony!”

She raced forward. The Wardenites followed and opened fire, drilling blast craters into the bodies of the creatures ahead of her. The impacts caused some of the rock creatures to go down, while others were merely injured and kept coming.

As she neared one of those in the forefront, it lunged at her. She twisted to the side and struck down with her Ban’Shar sword, beheading it.

Another creature thrust for her. She ducked, and met the creature head-on, plunging the Ban’Shar blade through its core, and ripping the weapon sideways to extract a good chunk of tissue and the rock flesh coating it. The rock cobra fell.

Three more creatures tried to waylay her. One was struck down by a plasma bolt from behind, while she mowed down the remainder with quick strikes from her Ban’Shar.

One of the rock cobras came at her from the side. There was no time to swing her sword that way to attack it, so instead she lifted the blade and closed her index finger to form a complete fist. The plasma blade transformed into a disk once more, and the creature’s head slammed harmlessly into the surface. The impetus caused the disk to descend dangerously close to her body, and she was forced to apply countering pressure.

The creature bounced away, its face shaven clean off, leaving behind a molten, dripping mass.

A crescent-moon talon sliced at her from the opposite side. She swiveled away, leaping behind the injured body of the rock cobra whose face she’d just cut off; the claw struck its hard carapace and deflected harmlessly aside.

Both creatures were struck by plasma bolts a moment later and collapsed.

Rhea continued forward, cutting a path through the rock cobras with her Wardenites until she reached the wall beneath the balcony.

The Wardenites formed a half-circle behind her and continued firing into the incoming bioweapons. She surveyed the smooth surface, and realized it wasn’t something a human could climb easily.

“Horatio, carry someone,” she said. “Will, on my back!”

Will leaped onto her back, and she deactivated the Ban’Shar. She began climbing. She thrust her fingers into the rock, pressing hard to form handholds. She didn’t bother to make holds with her feet—she simply used the handholds as footholds when she climbed high enough.

Horatio joined her, following in her wake.

The others continued to keep the rock cobras at bay below.

She glanced down, and saw Brinks try to climb up, but he lost his grip after climbing only a pace and dropped down.

“Wait for me!” she shouted.

Brinks nodded and turned back to keep firing into the creatures.

Rhea reached the two stories to the balcony, and slowly peered over the lower edge to confirm Veil wasn’t lying in wait to ambush her. There were no bioweapons in the passage beyond. For now.

“Get up there,” she told Will. “And watch your back.”

He nodded and climbed over her to take up a defensive position. Occasionally glancing over his shoulder, he fired down into the rock cobras to help the others.

“Look out!” she told the others.

They cleared the wall below, and she shoved off from the rock ledge, passing over Horatio. She landed hard on the stone surface, and when she stood up her knee servomotors whined in complaint.

Horatio deposited Miles onto the balcony, and then released the wall to land beside Rhea. Miles meanwhile joined Will, and together they offered support from above.

Rhea and Horatio carried the men up one by one like that. When they arrived, they either joined Will and Miles in firing down into the fray, or they guarded the rear.

Finally, Rhea and Horatio unloaded the last of them. She pulled herself onto the balcony and glanced down one last time. The bodies of the rock cobras were piled in a tall semicircle around the base of the wall. Without anyone to defend that base, the remaining bioweapons shoved past the bodies and attempted to climb, but their talons scraped uselessly against the stone.

She smiled and turned away.

Miles, still standing guard beside her, released a few more wasteful shots before following.

“Damn rock snakes,” the albino said. “Veil could have custom designed any animal. And she had to choose rock snakes.”

“I take it you’re not a big fan of snakes…” Rhea said.

“Are you?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted.

Brinks and Horatio led the way. Soon the tunnel became so cramped that they had to continue in single file. Rhea imagined her enemy having a hard time passing through with her large, augmented body—Veil would have had to crouch, and perhaps crawl on hands and knees. Then again, maybe Veil merely had to release the smaller humanoids who composed her body, sending them through individually before reassembling on the other side.

They traveled at least two kilometers through that tunnel, according to her internal accelerometer.

“Got an opening,” Horatio announced.

The robot carefully checked both sides of the entrance, and then emerged.

“It’s clear,” Horatio said.

The others followed, stepping onto the rocky plains just outside the foothills. The terrain formed an arch over the exit, which made it difficult to see from above. That would explain why the drones had missed it—that and the fact it was well away from the closest hill.

A camouflage tarp lay abandoned on the ground. It had likely hidden a vehicle—and a big one at that, judging from the size of the tarp.

“The drones missed the opening,” Will commented. “And the vehicle, too.”

“Hey, you had one of your drones among them,” Miles said. “And it didn’t detect this exit, or any vehicles, either.”

“Speaking of which, I have Giz in comm range,” Will told Rhea.

“Have Gizmo summon the SUVs, and the technicals,” Rhea said.

She was gazing toward the far horizon, toward an out-of-place smudge. She zoomed in; speeding away from the highlands, a semi hauled a wide trailer.

“You’re not going to get away, Warden Killer,” she said softly.

15

Rhea sat in the passenger seat of the SUV; Will and the others had returned to their previous positions, while Jairlin and his team sped alongside in the second SUV. The technicals kept pace all around them.

She glanced at the righthand rear-view mirror. So far, the rock cobras hadn’t emerged from the highlands to pursue, but even if they had, the plodding creatures wouldn’t have been able to keep pace with the vehicles.

Gizmo led the way ahead, traveling at an altitude well above the visual range of the enemy. The convoy was gradually overtaking the slower semi.

“What do you think they’re carrying in that trailer?” Will asked.

“Probably her belongings,” Rhea said. “Or her quarters. A crime lord as powerful as Veil would want to bring some of the city’s luxury with her whenever she visited her men in the Outlands. I somehow doubt she’d be familiar with the term ‘roughing it.’”

“But why not stick to virtual furniture?” Will said.

“Why don’t the rich ever stick to virtual furniture?” Rhea replied. “Because they don’t have to. The real thing affords them bragging rights.”

“Human hierarchical behavior and its associated hoarding can be so very wasteful,” Horatio commented.

“Not as wasteful as building sentient machines,” Will replied.

Horatio had nothing to say to that.

“If Veil was smart,” Miles said into the silence. “She’d simply jettison that trailer.”

“She probably will,” Rhea said. “Though I doubt it will give her that much of a speed advantage. Probably buy her a few more minutes before her doom, and that’s it.”

“Personally, I think the trailer harbors some sort of missile launcher,” Brinks said. “Maybe a nuke.”

Miles chuckled. “I seriously doubt it.”

“Guess we’ll see,” Brinks told the Wardenite. “When you’re staring down the business end of an incoming missile, I promise not to say, ‘I told you so.’”

When the convoy approached to within the maximum range of the plasma turrets, Rhea gave the order for the technicals to begin bombarding the target. Because of the range, the semi-trailer had plenty of time to swerve out of the way.

“There’s something to be said about the near instantaneous transmission of a laser to its target,” Will said. “Once a laser is within range, it’s impossible to dodge. Whose bright idea was it to equip the technicals with plasma turrets rather than laser cannons?”

“Not mine,” Miles replied.

“Have the technicals hold their fire until we’re closer,” Rhea said, her voice calm, methodical. “Five hundred meters away. Then I want them to coordinate their fire. Target the left, right, and central positions all at the same time. Make it so that no matter where Veil swerves, a plasma bolt will be waiting to greet her.”

“When you get like this, you scare me,” Will told her. “All cold and ruthless.”

“Probably my old self coming through,” Rhea said.

“Then I’m glad I never met your old self,” he commented.

“Don’t worry, you might meet her yet,” she taunted.

Will glanced at Horatio in the back seat. “I’m not looking forward to the day.”

“I rather enjoy it when she becomes this way,” Horatio said. “Bloodthirsty. Heartless. It’s an interesting case study in the dual, conflicted nature of humanity. A case study for why a robot should never aspire to be a human.”

“You’re not helping,” Rhea told the robot.

“Am I distracting you from what comes?” Horatio asked.

“Not really,” Rhea replied.

“Then you’re right, I’m not helping,” the robot said. “I will proceed to deactivate my vocalization subroutines.”

“You do that, Tin Bucket,” Miles said.

Horatio cocked that polycarbonate head. “You’re lucky you’re an albino.”

Miles’ brows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Because I wouldn’t let any of the others get away with saying something like that,” Horatio explained.

“The heck you talking about?” Miles said. “You a prejudiced, racist robot or something?”

“You’re the one who called me Tin Bucket…” Horatio said.

Will spun around. “Like Rhea said, you’re not helping.” Will ran a finger across his lips. “Zip it.”

“I was trying to, but he—” Horatio started.

Will made the zipping gesture again, and Horatio remained silent. Will glanced at Miles. “You too, Albino.”

Miles glowered, but kept his mouth shut.

The convoy continued to close. But before they were within the optimal firing range Rhea desired, the semi jettisoned its load.

The trailer quickly ground to a halt, its front end missing wheels of any kind.

Free of its burden, the main vehicle sped up, but not by a large margin.

“The semi is still going slower than we are,” Will said. “Within an hour, we’ll reach the requested firing range.”

“Then we have time for a quick detour,” Rhea said.

Will gave her a curious glance. “You think Veil is hiding in the trailer?”

“We’d be remiss if we didn’t check,” Rhea told him.

“What if it’s rigged to blow?” Will asked.

Jairlin, who was listening in over the comm, spoke: “My team will check it out. You guys stay back, watch remotely.”

“Too bad we don’t have more robots with us,” Miles said. “They’d be perfect for this.”

“Hey!” Horatio told the albino. “Robots are not expendable.”

Miles snorted. “Says the robot.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll melt the doors with our plasma rifles,” Jairlin transmitted. “We’ll keep our distance in case she’s rigged.”

Horatio leaned toward her. “If you do want to send someone in, I suggest the rest of us approaching no further than one kilometer. If there’s a bomb aboard, even that range might not be enough to save us.”

Rhea considered. “Actually, I think I’d prefer a two-kilometer berth.” Via her overhead map, she plotted a course around the trailer, and sent it to Will. “We keep going along this route.”

“You got it,” Will said.

The SUVs and their technical escorts altered course a moment later to follow the trajectory she’d plotted.

“I want one of the technicals to break away,” Rhea said. “Have it proceed to within two hundred meters and blast open the doors. Recall Gizmo: the drone will be our eyes.”

“As usual, treating the robots as disposable…” Horatio said.

She glanced at Horatio. “Sorry, my friend.”

“It’s okay,” Horatio said. “I understand. You’re going to put the lives of humans and cyborgs above that of robots. It’s only natural.”

Rhea didn’t have an answer to that.

One of the technicals broke away and raced across the rocky plains toward the target. As it got closer, Rhea kept expecting the trailer to detonate, enveloping the plains and the incoming technical in a massive explosion.

But that didn’t happen.

The technical halted two hundred meters out and released a test plasma bolt. The blast smashed into the barn doors at the rear of the trailer, causing a red-hot circle to appear, but it didn’t otherwise penetrate.

“Thick armor,” Will commented.

The technical released several more shots and in moments had melted through; the molten remains of the doors dripped from their hinges to the rocky ground below. The trailer wasn’t rigged to blow after all. At least not yet.

“Will?” Rhea said. “Gizmo.”

The drone scout had been hovering at the ready above the site, and it swooped down then. Rhea tapped into the remote video feed.

The trailer did indeed harbor Veil’s quarters. There was a luxurious bed, with silk curtains hanging from the ceiling around it. Paintings and tapestries hung from the walls, depicting the black-robed Veil in various poses of victory, usually standing over the corpse of some defeated opponent: usually men or cyborgs. There was often a large number written underneath. Rhea guess that was the bounty paid for the kill.

Rhea swore she wasn’t going to allow her own portrait to be added to these walls.

“A missile launcher or nuke, huh?” Miles taunted Brinks.

“Hey, it seemed plausible at the time,” Brinks said.

“Are those paintings supposed to be bounty kills?” Miles asked.

“I think so,” Brinks said.

“I wonder if there’s anything on the augmented reality band,” Miles said.

Rhea didn’t care. She’d seen enough.

“Recall the technical,” Rhea said. “And have Gizmo return to its previous pursuit altitude.”

“Should we change course, head directly toward the target?” Will asked.

“No,” Rhea said. “I think it’s safer to take this roundabout path until we’re clear of the trailer.”

The SUVs continued on the path she had plotted and then finally swerved back onto a direct pursuit course. The technical she’d dispatched to the trailer rejoined the convoy momentarily.

“The semi is turning westward,” Will announced. “Doubling back toward the highlands.”

Rhea tapped her chin. “What game is she playing?” She paused. “Follow.”

The convoy pursued.

After several moments, Rhea could see the outermost hills of the highlands on the horizon ahead.

“Target is swerving again,” Will said.

“Look,” Miles said.

Rhea followed his gaze. Miles was looking due south. Lurking on the horizon, directly in the path of the semi, were several small, greenish smears.

“Bioweapons,” Horatio said.

Rhea zoomed in. She observed large, avian bodies, covered in green feathers and at rest upon the plains. Their large, tusked heads were vaguely anvil-like, with long, drooping antennae, and insectile eyes gazing out upon the world from underneath thick plates. They had toothless suckers for mouths.

Tasins.

The creatures were beginning to perk up as the semi approached. Their antennae straightened, and one by one they turned their heads toward the incoming vehicle. When they spotted it, their sucker mouths dripped acid eagerly. Some stood up, revealing the four thin, bony feet that supported them: the toes were tipped with half-moon talons bigger than scythes.

“Veil is insane,” Will said.

“Either that, or ingenious,” Miles said. “She’s knows we’re not going to follow.” He glanced at Rhea nervously. “We’re not, right?”

She glanced at the overhead map. Gizmo had mapped out the whole herd. They were spread out across the plains over an area of one square kilometer.

“I have no intention of traveling into the pod,” Rhea said. “Veil wants to be stupid, it’s up to her. I’m plotting a course around the pod. We’ll intercept her somewhere on the other side. Assuming she survives.”

She laid out the course on her HUD, and the vehicles altered course to give the pod ample breathing room.

Meanwhile, Veil’s semi headed directly for the creatures.

All of the Tasins were standing by then. They jockeyed amongst themselves for position, eager to accept the obvious challenge posed by the incoming vehicle and vying to be among the first to take it on. Three bulls outcompeted all the others, shoving the smaller pod members aside so that they stood in the forefront.

Rhea watched as the semi approached the three without slowing.

The Tasins were shivering in anticipation of what they evidently thought was going to be an easy kill. After all, the semi was so much smaller than most of them, especially the bulls, who towered over it like dinosaurs.

And then, when the semi was almost a hundred meters out from the foremost members of the pod, the lead bull lunged forward. The sucker slammed downward, but the semi managed to swerve out of the way.

The bull swiped at it with a foot, raking those talons into the metal exterior and flipping the vehicle onto its side. Before the semi struck the ground, several harpoons shot out from the vehicle’s left flank, and stabbed the huge bull in the upper back.

The Tasin roared in pain, a stentorian sound that carried across the plains. The semi rapidly reeled in the cords connected to the harpoons, which caused the vehicle to be carried into the air. In seconds it plunged into the feathers of the bull’s upper back, causing the Tasin to bellow once more. The semi remained glued there, attached firmly to the Tasin’s upper back.

The huge creature kept fidgeting, trying to slough away the parasite: it couldn’t quite reach the semi with its acid-dripping maw, so it resorted to repeatedly clawing at the vehicle and smashing its body into the ground, all to no avail. Other Tasins tried to rip the semi away as well, but Veil was apparently wary of those acid-dripping suckers, because whenever another Tasin’s mouth got too close, the offending bioweapon was met with a faceful of plasma fire from the passenger or driver sides. Eventually the other Tasins got the hint and left the semi alone.

The bull continued to occasionally molest the unwanted passenger with its claws but appeared resigned to the fact that it would be carrying a stowaway, at least for a while.

“Well,” Brinks said. “This is interesting.”

“I’ve seen vehicles like these before,” Miles said. “They’re designed for hunting the smaller bioweapons, and meant to take down prey without inflicting too much bodily damage—you know, so they have more parts to sell on the exotics markets in the Far East. Anyway, the vehicles can shoot harpoons from the fore and flanks, which embed in their prey. The stricken bioweapon usually flees, dragging the vehicle with it, and eventually the prey runs itself to death. Never quite heard of the harpoons used in this way, though.”

“Like I said, insane,” Will commented.

“She’s taunting us,” Rhea said. “Telling us: if we want her, to come get her.”

“We’re going to wait her out, of course,” Brinks said. “We’re not crazy enough to approach the pod, are we?”

Rhea didn’t answer.

“Crap,” Brinks said.

“The plasma turrets on the technicals are more than enough to keep them at bay,” Rhea said.

“Yeah, except there are so damn many of them,” Will complained.

“If you don’t want to come, I’ll understand,” Rhea said. She transmitted over the main comm band so that all the Wardenites could hear. “I’ll have one of the technicals stay behind. You can board it.”

“Oh, no one said anything about not coming,” Will told her.

“And the rest of you?” Rhea glanced toward the back seat; the Wardenites nodded their heads.

“We’re in,” Jairlin transmitted. “We’ve come this far…”

“We’re not about to abandon you now,” Miles agreed.

Rhea sighed softly. A part of her had been hoping they would accept her proposal and stay behind, because it meant she wouldn’t have to protect them all.

“Have the convoy set a course for the bull,” she said.

The vehicles changed directions and cut across the plains to head directly for the bull that harbored Veil’s semi.

“What’s the plan?” Will asked. “We shoot down that bull, and keep firing until we surgically remove the vehicle from its back?”

“Something like that,” Rhea said.

The pod members were perking up, and they began turning toward these latest newcomers. Once more their suckers dripped acid in anticipation.

She fetched her pistol and leaned out the passenger window.

“Shoot them in the mouth,” Rhea sent.

16

As the convoy got closer, Rhea noted that the Tasin carrying Veil’s semi had retreated to the center of the pod, apparently fearing it might acquire yet another parasite. It had placed several other bioweapons between itself and the convoy.

“Fire,” Rhea said.

The technicals pulled ahead and opened fire; plasma bolts slammed into bioweapons in the forefront. The stricken creatures backed away, screaming in pain.

The technicals continued to shoot at the Tasins, but the pod was huge, and it seemed like there was always another creature dashing forth to replace any that fell.

“Stop!” Rhea said when they were about a hundred meters from the enemy line. “Back up!”

The convoy came to a halt and backed away. The technicals continued to fire as the pod gave chase. Rhea joined in, as did the other Wardenites, leaning from the windows of the SUV.

One of the technicals was too close to the enemy line, and it was flipped onto its side when a creature swiped at it.

A bull led the charge.

Rhea aimed her pistol at its sickening mouth and fired several shots in rapid succession. The bull swung its head to and fro, as if trying to shake off the blow, but continued running. It was fast catching up with the retreating convoy and would soon overtake them.

“Have the technicals concentrate fire on the mouth of the bull!” Rhea sent.

The technicals bombarded the bull. Plasma bolts ripped into its face, and the creature slowed, coming to a halt as the others passed it. When the plasma fire stopped, it was to reveal a bloody, gaping hole in its face. The creature collapsed and didn’t get up.

As the convoy continued to retreat, she had the technicals concentrate their fire on different Tasins in the forefront that were getting too close. A good seventy-five percent of the pod was giving chase. The other twenty-five percent remained behind: the bull with the semi strapped to it was among them.

As she watched, the semi released its harpoons and dropped to the ground. It drove through the smaller group of bioweapons—plasma fire erupted from the cabin now and then to keep the creatures at bay. In seconds it burst through their ranks and raced away west. A few Tasins pursued, but quickly gave up the chase when they received plasma blasts to the face.

“Keep firing,” Rhea ordered. “But turn us around! Head west!”

The vehicles spun around, front ends drifting over the rocky terrain. Then they accelerated, swerving away from the incoming Tasins to pursue Veil once more. The plasma turrets in the technicals swiveled so as to remain trained upon the bioweapons the whole time, or tried to anyway: there were too many of the creatures to track, and because the convoy had slowed slightly during the directional reversal, a couple of Tasins got a bit too close. Three more technicals were crumpled. Another Tasin almost got a fourth technical, but Rhea, still leaning out of her window, targeted its main sucker with her pistol, and managed to repel it.

Even though the vehicles were now accelerating in their forward directions, some of the faster Tasins were still able to gain upon them. The convoy continued to bombard the creatures, at least for the first few moments: unfortunately, the plasma turrets bolted to different technicals began to overheat and stopped firing. The indicators of the effected vehicles flashed blue on the overhead map.

One of the big bulls suddenly leaped into the air and came arcing down toward Rhea’s SUV.

“Swerve!” she yelled as she fired at the incoming creature. The other Wardenites leaning outside similarly targeted it with their rifles, but it wasn’t like they’d be able to stop that huge blob of feathers and legs from coming crashing down upon them.

The SUV turned and narrowly avoided being crushed beneath the bull. The creature landed hard, collapsing, but then crawled to its feet a moment later, dusted itself off, and rejoined the pursuit.

Turrets continued to overheat, causing more technicals to cease firing. This allowed more of the Tasins to approach vaulting range.

“I want the overheaters to draw them off!” Rhea transmitted. “Have them break away one at a time. Slowly. The goal is to bring as many Tasins with them as possible each time.”

The pick-up trucks that had stopped firing began to swerve away from the group, one at a time as she requested. Each departure drew some of the bioweapons. The defenseless technicals were often quickly overtaken and destroyed.

There were only about ten Tasins pursuing now. They were still closing. Two of them tried to vault toward the convoy, like the bull had, but the SUVs and technicals scattered each time, and the creatures smashed only into the hard rock of the ground.

“I want the remaining technicals to concentrate their fire on one Tasin at a time!” Rhea ordered. “As designated by my pistol!”

She targeted the closest creature and the vehicles joined in, as did the Wardenites. The bioweapon went down shortly. She switched her aim to the next creature, and the next: sometimes the blows killed the targeted Tasin outright, other times the blast merely debilitated it, but the effect was the same: the creature would drop out of the pursuit.

When there were only four Tasins still pursuing, none of them bulls, the creatures lost heart and gave up the chase.

Rhea exhaled in relief as the bioweapons receded and pulled herself back into the SUV.

“Well, that was fun,” Will said.

Rhea nodded, her gaze intent on the distant smudge of the semi ahead. It was fast approaching the northernmost hills of the highlands.

“I sense sarcasm in your voice,” Horatio commented. “But I must admit, I particularly enjoyed it. There’s something satisfying about terminating a biological abomination.”

“Just like there’s something satisfying about terminating machine abominations?” Miles hinted.

Horatio looked at him with that expressionless face.

“Don’t give me that look,” Miles said.

“What look?” Brinks said. “He’s got no expression.”

“My point exactly,” Miles said. “Hey Tin Bucket, stop looking at me.”

Horatio didn’t comply. The unblinking gray visor that served as the robot’s eyes bored into him.

“Horatio, calm down brother,” Will said. “He’s only human.”

The robot nodded at that and looked away. “Only human. I can’t blame him for that.”

“You’re lucky I’m sitting between you two,” Brinks told Miles. “I don’t think the robot likes you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Miles replied.

Rhea felt the need to interject. “I’m part robot. Ninety percent.”

“Yes,” Miles agreed. “But you have a human brain. And that makes all the difference. Because of that, I’d argue you were actually ninety percent human, and only ten percent robot.”

Rhea couldn’t disagree with that. “My point is… try to be nice. We’re all on the same team here.”

Miles nodded. “I got you, Warden.”

The convoy was gaining on the semi; however, the target was still well out of range of any meaningful plasma fire, so Rhea could only watch helplessly as it reached the outskirts of the highlands and vanished behind a hill. However, Gizmo, pursuing far above, continued to track their prey, ensuring the convoy wouldn’t lose Veil.

“This is where the drone we sent north vanished,” Will said.

“I know,” Rhea said. “Has Gizmo spotted anything out of the ordinary among the hills?”

“Not yet,” Will said. “But if there are men here, or weapons, they’re likely camouflaged.”

As they neared the hill beyond which the semi had vanished, the ground unfolded, and a wicked quad-pronged turret emerged. Multiple energy bolts erupted from it.

The vehicles in the convoy automatically activated their evasion algorithms. Will took control of the SUV, and turned far to the left, then right, zigzagging.

The plasma cannons bolted to the truck beds had mostly cooled down by then, and across the convoy those weapons opened fire. In seconds the opposing turret was reduced to so much slag.

“Well, I guess now we know what eliminated the drone we sent north!” Will commented.

“I want the technicals to take the lead,” Rhea said.

“Still using machines as cannon fodder…” Horatio commented as the pickup trucks pulled ahead.

“If they were men, I’d do the same,” Rhea said. “Because we’re only losing one entity if those technicals are hit, versus the five who reside in each SUV.”

When the vehicle passed by the wreckage of the turret, she commented: “A good little defense against bioweapons and other intruders.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “But you know, the last time I visited a Black Hands outpost in the Outlands, it was surrounded by sonic maskers to prevent bioweapons from ferreting them out. Guess they’ve updated their defenses since.”

“I’m sure there are sonic maskers here if we look closely enough,” Horatio said. “It’s better to be preventive, when it comes to bioweapons, than reactive.”

“Speaking of which, what’s the point of having a drone scouting ahead if it can’t detect enemy turrets!” Miles said.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Veil’s turrets are fairly well hidden,” Will said.

“It’s quite the setup our friend Veil has for herself here,” Miles said. “Whenever Aradne security forces come knocking, her minions merely hide in their caves, and the turrets disappear underground.”

The convoy passed between two of the hills and officially entered the northern highlands. Space became tight, as the slopes on either side were far too rocky to drive upon, and soon there was only enough room for the vehicles to travel two abreast. Rhea gave the order to advance in single file, so that the vehicles would have space to maneuver if an attack came.

“Will, I want you to cede control of the vehicle to the AI,” Rhea said.

“But I don’t trust it,” Will told her. “I’d rather have my life in my own hands.”

“I know you would,” Rhea said. “But if a turret emerges nearby, and targets us first, you won’t necessarily know what direction the bolts are coming from. You might turn directly into the attack. This route is too cramped. Even if you keep watch from Gizmo’s perspective, there’s still a good chance you could mess up. It’s better this way.”

Will sighed, and reluctantly ceded control of the vehicle to the AI core.

“All right, but if the machine kills me, I’m blaming you,” he quipped.

She smiled indulgently.

Unsurprisingly, more turrets unfolded from the ground ahead, usually farther up the slopes. They often targeted the SUVs; the AIs always swerved them out of the way, sometimes only just in time. Meanwhile, the remaining members of the convoy shot down the attack platforms.

One of the lead technicals was taken out by a surprise turret that emerged almost directly in front of it. After the attack platform was eliminated, the following technicals were forced to slam into the wreckage of the broken pickup truck, scattering its broken pieces out of the way.

“Gizmo is reporting a cave entrance of some kind, not far ahead,” Will said. “The semi is pulling up in front of it.”

Rhea nodded.

No further attack platforms emerged to molest them. Rhea didn’t really find that reassuring. For all she knew, some of the turrets were remaining hidden, perhaps intending to spring upon the team during the retreat. If the convoy was being pursued at that point, the results wouldn’t be pretty.

As the SUV pulled around a bend, she spotted the semi ahead, parked next to a small cave entrance. The doors were closed, but the vehicle otherwise looked abandoned—she saw no one lurking past the windows. Then again, she couldn’t properly see inside from the lower height of the SUV.

“Full stop,” Rhea said. “Will, get Gizmo to perform a preliminary scan.”

The convoy stopped and Gizmo descended. Constantly weaving back and forth so as to avoid becoming too stationary of a target, the drone darted in front of the different windows. Then the drone swooped low, sliding to and fro next to the undercarriage.

“The cabin is empty, according to Giz,” Will said. “And the underside is clear.”

Rhea nodded. “Send Gizmo into the cave. Fifty meters.”

Will gave her a hesitant look. It was obvious he was worried about losing the drone.

She raised an eyebrow. “Unless you’d rather one of us scouted?”

“No,” he said.

The drone darted into the cave a moment later.

Rhea tapped into its video feed, and saw the LIDAR generated walls, floor and ceiling pass by. The cave proved empty, at least near the front.

At the fifty-meter mark the scout halted.

“Nothing up to fifty meters,” Will said.

“Bring us in,” she ordered. “Slowly.”

The technicals approached slowly, and the SUVs followed.

“Should we destroy the semi?” Brinks asked.

“What, and waste perfectly good salvage?” Will replied. “I don’t think so.”

“Leave the semi,” Rhea agreed. “We’ll hack its ignition system later.”

The technicals formed a half circle in front of the cave and semi; some of them kept their turrets trained on the bigger vehicle, as if expecting it to come alive at any moment. Rhea didn’t blame the machines: she half expected it to detonate or something, too. The remaining technicals scanned the surrounding hills with their weaponry, and the cave entrance.

“We’re going to clear the semi,” Jairlin announced.

“Careful,” Rhea said. “The door might be rigged.”

“Should we stay back?” Will asked.

“Probably a good idea,” she replied.

Their SUV halted while Jairlin’s continued into the protective ring of pickup trucks. A couple of the technicals backed up to act as shields around Rhea’s vehicle.

Jairlin and the Wardenites emerged from the second SUV; while some of them stood watch, keeping their weapons trained on the hills and cave, others searched the semi. The doors were unlocked, so they made short work of it.

“The drone was right,” Jairlin announced. “It’s empty. There are no obvious charges or bombs in the cabin.”

One of the Wardenites lay flat on the ground next to the semi and scanned the underside of the vehicle with a small flashlight. “Undercarriage is clear as well.”

“All right,” Rhea said. “Let’s go.”

She opened the door and stepped out. Then she approached the cave.

“We keep having to enter caves…” Will said.

“I have a feeling this will be the last of them,” Rhea said.

Jairlin and the others took the lead, while Rhea’s group followed next.

Beyond them, Gizmo led the way into the long dark.

17

Rhea stepped carefully across the pitch-black cave. The walls, outlined in white wireframes courtesy of the LIDAR bursts Gizmo released, were fairly tight around them; while she didn’t have to crouch, Will and some of the taller men did. And while there was room enough for them to travel two abreast, they moved in single file, slightly offset from one another so that they formed a zigzag pattern when viewed from above on the overhead map.

She had sheathed her pistol and instead was ready to deploy her Ban’Shar at a moment’s notice.

“I should be in front,” Rhea said over the comm. “I’m the only one who can protect you all against unexpected plasma attacks.”

“There won’t be any unexpected attacks,” Will sent between what sounded like gritted teeth. “We’ll have ample warning, thanks to Gizmo, who’ll be the first to go down.”

She tapped into Gizmo’s feed and positioned it in the upper right of her vision.

The walls eventually fell away around the drone as it entered a wider cavern.

Just like that the feed winked out.

“And there’s our warning,” Will transmitted. “Gizmo is down.”

“Everyone, drop,” Rhea said. “Turn on local LIDAR.”

The men dropped and activated their own LIDAR so they wouldn’t be deceived by outdated data if enemies decided to approach.

Jairlin led the way. He reached the opening and scanned the room.

“Lots of places to hide in here,” he transmitted. “Stalagmites everywhere. There’s a bunch close to the entrance. My men and I are going to take up positions behind the nearest.”

She glanced at her overhead map and watched as the Wardenites split up, separating to take cover behind the aforementioned stalagmites.

She reached the entrance with Will. The chamber was wide, with stalagmites scattered across the floor, and matching stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

Will crawled inside past the entrance. At first Rhea wondered what he was doing, and then she spotted the wreckage of Gizmo not far from him. He reached it, retrieved the drone, and retreated back to the entrance. When he was safely crouched inside, he shoved the drone into his backpack.

“Is it salvageable?” Rhea asked softly.

“Looks like Giz took most of the damage to the power cell region,” he replied. “I think she’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Rhea returned her attention to the cavern.

She activated her Ban’Shar and stepped out. The blue glow lit up the surrounding rock, and her body.

“Wait!” Jairlin said. “You’ll—”

Incoming fire immediately came from the stalagmites. Smiling wickedly, she swung her Ban’Shar into place. This was exactly what she had wanted: for her enemies to reveal their positions.

“Open fire!” she sent. “Take them out while I distract them!”

She walked calmly forward, being careful to deflect any incoming bolts upward and away from the Wardenites crouching behind the rock structures before her.

When she stepped through a gap in the stalagmites and passed her men, she attempted to bat the energy bolts directly back toward those who launched them. Her attackers had to partially expose themselves to fire out from behind their cover, and she succeeded in causing a few of them to topple. Humanoid shapes, one and all. Black Hands, no doubt.

She stopped her advance when incoming fire came from the sides, and realized she’d walked a little too far. She quickly crouched and retreated, moving the Ban’Shar through a half-circle pattern around her to protect her front and sides.

When she was close to her Wardenites once more, she dropped to one knee and continued to deflect the bolts at her enemies. Meanwhile, the men behind her provided backup. She considered simply rushing the enemy, but decided it was too risky. Not only would she have to worry about an attack from the sides, but there could be enemies lurking within the stalactites overhead, waiting for her to commit such a mistake so they could mow her down. She’d essentially have to rotate the Ban’Shar through a half sphere if she wanted full protection—a very tricky maneuver, in her mind.

And then a large, glowing ellipse arced through the air toward her. It lit up the surrounding cave with its blue light. She attempted to bat it aside, but it detonated as soon as her Ban’Shar touched it, and she was thrown back. She had to shut down the Ban’Shar, otherwise the disks would have cut into her face.

“Energy grenades!” Will said.

When she heard those two words, something instinctual activated in her mind.

Two more energy grenades came in. This time, instead of waiting for the grenades to come to her, she scrambled to her feet and rushed toward them. With gritted teeth she reactivated the Ban’Shar and held the plasma disks before her, so that when the grenades impacted, she met them with her full forward momentum.

She braced her arms against her abdomen as the devices detonated, and this time she was only shoved backward a half pace.

A few more grenades came in. She noted that the men who had thrown them slumped a moment later, shot down by her Wardenites.

She rushed these new grenades, braced her elbows against her belly, and similarly absorbed them.

More incoming fire came in, and she segued into her deflection routine. It was like some artistic dance from the Far East, except instead of weaving fans through the air, she wove Ban’Shar. Deadly bolts bounced back into her enemies by the dozens.

“Enough!” Veil shouted.

The incoming fire ceased.

Floodlights clicked on across the room. In the light, she could see where the Black Hands were hidden behind some of the stalagmites ahead. They crouched lower.

Rhea left her LIDAR mode active, just in case her enemy decided to unceremoniously shut off the floodlights again. It meant she could still see white wireframes outlining the fully lit objects of the cave.

From a large stalactite in the center of the room, Veil leaped down. Her black robe fanned out majestically around her until she struck the ground.

“I challenge you, one on one, to a duel,” Veil said. “Leave my men alone.”

“You actually care about your men?” Rhea side. “I find that hard to believe. I’ll accept, on one condition. When you say one on one, you have to mean it: I expect you to drop those spare robots you have connected to your body.”

Veil studied her for a moment, then sloughed her cloak entirely.

The cyborg’s arms and legs fell off, along with the lower half of her torso. Those parts sprouted limbs, and individual robots, humanoid in shape, stepped off to one side. They promptly ducked behind nearby stalagmites and out of the firing line of the Wardenites.

The smaller humanoid that Veil had been reduced to stood straight, and she spread her arms as if to indicate she wasn’t hiding anything. “Satisfied?”

Veil was about the same size as Rhea now. The cyborg looked identical to the smaller robots that had formerly composed her, save for the fully animated woman’s face glued onto her metal skull. And though that face was beautiful by itself, taken as a whole it was grotesque, and definitely unsettling.

Veil appeared unarmed, but Rhea knew her enemy was harboring a weapon somewhere.

“Don’t do it,” Will transmitted. “She’s lying. She’s not going to grant you anything close to a fair fight.”

If there’s a chance I can end this faster, I have to try, Rhea returned over a mental channel. Chop off the head of the snake… besides, if she betrays me, it’s open season, and you can fire at will. Shoot her in the back, even.

“Maybe I’ll do that anyway,” Will said.

No, Rhea transmitted. Wait until she betrays me.

Rhea approached, well aware of the pistols and rifles among the hidden Black Hands tracking her. Veil stepped forward, so that the two would meet at the middle.

When they were four meters apart, a blade jumped from Veil’s wrist. It was coated in plasma. Some kind of later variant of the X2-59. Longer. Deadlier.

She leaped at Rhea and attacked.

Veil moved so fast that all Rhea could do was defend at first.

Rhea backed away beneath that flurry of blows, parrying as fast as she was able. She couldn’t go on the offensive. Didn’t have time. But even if there were openings for an attack, she was too far away from Veil, thanks to the length of that sword, for the edges of her Ban’Shar to even get close enough for a hit.

She brought both disks forward to deflect against the latest attack, and as the blow deflected, she pointed her index fingers forward. The disks transformed into blades, and she slammed her hands together, combining the plasma blades into a single, long sword that rivaled Veil’s.

The enemy cyborg stepped back. “Impressive.”

Veil came at her with renewed strength, the blows coming fast and furious. Rhea instinctively blocked them with sword forms she didn’t even know were in her repertoire, forms buried deep in her muscle memory.

Rhea parried one particularly powerful blow and then issued a rapid riposte, catching Veil off guard. The cyborg twisted, trying to avoid the blade, but the Ban’Shar partially cut into her side. Only a glancing blow, but Rhea had drawn “first blood.”

Veil slapped away Rhea’s weapon with her own and immediately stepped back. “You have some skill; I grant you that. Though I suppose that’s not surprising, considering what you were.” She paused, cocked her head, and added: “Do it.”

Rhea spotted motion at the periphery of her vision, above. At the same time, Veil thrust and Rhea was forced to parry. She sidestepped, backing away quickly from Veil. She separated her palms and squeezed them into fists, transforming the Ban’Shar back into disks as she raised them over her head.

Plasma fire shot down from above and she deflected it back toward the source. A lucky redirect on her part, because a moment later a humanoid form dropped to the cave floor. It was a cyborg of some kind, with a human face glued to a robot body, just like Veil. A plasma rifle lay abandoned beside it, and a gooey cavity carved into its torso was sizzling. It didn’t get up.

Will was right, it had been a trap. Deceived by her foe yet again.

How could I be so naive?

But she knew how. She still trusted people. She only had memories leading back a few months at this point, to her birth outside Rust Town. It was in her nature to be naive.

“I’m roasting her ass,” Will announced.

Plasma fire from the Wardenites came in and Veil ducked behind a stalagmite. Rhea dove behind another rock as the Black Hands also opened fire. She pressed her back against it and protected her sides with the Ban’Shar.

She heard a rolling sound and knew what was coming.

She flicked one of her Ban’Shar upward as one the robots that had once been part of Veil vaulted over the stalagmite that shielded Rhea. It tried to impale her with those finger spikes, but the ends disintegrated as they slammed into her protective disk, leaving behind molten tips.

The Wardenites took out the robot before it hit the ground.

Rhea had only just lowered her Ban’Shar to protect against the incoming fire when she heard that rolling sound yet again—from the overlapping timbres, multiple robots approached. The energy bolts from the Black Hands were keeping her well pinned, and she didn’t dare risk raising them to defend against the robots, not even for a moment.

She made a split-second decision to rush Veil in that moment.

She left her cover, surprising the three incoming robots before they could leap. She swung her Ban’Shar back and forth, deflecting the Black Hands’ bombardment, and weaved between the robots. They lifted their hands, trying to deploy those spikes, but she sliced through them in rapid succession with her Ban’Shar.

In moments she rounded the stalagmite where Veil was taking cover, but the cyborg was ready, and stabbed upward with the plasma-coated blade, sliding it between her Ban’Shar disks.

Rhea was forced to twist her body to avoid it; Veil altered her swing subtly and severed one of Rhea’s hands. The Ban’Shar on it deactivated immediately, leaving her with only one.

Rhea was forced to retreat as Veil pressed the attack. Rhea had to constantly shift the weapon to deflect the attacks from Black Hands, while dodging Veil’s blows. Veil zigzagged randomly as she moved, so that even though she was in the open, the Wardenites couldn’t hit her. Rhea copied that tactic, and it helped her evade the shots from the Black Hands.

She turned away from Veil and ran toward a group of Black Hands who were hiding behind a nearby stalagmite. She leaped over it, swinging her remaining Ban’Shar down to protect herself, and then when she landed, she transformed it into a blade and sliced through all four of them with a single swing.

Then she ducked behind the stalagmite as more fire came in, and transformed the sword back into a shield. She peered past, searching for Veil.

The cyborg had been forced to take cover behind another nearby stalagmite, thanks to the Wardenites.

Rhea was about to rush her again when she noticed a sharp stalactite hanging down directly above Veil. Without thinking, she curled her weapon arm back and then rapidly extended it outward, toward the upper part of the stalactite. Via the remote interface, at the same time she loosened the buckle that held the weapon to her hand, and the disk flew off.

The motion drew Veil’s gaze, and she glanced toward the weapon in shock, raising her sword to defend. But it wasn’t meant for her, of course: the plasma disk smashed into the stalactite, cutting right thought it. The large piece plunged directly toward Veil.

The cyborg vaulted out of the way.

Rhea had already leaped onto the floor to scoop up her own severed hand; she doffed the Ban’Shar knuckles and slipped them onto her good hand, activating the weapon as a blade. She moved faster than she ever had, causing smoke to billow from her strained servomotors, and raised the plasma sword in time to meet Veil, who was only just landing after her leap to avoid the stalactite.

The enemy cyborg brought her gaze forward, but by then it was too late: Rhea’s blade was already plunging into Veil’s torso. Rhea lifted the sword at the same time, cutting a swathe through that body, damaging circuits and power supply lines throughout.

Veil slumped on the blade.

Rhea deactivated it and let Veil drop to the floor. She dragged her enemy behind the closest stalagmite.

She was forced to turn on the Ban’Shar in shield mode to protect herself when plasma fire came in from the side.

“Your master is dead,” Rhea shouted. “Run away now, and we might spare you.”

The shooting subsided on both sides. The Black Hands didn’t do anything for many seconds—Rhea was under the impression they were having some mental communication—and then they began to retreat beneath the still shining floodlights.

A Wardenite shot one of them in the back, but Rhea yelled: “Let them go!”

No one fired again.

Her eyes drifted to the broken stalactite. She didn’t know she could do that. Interesting.

She returned her attention to the unconscious Veil, and quickly removed the X2-59 equivalent the cyborg had strapped to her wrist and tossed it aside.

Veil’s eyes opened. Rhea started and prepared to deploy her Ban’Shar if necessary.

But Veil didn’t try to attack. Instead, the cyborg woman stared at her desperately.

“You’ve damaged my backup power cells,” Veil said. Her voice distorted, as if her vocal generators were close to failure. “I have only a few minutes to live without them. Quickly, hook me up to your power source.”

Rhea didn’t move.

“Quickly, you bitch!” Veil said.

Rhea merely blinked nonchalantly.

Her greatest enemy stared at her in astonishment. “You’re not going to help me…” Before Rhea could answer, she laughed. The distortion in her voice made it sound hideous. “Killing me won’t stop them from hunting you. The hit has already been ordered. I am just one bounty hunter. I have other hunters who work for me, true, but there are hundreds of independents out there.”

“Who ordered the hit on me?” Rhea said.

“Don’t you know?” Veil said. “Surely you must suspect.”

“I have my list,” Rhea agreed. “And it’s a short one.”

Veil smiled sickeningly. “The bounty on your head was posted by the leader of the free world. President of the United Settlements, and esteemed member of the Earth’s High Council. Khrusos.” She coughed, and a mixture of oil and blood spurted from her lips and oozed across her cheeks. “Give me your power supply, and I will help you.”

“Help me, how?” Rhea asked.

“Connect me to your power supply…” Veil insisted.

Rhea shook her head. “Not until you clarify.”

Veil hesitated. Then: “Proceed deeper into the cave. Within, you’ll find my gift to you. A little something you can use to repay Khrusos.”

“What?” Rhea asked.

Veil coughed again, spewing more oil and blood. Her sickening smile deepened, revealing teeth bloodstained with the effluence. “I’m not entirely sure… I’ve never been inside. No Earthling… has. But you…”

Veil’s mouth stopped moving and her eyes glazed over.

Rhea felt a moment of panic.

Not yet! I still have more questions!

She quickly opened up her own chest panel and removed the power transference cord. She plugged it into a corresponding port in Veil’s side. Nothing happened.

“Come on!” She slammed a fist into Veil’s lacerated chest. Still nothing.

Horatio came up behind her. “It’s too late.”

Rhea slouched in defeat. She knew Horatio was right. Still, for the disappointment she felt, she also experienced relief, sheer and utter. It was over now. Veil would never hunt her again. Unfortunately, there would be other hunters…

Rhea sat up straight and removed the power cord. She closed her chest panel and gazed at the cyborg. “I almost feel sorry for her.”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Will said, appearing on her other side.

“It is,” Rhea said. “But killing someone seems like such a crude solution to a problem.”

“In this case, it was the only solution,” Will stated.

“Was it?” Rhea asked. “It sounded like she was ready to reconcile there, at the end.”

Will snorted. “Yeah, right. As soon as you plugged her in, she would have cut off your head and dug out your power cells to take as her own.”

“Maybe,” Rhea said. “Still, I would’ve liked to have wrung a little bit more out of her.”

“She told you what you already suspected about Khrusos,” Will said.

Rhea exhaled at the name. Khrusos. The man who had set the bounty on her head. The President of the United Settlements. “Yes, she did. But I still don’t know why she called me ‘Dagger.’”

Will frowned. “Did she? I don’t remember that.”

“It was indirect” Rhea clarified. “She said she was soon going to be known as the ‘Defeater of the Dagger.’”

Will inclined his head. “Oh, yeah.”

She glanced at the others, who loomed behind him. “How are the men?”

“They’re all here,” Will answered. “Miles took a hit to the arm, but we’ve patched him up.”

She glanced at Miles and saw the white bandage he wore over his bicep. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Just a flesh wound.”

Rhea gazed toward the far side of the cavern, and the tunnel that awaited, leading away into the darkness.

“You’re not really considering proceeding deeper into the cave, are you?” Will asked. “We got what we came for…”

“Yeah, this ‘gift’ Veil left you is probably a bomb,” Brinks said. “Ticking away at this very moment. Wouldn’t surprise me if, in a couple of minutes, the entire cave system went boom.”

Rhea considered that. “No, I don’t think so.” She remembered Veil’s last words.

I’ve never been inside. No Earthling has.

No Earthling.

She stood. “We go deeper.”

18

Rhea collected the X2-59 equivalent, her severed hand, and the other Ban’Shar knuckle. She gave them to Will for safekeeping, who slid them into his backpack.

Rhea and the Wardenites didn’t encounter any Black Hands lurking immediately inside the next tunnel. The minions of Veil had slunk back to whatever dark holes they’d come from. Then again, perhaps the Black Hands were waiting to attack around the next bend.

Jairlin was in the lead with his group, as before. Rhea had authorized the use of their headlamps, as LIDAR was just as betraying, if not more so. Not that the lamps added much color to the scene: the walls were still a dark gray.

“So how far do you intend on exploring?” Brinks asked. “We could be in here for hours. And we risk another encounter with the Black Hands.”

“If we don’t find anything in the next hour, we turn back,” Rhea promised. Will was right: she had gotten what she had come for. And while Veil’s minions might be docile for the time being, hiding as they were somewhere deeper in the cave, they would no doubt fight back if cornered.

As she continued, she began to notice colors in the tunnel walls, courtesy of the headlamps of her companions.

She wanted to get a better look but, seeing as she didn’t wear a lamp of her own, she turned toward Will: “Point your headlamp at this wall, please.”

He complied, illuminating a wall whose layers of strata were different colors: there were reds, blues, purples…

“I’m detecting a more diverse quantity of metals in these walls,” Horatio said.

Rhea glanced at the robot. “Diverse?”

“Yes,” Horatio answered. The robot’s palm was resting on the rock. “Some of these metals have structures that are too refined to be natural.”

“What are you saying?” Miles asked. “Veil built reinforcements into the walls?”

“No,” Horatio said. “I believe some sort of vessel crashed here, and these caves formed in the aftermath.”

“That would have to be quite a hefty impact,” Brinks said.

“Indeed,” Horatio commented. “My guess is the surrounding rock liquified into a magma sea upon impact. Air pockets would have formed the initial cave structures. Laser drills would have enlarged and expanded them during the years it operated as a precious gem mine.”

“So, you’re saying the refined metal you’re detecting in the wall is the wreckage of that ship?” Miles asked.

“Sort of,” Horatio said. “I wouldn’t call it a wreckage… most of the ship would have disintegrated upon impact, including any passengers. The particles would have spread throughout the molten rock, becoming encased as it cooled. Forming what you see here.”

“Metal and bones,” Will said. “A few swirls in the wall of a cave. All that remains of whatever vessel crashed onto these plains.”

“The vessel was a starship,” Rhea said with absolute certainty.

They all looked at her.

Horatio nodded slowly. “That’s certainly possible. Though size doesn’t necessarily matter in impacts such as these. Speed however, definitely plays a factor.”

Will studied her. “How do you know it was a starship?”

She had a flashback then.

She stood on the dorsal hull of a massive starship. Streaks of orange flame cut through the air all along its edges, silhouetting the enormous vessel. She was wearing a jetpack. That familiar dome of pressurization surrounded her head and neck, providing her brain with the oxygen it needed.

There were others with her. Also wearing jetpacks, and with translucent domes around their heads. She couldn’t see their faces. Their bodies were tall and lithe, made of a shiny metal that reflected everything around it. Like Rhea, their heads and shoulders were covered in artificial skin and hair.

These others leaped off the hull one by one, jetting skyward, moving away from the starship.

Only her magnetized soles kept her secured to the surface. She deactivated the magnets and jumped at the same time, initiating her jetpack. She fought against the forces generated by the bow shock of reentry, emitting lateral thrust to counter them; she arose steadily, moving away from the hull, passing through a portion of the superheated plasma that enveloped the vessel.

When she had cleared the ship, she activated her air brakes to slow herself, and jetted sideways and downward to rejoin her companions, using her overhead map to guide her. She glanced over her shoulder at the starship.

The underside of the triangular vessel was red hot, with sections already molten. The starship hadn’t been designed for atmospheric reentry. It was pockmarked with blast holes—the ship had been shot down.

“Rhea?” Will asked.

She blinked, his voice bringing her back to the present moment. She felt a moment of anger at his interruption, but then realized he probably wasn’t responsible for ending the flashback. It was just a coincidence on his part.

She ignored him and continued forward with renewed purpose.

Jairlin immediately started walking again, in order to keep his team ahead of her.

Crystalline structures began to take shape in the walls. Stacked one atop the other, they protruded in octagonal rods, their tips flats.

“Emeralds,” Jairlin said.

“We’re in the old mines,” Horatio said. “These crystals would have formed after the impact, a consequence of the extreme temperature and pressure. I’m beginning to wonder if the entire Emerald Highlands were created by the crash.” The robot glanced at Rhea. “If that’s the case, it was probably a starship after all.”

The party continued forward, until the tunnel walls opened ahead.

“We’ve reached a chamber of some kind,” Jairlin announced. “Give us a moment to clear it.”

Rhea switched to his viewpoint. He indeed stood in a chamber. Well, a cavern really. Emeralds jutted out intermittently from the walls and floor. At the center lurked a black, cube-like structure whose top and bottom were encased in the rock of floor and ceiling. It was about the size of three standard Rust Town cargo containers, in terms of breadth.

Beyond the cube, she could see corridors branching off. The Black Hands would have fled down some, or all, of those tunnels. But she already knew she was going no further into the cave system: the cube was undoubtedly the ‘gift’ Veil had referred to.

“It’s clear,” Jairlin said.

She dismissed his viewpoint and entered with the others. They fanned out in front of the cube, and slowly approached.

Horatio was the first to reach it, and he rested a metal hand on its surface.

“It’s made of a strange alloy I’ve never seen before,” Horatio said. “I’m not completely sure how it was formed, but it would’ve had to have been virtually indestructible to survive the crash.”

“Well, it’s obviously a black box,” Miles said. “Get it? You know, the flight recorder.”

Everyone ignored him, lost in their own thoughts.

Rhea neared the object. As she got closer, she realized it wasn’t encased in the rock after all: there was a trench dug all along the outer edges, both on the floor and ceiling, as if someone had tried to remove the cube from the surrounding rock. They’d managed to excavate the rock, yes, but apparently the cube had been too dense to move.

“It’s emitting gravity waves,” Horatio said.

“What are you saying?” Miles asked.

“I believe the device is still powered,” Horatio replied. “And it’s emitting these waves to artificially increase its weight.”

“So that no one could relocate it?” Miles pressed.

“I don’t know,” Horatio admitted.

Rhea ran a hand across the black surface. There were minute scratches, often flowing outward, as if evidence of blast marks. It seemed obvious that Veil, and whatever Earth governments knew about the crash site, had tried to cut into the cube but failed. All they’d been able to do was scratch it.

Not far from her, Will fired his plasma pistol at the cube. Those around him stepped back nervously as a red circle formed over the impact zone. The circle quickly faded, and the material displayed no hint of any impact.

Will’s brows knit together; he raised a tentative palm and rested it on the surface. He pulled the hand away as if expecting the cube to feel extremely hot, but evidently it was not because he pressed his palm onto the exterior once again a moment later.

“Remarkable,” he said. “It’s already dispersed the heat. That should be impossible, given our present-day science.”

“A lot of the tech the Ganymedeans had was supposedly impossible,” Horatio commented.

Rhea was reading a weak signal.

“Are you guys getting that?” she asked.

“Getting what?” Horatio replied.

“There’s a signal…” she said.

“No,” Horatio said. “We read nothing.”

“It’s possible her comm system is malfunctioning,” Jairlin suggested. “She did take quite a battering back there.”

“It’s more likely her Ganymedean mind-machine interface is picking up something human tech can’t,” Horatio said. “How do you think she’s able to activate the Ban’Shar when no one else can? It’s the subtle differences in her interface. If this object is Ganymedean, it’s entirely likely she’s the only one who can communicate with it.”

Now she understood why her head would have raised a fortune on the auction block.

A hologram appeared before Rhea: a woman, dressed in a pristine white robe. Though her hood was raised, long black hair flowed out from beneath the rim of that hood.

“Welcome, Mistress,” the woman said. “You have returned.”

“I’ve been here before?” Rhea asked. If that was true, then it must have been before Veil and her Black Hands had taken up residence. Or perhaps the woman was referring to a time before the ship had crashed.

“I have prepared your quarters,” the woman replied. Rhea noted that she had not answered the question.

“Who are you talking to?” Will asked.

A panel slid open in the cube, forming an entrance. It was dark inside.

She glanced at Will whose mouth had dropped.

“This was part of my ship,” Rhea said.

“If this was your ship, then you were part of the invasion force that came to Earth,” Miles said.

“She didn’t participate in the Great Calming,” Will told him. “You know she didn’t.”

Miles nodded. “You’re probably right.” But still, his features had darkened.

Maybe she had directly participated in the Great Calming. Or maybe she hadn’t. Either way, for some reason the possibility that she might have been involved didn’t bother her anymore. Perhaps it was because she knew she wasn’t that person anymore. The Rhea who lived today would never wipe out half a planet. Never.

Or perhaps it was merely because she was curious about what resided inside this cube.

She returned her attention to the hologram.

“Who am I?” she asked.

“You instructed me not to directly answer questions from anyone ever again, even you,” the woman said. “As such, while I can let you inside, I can do no more. I denied entry to the others who came, just as you ordered.”

That would make some sense. If Khrusos had captured Ganymedeans, he would have tried to use them to open this cube. Yet if Rhea was his slave at some point, she would have opened it for him, as she did just now. Unless Khrusos didn’t know, which seemed unlikely.

She approached the opening, and when she took a step inside, a glow lamp lit up overhead, illuminating a black corridor.

Will started to follow her.

She looked at him and raised a hand. “I have to do this alone.”

He seemed about to contest her, so she added: “I’ll share my video feed with you. If anything happens to me, you can rush inside.”

He opened his mouth once more, but then reluctantly nodded and stepped back. She shared her feed and watched her view count increase to match the number of members in the party.

She entered, and the hologram vanished. Once beyond the threshold, she took a few tentative steps, then glanced over her shoulder. The entrance remained open. She could see Will and the others watching anxiously beyond, their headlamps creating bright cones of light that cut through the darkness.

She turned around and continued forward. Her feet echoed off the hard floor, sounding muted in the tight confines. The arched ceiling smoothly joined the walls on either side, and was just the right height for her, with about a handspan to spare above her head. White dots the size of pinpricks shone in the round surface, forming archways of light that added to the overall glow.

She reached an L intersection and slowly rounded the bend. She was ready to deploy her Ban’Shar…

But no one waited to ambush her. Instead, the corridor opened into a room roughly the size of a cargo container. The corners where the floor and ceiling met the walls were rounded, forming a seamless surface as if the entire room had been cast from a mold.

The room was empty save for a lone pedestal in the center.

Rhea approached it.

The top portion of the pedestal ended at waist height, terminating in a flat, elliptical surface that sloped forty-five degrees toward her body. There was a handprint cut into that surface, with a thumb placement on either side—it could support either the right or left hand. Without pausing to think, she rested her intact hand onto the imprint. Her palm and fingers were slightly smaller than the stamp, so for a moment she thought nothing was going to happen.

But then nozzles opened along the left and right sides, and thousands of black dots poured out. Insects. Crawling up the surface of the pedestal. Toward her hand.

Rhea didn’t move.

The insects flowed onto her fingers and skittered up her arm. She felt them all, their tiny, sharp feet seeming like small razors against the metal of her flesh. They ignored the Ban’Shar, swirling around it.

The insects crept up her shoulder, then began to spread across the remainder of her body.

That was when the agony began. Those tiny razors dug into the raw elements composing her armor. Thousands of them gnawing at the same time, firing off the pain sensors embedded in the metal.

It was so intense that she was forced to shut off the pain, lest she scream. She held her hand firmly in place on the pedestal, somehow knowing that once the process had begun, it would be fatal to interrupt.

The insects continued to disseminate across her body, though none of them touched the artificial skin that began above her upper chest. No… they crawled underneath it, concentrating on the metal portions hidden below. Devouring. Transforming.

She zoomed in on a section of her body. They weren’t insects of course, but nano machines. Spiderish, with eight legs, and mandibles that could rip away pieces of metal. On the abdomen, precisely where the spinnerets of a real spider would be, resided an array of lasers and extruders, used for cutting, soldering, and 3D printing. She wasn’t sure what their power source was. The physics behind them were impossible, at least by Earth standards.

The machines devoured her armor, and at the same time printed copies of themselves. These copies went on to do the same, so that they were reproducing exponentially.

The machines were no longer crawling onto her from the pedestal, so she released it. As the servomotors in her knees failed, she collapsed.

She tilted her head to gaze down upon her ravaged body. Her arms, legs and torso caved as she watched.

Veil’s final revenge. It was all a trick.

Her network connection cut out, severing her from the others. She knew it wouldn’t be long before her mind-machine interface failed entirely, and then, her brain.

But incredibly, new arms and legs began to take shape beneath the remains of her old limbs. She realized that while the nano machines were using the metal of her body to create more of themselves, most of these new machines went on to integrate themselves with her frame, forming new circuitry, servomotors, and armor. On a macro scale, they were remaking her.

Her chest slowly puffed out as well, and then in moments, it was done. The nano machines slipped inside tiny vents within her armor, vanishing from view, and then the vents themselves sealed, leaving behind a smooth, skin-like metal in its place.

Her arms and legs were bigger, and sleeker than before, polished to a mirrorlike sheen. Not only that, her severed hand had been restored.

She touched her upper body. She felt the soft, artificial skin of her head and shoulders, which apparently had survived the transformation unaltered. The Ban’Shar around her left hand had also survived the transformation.

Will stood at the entrance to the room. The others were crowded in behind him, with concern written all over their faces.

“Are you all right?” Will asked.

In answer, she slowly clambered to her feet. She gripped the pedestal for support.

Will seemed reluctant to come inside to offer her a hand, she noted. She didn’t blame him, after what had just happened.

When she was fully standing, she released the pedestal and turned toward him. The nano machines activated in a ring pattern around her neck. They swarmed out, with those in the lead melted by those just behind, their raw elements smelted and separated to create a glass composite. This process continued, with more and more of the machines swarming upward, so that they 3D-printed a translucent dome around her head. At the very top the machines formed a metal box, completing the seal. The remaining nano machines vanished within that box, and oxygen flowed into the dome.

She took several deep breathes, and then the process reversed as the dome began breaking down. In seconds it had vanished, and the nano machines returned into the vents around her neck.

“How are you doing that?” Will transmitted.

She lifted her arm, and it changed shape as the nano machines forged a long blade. She noted that her forearm thinned noticeably—the materials for that blade had been taken directly from her armor.

“I don’t know,” she told Will. “It’s almost… instinctual. It’s like the nano machines inside me are just another organ inside my body. One that’s completely under my control. I’m creating these things by flexing this organ… as I would flex a finger or toe.”

“Muscle memory,” Will said.

She nodded, and the blade retracted, restoring her hand. Her forearm returned to its previous thickness.

“Give me access to your feed,” she said. “I want to look at myself.”

Will did so.

She observed herself from his viewpoint. The artificial skin of her head and shoulders indeed remained intact, so that part of her looked identical to before. But the rest of her… she looked exactly like the other Ganymedeans she had seen in her memories, those who had leaped from the hull of the starship as it burned up during atmospheric reentry. Lustrous, lithe, and highly deadly.

“Your body looks almost like it’s made of mercury,” Brinks commented.

“Mercury is liquid at room temperature,” Rhea said.

“That’s what I mean,” Brinks said. “It’s so shiny… almost like liquid metal.”

“Just like the Ganymedeans,” Miles commented softly.

Rhea continued to admire herself. “I thought at first Veil had betrayed me. But she wasn’t lying. This is indeed a gift.”

“You’ve been upgraded,” Will agreed.

She nodded, smiling grimly. “I’m finally ready.”

“For what?” Will asked.

She could see her eyes glinting malevolently on the video feed. “I’m ready to face Khrusos.”

* * *

BOOK 4: Rhea, Will and Horatio return to fight another day in Warden 4, available on Amazon at https://readerlinks.com/l/1054312

Or discover how Will and Horatio first met in the prequel novella, Salvage, available for free here: https://bookhip.com/WBMXLC

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author Isaac Hooke holds a degree in engineering physics, though his more unusual inventions remain fictive at this time. He is an avid hiker, cyclist, and photographer who sometimes resides in Edmonton, Alberta.

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