Episode 19 - Freedom One

Freedom One, the Voice of the East Coast Resistance, calls the leaders of the five major Resistance groups together to unite them into a single army to fight Dread. However, what seems to be a dream come true turns into a nightmare when the groups are betrayed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction based on the television series,Captain Power and the Soldiers of the Future. It is not intended to infringe on the copyrights of Landmark Entertainment Corporation or anyone else who may have legal rights to the characters and settings. I don't own the characters. However, I am putting them into an adventure since the show was cancelled and the writers/producers/directors/actors can’t put them into any new adventures.

 

 

One Week After Blastarr’s Birth

Clearbarrow Settlement

Midnight

 

Debris was scattered over the battlefield. Broken chunks of metal, destroyed transports, burnt buildings, shattered biomechs, deceased Dread soldiers and civilians -- so much of the remains were twisted, torn, and unidentifiable. The night winds blew the smoke from the fires that still burned throughout the settlement across the battlefield, casting an ominous fog over the area.

 

The scene laid out for the captured survivors was apparent even through the dense smoke. The buildings had been razed, leaving behind only a few charred skeletons of what had once been walls and support beams. The sparse crops were trampled and burned. Defense weapons were obliterated. Dead bodies and mangled biomechs lay on the ground, fallen together in clusters so it was difficult to discern what was metallic and what was organic.

 

It was annihilation at its most destructive.

 

The battle had been short, utterly devastating to both sides, but the Machine’s forces were the victors.

 

Dread slowly walked through the decimated settlement, kicking the remains out of his path, not caring exactly what it was he kicked. He ordered his personal guards to stand back at the perimeter of the battlefield, next to where Blastarr and Soaron stood. They didn’t seem quite as eager as Dread to investigate the battle site.

 

The mission had been a test of Blastarr’s functions and abilities. Newly born a week earlier, a full test of his weaponry and programming had been necessary. Intel indicated that a settlement had new anti-Dread weaponry, thus making it the ideal location. Blastarr had followed Dread’s orders perfectly, had performed his duties relentlessly and without hesitation. The carnage was proof of that.

 

If only one warlord could have been born because of Power’s intervention, then his one warlord was a successful birth.

 

Blastarr was biometallic excellence.

 

He was also the next step in perfecting the process of placing human minds into more complex metalloid bodies. Many minds were now housed in Blastarr’s hard drive, all powering his massive processors. The data collected from the daily diagnostics Dread ran on his warlord’s internal systems would allow him to put the final touches on the transference process. Maybe, just maybe, he’d be transferred into his own biodread body within a year if all the tests were successful and analyses were positive, and he would no longer be trapped in his weaker, part-human body.

 

He glanced back at Soaron and Blastarr. They were standing apart, acting as if they were ignoring each other. He was sensing something rather odd between his two warlords. There seemed to be a type of sibling rivalry developing. Could Soaron be jealous of the new biodread? Could Blastarr not understand that both were equal within the Empire? The name-calling had started that morning, now they weren’t talking to each other at all. Yet they were machines with no emotions, so neither should have emotions affecting them, should they? What was the explanation for the unexpected behavior?

 

Dread would analyze their diagnostics later and try to determine the cause.

 

An overunit marched forward and saluted. “Lord Dread, we’ve finished our sweep. We can find no more survivors, but there are some indications that some villagers escaped to the north and west.”

 

No more prisoners. Not surprising. There had been fewer caught after the battles during the last few months. Something had changed in the resistance the Machine Empire was facing -- the organics, despite their dwindling numbers, were fighting back more and more with a powerful will, some making a last stand as cover for others escaping. But it wasn’t just the fact that they were resisting; it was the intensity of their resolve. After over fifteen years of fighting, they should have been subdued and submissive, but they weren’t. Something, or more precisely, someone had lit a proverbial fire under the Wastelanders’ determination, and they were fighting with a renewed sense of purpose. Dread studied interrogations and read through the research. Everything pointed to an expected conclusion -- the Wastelanders were being increasingly inspired by Power’s example. If a mere five-person team could cause Dread that much trouble, how much of a disaster could an entire village’s resistance bring down on the Machine’s forces? Clearbarrow was a clear indicator of the answer. More resistance meant more effort by the Machines... another reason for more warlords. More warlords meant more military might, and the organics would not be able to fight against such superior firepower and would desist in their resistance to the Machine.

 

Such behavior only delayed the inevitable. Soon enough, all of this would be over with. The world would be through the Transition and the New Order would rule.

 

“Was anything salvageable?” Dread asked.

 

“Some basic implements, farming equipment, some personal items as usual, a little intel, but my lord, we found a working radio. Several organics tried to destroy it but were shot down before they could.” He motioned to a cadet to bring the radio over. “This is the first time we’ve been able to secure a fully functioning radio before an axe was taken to it.”

 

Dread looked at the device. It reminded him of radios shown in World War II movies filmed in the 20th century. Bulky, an armful, technologically inferior to everything he knew. It was a piece of metal junk, archaic, anachronistic, barely important enough to put in a museum.

 

Yet the people in this settlement were willing to die to protect it? Why? It was just a radio. They weren’t as important as they had been some years earlier. They didn’t possess the same unifying capability they once did since Wastelanders no longer had the numbers or resources to be a united threat any longer. They were surviving in smaller and smaller settlements with fewer people to maintain an armed resistance. A radio only had short-range capabilities, perhaps just enough range to reach fifty miles at the most. Still, it was a means of communication that they kept secret. He’d seen that behavior for years. He smiled at the thought that organics would be willing to go to such lengths to protect a faded bit of technology while at the same time, they fought the Machine. Maybe they thought it a small victory that they had some small machine that was not under Overmind’s control?

 

Yet there was something new in this behavioral equation that Dread found odd. Years earlier when he tortured prisoners to get radio locations, the prisoners gave up the information easy enough and with a minimal amount of effort from the interrogators. Now, the organics were willing to die to protect them?

 

What had changed?

 

There was something amiss.

 

“Place the radio on my transport,” Dread commanded. “Have Blastarr and Soaron destroy what’s left of this settlement. Wipe it from existence. Take the prisoners for interrogation and then have them digitized.”

 

The overunit saluted. “Yes, my lord.”

 

~O~O~O~O~

 

Dread examined the radio as his pilot flew him back to Volcania. It was a simplistic design -- that was certain. Power button, frequency changer, a volume control, and an antenna. Nothing else. As he looked it over, a childhood memory resurfaced. When he was young, there was a resurgence of model building. Model cars, trucks, airplanes and ham radios were very popular items hobby-enthusiasts resurrected. Their attention to detail almost bordered on the obsessive, and the radio he held would have been a testament to that fact had it been built in those days. Some only wanted the outer look of the item to be authentic while most wanted to replicate every minute detail. 

 

Dread examined the small plate on the bottom of the radio. It read ‘Zenith.’ That meant nothing to him, but he assumed it to be the name of a real manufacturer, perhaps back in the 20th century. The radio enthusiast built a replica of a real radio from the early days of audio technology. Impressive. So externally, the radio mimicked the antique -- one with a limited transmitting/receiving range. Then Dread removed the outer casing and exposed the internal circuitry to examine it more closely -- and realized that the external design was as far as the duplication went. Improvements and advancements had been made. Some were remarkably inventive and unexpected. “Hmmm, originally short range but altered to receive longer range... and with a rather simplistically constructed signal booster to increase frequency strength.” He examined the circuit board. “The vicon circuits have been restructured to house solar batteries and enhanced frequency receptors,” he muttered to himself. He’d never seen a design like it. “Interesting. It could perhaps have a range of hundreds of miles?” he pondered.

 

In his hands, he held a sign of a personal defeat. All his attempts to rid the Wastelanders of radios had proven futile. The radios were out there, and the organics destroyed them rather than let them fall into enemy hands.

 

Could the fact it had a signal booster and could pick up longer-range signals be the difference? Yes, the rudimentary technology was surprising, but it didn’t seem so impressive an accomplishment that people would die to protect it.

 

Perhaps there was more to the equation than he first thought. He checked the database for the inventory of items found during other biomech sweeps in months past and focused on the few short-range radios that had been salvaged. They were listed as being in various states of destruction. One was determined to have had a patched-together internal circuitry that could increase its reception strength, but it would have not been a great range. It truly would have served no purpose other than being a frequency amplification device. There was no true technological advancement in that design.

 

After a close examination of another destroyed device, it was believed to have had a new type of vicon circuit. Again, nothing impressive on its own.

 

A third had a modified transmitter.

 

And they were all made years earlier. None of them were recent constructions.

 

But the one he was holding in his hands... it looked much newer... someone had advanced it... to long range... many, many miles...

 

All the raw materials necessary to build such a device wouldn’t have been readily available. Did that mean some sort of trade route had developed without his knowledge? And if so, with whom?

 

Maybe there was more to the radio than just the hardware. Exactly what did he know about radios other than the obvious? He knew how they worked -- he saw one used in a grammar school history class. They were something he saw in old movies or heard his grandfather talk about. All the different music channels and talk radio and... wait, just what were the organics listening to?

 

He connected the radio to the onboard computer and ran a simple reception test on it. Wait... this couldn’t be right. “Computer, repeat diagnostic,” he ordered. Within moments, the same information appeared on the computer screen before him. The receiver in conjunction with the signal booster and the newly designed vicon circuits had a range of thousands of miles? That was impossible, right? Even radios in the 20th century didn’t have that kind of range.

 

Wait... a slight wisp of a memory from a history book... something about technology changing... it was satellites. Satellite radio came when? The early 21st century? Later than that? Radio frequencies eventually stopped using airwaves. They were being transmitted via satellite to in-dash computers that ‘looked’ like radios or at least acted like them.

 

Was it possible... no. A second look at the circuitry proved that the signal was sent through airwaves, not satellite. That was one theory that was disproven immediately.

 

But airwaves... radios... if the radios had been altered to receive long range signals, were there transmitters in existence as well? Transmitters whose designs were also altered to send signals out further? Was there an entire communications system out there he was unaware of? Where would it be?

 

And if it did exist...

 

That meant that the East Coast and the West Coast could communicate with each other.

 

They could communicate?

 

Restoration of continent-wide communication was not something he had taken into consideration before. 

 

But could it go between continents? Could America communicate with England? Australia? Asia? Africa? Was this a worldwide system and not continental? And if it was intercontinental, was there an organized resistance forming from across the ocean?

 

He switched on the radio and heard nothing but static. Then, he turned the knob to change the frequency.

 

Slowly, the static cleared and he heard music. He didn’t know the artist or genre. It reminded him slightly of the music from the Quartol folk era of the mid-to-late 21st century.

 

His pilot turned his head toward him. “My lord, what is that?”

 

“A distraction, pilot,” Dread answered. And it was not a distraction he needed the pilot to hear. He immediately lowered the volume. He turned the frequency knob again and another channel became clear. He heard the words, “Return with us now to those thrilling days of yesteryear. The Lone Ranger rides again!”

 

The Lone Ranger? Who was that?

 

Again, he changed the channel. More music. It sounded synthetic, as if it were being played on computers and not actual musical instruments.

 

Again. A comedy sketch.

 

Again... "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!"

 

He kept changing the frequency, listening to each clear one for a few moments before searching again.

 

Then, he heard a live voice.

 

“This is Will Patley at Rumor Control. Dread, Soaron, a new biodread, some soldiers and an army of biomechs have just destroyed the settlement of Clearbarrow.”

 

News? A live news station? Current news over the radio? How could the Empire not have known about this? How could Overmind not know?

 

“There are few survivors who are relocating to safe zones. To any within the sound of my voice, do not go to Clearbarrow. There is nothing left. Dread’s forces have leveled the town. Dread is reported to be returning to Volcania --”

 

Live news? Almost immediately after the event happened?

 

He changed the channel again. Another voice sounded over the speaker. “Reported deaths in Alexandria, Louisiana, by Dread’s forces this week. Angelica Bremer, age 27. Thomas Kline, age 16. Judd Sawyer, age 91. Doris Caden, age 42. Davey Lewis, age 10. Vicki Monroe, age 19...”

 

The list seemed endless.

 

Dread changed channels again.

 

“Wood is a precious commodity in some areas, so a cooking fire must be fed by other materials. Pit cooking can be utilized using coal as a base along with hot rock cooking in areas where coal can still be obtained.”

 

A field-cooking frequency?

 

Dread turned the knob again.

 

An older voice that reminded him of Stuart Power said clearly, “Biomechs have a weak spot at the base on the back of their neck. A metal rod slammed into that area will--”

 

Instructions on how to stop biomechs? He changed frequencies again.

 

“This is Hank, the high-flying aviator with your eye-in-the-sky-on-Dread report for this morning. For the first time in six weeks, there’s not a single Dreadie ship flying between Dayton and Cincinnati. That’s in Ohio for some of you who may not know those cities, and that’s a little over fifty miles of biomech-free airspace, pilots. Good time to go joyriding.”

 

There was some static that cut through and drowned out the voice, then when his voice came through again, it was mid-sentence. “... haven’t seen it this congested since I was a kid, and I used to ride in my dad’s rig when he was on a cross-country trucking haul, so steer clear of Kentucky airspace. I don’t know what Dread wants down there, but I doubt it has anything to do with good ole’ Kentucky bourbon.”

 

“As for Tennessee... folks, traffic’s running about half of normal. Those pilots who routinely fly that route know what that means. Activity on the East Coast is down a bit from last month --”

 

Dread switched off the radio.

 

Music, entertainment, news, battle tactics, survival instructions...

 

Now he understood. The radios weren’t being used to unite the various resistance groups for military purposes. They were being used for everything.

 

Obviously, Overmind was unaware of the transmissions or else he would have tried to block them. How could it be possible that he didn’t know?

 

Dread thought about that question, studied the radio, considered the various options... one idea seemed more logical than the others. It was the frequencies themselves that Overmind didn’t know about. They were too primitive to be picked up by Overmind’s sensors. That meant Resistance forces were united in the very way Dread had been trying to prevent in a way he hadn’t considered. Nothing and no one had stopped them because they didn’t know there was anything new to be stopped.

 

The Wastelanders were using secure communications.

 

Wait.

 

The Wastelanders believed their communications were secure...

 

That gave Dread an idea.

 

They believed their communications systems were secure!

 

And they didn’t realize that Dread now had secret access to their ‘secure’ transmissions. That radio was, for all intents and purposes, his version of a 20th century enigma machine.

 

So if he could insert his own ‘secure’ transmission into the frequencies listened to by the radio-listening public...

 

An idea began to form.

 

If he couldn’t beat them, he could join them.

 

~O~O~O~O~

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

One month later

 

“Overunit Larabee, my lord,” Laccki announced as he led the confident woman into the throne room.

 

Dread took note of the overunit. It had taken him nearly a month to find someone he believed capable of the task he had in mind. True, she was the epitome of a Dread soldier. Impeccably dressed, rigid posture, her face an emotionless blank, she marched across the hall and stood at attention before Dread. Not a flinch, not a blink. She was incredibly disciplined, just as Dread wanted all his soldiers to be.

 

That would work well for his plans.

 

But it was also a certain quality to her personality that would prove even more useful.

 

Dread glanced at his other visitor before commanding, “Laccki, you may leave.”

 

The little robot cocked his head in Dread’s direction, then at Overunit Larrabee and then turned and rolled out of the throne room with a parting, “As you wish, my lord.”

 

Once they were alone, Dread stood up, towering over the soldier. “Overunit Larabee, I understand you have refused a volunteer assignment to be transferred to a metalloid body.”

 

The overunit took a breath before answering. “I do not believe I have proven myself worthy of such an honor, my lord.”

 

“You don’t?” Dread pressed a button on the console and Larabee’s record appeared on the screen. “You excelled in your studies. Your successes have ranked in the top two percent of every assignment you’ve been given. You were one of the youngest to be promoted to youth leader and overunit. Your superiors have commended you on many occasions. In what way are you not worthy?”

 

Larabee waited a moment before answering. Perhaps formulating her answer? “My record, while exemplary, is not unique, my lord. Others have similar records. They have not been honored with the elevation to a metalloid body. I am no different from them given I have not distinguished myself in any particular manner in service to the Machine. I have not earned my reward.”

 

“Ah,” Dread almost smiled. Self-deprecating but truthful. An interesting combination. If she had been anything other than one of his soldiers, Dread would have thought her capable of being a con artist given that was one of their tactics. ‘Conning’ would be a necessary ability for his plan. “I see. Overunit, I have a mission that requires a long-term commitment. It will be dangerous in many ways. A soldier’s belief system would be under constant attack, their sensibilities tested at every moment. Their personal safety would be at risk in ways they had never considered. If you volunteer, I believe you will distinguish yourself and prove yourself worthy. If you wish to volunteer, that is.”

 

Without hesitation, Larabee asked, “How may I serve you, my lord?”

 

Dread walked over to a worktable and motioned for Larabee to follow. There was a bulky device sitting in a leather carryall pouch. Dread motioned toward it and waited as Larabee examined it. “Do you know what this is, Overunit?”

 

“A transmitter of some sort, I believe. It appears to be a device I remember reading about in my youth.”

 

“Indeed,” Dread agreed. “It is a small, effective piece of technology from the Old World that I built myself. What do you know of short-range and long-range radios?”

 

“They were a means of communication once. Sometimes, only one way,” she explained.

 

“Correct.” Dread placed his hand on the transmitter and turned his head toward Larabee. “This technology is primitive and therefore incompatible with our systems. The frequencies are unreadable by our sensors and are unable to be detected or recorded while being used by organics in the Wastelands.”

 

Larabee frowned. “Unknown to the Machine, my lord?”

 

Good. She believed in the infallibility of the Machine. A true believer. “Some years ago, the Resistance attempted to unite their forces by making use of similar prehistoric devices. Their numbers were plentiful enough that uniting could have caused certain problems for the Empire, and this would have allowed them an advantage we could not afford. When I discovered this, I immediately sought out the locations by any means available and destroyed the radios and the towns utterly.”

 

Larabee nodded her head. “I remember, my lord. I had the privilege of being at the cleansing of Port Charleston.”

 

Port Charleston. Dread remembered that site well. A fledgling Resistance force had a base there and put up a fight. The other denizens of the area had established anti-biomech defenses, and the battle lasted three weeks before Dread could spare Soaron from other battles to finish the job. The death toll on both sides had been high.

 

“Did you find the results distasteful, Overunit?”

 

“Distasteful, my lord?”

 

“Did you object in any way to the manner in which the organics were dealt?”

 

Larabee shook her head slightly. “They were enemies of the Machine, my lord. Each deserved to die a traitor’s death.”

 

Her fervor was still strong, Dread noted. Her records showed that she had absolutely no reservations in dealing with organics, either interrogating them or destroying them. She had assisted in the interrogation of certain Resistance personnel without hesitation. Another reason Dread had chosen her for the mission.

 

Dread crossed his arms and leaned against the worktable. “According to your record, you were born on the East Coast and trained for the Dread Youth at the Hudson Bay training facility.”

 

“Yes, my lord. My parents were both assigned to Hudson Bay.”

 

Dread nodded. Larabee’s file detailed how her parents were employees at one of his schools and later adopted his ideals. They were loyal and died protecting the school from Resistance forces. He double-checked Larabee’s age. She was fifteen when she volunteered for the Youth Corps training school, merely three days after losing her parents. She believed, just as her parents had, and was proving to be steadfast in her certainty. “Your parents were killed during an attack by the Resistance?” he inquired, wanting to gauge her answer.

 

“They were, my lord. One of the early Resistance leaders, a man named Monroe, led the attack. He was killed by a counteroffensive by our forces two days later. As they all should be destroyed.”

 

Perfect, Dread thought to himself. Not only a true believer, but someone who wished nothing more than to eliminate the organics that opposed the Machine. He had thought that she would have no compunction working against the Resistance, but now he was certain of it. “Overunit, you may not be aware of this, but in the Old World, when attackers took control of another area, one of the first thing they claimed was the communications network. It aided their purposes and prevented the enemy combatants from speaking to each other and planning a defense or counter-offensive.”

 

“A wise tactical move, my lord,” Larabee agreed.

 

“It was. However, in this case, I do not wish to capture a communications network. I intend to build one and use it for our own purposes. We will control, not capture. Does that sound like a worthy mission?”

 

Larabee nodded. “It does. What must I do?”

 

Dread almost smiled. “In time, you will start broadcasting over the radio as someone reporting news and intel to the Resistance and Wasteland populations. The East Coast has more active resistance cells, so I have concluded that we should start from that region to build your reputation slowly. Use words to unite the Resistance forces in that region. After a time, your voice will be trusted. Reports of your transmissions will be passed to others, and soon, even the West Coast will listen to you. At some point, you will meet members of the Resistance. Their belief that you are one of them will engage their curiosity. They will undoubtedly initiate the meetings themselves. You must persuade them that you are a Resistance fighter.”

 

For the first time, Dread saw ambivalence in Larabee. 

 

“My lord, how am I to accomplish this? How do I convince them that I am one of them? How do I speak to the enemy like the enemy?” she asked.

 

“You can’t. Not yet. You will undergo an intensive training program to prepare you and teach you the ways of the Wastelanders. Then, you must live among them, adopt how they speak, acclimate yourself to their customs and their ways. You must convince everyone that you are a Wastelander, including other soldiers of our Empire. It will be dangerous because you cannot reveal your identity to anyone. You will be a target for our own forces. Afterwards, you will begin to talk to all those who can listen over a particular frequency I alone will control. I want you to give them information about certain movements within our Empire. I will work with you to set up attacks that the Resistance can thwart to help develop and sustain your credibility. You will keep a strict record of everyone you speak with or who contacts you, how they contact you and with what information. It may all prove useful in this endeavor. And when the time is right and you’ve gained their trust, we will spring a trap.” He picked up the transmitter and handed it to her. “This will be your weapon, and in some ways, a device that transmits words is a more potent weapon than the most powerful gun ever built.”

 

Larabee hoisted the transmitter over her shoulder. “My lord, may I ask a question?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Why offer this assignment to me?” she wanted to know. “I’m an overunit. This is a covert operation, and only commanders are assigned infiltrations of this level.”

 

Yes, how to explain that he had an ulterior motive for choosing her... He thought for a moment, then answered, “Because you possess certain qualities necessary for other aspects of this mission,” Dread sighed. He had to reveal a failure of the Machine Empire, something he didn’t want to do but realized he had to in order to explain what Larabee’s motivation for a part of the plan would be. “Overunit, have you ever heard of a member of the Dread Youth turning traitor and joining the Resistance?”

 

“Impossible, my lord,” Larabee disagreed. “No member of the Corps would do that.”

 

Dread stood straight, towering over her once again. “This is information that you will not repeat to anyone else. Is that understood?” 

 

“Absolutely, my lord.”

 

Dread considered his words carefully. “For years, there were rumors that one of my soldiers that turned traitor. A cadet would hear this, report it to their overunit. The cadet would be disciplined for making a report without proof, and the overunit would be removed or reassigned. At the time, I thought it was just a story. Gossip that needed to be destroyed. Yet, the rumors persisted.  Over time, more of my soldiers have heard this tale, and some now believe it. For others, they have seen the proof with their own eyes, and once belief is a proven fact, dispelling it or hiding it is impossible. It must be stopped unequivocally.” 

 

“Have you seen the proof, my lord?” Larabee asked him.

 

“I have.”  Dread walked to a computer screen and pressed a button on the console. The picture of a youth leader appeared. “This is Youth Leader Jennifer Chase.”

 

Larabee knew of Jennifer Chase. She had studied her career, considered her a type of secret mentor. “The youngest cadet to be promoted to youth leader, and she was to be promoted to overunit,” Larabee said, her voice sounding with a bit of envy. “She was known to all of the Dread Youth as an exemplary soldier. She was once referred to as a pinnacle of leadership. She was top of each class, a pilot of remarkable skill. Her loyalty was complete. She was killed during a cleansing in Kansas. I was at the Reading of Remembrance when her name was called out as one martyred for the Machine.”

 

Was that admiration Dread heard in her voice? 

 

“I myself believed her a martyr and praised her sacrifice,” Dread continued. “I had no doubt in her loyalty. She was promoted to overunit at the successful completion of the Sand Town cleansing. I chose her to be one of the first transferees into a metalloid body. How could she not be chosen? She was a masterpiece. Considered a perfect cadet by all. She was the youngest soldier to be promoted to overunit, top of all her classes, had proven herself in battle. She was to be given a great honor of eternal life, to serve in the Aerial Recon, but her so-called death prevented her from serving the Machine in that capacity.”

 

“Excuse me, my lord, but so-called death?”

 

Dread knocked his knuckles against the monitor. “This, Overunit, is the face of the traitor. She was declared dead at the Dodge City cleansing years ago. We had ample proof of her demise. She was Remembered with honor, as a soldier who gave her life for the Machine. As you said, her name was read with other names of those who died in service to the Machine. It was some time later I learned that she was alive and a member of Power’s team as their pilot, utilizing the skills she learned under my auspices.”

 

Larabee stared at the face on the monitor, imprinting it on her own mind. She frowned slightly. “A traitor? And with the Power Team?” she whispered. “I had not thought such an occurrence was possible.” 

 

“Neither did I until the Power Team attacked one of my outlying bases when I was there. I saw her. My perfect cadet, loyal to the Machine, shooting down my biomechs and destroying my transports. One of my greatest successes had become my greatest failure. Her existence is no longer a secret, and that makes her a greater threat to the Empire.”

 

Larabee stared at the monitor for a few moments longer, her shoulders slumping slightly at the idea that her ‘her’ was a traitor, then turned to Dread, “Do you wish me to locate and execute her?”

 

“Perhaps in time, the opportunity will present itself,” Dread answered, “but there’s another assignment that you must pursue first. Your scholastic and military history mirrors hers in many respects. However, something more subtle must be utilized for this mission.” He looked her in the eye and said, “In some ways, your behavior, stance, stature, all would be seen as similar to Chase’s demeanor when she first left. With some training, your voice can be modified to mimic Chase’s style of speaking, her mannerisms can be duplicated. It is this similarity you will need to exploit to some extent.”

 

“A similarity, my lord?”

 

Dread then pulled up a surveillance recording of Jonathan Power as he helped Masterson unload supplies from their jumpship. “Do you know these men?”

 

“Captain Power and Major Masterson,” Larabee said confidently. “The leader and a member of the Power Team.”

 

“Correct. You must make contact with Power after you’ve gained a trustworthy reputation through your broadcasts. You should act unbelieving at first, perhaps even coy until he proves he is Power. After that, maintain a distant but friendly association with him. It would work in your favor to befriend other members of other resistance teams before attempting to meet with Power. It will lend an air of preconceived legitimacy to your actions.”

 

Again, Larabee studied the picture. “Of course, my lord. But this similarity to the traitor? How is it to be exploited? And for what purpose?”

 

Dread stared at the monitor. “Your similarity to the pilot should intrigue Power just enough for him to trust you implicitly during your first meeting but not realize that his trust is because of the similarity.”

 

Larabee stared at Dread, uncomprehending. “My lord?”

 

“Sometimes, Overunit, confusing the enemy in ways he is not expecting is the key to success. It has come to my attention of late that Power has formed a type of attachment to the pilot. I am not aware of how strong the attachment is or if it is of a romantic or a friendly nature. It may be nothing more than that of a leader for one of their soldiers or a mentor for a student. Regardless, it is an attachment we should make use of in our tactics.”

 

Larabee raised an eyebrow at that news. “You seem uncertain of the information, my lord?”

 

“Somewhat,” Dread admitted. “I do not have definitive proof yet, but I have the rumors, confessions garnered through interrogations, and there was a recording made of Power and the pilot.  From this, I have interpreted their behavior toward each other as an estimation of an attachment.”

 

“May I ask about the recording, my lord?”

 

Dread almost smiled. The overunit was curious. Not a common trait at all. “Some time ago, we captured Power during a session of mass digitizations. His interrogation was recorded before he was retrieved by his team and some of the data survived the facility explosion. The pilot masqueraded as an overunit to rescue him. There was a moment I believe indicated certain feelings toward one another that they themselves were as yet unaware of. There is a friendship, that much is certain. However, given what I know of Jonathan Power, he would not take advantage of such a friendship or create a situation that would damage team cohesion. That is where his weakness can be found. Your similarity to the pilot should give Power the opportunity to switch his attraction from a teammate to one who only reminds him of his teammate, one he would not be reticent to pursue. One older, more mature. One more equal to him in various aspects. One he would not think he was taking advantage of because you would seem more worldly, and more to the point, not a member of his team where fraternization is frowned upon.”

 

Larabee frowned. “I don’t understand, my lord.”

 

Dread chuckled. “By the time you meet Power, you will. As part of this assignment, you will have to live among the organics on the East Coast to establish yourself as a credible source of information and unification. It will necessitate complete immersion in their culture. Do you still wish to volunteer?”

 

Larabee stood at attention again. “I am here to do as the Machine wills, my lord.”

 

“Good,” Dread nodded his head. “You will spend the next month in an intensive training course teaching you how to live in the Wastelands, how to communicate, how to survive and how to use the radio effectively. As you have already observed, only commanders are used in infiltration assignments. Consider this mission as a chance to prove your abilities. Should it prove successful, your promotion to commander is assured. After that, you may feel that you have achieved a unique success and are worthy of a metalloid body?”

 

Larabee almost smiled. “I am grateful for the chance, Lord Dread. I will not disappoint you.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Power Base

Months later

 

Jennifer walked into the control room and heard a very excited voice yell over the radio speakers--

 

“The Giants win the Pennant!

The Giants win the Pennant!

The Giants win the Pennant!

The Giants win the Pennant!” 

 

Then she saw her team smiling and cheering and clapping hands... ah, must be baseball. If there was one thing all her guys loved, it was baseball.

 

“The Giants?” she asked.

 

Scout looked up from his computer monitor, poked his thumb toward the radio, a wide grin on his face. “1951 National League Pennant, Brooklyn Dodgers versus the New York Giants.”

 

Brooklyn Dodgers... New York Giants... Jennifer remembered some vague references Mentor had told her about... some highlights... ah, right. The Giants went on to compete in the World Series against the New York Yankees in 1951 but lost. Names of famous baseball players were connected to that particular series. Names like Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays.  No... maybe that was the New York Yankees? Or was it San Francisco? She didn’t know. She only knew a few names and didn’t remember how they were all associated.

 

Jon walked over to her and whispered, “They found a channel that’s airing every single sports event they can find. We sent in a request to listen to each baseball game in order they were played, but they don’t have all the games.”

 

She whispered back, “Why do I have a feeling you suggested that?”

 

Jon smiled and shrugged. “Just because I love baseball?”

 

She shook her head in amusement and smiled. Ever since someone, somewhere, had found recordings from the 20th and 21st centuries, the team had searched for frequencies airing recordings they’d enjoy. Former sports competitions were a favorite as were the frequencies Hawk called “news channels.” Music? Definitely. Scout was able to increase his vast music knowledge with genres he had never heard before.

 

Still, listening to all the baseball games ever played? “Wait, I asked Mentor to tell me about baseball when I first heard of it. Wasn’t the first game ever broadcast in 1921? And the last game in 2132?”

 

Jon nodded. “211 years of baseball games, 162 games per team per season, and there were 30 teams. Even if they don’t have all the games, they’re airing two a week--”

 

“Got it,” she laughed. “We’ll be listening to baseball for a long time.”

 

“A very long time!” Scout laughed as he focused his attention back on his computer monitor.  “Strange,” he muttered.

 

“What’s strange,” Jennifer asked.

 

“Anomalous readings from some of our gate jumps. I first noticed them a few months ago, but they’re sporadic. I’m thinking maybe a power surge or a power drain of some kind?”

 

Jennifer walked over and looked at the data. Some jumps read normal on the sensors, others read slightly different. “Any idea what it is?”

 

“Not yet. They’re always different, and I can’t find a pattern yet. What we need is a day off so you and I can focus on this. We shouldn’t be getting these kinds of readings.”

 

Their attention was suddenly drawn back to the radio. A song began to play. Something about a food called ‘hot dogs’ and what kinds of kids ate them. What was funnier was when Hawk and Tank began to sing the song as well.

 

Jennifer shook her head in amusement. Ever since a station that only aired commercials was found, it seemed everyone on the team was humming or singing the… what were they called? Jingles? The short songs seemed to grab people’s attention and stay in their memories. Mentor told her that had been on of the goals with commercials, to be memorable.

 

Yet all that amusement or information paled in comparison to Freedom One’s broadcasts. Yes, the variety of radio frequencies was growing at an exponential rate. Yes, the information was vital to many people for various reasons. Yes, more people were surviving because they learned more survival techniques. Yes, the Wastelanders were beginning to unite because they had established actual communications. However, there was something missing from the broadcasts, some small, difficult-to-describe aspect that was hard to explain. Then, they found the missing “it.” They first heard her voice months earlier when Jon had been searching for new frequencies from across the country.

 

“This is Freedom One with an update of the battles for the East Coast Resistance. Mobley’s soldiers in Charleston have won a great victory against Dread’s forces. They forced three platoons of biomechs off a cliff and into the Atlantic Ocean after a battle. With their armor cracked from the ongoing battle, their internal systems were exposed to the salt water that short-circuited them. Cory’s troops in Nashville destroyed one of Dread’s parts manufacturing plants hidden in the mountains. They suffered no casualties. Bleakley’s crew marched to New York, routed a biomech-guarded convoy of prisoners and freed them.”

 

There was a pause, then, “We lost Underwood in Delaware after fighting Soaron and Blastarr. Dread sent both biodreads to destroy a settlement in a northern area. Underwood and his team tried to buy time for the people to escape, but they weren’t successful. All were killed.” Again, a pause. “We have suffered losses. We all know that emptiness inside, but we cannot let that deter us. We have also won victories. Our fight to survive is not a futile one. It is noble. It is human. It is our desire to live and our will to go on that makes us human, that makes us better than the Machine. We are all soldiers. There is no choice for us, and as soldiers, we all know that there will be, at times, the empty chair at the table. There will always be the glasses raised in tribute to a fallen comrade. We understand that some must be lost to save the whole, and as soldiers, we have accepted that fate. Yet we know that Dread’s forces are not invincible. We have seen the biomechs destroyed. We have witnessed Blastarr and Soaron’s defeats. We cannot give up. We must fight to survive, and we are all in this fight together.”

 

Another pause. “I know there are times when you feel as if the fight is too big, as if there is no end in sight. There are times when I wonder if we will survive and stop the Machines. Then, I see the commitment of our soldiers, of us. I see the determination to not only survive but to live. Yesterday, I saw a mother and her child sitting by a stream, reading a book. It has been so long since I’ve seen something so... simple and elegant. This is what we are fighting for. Not just to remain alive but to live, and that is why we will continue to fight. We will find the strength and the will and the patience. This war may go on, but we will prevail if we keep our focus on our goal.”

 

“I know that I am speaking mostly to the East Coast Resistance, but my voice can now reach beyond the narrow confines of our region. One day, all our Resistance forces will be united. Today, I learned of news from the West Coast. I learned that Cypher, the Angel City Resistance leader, successfully smuggled needed intel to the forces on the West Coast. Captain Power and his team destroyed a biomech manufacturing facility in Washington State. Boxley and his team rescued an entire town from biomechs in Montana. We are becoming a united country in deed if not in fact. Our words spoken over these frequencies are the pioneers of this endeavor. One day, all of our voices will again be heard from sea to sea. We will all be connected. Our collective will, a force to be reckoned with. Today, a united Resistance is but a dream, but tomorrow, it will be a reality. We will survive. We will win, and we will live.”

 

Apparently, the newly designed radios, the signal boosters and the hidden transmitters that were being utilized were working better than anyone had realized. Freedom One was helping to connect a nation with her words.

 

That was what the other frequencies were missing. It was the reassurance that humans need that even in the most hopeless situations, hope did still exist. 

 

At the same time every day, the Power Team would crowd around the console in the command center and would forego all other frequencies until they heard the reports from Freedom One who eventually became the Voice of the East Coast Resistance. She might have come out of nowhere to speak about the victories and failures on the East Coast, but she continually gave the audience hope and reminded them of the fact that the Dread forces weren’t invincible, and they couldn’t give up. They had to fight if they were to survive, that they were all in the fight together. She tugged on emotions many soldiers didn’t know they had any longer, and her voice became a trusted voice of the Resistance.

 

Week after week passed, and the team listened to every broadcast from Freedom One. After listening to one particularly inspiring transmission, Scout said, “She really does put her life on the line with those broadcasts.”

 

“Dread’s been trying to shut her down for months,” Hawk reminded him. “She barely got out of that trap that last time, and that’s only because Sands was able to get her out of there.”

 

Tank turned off the radio once a new broadcast about crop rotation began. “I heard rumors that she helped get some radios to some of the outlying settlements recently.”

 

“Not her,” Jon corrected. “Remember? She mentioned that new people were hearing her, and she wasn’t aware that they were there at first. Whoever’s getting radios to people in the Wastelands has been doing it for months. It’s just now that it’s really making a difference.”

 

“And Dread’s doing nothing about it,” Jennifer pointed out.

 

Apparently, none of the others had considered that.

 

“What do you mean, kiddo?” Hawk asked her.

 

“Before, when radios were being distributed, Dread sent out troops to find them, destroy them and punish the towns. Like Sand Town. This time, he has to know about the radios but he’s not doing anything about them. That’s not like him to let us get an advantage.”

 

No, none of the others had considered that fact.

 

“Maybe he doesn’t know about the radios yet?” Scout shrugged. “Or maybe he knows that he can’t stop them this time? We’re better organized now than we were years ago when Sand Town happened. Heck, we’re better now than we were a few months ago. Lines of communication are all over the place, we’re getting valuable intel from all quarters these days in ways Dread wouldn’t even think about. Maybe he’s decided to cut his losses? It’d be a lost cause and a waste of resources to try to find them like he did before because he knows he wouldn’t have a chance of finding them all?”

 

Hawk stood and stretched, easing muscles that had been sitting still too long. “I wish I could believe he doesn’t know about the radios. They use frequencies the Empire doesn’t. The signals are encrypted. But he has to know there are some radios out here. I mean, he has to, right? There are radios in a lot of towns they’ve been attacking. Maybe he just doesn’t realize how many or what we’re using them for?”

 

Jennifer gave him a disbelieving look.

 

“Maybe?” Hawk asked with a grin. “For whatever reason, maybe we’ve caught a break on that one?”

 

Maybe he was right. Maybe once, just once, time was on their side and they were being given a break, no matter how brief. But radios were being found all over the country, yet no one seemed to know where they came from... that was one gift horse whose mouth Jennifer couldn’t not look at.

 

Still, to tell the truth, Jennifer knew what they were looking at; she just didn’t know what it was they were looking for.

 

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Volcania

Weeks later

 

Report after report...

Attack after attack...

Disaster after disaster...

 

Dread catalogued and classified all the incoming alerts, prioritized them, double-checked which ones had an impact on the continuing functioning of the Empire and those that were involved with his own personal pursuits.

 

There was only one answer to his continuing and growing losses. The Resistance was getting intel from someone that had direct access to Volcania. Perhaps he could use that as a ruse in some way...

 

Regardless of a traitor working within his own fortress, there were more immediate concerns. He’d come to one uncompromising decision -- the Resistance had to be stopped, but in order to do that, Power and his team had to be destroyed first. First. Without them, the rest of the Resistance groups were nothing more than mere annoyances that could be more easily dealt with. They didn’t have Jon’s technology or access to the Power Team’s capabilities. They also weren’t the symbols that the Power Team represented. Other Resistance forces didn’t inspire the move-to-action found so often in Wastelanders. No, without the Power Team, the Resistance would crumble and fall even if they had inside information of Dread’s plans.

 

It would have to be a trap, that much was certain. No straight-forward plan would work since someone was leaking the details.

 

Timing could be an issue. So would location. Dread would have to make certain Power would be in a uniquely advantageous site, but how?

 

Wait... .location... maybe the location didn’t have to be anywhere in particular. Taking geography into account wasn’t always necessary when devising plans to deal with Power since he was able to move over the continent with remarkable speed to any location... and Dread was back to that problem again. He’d wracked his brain time and again, and he’d come up with one possible if not plausible theory -- it had to be teleportation. The fact that Dread had discounted all his other theories by process of elimination was one path of discovery, but his research into the teleportation technology had him more convinced than ever that that was what Jon was using since that ship of his wasn’t capable of producing those rates of speed. Figuring out Jon’s capabilities was secondary in getting rid of Jon but perhaps a trap could be planned that answered the question of how Jon traveled? Satisfy Dread’s curiosity?

 

How many missions did he have underway to bring down Power? Seven? Eight? Were any of them making any progress? He needed a more focused plan. Something Jon wouldn’t be expecting.

 

There were some plans that he had used against Resistance teams before with a great deal of success. Perhaps he could use a variation of an old plan --

 

Dread saw a small blinking light on the communications console. Blue light. That meant a tightbeam communication from Overunit Larabee. Maybe progress was at hand?

 

“Overunit, report.”

 

“My lord, I have good news. I believe the time to strike has arrived.”

 

“Indeed?” Dread asked. “How so?”

 

“I’ve made personal contact with the major Resistance leaders countrywide over the last two months. I’ve discussed a unification of their forces, and I was able to hint that Captain Power’s status and his unique leadership skills would be instrumental in the success of such a group. He and his team are folk heroes, and the populace would rally to them and support them without question if they were to vote Power as overall Resistance leader. A week ago, I took the opportunity to trick our Biomech forces to capture me, and sent an emergency request for help to Cypher. It cost him one of his satellite bases and one of his team members, but they relocated me to a new area. On the way, I saw a site I think would be perfect to trap the major Resistance leaders and Captain Power. I’ve communicated a few times with the captain. My lord, time, place, opportunity... it is time to put the trap in place.”

 

She sounded excited, so sure of herself, completely unlike the overunit who had stood before him months earlier thinking herself unworthy of transference.

 

“How far would the Resistance leaders have to travel?”

 

“Varying distances, my lord. Cypher hasn’t gone back to Angel City yet but I do not believe he is on the East Coast any longer. Recent intel indicates that Sands is in some mid-Atlantic region. The others will not reveal their locations until it’s time for the meet but their transmissions are on long-range frequencies.  I believe setting the trap now would be perfect.” There was a pause, then she asked, “Is there a problem, my lord?”

 

Problem? No. Opportunity? Yes. Perhaps the answer to one of the problems was forthcoming. “It has come to my attention that Power can travel very quickly in a very short amount of time.”

 

“I’ve heard the same from my sources, my lord. There is a great deal of speculation in the Wasteland about that.”

 

So Dread wasn’t the only one who was curious. “What have you heard?”

 

“Some theorize a new type of engine. Others consider teleportation. There are some theories that are somewhat imaginative but laughable.”

 

So he wasn’t alone in considering teleportation? “If that is his technology, then having the Power Team transport the leaders through whatever technological device would alert us to its location. Our resources in that area are somewhat limited. It would take time to send in the necessary equipment to track them.”

 

“I see. Would you like to postpone the trap until we have more surveillance equipment set up?”

 

That was the question. Delay destruction of the major Resistance leaders on the mere hope of finding intel on a supposed bit of technology? Dread pondered the question for a moment, then made a quick decision. “No, Overunit, set the trap. I will move troops and what equipment I can to the coordinates you send in the time we have. I’ll also monitor transmissions and gather any Intel that may prove useful in this undertaking. See if you can learn if there is any truth to the idea of a teleportation device.”

 

“I will, my lord. Thank you. Your plan has proven successful.”

 

His plan. Yes, one obstacle would be removed from the realization of his New Order once Power was out of the way, but ... “Overunit, since your last report, have you kept a strict accounting of all communications?”

 

“Those were your orders, my lord. I can transmit the latest data to you if you wish.”

 

“Send it with your next datastream. However, have you been contacted by anyone other than members of the Resistance or individual Wastelanders?” He almost said ‘fans of your show’ but he knew she wouldn’t understand that particular phrase.

 

There was a moment of silence, as if she were remembering her conversations. “No, my lord. I have also avoided all members of the Dread Youth as per your orders, so I have not had any conversations or contact with our own.”

 

“Information that has been relayed to you by the Resistance... was any of it classified data pertaining to Project New Order accessible only to overunits or commanders?”

 

“No, none. Why?”

 

No information had reached her that would cause alarm. “I believe the Resistance is using multiple means of communications to transmit secret plans as well as relaying information stolen from our databases to each other. You are trusted by the organics. It would be a logical action for one of them to include you in the communication link. Since that has not happened, one assumption may be that they are not using the radios to communicate such data privately.”

 

Again, there was a silence. “I have heard nothing that would indicate the radios are being used in that manner, my lord.”

 

So Dread could rule out one method. That was more than he had before. “Continue with the plan, Overunit. Send me the details, and let’s remove Power and his allies.”

 

“Yes, my lord. Long live the Machine.”

 

Yes. Long live the Machine. But every day, the threat to the Machine loomed larger thanks to the Resistance. Thanks to Power...

 

Another thought crossed his mind. He already had Larabee in position to attract Power. He had spies gathering intel and reporting to him. He needed a more focused agent to do his bidding.

 

There were five leaders coming to the meeting.

 

For a contingency plan, he needed five agents programmed for a specific purpose, not just one focused agent.

 

Determined, he left his throne room and walked to his private lab. It was one of the few places he could retreat to and indulge in a nearly-unneeded hobby -- tinkering. As a child, he loved to tear mechanical items apart and see how they worked. He enjoyed putting them back together again. His current profession of world domination and destroying the Resistance didn’t leave him much time to indulge in the hobby, so it was a rare occasion to take time to retreat to the private sanctuary. It was also a lab where he could experiment with computer programs designed to perform functions unimaginable even to Overmind, and sometimes, he wanted to work in privacy and not have Overmind proverbially looking over his shoulder, especially when he was ‘redesigning’ the devices designed by Overmind himself.

 

He sat down behind the console and quickly connected to the observation drone database. Overmind’s control of the drones wasn’t absolute. Dread could still find ways to hack into their systems and upload his own programs secretly. His plans of finding the enemy bases with tracking files using a security infiltration subcode had been subverted when the Power Team had discovered that’s what he had done when he attacked Cypher’s base and placed a hallucinogenic substance in their water. Once they knew what had happened, the information was sent out to every other Resistance group - or so Dread learned from his spies later on. Since that moment, no one had read a disc found at any untrusted site so no information of base locations had been learned. Dread would have to find another way to use that method given that it had been successful once.

 

Still, he had other resources.

 

The first few programs were rather involved. The observation drones were to monitor all transmissions and report back any information pertaining to the five major Resistance teams and their leaders to him and him alone by bypassing Overmind’s monitored frequencies. He needed specific intel, and he needed it fast.

 

If only he could use the drones for other reasons. How he would truly enjoy hurting Power personally. If only... Wait...

 

Dread mentally kicked himself. Another opportunity was staring him in the face, and he’d ignored it!

 

The observation drones were programmed to find anyone Dread deemed to be an enemy. Catch them if they can, kill them if they have to. All live prisoners were taken immediately to the nearest interrogation facility. The personal information and likenesses of all of Power’s Team had been uploaded to the facial recognition database years earlier. All drones were already on the lookout for them.

 

But why kill them all in a trap when individual captures within a trap could be an accessible option? Catch one, the others would come running to the rescue. It could work as a contingency plan should something happen with Larabee’s machinations, especially if the one he focused on was one team member in particular. What was the line in that old poem? ‘Welcome to my parlor,’ said the spider to the fly.

 

Within moments, he had written a program with a few simple commands to add to the ones already uploaded. The program read, ‘Find and observe the leaders of the five major Resistance groups. Members of Power’s team will transport the team leaders. Following Power’s team is a priority. When Youth Leader Jennifer Chase is present, follow the traitor until leader is delivered and bring to Ground. No other Machine entity to intercept transmission.’ With the Resistance capable of learning his secrets and transmitting them to other Resistance groups, he’d started using code words. Ground was currently another codeword for Volcania. Also, if Larabee failed to gain Power’s attention, then perhaps a drone could provide the successful contingency plan. Either way, capturing the team, or more so, capturing the traitor, would hurt Power and that would hurt the Resistance.

 

And since the trap was meant to destroy all the major Resistance leaders, Power included, dealing with the traitor would be a self-satisfying bonus.

 

Mentally patting himself on the back while scolding himself for the lateness of the idea, Dread walked away from the console and left his private lab.

 

 

Power Base

Late Shift

 

Jon walked into the control room as Jennifer listened to the radio through an earpiece. “Anything new?”

 

Jennifer shook her head. “Nothing new since this morning’s report. Seems to be a quiet day.”

 

“We need more of those,” Jon agreed readily. 

 

“Did you get a chance to read through the intel we were sent yesterday?”

 

“It was the location for a new munitions manufacturing plant Dread established near the Grand Canyon. I sent it to McAllister and Sundry. Their teams wiped them out.”

 

“Another win for our side,” Jennifer smiled at him.

 

“I wonder where the intel is coming from,” Jon mused. “It’s 100% no matter what we’ve been getting, and that’s been going on for months.”

 

“Someone wanting to remain anonymous?” Jennifer suggested. “Look at the ways we’ve gotten the intel. It’s always different. No method is used twice. If Dread ever found out how the information was getting to us, he’d make sure that source didn’t exist any longer.”

 

“Very true,” he glanced at the morning’s report. Time, location, numbers... one segment of news mentioned a Resistance team in Arkansas stopping several platoons of Dread’s troops. Word was that the mission had been an absolute success. “So what else are you listening for?”

 

She sighed. “I was waiting for Hank to call, but he’s late.”

 

Ah, Hank. Jon couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. He’d never met the man, but there was a close bond between him and Jennifer. Maybe it had to do with both being pilots for the UTO for a while and the camaraderie that existed in that small community, but Jennifer and Hank had a special connection. Whenever she spoke with him over the comm, a happy smile would appear on her face. He was the first friend she made on her own outside of the team, but no one on the team had ever met him. One of the few things Jon knew about him was that he had been injured in a crash after an aerial battle with Soaron. His muscles could no longer withstand the incredible g-forces inflicted on a body during a dogfight so he had become an ‘independent operator’ with his own patched-together transport that he used as a cargo carrier. Hank was considered to be a ‘cowboy’ of sorts when it came to flying. He took risks and ignored the laws of avionics. It was the reputation he had of being a bit of a rogue and scoundrel around the ladies that Jon didn’t care for, especially when it came to Jennifer. She seemed completely unfazed by it.

 

“He might be busy or involved in a mission?” Jon asked as he sat down next to her. 

 

“Or maybe I’ve already missed the call,” she said, a sad tinge to her voice.

 

She looked forward to talking to Hank when she could, and given the fact that fun was a rare commodity, Jon had always encouraged the conversations. Still, given the changes in their relationship, he felt secure enough to tease her a little.

 

“He may have found someone else to talk to over a tight-beam commlink?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Jennifer glanced at him and grinned. “Jealous?”

 

He had to smile back. “Should I be?”

 

“Oh, I think you’d find Hank a very interesting person. He can tell some great stories. He’s done just about everything.”

 

Interesting? “Military?”

 

“Former lieutenant in the Air Force,” she told him.

 

He leaned over, gave her a quick kiss and whispered, “Then there’s no need to be jealous. I seem to recall you have a fondness for captains.”

 

She gave him a quick kiss back. “Maybe certain ones.”

 

Then, a voice came over her earpiece. It sounded close, clear and over a secure encrypted frequency reserved for private pilot communications.

 

“Breaker, breaker, this is Hank, the high-flying aviator. Anybody got your ears on?”

 

“It’s Hank,” she said with a smile, indicating that Jon should listen in. “Hank and his CB jargon,” Jennifer shook her head. “He loves using that antiquated language with the other pilots. He taught it to me when we were flying with the UTO.” She pressed the encryption button on the communicator and said with a smile, “That’s a big 10-4, good buddy.”

 

“Jenny! I was hoping you was listening,” Hank’s happy voice almost shouted in her ear. “What’s new?”

 

Jon looked over at Jennifer and silently mouthed the word Jenny? Jennifer didn’t allow anyone to call her Jenny, but somehow, Hank had that rare privilege. 

 

“Nothing much,” she answered. “Where are you?”

 

“East Coast for a little while. Heading over toward Massachusetts pretty soon. Remember how Gundar said he was heading out that way? He gave me some good gossip. Says some interesting things are going on over there. More eye-bot activity lately. Especially today. Might be a good idea to put some eyes in the sky from our side on them, if you know what I mean.”

 

“That I do. I have Jon listening in.”

 

“How do, Captain Power! Pleased to meet you.”

 

Jon smiled at the relaxed, happy greeting. “Hello, Hank. Good to meet you too.”

 

Jennifer jumped back in to the conversation. “Anything new happening at the UTO?”

 

“Yes!” his voice got very animated. “They’re wanting to really pester Dread and set up an elite force of the best pilots available to do scrambles and hit and runs. I put your name in the pot for consideration. And they want to do more than that. Put on air shows, sort of pump up morale in the world, that sort of thing. Jenny, you’re gonna love this -- they’re bringing back the Blue Angels and the Thunderbirds!”

 

“Blue Angels and the Thunderbirds?” Jon whispered. Even after all those years, those groups of flyers were still well-known. “Air shows? In the middle of a war?”

 

“Absolutely, Captain,” Hank’s voice sounded so excited. “Bring some fun back into people’s lives. I’m going to be in charge, my son’s flying and I want the other best pilot around on his right wing. Jenny, that’s you, darlin’. And between the three of us, we might be able to really bring back the glory days of the Thunderbirds. I gotta tell you, they were something to see.”

 

“You saw them?”

 

“Once. It was the 2102 World’s Fair when I was a kid,” Hank argued. “My mom was a pilot too, and the only reason she talked my dad into going was to see the Thunderbirds fly. He wasn’t much interested in air shows. Car shows? Yeah. He liked those, but he didn’t give a flying flit for an airplane. I think I was about ten years old.”

 

Jennifer leaned over and whispered to Jon, “Here’s some fun.” Then, to Hank, “Wrong fair,” Jennifer calmly disagreed. “The Thunderbirds quit flying in 2097 because they lost a legal case. They lost the rights to the name and became the Phoenix Squad that year.”

 

Jon could almost hear Hank frown.

 

“You sure?”

 

Jennifer laughed. “Yes, I’m sure. The Thunderbirds flew the XF9 jets until 2096, then they flew one year with the XF10s. After that, they were grounded because an industrialist thought his son was a good enough pilot to fly with them. They disagreed so the industrialist leveled some trumped up charges at them, got them reassigned and brought in new pilots. They sued and lost the case, but the judge did retire the name. The industrialist renamed the new crew the Phoenix Squad.”

 

“With his son as the leader, I’d bet,” Hank growled. “That’s how it works, Jenny. It’s not what you know. It’s who you know. And since I know you, I want you on the team.”

 

Jennifer laughed. “But I already have a job,” she countered quickly. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

 

There was a brief pause before Hank answered, “Take a vacation? Moonlight?”

 

Jon found a sudden respect for Hank’s straightforwardness. It was jovial and honest and good-natured, and Jennifer seemed to enjoy it. Maybe that was just Hank’s personality? Maybe it went along with working hard and playing hard? Or maybe it was part and parcel for someone who could be considered a ‘damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead and we’ll grab a drink on the other side’ type of person? “I’ll think about it,” she answered noncommittally, winking at Jon.

 

“Well, in the words from a famous movie, do it for the money, for the glory, for the fun....”

 

Jennifer laughed. A real laugh. “We don’t have real money anymore. Not exactly,” she reminded him.

 

“Then do it for the glory, but mostly for the fun. Betcha the captain wouldn’t mind you taking some time off. Would you, Captain?”

 

Before Jon could comment, another incoming communication signaled that they needed to cut the conversation short. “Hank, we’re getting busy. I’ve got to go. I’ll think about it, okay?”

 

“I’ll be waiting to hear from you, darlin’,” he said as he signed off.

 

With a sigh, Jennifer pressed the console switch that let them hear the incoming communication. It was Dread troop updates. She began to take notes, noticing that most of the reports were about the East Coast…

 

“So…. Jenny?” he asked her.

 

Jennifer smiled at him. “Don’t get any ideas. Hank’s the only one who gets away with calling me Jenny.”

 

There was a story there, that was certain. That was one of those many tales from her past that she hadn’t told them about yet, but Jon had a feeling it could be somewhat amusing, whatever it was.

 

“Anything valuable?” Jon asked.

 

“The usual East Coast reports,” she answered. “Nothing unexpected.”

 

There was a pause, then he asked, “Anything from Freedom One in particular?”

 

Jennifer shook her head. “No, and she missed her last broadcast.”

 

That was never a good sign. “I could try contacting her. I’ve got her commlink frequency.” Jon looked over and saw Jennifer’s wry grin. “What?” he asked.

 

“So you’ve talked to Freedom One over a tight-beamed commlink?” she teased back.

 

Ah, so two could play at that game. “Jealous?”

 

“Should I be?” she almost laughingly asked him.

 

“She’s not really into telling stories like you say Hank is, but she’s very... uh... focused and serious. In a way, a little like you were when we first met.”

 

Jennifer shook her head. “I’m not sure I liked myself then.”

 

The comm alarm beeped for Jon’s attention. “Mentor’s decrypted some transmissions I need to read through.” He stood, then leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss.  “For the record, I liked you then.” Then, he kissed her firmly on the lips. With a strong whisper, he said, “I like you more now.” 

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Next Day

 

Freedom One was a voice. To many people, that’s all she was -- a disembodied voice echoing from the void, one that rose above the despair that plagued them daily. That was all they knew about her -- the sound of her voice. How many times had listeners heard her say, “This is Freedom One speaking. The Voice of the East Coast Resistance movement?” She was familiar. She was like another member of the family, a welcome guest at the table. When they didn’t hear the voice, people worried. Had something happened? Had Dread silenced another freedom fighter?

 

When her voice was first heard over the radio waves, many didn’t know if she could be trusted. Over time, listeners became used to her voice, accustomed to her broadcasts. Then, when her intel proved to be true, many on the East Coast became fans of her broadcasts. News of her reports were sent across country until many in remote areas were aware of her and waited to hear whatever news she delivered. Real time war Intel happening on the East Coast being learned on the West Coast in a small amount of time? Yes, it was an enticing thought. People huddled around their radios to hear what she had to say. At first, the broadcasts were haphazard and unscheduled. Soon, she was being heard at a particular time each week... then every day. There was an excitement when her reports began to occasionally include events extending beyond the East Coast in other parts of the country. Sometimes, it was a mere blip of a news story; sometimes it was a long involved report.

 

“Valiant fighters in quadrant nine destroyed one column of dread troopers today. No casualties.”

 

“Intensified sweeps by Soaron in sector one. All resistance fighters are warned to remain undercover.”

 

“Just received word of a stunning blow against a secret Dread project by Captain Power and his unit. They are an inspiration to us all.”

 

Even in the face of a great loss, she would let everyone know that yes, they had been beaten but no, they hadn’t been defeated. The Resistance was still fighting. There was still hope. The mere sound of her voice could inspire and reassure.

 

She hadn’t been heard from in two days, and people were beginning to worry.

 

Jon hurried through the corridors and spoke into his comm. “Scout, has it started yet?”

 

“Not yet, Captain,” Scout answered. “But it’s still a minute or two before air time.”

 

“Right. On my way.”

 

In a way, Jon felt a little strange feeling eager to hear the voice of someone he’d never met. It was similar to the anticipation he felt as a boy when a new action movie with his favorite actor was filmed and he couldn’t wait to see it. What was that old term called? Being a fanboy? Is that what he was? A fan of a mysterious disembodied voice instead of a captain of a Resistance group needing to hear any Intel that might affect an upcoming battle?

 

He walked into the control room to find everyone else there, all of them just as eager to hear Freedom One.

 

“Sure this is the right time?” Hawk asked.

 

“Positive,” Jon answered. “She missed her last broadcasts. I hope nothing happened.”

 

Scout focused in on the transmission. “We got it!” he said.

 

Immediately, Freedom One’s voice sounded over the speakers. “Freedom One is back on the air after an emergency relocation. I was nearly captured by Dread troops but managed to escape with the aid of Cypher, one of our bravest and most dedicated leaders.”

 

“Cypher?” Hawk muttered. “I wonder why we didn’t hear anything about it.”

 

Tank chuckled. “It must have just happened, Hawk. News still doesn’t move that fast.”

 

Scout chuckled. “I didn’t know Cypher was on the East Coast.”

 

Then Freedom One spoke a personal message. “Cypher? I owe you one. I know that it cost you.”

 

“Cost him?” Jennifer repeated.

 

“I haven’t heard anything about it,” Jon answered.

 

“Sacrifice is a word we all know too well. There is no one within the sound of my voice that has not lost someone. A wife. Husband. Children. Friend. Lover. But there is one thing we must never lose.”

 

Freedom One, along with Jon, said, “Hope.”

 

“Without hope, we’ll give up when we’re tired and hungry, and it seems that the chaos and madness must overwhelm us. When it seems as though hope has lost all meaning, on that day, Dread will have won. Hope is the flame that burns in our hearts. It is warmth when the soul is cold. It is light when darkness surrounds us.”

 

Scout shook his head in appreciation. “The lady’s a poet.”

 

“I end today’s broadcast with a special message. I summon the thunder. Repeat. I summon the thunder.

 

Summon the thunder?

 

Jon turned suddenly, loudly ordering, “Mentor, prepare to receive coded microburst!”

 

Immediately, Mentor appeared and answered, “Prepared to receive.”

 

Jon moved to the communications screen, everyone joining him. “Unscramble microburst and display coded location on screen.” A display of the state of Massachusetts appeared.

 

“Massachusetts?” Jennifer asked.

 

A locator signal showed up near what used to be Cape Cod. “That’s where she is.”

 

“That’s strange,” Jennifer muttered.

 

Jon glanced back at her. He heard an odd catch in her voice. “Why?”

 

“Not sure,” she said. Something about Massachusetts was tickling at her mind. Was it a memory? She’d figure it out later. However -- “That area doesn’t get Dread’s attention these days. Her transmissions are usually sent from wherever there’s the most trouble and noise back East. It seems odd that she’d be in a quiet area.”

 

That was strange. “Maybe. Summon the thunder means come at once.”

 

“How do you know that? Is it something you’ve set up with her?” Hawk asked.

 

Jon nodded, sort of, as if being the only one to speak to a celebrity was a reason to be embarrassed. “I’ve talked to her a few times by tight-beamed commlink. Gave her some information and she relays it back to the East Coast Resistance.”

 

Scout smiled. “You know her?”

 

“Not personally. I’ve just talked to her,” Jon corrected quickly.

 

“All right, let’s hit it,” Hawk urged everyone. “Given the area she’s in, it’d probably be a better idea to take the skybikes. Gives us more maneuverability in case we run into trouble.”

 

“And get us more data about the gate jumps,” Scout suggested. “I’m still getting those readings.”

 

“We haven’t seen a pattern in the anomalies yet,” Jennifer added.

 

“Not yet,” he said reluctantly.

 

Hawk nodded. “Okay. Sensors wide open on the bikes when we make the jump. Let’s get these two some more data.”

 

As they hurried out of the control room, Jon heard Scout say to Jennifer, “I can’t wait to see the face that goes with that voice.”

 

Looked like Jon wasn’t the only fanboy around.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Once again, Jennifer was faced with the prospect of confusing human behavior, only this time, she had a broader basis of understanding than she did months earlier at Tech City.

 

Her team was standing right in front of Freedom One. The Voice now had a form and a face, and her team was listening to her tell of a plan about uniting the resistance groups under Jon’s command.

 

It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t been out there or that the groups had never discussed a consolidation, but the timing and resources had never seemed adequate for such a plan to work. Guerilla tactics had worked better for everyone up to that point in the war, but had things changed enough that a united Resistance was possible? Jennifer didn’t think so. Still...

 

Jennifer listened as Freedom One spoke, detailing the plan in a matter of moments, and noticing how all of her team were hanging on Freedom One’s every word, just like they did when they listened to her broadcasts.

 

The woman seemed utterly unfazed by the attack they’d rescued her from. In fact, she didn’t look like she’d been in a firefight at all. Even her clothes looked pristine. Jon pulled off her helmet, and Jennifer heard a slight intake of breath from the other members of her team. Again, she had a basis of understanding for such behavior. The others thought her attractive, that was obvious, but she also noticed the slight facial tics and expressions in her teammates. She took that to mean that the image of Freedom One that they had imagined from just hearing her voice wasn’t quite the same as the reality of the woman standing before them. They were...  surprised? Impressed? Certainly not disappointed.

 

“Thanks,” Freedom One said with a nod of her head. “They must have gotten a fix on that last transmission.”

 

Jon seemed somewhat unaffected by her. Perhaps because they had spoken to each other before? There was a familiarity? “Anything broken?”

 

“Nothing that won’t fix itself,” Freedom One said with a half grin. “Thank you for coming. We’ve got to get out of here quickly, so I’ll get right to business.” She removed her backpack and placed it on some structural debris behind her. She unwrapped the covering to reveal an older piece of technology that Jennifer recognized from the Old World before the Dread Wars. “This is my transmitter. Beauty, isn’t it?”

 

Jennifer could hear the pride in her voice when she spoke of the transmitter. She understood that feeling. After all, she had her jumpship, a machine that meant a great deal to her, but her voice... there was a flatness to it that wasn’t there when she spoke on the radio. That was strange. Jennifer filed that thought away in her mind. There were other more important things to think about.

 

Turning to face Jon, Freedom One continued. “It’s our one real chance of uniting the Resistance. I have made contact with the leaders of the five most powerful Resistance forces in this country and proposed a meeting.”

 

A meeting? Of the five leading fighting groups?

 

Jon shook his head. “It’s too risky. If Dread were to find out --”

 

“He won’t,” Freedom One interrupted him. “Not if we move quickly enough, and that’s why I need you, Captain.” She took a step toward Jon, her demeanor confident and sure, not accusatory or judgmental. “Time is critical, so your team will need to bring the leaders here. There’s no way you could appear in the places you have without a teleportation device of some kind.”

 

Jennifer suddenly felt defensive. The transit gates were something they kept utterly secret. Had they messed up at some point? Had they given themselves away?

 

Apparently, Jon felt the same. “You seem to know an awful lot about us.”

 

That almost sounded like a confirmation of her speculation. Why didn’t Jon make a comment deflecting the idea of teleportation? For the first time, Jennifer wondered what the tight-beam conversations Jon and Freedom One held had included. Was it only Intel and military data? Was there any personal or professional information exchanged? Jon was very adept at not telling people things he didn’t want them to know and still carry on a conversation, but could he have slipped up and mentioned something that hinted at the gates?

 

“Maybe too much,” Scout added.

 

Scout was getting a bit defensive, too? Odd. He was one of the biggest fans of Freedom One that Jennifer had seen. They were questioning her?

 

“Knowledge is survival. I am a survivor.”

 

Jennifer heard another quiet sigh from her team. Survival. It turned the quietest of personalities into steel-spined fighters. She noticed that sometimes, certain individuals with that trait didn’t barter or negotiate. They got right to the point. And Freedom One was just such an individual. “But if you’re not interested, I can always find another way.”

 

Jennifer had also noticed that people with that trait could sometimes make veiled threats to get their way.

 

“All right,” Jon countered. “Suppose we agree to provide transport. What makes you think the other Resistance leaders will come?”

 

True enough. Whenever attempts to unite the various factions had been tried in the past, there was always something that kept it from happening. Logistics, mistrust, a lack of willingness, Dread attacking...

 

“You, Captain,” Freedom One explained as if it were the most obvious answer. “They know what you’ve done against Dread, and each one of them has seen you or a member of your team. And they’ve agreed to accept you as overall leader of the Resistance. Together, we can beat Dread once and for all. I think that’s worth a little risk.” She moved a few inches back toward her transmitter. “They’re standing by for a follow up broadcast. What should I tell them?”

 

Jennifer could sense Jon weighing the pros and cons of the situation, just as he did with all important decisions. Being the leader of the Resistance? Was that a responsibility he wanted? Leading a small team was one thing, but leading an army?

 

Finally, he answered, “All right, we’ll do it.”

 

Jennifer wasn’t surprised at his answer. Was there really any other choice if the slightest chance of success existed? They were experts at ‘grabbing at straws,’ as the old saying went.

 

Freedom One gave him a wry smile and quickly charged up her transmitter. She spoke into the headset with firm authority and self-satisfaction. “This is Freedom One to the Five. Freedom One to the Five. The torch is lit. Repeat, the torch is lit.” Then, just as quickly, she powered down the transmitter. Was she worried that another group of biomechs would home in on their position? Didn’t they already know where she was?

 

“Sands arranged for her own transport, and Gundar asked specifically for Pilot. That leaves Blaze, Cypher and Evanier. You know where they are?”

 

Wait, didn’t Freedom One know where they were? Cypher had recently rescued her from another attack, so he was on the East Coast somewhere. They could contact him by tight beam on a pre-designated frequency. And Gundar? He had been a ground coordinator with the UTO when she first joined the Power Team, before he went out to form his own Resistance team. He had a distrust of anyone other than his team, but Jennifer was one of the few he did trust, probably because of her association with the UTO. Also, it didn’t hurt that Hank and Gundar were friends, and Hank vouched for Jennifer from the moment he met her. After that, as far as Gundar was concerned, Jennifer’s word was gold. She was one of the few people alive that Gundar trusted with intel, such as the fact that his base was mobile and that they were currently traveling around Vermont.

 

That left Blaze and Evanier. Latest reports from a week earlier had them on the East Coast, in Pennsylvania and Maine, respectively. That meant that all the team leaders that Freedom One was trying to get into one place were all currently in the Northeast. But she didn’t know that?

 

“No matter. Once you contact them, they’ll send you their coordinates,” she quickly stated.

 

“Where’s the meeting place?” Jon asked.

 

“Sector 23,” was the swift answer.

 

Sector 23. That was in western Massachusetts, the same state where they were standing. Massachusetts... Massachusetts... there was something about that location that was tugging on Jennifer’s memory. What was it? A name? A place? A story? She dismissed the thought and refocused her attention on what was going on. There would be no need to use the jumpgates to get back to the meeting place. Their secret way of getting from place to place quickly would remain secret -- yet Freedom One had made that comment about their being able to move around quickly...

 

Jennifer couldn’t dispel the uneasiness she was suddenly feeling at the moment.

 

Freedom One continued. “I’ll monitor the area and transmit exact coordinates by tight beam as each leader is retrieved and your people report in. It’s safer that way.”

 

Jon nodded, then gave his orders. “Tank, you take Cypher. Scout, Blaze. Hawk, you’ve got Evanier. I’ll take Freedom One to the meeting place.”

 

Freedom One shook her head as she packed up her transmitter. “Not necessary, Captain. I’ve got a groundhopper stashed nearby.”

 

She had a groundhopper? Jennifer glanced around. How did she get a groundhopper? Did Cypher leave her one after he rescued her? Did she ‘procure’ it from biomechs after Cypher left her there? Wouldn’t the biomechs have picked it up on their sensors and destroyed it?

 

This lady kept raising more questions in Jennifer’s mind, but she didn’t know why. Freedom One didn’t seem to be anything other than what she purported to be, so what was wrong?

 

She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t like the way Jon was acting toward Freedom One... how willing he was to go along with her idea, almost without question.

 

“Dread’s troops will be all over this area. Why don’t we just call it a precaution?” Jon suggested.

 

Deal done. No negotiations necessary. Just steel-spined individuals who got right to the point and made a decision.

 

So... her team seemed okay with everything... maybe her doubts were unfounded?

 

Jennifer watched Freedom One as the conversation continued. Thinking back to another time when they met with a strong-willed, independent female, she noticed that her team’s reaction to Freedom One was somewhat different from their reaction to Mindsinger. Was it because they knew that Freedom One was a woman, and they hadn’t known that fact about Mindsinger? There was no surprise on their part about Freedom one’s identity; just a quick acceptance that the person speaking with them was the same person they listened to on daily broadcasts. Then everyone became all business.

 

Even though Jennifer had a certain basis of understanding for everyone’s behavior, her team’s slight reluctance to trust the ‘woman behind the voice’ mystified her. She had reservations against immediately trusting anyone including Freedom One. She never trusted easily or quickly, but her team? They were more than willing to jump through hoops for Mindsinger, yet they were holding back when it came to Freedom One? Why trust one they had never met implicitly yet seem to question the other whose voice they had heard for so long?

 

She mentally tabled her wonderings and walked over to her skybike to check the controls. Everything was in good working order. Gundar had never been on a skybike although he had seen one before. What would he think about being taken to a meeting on one? That was when she noticed the power level on her chrono. It indicated her suit’s power readings were low. It must have been from those hits she took during the battle to rescue Freedom One. She’d need to conserve energy in case they ran into any more trouble. That meant breaking protocol and riding on the skybike unarmored while on a mission. Well, it couldn’t be helped. There wasn’t a recharging station nearby.

 

“The five major groups together,” Jon’s voice was low as he walked up behind her. “That’s a lot of resources we could utilize.”

 

“If it works,” Jennifer agreed.

 

“Right, there is that,” he agreed. “It’s never worked before.” He paused, and then said in a rather nonchalant voice, “So, Gundar asked for you personally?”

 

Jennifer smiled. “He’s seen me fly.” She saw Jon raise an eyebrow in mock surprise. “He visits the UTO from time to time, and he knows me. He doesn’t know any of you. That’s all.”

 

“Hank said he’s in this general area.”

 

“I’ll send Gundar a message and wait for him to answer me. He’s got a few hiding places nearby,” she confirmed. “It’s a little strange that everyone is here in the region though. We won’t have to fly through any of the gates. But she doesn’t know that they’re all in the area?”

 

Jon shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence. Even if it isn’t, we all know we can’t keep the gates secret forever,” he sighed. “I’m sure Dread’s trying to figure out how we travel so quickly. There’s no way to know what intel he has on us.”

 

“And what others have found out,” Jennifer added.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

She nudged her head toward Freedom One. “Like she said, knowledge is survival. Others may know the truth and have kept it secret for their own reasons.”

 

“It’s possible, but we don’t need to worry about that now. Be sure to radio in?”

 

Jennifer glanced back at the others checking out their bikes and thought about the distance she’d have to travel which probably wasn’t far, then considered the intent behind his question. “I’ll probably be one of the first ones back.” She smiled and said, “I’ll let you know if I’m going to be late. Don’t worry.”

 

“What, me worry?” he asked, smiling.

 

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Just how well did Jennifer know Gundar?

 

Jon thought through what he knew or had heard about Gundar. He was famous or perhaps infamous about recruiting the best fighters he could, even from other Resistance groups. What was the name of his second-in-command? Polarski?  He’d been a successful ground commander for Colonel Kleiberg from the Texas Defense Squad. The medical officer had worked with the Third Pennsylvania during the Metal Wars. His tactical officer had once been with the Washington Command that protected D.C. until Dread’s forces finally overwhelmed them, costing Dread tens of thousand of biomechs to gain that victory.

 

Had he ever tried to recruit Jennifer? Jon grinned at that thought. Gundar didn’t have any type of aircraft. As good a soldier as Jennifer was, as adept at tactical systems as she was, she would have considered having no aircraft as a negative recruiting point.

 

Thank goodness for that.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Flying on his skybike with Freedom One riding behind him, Jon was reminded of the import of their mission. All the major Resistance groups joined together, sharing resources, working as a large army instead of separate guerilla groups losing more battles than they were winning? And with him as the leader? Of course, most groups had worked with another group from time to time over the years. The fighting was too much and too big for one group to act alone all the time. He and Cypher had joined forces on more than one occasion. Blaze and Evanier had worked together once or twice. His team had never worked with Evanier, but Cypher and Blaze had worked with him. For the short term, they could work as unified groups, but the long term?

 

Could this actually work?

 

“I’ve never seen a transport like this before,” Freedom One said, interrupting his thoughts and trying to start a conversation. “It’s very maneuverable. What do you call it?”

 

“A skybike,” he told her. “My father designed it.”

 

“It’s fast! Can it outfly Soaron?”

 

Should he tell her that kind of information? Something seemed not quite the way he was expecting, as if some internal warning system was telling him to not say too much yet. Why was that? “I hope that’s not something we ever have to find out,” he hedged.

 

“By the way, my real name is Christine Larabee,” Freedom One said. “How about you?

 

She was trusting him with her real name? Okay, he would go that far. “Jonathan Power.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

He could almost ‘hear’ her grinning. He’d been asked about his name countless times over the years, same as Stuart had. Finally, he started quoting the same thing to people that his dad had said. There used to be a well-known Hollywood actor named Tyrone Power. Maybe we’re related to him somehow.

 

It wasn’t true, but it stopped further comments.

 

“I thought that was some kind of silly codename like Freedom One,” she continued.

 

He smiled and shook his head. Time to get down to business. “How much further to the meeting point?”

 

“About ten klicks east. I think you’ll recognize it.”

 

He followed the path, seeing nothing but a destroyed wasteland below. Remains of buildings, of settlements. Massachusetts held a particular spot in history, including Colonial American history. Boston, Concord, Lexington, the Revolution... now, so much was gone. The truths, the myths, the legends, the past swept away by bombs and war and time. He’d traveled with his parents to Massachusetts when he was younger. Where had they visited? Some laboratories? They’d gone in the fall, and some of those memories of the sights were still with him, but nothing he saw below the skybike looked like the brilliant green or the autumn vibrancy he remembered. Everything was gray and crumbling.

 

“In the next valley,” Christine pointed toward a darker area just ahead of them.

 

Jon slowed down and flew in low over the ground. He landed on the rise above the construction. It was a former observation outpost that had been refitted to be a communications hub and troop barracks for Dread’s forces before the wars officially started. Something had happened early on, something no one knew about that caused Taggart to abandon it. Rumor was that he’d gotten what he was searching for and didn’t have a need for the outpost any longer. “I do recognize it. Very clever, Christine. This Dread base was abandoned during the Metal Wars.”

 

“Which means Dread won’t be monitoring it now.” She pointed toward the structure. “Shall we?” she asked as she began to walk down the rise. “I’ve used it as a place to hide a few times over the last few months. It’s equipped with the basics so it should suit our purposes.”

 

So she had a base of her own to hide in. He’d never considered if she had a home base or a safe house of any kind. Up until that day, she was only a voice, not a person. Jon began to wonder about other aspects of her life, how she survived, how she escaped. He’d never considered what could happen to someone who ‘talked’ revolution as opposed to someone who actually fought the revolution.

 

Jon glanced around them and saw nothing to give him any alarm. There was no movement, no indication that anyone else was around. Still, he drew his weapon as he followed. Something was wrong. Who was that comic book hero who had a type of extra sensory perception? Spiderman? What was it he would say? His spidey senses were tingling?

 

Well, it’s sounded like something Scout would say if he had been there.

 

“Relax, Captain,” Christine laughingly admonished him. “It’s just us here.”

 

“Habit,” he answered as he reholstered his weapon. “You can never be too careful.”

 

They entered the building and walked into a large control room. To the side were the computers that controlled the facility. In the center stood chairs, a table with map rolls and a thermos. She had already made a ready welcome for everyone. Had she just assumed that everyone would come to the meeting? What if he hadn’t agreed? Wasn’t that being a bit presumptuous?

 

She must have been gone longer than a day, so wouldn’t the coffee have gotten cold by then? If it was coffee in that thermos, that is.

 

Perhaps the one thing that proved she’d been using it as a pseudo-base of operations and hiding spot was that there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Not on the equipment, the table, the walls or the floor. Everything was meticulously clean. Almost a regimented cleanliness. Something about that made Jon wary. An outpost abandoned for years would have been dirty and dusty and dilapidated from non-use.

 

Christine removed her backpack and placed it on the table. “This thing gets heavier by the minute. I’d better get on the monitor. You stay here and watch the transmitter? I’ll let you know as soon as your people arrive.”

 

Again, something began to bother him. “I’d better go with you.”

 

She chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m a big girl. Besides, the transmitter’s more important.”

 

More important? He took hold of her arm. “Don’t ever say that, Christine. Not even as a joke.”

 

She looked confused. “Say what?”

 

“Never say a machine is more important than a human.” In part, it was his true belief that no machine was more important than a human. Even Mentor, the last remnant of his father, wasn’t more important to him than one of his team. In another way, it was a knee-jerk reaction. After hearing what Jennifer had been taught as a child and watching what she had to go through to destroy every foundation of those teachings in her understanding of the world, he wouldn’t let anyone even hint of a machine being more important than a human life. It had become part of the foundation of his personality in the past few years.

 

She smiled as she reached up and stroked his chin. “You’re an innocent, you know that?”

 

That amused him. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was innocent. “Innocent? I’ve been called a lot of things, but --”

 

She placed a finger over his lips. “Oh, I know,” she nodded. She was flirting with him. “You’ve seen a lot. Been through hell. But it’s still there. Even after everything, it’s still there.”

 

Her voice sounded surprised. Was she surprised to find that someone still had hope, something she talked about on the radio all the time, and confused it with innocence? He knew the stakes of the war as well as anyone, but he still held out hope that one day, someday, it would all be over. That wasn’t innocence.

 

She placed her hand on his chest plate, let it slide down to the design before walking off toward the monitor room, leaving Jon alone.

 

Something was bothering him, and if there was one thing he’d learned in all his years of fighting was never to ignore that sixth sense that said when something wasn’t right.

 

Okay, so what was wrong with this picture? What were his senses telling him?

 

He checked his chrono. The others would have reached their destinations by now. They should be checking in soon. Not long after that, all the leaders of the five major Resistance groups plus his own team would be under the same roof at the same time...

 

Perfect time for an ambush.

 

But Freedom One had arranged everything. She was the Voice of the East Coast Resistance. She was trustworthy.

 

So what was bothering him?

 

Was it because he was used to everything being a struggle and this should-be-difficult arrangement seemed to have been pulled together with extremely little difficulty? It was all falling easily into place, and he wasn’t used to that?

 

Then there was Christine herself. He couldn’t ignore the fact that she was a very compelling, striking woman, but she wasn’t like he thought she would be after talking to her over the communicator and listening to her broadcasts. Her entire persona seemed different from what he’d expected. There was less... warmth... than he’d expected. No vulnerability.  True, she was flirting with him and at an earlier time in his life, he might have responded, but that wasn’t the only issue. It was as if Freedom One was one person and Christine Larabee was another.

 

And even though he had no reason to distrust Freedom One, he wasn’t sure about Christine Larabee.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Dread sat in his throne room, waiting. The alert went out. He heard it on his own radio. The torch was lit. The leaders should be on their way. Then why didn’t Larabee report in? She was to make contact with him as soon as Power and his team were sent off to get the leaders.

 

So did that mean they didn’t go get the leaders?

 

Or did that mean that she wasn’t alone and couldn’t report in?

 

If everything worked according to plan, she should be at the communications hub. He could wait.

 

He read through the latest Intelligence reports. The Resistance was causing havoc with his forces as usual. His forces were striking back. Casualty lists were...

 

Wait.

 

Gundar had been killed in an attack?

 

He double-checked the source of the Intel. One of his observation drones had sent the report. It had trailed along behind a recon troop that tracked down one of Gundar’s satellite bases. The biomechs were destroyed, but Gundar was killed. This might pose a problem with the timing of the plan Larabee was putting into place.

 

Dread read through the rest of the intel. The facial recognition program indicated that the second-in-command was Elzer Polarski, a former ‘guest’ of one of Dread’s interrogation rooms. He pulled up the datafile on Polarski and read through what little was known about him...

 

He needed to contact Larabee immediately.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Something wasn’t right. Christine could sense it.

 

She already knew of the effect she had on males in the Wastelands. It was one of the aspects of her appearance that she had been warned about when she was training for the mission. Wastelanders gave in to their baser instincts. They didn’t hold them in check the way the Dread Youth were taught to do, and men would find her attractive. It was a weakness she would use repeatedly to survive in the Wastelands, and it had proven successful. Observing organic behavior had become very informative. Males reacted one way to her, females in another way. Sometimes positive, sometimes negative, sometimes in ways she had no way of understanding.

 

But she had an effect on Power. A positive one. She saw his responses to her slight overtures. She followed Dread’s advice to be strong and straightforward but not too overt. He seemed, what was a good word -- intrigued? He had smiled at her when she called him innocent. Or was he smiling at the idea of anyone calling him an innocent? Despite her training and the behaviors she’d witnessed since she’d been away from Volcania, Wastelander behavior was still strange. And Power? He was confusing. She’d heard of his reputation over the months. If they were true, then he wasn’t an innocent in any sense of the word, but he was an obscure individual. There were stories about him, but few truths were known. No one had known if his name was actually Power or if that was a code name. No one knew where his base was. No one knew how he recruited his team. It was mostly rumor and speculation and folklore that Christine had had to unweave to try to get a better understanding of Captain Jonathan Power.

 

When logic failed to give her answers, she trusted her instincts. 

 

He was an idealist, that much was obvious. His thought processes were not linear, they seemed more collective and inductive. He could see the entire problem in a mere moment and all the avenues leading to and from any decision. That was the key. She had to keep him from ‘seeing’ all the different contingencies of a plan. He had to see her plan as the only plan. That meant moving fast and not giving him time to analyze the various aspects of the plan.

 

Initially, her plan of splitting up the Power Team was to get Power alone and lessen their capabilities. It would also allow her to get all the pieces of the trap in place one at a time without interference and without anyone questioning her. She could slowly seduce Power, but he hadn’t responded quite the way she had expected him to, the way she needed him to in order for the trap to work. So what wasn’t right?

 

Wait… had any of them men responded to her in the way she’d become accustomed to? They did seem somewhat… was reticent the correct word? They didn’t behave as if they trusted her.

 

And Chase? The moment Christine saw the traitor, she wanted to execute her for treason. How could anyone turn their back on the Machine? Chase had grown up and trained in Volcania. She knew the truth of the Body Electric. She was the epitome of the Dread soldier. She was immortalized in memory as a martyr. Youth Leader Jennifer Chase was an inspiration to the cadets.

 

A brief thought flashed through Christine’s mind. Although she was older than Chase, she had always seen the younger woman as a role model. A mentor. 

 

A hero. 

 

Chrstine was angry at herself for every idolizing Chase. The Dread Youth weren’t supposed to have individual heroes. They were to put their trust in Dread and the Body Electric, but Christine had to admit that she had admired Chase for her accomplishments. Top of all her classes, youngest youth leader, then on to become the youngest overunit…

 

Everything Christine had wanted as a loyal Dread soldier had been patterned on Chase’s military  path. Then she met her “hero,” and Chase was nothing more than a traitor. Joining the Empire’s greatest enemy, fighting Lord Dread, she deserved a traitor’s death, and with a little luck, Christine would get the privilege of dealing with her.

 

She entered the monitor room with those thoughts running through her mind. She needed to know when the pawns would be appearing in her trap.

 

She charged the monitor as a familiar voice sounded through the small room.

 

“Good evening, Freedom One.”

 

What was he doing?

 

She couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. “Contacting me here like this threatens everything. In an hour, we will have them all in our hands. The five leaders, Power and his group. All of them! I have spent months building up my reputation and my credibility, and now --”

 

“You question my judgment, Overunit?”

 

What was SHE doing? She didn’t dare raise her voice to Lord Dread! He was her leader. Her behavior was more Wastelander than Dread Soldier. She suddenly realized she was behaving like the person she was pretending to be in order to do Dread’s will. She quickly backtracked. “Forgive me, my lord. It was only my dedication to your divine plan.”

 

The hologram nodded. “Such devotion to the Machine is commendable; however, it was necessary that I speak with you. There is a new development, and I could not risk a message while you were with Power. I had to wait until the sensors indicated you were alone.” He pointed toward the console’s screen. “Do you recognize this man?

 

Did she recognize him? Of course, she did. “Elzer Polarski. He was captured a few years ago, and I took part in his interrogation. I didn’t realize he had survived it.” He shouldn’t have survived it. Few could survive that type of intense questioning. “Did he escape?”

 

“Escaped or was rescued. What is known is that Gundar was killed. Elzer Polarski is now in command of his Resistance team.”

 

What? “Then he’ll be coming in Gundar’s place? The minute he sees me--”

 

“An unfortunate coincidence, but one that we will deal with,” Dread’s voice sounded calm, sure and not worried. “Which of Power’s team is flying him in?”

 

Perhaps they could deal with two situations at once. What was the Wastelander saying? Kill two birds with one stone? “The woman called Pilot. The one who deserted the Dread Youth and betrayed the will of the Machine.”

 

Was that a smile on Dread’s face? “For which she will die. That is the fate of all traitors and rebels.”

 

Ah. It was a smile of satisfaction. “Then I will act accordingly,” she promised.

 

“Time it well, Overunit,” Dread cautioned her. “Blastarr will be there very soon with a squadron of biomechs. I will have him intercept her first at the coordinates you choose. We do not want any surprises.”

 

“I understand, my lord. Praise the Machine. Glory to Lord Dread.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Dread sat down on his throne, actually pleased. The traitor would be traveling with Elzer Polarski. Both would be dealt with, the traitor would be punished. He was still in contact with Larabee, waiting to see events transpire as he wanted.

 

He pressed a button on the nearby console. The observation drone that had transmitted the information about Gundar was still at the Resistance base. It was not functioning at 100%. A quick diagnostic showed that it had been damaged in a firefight. Perhaps the one that killed Gundar? Regardless, it was still able to fly and track. The program ordering the drone to follow the leader would still be in force since Elzer was now the de facto leader of that particular group.

 

Soon, Polarski would be stopped, and the traitor Chase would be dead.

 

Unless she had more value as his prisoner...

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

One by one, each member of the Power Team retrieved the individuals they were sent after.

 

Tank landed his skybike outside Cypher’s East Coast base. It had once been a county jail that had been almost demolished by bombing runs. The basement was more like a well-shielded bomb shelter that Cypher had refitted for his own purposes.

 

A flashlight was shining in his eyes. “Cypher? It’s me.”

 

The light suddenly stopped shining in his eyes and Cypher was there, smiling at him.

 

“Still big as a warbug and twice as ugly,” Cypher said, happy to see Tank.

 

Tank smiled. “Good to see you too, beanpole,” he said as Cypher climbed on his skybike.

 

Cypher gave his team the ‘okay’ sign and they slid back into the shadows. As much as Tank wanted to know who it was that he had lost rescuing Freedom One earlier, that moment wasn’t the time to ask. It might distract Cypher, and it might be a better idea to keep a focus on the upcoming meeting. He pressed the switch to let Freedom One know that his part of the mission had been obtained and watched as the coordinates appeared on the screen. He flew back towards the Boston area.

 

For his part, Scout landed a skybike outside what looked like a fire station. The nearby remains of a 21st century fire engine were still recognizable. The rest of the buildings were still somewhat intact. Obviously, that area had not been as hard hit during the Wars as other places had been.

 

“Blaze?” he called out.

 

Immediately, a familiar face came from the shadows. “Must be a member of Power’s team. No one else has these kinds of toys.”

 

He walked up to Scout and shook his hand. “Skybike,” Scout told him. “Gets about five hundred miles to the gallon in a fight,” he joked.

 

Blaze smiled and climbed on the bike. Without another word, Scout flew them toward the coordinates Freedom One sent them.

 

Hawk had no trouble finding Evanier. He ran his Resistance cell from a hydroponics lab near the Pennsylvania border. Before the Wars, he had worked as a chef in several five-star restaurants in New York. He loved to tell the story of how he had been preparing a wedding feast that included beef bourguignon and beef wellington when the first bomb fell outside the restaurant, shaking the walls and making a soufflé he had in the oven fall. Resistance units needed cooks, and there was safety in numbers so he joined up with one of the many cells cropping up around New York City. One by one, the senior members of the group were killed and eventually, he was the most senior member alive, and he was forced to take command. The truth was that he was good at it, and his group became one of the preeminent Resistance groups in the Northeast.

 

Still, to find Evanier, Hawk only had to follow his nose. The smell of something baking was in the air. Was that... chocolate cake? Where did someone get chocolate?

 

“Still need hobbies,” a voice echoed behind him. Hawk turned on the bike and saw Evanier approaching. “It can’t be all work and no play.”

 

“Guess not,” Hawk agreed. “Name’s --”

 

“Masterson,” Evanier finished for him. “Major Matthew Masterson, Air Force, codenamed Hawk.” He reached out to shake his hand. “Pleased to meet you. Met your captain once. And that tech specialist of yours. The one that cracks jokes all the time. What’s his name, Scout?”

 

Hawk laughed. “That’s him. Glad you could make the meeting.”

 

Evanier climbed on board the bike. “Let’s just hope we can get this to work. All the other times we’ve tried joining forces, it hasn’t.”

 

“We didn’t have Freedom One before,” Hawk told him. He radioed back to Freedom One that he had his charge, and the coordinates of where he had to fly to appeared on the screen. Time to go.

 

For Pilot, she knew the desolate area she was in pretty well. It was an area Gundar used to train troops. It was a survival course he laid out himself. It was out in the middle of nowhere so it was far away from the usual areas the prying eye-bots patrolled. It was perfect.

 

Knowing the area she was flying to was relatively safe, she hadn’t powered up her suit. She’d have to reactivate it once she picked up Gundar -- she had to have all her weaponry available to protect him if they ran into trouble.

 

Unarmored, she paced by her bike, waiting. It wasn’t like Gundar to be late. She checked her chrono again. Where was he?

 

Something moved in the shadows. People sneaked out of the fog, people Jennifer didn’t recognize. The last thing she needed was any misunderstanding at that point. “I’m here for Gundar.”

 

A young man wearing a uniform and a beret walked forward. “Gundar is dead. I’m Elzer, his replacement.”

 

Gundar was dead? Her friend? It must have happened recently, so it wasn’t common knowledge. She schooled her features so she didn’t show surprise. “I’m sorry. He was a good man.”

 

“He was,” Elzer agreed. “He spoke of you often. Talked about your flying skills and how he couldn’t recruit you to the team because he didn’t have a ship.”

 

Jennifer smiled at the joke. Gundar had never really tried to recruit her from Jon’s team. He knew she loved it there, but he had to save face with a little tall tale. She nodded her head toward the bike and Elzer followed her over.

 

Gazing at the transport, obviously impressed, he did ask, “We’re going on this?”

 

She nodded her head. “That we are.” She touched her actibadge, saying “Power on” as her uniform became armor.

 

Elzer looked her up and down, again, impressed. “Where can I get one of those?”

 

Jennifer pointed toward the bike. “Whenever you’re ready.”

 

So one by one, each member of the Power Team retrieved the leaders they had been assigned. All was going according to both of Dread’s plans.

 

The observation drone that had been present when Gundar was killed initiated the new protocol and followed Elzer as well as keeping a bead on Chase, but it was cloaked. No one saw it. No one saw that there was damage done to it in the firefight against the biomechs and Gundar’s people. No one saw the frayed wires sticking out of its chassis, sparking as the power began to discharge. It could no longer transmit internal status reports to Dread.

 

Yet the order was there... the new program Dread wrote...

 

The new program that was now scrambled into new orders in the drone’s database thanks to the damage inflicted on it.

 

‘Follow the Resistance leader with Power Team transport. Priority: Chase the Youth Leader Jennifer to ground once leader is delivered. No other Machine to intercept.”

 

It searched its database, scrambled though it was, and noticed that there was ‘Overunit’ Jennifer Chase listed in the directory, and the organic in question matched the facial recognition database, but who was Youth Leader Jennifer?

 

Despite its confusion, the observation drone followed the skybike in order to complete its mission.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

“We are receiving Pilot’s signal, my lord,” Larabee announced to Dread’s hologram. “She has Elzer Polarski.”

 

“Good. Send her the new instructions, and I will have Blastarr there to intercept them.”

 

Immediately, Larabee contacted Jennifer. “Pilot, this is Freedom One. I’m transmitting your rendezvous coordinates now. Please acknowledge.”

 

Over the speaker, Larabee heard, “Acknowledged. New coordinates received and locked in. We’ll see you soon.”

 

Larbee turned around and saw the Dread hologram accessing a reader. Where had that come from? “I’ve sent her to a location less than a quarter mile from here. She will be there soon. You must act quickly, my lord.”

 

“I have contacted Blastarr. He will deal with the treacherous Youth Leader Chase and Polarski and make his way to your location. There will be no time for the Resistance leaders to react. Be ready to signal his troops the moment our rebel flies are within your web to coordinate.”

 

“Understood, my lord.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Jon didn’t hear anything coming from the monitoring station where Christine was. What was going on?

 

His communicator dinged for his attention. “Hawk reporting. Come in, Jon.”

 

Jon quickly answered. “How far out are you?”

 

“We just landed. We’re using one of Dread’s abandoned stations?”

 

“It’s got all the comforts of home, sort of.”

 

“I know that tone. What’s wrong?”

 

“Not sure. Get in here quick. Something’s just not right.”

 

There was a pause, then Hawk said, “Scout and Tank are only minutes away as well. Should we come in together?”

 

Should they? “No. Any sign of Jennifer?”

 

“Not yet. Why?”

 

“She said she’d probably be the first one back, and she’s not here yet.”

 

“She’s friends with Gundar. They might be catching up.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Within a few moments, Hawk entered the building with Evanier close behind.

 

“Evanier,” Jon greeted him with a handshake. “Good to see you here.”

 

“You too, Captain.” Then he spotted the thermos on the table. “Coffee?”

 

Jon shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. I’ve been on guard so I haven’t checked.”

 

“Think I will,” Evanier mumbled as he walked off.

 

Jon pulled Hawk aside and said in a low voice, “I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s wrong here.”

 

Hawk looked around. At first, he didn’t seem to notice anything, then -- “This place is incredibly clean, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t expect that out of an abandoned base.”

 

“Christine’s been using it as a temporary shelter for a while now.”

 

“Christine?” Hawk asked.

 

“That’s Freedom One’s name,” Jon answered. “Christine Larabee. And this place is clean. It’s almost --”

 

“Military,” Hawk finished for him. “You don’t see something like this these days outside of a Dread troop barracks.”

 

That was it! That was what was bothering him! When Jennifer had first joined them, her quarters were always impeccably clean. It was a leftover condition from her time in the Dread Youth. Even now, everything was always orderly, but she could occasionally be counted on to toss her jacket on a chair or her shoes across the room. A Dread soldier was told that orderliness was next to Machineliness, that to clutter a room meant cluttering of the mind, something that was not allowed in forced orderly, logical world Dread had created.

 

“Stay close to Evanier. I think things just took a turn for the worse.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

The location Freedom One sent Jennifer to was definitely not designed to hold a meeting of any importance. Too much debris, too many fallen buildings, few solid shelters -- there were few good defensive positions and too many areas to get boxed in without a way of escape.

 

Jennifer walked the perimeter as Elzer stood by the skybike. There was no one there. Were they early? “This is a strange place for a meeting,” Jennifer muttered to herself.

 

Elzer kept glancing around, obviously as uneasy as Jennifer. “These are the coordinates Freedom One sent you?”

 

“I double-checked them when we landed,” she assured him. “This is the place.”

 

The coordinates had seemed somewhat... off. Jennifer couldn’t say why. Then again, the entire location seemed to be disturbing her for some reason that she couldn’t name. Back at the base, the map of Massachusetts sparked some kind of emotion, but she couldn’t decipher it. What was it that was bothering her? It was a like a memory she couldn’t quite remember.

 

Elzer nodded. “So where is everyone?”

 

“Let’s find out.” Jennifer reached for her communicator --

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

-- Christine watched as the monitor indicated Blastarr was in position.

 

From Volcania, Dread saw the same intel on his monitor.

 

The traitor was in their grasp.

 

And more of the Resistance leaders had arrived in the facility.

 

Both could feel the anticipation --

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

FOOTSTEPS!

 

Jennifer shouted, “It’s a trap!” as she drew her blaster and fired at the looming Blastarr. Elzer fired as well, his shots hitting their target but nothing was stopping the biodread. There was a wall behind them, there was no way to escape!

 

Blastarr kept approaching, each step slamming into the earth. “Foolish organic!” Blastarr could have sneered if he had been in any way alive. He trained his weapon on Elzer and fired in a swooping move, but Jennifer dove in front of her charge, taking the brunt of attack. They fell to the ground, but quickly recovered.

 

Her suit beeped, alerting her that her power was draining more.

 

“Stay down,” she ordered Elzer as Blastarr aimed both weapons at her and fired. His aim was atrocious, but his shots hit the wall behind them. The bricks imploded inward. Jennifer jumped over Elzer, covering him with her armor to protect him. The bricks and debris fell on them, burying them, rocks and stones and old concrete, the weight pressing them down into the dirt...

 

Above Blastarr, unknown to him, the observation drone silently watched. Its scrambled orders that said Priority: Chase the Youth Leader Jennifer to ground once leader is delivered. No other Machine to intercept was now its only function. The leader was delivered to the coordinates. Youth Leader Jennifer was now chased to ground. Now the drone had to stop Blastarr from intercepting the organic and taking it to Volcania. It was to remain where it had been chased to ground for Lord Dread to take possession. No Machine could take her from that spot. Its sensors showed that they were still alive under the rubble. The drone emitted a small masking field which hid the lifesigns of the two organics so Blastarr would believe them dead.

 

Then it registered Blastarr’s voice reporting to base. “Blastarr to Lord Dread. Organics terminated.”

 

Good. The biodread believed the ruse.

 

“Excellent,” Dread’s voice sounded over the communicator.

 

“Proceeding to designated target,” Blastarr announced as he wheeled away toward the communications hub where the Resistance leaders were now massed. Knowing that its primary mission was fulfilled, the observation drone followed Blastarr. After all, since no machine was to intercept, the drone was a machine so it had no further purpose at that location, and following Blastarr was as good an option as any.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Christine allowed herself a satisfied smile as she watched the visual feed of the wall falling in on them. “Sweet dreams, traitor,” she taunted, angry at herself for ever allowing herself to think that Chase was worthy of her admiration. “Confirming the readout from the observation drone…. she’s dead, my lord,” she announced to the hologram behind her.

 

“Good. One problem dealt with. Now return to your mission, Overunit, and do not disappoint me.”

 

“Never, my lord,” Christine saluted him as the hologram disappeared.

 

She pulled a timing device from her pocket and pressed a button. The device sent the signal to Blastarr that everything was in place for his attack.

 

Yes, all glory to Lord Dread and long live the Machine. She was about to deliver the greatest enemies of the Machine Empire to Dread.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

There was movement. Blocks shifted and rocks fell as something moved underneath them. A bruised and bloody Elzer crawled from the wreckage, his uniform torn and ripped.

 

“Pilot?” his voice was scratchy. Immediately, he began to shift the rest of the rocks off his traveling companion until he’d cleared enough away to be able to gently turn her toward him.

 

“Pilot?”

 

She was alive. She was breathing, but she was unconscious. She’s taken the entire force of the blocks falling on them. She’d been hit by Blastarr’s shots. How was she still alive?

 

A voice came from her communicator. “Power level at 10% of maximum and dropping. System destruction imminent.”

 

Again, Elzer tried to rouse her. If Blastarr came back and she was unconscious... “Pilot?”

 

Again the voice spoke. “Warning. Total systems failure.”

 

Sparks suddenly fired from her suit. Elzer backed away as the armor made a sizzling sound and disappeared before his eyes. He checked her pulse... yes, good, strong, still beating. She was breathing, but there was a hitch. Broken bones? No real way to tell, and if that metal monster returned...

 

Elzer made the only decision he could. As gently as he could, he placed his hands under Pilot’s shoulders and pulled her the rest of the way out of the debris.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Scout slapped the side of his communicator. “Nothing, Captain. She’s not answering.”

 

Jon was now officially worried. Jennifer should have been the first person back, but now she and Gundar were the only ones not there. When Tank had arrived with Cypher, seeing Cypher happy at the prospect of a united Resistance or saying it was a great day for them hadn’t distracted him for a moment.

 

Tank walked up to Jon. “Anything wrong, Captain?”

 

“Pilot. She should have been here before you.”

 

“Not to worry, Captain,” Christine said as she entered the room, smiling at the group as she was greeted by all of them. “Gundar’s people just tripped in. There was a slight delay, but she’ll be here soon.”

 

Cypher called from across the room. “We need to wait for Gundar before starting the meeting,” he said.

 

“I agree,” Evanier supported him. “Besides, how often is it we get to sit down and talk with each other just for the fun of it? Hey, has anyone heard that there’s a restaurant at the Passages now? Five star variety, I hear. They’ve built a movie theater, picnic area...”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Jennifer woke to a pounding head and a voice calling out, “Pilot? Can you hear me?”

 

Yes, she could hear him. She opened her eyes and forced herself to sit up... slowly. It felt like someone had kicked her in the ribs. Repeatedly.

 

“Pilot?”

 

She waved her hand dismissively at Elzer. “I’m all right,” she muttered. Then she noticed her armor was gone. “What happened?”

 

Elzer helped her stand as he explained. “Blastarr showed up and fired at us. You protected me when the wall fell. Then your armor just disappeared. Does it always do that?”

 

She smiled wryly. “It’d be inconvenient if it did.”

 

Blastarr. Blastarr had been there... at the rendezvous point Freedom One had given them. But then where were the others? They should have been redirected to that location. “Have any of the others shown up?” she asked, already suspecting the answer but just needing to hear it said out loud.

 

“No,” Elzer explained. “Could Blastarr have already dealt with them?”

 

Jennifer shook her head. “No, they were never sent here. There’s no sign of them. We were though. But why would Freedom One send us here?”

 

“Could she have been tricked?” Elzer asked. “Or maybe Blastarr overheard the coordinates?”

 

“Secure line. Even if he tracked the origins of the signal, he wouldn’t have heard what was being said,” Jennifer countered as she looked around. They were still in the same location, the skybike still sheltered nearby. “Wait, Blastarr fired on us, crashed a wall in on us and then just left? He wouldn’t do that.” She started to walk toward the skybike when her leg almost went out from under her. Elzer moved quickly, grabbing her arm and keeping her upright.

 

“Maybe he thought we were dead?” Elzer suggested as they slowly made their way over to the bike.

 

“His sensors would have indicated otherwise,” Jennifer began to think out loud. “He should have made certain we were dead, but why didn’t he? And the biomechs should have known if there were any lifesigns... unless there was something interfering with their sensors?”

 

She immediately stopped walking and removed a small handheld device from her belt.

 

“What is that?”

 

“Frequency detector, among other things,” she said quickly. “I’m picking up a residual jamming frequency.”

 

“A jammer?” Elzer sounded absolutely incredulous. “But the Resistance is the only one who uses those, and they’re not very successful. The biomechs can change the frequencies their systems use if they detect one.”

 

“This is a new one,” she explained. “I’ll get it to Scout. Right now, we’ve got to find the others.”

 

“Contact them?” Elzer suggested.

 

“Not with the biomechs around. They’ll track us even if we scramble the transmission...” What was she going to do? Her head felt like someone playing the 1812 Overture between her ears. Had the blast from Blastarr been that powerful? She needed to think straight. How could she find the others without contacting them?

 

Then she saw the skybike...

 

Skybikes had a unique internal computer system. Given their particular design, they ran on programs that were independent of the jumpship and even Mentor himself. Maybe, just maybe, if any of the other skybikes were in operation, she could somehow home in on it with her skybike? Maybe she could get her skybike to ‘talk’ to one of the other skybikes?

 

Accepting Elzer’s help, she limped over to the skybike and climbed on.

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“Find my team,” she said quickly.

 

She started a computer search for similar subroutines found only in another skybike...

 

“Found them!” she almost shouted. “They’re less than a klik away. Blastarr could be there by now.”

 

Elzer climbed on the seat behind her. “Can you fly this thing?”

 

“My team’s in trouble. I’d crawl there if I had to.”

 

Elzer checked his blaster. She heard a new clip being loaded. “Let’s get going then.”

 

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Slow moving moments kept creeping by for Christine. Where was Blastarr? It shouldn’t take the biodread that long to get to the facility... then she thought about the location where she had set the ambush for Pilot. The paths leading from that site to the facility were fraught with wreckage and destroyed buildings, the remains of the Old World. It would take Blastarr twice as long to navigate those paths than it would had he come directly like in the original plan. Still, he should be there at any moment. She needed to make a quick retreat.

 

Power was talking with the other leaders about... something called Rambo? Christine had never heard of that. Whatever it was, it had them making movements, as if portraying someone else’s actions using a bow and arrow. She had no idea what they were talking about, but it seemed like an apt time to leave.

 

She walked over to Power and said in a low voice, “Captain, they should be here any moment, and we don’t have time to waste. Why don’t you get the meeting started, and I’ll watch out for Pilot?”

 

Without waiting for an answer, she walked out of the room toward the entrance of the facility.

 

Once she was alone, she pulled the transmitter out of her pocket and again pressed the button. It indicated that Blastarr was very close. Success was --

 

Someone grabbed her hand and jerked her around. There was Captain Power, holding the transmitter and looking at her with an anger she’d never seen before.

 

He held up the device. He knew exactly what it was! He’d seen one before. She hadn’t taken that into consideration. “You want to explain this?” he glared at her.

 

“Certainly, Captain,” she said cooly, “but I’m afraid I haven’t got the time.” She pulled her blaster out of her pocket with an angry, “And yours has just run out!”

 

A blaster shot kicked the weapon from her hand. Jon immediately pulled his weapon on Christine and took a cautious glance in the direction the blast came from. It took every bit of self-restraint for Jon to not go to Jennifer when he saw her being held up by an individual he’d never seen before, but who he knew didn’t fit Gundar’s description. They were both hurt, their uniforms torn and dirty. They were bruised, and Jennifer was having some trouble standing on her own.

 

“Corporal Chase reporting, sir,” she said through clenched teeth.

 

She was hurting.

 

She was alive. Hurt, but alive.

 

Jennifer then purposely removed her arm from around Elzer’s shoulders and limped in under her own power. She kept her gaze directly on Freedom One. “Dread soldier?”

 

“Dread soldier,” Jon answered.

 

“I should have known,” Jennifer said to herself.

 

“Wait, I know her,” Elzer told them as he moved directly in front of Christine. “She’s an overunit. She led my interrogation when I was captured some years ago.”

 

“An overunit doing this kind of undercover work?” Jennifer said aloud. “Dread must have something special in mind for you.”

 

Christine refused to answer. Elzer pulled his gun and pushed Christine back toward the door leading into the facility. That gave Jon a moment to check on Jennifer himself.

 

“Are you all right?” he whispered.

 

She nodded, but he could see she was anything but all right. “Blastarr got the drop on us. He’s heading this way. We need to get everyone out of here.”

 

Her voice was rough. More proof she was hurting. Still, she was thinking of the mission first, herself second. That was Jennifer.

 

“Can you make it?”

 

She gave him that grin that he loved to see. “Just watch me.” Then, “I’m bruised, not beaten.”

 

“All right, but when we get back to base --”

 

“I know. Infirmary,” she said resigned.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

“I don’t like this,” Hawk muttered low to Tank and Scout. “Jennifer should be here by now. What kind of delay could Gundar’s people have had?”

 

Tank placed a placating hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “Perhaps he’s trying to recruit her?” he asked. “After all, he only goes after the best.”

 

Hawk chuckled. “Let’s hope not. After all the time and effort we’ve put into getting her and Jon together, I wouldn’t want to see anything separating them. Besides, Gundar doesn’t have any aircraft, does he?”

 

Scout chuckled. “Luckily for us, no.”

 

The door leading into the room opened, a stranger and Freedom One in the lead, Jennifer and Jon behind... and Jennifer was limping.

 

But it was the sight of the stranger holding a gun on Freedom One that got everyone’s attention. Cypher was the first to ask, “What’s going on, Captain?”

 

“It’s an ambush. It’s a setup. The whole thing.” He looked at Freedom One with contempt. “She’s a Dread overunit.”

 

“Overunit?” Cypher almost spat out the word. “I lost one of my people rescuing her --”

 

“From a fake fight she set up, no doubt.” Jon concluded. “She was using this.” He tossed a small device to Scout.

 

Scout knew exactly what the small machine was. “It’s a short range transmitter. Probably to pick up local transmissions from troops which means we’re in trouble.”

 

Without hesitation, everyone drew their weapons. These were soldiers who did know how to defend themselves.

 

“Then they’ll know they’ve been in a fight,” Cypher declared. He pointed his weapon toward Freedom One. “She can be the first to go.

 

“No,” Jon decided quickly. “We can’t afford a battle on their terms. We’ve got to get these people out of here.” He glanced back at Jennifer. She was still leaning slightly, still favoring her side, and her suit had no power. Jon was not going to see her put in a situation where she could be hurt further. “Pilot can you manage?” he asked low.

 

She glanced around before nodding her head. Jon knew that look. Even injured, she would fight. Even without armor, she’d stand her ground. Yet with all those leaders in their charge, whatever she wanted to do would take a backseat to what she had to do.

 

“Take them out the back way,” Jon ordered. “I’ll keep the Dreadies busy and make it out on foot later.”

 

Stay behind? Against who knows how many?

 

“Blastarr will be with them,” Jennifer said.

 

“I know.”

 

Without another word, Jennifer and the rest of the team began to usher the other leaders toward the back. Hawk rushed over to Jon. “We’ll never get back to you in time.”

 

“Then I’ll have the element of surprise on my side,” Jon said. He didn’t let Hawk argue further. “Now move it.”

 

Hawk took a deep breath. There was no other choice, not with the leaders there. They had to be taken to safety. “Now you heard the man!” Hawk shouted to everyone. “Let’s move it.”

 

Cypher came back with an encouraging, “See you soon, Jon. Give ‘em hell.”

 

Scout took custody of Freedom One from Elzer. “Can’t believe I actually wanted to meet you. You better come with me. What about her, Captain?”

 

What to do with her indeed. This was Freedom One. A national celebrity. “We’ll get her to the Passages. Their psych people might be able to get some information out of her.”

 

Scout pulled Freedom One out of the room, but she yelled as she left, “It is useless to fight. We will win! The will of the Machine cannot be denied!”

 

Hawk picked up Freedom One’s transmitter and said to Elzer as they walked out the door, “She’s heading for the Passages so she won’t be needing this.”

 

Alone, Jon drew his gun. Everything they hoped could happen, again, didn’t happen. Just like all the times before. “So much for innocence,” he said as he rushed out the opposite door to face whatever Dread forces were out there.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Clickers, Blastarr, an overunit, a trap... their luck was taking a nosedive.

 

They’d almost lost the major leaders in the Resistance.

 

Jennifer was so angry for not seeing through Freedom One’s charade, that her radio show was all part of the trap. She flew her skybike to a pre-arranged emergency Resistance rendezvous point, the others struggling to follow her defensive maneuvers. All she could think of was to do as Jon asked her -- get the Resistance leaders to safety, and then she was going back to get him. He was alone, fighting clickers and Blastarr. Those odds were bad even for someone with a powersuit.

 

She looked down and saw Sands’ emergency personnel transport they were giving aerial support for rolling along below them at full speed with Evanier and Blaze on board. Just ahead of them was a wide, flat area that would be a perfect landing field. She motioned for everyone behind her to follow her down. Then, they could regroup, reform and go back for Jon.

 

The transport quickly rolled into the zone, and the skybikes landed one by one, most of the riders dismounting.

 

“Damn,” Scout muttered. “I didn’t know these bikes could fly like that. Even Hawk had trouble keeping up with those maneuvers.”

 

Elzer quickly dismounted from behind Hawk and hoisted the radio on his shoulder. “Now what?”

 

“Now, we move even faster,” Tank answered quickly.

 

“Get all of you out of here and get back to Jon,” Jennifer said angrily, her gaze at Christine Larabee almost murderous.

 

Cypher was angry. The look in his eyes was pure rage. “How is it we didn’t know about her?” He pointed his thumb at Larabee. “How is it we weren’t warned about this being a trap? Where were our people on this one?”

 

Scout walked up next to Freedom One and looked her up and down. “You know, I was actually wanting to know who was behind the voice. Now, I can see you’re not too much to look at.”

 

Jennifer reached over to check her bike’s fuel and felt a sharp pain in her side. She placed her arm against her ribs, trying to quell the pain. It didn’t go unnoticed by others.

 

Hawk immediately walked up to her. “You’re hurt, kiddo,” Hawk whispered to her.

 

“A couple of ribs, that’s all, I think,” Jennifer shook her head. “I’ll be okay. We’ve got to go back for Jon.”

 

Hawk placed his hand alongside her face and tilted it toward him. He looked at her eyes, noticing something. “I think you’ve got a concussion,” he said. “What happened?”

 

Jennifer shook her head, but Elzer said, “We ran into Blastarr. She took a few direct hits from him and protected us both when a wall fell on us. Then her suit disappeared.”

 

Hawk glanced at Elzer and then gave Jennifer a stern look. “And you didn’t tell us this? I’ll go back for Jon. Your suit’s out of power, and you’re not at 100%.”

 

Sands stood at the top of her transport. “It’d be a better idea if we scatter. We could contact the UTO. They could transport us back to our regions in their transports.”

 

Looking around, Cypher pulled his gun from his holster and kept it at the ready as if he were expecting Blastarr to come around a corner. “I know some safe paths that can cut the distance even shorter. And there are some friends along the way that’ll be able to help us get back. What about Freedom One? If you want us to, we can get her to the Passages.”

 

Tank stood beside the angry looking overunit. “Alive?”

 

Cypher nodded. “She cost me one of my team, but I’ll get her there alive.” He walked up to her. “You’ll rot in jail for what you’ve done.”

 

“Not for long,” Larabee argued. “You will lose. The Machine Empire will prevail. We will --”

 

“Cleanse the non-believers,” Jennifer interrupted, her back to the group. “Lord Dread will lead us through the Transition. A new world will rise from the ashes of the old. The Machine, given unto man, will relieve us of our physical burdens... keep repeating the litanies,” she said as she slowly turned toward Christine. “Keep saying them,” Jennifer challenged her. “Say them enough times, you’ll believe them. You might get others to believe them. But guess what? It doesn’t make them true.”

 

“You betrayed Lord Dread,” Larabee hissed. “You turned your back on the Will of the Machine. A traitor. Joined with the Resistance. You are a mere speck against the greatness of the Machine, and you dare lecture me?”

 

Jennifer slowly walked over, forcing herself to not limp or hold her side. Damn, but she was hurting worse and worse by the minute. She might have tripped and fallen if Elzer hadn’t immediately moved next to her to put a steadying hand under her arm.

 

“I have every right to lecture you,” Jennifer hissed. “I used to be you. Then I saw the Dread Youth for what it was. What it is. The truth. I saw through the lies. I spend every single day of my life fighting Dread. I would gladly fight the machines until my last breath because I know the truth. And you? Believe me, I won’t waste one breath trying to convince someone as narrow-minded, short-sighted and as stupid as you that Dread has lied to us from the very beginning. You’re just not worth the effort.”

 

“I am a loyal soldier of the Machine,” Larabee almost yelled. “Those who are loyal will be eternal minds in undying metalloid bodies --”

 

“How?” Jennifer’s tone was flat and accusatory.

 

Christine stopped -- squinted her eyes and stared at her. “What?” 

 

Jennifer raised her head slightly, giving the impression that she was looking down her nose at Christine. “Think about it. How is your mind going to be placed in a metalloid body? It’s impossible to move someone’s brain physically. It’s too interconnected with the nervous system and every other system in our bodies. Our minds? How do you separate our minds from our bodies? Is it our consciousness? How can you separate that from the mind? I’ve seen what the transfer technicians do. What gets transferred isn’t the person. Have you ever asked yourself how it all works? And what’s so undying but a metalloid body? They’re metal. They break down. They have to be repaired. They rust. We blast them apart in every battle.” Jennifer moved right in front of her, almost nose to nose. “Think about it.”

 

Christine growled. “You speak treason.”

 

“Fluently,” Jennifer agreed readily. 

 

Christine, a few inches taller than Jennifer, used her height to its full advantage. She stood up straight, like she was trying to tower over Jennifer, using her height to intimidate. “Lord Dread will end you,” Christine warned.

 

Jennifer smirked. “You think he hasn’t tried time and again? Why do you think he hates us so much? We keep beating him. We keep embarrassing him,” Jennifer’s voice had taken on a taunting tone. “An overunit that turned against him? Notice how that’s not common knowledge among the Dread Youth ranks? And look at you. You had to be a teenager when Dread started destroying the world. You knew what it was like before. You weren’t stolen as a child and brainwashed into believing Dread’s lies. You’ve got no excuse for what you’ve done.”

 

“And what have I done?”

 

“You’ve willingly helped Dread destroy the world, and you did it with your eyes open.”

 

“Eyes open? I saw more than you think,” Christine taunted her. “Didn’t like I was going to kill that captain of yours, did you?”

 

Jennifer didn’t smile. She didn’t grin. She didn’t flinch or twitch. She said in a very low, serious voice, “Didn’t like it when I shot the gun out of your hand?”

 

“So you stopped me from killing him,” Christine pointed out. “What of it?”

 

“I’m an excellent shot,” Jennifer’s voice came very low and very menacing. “I hit what I aim at.”

 

“You’re one of Power’s soldiers, and Power doesn’t believe in killing other people,” Christine declared.

 

Then, in a rough, determined voice, Jennifer said, “I’m not Power.” 

 

There was a malevolent pause before Christine grew two shades paler, perhaps at the thought that a mere traitor to the Machine could have killed her if she wanted to.

 

~O~O~O~

 

Hawk glanced at Scout and Tank. All slightly shook their heads and shrugged. This was not the usual behavior from their pilot when talking to Dread soldiers. Normally, she would try to get them to see the truth, but this time? That was anger, resentment and, if no one was being polite, pure disgust and hate.

 

Any other time, they’d have enjoyed watching Jennifer verbally vivisect a Dread soldier, but they just didn’t have the time, and it was clear that Jennifer wasn’t interested. Jon was in trouble and Jennifer was wounded. Hawk clapped his hands together. “Okay. Changing the plan a little bit. We’ve got to move, we’ve got wounded and a prisoner and a soldier in trouble. I’ll go back to get Jon. Tank, go with Cypher and get Larabee to the transports. They’ll take her to the Passages. Elzer --”

 

“We’ll take care of ourselves. I’ll tag along with Sands and Cypher,” Elzer volunteered. “I think we’re all going in the same direction. And,” he pointed toward the transmitter, “I think there’s a new Freedom Two in town.”

 

“Blaze? Evanier?”

 

The two leaders shook their head. “We’ve got contacts in the area that can get us to the UTO transports. They’re not far.”

 

Jennifer tried to turn and walk back to her skybike and a sharp pain in her side stopped her. Elzer held her up. “She’s hurt,” Elzer told Hawk. “Bad.”

 

Hawk took hold of Tank’s arm and jerked his head toward Jennifer. Tank nodded. “Another change of plans. Blaze, Evanier, one of you needs to fly the other skybike while Tank runs guard.  Scout needs to get Jennifer to an infirmary. What’s closest?”

 

“There’s a hospital, east of here. Used to be Boston Public LIbrary,” Blaze answered quickly. “We’ll get a transport back home from there.”

 

“Okay, we have a plan.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Jennifer didn’t say anything, but she watched Hawk give his final orders. He needed to get back to the facility. He had to reach Jon in time.

 

The throbbing pain in her head was ramping up. She didn’t think she’d been hurt that badly. Suddenly, Scout was there, holding her steady but she felt like passing out. It had to be a delayed reaction, an adrenaline rush wearing off. She heard the others mention something about contacts being at Arch City, something about unifying their resources still being a good idea and then it all went dark.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

So Jon fought Blastarr and a squadron of troopers.

 

Then he destroyed all the biomechs, leaving Blastarr as the last mechanical creature standing.

 

He escaped through the roof, destroying more biomechs as Hawk showed up blithely asking him if he’d called a cab.

 

He’d survived a huge battle, but what was all that compared to what Hawk just told him?

 

“What do you mean she was hurt bad?” Jon asked loudly. “I thought she was just bruised from the battle. Limping a little.”

 

“She was holding her arm against her ribs and squinting her eyes. She basically told Christine she could have killed her and then she passed out, but she stayed awake long enough to get her point across,” Hawk answered back. “I mean, we’ve seen her take a pounding and still keep coming, but whatever hit her, hit her hard.”

 

“She was leaning on Elzer when she came back and saved me,” Jon pointed out. “Why didn’t I notice it was worse than that?”

 

“None of us noticed it because she was walking on her own when we left,” Hawk pointed out. “It doesn’t matter. I think it was a slow motion wound. We got her to a hospital in Boston. We’ll catch up with them there.”

 

“What about Larabee?” Jon shouted.

 

“Gave her to the leaders. They’ll get her to the Passages their way. Good thing, too. That way, none of us have to take her through a jumpgate.”

 

Jon didn’t care about jumpgates. Larabee already knew they had teleportation capabilities somehow, just not exactly what or where they were. Given how much they traveled, it was bound to not remain a secret forever. She would have already told Dread, wouldn’t she? Or maybe Dread had told her? Still, knowing that they had teleportation devices, jumpgates or otherwise, was a far cry from knowing where the jumpgates were.

 

But if Dread knew... they would have to change tactics.

 

So assuming that Dread knew about the jumpgates, the Resistance leadership almost destroyed... what the hell had he been thinking?

 

What had he been thinking?

 

Jon kept mentally kicking himself for being willing to do what a total stranger asked without checking the security himself beforehand. Sure, just get all the leaders of the five major resistance groups together based on someone else’s word. Someone he’d never met but only had exchanged a few comms with. Someone he had listened to on the radio and thought he could trust.

 

Where were his brains? Don’t answer that, Jon. You won’t like the answer.

 

He helped an overunit. He helped lead the highest Resistance personnel into a trap.

 

And they still weren’t united as a Resistance force.

 

Small guerilla units fighting independently without sharing resources...

 

They had to come together as a unified force if they were going to beat Dread, now more than ever. The problem was how. Dread knew about the radios, he knew how the masses were communicating, he had set up his own radio show...

 

Talk about irony. There was such symmetry between what had just happened versus what had happened years ago. Some resistance group had given out radios to try to unify the settlements in order to better fight Dread, but then they were systematically wiped out by Dread when he learned of it. Then Dread learned of the latest batch of radios and used their idea by only having one voice he controlled going out through to any radio, to anyone who would listen, unifying the Resistance forces just to set them up in a trap.

 

And he was more than willing to walk into her trap and lead others into it.

 

Where were his brains?

 

Jon liked to think he was a good judge of people, but the truth was that he got fooled. It didn’t happen all the time, but when the wool got pulled over his eyes, it got pulled down good.

 

He’d seen the truth in Jennifer the moment he laid eyes on her. He didn’t know the details, he didn’t know the circumstances, but he knew he wasn’t looking at a committed Dread Youth. He’d fought countless Dread Youth, seen many more, so how did Christine fool them all?

 

She had the act down perfectly. She even fooled Jennifer, and that was damn near impossible to do. She’d pick up on the small personality indicators emitted by the imposters. Usually, the tells were subtle. A way of standing, a form of speaking, the lack of a twitch, something ‘small’ and unnoticeable by others were red flags to her.

 

And Christine behaved like a wasteland survivor, not a Dread Youth imposter.

 

“Stop kicking yourself,” Hawk admonished him.

 

“I’m not.”

 

Hawk laughed. “Yes, you are. We all trusted her. We all took her at her word. And she was good. How else could she fool Jennifer? Elzer was impressed, that’s for certain. He told us that Freedom One had been part of his interrogation. That means she had to be a diehard Dreadie. To pull off what she did --”

 

“Speaking of --”

 

“Tune in to 150 megahertz.”

 

Jon adjusted his earpiece to receive the frequency, and Elzer’s voice came over the small speakers. “... won’t be back, but the voice of the Resistance will stay on the air. I make that pledge, and I mean to keep it. This is the new Voice of the Resistance. Freedom Two. And if anything happens to me, there’s going to be a Freedom Three. And Four. And Five. We didn’t start this war, but we’re going to finish it.”

 

So the new leader of Gundar’s team will now be pulling a second shift as Freedom Two? Elzer was going to be busy.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

The Boston “hospital” came into view.

 

“That’s it?” Jon asked. He’d never seen the site before.

 

“Looks like it,” Hawk told him. “It used to be the public library. Locals converted it to a hospital and a school some years ago. Dread has already bombed this area so many times, he probably thinks it’s unlivable and has left it alone. I’ve got a bead on the other bikes. Looks like they found cover for them. I’m going to let you go on in. I’ll catch up after I park.”

 

Hawk hovered just high enough off the ground so Jon could jump from the skybike and deactivate his suit. He walked quickly through the corridors, followed the signs that said “Medical Center This Way.” If he didn’t know that they were in a demilitarized zone, he’d have thought he was in a hospital from before the Wars. He passed by various individuals, all stopping to glance at him as he passed by. News of the attempt on the Resistance leaders and how they stopped it was already being talked about. There was no way to keep information like that secret. The news would have hit the airwaves already, but then again, it was another story of how Resistance forces defeated the best that Dread could throw at them.

 

Freedom Two was already making inroads with the listening public.

 

Now where was his team?

 

He kept on walking until he heard familiar voices.

 

“I keep wondering what happened between Jennifer and Elzer,” Tank’s voice was quiet. “He was being very...uh, friendly toward her. Did you notice?”

 

Scout looked back toward the exam rooms. “He said she saved his life. Got in between him and Blastarr when he shot at them and even took the brunt of the wall when it fell on them. He was impressed.”

 

“Larabee wasn’t. Did you see the look on her face when they were taking her away? She was still talking about how you can’t resist the will of the Machine and how we’re all doomed. You know, the usual spiel they speak.”

 

“Jennifer didn’t even try to convince her of the truth,” Scout pointed out. “I think that’s the first time she’s ever not tried.”

 

Tank chuckled. “That, my friend, is the sign that our pilot was very angry. That, plus... there was something in the way Jennifer looked at her. It was almost like...”

 

“What?”

 

“Remember the look she had in her eyes when she had to sneak into Medlab One? When she had to pretend to be a Dread soldier again and went in on her own?”

 

Scout nodded. “She hated putting on that uniform again.”

 

“She was seeing herself the way she could have been if she hadn’t realized the truth. I think that when she looked at Larabee, she was looking in a mirror and seeing herself if she never got out. It was the same look in her eye.”

 

“I didn’t think of that,” Scout admitted.

 

They hadn’t seen Jon walking toward them, but what they were saying -- Jon didn’t want to hear that. There was nothing similar about Larabee or Jennifer, even if he had thought something similar when he first made Freedom One’s acquaintance.

 

He hurried up to his friends. “How is she?” Jon asked.

 

His two teammates quickly stood the moment they heard his voice. “Beat up but fixable,” Scout quickly answered. “The doctor came out a little while ago and said that Jennifer had a cracked rib, a couple of bruised ribs in some not-so-good places, some other bruised bones, slight concussion, pulled muscles... basically, the suit protected her, shocked her when it shut down but she still got the crap kicked out of her when that wall fell on her. Their regenerator isn’t working too well, but they’ve got her in it to see if it can help. I think we’ll be here until morning.”

 

Jon breathed a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t know she was hurt that bad. She wasn’t acting like it.”

 

“Where’s Hawk?” Tank asked.

 

“Parking the skybike,” Jon explained. “What about --”

 

Scout quickly interrupted him. “All the leaders are safe. They’ve got Larabee, and Cypher has promised us that she’ll get delivered alive to the psych people at the Passages. We overheard a conversation from two of the hospital’s guards that they’re putting captured soldiers on a suicide watch in the prison wards.”

 

“Suicide watch?”

 

“Apparently, there’s a new directive from Dread we haven’t heard about,” Tank explained. “Any of his soldiers captured by the Resistance must either escape or ensure that they don’t divulge any information by any means possible. There are reports of some prisoners committing suicide.”

 

Jon sighed. “We’ll have to be in on her interrogation. I think she knows how we travel.”

 

Scout sighed. “You mean... specifically... how we travel? Not just guessing?”

 

“I’ve got a bad feeling,” Jon said. “I’m hoping that’s all it is.”

 

“I’ll start running diagnostics on the system again,” Scout volunteered. “Make sure it’s all secure. Maybe those anomalous readings I keep picking up may give us a hint. Jennifer and I can go over the details when she’s feeling better.” Scout chuckled. “Dang it all, Jon, we could use a day off, and I don’t think we’re going to get one any time soon.”

 

Jon nodded. “I know. You’re worried about these readings.”

 

“We shouldn’t be getting them,” Scout explained. “We’ve been so busy, we haven’t had the time to really study the sensor readings and figure out what’s going on.”

 

“Day off,” Jon smiled. “Yeah, we’ll have to arrange that.” Then he took a deep breath. “So, catch me up with the rest of it. Give me the details.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

2:00 a.m.

 

2:00 in the morning.

 

When did they invent a 2:00 in the morning? Shouldn’t someone have sent out a memo about that? Or, better yet, taken a vote? 

 

Hawk had spoken with the doctor and decided that there was no way he was going to allow Jennifer on a skybike. He flew back to the base so he could get the jumpship to carry their pilot back home. Scout and Tank had found a quiet spot to get some rest, but Jon was still too wound up. He was wandering around the hallways to walk off the extra energy when the doctor found him and told him that he could see Jennifer.

 

Whereas the corridors reminded him of a pre-war hospital, the examination rooms seemed more like something out of a temporary shelter. The ward he entered was sectioned off by cloth partitions. Each area had one bed, an IV stand, a stool that could fit under the bed and a water jug and cup on a makeshift shelf. A few areas were better equipped for more seriously injured patients, some with EKG monitors, one outfitted for emergency surgery. Jon walked by and glanced in each one looking for Jennifer. There weren’t many injured there. One burn victim, one with a broken arm, one post-surgery patient -- but most of the beds were empty.

 

Just as he reached a cordoned off area at the end of the row, he saw her lying on a regenerator bed, its power indicator showing it was working on low power, her hand on her forehead. He walked in and stood next to her bed, touching her arm to let her know he was there. He heard a mumbled, “Hey.”

 

“Hey,” he said as he took her hand, leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. He saw a few bruises forming that he hadn’t noticed before. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Not as bad as I was,” she said. “I think I felt my powerpack shock me before my suit shut down. That’s what did the damage. Sore muscles, a concussion ... nothing I haven’t had before.”

 

“It was a little worse than that,” he told her. Jon looked down at the regenerator indicator. Low power... that usually meant a power supply was going bad. Still, it could help heal her a little, enough to make the trip back to the base safely and get her into their own regenerator. “I’m glad they could get you into it quickly.” He took her hand in his and wove their fingers together.

 

Jennifer smiled slightly. “The doctor said they weren’t too busy.” She squinted up at him, frowning. “You okay? You look like you’re angry.”

 

“I am. Just kicking myself for being taken in by Christine Larabee. I still don’t know why I agreed to help her as quickly as I did.”

 

Jennifer moved slightly, wincing from sore muscles letting their unhappiness known. “It was a leap of faith,” she said.

 

“That almost cost us the major Resistance leadership and you.”

 

Jennifer smiled up at him. “You ought to know by now I’m indestructible,” she joked. “Besides, what’s a few bumps and bruises? We all get them.”

 

“You’ve been getting more than your fair share lately. In fact, you’ve had a lot of bad luck this year,” he said. He noticed the small stool sitting underneath the bed. He pulled it out and sat down. “Blastarr shot at you.”

 

“Not the first time,” she shrugged painfully. “Probably won’t be the last.”

 

“A wall fell on you.”

 

“Happened before. You took on Blastarr and some clickers. How did that go?”

 

She was diverting the conversation, pretending to not take her injuries seriously. It was old behavior. Jon knew there were times when falling back to previous behaviors was a coping mechanism and was the best way to deal with a situation.

 

He saw her wince in pain again. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” he murmured as he pushed her hair away from her face.

 

“Thank me for what?”

 

“Rescuing me. Again. Shot that weapon right out of Christine’s hand,” he said as he gave her a gentle kiss. His finger trailed down a small scar just below her jaw. New scar. Did that happen when the wall fell on her? “How about a new type of thank you?”

 

“New type?”

 

“I was thinking... dinner at the Passages when you’re feeling better? Just you and me? I recently heard a rumor about a new restaurant there. Maybe they have good food.”

 

Jennifer smiled. It was a bold question though. It would mean being seen together publicly. And if Dread had any spies around....

 

The state of their changing relationship hadn’t gone beyond the two of them -- despite what they were sure the rest of the team knew but didn’t talk about and what Christine Larabee had said. Were they ready to go someplace where people could see them? Could they pass it off to any passers-by that it was merely dinner between teammates?

 

The moment Jennifer smiled and said, “I’d love to,” Jon didn’t care if anyone saw them. The war shouldn’t take over every aspect of their lives, should it? There should be personal time, right?

 

Then Jennifer became overly quiet. If there was one thing that Jon had learned over the years, when Jennifer got that look on her face, it meant something far different than anything anyone thought. “Hey, what is it?”

 

She frowned. “I never saw it,” she muttered.

 

“Saw what?”

 

She glanced up at him, her eyes almost dark with doubt. “Nothing about her indicated she was a Dread soldier. Nothing. I’ve never seen that before. How did I not recognize her as one? Did I miss something or was she that good of an actress?”

 

“She was good at pretending,” Jon agreed.

 

Jennifer shook her head slightly, wincing at the slight pain the movement caused her. “No. Her posture, her movements, even her speech... nothing indicated she was working for Dread.” She waited a moment. “Think for just a moment. Every single soldier we’ve come across over the last few years -- they couldn’t behave like someone who lived in the Wastelands. They couldn’t assimilate the behaviors or the speech. And Christine didn’t talk like a Dread soldier.”

 

That definitely got Jon’s attention. “What do you mean?”

 

Jennifer chose her words carefully. “Remember when you met me? How I talked? How I had trouble carrying on a conversation about almost any subject? Tank described it to me once, about how my speech was mostly unemotional?”

 

Jon nodded his head. Then, she had struggled to learn to converse easily with others. Sharing in ordinary, inane conversation? Laughing at a joke?  Talking about nothing in particular just to pass the time of day? She’d had trouble at first, but eventually, she learned how to speak like others living in the Wastelands just by being around people and listening to them. More to the point, just by being around the team. It hadn’t happened overnight either. It had taken months before Jon had noticed a change in her speech patterns. Then what she said registered with him. “Christine didn’t speak like that.” How long had she been away from Volcania?

 

“No, she didn’t,” Jennifer pointed out. The regenerator made a sound, seemed to turn off and come back on -- definitely a power supply going bad. Jon saw her eyes squint slightly as the pain returned. “That means that she had been out here in the Wastelands for a long time. We’ve been listening to her on the radio for months. Not once during all that time did she come across as anything else other than a survivor. That might mean she’s lived out here for longer than she was broadcasting. She’s seen the truth of Dread’s lies. She’s seen people suffering and dying and surviving, and she is still loyal to Dread. How could anyone pretend that much or that well? And I didn’t see it. I didn’t recognize anything that would have given her away. I’ve never been fooled like that before.”

 

Jennifer wasn’t the only one fooled. Christine Larabee had fooled them all. Yet, the impact and the import of what Jennifer was saying did indicate a key element to their success as a team. Jennifer had always been able to spot Dread soldiers working undercover because she could recognize the signs before anyone else could. Christine got right past her radar. But there was one rule that Jon knew and had taken to heart long ago -- there was a first time for everything. “Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. She learned to mimic the speech patterns of people out here. She probably studied that before going undercover. And you were only with her a matter of minutes before you flew off to get Gundar. She didn’t do or say anything that would have alerted you, right?”

 

Jennifer shook her head. “No, that’s just an excuse --”

 

“No, it’s a reason,” Jon countered. “When I think back on some of the things she said, maybe I should have realized that she wasn’t all that she said she was. It was just a word here or there... I can’t really remember what, but when I think back on it, there were words in her conversation that you would have picked up on if you’d been there. I just wasn’t paying close enough attention.” He had the idea that there was something else bothering her, not just the fact that Larabee had gotten past her. “What is it?”

 

“I keep thinking that if I hadn’t seen the truth and stayed in the Dread Youth... that could have been me instead of her,” she said.

 

Jon took both her hands in his. “No, not you. You could never be anything like her.”

 

Jennifer smiled. “I was a true believer once, I bought into all the lies --”

 

“But you never set up a trap to murder people,” Jon pointed out. Before she could protest, he placed his finger over her lips and said, “And you know that’s not what you did at Sand Town. You saved lives where you could, and that wasn’t easy. Plus, as soon as you saw the truth, you turned your back on all of it. She didn’t. The only person whose fault this is, is hers. Not ours, and certainly not yours.” He paused, then, “I shouldn’t have been so willing to go along with her plan without looking closer at the details or considering the ramifications. I didn’t do my job on that, and we almost lost the main leadership of the Resistance.”

 

“It was a chance to strengthen our numbers,” she told him. “It was worth the risk -- if it had been the truth. How are the leaders doing?”

 

“From what Scout and Tank told me, Cypher’s not happy he risked his team to pull off a so-called rescue for Larabee. It cost him one of his people, and it wasn’t even real. The others began planning a few contingencies and maybe organizing another date for a meeting when we can discuss unifying our resources.”

 

Something else seemed to be bothering Jennifer. 

 

“This will hit everyone who listened to her pretty hard once they find out the truth.”

 

John sort of chuckled. “Maybe not. Your friend Elzer is on the air as Freedom Two. He told the listening public that Freedom One won’t be back, but he will and if necessary, there’ll be a Freedom Three and a Freedom Four.”

 

Jennifer frowned. “So no one other than us will know the truth?”

 

“I think the truth about Freedom One is what they used to call a public relations’ nightmare.” Seeing Jennifer didn’t understand the term, he just shook his head. “For now, it might be the best thing if no one else knows all of it. But the leaders know, they’ll undoubtedly tell their teams, eventually some parts of the story will get out, but it might take a while and by then, listeners will be trusting Elzer as Freedom Two.”

 

The regenerator thrummed, as if more power was being used. Jon noticed her pained frown lessen a bit. They could discuss everything later. “Why don’t you get some sleep? Scout said you’d be here until morning. Well, sunrise at least since it’s already morning. And it might help. We’ll talk later.”

 

She nodded. “I’m going to have to tell Hank about Gundar. They were friends.”

 

“Hank’s here on the East Coast, right?” Jon asked her.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Maybe the grapevine around here works pretty well. He may know by morning.”

 

“Maybe,” Jennifer answered lowly. She covered her mouth as she yawned.

 

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” he suggested again.

 

She nodded, closed her eyes and drifted off within minutes.

 

Jon sat there quietly, watching her. I could have lost her today, and it would have been my fault for falling headfirst into a trap, he thought. The leaders could have been killed, his team... and why? Because he didn’t use caution? Because he believed the proverbial snake oil Larabee was selling?

 

But if it had been real, if they had brought the teams together... not that the leaders couldn’t do that now. They didn’t need someone like Freedom One. The other leaders were willing to join forces. But were they only willing to do that if Jon took the lead? What was their opinion after everything that had happened? Would they still only join forces under that condition? And if they did, would Jon want to be the leader of the overall Resistance? He’d never sought that type of leadership role. He had his team, and they worked well together, but they were a small team. The entire Resistance... how many people did that mean? There were how many Resistance cells in the country? Small two-men units like Andy Jackson’s ‘team?’ Small units like his own? A few larger groups consisting of over twenty fighters? Some of the smaller cells would want to remain independent, but a united Resistance...

 

The very idea boggled the imagination.

 

The truth was that he didn’t want to lead that many soldiers. It meant a loss of maneuverability, a loss of efficiency and speed. All his tactics were geared around using those capabilities. Still, he would have risen to the occasion if he had to, but he had to admit to himself that he was relieved that it hadn’t come to that.

 

Not that he would admit that to anyone but himself.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

7:00 a.m.

 

And everyone was tired.

 

Too little sleep, too much intrigue, a flight, a fight, sitting at a hospital...

 

Scout had already said it the day before -- they needed a day off.

 

Hawk looked around the room. Everyone was just.... deflated. That was the word that came to mind. Their mission had been a bust, nothing had been done. It was the same-ole’/same-ole’ for a failed mission. Still, they had more checks in the win column, but this loss could have been devastating.

 

Scout was listening to some Intel reports, giving Tank a break from the long monotonous litany of the latest Dread updates. Tank was checking everyone’s weapons. Jon was keeping close to Jennifer, and Jennifer was sitting on the regeneration bed, still hurting and moving slowly. That meant it had been a good idea for Hawk to fly back to the base and get the jumpship so she could ride home in comfort rather than staying balanced on a skybike the whole way back. But where was that doctor? They wanted to know Jennifer’s condition before they left.

 

Watching Jon and Jennifer together, Hawk was certain that more was going on between them than just nightly chess games, only he didn’t know exactly how far it had gone. He had a few theories, but no facts. But in any case, all the stunts he, Scout and Tank had been pulling lately seemed to have had a positive effect in that relationship.

 

Plus, there was no way to know what stunts Jon and Jennifer had pulled to work on a relationship.

 

Scout pulled the microphone from his ear. “Story’s hitting the airwaves,” he said. “Not the whole truth, and no one’s saying anything against Freedom One. Just that there was an attack and Freedom Two taking her place.”

 

“Is Dread making any moves?” Jon asked.

 

“A lot,” Tank answered. “With this many major Resistance teams all on the East Coast, he’s trying to cause trouble back in the Midwest. Cypher called in, suggested we should go back in that direction. Get some boots on the ground.”

 

Hawk glanced at Jennifer who was being unusually silent. Jon helped her stand up, being expectedly over-concerned.  “You okay to travel?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Oh, Jennifer,” Scout got her attention. “Just got a tightbeam comm message from Hank. He’s in the area, said he was coming here...” he paused as he held the communicator out to her.

 

“How am I going to tell him about Gundar?” Jennifer muttered to herself as she took the device. “They were friends for years.”

 

“This way?” a deep, slightly gruff voice, somewhat familiar, sounded from outside echoed into the room. “But she’s okay?”

 

Jennifer glanced toward the door and then slowly turned. “Looks like I’ll get to do this in person.”

 

“That’s Hank?” Scout asked.

 

Jennifer nodded.

 

Then, in walked a young, good-looking blonde fellow, maybe a little younger than Scout, dressed in coveralls. He saw her immediately and headed over to her. “Jenny? You okay?” he asked as he took her into a gentle bear hug, then let go the moment he heard Jennifer’s sharp intake of breath. “How bad are you hurt? Word around here is that you took on Blastarr. A biodread? What --”

 

“Hank, take it easy. I’m fine. Just bruised,” she protested. “It was just a fight.”

 

“With a biodread.”

 

“With a big biodread,” she agreed. “But I’m still in one piece.”

 

Hank glanced at her up and down. “Okay. If you say so.”

 

“I say so. Trust me. I can handle myself in a fight.”

 

Hank smiled at her. “Yeah. I’ve found that out over the years.”

 

Hawk cleared his throat. “Jennifer, who’s this?”

 

Jennifer smiled. “Oh, I’m sorry. Guys, this is Hank. He’s a friend of mine from the UTO. You should see him work on a ship’s engine. He’s a magician. Best mechanic they have.”

 

“Only she won’t let me touch her jumpship,” Hank corrected. “She’s a bit picky about who does the repair work on her. She did let me hand her the tools once when she was tuning up the braking thrusters. That’s about as close as I ever got to her baby.”

 

THAT was Hank? That was the person she was joking with over the comm? Every single male member of the Power Team was staring at the young man in disbelief. From what they believed, Hank was a much older man, not someone as young as the man standing before them.

 

“He’s Hank?” Hawk felt utterly deflated. Again. Here was a young, good-looking pilot, closer to Jennifer’s age, seemingly closer to her in likes and dislikes, and he held her hand just a little too long for Hawk’s peace of mind. And that hug? Jennifer wasn’t the least bit standoffish.

 

This wasn’t good.

 

He glanced over at Jon and saw a worried frown on his face. Uh oh, does Jon have competition?

 

“Where the hell is everybody?” An even gruffer voice from the hallway tore through the thick silence.

 

That voice sounded a little more familiar. It sounded more like the one who gave ‘eye-in-the-sky’ reports about Dread.

 

“In here, Dad,” Hank called back.

 

Then, an older man, rough and grizzled, looking like a cross between a mountain man, a crop duster and an automobile mechanic from the early 20th century walked into the room. No, that wasn’t right. Not exactly. He was definitely someone rough-around-the-edges though. He almost charged impatiently into the room. He looked around and said, “What, somebody throw a party and not invite me?”

 

“That’s what you get for not checking your messages,” Jennifer joked back as the new person walked over and pulled her into another gentle hug.

 

“I never check those things,” he said, looking down at her. “What the hell, Jenny? Word is Dread almost took out the main Resistance leadership? You took on Blastarr? Took down some bigwig Dreadie overunit? Freedom One’s dead?” His eyes looked up and glanced over every other member of the Power Team. “And where were these lugs while you were going fifteen rounds with a biobum?”

 

Jennifer put a placating hand on his arm. “Did you ever think it was a group effort?” she asked.

 

The look Hank gave her left no one in doubt that he didn’t believe that statement.

 

Hank Junior laughed. “That did it. You’re coming to the new flying group Dad’s helping get together. That way, I can keep an eye on you.”

 

Jennifer put her hands carefully on her hips. “Excuse me?” she asked in mock indignation. “Keep an eye on me? I’ve been taking care of myself for quite some time now, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it,” she joked.

 

The rest of their conversation was in lower tones. Hank Senior walked over to the rest of the team and sized each one of them up. Then, he put out his hand to Jon. “You must be the captain,” he said as Jon shook his hand. “I’m Hank. We talked the other day.”

 

“I gathered that much.” Jon’s eyes couldn’t leave Jennifer and Hank Junior. She seemed so comfortable with the young man. Then, “Tank, Scout, are the skybikes loaded on the jumpship?”

 

That was a subtle hint, wasn’t it?

 

“Uh, we’re on it, Captain,” Tank said as he tugged on Scout’s arm to follow him out of the room. Hawk decided to follow them. There was one thing Hawk knew from experience -- sometimes, a little jealousy could be a good thing. Jon had already heard the others talk about Elzer’s behavior toward Jennifer. Now Hank Junior? Time to see if Jon had a connection with the green-eyed monster.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

There was a bit of an uncomfortable silence between Hank Senior and Jon while Jennifer and Hank Junior continued to talk.

 

Then Hank Senior glanced back at his son and Jennifer, and then in a whispered voice, “Jealous much?”

 

Jon almost glared at him.

 

“Been trying to get those two together for years,” Hank confided to them. “Never saw two people who got along that good when they met. You should hear them discussing how fast they can make an engine go. Hell, I guess me and her sound the same when we’re discussing flying tricks. But she’s not interested in him that way. Someone else has her attention.” He glanced back at Jon. “It’d take someone special, that’s for sure. Not much gets through her focus, you know. My son’s tried, but it doesn’t go anywhere.”

 

“I’m sure Jennifer knows her own mind,” Jon suggested.

 

Hank nodded his head. “That she does. But you know, I love her like she was my own, and I wouldn’t take kindly to anyone using her or hurting her because she’s not as, let’s just say, as worldly as other people might be?”

 

Jon took that as a subtle hint. Jennifer had a guardian angel, and he had been duly warned of his impending doom if he didn’t behave like a gentleman. But how did Hank know that Jon had any feelings or intentions toward Jennifer?

 

“I feel the same way,” Jon said.

 

“Good. Then we understand each other,” Hank commented, smiling, as he playfully punched Jon in the shoulder. “She plays everything pretty close to the vest, but if you know how to read her, and there aren’t many of us who can, you can tell what she’s feeling sometimes.”

 

“You call her Jenny,” Jon pointed out.

 

“One of the few. To be honest, I think it’s just me and my son who call her that.”

 

Jon considered that. “Is there a story there?”

 

“Oh, not really. We just do it for fun.” He glanced over at Jon and smiled at him. “She likes to be called Jennifer, so it gives us a bit of a standing with others if we’re the only ones who can call her Jenny and get away with it.”

 

Jon was beginning to understand why Jennifer was so fond of Hank. It wasn’t just because of their shared past with the UTO or love of flying. Hank was genuinely fun to be around and was utterly non-judgmental.

 

“So, Jenny,” he called out. “This is that captain you’re working for? Gives Dread all those problems? Doesn’t look like much to me.”

 

“Appearances are deceiving?” she suggested.

 

Both Hanks chuckled. “Okay. We’ve got to go,” Hank Senior said. “With the leadership making moves, they’ll need to know where the Dreadies are from my traffic reports. But we heard you were here and wanted to check in on you before you got out of here. Make sure you were okay.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Jennifer walked over to him and said, “Hank, Gundar was killed in a shoot-out.”

 

Hank took a deep breath. “Yeah. I heard. Me and him, we went back a long way. Grew up on the same street in Lubbock, Texas. Went to the same high school. He was best man at my wedding. He was a rare one. Not many like him,” he sighed. “Did you find out how he went?”

 

Jennifer shook her head. “Not enough time for that. His second, Elzer Polarski, is the one to ask for details.”

 

“Freedom Two,” Hank Junior said aloud. “He’s already got people listening to him. Too bad about Freedom One though. We liked listening to her.”

 

Neither Jennifer nor Jon said anything to mar their memory of the former radio host. Obviously, neither Hank knew that the bigwig Dread Overunit and Freedom One was the same person. People needed their heroes, even the ones who weren’t real.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

The doctor finally told Jennifer she could leave, and leave she did. She had always hated infirmaries, hospitals, clinics, so she hurried as quickly as she could outside with the rest of her team. Walking out to the hospital landing field, Jennifer glanced at her surroundings and stopped when she spotted a particular view. It was a nearly dried up river bed, but she could just see the other side, see the outline of what used to be a city. A name tickled the back of her memory. A lake? No. A river? Yes, a river.

 

She could almost hear a not-exactly-strange voice whisper in her mind. The Charles River.

 

A building near the shore... it looked familiar.

Across the nearly dry riverbed... those remains of what used to be a... town? Buildings?

And the bridge. She could remember a bridge...

 

She had the odd impression of lights reflecting in water...

 

At that moment, she realized she had no idea what their location was. “Hawk?”

 

“Yeah, kiddo?”

 

“Where are we? Exactly?”

 

Hawk looked around. “Boston. That used to be part of the Charles River.  Used to empty into Boston Harbor. There was this really big bridge, but it’s gone now.”

 

Boston... something about Boston... what was she trying to remember? She remembered a bridge. She remembered a really big bridge, but which one? Where?

 

“Do you know this place?”

 

“Absolutely, I do,” he said. Hawk glanced across the murky, almost-dead river. “Spent some time here. You should have seen this place years ago.  Some miles that way, over the river, was Fort Alden. I think part of the outer wall’s still standing... somewhere. It’s a shame what Dread did to the place. It was the first place he attacked even before he joined with Overmind.”

 

Jennifer squinted at the distance to see if she could see what Hawk was talking about. Boston? Fort Alden? “We’re near where Fort Alden was?” she asked him.

 

“Yep. They put Concord and Lexington and Cambridge together into a huge fort. It was mostly scientists, researchers, their families, support personnel, all guarded by the military. It’s the same story of the government ceding the land to the people with the most interests in the area. In this case, the lady the government ceded the land to -- the same way they ceded Colorado Springs to Stuart -- she was a former history professor at Harvard who inherited a large regional manufacturing company from her late father’s estate. She got to name it, and she loved the story of Captain Miles Standish, Priscilla Mullins and John Alden, so she called it Fort Alden. There was a Standish Military Base and a Mullins Building Complex. She used the names from a few of the other pilgrims for the buildings.”

 

Those names... something was familiar... wait -- all that seemed to ring a bell. Something about the captain being too shy to speak to Priscilla Mullins so he asked John Alden to speak for him.

 

But then that sparked another memory. Some fairy tale perhaps? It was dancing in the back of her mind. A ship. A sailing ship... a famous sailing ship... something... “Did they meet on board a sailing ship?” she asked Hawk.

 

He nodded. “The Mayflower,” he said with a smile. He pulled out a small pair of binoculars from his belt and pointed down the river. “See that rotting woodpile with the tall timber standing up from it?”

 

Jennifer focused the binoculars on the area Hawk pointed out. She could see what looked like the remains of a ship’s skeleton with the mast one of the few recognizable features. “I see it.”

 

“That’s the replica of the Mayflower they built in 2120 to celebrate the 500th anniversary of when the Mayflower reached Massachusetts. History has them landing at Plymouth Rock, some stories have them landing at Cape Cod. A lot of the details have been lost. At least, I got told those stories when I was stationed here and visited Boston when I had leave. There were statues and street signs that told stories of the key people. There are a lot of subplots around the people on that ship. John Alden and Priscilla Mullins seem to be one that keeps hanging around.”

 

She wasn’t thinking about Fort Alden at that moment. She was remembering a voice telling a story. A woman’s voice...

 

“Jennifer?” Jon called her name.

 

And the memory came to the front of her mind. It took form and flowed as if she had never forgotten it.

 

“Once upon a time, there was a man named Captain Miles Standish. He sailed on board the Mayflower with the.... pilgrims? He fell in love with a woman named Priscilla Mullins, but he didn’t know what to say to her or how to court her. He asked his friend, John Alden, to ask about her comfort, telling her that it was Captain Standish who wanted to know.”

 

“That’s a children’s story,” Hawk agreed. “I read it to my kids when they were little. How do you know it?”

 

“There was a poem,” she said. How did it go?

 

“In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims,

To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,

Clad in doublet and hose and boots of Cordovan leather,

Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.”

 

The men looked at each other, then Tank said, “That’s the Courtship of Miles Standish. Written by Longfellow. I haven’t read that since I was in school, and I know we don’t have a copy of it.”

 

“Longfellow was a descendent of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins,” Jennifer said. She shook her head as if trying to shake a memory loose. “The story was part of his family’s oral tradition. There’s nothing about it in history. It was just a family tale. He put it in a poem.” She looked at them. “I remember someone telling me that story... a woman. Or at least hearing it somewhere.”

 

“What else?” Jon asked her.

 

She glanced at the dried up river bed... lights. She remembered lights flickering on the water. She remembered people. She remembered music. And dancing. But was she remembering a memory or was she only thinking she was? Maybe it was just something she read and visualized...

 

“Jennifer?” Hawk prompted her.

 

“Something like a party or festival --”

 

“By a lake or a river?” Tank asked.

 

She nodded her head. “People in strange clothes dancing to music. String instruments, I think. Flutes of some kind? No, they weren’t flutes.” She tried to remember, but all she had was this one flash of a memory of walking, someone holding her hand, the water on her right side with the reflection of lights dancing on the water, grownups all around her dancing and singing, nighttime, people sitting at wooden tables and eating -- the memory may have been of only a two or three second moment. “A festival of some kind?”

 

“One of the river festivals,” Tank concluded. “There used to be a lot of them before the wars. They’re the offshoots of the Renaissance Festivals that became popular in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. They’d travel from town to town, wearing period clothes and playing celtic or medieval music.”

 

“Sounds like you went to one before you were taken,” Jon added.

 

Maybe she had gone to a festival? If she had, wouldn’t she have remembered it before that moment?

 

Hawk pointed toward the dry river bed. “Maybe the river jarred a memory,” he guessed. “There used to be a lot of the river festivals all over the country in the spring and fall. Here, they had a few every month during those seasons. I went to some myself. Oktoberfest was one I really enjoyed. The Pancake Festival... Joanna loved the Boston Arts Festival. But the river festivals were my favorite.”

 

Something was jogging her memory, but what was it? Her dream, the one she’d had since childhood.... “Statues... Hawk, you mentioned statues. What did you mean?”

 

Hawk laughed. “There are lots of them. Especially Revolutionary War statues. This area played a big part in the early Revolutionary War.”

 

It didn’t mean that she had been to a river festival in Boston or at the Charles River or saw statues that were in the area, but maybe wherever she came from, it was a clue? Maybe it was a real memory and not a dream? Maybe wherever she was from was similar to the area they were in?

 

And if it was a real memory, why was Boston tingling at the edge of her mind? Had she been there before? Even if it was just to attend a festival?

 

Maybe it was a real memory, not just a dream or something from her imagination?

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Dread paced.

 

He detested pacing. It was a human weakness, showing impatience and an unwillingness to accept facts as they were presented.

 

He glanced at the communicator. Still nothing from Larabee.

 

Where was she? Why hadn’t she called in? Where was Blastarr?

 

Dread paced.

 

Finally, Blastarr contacted him through the secure frequency. “My lord?”

 

“Report, Blastarr.”

 

“Power and the other Resistance leaders escaped.”

 

Was that why Larabee had not reported in? “What of Overunit Larabee?”

 

“Taken prisoner, my lord.”

 

Prisoner? The plan failed. But maybe not the entire plan. “Power’s pilot is dead?”

 

“My sensors read no life signs after the battle with her.”

 

At least one thing had gone right even if the rest of the plan had been a failure. The pilot’s loss should demoralize Jon and give Dread the advantage in battle.

 

“Return home, my warlord.”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

 

Resistance Prison Psych Ward

Near the Passages

One week later

 

Jon checked his chrono. He had two hours before the restaurant started serving dinner, and he could check it out before he actually brought Jennifer, find the perfect table to sit at. He’d already spoken to the maitre’d and found out what type of fare was available… who would have thought that so much diversity was still available? Could he call the dinner ‘a date’ or just a thank-you? And if it was a date, then what ... enough. He wanted to take the woman he cared about out to dinner. Stop analyzing everything, Jon, he told himself. Get dinner, spend time with Jennifer and forget about the war for an hour.

 

He walked quickly down the corridors, letting his mind focus on the current task at hand. He liked to think he was a good judge of people, but the truth was that he got fooled. 

 

That meant Dread had developed a new type of spy to use against them. They’d have to be on their guard more than ever.

 

Jon didn’t know why he wanted to talk to Larabee. Interrogate and question? Absolutely. Talk? Why did he want to ‘talk’ to her? She was a diehard Machine believer. She was a Dread soldier, through and through. He wanted to talk to her alone though. He didn’t want her anywhere near Jennifer, not given all the bad memories Larabee would bring up for her.

 

The conversation between Jennifer and Larabee the others told him about prompted his curiosity. For the first time, Jennifer had not tried to tell a Dread soldier about the lies. His Jennifer? Not trying to save a soldier? That was out of character for her, but what she displayed was anger and contempt and it was all utterly justified.

 

He felt the exact same way.

 

Yet, for the first time in his career, he had absolutely no interest in being the interrogator. He just wanted to have his say and leave.

 

He stopped in front of a guard and showed him his identification.

 

“Captain Power,” the guard said his name. “I was expecting you. Rules are simple. Stand against the wall. Don’t go near the bars. Don’t accept anything she tries to give you. Don’t hand her anything. If we could put her behind glass walls, we would but we don’t have any. Got it?”

 

“Got it,” Jon answered as the guard motioned for his weapon.

 

Unarmed, Jon walked through the door and then heard the guard close it behind him.

 

In the cell sat Christine Larabee. Plastic chair, table and bed. No sheets on the thin mattress. Facilities for basic bodily functions. Nothing more. This was their version of a suicide watch? Jon leaned against the wall opposite the cell and stared at her.

 

Larabee sat on the thin mattress, glaring at Jon. “Barbaric organics,” she muttered. “To treat their superiors like this.”

 

Superiors? Right. The Dread soldiers thought they were superior to everything and everyone save Dread, Overmind and The Machine. Still, it gave him ammunition to use against her. “Dread soldiers are raised without any small comforts. A small billet, a cot, a spare uniform and not much else. You’re trained to do without anything other than basic necessities because luxuries are for the weak, and the weak are not of The Machine. You complain about having more room and a more comfortable place to sleep than you had in Volcania? Aren’t complaints proof that you’re weak, not of The Machine? Wouldn’t that make you a poor example of Dread’s New Order?”

 

“Capture by the enemy, an inferior one --”

 

“You’re an overunit doing infiltrations,” Jon interrupted. “That’s a little out of the ordinary, isn’t it? Or was this a test to see if you could handle a promotion to commander?”

 

Larabee stood up and approached the bars.

 

“I’m a loyal soldier to the Will of the Machine. I follow the orders of Lord Dread.”

 

Jon waved his hand dismissively. “Yeah, I’ve heard all that before. You’re not the first overunit we’ve met.”

 

“I’m the first that fooled the infamous Captain Power,” she reminded him smugly.

 

“Infamous?” Jon repeated. “Well-known? That’s a good description. Somewhat famous? Maybe. But infamous? That’s Dread, not me. I’m one of the good guys.”

 

Christine scoffed and walked the few steps back to her bed. “You are a threat to the glory of the New Order. Lord Dread will stop you.”

 

“He’s tried more than once,” Jon said. “He fails each and every time. Although I have to admit that he did get more creative this time. I didn’t think he had any imagination in him.”

 

Christine laughed. “Lord Dread is all-knowing and all-powerful. His will --”

 

“In all the years I’ve had to deal with Dread Youth, I’ve never understood this almost panicked need you have to repeat the litanies no matter the situation. You more than any of the others in the Wastelands have to know how ridiculous they sound. Dread isn’t even human anymore. He’s a bolted-together walking disaster that’s lost all touch with reality, and you’re making him out to be some kind of god and not an insane murderer.”

 

Jon stopped. He realized what he’d just said. A god? Why hadn’t Jon seen that before? Yes, there was the religion of the Machine, the belief in the Machine, but why hadn’t Jon ever considered Dread’s status within the religion? He wasn’t just the architect or a believer or a dictator. He’d set himself up as a deity with his own soldiers! Talk about arrogance and ego!

 

And an exploitable weakness.

 

“Oh, Lord Dread knows all, Captain,” Larabee taunted. “He knows all about you. He knows emotions are a weakness and he uses them. Do you think he was unaware of your attraction to the pilot? Of how strong your feelings for her are? He saw it. I was to be an older version of her, one you could consider more of an equal and not a subordinate officer.”

 

Jon shook his head. “An equal? To her? This is definitely a situation where I can say she’s so far out of your league, you two aren’t even in the same ballpark. Dread thought someone like you could get my attention because he thought I have an attraction for her?”

 

“He did,” she told him. “He’s seen the two of you together. He knows. I’m not... unaware... of the effect I have on male organics. I know you were interested.”

 

“Curious,” he argued, “about Freedom One. Christine Larabee doesn’t interest me at all. Overunit Larabee? That’s another subject altogether, but still one I despise.”

 

“You didn’t despise what you saw at the outpost. If we had had more time alone together, I have no doubt you’d have told your team to take their time returning.”

 

“Don’t confuse curiosity with interest,” he warned. Why was she telling him all this? Was this part of Dread’s plans? It was disturbing enough to hear that Dread ‘had seen’ proof of his feelings for Jennifer -- where such proof had been gathered, he had no idea -- but to think that Larabee was willingly giving up valuable Intel? Or maybe she didn’t know its worth? He kept the conversation going.

 

“It was more than mere interest, Captain. Lord Dread knows where your weakness is. You are vulnerable.”

 

“Why did Dread think that getting all the major Resistance leaders together in one place would stop the Resistance? He can’t be that short-sighted.”

 

“Short-sighted? Getting rid of the enemy is the wise move,” Christine countered. “Cut off the head, the rest of the snake dies.”

 

Wait, the head? That was it! Dread honestly thought that he really could kill the leaders to stop the Resistance. He didn’t understand that the Resistance would continue to fight even if there were no leaders to lead them. He didn’t understand the guerilla unit method of battle.

 

Again, another exploitable weakness.

 

“You really think Dread’s going to win this war, don’t you?”

 

“I know we’ll win. The Machine will not be defeated. How you can believe you will persevere... I was right. You are such an innocent.”

 

Maybe the word ‘innocent’ meant something different to the Dreadies than to everyone else? He kept talking. “Not quite,” Jon answered. “Idealistic? Maybe. Hopeful? Definitely. Innocent? Like I told you before, that term hasn’t referred to me in a very long time.”

 

“Naive then,” she continued.

 

Naive? Jon was beginning to wonder more and more about what his reputation was with the Dread Youth.

 

“I’d say Dread was naive if he thought this plan to destroy the leadership was going to work. He keeps failing to stop us. At some point, his soldiers will have to stop believing the lies and accept the reality that Dread has destroyed their lives, and it’s all been for nothing.”

 

“Nothing? We will be immortal minds in metalloid bodies. Immortality will be ours. We will --”

 

“I heard about what Jennifer said to you,” Jon interrupted her. “How minds can’t be moved over. She’s right. It’s not the person. It’s brain cells and engrams that they’re moving over. Some part of the personality survives, but most is destroyed during the transference process. You’ve been told that there are biomechs with human minds, but that’s not true. Even Blastarr doesn’t have actual minds inside its memory core. The brain cells and engrams in a positronic brain give it additional processing capabilities, but that’s all. There’s no immortality for humans in the Machine Empire. Dread’s failed in that.”

 

Christine stood up and walked over to the bars again. She gave Jon the impression of a caged animal moving around in circles to work off her frustration at being locked up. “Lord Dread has never failed. He has stopped you at every turn. You have never defeated him.”

 

So she was standing there, actually proclaiming that Dread had never been defeated?  Dread’ propaganda machine must have been working full time to hide that news. So how was the Resistance viewed? As annoyances? Still...

 

“You’ve been out in the Wastelands long enough to have learned the truth. You know we keep beating Dread. You’ve even made transmissions about our victories, so you can’t deny they happened.” Jon knew that questioning her wouldn’t work, not even with the interrogators. Maybe he could lead her down the proverbial garden path?

 

“A few battles won’t win a war,” she backpedaled.

 

“You’re contradicting yourself,” Jon taunted her. “First you say he’s never failed, then you say we’ve won some battles.”

 

“I did not say that,” she said angrily. “I said --”

 

“You said we won. That means Dread lost. That means he failed. And this mission of yours? You failed.”

 

Christine chuckled lowly as she walked back to her cot and sat down again. “No, Captain. I didn’t fail. I made you doubt yourself.”

 

Ah. There was another part of her mission Jon hadn’t guessed at. Undermine whatever confidence he had. “You think we wouldn’t have found out that you were an overunit at some point?” He paused a moment, then said, “You see, I did notice certain aspects of you and your behavior that reminded me of Jennifer long ago. I saw the discipline in your movements. That’s ingrained in anyone who was a Dread soldier. You weren’t as infallible as you think you were. It might have taken a little time, but we would have known soon enough. Dread soldiers cannot behave like ordinary people for long lengths of time.”

 

“Diverting the conversation, Captain? I know what you’re doing. You want to know how much Lord Dread knows about your technology.  That’s not a secret. He’s well aware of the fact that you have some sort of teleportation capability,” Larabee warned. “He may not know what it is or where it is, but your actions confirmed that they exist. There’s no way you could have transported the Resistance leaders from all over the country back to the rendezvous site that quickly without it. It’s only a matter of time before Lord Dread finds out where they are, and he will, Captain. Then he’s going to make you pay for defying him.”

 

So she didn’t know that the Resistance leaders were all on the East Coast, but Dread’s suspicions were worse. He knew they had to have teleportation devices. He just didn’t know they were gates.

 

“He’s made me pay for things that hadn’t even happened yet. The way I figure it, he owes me. A lot.” He paused for a moment, then said, “We can help you, Christine.”

 

Christine sneered. “More diversions? Why not ask me the question you want to ask, Captain?”

 

“What question?”

 

“How much does Lord Dread know about you and your pilot? That’s what you truly want to know. Do you think he would have orchestrated such an elaborate ruse if he didn’t have detailed knowledge of your relationship?”

 

Was she speaking the truth or just baiting him? Trying to get a reaction from him?

 

“Dread knows exactly how I feel about my team. That’s never been any secret,” he countered. Dread had used an illusion of their deaths to try to break Jon when their minds were in the net at Tech City. But if Dread had learned how special Jennifer was to him, if he knew... Jon needed answers. Could he trip Christine up? Get her to admit something and not be aware that she did it?

 

“How many people who have been captured by Lord Dread know the two of you? How many of those have seen the two of you together? How many interrogated? How many digitized? How many recordings made of the two of you during battles?”

 

Had they behaved in a revealing way at any time? Had they given any indication of their relationship in a way they weren’t aware of? If Dread truly knew...

 

“Yet he sent you to investigate while setting up a trap?” Jon countered. “That doesn’t sound right if he already knew.” He lowered his voice. “Which means he doesn’t know anything. He sent you on what we call a fishing expedition.”

 

Maybe she didn’t understand the term, but Jon clearly saw the look in her eyes change. She understood the intent of his comment. Had he just made a dent in Christine’s brain-washed belief system? Was that the small change in perception that Jennifer saw when she got through to a Dread Youth soldier?

 

He heard a knock at the door and saw the guard motioning him out. Behind him were several members of their psych team.

 

He stood up straight and walked out the door. After all, he had a dinner to get to and if there was one gentlemanly rule his dad taught him, it was to never leave a lady waiting.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Christine stared at Jon’s back as he walked out. His remarks, his comments -- was it possible that Lord Dread didn’t know? How could it be possible? 

 

Then there was Power himself. Had she rattled him? Had she made him doubt himself? After everything he’d said, she didn’t think so.

 

She truly didn’t understand Power. Why hadn’t he responded to her the way he should have? She’d lived out in the Wastelands long enough to learn that organics cater to their desires. They yearned for ‘luxuries’ and the non-basics. She had made her intentions clear, hadn’t she? She found she was the object of desire by countless men, men she had never met before, so why hadn’t Power responded in the way he should have? In the way she expected?

 

There shouldn’t have been any resistance to her charms. She was everything he could want, right? What more could he need?

 

Or was Dread wrong about that too?

 

Too? The word ‘too’ just crept into her thoughts! That meant she was thinking that Dread had been wrong before... She had to purge those thoughts. If The Machine thought she doubted in any way...

 

She began to recite the litanies, every single one she knew. She had to reaffirm her belief in The Machine, in Lord Dread. She was an overunit, soon to be a commander once she escaped and returned to Volcania with the intel she had collected. She was a faithful soldier, loyal to The Machine.

 

But if Dread didn’t know --

 

For the first time in her life, the litanies gave her no comfort.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Passages Corridor

 

Jennifer paced through the landing bay slowly as she waited for Jon to return. She truly did not want to see or talk to Christine Larabee again. When she looked at Larabee, she could only see what she would have become if circumstances had been different. She had been the youngest youth leader, then she was the youngest overunit. Would she have become the youngest commander as well once she was transferred into a metalloid body? Would she have gone higher in rank?

 

Looking at Larabee was like looking in a time-traveling mirror. It had scared her, and it was a fear that shook her to the core. She didn’t know if she could look past it to confront Christine again. It was better that Jon talked with her alone.

 

But if she could see herself in Christine, could Jon see the same thing in her?

 

She pushed the thought out of her mind and started walking toward the restaurant. Almost immediately, her communicator dinged for her attention. It was a message from Scout.

 

“This is Pilot.”

 

“Jennifer,” Scout’s voice came over very clear and excited. “I’m sending you a file as soon as I get it decrypted. It’ll take a while for you to run through the sims, but you won’t believe what I found!”

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Restaurant

 

The restaurant had been doing a booming business since it opened. Many people remembered the fine restaurants that existed before the wars and wanted one again. It was open 24 hours a day, every day. There were some banquet rooms for large parties, smaller rooms for private affairs, and as an added bonus, secluded tables behind movable screens for couples who wanted a little privacy.

 

After an initial recon, Jon had reserved a private table at a time when the restaurant had few guests. It was in an area where no one could see them unless they knew to look for them. The one thing Jon wanted was to not get anyone’s attention… not that that could be entirely avoided. He didn’t want their relationship to become common knowledge. 

 

At least, not yet.

 

He knew their situation couldn’t stay secret. The rest of the team knew. Greta knew. The fact they were friends meant they wouldn’t say anything until Jon and Jennifer were more secure in the relationship. Others wouldn’t be so considerate.

 

After what Christine had told him, he was worried more about what Dread believed rather than what he knew. If he believed that he and Jennifer...

 

No, he wasn’t going to think about any of that. Not at that moment. He’d think about it later. He had a dinner date to go to, and yes, he was going to call it a date.

 

And if people saw them, well, then they saw them. They couldn’t hide the truth forever.

 

Jon hurried down the corridor toward the restaurant when the lights suddenly went out. Moments later, emergency backup lanterns lit up the area. An alert sounded over the speakers. “Attention. The generator for Section L has gone down. All non-essential locations will be closed until further notice.”

 

Section L was more of a rest-and-recreation area in the facility which was why the restaurant had been located there. It was non-essential, so it would be shut down. Still, he was supposed to meet Jennifer there. He walked in as the restaurant personnel were putting everything away in preparation to shut down for a while.

 

“Ah, Captain Power,” the maitre’d approached with a covered plate. “I’m sorry about your reservation for you and Corporal Chase.  She was here, but once the alert was given, we had to ask everyone to leave. She returned to your jumpship.” He handed the covered plate to Jon. “Unfortunately, we have to close until the generator is back online, but I’ve got supper for the two of you. It’s a deep dish pizza, sort of.”

 

“Pizza?” Jon asked. He didn’t remember that being on the menu.

 

“Ingredients came from hydroponics. Looks like one of the scientists down there likes your team and insisted that she contribute the tomatoes when she heard you were coming. Just bring the plate back later.”

 

Jon smiled. Maybe Scout’s flirtations had more advantages than he thought.

 

“But if you’re being shut down --”

 

“Captain, after everything your team does for us, I think I can break protocol by not closing the very instant the alert went out and prepare a plate for you.” 

 

Jon accepted the plate with a smile. “Thank you.”

 

“Oh, one other thing -- there’s going to be a Christmas party this year. Food, a tree, a band. I hear they’re planning a dance too. Keep that date open so you two can come to the party,” and then the maitre’d ushered Jon away from the restaurant.

 

A dance, huh? Parties at the Passages were always fun, and maybe Jennifer would like going to a Christmas dance?

 

Wait… how did the maitre’d know about them? 

 

Jon mentally kicked himself. Oh, well…. so much for secrecy. 

 

He quickly walked through the dimness back toward the landing bay when another alert was heard. “Attention. All generators in Sections K through P will be taken offline for the next two hours for maintenance in order to assure that they don’t fail like Section L’s generator. All non-essential locations will be closed until further notice.”

 

The landing bay wasn’t ‘non-essential,’ but it would be on limited power. Good thing the jumpship had its own internal lights.

 

He walked through the darkened landing bay toward the jumpship. The upper deck of the ship was dark, but there was a light coming from the lower deck. He shut the hatch and walked down the stairwell.

 

“I brought dinner --”

 

Jon stopped when he saw the small table set for two, fettuccine in a bowl in the center. He glanced down at the box in his hand. Pizza and fettuccine? That’d be a rare treat.

 

“Be right there,” Jennifer called back from the next compartment.

 

He recognized the sound in her voice. It was that focused-working-on-a-problem voice. That also meant she could get so focused on a problem, she’d miss several meals and not realize how much time had passed. Better go get her before the food gets cold, he thought to himself. He put the pizza beside the fettuccine and then removed his gun belt and placed it on a nearby shelf. One of their rules was to never be unarmed off-base, but this was a special dinner. What gentleman would go on a date wearing a blaster?

 

He walked into the next compartment. Jennifer was looking at a computer monitor, watching some comparative diagnostics of some data.

 

“What’s that?” he asked.

 

“Scout found something new on the sensor readings from our trips through the gates over the last two years,” she answered. “He sent over the summary. It took about a half hour for the computer to run through some simulations. He found something.”

 

Sensor readings? Right. The anomaly he was searching for. “Something new?”

 

“He found the pattern. We know that Dread knows we must be able to teleport so we began comparing our trips, certain events, timing, teleportation scans, mission records, jump ship inventories and then we noticed... this.” She pointed to two waves. One was moving faster than the other. “And it’s happened many more times over the last --”

 

“Wait,” Jon interrupted her. Scout and Jennifer knew more about the gates than he did, so if they found something odd… “What does two waves mean?”

 

“When we enter the gate, for one single moment, we cease to exist. It’s that moment we jump from one site to another. We have no mass, no weight and no substance, yet there is a disturbance created by our movement. The greater the mass, the slower we move. The disturbance is depicted by a wave. All five of us in the jumpship with full fuel and complement makes this disturbance.” She pointed to the faster moving wave. “This other wave is also all five of us in the jumpship with a full complement --”

 

“But it’s moving slower?”

 

She nodded. “It means something else went through the gate at the same time we did. Increased mass.”

 

Jon shook his head. “We’d see them if someone flew in behind us.”

 

“Not if whoever followed us wasn’t in the air,” Jennifer countered.

 

Jon had no idea what she was talking about. Not yet. “I don’t understand. That’s where the gate is.”

 

Jennifer brought up the gate map of North America, each site with a gate over it clearly indicated. “We power the gates from the jumpship or the bikes. When we’re not using them, they’re dormant. When we send the signal to open the gate, the underground generators activate and open to the gate system. The generators’ sensors read the coordinates we put in for the next gate and create a bridge to that one particular gate so we can fly through. According to these readings and the theory that Rob is working on, someone goes through a gate that forms on the ground when we activate them from the air.”

 

That made absolutely no sense. “But a gate doesn’t form on the ground,” he said. “There’s no way anyone could know when we use them. They’d have to know where they are. They’d have to be waiting on the ground near the generators. Somehow, they’d have to actually create a physical gate on the ground, and they’d have to move quickly --”

 

“Not really,” Jennifer disagreed. “As long as something is going through the gate, it stays open. And from what some of these readings suggest, there’s a gate forming on the ground at the same time we generate one in the air, but as long as something is passing through the gate on the ground, that one stays active even if the one in the air shuts down. Some of these waves last several minutes. Also, according to these readings, the mass going through in addition to us during these jumps always varies, but they seem to be going in a particular direction. West. Northwest. Southwest. It’s only when we’ve entered those specific codes and traveled in those directions that we see these dual wave readings. It’s never when we travel eastward.”

 

Was this even possible? The concept was astounding. Mind-boggling. “That means someone else knows about the gates, how they work. Everything. But they just can’t open them themselves?”

 

“I hope not,” Jennifer muttered. “We’ve changed the codes every few months for years. Plus we added an additional layer of security after Andy Jackson broke in. Maybe our theories are wrong, but they also fit the data.”

 

Scout would have undoubtedly told the others before sending the information to Jennifer. Mentor would be re-running the data, creating other theories. But if someone else was using the gates...

 

If security had been compromised...

 

If it was Dread…

 

Could it be Dread?

 

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I brought pizza,” he said suddenly. For once in his life, he was going to worry about problems later. He knew the rest of his team would be working on the new Intel. He and Jennifer would help when they returned to the base. For maybe the first time in his life, he was not going to think tactics or warfare. He was going to think ‘dinner.’

 

She brought her hand up and held his.  “I brought fettuccine,” Jennifer said as she looked up at him with a smile. “When the alert went out,  we were all rushed out of the restaurant, but the maitre’d gave me some food  to take with me.”

 

He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

 

Jennifer took his hand and walked toward the first compartment when she noticed something. “You’re not wearing your gun? Isn’t that against protocol?”

 

“A gentleman never wears a weapon when he escorts a young lady,” Jon said in a rather dignified manner as they walked back to the table. He pulled her chair out for her in a very gentleman-like way. He didn’t mention that she wasn’t wearing her gun either.

 

Jennifer smiled. “Rules of a more civilized world?”

 

“Used to be,” he said as he sat down opposite her.

 

Pizza... fettuccine... old world repasts in a shattered world setting, sheltered in one of the few remote oases of civilization. They were two people at the forefront in the fight with Dread, risking their lives every day, sitting at a small table in the lower deck of their jumpship eating pasta and pizza. It was out of the ordinary, but Jon didn’t want to be anywhere else.

 

“I’ve never had fettuccine before,” Jennifer told him. “It’s good.”

 

“I haven’t had since I was a kid,” Jon told her. “Pizza though, that was something we had every week. Mitch and I would climb up into our treehouse and Mom or Dad would order us a pizza. We’d have a party up in our crow’s nest, eat pizza, trade baseball cards.”

 

“Sounds like fun,” she said as she took a bite of pizza.

 

Jon remembered the first time she ever tried pizza. It hadn’t been the tomato-sauce-cheesy type of pizza they were eating at that moment, but the concept of ‘pizza’ had fascinated her. Food for the Dread Youth was unappetizing and plain, nutritious but almost tasteless. The idea of varied flavors had never occurred to her until she escaped and was introduced to a greater variety of foods, scarce though they were.

 

“So,” she said between bites, “how did the meeting go with Larabee?”

 

He scooped out another spoonful of fettuccine. “I picked up a few new bits of Intel,” he told her. “Some, we already knew. Such as Dread soldiers aren’t told the truth about Dread’s defeats, and they think Dread is infallible and a god.”

 

“That’s not anything new,” she told him. “But I have a feeling that the lies are coming faster than they were when I was there. He wasn’t getting beaten in fights on the same scale then as he is now. Anything we can use?”

 

“One or two things.” He didn’t want to tell her at that moment that Dread had found out that their relationship had changed. That could wait until later. Maybe the next day. He wanted that night to be just the two of them. No talking shop. Just leave work at the office... “We could talk about that tomorrow if you want,” he suggested.

 

“Something’s bothering you now,” she explained quickly. “I can tell.”

 

He looked into her eyes. He knew that she needed to know. Their future, if they had a real future, depended on them being honest with each other about all things.

 

“Dread underestimates us. He seems to think that the Resistance is run like a military group where you can get rid of the officers and the enlisted will scatter, so to speak. He wanted to kill the leadership because he thought that would stop the Resistance altogether. There were a few other things, but all in all, Larabee is a diehard believer.”

 

“Amazing,” Jennifer shook her head and glanced around the semi-lit room. “She lived out here, she saw life out here, and she still believes. I’d say she’s in denial.”

 

“She’s with the Psych people. Maybe they can get through to her. I know I didn’t, but she doesn’t have a high opinion of me, that’s for sure. Thinks I’m naive and innocent.”

 

“She definitely doesn’t know you,” Jennifer countered.

 

“No, she doesn’t.”

 

“You believe that people can do the impossible if enough try. That’s not naiveté. That’s hope and optimism in the face of absolute destruction, and that’s in short supply these days. No one in Dread’s army could even imagine it. That’s why you have an edge over them. They have no imagination.”

 

Jon shrugged. “I proved I didn’t have any on this last mission. I almost got us all killed.”

 

“That could happen on any mission.”

 

“But there’s something else,” Jon told her.

 

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” she asked.

 

Jon shook his head. “Dread chose her because he thought she’d remind me of you. He wanted her to get close to me because he knows things have changed between us, and he believed that I would be more interested in her since she wouldn’t be a teammate.”

 

Jennifer stopped eating. She put down her fork and sat back. She took a breath. Then she smiled a little. “Dread knows. That’s a bit... uncomfortable.”

 

“To say the least,” Jon agreed.

 

“I think I like the fact they’re underestimating you. Gives us an edge.”

 

Jon could only smile and nod his head.

 

“It’s strange though,” she added. “Dread knows you. He should know better.”

 

“I’d say he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does.”

 

They were silent for a moment as they began eating again. Garlic bread. That’s what was missing from their meal. His mom would always make garlic bread with pasta. Wheat was not a harvest that was easily grown any longer, so bread was being made out of other grains and certain comestibles. 

 

He remembered how his mom and dad had what they called “date nights.” Just the two of them, sometimes going to a restaurant, sometimes having dinner at home alone. His dad would get a bottle of wine… he put that memory away. His parents had a good marriage, and they found their way to keep it like that during their time together. He and Jennifer would have to find a way all their own, even if all they had was pizza and fettuccine in the hold of the jumpship.

 

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

 

Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.

 

Chocolate!

 

It was a rare treat, and the restaurant had couriered over some chocolate cake for dessert! 

 

Unfortunately, with chocolate being so rare, it was one thin slice per person, no second helpings.

 

Jennifer ate her cake slowly, savoring every bite. Jon laughed at the site.

 

“Good?”

 

“I’ve always loved chocolate,” she told him as she scraped the cake crumbs from the plate.

 

“Always?” Jon asked her.

 

Always. She did say always. She nodded her head. “Yeah. Always. Do you remember, a few years ago,  when Hawk traded a piece of scrap metal for some chocolate so I could try it? Well, I remembered the taste from before.”

 

Jon pushed his plate away slightly. He knew Dread would have considered something like chocolate to be subservient to the senses, a luxury, therefore ‘not of the Machine.’ So when she said ‘before,’ that definitely got his attention. “From before you were taken?”

 

“I think so,” she explained. Once, she read that sensory memory was more powerful than actual memory. Now, she had no doubt that she had tasted chocolate as a child before she was taken. “I guess I had tasted it when I was a child.”

 

“Speaking of that, you remembered something else when we saw what used to be the Charles River. It was more than the festivals, wasn’t it?”

 

Jennifer finished off the last of her cake. “I think so. I think I’ve seen that area before it was destroyed. There were some familiar things there, but I can’t be sure. That dream I told you about? The one with the blue butterfly and the banister and the bird? There are other things I’ve dreamed about, but none of them made sense to me.”

 

“Like a river,” Jon suggested.

 

“River, ships, bridges, festivals. It may be that the area looked like a place I knew when I was a child.”

 

“And statues. You mentioned statues,” Jon prompted her. “Boston was known for a lot of them.”

 

She shrugged. “Maybe. I think it’d be too coincidental if I had been born in that area, wouldn’t it? Of all the places we fly to and visit, we just happen to come across a single location where I might have lived? I think the site just jogged a memory. That’s all.”

 

“Have you given any thought about trying to find out who you were and what your name really is?”

 

Did she really want to know? Did it make a difference? She was who she was, and she liked herself. She fought the good fight with people she cared about. Did it matter to her who she used to be? More to the point, did it matter to anyone who she used to be? Was there anyone alive to care?

 

“I haven’t really given it much thought until...” she paused, trying to think of how to explain.

 

“Until last week when you had your memory jogged?”

 

She nodded. “The only thing I might find out is my name and the place I was taken from. Nothing more.” She paused a moment before saying, “I would like to know why Boston seemed so familiar to me though. It feels like deja vu.”

 

Jon leaned back in his chair and thought for a moment. “So maybe there’s one positive thing we can say happened about that mission? It jogged a memory for you?”

 

Jennifer saw his sheepish grin and could only smile back. He’s the only one who knew the full truth about what she remembered, but he was trying to find something good to pull out of all that could have been bad from last week’s failed mission. “Maybe. You’re going to feel guilty about all this for a while, aren’t you? You don’t need to.”

 

Jon shrugged. “I should have seen it coming. I shouldn’t have been so eager to jump in and go along with it all --”

 

“Oh?” Jennifer leaned a little closer. Time to pull him out of his down mood. A little word play should do it. “I think it’s more than that. I think you’re feeling a little guilty for being a fan of a celebrity.”

 

“A fan?” his voice sounded unbelieving.

 

“Come on, Jon. You mean to tell me that you weren’t the least bit interested in meeting Freedom One? Even Scout said he couldn’t wait to see the face behind the voice.”

 

“Maybe a little. At first,” he admitted. “After all, we had exchanged a few messages.”

 

“I think she wanted to exchange more than that,” Jennifer hinted.

 

Jon shook his head and smiled. “But she wasn’t my type,” Jon protested.

 

“Really?” Jennifer countered. “Let’s see, I’ve seen you with a few women in the last few years. You seem to have a type, and Christine Larabee definitely fits the description.”

 

“I have a type?” he smiled, the look on his face showing that he knew quite well that they were about to trade some fun verbal quips.

 

“Strong --”

 

“Strong, yeah, I like strong. And stubborn. Someone who knows their mind.”

 

“Independent,” she added.

 

“Always a good quality in anyone,” Jon admitted.

 

“Confident,” Jennifer mentioned. “Come to think of it, those are the same qualities Mindsinger had. Hawk called her a rare woman,” Jennifer pointed out. “I guess Christine Larabee would be considered that too.”

 

Jon laughed. “Not in a heartbeat, she wouldn’t. At least, she’s not what I’d call a rare woman. Any more than Mindsinger.”

 

“So she just didn’t interest you?”

 

“Nah, not after the first few minutes,” Jon told her.

 

“Really?”

 

“I won’t say I didn’t find her interesting because of who she was. I mean, she was Freedom One. We’d listened to her for months and wondered about her, but no. I wasn’t interested in her. Looks like Hank Junior has designs on you though.”

 

Jennifer shook her head. “He’s sweet and a good friend, but that’s all.”

 

“Friends, huh? What about Elzer Polarski? I hear he was very friendly. Maybe he had a very strong interest in you.”

 

She smiled back at him. “Our suits have a tendency to do that.”

 

“No, it wasn’t the suit,” he said. “It was you.”

 

She rested her hand on his arm. “All I did was block a blast from Blastarr and let an entire wall fall on me.”

 

“Ah, came to his rescue. That would definitely make an impression on him. Did he show any gratitude for saving his life?”

 

Jennifer nodded her head. “He said thank you, not quite as well as you did, but he was sincere. And he was a gentleman.”

 

A gentleman? “Knows how to treat a lady. I’m sure he had a few thoughts on that subject.”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but he’s not my type.”

 

“Really? What exactly is your type?”

 

Jennifer thought for a moment. “Someone a little taller, I think,” she teased him. “Maybe someone whose rank is a little closer to mine... militarily speaking.”

 

“A captain might be more what you’re thinking of?”

 

“A captain might do even though I did outrank a captain in my previous profession,” she mused. “It might also depend on what other qualities he has.”

 

“Such as?”

 

“He’d have to love my jumpship and respect my flying skills,” she counted off. “After all, someone interested in me would have to understand about the special relationship I have with my ship.” Her smile was utterly contagious.

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Her ship. He knew everyone including himself would take a back seat to her ship. She loved that aircraft. Not as a living thing, but as something quintessentially hers. Something she cared about, not something she believed was alive. Looking at Jennifer, he wondered how anyone could think there could be any similarities in her and Larabee. They might have come from the same place, but they were nothing alike.

 

“I can agree with that,” he said.

 

“But what about you? You took on Blastarr and an entire platoon of clickers. I can imagine the look on Larabee’s face the next time she sees you once she finds out that happened.”

 

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “How do you know that I’ll see her again?”

 

“I know you. She has information we need, and...” she paused before adding, “she’s an overunit. It’s one of the few times we’ve had one to interrogate. You’ll get much more valuable Intel once the psych people have dealt with the brainwashing.”

 

She did know him. That was it in a nutshell, and he knew her, but there was something he was still curious about.

 

“So... I don’t have a reason to be jealous of Hank Junior or Elzer?”

 

In response, she asked, “Do I have a reason to be jealous of Mindsinger or Larabee?”

 

“Not in the least. I mean, you’re the only person I’d ask to the Christmas party they’re planning,” he explained.

 

That got her attention. “A Christmas party?”

 

“Feasting and dancing--or so I’m told,” he told her, a smile on his face.

 

Jon suddenly noticed the sound of soft, romantic music playing in the background. He didn’t remember hearing it when he first walked in. When did...

 

Wait, it hadn’t been playing when he came into the ship. Could it be...

 

Hawk, Tank and Scout were playing matchmaker for the two of them. They knew it, but they also knew that the others thought they were being sneaky. Neither Jon nor Jennifer had told anyone they were coming to the Passages for dinner, not even Mentor, so there was no way any of the others could have programmed a musical selection to play. Even if they had, why would they have chosen the jumpship? Wouldn’t they have made arrangements at the restaurant?

 

So that left one other entity to play matchmaker.

 

Jennifer raised her head slightly when she realized there was music playing as well.

 

“That music’s not in our database. Who programmed that?” she asked.

 

Jon smiled. “I think the jumpship is making her wishes known as well by tapping into the Passages’ music library.”

 

Jennifer glanced sideways at him, grinning at the idea. “Think she’s conspiring with the others?”

 

“It wouldn’t surprise me. Hawk may have asked her nicely,” he answered as he stood. He held out his hand and said, “I’d hate to disappoint her. Since there’s going to be a dance at Christmas, and I do believe that practice makes perfect -- Miss Chase, may I have the honor of this dance?”

 

Willingly, she placed her hand in his, and he helped her rise from her chair. He put his hands behind her back and locked his fingers together. He held her close, their bodies swaying to the music. He noticed his belt buckle was rubbing against her. Deftly, Jon quickly removed the buckle and placed it on the table, and they continued to dance. Jon could hold her closer and wondered for a brief moment what a ‘first date’ for them would have been like if there had never been a Dread or a Metal War. It wouldn’t have been in the hold of an antiquated ship, but in all honesty, he couldn’t think of a more perfect spot at that moment.

 

Another song began, and they continued to dance. Maybe it was the way he was holding her, maybe it was how tightly he was holding her, but there was something that Jennifer was sensing from him.

 

“What else is there?”

 

What else? That was the loaded question, wasn’t it. He reached up, pushed her hair behind her ear, his thumb lightly brushing across her cheek.

 

“Dread knows about us.”

 

Jennifer nodded as they continued to move in unison. “You said that. That’s why he sent Larabee.”

 

“I thought we’d been more careful. I mean, the rest of the team know, and they’ve been pushing us to be together. Others are making comments that show they know, but for Dread to know --””

 

“He’d have found out eventually,” she reasoned.

 

HIs fingers weaved into her hair as his palm gently cupped her cheek. “It means you’re more of a target. He’ll use you to get to me,” he whispered. He leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. 

 

She leaned into his hand “We’re all a target, but have you noticed that  Dread isn’t as good at contingency plans as he was years ago? He focuses on one plan at a time now.  He won’t have multiple plans to get to you in play at the same time. He wants to hurt you, and he’ll come after any of us for that one reason. He just targeted me this time. Next time, it’ll be another member of the team. We’ll stop him then too.”

 

Jon wasn’t surprised with how swiftly Jennifer figured out Dread’s motives. Her understanding of tactics had saved them more than once over the years. “Yes, we will,” was all he said as he took her face in both his hands and kissed her. The idea that she was such a big target on Dread’s radar....

 

… the idea that he could lose her...

 

One hand sneaked to her lower back and pressed her closer to him. Much closer. Years ago, they couldn’t have been standing the way they were at that moment. Neither was ready for such a step. Now, after everything, after everything they’d been through, with both of them now acknowledging their feelings for each other...

 

He leaned down and kissed her again. Then the kiss grew from gentle to something more urgent. They were treading on dangerous ground, and physically, his desires were wanting to let themselves be known.

 

The closer they stood, the tighter they held each other -- 

 

And then he stopped. He withdrew slightly and they could look in each others eyes. They’d come so far together, but they weren’t ready to go further than that. 

 

Not yet. 

 

~0~0~0~0~0~

 

Dread didn’t walk as much as he sauntered to a private lab. His plan to destroy the Resistance leadership had been thwarted, one of his overunits had been captured, but the intel he gathered had been invaluable.

 

He’d proven how malleable the human psyche truly was by having a voice over a radio ‘dictate’ what he wanted. It worked once, it would work again.

 

But most of all, the Power Team’s pilot was dead. Knowing what he did of the changing relationship between Power and the pilot, this should devastate Power. That played well into Dread’s long term plan of destroying the Resistance. A Jonathan Power focused on revenge rather than stopping Dread would mean he’d make mistakes, and Dread would take advantage of those mistakes.

 

He still had no idea how Intel was leaking to the Resistance, but at least this mission had been utterly classified. None of the Resistance leaders had been aware that they had been led into a trap. He hadn’t discovered where the leak was coming from yet, but he would. In time. 

 

Once he entered his lab, he secured the door. He didn’t want to be interrupted. 

 

He sat down at his computer and opened the personnel file for Overunit Jennifer Chase. There was a picture of her in her Dread Youth uniform as a Youth Leader along with her background, her school reports, her service record -- recordings of very moment of her life growing up in Volcania. 

 

Chase’s record was more than impressive. Her skills ranked in the top one percentile. She would have been an outstanding commander or, if she had chosen, an unbeatable biodread. Yet something had gone wrong. Something in her training had not been complete. Why did she defy the will of the Machine and join the Resistance?

 

And what was it about her that had Jon’s attention? It was too late to find out now, but Jon’s obvious affections for the female and his predictable reaction to her loss could be used in Dread’s favor, and his next plan would mean Jon would have to be stopped by any means necessary.

 

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