His smile was sex and champagne, the kind of grin one would expect from something like this. Below that grin was a suit that had been tailored to reveal just enough to make one want to see more, without giving away too much of the surprise. He glanced through the crowded bar, sending his attention this way and that before dropping it back to focus on her.

Edina turned to her drink, hoping that the approaching stranger was not the one who had answered the ad. She had never done anything like this. Her nerves were getting the better of her, sending a slight tremble through her hands. Hopefully, the cold glass would steady things so she could speak without embarrassing herself. She bit down on her lip, another tactic from that one public speaking class she had taken in college. In a world of “swiping right” meet and greets, this was the dumbest idea ever.

Champagne Smile was near to the table, only to be intercepted by another preying upon the crowd. The waitress had too much woman stuffed into too little shirt and was using it to garner more tips from the bar’s patrons. His smile turned alchemical, transforming from alluring to shrewd.

“Drinking tonight, handsome?”

“Seems like if I am, this might be the place to do it.”

“What are ya having? Lots to choose from, but you really only remember the good stuff.” She winked at him, waving the low neckline.

His eyes never left hers. They were like grey gems that begged to be stared at. “Why don't we start simple. Scotch, neat. Here's something to start my tab.”

The waitress snatched the fifty-dollar bill like a bird on a worm. “Honey, that's not really how a tab works.” Biting the edge of her lip was the move of a seasoned pro.

“I know. But if I did everything the same as everyone else, I wouldn't be the good stuff.”

The waitress let the bite on her lip linger a moment longer before brushing the fifty across her neckline. She turned alluringly to plunge the bill into her apron on her way to the bartender. Leaning in, she gave anyone watching a hint that there was as much delight behind as there was in front. The two women shared a giggle fit to the splashing of drink orders being filled.

“Hopefully that won't become a thing.”

Edina's attention careened from the bar back to the champagne smile, hovering at her high-top table. When she first had taken the measure of the man, his eyes had seemed all sex appeal. Now, in front of her, she could see there was something else. Dad had been a helicopter crew chief in the war. He later decided to go full Warrant, becoming a pilot himself. She had seen that look. Although the newcomer was doing a good job at playing the normal guy, his eyes told a different story. One way or another, this guy would turn out to be trouble in a nice suit.

“Sorry. Waiting for someone.”

“And yet someone is here.” He said with a slight upturned palm.

“Look. I'm not here to get swooned or whatever it is you slick Ricks think you're going to do to a woman.”

“That's good, because I'm not here to slick you out of anything. Besides, you called me.”

He leaned into the table. His cologne was subtle. There was a hint of something sweet that caught her nose over the scent of spilled booze and those silly vapor cigarettes. While she had the urge to lean away from him, she couldn't help but remain still, allowing him close enough to speak in a low tone.

“Edina Barnes. Daughter of Nathan ‘Night Flight’ Barnes. I believe your safe word was 'Kiowa.'”

Edina froze. She had been hoping for something more dressed down, less likely to draw attention to a private meeting. His suit screamed expensive. Everything about the man was hand tailored, handpicked, or handmade. Expensive. She was dressed in a simple and neat top with a modest but not too modest skirt. She wanted to remain anonymous rather than draw everyone's attention like her guest. None of this made any sense. Now that she was in the middle of it, all she wanted was out.

“Oh. So you're—”

The waitress returned. “Scotch, neat. Is there anything else I can get ya?”

“Not yet.” He winked. “But please, keep an eye on me in case something comes up.”

The hinting frown on the waitress’s lips dropped out of sight, replaced by an eye-brightening twinkle.

“Won't be hard.” She said as she cast a disapproving nod to Edina, making her way back through the crowd.

“I'd really like to punch that woman in the tits.”

“Me too.” Said the smile dressed suit. He winked at Edina, trying to push the humor of the joke through.

She took another sip of her drink to calm her nerves. “So how does this work? Do we go somewhere more private? Do I just hand over a bunch of money and you do the rest?”

“Too quick. First, I know you, but you don't know me. Gabriel Bennett. It's very nice to meet you, Edina.”

He reached for her hand. To her surprise, she didn't pull it away. His grip was gentle but firm. She could feel the calluses in his palm, despite the hand sanitizer he used that most likely cost more than her car payment. There was an electricity to his touch she couldn't explain. Something about him seemed too perfect. Hell, everything about him seemed too perfect.

Manners beaten into her as a lifetime military brat brought her back to the present. “It's nice to meet you, too, Mr. Bennett.”

“Thank you,” he said, taking a sip of his scotch.

If Edina had to choose a word to describe Mr. Bennett, it would have to be “hyperattentive.” He never let his stare linger on one point for too long. Her dad used to do this. It was after he had gone through SERE school. Dad said it was always important to know where the exits in a room where, especially if they were also the only ways in. This Mr. Bennett seemed to have that same look. He signaled the annoying waitress to slither back to them.

“Another drink for the lady, please, and can you bring me that bottle of X, whatever. The vaguely yellow one.”

“Um, we don't sell it by the bottle, hon.” She feigned a small frown as if he had said something to upset her.

He handed her a hundred-dollar bill under the table, caressing it up her leg. He let his touch and his gaze linger, waiting for her smile to return.

“Can you do it for me?”

“I'll see what I can do,” she said, doing her best catwalk twirl back to the bar.

He returned his conversation to Edina's astonished face. “So before we get back to the business at hand, we have to address the little matter of your fan club.”

“My what?”

Edina was about to turn when Gabriel's grip became iron like. The sharp pain in her palm held her in place, keeping her from making the motion to look about.

“You need to seem like a woman on a date, Edina. No looking around and taking in the threat levels around you. Just look at me and let me do my thing. Did the two men sporting the cheap haircuts and poorly tailored suits come with you?

“What?”

“That's a no.”

Gabriel swished down the last of his scotch, closing his eyes to savor the full flavor. He set down the glass. He spun in time to intercept their waitress, Captain Cleavage, and her outstretched tray. He removed the bottle of orange liquor along with the second glass, depositing another hundred-dollar bill into her tip jar.

“Sweetie, I don't think you know how this tab thing works.”

“Oh, I do. My number's on the back of that one. Save it or spend it how you like. Now if you'll excuse me for a minute, I need another moment with my cousin.”

The waitress seemed to brighten at the word “cousin.” With a turn and a snatch of the new bill, she slithered back through the crowd with renewed vigor.

“Okay. You need to drink some of that. Your nerves are starting to show.”

“I'm not the girl you order around, Mr. Bennett.”

“No one is ordering, Ms. Barnes. Merely a suggestion. Things are about to get tense.”

Gabriel poured a shot from the bottle, swallowing it in a gulp. “Dear god, how do people drink this?”

He set the cap on the table, reaching into his jacket for something. Both hands and contents dipped out of sight. Either this was a magic trick in the making or his fidgeting was about to lead to trouble. Edina took in the measure of the bar, sure he would draw attention by doing whatever it was he was doing. To her surprise, everyone was so captivated by whatever was in their own corner of real estate that his hijinks were being ignored by everyone except the two men he had pointed out earlier.

“So. Not going to drink that?” He grabbed her refreshed drink and rushed it down. “Ahhh. Fruity. Not at all what I'm used to, but not bad.”

He stepped away from the table, lighting the handkerchief he stuffed into the top of the bottle. With a wry smile, he rolled it across the floor toward Edina's fan club.

“Make a hole!” he shouted.

Patrons moved aside, casting strange glances at the lit cloth burning down in the neck of the rolling bottle. People pointed and laughed, watching the ignited bowling pin roll into the gutter that was the booth currently occupied by the suspicious thugs. They cursed, trying to get out from behind their table to dodge the incoming fiery mayhem.

Edina and Gabriel were halfway across the floor through the ruckus of panicked patrons.

“Two coming out. Two possible in pursuit as well as fifty or so collateral. Targets are tagged.”

Edina looked confused. “Who are you talking to?”

With a pop-whoosh, the bottle cracked, spilling ignited liquor onto the floor in a brilliant blue flame. The patrons rushed to any manner of escape from the fire. The two thugs started speaking into their wrists. They hopped, punched, and pushed their way through the panicked crowd.

Gabriel led Edina through the front entrance, pausing just long enough to wink at Captain Cleavage on their way out. He rushed into the lot, stopping beside a lavish sports car parked under a surprised valet.

“This yours?” Edina asked.

“Nope. Although it would be cool if it were.”

A gaggle of startled barflies came rushing through the door. The bouncers backed off, allowing the swarm to work its way into the lot. One of her pursuers rushed through, pistol raised.

“Hey, handsome!” Gabriel called. When he had the man's attention, “One is clear, two at his five o'clock.”

The thug raised his pistol, causing Edina and half of the crowd to duck. Someone resembling a bull stuffed into a track suit grabbed the man's wrist. The bones in his arm snapped, spilling a small trickle of blood into the street next to the dropped gun. The broken enforcer looked to his attacker in time to watch the bull send a boot into his chest, knocking him into his partner.

The bull whipped his head back, freeing his eyes from a tangle of dreadlocks as he ran full speed toward the pair.

“Nice hit, RC!”

“You know it, brother. Hello, lil' missy. Hey, she gonna stay all ducked down like that, or can we get on the bounce before the po-po shows?”

Almost as if on cue, a van pushed its way through the lot, smashing bumpers on its way to a stop a few feet from the bull.

“My man!”

The side door of the blacked-out vehicle slid open, spilling out another fighter holding a short rifle. “Meter's running.”

Gabriel tried to hoist Edina to her feet but found her pulling back against his grip. He knelt down close to her.

“Life's all about chance. You can take a chance on us that we can help or take your chances with them. Either way, it has to be now.”

He found no resistance this time when he brought her to her feet and slid her into the van. She fell into a seat that had no right to be as comfortable as it was. Gabriel sat beside her, shielding her with his body.

RC shouted to his shooter friend. “Two o'clock you, carload of problems headed for us.”

The shooter raised the carbine to his shoulder, aiming it at the car of thugs trying to cut them off. He patted RC on the butt during his frantic squeeze into the truck.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious!”

A single trigger pull sent a round through the windshield of the punk-laden sedan. The driver's head exploded, spraying its contents about the car like a burst soda can. The punks either hung onto the car or dove away from it while the headless homeboy sent the vehicle careening into several cars.

The rifleman joined the rest of the crew, and the door slammed shut. The brutish van roared to life, springing forward with the voracity of a monster truck on Sunday-Sunday-Sunday. Barreling forward, the impact bars on the front pushed aside any parked cars in its way. It took one last swipe at the thugs by slamming the back of the driverless punkmobile, sending it sliding into a fire hydrant. The angry engine roared into the intersection, taking a turn that drifted it around the corner. The sound of the accelerator faded, replaced by police sirens.

“Anyone perforated back there?” asked the driver.

“Just the holes God gave us,” joked RC.

“Which god is that?”

“Same one that issued him his sense of humor,” Bennett snickered.

“Knock it off,” whispered the rifleman. “Miss Barnes? Are you hurt.”

His voice was quiet and soothing, like a grandpa and a favorite uncle wrapped into an action figure. Edina liked his voice. It was only then that she realized she was holding her breath.

“I'm okay. But I would really like to know who you are.”

“Well, you've met Gabe. The big guy is RC.”

RC winked while scooping his locks into a hair tie. “What's shakin', lil' missy?”

“What happened to the last hair tie?” Gabriel asked.

“Gave it to this smokin'-hot waitress with the tiniest shirt. Some dude just tipped her with a hundred with his number on the back. I wrote mine on her shirt!”

“Bastard,” Gabriel whispered.

“Our driver, Sasha.”

The driver adjusted her mirror. “Safety belt on, please. That goes double for you, RC.”

“Yes, ma'am,” the bull said as he hurried into his restraint.

“And my name is Caesar Duran. We caught your inquiry from the dating website. Sorry we had to go through so many channels, but we can't freely advertise on Facespace or MyBook. Hold on one sec. Sasha, is that the place?”

“Sure is, Cap.”

“Put us in, and button us up. Call Rover. Have him pull a three-sixty on the place.”

“No worries, Cap.”

Caesar returned his attention to Edina. “Just need a sec, and we can go over a few things.”

The van pulled into a warehouse. The door slid open as they approached, falling closed again once they were inside. The vehicle pulled into an assortment of crates, supporting a variety of hammocks, computer equipment, and cargo netting. A man in a set of wire-frame glasses adjusted them in their direction. Satisfied with his assessment, he unceremoniously dove back into his work.

Gabriel opened the van door, helping Edina out. He guided her through the minor maze of cargo boxes to their center, where the computer jockey continued to ignore them.

“Edina, this is Rover. Not much of a people person, but he's a whiz on a keyboard.”

“Hey” was the only response Rover gave them while he tapped over various screens.

Caesar came over to deposit folding chairs for everyone but RC, who brought his own. It was clearly sized for him or for removing an engine from an airplane. Edina couldn't tell.

“Miss Barnes. You called us. We came. We'd like to hear why you think you need our help.”

She chanced a sip from an offered water bottle. “The pilot community isn't very big. Us small-timers talk. Started hearing rumors of a bunch of mercs with morals, a crew out there staying under the radar, helping the little guy punch above their weight. Then a friend in border patrol, of all things, sends me a link for a dating website. Says his sister-in-law got in some real trouble over the border. You were there to help. They said you were—”

“Incredible?”

“Dashing?”

“Heroic?”

Caesar stopped the procession of self-aggrandizing. “Humble. Definitely humble. Now that we have that settled, Edina, please continue.”

“I don't know what else to do. Tonight proves it. When I've called the police or even the FBI, they've come out to investigate. Soon as the police hit the scene, things would go quiet. The long and short of it is this. My dad died two years ago and left his aviation business to us. It's real profitable. Four commuter helicopters and two small passenger planes.

“We donated some flight time to find a couple of lost hikers, and word of our business got out. We got in with some investors with new lines of cash. Things were starting to look up until my brother got into it with the wrong people. Rob's a good guy but has a thing for cards. Or rather, they have a way of peeling him from his money. A local cartel bought up his gambling debt and said that if he wanted to pay it off, he had to run some things over the border for them. He pulled a couple of jobs without me knowing, until he dumped a load of cargo over the mountains when he got word that customs wanted to check the bird upon landing. Rob went missing after that. These thugs have been hounding me since.”

“There's been no word at all from your brother?” Caesar asked.

“No. FBI and DEA have been looking with no luck. The insurance company has been knocking at my door every day, because he dropped out of sight with one of our planes. The cartel must have bought a cop or something. They come around and make threats, destroy our offices outside of the airport, and one time I came home to find my dog in a kennel outside of the house. Each time the cops say there's not enough evidence or some other crap excuse, and they get away with it.”

RC walked over to Rover. “You got a picture of the dog?”

Rover pointed to a screen. “Cute cattle dog mix. The thing loves to fly.”

“Dude. That pup got a headset and aviators on. Dude! You don't mess with nobody's dog like that. Yo, Caesar, man. We gotta take this.”

“Oh my god, are you on my social media?”

Rover nodded without looking up. “SOP, ma'am. Got to know everything about you before we first approach. Luckily, these social sites are the best investigative tool people voluntarily pour all their stuff into. You can't help yourselves.”

Caesar held up a hand. “Enough, you two. Ms. Barnes. What can we do for you?”

“I can always build another business. I can't build another brother. Can you find him and find a way to get these drug-running assholes off of my back? I can put the business up as collateral.”

“Won't be necessary. Gabriel?”

“I'm in, Cap.”

“Sash?”

“As long as I'm behind the stick or on the wheel, I'm in.”

“RC?”

“Dude. Doin' it for the doggos!”

“Rover?”

“I'm with RC. Doggos. My name is friggin’ Rover, for Christ’s sake.”

“Ms. Barnes. Seems we have an opening in our schedule. Unless that face Rover is making means we have an issue.”

Rover furiously worked over several keyboards without ever making eye contact with anyone in the room. “Oh, we are definitely helping Ms. Barnes. We'll teach them to mess with the doggos. The problem we have is someone tagged the van. Tiny little magnetic drone. Stupid thing pinged a cell tower not far from here. Signal squisher is active, so they won't have an exact location, but if they're using stuff like these drones, won't take them long to figure out where we are.”

Caesar strolled over to a crate and deposited the rifle into it. “All right. Saddle up. Gabriel. Get Ms. Barnes some protection and do your thing.”

“Should we explain the other thing to her?”

“I'm sure she'll figure it out. Rover, how long?”

“Got a couple of cars entering the business district, working a slow grid pattern. Couple of drones are also in the air. Business CCTVs in the area show people on foot with dogs. This cartel isn't playing. Would they go through all this trouble for a couple of pounds of drugs?”

Caesar was putting on some body armor. “They probably want the missing plane more than anything else. If the transponder and flight recorder hasn't been scrubbed, it shows drop sites that this gang is using. They might do a lot to keep that quiet.”

“Right on. Going to get things packed up here.” Rover said, shutting laptop screens and yanking cables. “You got this, Cap?”

“Don't I always? You and RC get Rover ready to go. ”

Caesar approached Edina. “This is going to sound strange, Ms. Barnes. But I need you to get undressed.”

The black suburban SUV rolled up to the corner of the parcel delivery service building, coming to a quiet stop. Men in black clothing, wearing plate carrier vests and toting rifles, exited the truck. A person in the back with a laptop worked the keys like a master pianist before power went out on the entire block. The screen of the PC went into blackout mode as the entire district was plunged into the dark.

One of the operators, a woman, went to the back of the truck to let out a dog. It was a mixed breed, stocky but with big ears and a pointed nose. Covered in scar tissue, it was wearing armor of its own. It enthusiastically dove its nose into an offered plastic bag. After sniffing about for a few moments, the dog began to pull toward a two-story warehouse to their front.

“Están cercano. Ese edificio allí.”

The leader of the group made a waving signal with his hand. The six-man crew moved in two by two, bounding overwatch. Their feet rolled rather than walked, making their movements smooth and nearly silent across the pavement. Four drones flew overhead, relaying tracking data to the team. They approached a shipping entrance beside a large overhead door.

The door crumpled as a pickup truck rammed into the street. Parts of the overhead door got crushed under the bumper, dragging behind it in a shower of sparks. The lead two of the tactical team dove out of the way of the errant sheet metal careening across the intersection.

The other four opened fire on the vehicle. Disabling shots zinged into the engine housing, tearing it apart. The engine began to choke, struggling to move the vehicle forward. The rear two shooters aimed through the back window of the cab, dumping a slew of rounds into the driver. The rev of the engine died away, and the truck lazily bumped its nose into a telephone pole.

The dog handler released her grip on the dog. “Stoba!”

The animal flew toward the truck with a purpose. Sitting outside the passenger side of the cab, he slammed his front paws on the door. Edina sat screaming while rocking back and forth. One reason was to get away from Gabriel, who was slumped over the wheel, missing most of his skull. The other was to put as much space as she could between her and the canine.

The handler flipped a switch on her wrist. Watching the whole affair through her night vision, she spoke into the watch on the same wrist. “Stonj.”

Thirty meters away, the dog quietly moved back several steps. A low growl seeped from the dog's meaty frame but not enough to stifle the words now coming from the collar around its neck.

“Come out of the vehicle and lie on your belly. You will not be harmed.” The voice that came through the digital interface was motherly yet firm, with an accent that spoke of foreign upbringing even if the English was near perfect. Whoever this woman was, she had done this before.

“You're going to kill me!” Edina yelled. “That dog will kill me!”

“The dog will not do anything unless I tell him to. Come out of the vehicle, or I will have him take you out.”

The door slowly opened. Edina stepped out of the cab with her hands held up. Her arms and legs bore cuts from the shattered glass of the back window being shot out. She was slightly hunched, not sure what to do as she moved from the truck. She got to her knees, breaking into a terrible sob when eye level with the massive dog. She lay face down on the pavement, her hands folding over the back of her neck.

“Kemnie.” The word snapped out of the collar, triggering the dog to bound away at a trot.

Four of the operators swooped to Edina. Her hands were zip tied behind her while her head was introduced to a near sound- and sight-proof hood. Before darkness descended on her senses, she heard the woman whisper.

“Do as we say and you will not be harmed. Resist and we will force you to do as we say. Nod if you understand.”

Edina motioned her head up and down with wracking sobs. She was ushered into the front of the SUV and strapped into the seat with a four-point harness. The rest of the operators scrambled back into the truck, followed by the canine, who took time to slam into Edina's seat on the way through.

Once loaded up, the vehicle rolled out of the industrial park. They eased onto the highway, merging into traffic like just another car on its way to anywhere.

With the engine fading into the distance, Gabriel's body twitched. His remaining eye opened, moving left and then right in an attempt to gauge his surroundings. He slipped a finger to his face to remove excess bits of gore in order to have a better field of view.

“Target painted and proceeding to objective. Am I clear to return?”

Gabriel remained motionless. After twenty seconds of silence, he responded to someone only he could hear.

“Understood. Countermeasures in three... two... one.”

Gabriel shot from the truck, the seat belt snapping hard into the door frame as he did so. The arms of his suit shredded as metal rods erupted from the meat. A humming buildup of power filled the air. The quiet in the street was palpable for a handful of heartbeats before four aerial drones smacked into the pavement, sending shards of their frames popping in all directions.

“Area secure for exfil.”

Gabriel walked toward the shredded overhead door of the warehouse. The tissue left visible beneath the remains of the suit melted back into a skeletal robotic frame. Each step furthered the transformation until the machine resembled a mannequin rather than something from a robot apocalypse horror flick. The robot checked the dismantled entrance, straightening what was left of the suit and possibly lamenting what seemed to be a lost cuff link. The Gabriel-bot stepped into the dark of the structure and disappeared.

The van drove into the hangar of Barn Stormer Aviation. Sliding to a halt, the side door flashed open, disgorging RC carrying two long hockey bags. Walking over to the Airbus-style helicopter, he dropped the two bags to the floor.

“You better get your narrow asses over here to help. We slim on time, and I can't roll this all myself.”

Caesar and Sasha came from the van, carrying more bags, to join their massive comrade. The trio set to their task, arranging a variety of tools and parts along the floor for easy access.

Among the noise, a slender figure slowly moved through the space. First darting from the office in the back of the expanse to the Jet Star–style plane secured to the smooth floor, the shadow moved with ingrained stealth. With only scant feet to go, it exploded into a run amid a chorus of “Whoa” and “Watch it” from the trio.

The dog darted into the van, causing happy tears to flood the calls of every loving dog owner to a, “good boy.” The trio stood for a moment, content to watch such a simple exchange. This was what love looked like. They should all be so lucky.

“Now that's a fine-lookin' animal ya got there, lil' missy,” RC said with a grin almost wider than his jaw could support. “What's his name?”

“Pappy.”

RC approached slowly and knelt. The dog immediately went into a protective pose over Edina as she sat on the floor of the van. It growled when he closed the distance, breaking into a plaintive whine the closer he got. Periodic barks signaled he was more than distressed as the enormous man dropped to a knee. RC produced something from his pocket, causing a bark-stopping head tilt.

“I gotta eat constantly to keep my strength up. This is special jerky that Caesar cooks up for me. All natural and dried. Everything a good boy needs.”

He took a small piece and laid it on the step of the van. Pappy snatched the meat after a cursory sniff, the very tip of his tail wagging in the hope that this was a good thing. After the third such snatch, Pappy and RC were rolling in the back of the van, playing like old friends. Amid the approving nods from the rest of the group, Edina’s eyes went wide, followed by a gasp caused by a quick glance under his shirt.

Caesar broke the silence that followed. “We told you just before this all went down. You're going to see some things. The only thing we want is to help you. You have nothing to fear from us. Understood?”

Edina agreed as she watched Pappy lick RC's face to bribe him for another piece of the homemade jerky. This was all unreal. How could anyone wrap their head around something like this? She pushed out a cleansing breath, steeped in the thought about the one thing she could be certain of in all of this: Pappy was the best judge of character she had ever seen.

“Understood. Just going to take me a minute not to have all the oohs and aahs.”

Sasha was unwinding what looked like a power line as she walked over to a high-voltage outlet. “We feel the same way about cheeseburgers.”

“Now that's pure magic right there,” RC replied.

“All right, you two. Let's get to it,” Caesar said with a grin.

He saluted past the van, holding up what looked like a blowtorch with no cable or attachment. He placed a cigar in his mouth, lighting it with the torch. The flame that popped out was like a cross between a traditional acetylene torch and an arc welder.

Edina looked away from the miracle device to see a small SUV pull into the hangar. Rover exited with a smile along with four of the Gabriel- bots, each carrying a long, hard plastic case. They set up workstations while RC caught an offered torch from Caesar. A bevy of holograms sprang to life around the geeky controller, showing a combination of views from the bots as well as schematics for the helicopter they were working on.

“Is all this going to come off? I mean, these things aren't cheap. Can I use my chopper after this is all over?”

RC lifted a piece of fuzzy-looking plastic before affixing it to a rotor. He applied strange tape to the fixture. It bubbled and hissed like a cold solder to hold the contraption in place.

“You are about to have the coolest bird this side of your or any military. After we're done, you could probably sell it for a bucketload.”

“Or we could come back later and help her get as close to original as possible so she doesn't end up in military custody over at Fifty-One.”

The mention of the number made the rest of the group queasy.

“Man, screw that place. And Beachum too. Hope that guy gets eaten by something nasty.”

“Didn't we put him on that little dinghy in the middle of a school of hammerheads in Panama that one time?”

Caesar smiled, puffing out smoke rings like a pro. “That was fun. Love seeing that want-to-be prick squirm.”

“Is that why you guys only contract through back channels?” Edina asked. “The military's hunting you? Did you steal all this tech? Is this like, next generation?”

“It's a little more complex than that,” Rover said, adjusting his glasses. The man had the nature of a science professor who was tired of explaining things to a dumb batch of students. “We didn't steal it; it's ours. They tried to steal it from us. And when we told them we were not about to tolerate that, we put a hurting on them, as RC would say.” Rover shared a thumbs-up with the giant, who was welding something onto the helicopter frame.

“This is all so amazing. How am I ever going to pay you for all of this?”

Caesar tipped his cigar from the cockpit of the copter, nearly hanging upside down beside the cyclic controls. “We don't deal in cash most of the time. Favors are far more valuable. Besides, whole damn crew has a thing for dogs. You let them cuddle with Pappy for a few minutes over a beer, these folks would run down to the gates of hell and arm wrestle the devil to get you back.”

“True story,” Rover responded.

“Only thing we won't do is tight spaces,” RC called over his shoulder as he welded.

Rover smirked. “What about that one time in Manila?”

“Totally different, bro. You guys drugged me to get me in that casket.”

“That thing was practically a shipping container, and it was built to be a luxury living space for two weeks. Not my fault you have an irrational fear.”

“Dude! Have you seen me?”

RC killed the power to the torch, freeing him to raise his welding mask and unzip his track suit jacket. Cries of, “No, no, no!” and “Whoa!” burst from the rest of the group. Edina watched in rapt attention. She figured this was something he had done frequently, and their objection was part of the joke. She had noticed extreme amounts of scarred muscle under his shirt earlier. While she didn't want to be rude, she was curious.

The shirt fell away to reveal a second set of arms under the first. He flexed like two body builders stacked on top of each other, grunting as if he was about to win the Mr. Universe contest. Edina stopped in mid-pat of Pappy's head. The only surprise in the dog seemed to be that she had stopped giving him the attention he deserved for being a dog of infinite personality. Edina's breaths came in shallow puffs as she struggled to wrap her mind around what she was seeing.

“What?” RC said as realization dawned on him. “Oh!”

He turned just in time to see Edina pass out, sliding from the van to the floor.

“Nice work, RC,” Rover stated. “Now, instead of being cutting-edge tech gurus on the run from the government, what is it you would like us to tell her?”

“The truth?”

“Like that's going to fly.”

Hey, bro. Lady has a flying dog. She can handle it.”

“The lady has a dog that rides in her helicopter. There's a difference.”

Caesar made his disapproval known with a waggling head and a few tsk-tsk noises. He bent to retrieve RC's jacket. “Next time you need to stretch, do it someplace private, like the bathroom.”

“No can do, Cap. Tight space.”

“Funny,” Caesar said. “For someone who doesn't like tight spaces, you sure do put us in a lot of them.”

“On that note, I'll get the smelling salts,” Sasha said.

The hood popped off of Edina's face. The man in front of her smelled of spicy meat and nicotine. He was wearing a black T-shirt, fatigue pants, and a pistol belt. He pulled a chair from somewhere deeper in the dark room, settling it in front of her.

“Would you like some water, Ms. Barnes?”

Edina remained silent.

“Okay. This is really a very easy thing, Ms. Barnes. Rob did a stupid thing. He dumped our product someplace, and now we can't find it. Then, instead of coming clean about this, he ran. I need two things from you. I need the location of the plane so we can scrub the recorder. I also need you to be a good sister.”

Edina looked around the room. The walls were adobe, with various farming and gardening tools set on shelves along one wall. There was one entrance fit with a garage door. Four men, including her interrogator, paced. A small window on two walls was letting just enough moonlight in to cast shadows around the light of a lantern in the center. From one of those shadows, her brother was rolled beside the now-empty chair in front of her. Edina gasped and struggled to get free, calling her brother's name.

“Don't worry. He's okay. We gave him a sedative. See, here's the thing. The only thing keeping him alive is that he won't tell us where the plane is. Oh, we've tried to get it out of him, but he's a tough customer. He said repeatedly if he told us, we'd kill him. If he had just come clean in the beginning, we could have worked something out. But now?”

He sat next to her brother, sliding the pistol from its holster. He took a handful of hair, pulling his head back to place the pistol against Rob's head.

“No!”

The man pursed his lips. “Good. You want your brother to live. That's good. My boss can be a forgiving man. I can make you a deal. You either tell me where the plane is or help me find it, and I will let your brother live. I will punish him in some way for him being a stupid, stubborn punk, but he'll live. You both will be dropped off at the American embassy, and you can go home with a story to tell. You can go back to flying your clients around. We never have to meet again. We have a deal?”

Edina’s face went from looking like that of a broken woman to a poker-faced hustler that would make any Vegas champion card player proud. “Sounds like a good deal, but now it’s my turn. You untie us and let us walk out. All of you get to live today. You don't do as I ask, and you get to watch as I tear apart your men. The last thing I'll do before I leave is hunt you down and drink your blood.”

Her captor blinked in surprise. After a lengthy “um,” he translated her demands back into Spanish for his friends. They all laughed, slapping their knees and surmising the heat of the hood had cooked her brain into thinking she was a chupacabra.

The interrogator took the gun from her brother and placed the barrel on her forehead. “Let's see what you got, goat sucker.”

There wasn't a word for the level of fast that Edina achieved in moving her head before the interrogator pulled the trigger. She didn't even seem fazed by the sound of the pistol going off. The chair hopped off the ground, flipping in place. The cheap aluminum legs raked along the talker's face, coming to rest in his crotch. The men behind him rushed to contain the threat, only to be stabbed inside of their legs by the unrestrained woman wielding broken chair parts. Blood sprayed across the room as she rose to meet the final man.

He had his pistol out. His first shot narrowly missed her head, striking the wall beside her. His next aimed center mass to take advantage of the bigger target. She bladed out of the way, using the better reach of this position to smack the pistol out of his hand with the broken chair arm. A quick turn with a kick to the opposite shin caused him to reach for his wounded leg. His head collided with an upturned chair part, severing his carotid artery. She dropped the rest of the rope binding the broken chair to her and watched the interrogator run out, one hand reaching for a cell phone while the other held his damaged crotch.

A radio signal popped in her ear. “Chupacabra, eh? New name for you?”

“I have so many. What's one more? Although... I don't know if I want to be called a goat sucker.”

“The place is alerted to your presence, Gabby. Sitrep?”

“I got the brother, Cap. But this little mud hut is nothing. If they bring real guns, they're going to mow me down.”

“Get to the outside wall. Care package in three... two...”

The ceiling of the small shed exploded, raining debris into the structure. RC stood in all of his glory. He was massive, wearing a full set of body armor, complete with a mask that would make a special operator from any country drool with envy. He was carrying a carbine rifle with a mounted grenade launcher beneath.

“Took you long enough.”

“Yo, man. Don't hate the guy bearing gifts!”

RC handed a small bag to Edina. She threw it on top of a riding lawn mower as she began to strip out of her clothes. Bones cracked and reshaped. Her body lengthened, adding a different muscle dynamic. Her body assumed a new shape, changing from female to male. Pants, T-shirt, armor, and weapons were equipped as the change settled. A mask matching RC's was the final touch.

“Nice to have you back, Gabriel.”

“Thanks, Big Guy. Did Rover's androids do my death scene justice?”

“Epic.”

“How's the kid?”

RC was shoving the man into what appeared to be a neoprene bag. When he was fully enclosed up to the neck, RC hit a button on his watch. The bag constricted until it became a tightly fitting leotard. Parts of the clothing hardened into thin plates as RC pulled a hood over Rob's head.

“He's on some serious smack. I'll carry him. Cap thought we could use this.”

Gabriel grabbed the device and strapped it to the front of the riding lawn mower. He took a carbine similar to RC's to lay on the hood of the vehicle. When he activated the device, a screen made up of translucent hexes created a shimmering concave wall.

“I love my job.”

“Kick it!” RC roared.

They drove the tractor through the door of the shed, knocking it down in a spray of dust and grasses. They were on the estate of one of the cartel leaders. Gorgeous villas dominated a landscape of gardens set in mountainous terrain. Men already positioned on the walls of the mansion opened fire on the interlopers. Rounds impacted the energy shield as the trio sauntered behind it.

“Gimme something indirect on my one o'clock.”

RC angled the rifle, lobbing a grenade with a whoomp sound. It landed beside a trio of cartel soldiers trying to get a better angle by moving through one of the low gardens. The grenade hit the ground, bouncing into the air at waist height. It went off in a series of laser beams that seared plants, severed trees, and cut the men in half.

One of the thugs fired his own rifle grenade in hopes of getting payback for his decimated brothers. The thing sailed on a clear path to come down on the trio's heads. Gabriel pressed a button to shift the energy field so the grenade bounced off like a ball on an umbrella, landing in the same low garden decimated by the lasers. It went off, sending plant and person matter flying in multiple directions, painting the villa walls in ghastly colors.

“Yo! Now we can't move unless we shut off the emitter. We'll get torn to pieces!"

Gabriel grunted. “Yeah, I know. Look for a way back. Maybe we can use the shield as partial cover.”

Firing from behind the safety of the energy wall, RC noticed a small alley they might be able to sneak down.

“Cap. We are going to exit at our nine o'clock, moving to the outer south east wall. Can you circle back around to cut some of these mooks off?”

There was an audible pop in their earpieces, signaling the boys to get a move on.

“Hold my rifle,” RC said as he slugged it into the man’s gut.

“Thanks.”

RC reached over to the shield emitter and set it to overload. Convinced that he had it set for just the right time, he reached down to the mower, lifting it above his head. The whirling blades of the running machine acted as a fan, blowing his dreadlocks back. He was careful to position the thing so that the shield continued to cover them but not so close that the mower blades would test how much his face armor could take. They backed into the side alley between the shed and the villa. RC dropped the tractor, holding onto the steering wheel to rip it off. He kicked down the accelerator, grinding his heel into it to bend it in place. The two took off toward the outer wall as their attackers sprayed a torrent of bullets while trying to get around the tractor.

The emitter detonated in a spectacular plume of white and blue fire. Rubble flew in all directions along with the charred remains of their pursuers. Fleeing down the alley, they caught sight of a soldier stalking for something to shoot.

“On it.”

Gabriel sprinted forward, too quick for the sentry to raise his rifle in time. He jumped, impacting the man in the solar plexus with his knee before knocking him into the wall. The impact cracked the armor as he bent to hold his chest. Holding the other rifle, Gabriel spun on his heel, putting them back to back. He used the sling like a backpack strap to flip his opponent into the other wall. The wet crack of body on brick signaled that the sentry's shift was most likely over for the night.

RC and Gabriel crept along the wall for a few more yards. They got to the back of a guest house overlooking a pool. There was an indicator on the heads-up display from their masks that they were in the right spot for extraction.

“Last stand.”

“You know it, lil' bro. Blow and stow?"

“Do it.”

RC took three grenades from his vest and pulled the pins with his free hand. Gabriel counted to two before doing the same. Gabriel's grenades chased RC's into the pool. A brilliant geyser washed the sky as the first weapons detonated. The last grenades went off a beat later, freezing the water in place.

They stalked behind the ice wall into the glass front of the guest house.

“ETA till pickup?” Gabriel asked into the radio.

“First wave coming in,” RC growled.

Placing Rob on the ground behind an overturned table, the two took positions in the guest house. They moved from spot to spot, firing at incoming hostiles while dodging enemy fire. One soldier snuck between the wall and the house, creeping in undetected. A round punched RC in the back. It fragmented on his armor, falling to the floor in tinkling splinters of slag.

“Really, dude?”

RC grabbed him in two of his arms. When awareness struck the man, all he could do was scream. RC used him like a shield to get better vantage points on the incoming attackers. Two mag changes later, the boys were getting nervous.

“What, is the whole freaking country armed and on the payroll?”

“Hope Cap brings snacks when he comes!”

“How can you think of food at a time like this?”

Small puddles dotted the floor around them as the ice shield became increasingly chipped from direct fire. A small groan drew their attention behind them.

“Do not let that dude wake up!”

Gabriel punched the kid in the face, knocking him back into whatever stage of unconsciousness he had just emerged from.

A wave of force shattered the ice wall, sending shards like projectiles in all directions. RC and Gabriel landed on Rob to protect him from the onslaught. Soldiers in every direction were thrown from their footing like roof tiles caught in a tornado. When the surge ended, Gabriel and RC were the only ones moving. As they shared a knowing glance, the back of the guest house blew out, sending more carnage flying in all directions.

“Get a move on!”

They burst from the house through a newly formed exit in the outer wall of the estate. A helicopter out of a fevered dream waited some fifty yards away. It was black and angular, with strange fiber armor plates with angular bolt-on sections to break its profile. The blades were nearly silent, like a soft breath into a lover's ear. Caesar was on the edge of the open side door, rifle in hand, pointing it at the exposed wall.

“Nice one with the force grenade,” Gabriel said as he leapt into the bird.

Edina—the real one—looked back from the pilot's compartment to see the mercenaries pass her brother in. Returning her attention to the cockpit window, she shouted to the back.

“Not good! Your seven o'clock!”

Caesar saw the man on the roof take aim with the RPG. He would never make the shot at this angle against the rotor wash. Removing his mask, he stared at the man. Distance and time faded away. He could feel the frustration, fear, and fervor of a man protecting what he had earned while looking for a place higher up. The soldier nodded to the helicopter, turning the RPG on the main house. The rocket streaked into the compound, ending in an explosion of glass, brick, and bodies. He threw down the launcher to dive headfirst from the wall.

Caesar replaced his mask. “Show's over. Let's boogie before we get more spectators.”

The bird lifted off, silently stalking away from the carnage.

So what are you going to tell him?”

“Dad's Special Forces buddies, blah blah, don't do shit like this again, blah blah.”

Caesar nodded as he relit his cigar. The two watched RC, Gabriel, and Sasha play keep-away from Pappy. Pappy was winning but could be coaxed into snuggle time to give up the frisbee.

“If we call you for help, you have to say yes. That's the price for us helping you.”

“I know. I figured. My shop is yours whenever you need it.”

“Thank you. And our secret?”

“An alien para-rescue team is sent to Earth to recover a downed scientist. They are intercepted by the government, which captures them for their tech. A prisoner on trial for a murder he didn't commit is experimented on using the alien mojo, becomes their leader, and helps them escape. In between trying to find the scientist the original team leader was sent for, you convinced the aliens to use their skills to help people to gain favors to help you find the scientist. If you get into trouble and the world is on fire, and if you can find them, you can call on Delta-51. Miss anything?”

Gabriel walked over to the two sitting by the cooler. He tossed the frisbee to Rob, who ran away from Pappy. He reached over to grab another beer.

“Only that it was a damn shame.”

Edina put her hand over her eyes to block the sun. “You mean the tragic loss of life?”

“No. That lawn. The gardens. That villa! Gorgeous estate. Tragic we had to mess it up. Hey, Cap, think we can get it on sale?”

“And another thing! I will double the price on their heads if you bring me back the recorder from that plane!”

A soldier walked up to the cartel chief and whispered something in his ear. He waved his hands back and forth until the mob of killers in his ruined living room parted to show the men standing just inside the entrance.

“CIA got a lot of nerve coming here. Now. Today!”

“Not CIA, sir. My name is Director Beachum. Maybe we can help each other.”

The colossal, black ship drifted. Sleeping, waiting, hungering – it pulled toward a distant source of energy. For a construct so large, the spaces within were seemingly devoid of life. Expansive, metal-walled domiciles filled with items taken from endless conquest sat dormant. Barely perceivable blackish mists hovered in each room.

In the hundreds of thousands of spaces, only one contained a living, breathing being. It was here they kept it. Their Reaper. The destroyer of countless systems.

She alone was awake, barely. The tubes running down her throat pumped sustenance into her at a slow interval. Never enough to satisfy. Just enough to keep her alive.

She sensed it first. Her back to the damp floor, her body emaciated, she felt the tingle. It was as if energy, life itself, was brushing against her skin. She thrashed, and the burning chains restraining her rattled. Souls. Countless souls. She could feel them, and she could feel her sword calling to her, from within.

Reaper. Destroyer of Systems. Feeder of the Sliv. Prepare, it whispered to her, deep within her mind. Your freedom is at hand. Usher in the future.

For a moment, she smiled. Could they have found freedom? Would she finally be able to live a semi-normal existence? She would know, soon. But first she would have to suffer. This was their way.

She welcomed the reunification ritual. She feared it as well. Thatched metal holes dotting the walls began dumped fluid down upon her. The chains fastened to her body tightened, crushing her flat to the deck. Roaring in defiance of her fear, she choked as it splashed down her throat. Sound became muted. The fluid filled her lungs. Feelings faded, as did the light within her.

At the center of the ship, the Elders continued their slumber. Their chambers formed a wheel, which slowly revolved around the Sliv – a blazing mass of multi-colored energy, powered by harvested souls.

Each of the Elder’s quarters were linked into the Sliv. It fed them, and it fed the ship. If hibernation extended beyond supply, their crew would be next to fuel their sleep.

Slumbering inside that ever-rotating wheel, Elstair shivered. He was slow to wake. Unlike the Lessers, who lacked the strength to find a solid form, he was not starving. The roar of the Reaper had woken him. If she was awake, it was time.

Elstair began to materialize from a silky cloud of black. It was a thing of grace and beauty. Tendrils formed from the translucent fog and danced, merging together. Like the interlocking fingers of long-separated lovers, it was an instinctual movement. Formlessness became form.

It took him moments to find a shape that pleased him. Bipedal, slender, tall, and void-black, the form he chose was a conglomeration of his own memories. He opened his senses and reached out to the collective. The Lessers were starving. With not enough strength to find form, they suffered in abstraction. Telepathically, he spoke to them, merging the lower half of his body into hull of the vessel to spread his message.

Stop struggling, he thought. I understand you are hungry. Renewal approaches.

Before he could continue, the collective responded. Thousands of pleas unified into one simple statement.

Feed us.

Elstair understood their hunger. Flowing like water through the veins and arteries of the ship, he approached the Sliv. As the Eldest, he was the only one who could access the fount of power directly. The lamentation of imprisoned souls cried out, as he approached.

Elstair connected with the ship and had it open the feeding siphons. The spherical housing unit of the Sliv popped open fleshy apertures, and energies were ripped from within the cluster. Blinding lights of many colors flowed outward, as the condemned were distributed throughout the ship.

The wailing and screaming of his kind paused. Hunger was being abated throughout the ship. The metal, sinew, and fibers that comprised the vessel relaxed. There was calm.

Not one to deprive himself, Elstair let his body drift toward the Sliv. Slowly, he passed through layers upon layers of flesh and metal containment. Only his form, that of the Eldest, could make this journey to center.

Passing through the final layer, like smoke through a screen, Elstair ingested the drama before him. The beauty of it. The lightshow of radiant souls bound together like parasites feasting on rotten flesh. Trapped between this plane of existence and the next, they writhed. Afloat in an ether.

Drifting, still formless, he let his body mingle near them. Streaks of red and blue raced past, darting away. They fled from him, fearing the void his body represented. Reaching out with wispy tentacles, he snatched a purple soul from in front of him. It was larger than the others, twisting like a glowing worm. Obviously, it belonged to a being of great power. He toyed with it. It twisted away, stretching to escape. Elstair inhaled.

He felt euphoria, as purple heat was consumed by his void-black body. The light the soul emitted flickered away into nonexistence, consumed by the Void. He grew larger and stronger. Pure, unrefined power was his. And now, it was time to get more. It was time to summon the Reaper. It was time to refill the Sliv.

“Sleep,” he whispered.

The ship sensed him and relayed his message throughout its body. His voice became a telepathic temptation too sweet to resist. He needed the Lessers to hibernate. The Sliv would need to be depleted for it to be refilled. A gamble, for sure. But one that had never failed him.

“Assemble the Elders,” he said, as he drifted back out of the Sliv chamber. “Prepare my Reaper.”

It was time for him to play shepherd to the beast. Like a fast-moving bank of fog, he glided toward the primary causeway. His destination was the sanctum. Filtering through the bulkhead, his cloud-like body found form and began walking.

Taking long, sweeping steps, he chuckled. There was a time when they did have physical bodies. These causeways and passageways were a constant reminder of that. But bodies, like ships, degrade. They must be improved or abandoned completely. Anything was better than submitting to the Void in hopes of a rebirth.

The elder sanctum he approached was a farce. A mockery meant for the grand illusion. The pacification of his beast required showmanship and cunning. It was the perfect manipulation. It was also how Elstair had existed so long.

Huge pillars framed the sanctum, sweeping upward. They disappeared into the darkness above. Gears and gizmos embedded into them rotated and turned, belching out smoke and steam. A plain stone table sat centered in the oblong space. Shiny cream-colored stone covered the floor. Bits of twisting black sinew from the ships body poked up through the cracks, much like the roots of a repugnant tree. The other Elders were assembled around the table, waiting. A white light hovered above them, casting harsh shadows below.

Eldest, a spherical body said, telepathically. The simple black orb floated at the right of the table.

“The time has come,” Elstair said. The voice he used was a common tongue from an ancient race. He jovially walked down the stairs toward the table. “The Sliv shall refresh, and so shall we!”

“The Sliv refreshes us all,” the Elders repeated in unison.

Elstair bounded around the table, enjoying the sight of the others. They had all chosen such unique forms. A treat, to be sure. There was a tentacle beast of some sort. A dripping slimy blob. He didn’t even remember that species. And, naturally, the next Elder in line to his position – Epoch – had chosen the form of an orb. Always the pragmatist, never the imaginative.

“Epoch, I suppose you have something to say?” said Elstair. “Before you leave unceremoniously, as usual?”

There was no motion from Epoch. His voice rang out telepathically.

How much longer shall we do this?

“Survive?” said Elstair. “Until there is nothing left to consume, I suppose.”

This game you play with the Sliv, it will be our undoing. Look what it has done to us. We should find a new source of power or submit to the Void. This cannot sustain.

Elstair’s form exploded into a smoky, terrible fog. The table and the others became as toys beneath a dark blanket.

“I am the Eldest! I am the keeper and creator of our ways. We will endure, as we always have.”

The forms of the Elders at the table collapsed into black mist. A show of respect and fear. All except Enoch. His form, a perfect sphere, held fast.

You would expend all the Sliv’s cursed energy to fuel your weapon and your perverse desires. What if she refuses? What if she remembers what she is? What then? Why delay the inevitable?

“The Reaper has never failed,” replied Elstair. His body folded back into itself, finding shape. “Does anyone else wish to join the Void? Do you really think we’ll be reborn?”

The others at the table remained as mist. Epoch did not falter. His shiny, black, spherical shape did not even reveal ripples or movement. Epoch’s voice projected audibly and telepathically, echoing almost.

A plan with no counterplan, despite past successes, is doomed to eventual failure. I just hope I’m not around when it happens. I wish to meet the Void by myself.

Enoch vanished from sight. His form did not dissolve or retreat. It was simply gone. It was a trick Elstair had not seen before. He was curious how his brother had done this, but the time for questions would come later. For now, he needed to prepare.

“Now, that is settled,” he said. “Everyone, proper forms. Summon my Reaper.”

The elders around the table churned and twisted into pale-skinned bipedal creatures. Like that of the Reaper’s species. They began to moan and wail, their skin began to show festering lesions.

Elstair shifted quickly. The form he chose had a bent body, ravaged by age. Long, stringy grey hair and harsh lines covered its face. He hobbled forward, as boils sprouted along his brow.

His walk was slow. Each step a shuffle. On cue, Lessers streamed into the room. Throwing themselves down upon the floor, their forms shifted to look like his. Only they were smaller and more youthful. This dance, this scene, had been perfected over countless systems.

He felt the Reaper’s presence before he saw her. She radiated energy. At the far end of the room, beyond the reach of the solitary light, he heard her walk forward. Each step a solid blow to the stone beneath her. Glancing toward her approach, he could see her glowing blue eyes piercing the darkness.

He shuddered as she stepped into the cone of light. Fed with Conflux energy, she was now seven feet of toned muscle and strength. Ghostly pale skin was dotted by freckles. They ran like a cluster of stars across her nose and cheeks, and her face was framed by auburn hair. Much like the rest of her annihilated planet’s inhabitants, she was pleasing to behold. She wore the trinket around her neck. The one he gave her when she was a tiny creature.

Her voice was melodic and pure, but powerful. “What is required?”

Elstair did not smile, though the elation of the pending manipulation filled him to bursting.

“Another plague planet has attacked us. Look! Look at what they have done.” Elstair’s bony, twisted fingers pointed toward the scene around them.

She strode past him to inspect the sick and dying. Elstair’s body quivered as her aura slid past him. She contained so much power. The armor she wore was a stark contrast to the ship. It encased her in opal colored plates, formed from her own energies. Despite her ability to conjure weapons and armor, it was her ability to harness and trap power that made her essential. He followed a few paces behind her, as she took in the spectacle.

He waited, patiently. And it happened. Her shoulders dropped, ever so slightly. As they always did. This was his moment to say the words.

“Once you annihilate the plague carriers across the systems, these attacks will cease,” he said, reciting the same words but to a different flavor. “It is your immunity they fear, and the hope our species presents. For this, they will hunt us always. At least, until you purge their filth from the cosmos.”

Painfully bright light extended from her back. The glowing outline revealed her wings. She turned around abruptly, staring him down with blazing eyes. Elstair braced, she had never reacted in this way.

“Why not let the Void take me?” she said. The power of her voice pushed him backwards, nearly causing his form to fail. “I am the source of this constant assault. All I bring is death and disaster. Even chained and starved, our enemies still sense my cursed presence.”

Luminescent white fluid streamed down her cheeks, splashing to the stone below.

Elstair felt something. Fear? It was an emotion he’d not felt since the formation of the Sliv. He’d never encountered this line of dialogue before. This was all unscripted. He watched another curious drop of fluid fall from her cheek and splash to the floor. Had his Reaper become defective?

“No, you bring us hope,” he replied, finally. “For that, you are our savior. Go, be our sword and vengeance. Cleanse the planet, harness the power to heal us, and usher in an era of prosperity for our kind.”

A flash of fire erupted from her hand as a sword appeared in it. The blade hummed with devastating power. This weapon was linked to her and was formed by her Will. The heat from the sword burned his form, causing him to recoil. During the reunification ritual, he had the ship trap nearly all the souls from the Sliv within her, and now they resided in the blade.

“I will go,” she said. “Tell the others that the Reaper shall bring forth vengeance.”

Elstair fell to his knees when she launched herself skyward. Her white, glowing wings spread out over the room, filling it with light. The force of her sudden ascent caused his form to fail, for a moment. In a blur of white, blue, and purple, she launched herself away at speeds seemingly impossible.

Elstair laughed as she disappeared down the causeway. His form collapsed into itself and rolled about in billows of fog. It had worked, again. This was their way.

She encased her head in protective crystal as she rocketed away from the ship. The helmet was rudimentary, but it had always worked. Her wings steadied her, and she exerted energy to push herself through space. Her sword led her movement, pointing like a compass needle toward their destination. She stopped for a moment to look at the ship. It was her home for as long as she had memory.

The vessel, once proud, looked sickly. It was covered in gnarled clusters of black growth. She held back tears. The plague systems were a blight on everything they touched. There was a flash of movement. She blinked, trying to focus on the source. Her sword shook in her hand, likely in anticipation.

They will pay for what they have done, she thought.

Her eyes moved from the vessel and turned outward. This system was a beautiful one. Hard to believe something so sinister could dwell amongst the spiraling cluster. A tiny system, with an equally tiny planet and star was her destination. How could so much energy be contained in something so small? Rapid acceleration blurred her vision.

She could feel the source of power calling to her. A miniscule blue speck in the distance grew larger. Stretching her Will to her sword, Trindal, she connected with it.

Let us do this quickly, old friend. Pick a landmass and aim for its center. We will relieve the plague carriers of their life force and trap it within you, before they know what has happened.

Trindal vibrated erratically in her hand but did not reply. Something was wrong.

She squinted. This consumed energy contained in the blade to enhance her sight. Looking beyond the natural, she gasped. The planet was afire with light. There were more souls and energies than she had ever seen, especially given the smallness of the sphere. Many were not contained in shells and floated aimlessly around the ball.

This planet is absolutely teeming with energy, Trindal said, from within in her mind. How does it sustain? Look at the colors!

She frowned. This was not a question Trindal had ever presented.

It is not our place to ask questions, she asserted. We will cleanse the planet, heal our brethren, and bring them here. Maybe this could be our home?

The blue dot was much larger now. There was a kaleidoscope of different colored energies, swarming around it. Her glowing eyes widened in wonder. Trindal jerked hard, nearly ripping from her grip.

“What are you doing?” she said. Abandoning her mental connection, she screamed the words into the nothing. Her teeth smashed together as her hands enclosed tightly around her wayward companion.

There was no response, only impact. A tiny craft with rectangular sails on its side exploded against her body. Knocked off course, she began an uncontrolled spiral. This had never happened before.

Her approach toward the blue and green planet was now at an extreme angle. Flames erupted around her as she skidded along some sort of invisible barrier. She screamed, her frustration besting her. Twirling, her wings closed around her, an unseen force squeezed her body. It felt like an invisible hand was gripping her.

Her view of the surface somersaulted. The planet was covered in blue, and she feared what that might be. There was no time to correct.

That was a preview of Contact This!. To read the rest purchase the book.

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