Noa hung on the ladder in the wall next to the manhole. “James, what’s wrong?” she half-shouted over the sound of screams, rifle fire, breaking glass, and the museum alarm. Her partner in crime … or whatever … stood half-in, half-out of the tunnels. He didn’t answer. Perhaps his injuries were worse than she’d feared? “James, can you move? Can you climb out of the way?”

She could feel the heat of the flames from the Molotov cocktails against her back. They’d hold the Guard back for a while, but soon they’d figure out their ruse and their destination.

James quickly shimmied up the ladder, and Noa felt relief uncoil in her belly. She scrambled up as he gave the signal for all-clear above. Gunny must have seen because he shouted, “Everybody up!” Noa popped out into the hot sunshine of the Prime morning. James stood, a rifle sagging in his arms. His neck was craned upward. Noa looked beyond him, out of the artfully-designed picnic area that could serve as a catch-pond during the rainy season, to the hulking shadow that was the Ark.

“I remember it as being bigger,” James shouted over the roar of the museum alarm, stretching out the arm he’d just been favoring, and giving his hand a shake.

Noa squinted up at the vessel. “It’s large enough for our founding families.” She took off toward the steps.

James caught up to her. “It looks older than I remember. And … mutated.”

Noa scowled. Picky off-worlder. True, the ship looked a little beat-up. The sides were scarred with over a decade’s worth of asteroid impacts, and the Central Authority hadn’t bothered to give it a paint job—paint was chipping off its dirty, rain-streaked hull. Also, the holo Ghost had projected for them was of a ship of the same class, but new. The ship in the holo hadn’t spent years in deep space, endured a rough landing, and served as housing for the First Families for over a decade. It was evident from the Ark’s not precisely streamlined form that the crew had had to make some special modifications during that time—however, “By Republic law, it has to be space worthy!” she shouted. “It looks old—”

“It looks mangled,” James interjected.

Ignoring the comment, Noa continued, “It has all the comforts of modern times—real grav and food.” Pausing almost at the top of the steps of the picnic area, she ducked to scan the courtyard through her sights. The base of the Ark was surrounded by a decorative awning that allowed tourists to walk the perimeter of the base without being drenched in the rainy season or scorched in the summer. No one seemed to be hiding in the shadows, and she caught no signs of movement through the decorative planters. The Ark’s exhibit was situated between two prongs of the Tri-Center Building. On one side was the museum. Through glass walls she could make out three stories of exhibits. On the other side were walls of stucco and less glass—the wing of the spaceport. She saw no one in either direction; no tourists, no passengers, no members of the Guard. Just to be sure, she tapped James’s shoulder. Sparing her vocal cords, she pointed to her eyes, and back to the building, a silent sign for, “See anyone?” Meeting her gaze, he shook his head. She took a deep breath. The tourists and guides had fallen back into the heart of the Tri-Center building. This was working too perfectly, and she felt a stab of dread.

Bringing her focus back to the courtyard, she muttered, “This is too easy,” too softly to possibly be heard, but James’s head whipped in her direction faster than a gray snake. She couldn’t hear him, but she saw the startled, “What?” on his lips.

She gave as much of a shrug as she could with the rifle in her hands. There was no way she could explain it. She glanced back quickly in the direction they’d come. Ghost was cowering in the depression with Hisha and the students. Oliver was stirring on Hisha’s shoulder, and 6T9 was standing up, shaking his head, blindfold still in place. Manuel was trying to push him down. The ‘bot was frowning, saying something to Eliza that Noa couldn’t hear over the alarm. Gunny and Chavez were standing over the manhole, Molotov cocktails in their hands. Gunny met Noa’s eyes and Manuel did, too. They both gave curt nods. Leaving Manuel to keep 6T9 in line, and Gunny and Chavez to keep any pursuers from below confused—or at least busy—Noa and James darted quickly to the awning surrounding the Ark.

The contents of shattered souvenir hologlobes dropped by tourists crunched beneath their feet. She heard far-off screams, muffled explosions, and the alarm—she knew it would be ringing in her head for days. She wished she could turn down her hearing and use the ethernet to communicate to James and with her team. She wanted to feel the gentle flow of electrons that would let her know they were well, even without their conscious thoughts. She silently cursed having to rely on her battered eardrums.

Reaching the base of the Ark, Noa and James put their backs to the hull in the same heartbeat. Noa glanced toward the picnic area again. She couldn’t see the team—Manuel must have convinced 6T9 to sit. As she thought that, Manuel’s head popped over the top of the steps. He met Noa’s gaze. Noa gave him the all-clear. Manuel disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared carrying his rifle and seemingly dragging Ghost by the collar toward the Ark.

The rest of the team hid in the depression, taking cover in case they had to beat a fast retreat. Noa took a deep breath. She didn’t believe there could be a retreat now. This had to work. Just before Manuel and Ghost reached them, she turned to James. He gave her a tiny nod, and raised his weapon. Together they walked around the Ark in opposite directions, like well-oiled parts of the same machine … even without the ethernet.

Rifle raised, Noa was ready for incoming fire. It never came, which made her gut constrict. Her eyes met James’s as he rounded the base from the other side. Noa darted to the cage-like elevator for tourists that ran up and down the side of the Ark while James covered her. Whoever had been operating the elevator when the alarm went off had had the presence of mind to lock it. The doors wouldn’t budge. Cursing, Noa tested the buttons. Nothing happened. She thought of asking James to try, but brute force might damage the lift and make it unusable, and then they’d have to climb twenty meters up to the entrance. There might be a better way … Giving the signal for “wait” to James, she ran around the base, the alarm still blaring in her ears.

Ghost was cowering beneath the awning, back pressed to the hull in the cluster of thrusters at the base.

“Ghost!” Noa shouted. “Need you! Elevator locked.”

“What?” Noa saw the word on his lips, but couldn’t hear it over the sound of the alarm. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him toward the lift. For an instant, he dug in his heels, and her heart skipped a beat. But then, overcoming his fear, he followed her, letting his rifle hang from his back and covering his ears.

As they rounded the base, the alarm abruptly shut off.

“The elevator,” Noa shouted, her ears ringing even with the alarm gone. “It’s locked—”

“And undoubtedly shut down,” Ghost said with a scowl.

“Can you do anything?” Noa said in a normal voice.

Ghost’s eyes darted side to side. “I built the mainframe. The mainframe that controls everything!” His voice was angry, defensive.

“Can you open it?” Noa demanded.

“If it’s connected by hardline. These things are quite primitive and … ”

“Do it,” Noa commanded.

Ghost continued to look around nervously.

“James and I will cover you,” said Noa.

“Okay, okay, yes.” Ghost shook his head, sank to the ground, and pulled his knees to his chin. “Trying to access now … ”

Noa kneeled on one knee, and James did the same. Swinging her rifle around, she peered through the sights, looking for any sign of movement, but saw none. In the direction of the depression, she heard the sound of glass crashing and Gunny shouting, “Another.” Oliver was crying, and 6T9 was saying, “Eliza, I believe the child is in need of assistance.” But other than that, and the ringing in her ears, it was eerily quiet.

“I don’t like this,” Noa said.

“You’d rather they be firing at us?” James said.

Noa’s fingers twitched on the trigger. “Someone should have confronted us here.”

James only grunted.

“Ghost,” she said. “Can you open the elevator?”

She only got a mumbled chant in response.

High above them, a ptery called out. Noa felt a bead of sweat prickle on her brow. Peering through her sights, she methodically swept the museum wing, first, second, and third floors. No one moved inside, and then she dropped her gaze to the junction between the branches of the building. In the double doors there, she saw a shadow move. She heard one of the doors click. “We’ve got incoming!” she said.

“I only see one figure,” James replied.

“Could be a single guy making sure the museum has been evacuated.” Noa continued to gaze through her sights. “Could be armed … Be ready.”

Over the sound of her own heart, she heard the door click again. Noa was ready for the Guard, or even just museum security. She expected to see a weapon raised. She expected gunfire. Instead, a man awkwardly sidled out the door, holding his hands above his head. The instant she saw his profile, Noa screamed.

Noa’s shout nearly split James’s eardrums. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” An instant later, she was springing to her feet, lowering her rifle, and shouting, “Kenji, Kenji, it’s me!”

It took a moment for James to recognize the man. He’d seen the adult Kenji in Noa’s memories, and at a distance when they’d approached his condo unit. Time must have added wrinkles to Kenji’s face and gray hair at his temples, because he looked much older than James remembered. He was broader, too. And he wore head-to-toe Luddeccean Green. James’s mind snapped the pieces together. Kenji followed the Luddeccean doctrines on anti-augmentation; he looked his natural age so, although he was younger than Noa, he looked older. And he was working with the Central Authority. He’d come from that wing to the courtyard, but why had he come here, unarmed?

“I knew it was you, Big Sister,” Kenji said. “And I know what you’re trying to do.” He gave a slight smile and nodded. “It’s a good idea.”

James couldn’t see Noa’s face from where he still half-kneeled, scanning the two wings of the complex, but he could hear a half-sob in her voice when she said, “We tried to come get you, but we couldn’t; now you’re here, and we can escape.”

“No, Big Sister, no one’s going anywhere,” said Kenji, his voice soft, his words slow, as though he was talking to a frightened animal. “I’m going to get you help. I tried before … this time it will work. I’ll oversee your re-education myself.”

At the words “I tried before” and “re-education,” James felt a prickle in the back of his neck, and heat race along every inch of his skin. Kenji … Kenji had sent Noa to the camp.

Noa gasped and backed away. “What?”

James was on his feet. “Manuel, cover Ghost!” he roared. He heard the engineer rounding the base of the Ark, but didn’t turn to look. He strode toward Noa and Kenji, imaging Kenji’s spine snapping in his hands, but then drew to a stop. The side of his lip ached to curl in a snarl. Noa would never forgive him if he hurt her brother.

Kenji grabbed Noa’s hand. “I’ll get you help. You were always there for me, Big Sister. I’ll be there for you. I know you’re wrapped up in that Archangel Project, but I’ll get you help.”

“No, Kenji, no,” Noa said, shaking her head and pulling her hand away.

Kenji’s brow furrowed. And then he said, “I intercepted the signals, Noa … maybe you don’t know it … ”

Noa put her hands on his shoulders. “You have to come with us, Kenji.”

Putting his hands over hers, Kenji guided her hands gently down. “No one is going anywhere, Noa,” Kenji said. “I changed all of the passcodes on the Ark—and Dan’s access codes to the mainframe. But it will be okay, you’ll see. I’m protecting you.” Kenji looked down at her injured hand. “What happened to your fingers?”

A ptery screamed above their heads.

“They cut them off at the re-education camp,” Noa said in a strange, flat voice. James found himself taking another step forward. Noa tried to pull away, but Kenji caught her fingers—the ones she had left, James thought darkly.

“No, Noa, you must be mistaken. I told them you were not to be harmed when I turned you in.”

James felt like his skin was burning from within. He took another step toward Noa.

Noa jerked away from Kenji, shaking her head.

“Noa, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Kenji said, closing the distance between them.

Noa stumbled backward. James couldn’t stop himself. He darted forward, rifle raised. “Stay away from her!”

Kenji turned to him. His eyes went up and down, and his lip curled. “Noa, do you know what this is?” He pointed at James, took a step back, and his voice rose in volume. “He’s one of them!”

“No, Kenji, no,” Noa said, shaking her head.

“I’ve seen his picture from the chase footage in the North! He’s the one! He’s the one!” Kenji was screaming now. “You are consorting with the end of the human race!”

“I’ve got it!” Ghost shouted.

“No!” cried Kenji, looking over Noa’s shoulder in alarm.

And then too many things happened at once. James heard an explosion from the direction of the sewer line. In the periphery of his vision, he saw shadows moving in the windows of both wings of the building.

Spinning in place, Kenji threw up his arms. “No! Wait! Don’t shoot my sister!”

Not trusting Kenji’s pleas for mercy, James wrapped an arm around Noa and guided her toward the lift. She didn’t precisely protest, but she stumbled beneath him, and he heard her half-sob, “No, Kenji, no.”

Somewhere, Gunny shouted, “Go, go, go!” and he saw him maneuvering the civilians toward the Ark, 6T9’s blindfold still on but falling.

“Eliza!” the ‘bot shouted.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” the old woman cried in his arms, “keep going!”

Gunfire erupted from the building, and a bottle went rushing over James’s head. Others shattered on either side of him and Noa. The remaining Molotov cocktails, he realized. The bottles caught in the decorative planters and the tall, dry tropical grasses erupted in flames and smoke, putting a curtain of fire between the Ark and the Guard in the building.

“Kenji!” Noa cried under James’s arm as they reached the now-open elevator.

“Get in,” Ghost shouted, to everyone and no one.

And suddenly the sky went orange and dark. “Fire retardant,” Noa said as James pushed her into the elevator.

“Hisha!” screamed Manuel. A bullet whizzed by. Manuel stumbled backward and clutched his arm, his rifle sagging from the strap on his shoulder. He was pushed into the elevator by the still-blindfolded 6T9 carrying a wide-eyed Eliza. Tripping backward, Manuel fell to the floor—and James could smell blood in the air.

“Get ‘em in there, Chavez!” James heard Gunny roar, and a moment later Chavez shoved the rest of the team in, trapping Manuel, James, and Noa in the back of the elevator. The flames, smoke, and fire retardant were so thick that through the wire cage James could only see a few meters. He felt something on top of his foot and blinked down to see Carl Sagan scurry over him and up the metal cage of the lift. Gunfire was going off in an angry staccato from both directions, but he couldn’t see the shooters. Gunny stumbled into the elevator, face orange, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t see!”

“Where is Hisha? Where is Hisha?” Manuel stammered on the ground. He tried to raise himself, but slipped. Metal creaked above their heads, and the elevator jerked into ascent.

From the ground came the sound of Oliver’s wail, rising over the scream of bullets, and the roar of flames.

Eyes tearing, Gunny was hanging out the still-open door. “She was ahead of me! Oh, God, the kid!”

“The child is in distress,” said 6T9, setting Eliza down quickly.

“Help him! Help him!” said the old woman.

Noa was already pushing toward the front of the elevator. 6T9 was instantly beside her, blindfold gone. James felt his mind alight in fear and frustration. Couldn’t she ever keep her head down?

Oliver’s wail rose again above the sound of flames. “Hisha,” screamed Manuel from the floor. James looked back to see him crawling, one-armed, toward the front of the elevator between the press of legs.

“Manuel!” Hisha’s breathless call just barely rose above the din.

“Stop the elevator! Stop the elevator!” Manuel shouted. The elevator jolted to a stop … but then began to ascend again, this time a little more slowly.

“I can’t stop it!” Ghost panted. “A bullet … something is jammed.”

Noa dropped to her knees. The ground was over two meters below. “Hisha!” she shouted, reaching out a hand.

“6T9, help Noa, you’re stronger!” Eliza shouted.

The ‘bot reached out a hand to Hisha, too. The woman was jogging toward the elevator, clutching Oliver who was screaming louder with each bullet that fired and ricocheted off the hull of the Ark—each one seemingly closer to the pair despite the curtains of smoke and fire retardant … They couldn’t see Hisha. A thought struck James. “They are aiming at the child’s screams.”

As soon as the words and thought had passed from him, Hisha fell. Noa screamed, and James could see the muscles in Noa’s arms strain and knew she was going to jump. Oliver was still wailing on the ground. In his mind, realizations collided in a stinging flurry of electricity. Noa wouldn’t leave the child, she’d jump down there, attempt to rescue him, and make herself the target. Before he could second guess himself, or formulate a plan, he shoved Noa down and leaped over her and 6T9, landing on the ground next to Hisha. Above him, he heard Noa say, “Chavez, let loose with all you’ve got!” and heard gunfire from the elevator roar above his head. Noa wasn’t going to jump down—she was going to try and cover him. It was oddly a relief even as return fire came from all directions.

James knelt down on the ground next to the fallen woman. She’d landed on top of Oliver, now only whimpering. Another bullet hit her side right before his eyes and her body jerked. Oliver wailed. “Hisha,” James said, getting closer, eyes stinging with the fire retardant that was congealing near the ground in a thick cloud. She didn’t move from where she lay, body huddled over Oliver. He touched her shoulder, and felt slick hot blood. He lifted her up and realized there was a bullet wound in the back of her head—and another in the front right above her open eyes. The wailing Oliver was coated in red and gore. The child took a deep breath, and for a moment his cries became soft gasps. James ripped the cloth of the carrier, picked up the child roughly with one arm. His mind went still, blank, and dark. The elevator was too high. He couldn’t make it. He knew it like he’d known how to kill a man with a roundhouse kick, or a quick twist of the neck, or that he could leap two and a quarter meters into the air. Oliver wailed again. Bullets screamed by them.

He should run.

Instead, against all logic, he jumped. Some useless part of his brain calculated that he would miss the platform by a good half meter, and even 6T9’s extended hand by at least forty centis.

Even as that thought was passing through his mind, 6T9 slid down so he was hanging over the edge by his waist and caught James’s hand. And it was like a light had gone off in James’s mind; it spread to the world and every fiber of James’s being and for an instant, everything was brighter.

And then 6T9 began to slip forward.

Noa eyes were tearing as she sprayed bullets haphazardly into the wall of red fire retardant. It wasn’t all because of smoke or the cocktail of chemicals doused on the flame. She aimed high, telling herself their snipers would be on the roof. It was also where Kenji wouldn’t be. The elevator shuddered beneath her, and Noa hazarded a glance down just in time to see 6T9 catch James’s arm. Laying flat on the floor of the elevator, 6T9’s entire torso was hanging over the edge. And then it was like a slow-motion nightmare. James was dangling, Oliver was screaming, and bullets were still raging. One of the bullets hit 6T9 square in the arm, leaving a black hole. The ‘bot didn’t flinch, but he was quickly sliding forward. Eliza toppled on top of the ‘bot, shouting, “He caught them!” Manuel threw his weight on one of 6T9’s legs. Noa braced a foot on 6T9’s backside, trying to help, but she didn’t dare stop shooting, for fear the return fire would intensify. As she thought that, another bullet whizzed by James so close she saw a piece of his shirt rip and catch in the breeze. His face remained impassive, but his eyes briefly met hers. He could have climbed up 6T9’s body if he only let go of Oliver, but he didn’t.

For an instant the scene was crystal clear, in the way that only battle could be. The Luddecceans were firing at James and 6T9. The sex ‘bot, a symbol of all that was degenerate, and the fallen angel of their twisted fantasies were trying to save a human child.

“Pull them up!” Eliza said.

“Oliver!” screamed Manuel.

“I have no leverage, my darling Eliza,” 6T9 shouted.

Still spraying bullets, Noa half-turned her head and snarled at the students, “Pull him up!”

Snapping out of their shock-induced comas, the students dropped to the floor and began pulling the ‘bot backward with Manuel and Eliza. Chavez and Noa kept firing into the red cloud. Even Gunny was firing. His eyes were weeping and shut from the sting of fire retardant—but they were all firing blindly anyway.

The elevator jerked so quickly she nearly lost her footing. Just as she ran out of ammo, she heard scraping behind her, felt cool air against her back, and Ghost shouted, “It’s open!”

“Eliza! Help guide Manuel and Gunny!” Noa shouted, dropping her useless weapon and falling to her knees to help the students pull the ‘bot, James, and Oliver into the elevator as Chavez continued to spray bullets.

“Hurry, come!” Ghost shouted. Kara took Oliver from James, and James slithered on his stomach up into the elevator cab. Chavez grunted. “I’m out of ammo—”

“Then go!” screamed Noa. “All of you!”

Everything was a confusing blur of moving legs, intensifying gunfire, and another sound—a low roar. Engines. The Ark’s engines were starting. Noa gaped. Kenji had been wrong—about the mainframe, the elevator … and everything.

“Keep down!” Noa shouted into James’s ear as he began to stumble upright. Nodding, he kept to his hands and knees. Joining him, she turned to the door of the ship. The door was an archway of light. She saw bullets impacting into the wall just beyond the entrance. She scuttled forward, James was beside her … but then he slipped and crashed to his belly.

“James!” she shouted, grabbing him beneath the arm, preparing to drag him. But he got up a moment later, and they scurried into the Ark. “Down!” Noa said as soon as they were inside. Flinging herself over James’s shoulders, she pushed. His body gave way beneath hers and they flopped together on the floor with James cushioning Noa’s fall.

“They’re in!” Chavez shouted. She stood by the door, intermittently swinging around the door frame to fire a small pistol … a pistol that wouldn’t even be powerful enough to break the glass of the museum windows from where she was standing. Before Noa could shout at her to get out of the line of fire, the door slid closed. There was a sound like raindrops on a tin roof … it was the sound of bullets hitting the hull.

She took a deep breath that came out shakier than it should have, even after taking fire. Her thumb found the stumps of her fingers. Kenji’s betrayal was so fresh that it made her feel physically heavy. The fingers of her left hand curled—and she felt the absence of her ring and pinkie finger. Her breath quickened, as though she were starting to hyperventilate, and she felt like she might be sick. Noa forced herself to calm, bit her lip, and told her stomach to untwist from its knot. She could not break down. Not now. Sliding off James’s back, she rubbed her hand over his shoulder, not letting him go—to anchor herself, maybe, or to comfort both him and herself. He was warm, solid, and real beside her, his tattoos dark on his arms, but fading. He had been a perfect stranger, not Fleet or Luddeccean. She’d met him in the snows of the North, and he’d had no reason to save her, but did anyway, whereas her own flesh and blood had sent her to a prison camp—and would have again, claiming it was to save her. Her eyes briefly caught sight of Carl Sagan, standing upright on his four back legs, waving in the air, his nose twitching. James moved, and she turned toward him. His cheek was pressed to the floor, his shockingly blue eyes were on her. He wasn’t a stranger any more. They were bound as tightly as anyone she’d served with in the Fleet. Her mind instinctively reached for James’s, and she let loose a flurry of emotions—relief and gratitude, and shame for Kenji—but James wasn’t hard linked to her, and the emotions never crossed the empty air between them. There was no time to say all she felt. “Come on,” she said, heaving herself up. “It’s not over—” And then her eyes caught sight of crimson on the floor, smudged by her body.

“James?” she said.

He sat up, gingerly touching his side. His fingers came away bloody.

James stared at the crimson stain on his fingers. His shirt was wet, as was his knee.

“James!” Noa said again, alarm ringing in her voice.

“They have a sickbay,” he heard Chavez say. “Commander, I can take him there—”

“I’m fine,” James said. And he knew he was, without even touching the wound in his side. He’d felt a brief shock when it had hit him—a sensation of danger, and warning—but strangely no pain.

Noa put a hand on his shoulder. “James, you collapsed outside—”

“I slipped on the blood on the elevator floor,” he said, climbing to his feet. “But the wound is minor.” The wound in his side didn’t hurt at all. He was more annoyed by the relative chill of the Ark interior.

Tugging his arm, Noa said, “No, Chavez is taking you to medical—”

James could feel the thrum of the Ark’s engines beneath his feet, and heard the sound of bullets outside on the hull. Pulling her hand from his arm, James met her eyes. “I’m fine—courtesy of my augmentations.” He didn’t know that, but it was as good a hypothesis as any. “We don’t have time to argue—and you’re shorthanded as it is.”

At his words the thrum beneath his feet increased in intensity. Manuel’s voice cracked from a round circular grate in the wall. “Commander, I’m in sickbay, but on my way to engineering, Ghost is in command there—”

Ghost’s voice cracked over Manuel’s. “I’m working on the ground defenses. As soon as I get in, your darling brother is going to go to work getting me out.”

“Can he really shut off the ground defenses?” Chavez said. “Without ethernet access?”

James’s eyebrows rose. “He got us this far.” But how … it still nagged at James.

Noa touched a red button beneath the grate, as they’d all learned to do in Ghost’s lair. “Understood. On our way to the bridge.”

As she released the button, Chavez stared at the speaker. “This ship is so primitive. Maybe we can set up a local ethernet—”