There was no time to waist, and Clara would have to get from here to the opposite side of the facility to the main processing entrance to reach a system that handled the prisoners as they entered the Rocky. The fastest way there was also the most exposed – through the courtyard.

Not an ideal situation, Clara thought as she quietly closed the door to the control room leaving the bodies of the three guards and the vampire where they lay. But perhaps she would be lucky and in the confusion outside, no one would be paying attention to the courtyard.

Clara tried to access another system for the prisoner’s name and number. There was no way in. The answer could not be pulled from here. Thinking of the schematics, Clara knew where she would have to go. And she wouldn’t have much time to do it. It certainly wouldn’t take too long in a prison of this capacity for the dead guards around her to be missing, especially on the heightened alert they were under now.

Clara scanned through the list of close to one hundred prisoners once more, this time remembering the prisoner’s location based on his prison number.

Clara eyed the controls, glad to see no alarms went off within the prison to indicate an intruder. These guards had not alerted others to Clara’s presence, and she still had the element of surprise.

Pushing a guard’s body out of the chair, Clara sat down and began scanning the monitors for prisoners. She pulled up a database to determine location, but all prisoners went by a number rather than a name. There was no way she could determine where Randal was with this information. She would need the key to decipher name from number.

She cursed. This was irritating.

The ninja fell to the earth, cutting the last man in two as she did so, his hand grasping a headset yet unable to pull it on.

Clara eyed the control panel and the various alarm signals as the vampire’s body parts fell to the ground behind her, already rapidly aging to the creature’s true age, when a man had to die the day this vampire was born.

Alarms were still going off all around the prison with little to indicate their cause or that they would end soon. But none were going off within the facility indicating an intruder.

Above the vampire and his ruined hand, a figure in black was descending from the ceiling, the air duct a mangled mass of falling metal behind her, one long sword in hand, another long sword being drawn as she fell.

The vampire snarled and leapt at her as the remaining human guard scrambled to remove a headset from the head of one of dead guards. Two swift strokes of her swords and the vampire’s arm, head, torso, and legs were separate pieces. The body parts sprayed out what blood the vampire had in him and continued with momentum past Clara.

The vampire’s heightened abilities enabled him to see the dart with the blue dot streaking toward the only remaining guard yet alive. He shot his hand out to intercept the dart and save the guard from the same fate as his comrades. But Clara had used a different type of dart this time.

Upon impact, the dart exploded, blowing apart half of the vampire’s hand. He screamed, more out of anger than pain. Clearly he had been fooled.

The remaining human turned from his dead friends upon the sound of the explosion and scream. Then he saw something truly terrifying.

The remaining man was panicked, but the vampire was on to her, looking at the air duct where Clara hid. She didn’t have a choice. She loaded the only dart with the blue dot that she had pulled out and blew the dart at the last man, knowing the vampire’s heightened senses would see it.

Then in a flash, she drew her kitana sword, slicing through the air duct as she did.

The vampire reached his hand out and intercepted the dart before it could hit the last man, but this was exactly what Clara had wanted him to do.

Clara placed one end of the blow gun over the new hole she had made, watching through her scope the three men and the vampire twenty feet below her. She aimed and blew a blast of air through the blow gun. A tiny dart struck one man at the controls, and he slumped over.

The two other men went to his aid, but the vampire looked around the room swiftly. There wasn’t much time. Clara immediately blew the next dart, striking the remaining man wearing a headset. He too slumped over, falling out of his chair to the tiled floor.

Clara took the ice pick, twisting it to score the air duct, then pushing it through quietly, keeping an eye on the vampire through the scope as she did so.

No notice. This was very good.

The ninja slowly and silently withdrew a small straw and pouch from her waist, hand awkwardly moving in the tight space of the air duct. She withdrew four tiny darts from the pouch, three with a small red dot and one with a blue dot. She loaded a red one and wriggled her way over the top of the newest hole she had created.

They obviously didn’t have the situation under control, Clara’s havoc still reigning, but they weren’t panicked either. Two sat in chairs and spoke over headsets, running tactical support from the control room utilizing the several monitors covering the wall in front of them. The other two, a man and the vampire, watched the situation develop over the shoulders of the two seated.

Good. This should go fine. Obviously the vampire was the most dangerous. But there was also a reckless strength and power about a vampire, and this could work to Clara’s advantage. She brought up the ice pick again.

Clara took the thick ice pick from her sleeve and placed it, point down, into the thin metal of the air duct, ever so slowly pushing it through.

She pulled out a tiny scope, sliding one end through the small opening she had created and looking through the eyepiece. A control room was twenty feet below her. She twisted a dial and this caused a pulling in one direction and a slackening in the opposite direction, forcing the scope to turn and look around the room. Three men and a vampire, weapons on an opposite wall in a locked case.

Still in the narrow air duct and lying on her side, Clara struggled to pull one hand back and remove her compass from the sleeve she had slid it into. She checked her direction and coordinates. She should be close. Yes, another twenty feet, and she would be there. Barely able to maneuver in the tiny space, the ninja continued to pull herself along, wriggling her way forward. Just a little farther and she would be well on her way to rescuing Randal.

This was the place. Careful to remain silent, Clara pulled a thick ice pick from her sleeve.

Randal smiled again, this time bigger. The rumbling and light shaking had grown.

He forced his eyes open, returning to the reality of his cell and pushing himself to focus on Temmins. The fat man looked around the room, trying to learn why it shook. His eyes blinked, questions and fear in them, not understanding the situation, one lid encrusted in small, gray scales, the cold dampness of the room not helping the skin condition that covered half his face and patches of his bald head.

Randal smiled again. They were coming. They had found him, and they were coming.

Pulling as much as he could from just his hearing, Randal could tell the rumble grew louder. He smiled weakly, a small burst he couldn’t contain. He was hit with a fresh torrent of water.

Then he allowed himself to feel, pulling himself back up to the surface, forcing his mind to return to his body and the present, allowing some of his well practiced ninja skills to rest. The salt and bamboo and cold and wet were excruciating; he pushed away the desire to moan or even scream. But the Special also felt himself slightly jostling back and forth.

Temmins twisted the occasional stalk of bamboo protruding from Randal’s body, pouring salt down into the stalk with a funnel. The wound would burn. He would ask his usual questions. Then proceed to the next random bamboo stalk, twist, pour, and repeat, sometimes adding a stifled, gleeful giggle to the mix.

“Who are you?” Temmins asked again. “What did you want when you attacked Giresun? Who are you working with? Where are your other teammates?”

Then there was a distant explosion. This died away to a low rumble that quickly grew louder. Randal forced himself to return to his senses.

Inside, Randal was strapped to the metal table. Cold water dripped or gushed intermittently on his face. The room was ice cold, and little crystals had formed in Ran’s hair. Temmins asked his usual questions. Who are you? What did you want with Giresun? Who are you working with? Where are your other teammates? Why did you attack Giresun? What was your goal? And then the questions would repeat.

Bamboo stalks still stuck out of several wounds in Randal’s body. Temmins wore slippers and was bundled up in a huge fur coat that dragged along the ground when he walked.

Clara pulled herself through the cold metal vent until she reached the trip laser she had spotted. There she struggled to remove a crystal from her waist. She used this crystal which she had gotten from Helen and Turtle to deflect the device’s laser, careful to place it perfectly so as not to disrupt the signal. She pulled herself slowly forward, afraid to knock loose the crystal and upset the trip laser. First her hands and arms, then head, shoulders, and chest. Then stomach, hips, legs, and finally feet.

She was barely able to slide past, but she made it.

Finally approaching her access point into the prison, Clara held on to the prison wall and withdrew one of her swords. Like a hot knife through butter, Clara’s kitana easily sliced through the metal. She pushed the vent plate inside and pulled her body sideways into the opening, careful not to cut herself on the sharp metal edges. Just ahead, she spotted a trip laser. Barely able to move, the ninja kept her hands in front of her and slowly slid her way toward the device on her side, pulling with her hands and pushing with her toes and feet.

The guards would want to hide this disturbance from the prisoners, but no one inside could have missed the rumble of the explosion and the massive rockslide quickly becoming a massive avalanche. Even now the rumble of the rush of snow was a deep bass at the center of Clara’s chest, deep within her.

The ninja continued to climb directly over the outer gate, over one hundred feet in the air. She looked up. The massive tower kept rising, but another twenty feet up was her goal. An air vent, little bigger than two feet vertical by one foot horizontal.

This was good. This was very good. If the ninja were lucky, the avalanche would have not only rendered the detection devices useless, but also would have killed the two squads of armed guards going to investigate the disturbance. Clara continued her long climb, now angling over the outer gate.

No alarms prison wide went off, but Clara knew the security control tower had to be lit up like a Christmas tree and guards had to be running frantic. They wouldn’t want the prisoners to know there was this great a disturbance, but everyone inside must have felt the explosion.

The magnitude of the chemical blast was astounding, light and heat and noise sensors were all distracted. Sonic reverb, pure adrenaline. The chemical bomb did the first part of its job.

So far, so good. Then the slow rumble of rocks falling, first one, then another, then more. The stone face she had placed the explosives under was collapsing. Clara smiled and continue to scale the huge tower, already over fifty feet in the air. The rockslide gave way to chunks of snow and ice falling away from the mountain and in no time, a massive avalanche was in progress.

The guards hustled toward the fireballs, and Clara continued to climb as quickly as she could. It wasn’t long before the guards left the vicinity, and Clara was forced to freeze once more, waiting for her next distraction.

Several moments later the putty reached critical temperatures from the flames and the normally relatively stable material erupted with an enormous amount of force and flame and sound. The prison wall shook beneath Clara’s grip, and she resumed her climb up the sheer rock wall, knowing that sensors in the building and surrounding area would all be going off at this point.

Clara crossed the road and darted for the relative protection of the huge stone wall of the prison.

The inner gate closed with a heavy creaking slam and the outer gate began to open.

Clara pressed herself up against the wall, disappearing in the blackness. Two squads of armed guards charged out of the prison, the sensors in the area now practically useless for the next two minutes. Clara began scaling the wall, knowing had only a small window of time before the detection might actually pull her motion signal or audio signal out of the many in the area.

The heat given off and the sudden light in the darkness attracted much attention from the sensors, setting off alarms for that vicinity. Clara rose from the snow, her own heat signal so small compared to the light show going on a half mile back from the direction she had come.

The ninja ran toward the road, once again her body stocking a shroud of black, darting through the darkness.

Personnel were dispatched to investigate the disturbance. Interior gates were already opening, guards preparing to leave, waiting for the gate behind them to close so the next one could open.

The sun dipped below the horizon. Clara strapped two kitanas to her back, the long, double edged Eastern swords she preferred fighting with. She placed other weapons around her waist and her legs.

Ahead, there was no way to continue passing the detection devices safely. They were too thick; each backed another up, matching strength to the other’s weakness.

With no warning, two huge fireballs erupted. The paper wrappings had finally dissolved to the point of exposing the wrapped metal plugs to the snow. A chemical reaction caused these to ignite in a dazzling display of sparks and hot flames.

Clara passed several more sensors, some she had to disable, others she passed slowly and remained unnoticed, tunneling through the snow. She eventually came to the back side of the prison and waited below the snow, in a ditch of a narrow, blacktop road that rose several feet. She couldn’t get any closer for fear of losing the snow cover. Cold was setting in, but she forced herself to stay alert, not letting the temperature best her. This was not yet the time. Randal was counting on her. She would get him out. He would do the same for her.

Clara waited, making sure not to rush the placement. She removed two small metal plugs, not letting her skin touch the tarnished rock. Then she covered the plugs with several thin strips of what looked like tan paper, wrapping each tight in several layers. Then she pushed each wrapped plug into the gray goo, a third from each end, and packed everything deep in snow, covering the plugs and the gray putty.

Now she was on a timer. The rest had to happen perfectly. There wasn’t time to waste.

Clara dug her way through the snow, approaching Ultramax Rocky Penitentiary.

Finally Clara came to the place, right up against a rock face. She slowly rose from the snow, her face, eyes, and body stocking white again in the fading sun. There were no sensors in the area, but she was not protected from any possible aerial scans above. Dropping back below snow level, Clara pulled out a large jar of gray putty from her pack. Opening the jar, she began packing the rubbery goo into the base of the rock.

She checked the sky again. The sun would soon arch down below the skyline. Then all hell would break loose.

Clara wanted to rest longer, her body PRACTICALLY screaming the desire, but the ninja still had another couple miles to go. And if Clara the Red Ninja was going to rescue Randal the Special this night from Ultramax Rocky Pen and from Randal’s captor, Giresun, she needed to have everything in place by nightfall. Clara dove back beneath the snow, crawling through the tunnel she had created earlier, until changing direction and continuing to dig her way closer to the Rocky, stopping occasionally to reference her compass, verify direction and destination, and determine how much further before her next drop.

So instead of resting her aching body, Clara pushed the pain away and removed a large package made of fabric and frame from her backpack. Originally black, the item changed to white facing the slowly setting sunlight.

Clara quickly buried the item in the snow, then tied off a rope to rapidly descend back to the cave’s bottom. Once safely beneath the overhang, she collapsed, finally allowing her body to rest. She slept for half an hour, then warmed herself with a chemical warming packet, ate more jerky to refresh herself and chewed on some snow, her own water frozen.

At the edge of the outcropping, Clara pulled her body up further, using the claw to create traction and handholds, careful not to make a mistake or lose her grip. The snow had built up significantly at the top of the outcropping, and Clara was once again pulling herself through it, this time much happier when she finally had her feet beneath her again. She wanted to lay on the top of the rock in the snow, just letting her tired body regain some strength, but at any moment, an automated patrolling aircraft could fly overhead and reveal her position.

Clara held one hand tight, then released the other, reaching further, needing to eventually reach the edge of the overhang. She found a hold then repeated the process. If there wasn’t a sufficient handhold, Clara would use her rock climbing claw to create one. The further she climbed, the more ice there was to contend with. This naturally made each successive grasp a more difficult proposition than the last.

Her arms burned and her fingers were going numb, but still she climbed. Finally she reached the edge of the overhang, claw embedded in ice and rock, fingers bloodied and bruised.

Clara began to scale the rock face, her body stocking, makeup, and solid contacts now a dark gray to better reflect her surroundings.

She placed her other hand higher and pushed off with one foot, finding a hold for the second higher up. Hand, foot, hand, foot, Clara methodically made her way up the face of the rock. Eventually she came to the point where the face of the rock was starting to arch further and further away the higher she went. She held her hands fast and just let go with her legs, allowing them to dangle beneath her.

Instead, Clara took her rock climbing claw from her sack, attaching it to her waist, and made her way deeper into the cavern to the base of the rock. Being sheltered from some of the elements, there was not an excessive buildup of ice on the face of the rock. This was good and would make climbing easier.

The ninja placed one handhold. The photosensitive threading in her body stocking faded to a dark gray to better match her darker surroundings. Then she placed a foothold on the same side. The makeup around her eyes also changed to dark gray.

Clara had to reach the top of the outcropping, sixty feet in the air. Going up from the outside would be significantly easier, but also potentially deadly with the aerial scans. If a scan caught her, that could be the end. No, it was safer beneath the outcropping, so she wouldn’t reveal her position until she absolutely had to.

Clara had avoided bringing most technological devices with her, at least motor driven in nature or satellite communicating, for fear of having the signal detected or intercepted. Now what she wouldn’t give for some simple device assistance. But no use complaining.

She was under the outcropping. Carefully, Clara pushed her head through the top of the snow. She was cold, obviously, but not stupid. The area was clear. Clara pushed the rest of the way through the snow, still scanning the area, wanting to make sure there were no extra surprises. There was nothing. It was clear.

Clara stood in snow over her knees, drifting in from the wind. Around her was a large, shallow cave, the outcropping sixty feet above her. Now she had to get to the top of that outcropping, to finish what needed to first be done.

Whenever Clara’s gut said to wait, she did, assuming some detector was in closer proximity. Then when she felt safe again, she assumed the scan had passed and resumed pushing forward through the snow, checking the compass occasionally to verify her location and direction. Just a little further in this snow, just a little further before she rounded the corner and was beneath the outcropping, hidden from view from above.

She pushed the pain and cold away, willing herself to not feel them, and just kept pushing forward. Finally the snow above her grew darker as she rounded the corner.

There was no telling if another plane would pass overhead or not. Her instincts could only get her so far, and now was not the time to start pressing her luck. Without the tree cover, it would be nearly impossible to get past.

There was only one course of action. Clara began to tunnel her way through the snow, making her way just below the outcropping. This was extremely slow going and extremely cold. But Clara did not hesitate; she continued to push her way through the snow, careful to avoid disturbing the snow above her as much as possible.

Clara knew the prison was just a little further up and around an outcropping ahead of her. Very soon she should see the place.

The ninja froze again. Something wasn’t right. She plunged into the snow, hiding herself below snow level. A motion sensor scanning the area. Clara lay flat, waiting for the device to sweep past. Then another sense. Another detection device, this one an unmanned aircraft above, about to pass overhead. This one could be motion or heat tracking. Clara quickly dug down and forward, hiding herself in the snow mound as the automatic miniature aircraft flew overhead.

She continued her climb toward the prison, now a patch of snow and sunlight after her body stocking’s change to better camouflage the new surroundings.

Clara’s pace eventually slowed as more and more detection devices had to be neutralized or avoided. Plodding her way through deeper and deeper snow, the evergreens were giving way to more and more barren patches.

The sun slowly arched overhead and was already on its descent.

Clara eyed the area, now completely free of trees. She verified her compass, double checking readings and comparing them to the elevation map Sprite had pulled and Clara memorized.

Clara ate more dried strips of possum and drank more water, resting her tired body. She closed her eyes, leaning back to face the slowly rising sun. There she pushed her weariness away from her, telling her body not to feel tired.

It was only a few minutes longer before Clara felt well rested and the photosensitive threading in her body stocking had turned the warm outfit from black to white. Even her face makeup had changed. And when she opened her eyes, it took only a few blinks before these two had changed from darkest black to brightest white.

Clara got off the dead deer, scanned the area briefly, and continued to climb the mountain at a jog.

As Clara continued to gain altitude, she saw more and more patches of snow, trees changing from hardy sort to tall, majestic evergreens. Still Clara continued to climb. The sun began to rise and Clara slowed her pace, now looking for a sunny spot to rest.

She found one in a small clearing among the evergreens and sat down on the hard ground. It was very cold, but this area was at least cleared of snow due to the direct sunlight.

Then the ninja jumped, pouncing on the back of the animal. The deer reared, its head snapping back, its front hooves kicking the air. Clara grasped the back of the buck’s head with one hand, the other flashing around the animal’s muzzle. The deer tried to shake free, whipping its head frantically about. The front hooves came down and it lurched to take off into the woods. But the ninja gave the animal’s head a swift, hard snap to the right. The creature fell forward, face hitting the hard ground, tongue lolled out one side of its mouth, eyes empty.

There were no immediate sensors, she could tell by the breeze in the air, the feel of the ground beneath her feet. She just knew. But if she spooked the buck, he may trigger something that lead to suspicions. Perhaps it would be seen as nothing, a deer sprinting through the woods. But if the patterns of the deer, or even more dangerously, the patterns of this specific deer, were known, then a spooked deer may lead to real suspicions. Suspicions she couldn’t have just yet.

She walked up silently. The deer continued to drink from the ice cold water.

Clara slowly made her up way up the steep rock face, one hand over the next, each foot or handhold wedged carefully into the rock before continuing, using the climbing pick when necessary, always looking for the next step to make, the next ledge to grab. Half an hour later, the ninja had gained another 40 feet up, completing her climb.

She continued on her way, stealthily running through the woods, ever climbing in altitude, Clara suddenly came upon a buck, drinking from a stream. The creature was magnificent, but Clara did not know how closely the wildlife was monitored.

Clara quickly swapped connections among the three cut wires, twisting them back together in a different order. She placed the panel back on, the device now sending a safe, empty signal that shouldn’t be spotted for days.

The ninja continued on her way.

Climbing a small ridge and getting out from beneath tree cover, Clara found a sheer rock face in front of her. She stopped, stepping back and looking for a way around. But there was no obvious path and forward was still the quickest rout.

Adjusting her pack, Clara removed a pick and began to scale the rock.

An hour later, Clara pulled the food she had purchased from the Eskiman tradesman, gnawing on dried possum, the salt igniting her taste buds. She drank from her water skin and put these things back into her pack.

It wasn’t long before Clara found another scanner in the trees with her. This one she carefully opened and examined the wires. Sprite had shown her how to disable a few of the devices in use here without it being detected, and this was one of them. She slowly pulled out three of the wires, snipping all three and exposing the wires.

There it was! An area scanner, slowly sweeping across the area. But there was a reason she wore the body stocking, and the ninja remained frozen. The scanner panned over and past her, the black stocking material absorbing the necessary spectrum, essentially reflecting back an empty signal. After the scanner swept past, Clara immediately leapt into the trees, climbing a nearby branch and examining the forest floor around her. No other devices appeared to be nearby, but Clara refused to take any chances. Instead, she continued to advance up the mountain but stayed in the trees for the time being.

The ninja returned to climbing toward the prison where Ran was held. Clara didn’t have any sophisticated instruments with her, fearing the signal may be intercepted. But she did have a compass. She checked it periodically, verifying the direction she was traveling and testing the latitude and longitude of her destination.

Making her way swiftly through the forest, expertly avoiding possible snares or dangers, the ninja suddenly froze, her instincts telling her not to move. Clara rarely questioned her instincts as they had saved her life more times than she could recall. Clara moved only her dark eyes, looking around.

Clara removed her weapons and stripped out of the local garb, her skin prickling against the cold. She removed a black, thermal body stocking from her backpack and pulled the tight, warm synthetic fiber over her cold body. With this suit, she would stay warm and retain full mobility, not to mention its camouflaging capabilities. Then she painted black circles around her eyes and pulled the body stocking’s hood up and around her face, nothing visible in the darkness but the whites of her eyes. To solve this, Clara inserted black, absorption contacts, effectively turning herself into a walking shadow.

Clara also asked the mute trader to burn the body of her faithful donkey in twenty-four hours time, once the spirit had truly left the beast. The Eskiman nodded solemnly, agreeing with her use of the old customs, and gladly agreed to lay the creature to rest among its distant brethren, the wild creatures of the mountain.

She left the shop after an hour’s rest and a hot meal from the fireplace, first heading back down the path to Rancher, before rounding a corner and quickly vanishing into the forest, leaving the pelts and her poncho beneath a rotting log.

Clara dragged the dead donkey the remaining distance. It was the least she could do for a creature who had given its life to save Ran.

She left the animal outside of the rustic trading post, and there she approached the mute Eskiman tradesman who ran the place. Furs hung on several of the walls and a warm fire burned in the fireplace. She purchased more food and drink, her own supply now gone. Then she delivered his monthly supply of peyote grown in Rancher. The Eskiman’s eyes lit up, and he gladly handed over thirty animal pelts in exchange.

Clara’s donkey was coming down off its medicated rush, the animal’s hooves stumbling forward uncontrolled. Clara took the next syringe, this one just pure fluid hard candy for her beast. She injected it, this time not caring about the animal being able to repair damage faster, only caring that it got her near the trading post. She donned a warm pullover from her pack and a heavy woolen cap.

A few hours later, the beast was foaming and its eyes bulged, but it had nearly gotten Clara to the trading post. The donkey shuddered and collapsed two hundred yards away.

Riding the donkey further, Clara slowly zigzagged her way up the mountain path, trees and undergrowth on both sides, the ultramax prison ever growing closer. As her donkey grew weary, she stuck him with some roid upper combo mix that Helen had prepared. The animal continued to attack the path with a renewed vigor, and Clara kept watch for some of the prison’s detection devices. There was nothing yet, but her intel said it would be soon. Her instincts as a Red Ninja told her they would be even sooner.

By mid afternoon, the air was getting colder and thinner.

Clara ate a large meal and rested at the mayor-lord’s home. It was quaint and capable, lots of rough wood and a few elegant draperies. Then at dusk, she took a donkey she had also purchased and the monthly supply of the Eskiman tribe’s favorite peyote grown in the fields outside Rancher, and headed into the hill country, climbing toward Rocky Pen.

She rode the surefooted donkey as long as possible, before stopping to make camp for the night. Clara fed the donkey from her pack and removed a thermal blanket. She rested for three hours and awoke at dawn.

Clara had purchased a horse with cash creds at Other Town. She spent the night there, paying cash for a room of little consequence. Not bad, exactly, but just unnoticed. The next morning, Clara rode west, in the general direction of Rocky, but also in the direction of a village called Rancher.

It was there that Clara had purchased a favor from the village’s mayor-lord with some small number of arms the day before. Clara left her horse with the mayor-lord’s people, expecting it to be well taken care of and to have it and another available in 24 hours.

Preparations made, Clara knew when to make her move. The ninja strapped equipment to her body and put more in a large backpack, leaving her rotocoptor in a vacant field, hidden in a large hay stack and well out of range of the electromagnetic pulse generator, fifty miles from Ultramax Rocky Pen.

Backpack donned, Clara wore flexible climbing shoes on her feet, weapons hidden but accessible beneath a handmade poncho and drawstring pants, both common in the vicinity and purchased from a different tri-quad earlier that day. Clara walked the four miles to Other Town where her new horse waited.

Four hours later and preparations were complete. The darts were ready, equipment settled, plans in motion. They said their goodbyes to each other and to Hawk who then locked up the compound tight, kicking on their auto securities, manning cameras and various equipment from what T affectionately referred to as the control center.

The remaining darts departed in various directions, looking to capture their betrayer, Claude Revel. They wanted to learn what he told Giresun, why he made this move, and how he hoped to get away with it.

And then they would enact their revenge as they saw fit.

When the water was ready, he soaked a hot towel, and placed it on his head. It felt good, both the ritual and the nearly shocking heat before entering the cold of battle. His hair was already a short stubble, but it had grown out a week or two, and Turtle began to shave his head with a straight razor.

It felt good. With each slow, methodic slide of the blade, Turtle said another prayer to his Savior.

A minute later he dressed with thin body armor beneath, geared up, and went back outside to join his team, his family.

Turtle went into his room. He turned on the hot water so it could warm up, and he removed his shirt. While the water ran, he briefly examined old battle wounds in the mirror on his chest and stomach. Nothing new: each had its own story. Most he remembered; some were long forgotten.

And around his neck hung a silver crucifix. He held the tiny crucifix, a treasured family heirloom, between his meaty thumb and forefinger. Turtle said a prayer for safety for his team, including Clara on her own mission, and especially for Randal, in the midst of trial.

She logged on through her glasses as a casual access point and briefly monitored her own black mark. No change. News was scarce. Bounty hunters weren’t ones to share information, fearing a loss any advantage over the competition. There were rumors of her surfacing briefly the other day, but most disregarded them, the details of her escape so unlikely as to be unbelievable.

Sprite clicked off, chuckling to herself, then switched her glasses over to test her fairies signals. Strong and clear with little interference here. She hoped the signal would be just as good a few hours from now.

Sprite packed up four fairies with her. All four were built for speed and quick attack or momentary distraction, capable of small packed explosives and multi blade attack. Or both. She donned several small caliber arms and explosives of her own and the pockets of her yellow and black jumpsuit were full of electronic goodies, as usual. Then Sprite tucked her short hair up under a black ball cap and donned large, dark sunglasses to disguise her features. Then she pulled on a gray waistcoat, hiding her firearms, but more importantly, the coat served as tight knit weave body armor.

“You ready for what comes next?” Helen asked Kurl, stopping and resting her hand on the orc’s thick back in a reassuring manner.

Kurl looked up from his work, his black, glossy eyes locking on Helen’s. Then he nodded with a grunt of confirmation.

Helen held his gaze, making sure there was no hesitation there. The orc blinked, still looking at his adopted mother. She smiled. “You’re a good boy, Kurl,” Helen said, patting him on the knee. “You know that?”

Kurl grunted noncommittally, returning to his work. Helen stayed with him, gently rubbing his back like a proud mother.

Helen approached the large orc Kurl as he was hunched over, working on loading a thirty foot ream of large caliber ammunition into his gatling gun. He was a broad figure, over five feet wide. And though he was hunched over, he still towered over eight feet tall. He had rough, brown green skin, but his head was hairless, showing his young age to be only in his teens. His lower jaw jutted forward and his bottom canines rested on the outside of his upper lip, one snapped off at the halfway point.

“You ready for this action?” Helen asked.

Gunn checked one barrel of the rhino stopper for obstructions.

“I need you to handle crowd dispersion, Gunn,” Turtle said, “not slaughter every man, woman, and child in a two mile vicinity.”

“That’s not even fair!” Gunn said, looking up from the stopper.

“The point is, I think you’re better on two feet.”

Gunn eyed him darkly, lips parting, teeth exposed, possibly growling quietly.

“See what I mean,” T said, and Gunn broke his stare, realizing what he was doing. “Be prepared for any contingency, but you know my thoughts on the subject.”

“Understood,” Gunn said, returning to his firearm.

Gunn wore a black t-shirt stretched tight over his muscular frame. His forearms were hairy and thick. “Just about got everything,” he said, his face covered in thick stubble. “Few more pieces of hardware still, but the moon juice is good to go. That’s the most important.”

“Hopefully you won’t need that, if everything goes according to plan,” Turtle said.

“When do things go according to plan?” Gunn said with a smirk. “Who knows, you might be glad I came prepared.” Gunn patted a vial hanging from his belt. Then he picked up a double barreled high impact rhino stopper.

“Any luck, kid?” Reynolds asked in his thick accent, exhaling a long stream of smoke from his cigarette.

“Not this time,” Hawk answered, not willing to look up from his work.

“Sorry, little guy,” Reynolds said, clapping Hawk on the shoulder with his good arm and returning the cigarette to his mouth. “Maybe next time.”

Hawk nodded and continued his work.

Turtle approached a man with wavy, dark brown hair that hung to his shoulders. His body rippled with muscle, he had broad shoulders, and stood six and a half feet tall. “Gunn, you got everything you need?” Turtle asked.

Hawk continued to load the vehicle, and Turtle turned his attention to other details, leaving the rest of the equipment in the boy’s strong hands.

Reynolds walked up behind Hawk, smoking a cigarette. His body was covered in scars except for his left arm which was deformed. Half the size of his muscular right arm, the left was thin, pale, and feeble, ending just below the elbow with three child-size fingers growing from the end. He used his small left arm to take the cigarette from his mouth. Exhaling smoke, Reynolds asked Hawk in a thick accent, “Any luck, kid?”

Turtle stopped and looked the boy in the face. Hawk was young, but already taller than Turtle. The boy wore his usual heavy, charcoal coat, three sizes too large, starting at his neck and ending at his skinny calves. He looked at Turtle a little longer, desperate begging in his eyes.

Finally realizing the puppy dog look wouldn’t work on T, Hawk dropped his gaze. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Thanks, kid,” Turtle said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “It means a lot to me. I’ll try to get you out there next time.”

Hawk nodded, disappointed, but hopeful for next time.

Turtle turned from Hawk to continue loading the truck with equipment. “We need someone to stay here and watch the base,” he said. “We can’t afford to all be gone and come home to find our place ransacked, invaded, or destroyed.”

“Then leave Kurl here,” Hawk said, his short blond curls bouncing as he followed Turtle back and forth, the boy grabbing large boxes with seeming ease and gracefully sliding them into the truck with surprising speed.

“We need Kurl with us,” Turtle said, referring to the orc not much older than Hawk, but nearly full grown by orc standards.

A week later, plans were in order and actions were in motion. Clara bid her fellow darts farewell and left early morning in her rotocoptor to travel half way across the continent. She brought with her a supply of equipment a small army could be jealous of and enough paper creds to choke a hippo.

And the remaining darts prepared for their own bout of action.

“Please, Turtle, don’t make me stay home,” Hawk said, a young man in his early teens, every feature of his lanky, tan body pleading.

“We need someone to stay here and watch the base.”

The darts didn’t know how Revel could afford such high ticket protection. A Red Ninja was not cheap, considering the freelance opportunities available and certified skill set. And a glyph’s abilities were even beyond that of a Red Ninja. But Red Ninja or glyph, one was with Revel at all times. And naturally there were backup security personnel as well.

Both appeared tasks nearly impossible to meet: Clara breaking into the Rocky; the others facing a Red Ninja or a glyph. But meet them they would. They had to. For their own survival and for the survival of their family.

Clara said she would take care of Randal. It was more important for the rest of the darts to focus their energies on grabbing Revel and learning everything they could from him.

This too would not be an easy task.

Revel was a public figure, important and well-liked in the various communities he frequented. And it appeared he had recently gained armed guards as well. One was Red Ninja, like Clara and Ran. And another was glyph, like their own Sparrow.

The darts didn’t know where Revel suddenly had the payroll to keep two like this happy on his staff.

But weapons were also under strict control, so as to avoid prisoners from attaining them. There were automated weapons as well. The grounds were booby trapped; unmanned patrol aerials flew overhead with random patterns assigned; and they employed sophisticated detection devices around the grounds utilizing night vision, sonar, heat tracking, and motion sensing.

But despite all this, Clara refused any assistance during the actual mission, saying that she had skill enough to handle Randal’s escape. Sprite pulled as much information as Clara requested, weapons specs, personnel files, complex physics, and financial records. But the ninja insisted and no one argued.

Any escapees from Giresun’s prison would freeze before reaching civilization again without help. With help, the prison had an electromagnetic pulse generator, rendering any electrical device outside of the prison and in a twenty mile radius, useless. There were around 100 guards at any given time, and many were non-human. Vampires, orcs, and werecreatures were just some of the known entities under Giresun’s command at the Ultramax Rocky Penitentiary.

And the weapons defense was unheard of. There were small city-states that didn’t come close to this type of firepower. Naturally the guards were well armed, but well trained as well.

Sprite found the blueprints and Clara spent the following three hours in seclusion, examining the information, determining the equipment she would need, learning the surrounding land, discovering the land barons in the tri-quad grid area surrounding the prison, rethinking her course of action, deciding what other intel she required, contacting three of the barons, and calling in or purchasing favors as necessary. Sprite assisted her a little more with additional intel and Turtle and Helen took care of equipment.

The job wouldn’t be easy. The greatest defense the prison had was its location, an enormous tower, sitting atop a mountain.

“All I need are the blueprints for the prison. I will free Randal from his captors, and I will leave Revel in your hands, Turtle,” Clara said, plain resolution in her voice.

Turtle eyed her and saw only a stern determination, a cold steel in her eyes that he had seen few times before in his life. “Very well,” Turtle said, agreeing with a nod. “Then what are we waiting for? Sprite, get those blueprints for Clara. Helen, you and I are going to find Revel and find out to what extent he sold us out, team, family, or otherwise.”

“Giresun takes the worst of the worst into his prison for a heavy fee,” Turtle said. “My bet is that he’s holding Randal there.”

“So what are we waiting for?” Clara said. “Get me the blueprints for the prison, and I will get Randal back.”

“Hang on,” Turtle said. “We’re taking this slow; we’ve got a lot to figure out.”

“There is nothing to figure out. Randal has been in their possession for months. Get me the plans and I will free him.”

“You need help, Clara. And what about Revel?”

“The only help I need is getting the blueprints.”

“If I disprove the evidence on me and convince the accuser to lift the claim of the mark, I have a good shot at getting out from under this,” Sprite said.

“So where is Randal,” Clara asked, breaking her silence, clearly caring more about finding her friend than much of anything else.

Turtle looked at the ninja, a little embarrassed he hadn’t asked this very question sooner himself.

“I don’t know,” Sprite said. “There wasn’t anything in the packet about that. I’m sorry.”

“I might know,” Turtle said, “Besides his extensive trade routes, Giresun also runs a heavy security prison.”

“I don’t follow every black mark,” Sprite said. “And I’m not in the habit of making money by calling the dogs on a colleague.”

“And how do you get unmarked?” Helen asked. “Do you have to go to court or something?”

“I’m not interested in facing these charges in their courts,” Sprite said. “That’s near suicide. What I will do is find the proof they have on me and who made the submission. The good and bad about the system is that everything is logged somewhere. Disprove the evidence and get the accuser to lift the claim, I’m starting something.”

“I’m just lucky that my first contact to anyone else who knew my black mark was Scotty,” Sprite said, “and not some bounty hunter.”

“Why didn’t you know the mark was on your name?” Turtle asked.

“They don’t send you a letter and let you know. They make you disappear and figure out the details later.”

“But clearly its public information of some kind. Otherwise why were all those bounty hunters after you?”

“The information is out there, sure, if you know how to get it. But I don’t make the time to keep up on every black marked ace."

Turtle could buy it, but it was still a little loose. “So Giresun recalled the team on you,” he said. “Why?”

“It appears he didn’t care which of us was captured and which was destroyed with another method,” Sprite said. “It wasn’t long after he recalled his team that he put the black mark on me.”

“And it took this long for you to find out?”

“My access points are so deep that there’s no way for anyone to tie them to me. I’ve been walking a tightrope these last couple months not even knowing what was beneath my feet.”

“One or two of those actually doing the work, sure, but an entire team behind the scenes? That was probably more than Revel could explain without sinking himself as well. Maybe he’s worried about giving Giresun too much. Make him suspicious, thinking this is all too easy for Revel. Maybe he’s stretching out his favors, hoping to cash in again a piece at a time. Whatever the reasoning, Revel clearly didn’t realize what a tight knit group we are.”

“You and Randal are family,” Helen said flatly.

Sprite made a small, awkward smile.

Turtle thought about this. Seemed pretty plausible.

“Some things are inferred,” Sprite said, “but much of it is plain to understand if you are willing to just listen.”

“And you have Revel giving up info on you and Ran?” Turtle said.

“Not explicitly. But whatever information he did give Giresun, Giresun used to make his next move, sending the teams after us. They’re intrinsically linked.”

“So if we don’t know what Revel gave them, how do we know he didn’t give them everything?”

“The story I see is that there was no way for Revel to actually explain that much information. A couple doing the work, sure.”

“So what have you found?” Turtle asked.

“Random bits and data points really,” Sprite said. “The packet I pulled had holes in it, encryption issues, rights access. But what I did piece together has Revel contacting Giresun two weeks after we completed our job for him. From there, Giresun takes whatever info Revel gave him and made his move. It looks like he set two teams after me and Ran, but recalled the second team once Randal was taken.”

“How do you know this?”

“It’s the story the data tells me,” Sprite said, trying to better explain. “It’s what’s there.”

“But after we do the dirty work for him,” Turtle said, “and Revel benefited from having his competition removed, he turns around and offers the information on the hitters to Giresun. He rats us out to Giresun for doing the job that Revel hired us to do! That twisty snake!”

“Why fight them when you can join them?” Sprite said.

“But how do we know he hasn’t completely sold us out?” Turtle said. “How do we know Giresun’s not on his way here now?”

“I suppose we don’t for sure,” Sprite said. “But what I’ve found says me and Ran.”

“Revel paid us,” Turtle said, “to take out three of Giresun’s depots that had taken over local routes and had been charging a premium for safe passage. You either pay the toll or travel a few hundred extra miles. Revel has already set up his own stations, returning much of the control to the locals. What could he possibly hope to gain by revealing to Giresun that he was behind this destruction?” Then realization hit Turtle. “He just bought his way into Giresun’s company. He steps in, taking over these passage routes after we knock Giresun out of these areas.”

Turtle was angry, tired, and stressed. “How long until Giresun takes us all out, one by one?”

“I think she’s right,” Sprite said.

“What?”

“I think Clara’s right,” Sprite said. “I don’t think Giresun knows the real story.”

“How so?” Turtle asked, not willing to hope she was correct.

“Just some bits I found on the data. Pieces that point back to Revel.”

“Claude Revel?” Turtle said, shock plain on his face. “But Revel was the one who hired us. He’s Giresun’s competitor.”

“Maybe not,” Sprite said. “Maybe he used this information to buy his way into Giresun’s good graces.”

“Giresun,” Turtle said, the name coming out as a curse. “The last job Randal had with us before he disappeared.” Turtle slammed the table, knocking over several items. Helen jumped, startled. “How did we not see this coming?”

“There’s no way you could have,” Clara said quietly. “We’re all professionals here. We all know how to do our job. And a job like Giresun’s includes not being found out as part of the job.”

“Obviously not,” Turtle said. “Clearly Giresun figured it out somehow. How long until he hits the rest of us? How long until we each disappear too?”

“It can’t be,” Turtle said. “No, it can’t be.”

“It is,” Sprite said simply.

“But how do you know?” the dart asked, unbelieving.

“He’s an unknown in their system, but through their own covert methods, they’re trying to discover who Randal is as much as we’re trying to find him.”

Turtle swallowed, looking to the floor. “But I don’t understand. We’re always so careful.”

“It makes sense though. Randal disappears. I’m black marked. Ran and I were the only ones working on this last one, so we were the closest to him. We’d be the first for him to find.”

Just like they taught him.

Then Randal thought of the one who had trained him, the one who had bent, beat, and prodded his body into submission and learning, the same one who caressed, rubbed, and rode his body with passion, the same one whom he had loved.

Clara.

Her golden hair, her smile, her smell. How he had missed her; how he missed her now again.

Another shot of pain, but this one further away, not as close.

Clara.

Her soft skin. Her red lips.

Pain again, but this one hardly noticed at all.

Clara.

Her laughter. Her love.

The drug Temmins hit Randal with kept the Special alert, aware of each piece of torture.

Randal buried his mind again, a skill he learned from the school of the Red Ninja. His mind quickly retreated as he trained it to, burying it deep.

He couldn’t last much longer. He couldn’t.

White pain.

Randal squeezed his eyes tight. Concentrate. The pain is outside him. Pull inward. Just like they had taught him.

Another blast of glaring, white hot pain.

He couldn’t last. Pull in. He couldn’t. Pull in. Away from the pain. He couldn’t do it. Just like they taught.

Randal’s vision clouded to gray and then was filled with sharp, blinding white. The Special honestly couldn’t even say if lights were involved or if it was just the way his brain was processing the pain, but it was white either way.

The Special pulled his mind inside himself, trying to hide it deep down. He couldn’t last much longer. He couldn’t keep enduring this. He couldn’t.

Another flash of white, searing pain.

He tried to black out; he wanted to black out. But Temmins hit him with another up dose of some kind of drug, keeping the Special awake.

Randal swallowed another scream. The pain was incredible. But he would not break. Not yet. The round man Temmins was laughing and he said something. But Randal was concentrating on blocking the majority of his senses at the moment, trying to deaden the horrible pain, so he didn’t even hear what the fat man said.

Ran knew he couldn’t take this much longer. Sure, his body would heal as it always did, but his mind. He didn’t know how much more his mind could take and for him to retain his sanity. The endless cycles, torture, rest, torture, heal, torture.

Turtle and Helen watched Clara continue her work, the ninja pulling up and moving info boxes visible only in her port goggles, examining the contents with her interact gloves, finding nothing about Randal, and then moving on again to the next box, each info dig seeming more pointless than the last.

But Turtle and Helen did not protest the ninja’s actions either, both understanding Clara’s actions all too well. If it had been either Turtle or Helen who had disappeared, the other would have never stopped searching, no matter how tired or how futile or how bleak the situation seemed.

Helen thought but didn’t answer immediately. Finally she said, “I’m fairly certain. Sprite says we should know definitely either way in the next hour.”

Clara nodded her head, considering the information. “Then I will continue with my own digging until then.”

“Clara, please,” Turtle protested, “you’ve been on these data digs for nearly a week now, hardly breaking for food or rest. Sprite will find him. Take this time to close your eyes a bit.”

Clara put the orange goggles back on and turned forward again, hands snapping forward deliberately, restarting the dig. “Not until we know,” she said simply.

A few hours later they had returned to the darts’ home base, and Sprite locked herself away in her workroom, quickly getting into the files.

Helen told Turtle about Sprite’s work over the last couple of days, leaving out some of the dangerous moments the two had experienced together. T was quick to take Helen to Clara and share some of the good news with her as well.

“Sprite found him with her dagger?” Clara asked, digging for info dumps on Ran in the observation booth again.

“Not yet,” Helen said, “but I think she will.”

“How certain are you?”

“I can’t get in too deep with the equipment I have here,” Sprite said to Helen while the two rode the boat across the choppy straits. Sprite wore opaque compuglasses over her eyes, a cord running to the port drive in her lap. “But I don’t think we wasted our time yesterday.”

“You found Randal?” Helen asked, excitement too great to hide.

“Not yet, but I think I will.”

Helen said a silent prayer of thanks, and Sprite continued to poke through the files, careful not to disturb anything that looked like it may contain a virus, lockdown, or self-destruct.

From there, Sprite retrieved the files she had uploaded the day before in the midst of her dagger. It was then that she noticed some charred scoring on the file she hadn’t seen earlier. Of course this data damage was easily explained by any one of several different factors that occurred in the dagger, and Sprite hoped the contents would still prove useful.

She cleaned what she could and saved the files out to her port drive and upon boarding a transport boat back to the mainland, Sprite began her peripheral examination of the contents, unable to do much more.

Scotty was still unconscious the next morning when Sprite, Helen, and Helen’s bull dober prepared to leave the submarine. Sprite thanked Ling, Vapor, and Darkholm again. “Tell Scotty all debts are paid,” Sprite said. The others nodded and the darts and dog left with little fanfare.

They stopped at a public terminal and paid an inordinate fee to access the waves, the purveyor reminding them again of how cut off Griffin Isle really was. Sprite veiled her login with a false ID in a sub-site, then fished through a mirror proxy before logging in again under a second fabricated identity.

But would Sprite wait for the proper credentials that Scotty was gathering, creating for her safe passage? No. Instead, she was smashing through barriers before she was really ready. Then to avoid enforcements, they had to yank her faster than any human being should be pulled.

Scotty swallowed three tranqs, lying back down in bed. His shaking slowed. Exhaustion was finally winning and his body was drifting off into blackness. And Scotty’s final wonderings were how Sprite had been able to survive so much today. She had been through more than Scotty, yet she had little more than a scratch.

Scotty was mended by the doctor, but Scotty always wondered if they really paid the doctor enough to actually keep his mouth shut. Spose it was a good thing this time that they would be pulling up anchor tomorrow morning. Could never be too safe. Then Scotty had to dive into the upswell to help Sprite, the woman who had ruined his auction good times and caused all this strife, perform an insane dagger. How many people had Scotty known personally to even attempt a dagger, let alone actually survive one?

That was an interesting question, and he pondered that.

Scotty couldn’t sleep, his body and emotions a wreck from the day. He wasn’t made for these sorts of chemical upswings due to all the excitement. First there was the excitement of the auction. Then he was chased and attacked by Sprite and practically tortured by Helen. After that, he was forced to call down his guardian orbiter because he was fearing for his own life. But the orbiter only served to make the dangers of the situation worse. Next he had to witness his prized antique being destroyed by the same woman he helped only a few hours late.

Vapor wouldn’t check the stream as per Ling’s orders, but she considered what the reward for Sprite’s black mark must be. It had to be tempting to garner this much attention. Perhaps after their move she would take a peak.

Ling and Darkholm made love that night, both glad to have gotten out relatively unscathed, glad to be alive, and glad to have someone to hold and to hold them in this dark world.

Scotty lay in bed, trembling, unable to go to sleep for some time, his body still producing an overload of adrenaline. Too much danger and stress.

That night Helen prayed on her knees for a long time, silver crucifix in her grip. She thanked God for protecting Sprite in the dagger and for protecting the both of them from the space AI. She prayed these mechs would be safe, thanked God for her husband and other members of their family, and prayed to find Randal quickly and for his wellbeing.

Sprite also retired early. She ran a quick diagnostic on her body, not exactly happy but still satisfied with the results, then went to bed, dead on her feet and in desperate need of a recharge.

Everyone stood in silence, all wondering if having to repair their systems, having to replace techquipment, and having to move their base of operations was in vain. Finally Helen spoke. “Sprite, did you get anything?”

Sprite slowed her breathing and removed her compuglasses and headset, nodding. “It’s still encrypted, but I managed to fragment the file and upload most to a cloud drive. I can retrieve it from a public port tomorrow and work on breaking the code offline on our trip back home.”

Helen smiled, glad the dagger was fruitful and glad that Sprite just called their base home.

They all waited in silence, their breathing feeling noisy and foreign in the room’s darkness. They hoped the backup power sources would kick in, but none were actually confident. But after a moment later they did, batteries switching on, and dim, greenish emergency lights flickering to life.

“This location is burned,” Ling said. “We keep our units off and untethered. We shove off for a new home tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Vapor asked.

Ling turned and said, “You want to risk it?”

Vapor didn’t respond. The figures in the room were grave, wondering if it had all been worth it.

“Got her!” Darkholm shouted, turning off his systems with a hard reboot. Sprite sat up in the raised bed, propped up on one elbow, gasping for air, her skin pale.

“Hard reboot, everyone,” Ling said, flipping her own system off. Scotty and Vapor followed suit, Vape getting one last glance of the ghost rampaging their mainframe processors before her screen flickered to black.

“Now, Helen,” Ling said.

Helen flipped the kill switch and everything went pitch black.

Silence enveloped the dark room, no one before noticing how much the constant hum of the techquipment had filled the place with substance.

“Helen,” Ling said, not looking up from her monitors or slowing her frantic typing. “Get ready to throw the kill switch.”

Helen nodded, placing her hand over the red switch. Then she added, “Ready,” realizing no one was watching to see the nod. Her hand stood over it, sweating and starting to tremble. She shook the hand, trying to lose the tremble, and replaced it over the red kill switch, this time steady. She stared at Ling and the others working frantically to get her dart home safely, waiting for the signal that said Sprite was back, flip the switch.

“Bring her home now, Dark,” Ling said. “This ghost has nearly compromised our system!”

Vapor brought up their systems again on her monitors, returning to patching holes and throwing barriers where possible. There wasn’t even time to create elevated traps, the system was in such shambles.

Scotty switched his own monitors over to home defense, swearing when he saw the damage the ghost and the several specters had done. “Give me a minute and I can track some of them,” he said.

“There’s no time!” Ling said. “Just keep porting the central drives and slow them down all you can.”

“Scotty!” Sprite yelled, her distant voice over their headsets serious but not panicked. “I need that exit now!”

“Portal at 8.9.7 in three, two, one, mark!” Scotty said.

Vapor swapped monitor views, leaving their own system to the background. “She’s through!” Vapor yelled, Sprite’s signal suddenly vanishing from the quad.

“I’m reading her,” Darkholm said, monitoring the shopping site where they had directed her drastic plummet from encryption.

“Portal’s closed,” Scotty said. “The quad is in lockdown.” Vapor’s own image of the quad flashed red and the further details from the data stream were now jumbled characters and nonsense text.

Vapor was working as fast and as hard as she could to get the intruders out of their system, but she glanced over once more at the data stream for Sprite’s encryption quad, still trying to keep one eye on that situation until the ace mech was out and had completed the dagger. Over 80 detained and 27 probable security in the quad, all on the hunt for Sprite.

Vapor went back to cleaning their system. She felt certain Sprite would be caught. Then what could the rest of them do? What would they have to do just to survive?

“Yes!” Ling said to Helen’s offer of assistance, a desperate maneuver coming to her. “When I say, hit that kill switch to the hard line.” She gestured with her head to a red covered switch on the wall, dozens of cords coming out of the wall next to it and splicing to connect to all the computers in the room. “But not too soon,” Ling cautioned, “or we could lose Sprite in there.”

Helen understood and readied herself in position, lifting the hinged, clear plastic safety cover, careful not to touch the red switch. She eyed the room and swallowed.

“We got another ghost in here!” Vapor shouted, looking at their internal security. “He’s going through our work like Swiss cheese!”

The situation was grim. Some of the invading specters had been trapped, but there were just too many of them. Eventually one would get in too deep.

Ling cursed again. “I need more hands!”

“I need that exit!” Sprite yelled.

“Is there anything I can do?”

Ling glanced up, for a moment not realizing who was offering her services. It was Helen.

“Twelve seconds,” Scotty said. “Look for a hole at 8.9.7.”

“I don’t have twelve seconds!” Sprite said.

“Downgrade to elite?” Vapor said, pulling off her goggles. “Are you nuts? No one can come down that fast!”

“Just make it happen, Scotty!” Sprite said. “They’re closing in!”

Darkholm returned to his keyboard, fingers flying. “I’ve got a safe landing field,” he said, sending the first of the coordinates to Scotty’s system. “Commerce. She’ll get lost with 19 million shopaholics.”

“Can I get some help here?” Ling said. “For every blockade I put up, they tear out two more holes.”

Darkholm and Scotty were working Sprite’s exit, so Vapor went back to home defense, patching holes and building barriers.

“I think this is it,” Sprite said, excitement noticeable in her echoing, distant voice coming through their headsets. “I just need to crack their access code.”

“There’s no time!” Vapor shouted. “You’re whole quad is crawling with police.”

“You’re right,” Sprite conceded, defeat in her voice.

“Reinforcements have arrived,” Scotty said.

Sprite cursed. “Scotty, I need an exit.”

“Go back through admin.”

“Negative. They’ve blocked access.”

“Can’t we just drop her back to private?” Vapor asked the room.

“If they’re watching admin, they’re watching private,” Scotty said, fingers hammering over the keyboards again. “We have to go straight to elite.”

“The Detain All command has been sent,” Scotty said. “Leave now!”

“Not yet,” Sprite said again, refusing to leave before she found solid intel on Randal’s location. Otherwise this whole dagger would have been for nothing.

Vapor watched as the personnel she had marked as security began to freeze the other signals, locking the individuals down.

“They’ve nearly cracked by prop job,” Darkholm said. “They’re about to lock you down.”

“Wait! I think I found something!” Sprite said.

“Security reinforcements are closing in!” Scotty said.

“I’m up to eight specters in our system,” Ling said. “Sprite, get out of there!”

“Sprite, any data leads on your missing man?” Ling asked.

“Not yet,” Sprite said. “Can you assist Dark yet? Slow down some enforcement?”

“Negative. I’m doing all I can to keep these guys from getting in too deep within our systems.”

“Sprite, I just found three more possible security personnel in your vicinity,” Vapor said.

“And they know what quad you’re in,” Scotty said. “Expect possible detention with complete lockdown imminent. Get out of their now!”

“Not yet. I haven’t found what I need,” Sprite said.

Vapor continued to flow through personnel. “I’m reading twelve probable security in your quad!”

Vapor saw something in the data stream she didn’t like. She pulled on the large goggles again, being able to operate this mode quicker. “Correction, I have one possible security enforcement. Sprite, entity 011B appears to be security. Avoid at all costs. Do you copy?”

“I copy,” Sprite said, her voice a distant tinning over their headsets.

“I’m continuing with personnel checks,” Vapor said.

“Sprite, I’m picking up a security dispatch to your sector,” Scotty said. “Your quad will be in lockdown in under a minute.”

“I’m trying to slow their response time,” Darkholm said, “but it won’t be much.”

“Copy that,” Sprite said, acknowledging the warning.

“I’m fogging communications in your quad and six adjacent,” Scotty said. “It should slow them down.”

“Twenty-two cleared,” Vapor said.

“I’ve flagged two, Vapor,” Darkholm said.

“Checking them now.”

“Scotty, any security taps?” Sprite asked.

“Nothing yet,” he said. “But I still say a minute and a half, tops.”

“Understood.”

Helen was ringing her hands, wishing there was more she could do. She found solace in stroking her bull dober’s head. He licked her hand.

“They’re clean,” Vapor said, returning to the others on her list. “Wait a second,” Vapor said, seeing something.

“Yes, Dark, my history with enforcement is rather long,” Sprite said. “But now is not the time for distractions.”

“Vapor,” Ling said, “How are those 103 unknowns coming?”

Vapor drew her mind free from the web of panic and forced herself to keep working. “Thirteen cleared so far,” she said.

“Dark, you want to help with any of this?” Ling said.

“Already pulling Vapor’s data and back tracking some of the others. If we get their last location, we might be able to determine whether they could be trouble. But remember, Sprite dear, some of these 103 are certainly security.”

“Negative,” Sprite said. “I’ve got over two minutes before lockdown. That’s a lot of time to work.”

“Are you off? They’re going to catch you!” Vapor said. “And if they catch you, they catch me! I’ve got a record! I can’t get busted out again!”

“Control yourself, sugar,” Darkholm said, his voice calm once again. “You’ve seen some of Sprite’s capabilities. She knows what she’s doing, and she’s not getting caught. If I remember right, her own record is also rather long. I’m sure she has much more to lose if she is indeed caught. Isn’t that right, Sprite dear?”

“Sprite, you’ve got a security breach, code seven,” Scotty said. “I’m shut out, so you’re stuck at 89% access credentials. Authorities will lock down your sector and be on top of you in under three minutes.”

“Ling,” Sprite said, “I need you to slow them down while I’m digging through materials.”

“No can do; we’ve got five specters up to their knees in our security. If I leave them alone, they’ll be swimming in our system in no time.”

“You don’t have time to dig through anything,” Vapor said, not believing Sprite. “You’ve got to get out of there now!”

A ghost was a ghost. And the ghost they had faced had been quite formidable. Vapor didn’t understand how over the course of a sector transfer, Sprite could disable the other ghost to the point of being effectively or even actually gone.

But now wasn’t the time to ask, because at that point, some of their bad luck became worse. It could have been because of the ghost’s tagalong. Or perhaps the missing 11% of Sprite’s access level had a key component that Scotty hadn’t gotten. Or perhaps fortune simply frowned rather than smiled.

Whatever the reason, alarms went off.

“Sprite,” Vapor said, eying what stats she had. “You’ve got 103 others in your quad, but I don’t know who’s security yet. I’m working on getting the adjacent quads.”

“Copy,” Sprite said.

“What about that ghost?” Ling asked.

“Taken care of,” Sprite said. “But it’s going to slow down my uploads.”

“Taken care of?” Vapor said, not believing what she heard. How could anyone just take out a ghost like that, especially after locking a hold strong enough to be transferred through a barrier and into encryption?

“The ghost is a non-issue,” Sprite repeated, “but my uploads will be delayed.”

But the ghost avoided Darkholm’s blockades easily, not willing to be denied, still fast on Sprite’s trail. Sprite reached the doorway for encryption, entering the barrier and already starting to vanish from Vapor’s view, entering the next level. But because Scotty had only reached 89% entrance, the transfer took too much time. The ghost was able to reach Sprite and lock a hold for the transfer, being pulled through with Sprite into encryption.

Upon entering encryption level, the ghost and Sprite completely disappeared from Vapor’s monitor. She checked some numbers, but location coordinates and other specifics were limited at best.

“Not yet, Sprite,” Ling said. “Just a bit longer.”

But it was too late. Already the ghost had left their mainframe as quickly as he had entered, now rapidly zeroing in on Sprite’s signal.

“Faster, Sprite!” Vapor said. “There’s a ghost on you!”

Ling threw up a patch, blocking the specters from tracing the ghost’s trail into their mainframe. Being specters, their skills weren’t as high as a ghost. But it wouldn’t take them long to break through a patch. Ling kept at it, trying to seal the hole tight.

Darkholm drew three quick blockades between the ghost and Sprite.

No, it wouldn’t take a ghost of these obvious abilities long at all to wreak havoc in their system, eventually taking them over completely.

“Eighty-nine,” Scotty said, and for a second, Ling didn’t even realize what it was he was talking about.

And then a familiar voice they hadn’t heard for what seemed like hours crackled over everyone’s headsets. “I’m not waiting any longer,” Sprite said. “I’m entering encryption.”

Vapor pulled up Sprite’s sector and saw the ace hack back on her terminal, quickly moving across the sector and toward the entrance to encryption.

“Sprite, wait for it,” Ling demanded.

“We’ll worry about patchwork later,” Ling said.

“I’ve got one specter tunneling, another climbing,” Vapor said.

“I got ’em,” Ling said. “Dark, how’s that ghost?”

“No trail,” he said.

“Stay on him. He can’t have disappeared completely.”

“I’ve got him!” Vapor yelled.

“What?” Ling turned toward her.

“He just vaulted through the specter’s pathway. He’s deep in our mainframe!”

Ling turned to her monitor, looking at their security. Sure enough, the ghost had reappeared, and he was terrorizing their systems. Even with all the trapdoors, mazes, and security add-ons they had, a ghost of this skill could do real damage.

The ghost’s path continued to elude Darkholm. And it would be foolish to simply hope the ghost had gone away.

“Ok, keep an eye on the area, but I need your help in home protection,” Ling said to Vapor. “We’re no good to Sprite if they track down our location and shut us down. Back up my cleaner and run an imprint.”

Vapor switched modes, shrinking the view on Sprite’s daggered sector, and moving over to their own firewalls and trenches. “Ok, I got your cleaner backup. What about the stucco?”

“Ignore it. We’ve got to get these guys out.”

The noise might draw a few thrill seekers, but most norms would avoid the area, knowing they were out of their league.

“Two more specters,” Vapor said, “besides the five in our backyard.” This was also to be expected. With the obviously high price for Sprite’s current black mark, would be bounty hunters would certainly investigate spikes of activity. “But not ghosts.” This was both good and bad. Good that they didn’t read any new ghosts. Bad that the other ghost that had been in the sector was still not found. Darkholm was still fruitlessly trying to find the trail.

“Run another monitor,” Ling said.

“The monitor’s not doing a thing!” Vapor yelled back, scared and frustrated.

“Don’t panic,” Ling said.

“I need some help here!” Vapor said. “This wall is about to go!”

Ling cursed, switching over her view. Then she cursed again, seeing how bad the situation really was.

“I told you,” Vapor said.

“I’m running a cleaner,” Ling said. “Check Sprite’s sector. I need a traffic update.”

Vapor checked another screen for stats and locations. “47 spectators.” Most had cleared out as was to be expected after the crosstide and other hot action occurring in that sector.

“Outer wall is breached!” Vapor said.

“Vapor, run a monitor,” Ling said.

“I lost him!” Darkholm said, slamming the desk in front of him and frantically scanning his monitors for the missing ghost. “Vapor do you see him?”

Vapor finished running the monitor and kicked her chair over to a different screen. “No, I don’t see him anywhere.”

Darkholm cursed.

“This ghost is finished,” Ling said, returning to her previous monitor, desperately trying to find the missing ghost.

Vapor kicked back to her home protection monitor. “The piggybackers are inside the outer courtyard and about to breach the main quarters!”

“Our outer defenses are still compromised from the last attack,” Ling said. “Vapor, you’re going to have to hold them off.”

“But I’m no systems expert,” she protested.

“Just do it!” Ling yelled, fear and anger flashed in her eyes.

Vapor returned to her monitor. “Working up a decoy,” she said, fingers flying across the keyboard.

“Ling, he’s trying to double back,” Darkholm said. “I need you to pick up the trail or we’ll lose him!”

“I can’t! I’m still breaking through this one’s defenses!”

“Run a bot! This one is about to get away!”

“He’s too good for that!”