The Misbegotten
The Fermonist - Earth Summer 2385

They had just reached level twelve, snaking between ahuge flatbed-Glider and a municipal Glide-bus.

Flavia said: “Negative on the signature. The damned car isn’t registered in Angel FreeTown. It’s here without properI-Dent.” The fact she could payattention to her Neuro-Nanoswarm and not cause an accident was the stuff of amaster-driver.

“Interesting,” muttered the Heavy. “Well, at least we lost them.”

“Who do you think it was?” wondered Flavia with an offhandedflick of her wrist. She slowed theGlide-car down to a speed congruent to the traffic around them.

Traffic was still moving over 275kph, but all ninenorthbound lanes were full. The twelfthlevel of the highway was busier than the one on the ground level. Commuters chose the broad vistas andpseudo-open air over the massive pylons supporting the structure. It as a rather mundane, if not monotonous,view of the thousands of farms they were passing. Only the Keeper could appreciate theirintrinsic beauty.

When he glanced to his left, Estefan could see thesouthbound lanes were just as packed.

Not muchdifferent than rush hour in 2020…

“It could’ve been anybody really,” he answered, glazingover his shoulder. He peered through thecurved plane of Diatainium reinforced Plexi-glass at the back of theGlide-car. The hulking Glide-busobscured much of his view, but from what he could see, he saw no sign of theextra-long sedan. “There may be manyparties interested in what Dr. Ahmed had to tell us. This includes the other members of the Board,those not employed by us. And the clans,the Burhka’s, even the Yaku Alliance and the Trû-Knights have the tech capableof cracking Optic-mail security protocol. That shit has as many holes as a hundred-year-old whore. It seems only natural someone could’veinfiltrated his security measures. Finding out about our little rendezvous would have been easy.”

The Keeper’s emphasis on the good doctor’s mode ofcommunication belied his unshakable belief in their own. They had, after all, invoked the highestdegree of countermeasures for this meeting. Maybe their contact hadn’t been as thorough as they? As a matter of fact, he knew so. None could firewall information better thanthe Synod.

She half-smiled at nothing. “You don’t think it might have come from ourend?”

It was like she was reading his mind.

“No,” he retorted, his voice clipped. “Jake would’ve detected any intrusion intoour webs. Before the software or thesecurity bots, he would’ve known. Youknow how anal his is about that shit.” Stop being such a brat, Flavia!

“Sonofabitch,” said Flavia under her breath, but itwas loud enough for him to hear.

“What?” he asked, anxious. His one-time step-sister never cussed unlessshe had good cause.

She pointed at 3 o’clock.

He followed her long, narrow finger. His eyes bulged in their sockets. The same sleek, dark colored Glide-car pulledonto the same level as them, using one of the many onramps. It was streaking down the wide thoroughfare,double their speed.

“How in the hell could they’ve followed us?” askedFlavia, incredulity and anger filling her tones. She didn’t like anyone outwitting her,especially if it involved Estefan. Hiswellbeing was her foremost directive.

“It doesn’t matter. They haven’t spotted us yet… just do like Han Solo told Chewbacca –drive casual,” was Estefan’s reply. Being flippant seemed to focus them when they needed it most.

At his side, the long-legged vixen sniggered,following suit. “He told him to flycasual, Eff, not drive, you dipstick.”

“Whatever…”

“Jeez, one visit to Disneyscapes and you’re alreadyquoting the ancient movie lexicon,” remarked Flavia. The play was back in her voice.

Beside her, Estefan leaned forward.

She turned a part of her attention toward theextra-long Glide-car. “Is it slowingdown?” she asked.

His mouth hung slack. How in the fuck…?

“Yeah, they’re slowing,” concluded Estefan,reactivating his Neuro-Nanoswarm. Hisfingers typed complete words atop a keyboard that existed only for him. “I’m gonna shut down this section of thehighway and allow you to drop us as many levels as you deemed necessary to losethese assholes. But the moment we do, Iwant you to put the car in stealth mode. You got it?”

“Just give me the countdown,” was all she said. Her pretty brow furled with concentration.

“Ok,” went on Estefan, “now remember, a systemshutdown, even a partial one, is going to raise a lot of attention. So, be the fuck ready to do what you have todo to get us free and clear.”

She smirked with ire. “Estefan, I wasn’t born yesterday. We’ve done this shit before.”

He ignored her snide comment. His eyes locked on the dark sedan. It continued to cut its’ forward momentum,easing it’s’ way ever closer to them. Itwas changing lanes every twenty seconds or so. Their pursuers were definitely searching for them now.

He waited.

She waited.

The extra-long Glide-car made to change lanes yetagain. For a moment, a construction-Liftblocked the view. It was a bulkycontraption used to lift heavy objects from one place to the next.

It’s afucking crane, thought Estefan, angryat the situation now.

“Now!” he shouted, tapping the holographic “execute”key just as Flavia waved her hand over a small sensor above her head.

Three things happened at once. The highway Grav-accelerators stoppedfunctioning. Their Glide-cars’micro-scales shifted to full-reflective mode. And, they fell like a stone.

Along a twenty-mile stretch of highway, the twelfthlevel came to an instantaneous halt. Thedeceleration was severe, abrupt. Anyonenot secured in their seat straps was dashed to quivering pulps upon thewindshields of their given vehicles. This wasn’t the day and age when people got thrown from cars or busesupon impact with another object. Materials used to manufacture vehicles didn’t fail anymore. Anyone coming into violent contact with acommand consul or a wind-shield was usually dead within seconds.

In the moments following, Flavia let their Glide-carplummet to the fourth level. Somehow shemanaged to replace her way through traffic without smashing into anothervehicle. This made things all the moreproblematic, because no one could see them. They were in full stealth mode. To those driving around them, they did not exist.

Estefan knew he could never have done what she hadjust done. She was the driving genius,not him.

Before he could even divine a thought, his one-timestep-sister turned the wheel of the Glide-car hard over. They rocketed across lanes. They streaked down the nearest off-ramp. She was heading to the third level, in theopposite direction, using a series of twists and turns. She dialed the accelerator hard over, pushingtheir speed over 380kph.

“Take the old 91 freeway,” directed Estefan. “We can head toward the coast and thespaceport using the South Bay Artery, heading north. Contact our people at the Synod Hangar at theport. Have them prep a Skycar for us assoon as humanly possible.”

Flavia didn’t respond. She did as he told her, focused on her ‘Swarm, while avoiding thetraffic that kept swerving into their lane. The Glide-car was still invisible to everyone around them.

They drove in silence for a few minutes as Flaviaedged them toward the right-hand side of the highway. She slowed their rate of speed, preparing totake the connecting bridge to the old 91 freeway, called thus by the people ofthe city. Much of its original concretefoundations remained intact. The massivepylons that held up the multi-level highway were built on top of them. The thoroughfare itself wasn’t old. It was state of the art. But the fact a part of the structure was old- everyone called it “the old 91 freeway”.

“We’re good to go at the spaceport,” informed Flaviawithin minutes.

They had just exited the 5 and were snaking their waythrough the throng of connection bridges when Flavia pointed toward one.

It was lower than their position, but routed trafficthe same way they were going. It was thesame long Glide-car, keeping pace with them. Yet, there was no way possible they could see Estefan and his one-timestep-sister.

“This is getting ridiculous,” mumbled Flavia, realanger making her enunciation harsher.

“Something’s wrong,” the Keeper said. From his Neuro-Nanoswarm, Estefan opened anencrypted line of communication. He usedtheir private channel – one they had imbedded within Angel Free Town’s CommNetyears ago. Only they could access it. What should’ve been an ultra-high definitiontransmission was fuzzy with white noise and a warping image. This was normal. This back-channel line they had shielded onmany levels. There was little else theycould’ve done. They had installed it this way back when he’d been the King ofAngel Free Town.

“This is technician #768971, how may I route yourcommuniqué?”

Before he said a word, Estefan entered the tech’sBadge Number into another database on the screen before him. A small grin developed over the fact thenumber was only six digits long. He’sbeen with us for a while, mused the Heavy. Most of the Badge’s he saw these days had seven numerals. The newest ones had incorporated a letter atthe end as well. He was likely anOld-Timer from back in the day…

The tech’s information checked out. He was Michael Walkins-Rollins. He was born August 19, 2205; currentlyresiding in Angel Free Town… etc., etc.

An Old-Timerindeed!

Through it all the technician hadn’t said a word,which was a secondary measure. A realemployee of the Synod would know whoever was calling on this channel could onlybe a big-shot within the organization. They would assume whoever was calling would be verifying everythingbefore moving forward. It was standardSynod procedure.

“Initiate Alpha-Omega 1, Priority Delta, Serial Number01. This is not a test. I repeat this is not a test,” said Estefan,his voice monotone.

The technician on the other end of the linepaused. His eyes going wide for a splitsecond, realizing his was talking with the Keeper himself.

“H-how may I be of a-assistance, M-m’Lord?” stutteredthe tech, fear creeping into his visage.

“I feel like four scrambled eggs,” he replied, an oddrequest.

The technician didn’t give any outward sign, as thoughhe expected it.

“Have them routed to my position by back-tracing thistransmission. Do not use the regularprotocols. Someone might havecompromised our Comms. Do youunderstand?”

Michael nodded and began typing, furious, onto akeyboard Estefan couldn’t see. Half aminute later, “Done, Sir, do you need anything else?”

The Keeper shook his head. “No, I’m switching this signal to passive,have them follow it.”

“Roger.”

Estefan twirled a finger in a counter-clockwisemotion. The distorted display of thetechnician shrunk and then disappeared altogether on his screen. Only a single pixel continued to blink – atiny indicator the signal was still open, but barely so.

He glanced over at Flavia. “Disengage stealth mode. We’re gonna try some good old fashiondeductive reasoning instead.”

There was a gleam in the woman’s eye. She loved it when Estefan was beingmischievous. It turned her on. She didn’t speak. She waved two fingers over the correctsensor. The Glide-car returned to itsnormal ebon color, startling the drivers of the vehicles around it. Some of them swerved back and forth a few times,before regaining control. It wasn’teveryday one saw a whole car pop into existence, out of thin air.

They merged onto the fourth level of the Old 91. The extra-long sedan did so from a lowerramp. It’s’ driver gunned theGrav-lifts. The vehicle shot forwardlike a cannonball. It closed thedistance between the two Glide-cars in seconds.

“If they can replace us in stealth mode, then let’sresort to speed and see if they can keep up,” urged Estefan. He raised and lowered his eyebrows in rapidsuccession.

“Afterburner?” asked the long-legged beauty.

“Why not?”

He hadn’t even finished speaking, when the adaptiveseat curled about his heavy form even more. The Glide-car rocketed down the freeway, leaving their larger, moreponderous pursuer behind.

“You gonna use the auto-avoidance counter-measures?”wondered Estefan. He was a littlenervous his one-time step-sister was driving without aid at such tremendousspeed for a mere highway. Sure Skycars flew as fast, even faster when theirGrav-scrams kicked in. But, dodgingthrough traffic at more than 1,100kph was downright crazy.

“You gonna pee your pants?” kidded Flavia, a wide grinetching her narrow face. She didn’tengage the avoidance computer and continued to drive with nothing but her wits.

“You never know…,” he replied in kind, peering aboutfor the decoys he had requested. “Where’s the nearest mobile Null-Unit?” he asked on a hunch.

“Null-Unit, why would we need one of those?” shequeried. Her brows knitted.

He stared over at her, reducing the size of his ‘Swarmscreen. “Because if the decoys don’twork, then I have a good feeling what’s following us in that fucking car.”

She thought for a moment, pursing her thin lips. “They’ve got a Fermonist? Is that what you’re hinting at?”

“Uh-huh,” was all he said.

That explainsa lot, thought Flavia. She sent another command to her ‘Swarm andthe processing nanites began to execute her search in an instant.

A Fermonist was a specialized sort of Celeste, a sortof super-tracker, but not in the usual sense. A Fermonist doesn’t use scent as would any other creature following theunique smell of a given quarry. Rather,he hunts by some sort of mental triangulation that homes in on a given person’sgenetic markers. All he (or she) wouldneed was to have smelt his prey in person, once. After that, the genetic markers werehard-wired into his brain. The Fermonistwould never forget it. This gives theFermonist a huge advantage. No amount ofmasking or shielding, even distance in some cases, can foil this Mutation onceit has homed in. They can track foryears, if need be.

And that was what Estefan was beginning to suspect wastracking them now. There was no otherway their pursuers could’ve foiled all their attempts to dislodge them.

How did afucking Fermonist get a whiff of my ass? wondered Estefan, testy over some past indiscretion.

The Keeper’s ‘Swarm screen began to bleep, but its’display didn’t change. It was just asignal. “Ok, Flavy, slow down. Let’s make for the South Bay Artery. Our decoys are a mile out,” he said, killingthe beeping on his screen with a flick of a finger.

She nodded, slowing them back to the velocity of thetraffic around them. “What shufflemaneuver are we doing, so I’m on the same page as the other drivers?”

He told her and she nodded.

They drove on for another thirty seconds. Then four box-like vehicles pull onto thefreeway and surrounded them in rapid succession. From whatever side was facing them came a flimsylooking radio dish. It was much morethan a mere dish though. Appearing morelike flowers than anything mechanical, each of them began to flex andpulse. They swung in all manner ofdirection. For ten seconds nothinghappened. Then, of a sudden, the boxyGlide-cars began to change. They pulledinward and reformed, a glowing sort of clay, unlike anything on thefreeway. Until, over time, they began totake on the attributes of the Glide-car Flavia and Estefan were ridingwithin. It began with color, thentexture, then the shape and at last the details they replicated. In less than a minute, there were five ofthem, hurtling down the Grav-road. Theyappeared so alike they could’ve seemed manufactured, one after the other, on anassembly line.

They began to weave and swerve around oneanother. Slow at first, but gained inspeed as time progressed, as each driver acclimated to the others. Before long they were changing position sofast, even Estefan was having a hard time keeping track, and he was in one ofthe Glide-cars.

Just as fast they stopped.

Flavia counted to ten.

Nothing happened.

They repeated the act again.

Then, she saw it – the sedan, coming on fast. The driver was pushing the Grav-lifts as fastas they could go. Its’ occupants must’veseen them, because it slowed without warning. It swerved across three lanes – the very same the five duplicate carswere weaving through.

“Do the last shuffle right before the connectingbridges to the South Bay Artery. I wanta wide dispersal. I want to be certainthere’s a Fermonist back there and not some lucky bastard,” said theKeeper. In firm tones, he spoke throughthe U-GUARD channel. It was ahigh-frequency comm-link exclusive to Synod vehicles.

Ahead the monstrosity that was the South Bay Arteryloomed. It was by far the largestthroughway in Angel Free Town. Ittowered an incredible thirty-six levels on each of the fifteen levels of thecity. Every single “artery” was twelve lanes wide, in either direction. At ground level, it was the only highway withon- and off-ramps reaching up and out of the four lower levels of thecity. It connected traffic on a wholedifferent scale than all the other highways of ‘Free Town.

Estefan’s smile was tight as he gazed upon the giantstructure, remembering when it as the 405 freeway. Even way back in his youth, the 405 had wonthe title of the Busiest Freeway in the World.

If only theycould see it now…, he thought.

A second later, he sent the “go” warble over theU-GUARD. Like dancers in a ballet, thefive Glide-cars weaved around one another four more times. Then, they rocketed away from oneanother. Each used a short burst ofafterburner, attaining maximum speed within seconds. Each driver took a different connectingbridge to the South Bay Artery. One evengot off the highway system altogether.

Their car could’ve gone faster, but Flavia didn’t wantto make things easy for their pursuers. Flavia knew this. She did notneed telling and made sure they went no faster than the others.

Estefan used his Neuro-Nanoswarm screen to feed himthe live shot from behind their vehicle. He watched, waiting for the curvature of the bridge to end, so he couldsee if the dark sedan still followed them.

Flavia reduced their speed to match the traffic. She merged, tucking into the flow of vehicleson the lowest level of the Artery.

Just before they wedged between a Transport skiff anda gaudy looking street racer, Estefan saw the extra-long Glide-car. It rounded the last curving section of theconnecting bridge in plain view.

“It’s a Fermonist alright,” said the Keeper. “The cocksuckers are still on our ass.”

“Crap!” cursed the woman in black.

“The mobile Null-unit, where is it?” asked Estefanthrough pinched lips.

Flavia’s eyes followed something on her ‘Swarm screenhe couldn’t see. Her brow creased atfirst, but then seemed to go wide with surprise.

“What is it?” asked her one-time step-brother.

“You’re not going to believe this, but it’s parked inthe VIP section of parking bay 167 at the spaceport.”

“What the fuck it is doing there?” demanded Estefan.

She shrugged. “Howthe hell am I supposed to know? Thosethings run completely autonomous, complete with hard-coded programming. They have localized sub-routines remember?”she lectured. “I seem to recall it wasyou who wanted them built that way. Am Iwrong?”

“No, you’re not wrong, god damn it! But the fucking VIP section, do we even haveaccess to it?”

She turned to stare at him with both eyes.

He wished she’d keep her eyes on the damned road. Then, he held up a hand to forestall. “I know, I know, stupid question.” He shook his head, disgusted withhimself. “Is it a quiet place, right?”

“Should be, it’s freakin’ VIP parking. What the hell do you think?”

“I don’t know what to think right now, Flavy.” He rubbed his bald head with his hand. “I’m getting too old for all this madness.”

“Oh, bullshit, stop acting like a baby,” admonishedFlavia. “Come one we got work to do.”

At her side, the Keeper sighed. “Make for the Null-Unit. Hopefully, we can make the transition fromthe car to the unit without everyone in a two-block radius getting shot topieces.”

“You never know, the night is still young, my dear.”

“Ppsssh!” hissed Estefan through his lips. It still didn’t stop him from running a quickinventory of the weapons they had with them. One didn’t get to the ripe old age of three hundred and eighty-four by actinglike an idiot.

He didn’t have more than half a second before hecaught sight of the first contrail at the corner of his eye. Contrail?he had time to ask himself when a second missile erupted from the extra-longGrav-car. Who the fuck uses missiles anymore?

Neither Flavia nor he moved, though.

They didn’t have to. Their vehicle acted for them.

“Threat Ten! Threat Ten! Modified StingerBlock Nine SAM inbound,” chimed the –car.

He was only half-listening. His fingers were flying across the virtualkeys only he could see.

The pervasive use of gravity could thwart technologyas outdated as “seeking” missiles of any sort with ease. The latter half of the twenty-fourth centurywas a time entrenched by the manipulation of that force… in every sense of theword.

At the rear of their Grav-car, a small, circular holesnapped open. A spindle-like, four-inchappendage shot forth. It’s’ tip wasnothing more than a super-condensed version of the Grav-lifts keeping themafloat above the surface of the highway. Once arrayed, it went from dull gray to a brilliant cerulean.

To either the driver or the passenger in the car,there was nothing they could see. To themissiles though, the effect was immediate. As if grabbed by an invisible giant, both streaking projectiles stoppedin mid-air. Their twin-rocket enginesscreamed in protest. So loud, Estefancould just make out the sound through the atmospheric insulation of theirGrav-car.

The missiles only remained static for a shortmoment. Before he could follow, thegravity-well holding them in place flipped. And then, just as sudden, it evaporated. This sent the non-ballistic darts hurtling back the way they’d come.

The driver of the other car must’ve anticipatedthis. He was swerving, air-brakesdeployed to full, the instant theGrav-sensors caught the missiles.

Both rockets flew past. One smashed into a Grav-hauler, pulling fourcontainers, the other flew off into the night. The blast from the first sent the entire –hauler molten in a hundredthof a second, debris and shrapnel exploded every which way. Estefan watched through a thickening brow asscores of vehicles were unceremoniously tossed aside. Dozens of secondary and tertiary blastsrocked the massive superstructure of the Artery.

To the Keeper, they looked like toys.

“Sonofabitch!”

“We making much too big of an impression in Angel FreeTown, Effy,” remarked Flavia.

He grunted, then squinted when the second missiledetonated five miles out over the farms. Its’ proximity fuse must have gone off. Why hadn't their enemies removed the safety measures on the missilesbefore launching? Why? They weren’t conscientiousbad buys if they were content to blow up the entire goddamned highway. Who were these guys, fucking amateurs?

He received his answer a second later.

The front quarter-panels of the long Grav-carunfolded, smooth, fast. Two sets ofweapon’s racks emerged. They bristledwith dozens of dark and very modern looking pointed cylinders.

The Stingers had been a diversion.

These guys were well-funded professionals.

Estefan felt his stomach tighten. “Flavia!” he called.

“I see them!” She waved her hand over yet another sensor. She put their vehicle into “full-auto,maximum defense/evasion-mode”. She spunout of her adaptive seat. Faster thanthe Keeper could follow, she dove for the backseat, a Command Stick gripped inthe palm of her right hand.

Command Sticks created state-of-the-art Weapon Modulesout of thin air. In just about any spacethey’d work, provided there was three cubic feet of it.

“You’re gonna have to move your ass, girlie! We got bad news coming.”

“You don’t think I know that!” yelled Flavia as sheheld the Stick before her. She touchedboth sides with the tips of her pinky fingers.

“Threat One! Threat One! TARP launch! TARP launch!” wailed their Grav-car. A high-pitched warble gave them theimpression the conveyance itself feared for its' life.

Well, itshould be…

“Fuck,” groaned the Keeper aloud.

TARP’s (or Triangulated Replicant-Grav Projectiles)were the absolute worst. Their designwas specific to penetrate all gravity-related defenses. They had made all countermeasures obsoletethe moment of their deployment.

It had been a triumphant day for Milandry Enterprises- one of the Synod’s most voracious competitors. For the first time in many years, the Synod’sown weapon’s division had been “one-upped”. TARP’s had sent thousands of the Keeper's engineers, scientists andspecialists scrambling.

The sensors within a TARP itself could nullify anygravity-well used against it. Theprogramming of these sensors applied a similar “well” in response. Only this “well” was set in direct oppositionto the one used against it. This waseffective in “cancelling-out” the defensive measure. Propelled at hyper-sonic velocities, therewas only one mechanism capable of safeguarding against a TARP. Even then, it wasn’t one hundred percentreliable.

“D-Shields deployed!” screamed their Grav-car’s ‘Swarm.

“This better work,” urged Estefan.

Flavia was too busy to respond.

D-Shields were “genius level”, self-duplicatingpreventative measures. They were theonly technology that could hope to stop a TARP. In actuality, they didn’t stop them in the true sense of the word. Rather, they deflected them until theycontained them.

D-Shields were remarkable beyond belief, manufacturedonly by the Aegis Synod. It was the useof next-generation, smart Diatainium that made it so. This was a neat way of saying the ‘Swarmsprogrammed into the Shields were so mighty, they were borderlineself-aware. Their probability matriceswere so fast, they fired almost as fast as the Neurons of a Human brain.

Once a TARP struck the deflecting field of a D-Shield,the ‘Swarm within the Shield would predict where the hyper-sonic bolt wouldhead next. Immediately, it would move todeflect it again. By every third orfourth deviation, the Shield would be able to duplicate itself. Thus, it left yet another surface to “bounce”the TARP away from its’ intended target. Over a short duration, a complete “cocoon” will develop about theTARP. This was effective by containingit within. When the dart finally lostvelocity, it would merely “fall” to the bottom of the now spherical D-Shield –harmless. At least that was the hope.

Problems developed when the probability matrix of agiven Shield predicted a ricochet in an improper fashion. Since TARP’s are so dangerous, the outcome ofsuch a miscalculation was always horrendous.

Estefan’s orbs remained glued to the virtua-HUD on hissim-screen.

Eight TARP’s, four from each weapon rack, burst tolife and streaked from the pursuing –car. A quarter of an eye-blink later, eight D-Shields “popped” from the rearbumper of their vehicle. At once, theShields expanded. They orientedthemselves fifteen degrees upward relative to the oncoming missiles. By now, the TARP’s were no more than moltenslag within a high-powered electromagnetic field set to disengage upon impact.

The Keeper braced himself as everything seemed tohappen at the same time.

All eight TARP’s struck a corresponding D-Shield.

Their Grav-car swerved across seven lanes oftraffic. It went afterburner to completethe maneuver without hitting anything.

Flavia settled into a new-formed Weapons ControlModule. It hadn’t been in the backseatseconds before.

The Heavy counted as all eight D-Shields “caught”their respective TARP’s. Each begantheir intricate dance of deflection. Each slag-bolt ricocheted off the impenetrable Diatainium surface of theShields. Then, they ricocheted offanother – again and again. The D-Shieldspheres began to form almost at once. Theytrapped the TARP’s, lifting them up into the night air, above the flood oftraffic on the highway.

Then, eight more flashes caught his attention. The extra-long Grav-car banked of a sudden,bringing their conveyance into range. Eight more TARP’s catapulted toward them.

“D-Shields deployed!” quailed the ‘Swarm.

The scene before him repeated. Eight more interceptions, eight morecontainments. The D-Shields liftedTARP’s above the congested freeway.

“Flavia, do something!” he ordered, accessing thecity-grid. He was trying to see if theirmini-battle on the Artery had alerted Public Safety. They had! There were at least two score ground units dispatched and double that inthe air. Shit, things are going to get bad, real soon.

“I’m trying! What do you think I’m doing here, picking my ass?”

Eight more TARP’s flashed.

Fuck!

Their enemy was done playing games, hoping tooverwhelm their D-Shields. Eight moreTARP’s fired on the heels of the second volley, followed by eight more, theneight after that.

Estefan re-opened their private channel on Angel FreeTown’s CommNet. He felt the back oftheir Grav-car vibrate as an equal number of the Shields “popped” to block theincoming slag-bolts.

“Michael, you still there?” he asked into hissim-screen.

The first D-Shields began to interact with the TARP’s.

“Never left, sir,” came the clipped reply. The blinking pixel once again turned into thefuzzy video feed from before.

More Shields “caught” their targets.

“We need Synod security forces down here at once,”commanded the Keeper.

More interceptions, more deflections – their enemyfired another round, then another.

“Already en route, Lord Keeper – ETA: twelve point twominutes.”

More Shields arrayed – a lot more! Their Grav-car’s‘Swarm must’ve anticipated the enemy’s tactics. It was jettisoning many more of the countermeasures than wasnecessary. It was smart, though. It was the only thing to do.

More TARP’s screeched from the weapon racks behindthem.

Estefan frowned. “How is that possible?”

The entire freeway behind them was now clear ofvehicles, all twelve lanes were filling with Shield spheres. The TARP’s were bursting with brilliantcascades of light each time they rebounded off a Diatainium surface.

“Lord Keeper, Synoddess Cervantes has been monitoringthis transmission for the past four minutes. She’s using a passive trace. Designated as Alpha-Omega 1, Priority Delta, Serial Number 02. That makes her Aegis grade…” He paused to clear his throat. “…Just as you, my Lord.”

Still, more TARP’s came.

Estefan didn’t reply. He minimized the video feed back down to a single pixel, shaking hishead. Well, she was only in orbit above the earth…, he was thinking whenone of the D-Shields misinterpreted the course of its’ TARP.

The molten slag streaked upward into the underbelly ofthe highway above them. The electricstorm that followed was as bright as starlight.

It hurt Estefan’s eyes – and that was a hard thing todo to a Heavy.

It was a horrific thing to see. The slag-dart ripped through the two middlelanes of the twelve-laned freeway. Theexplosion and the bolts of generated-lightning struck into the traffic below. There were hundreds of electrocutions, allcooked alive in their –cars or –buses or –skiffs.

The Grav-fields failed at once. This sent every vehicle down into theemergency suspension-nets a meter or so below the former surface of theroad. Most of them were saved.

A few, the heaviest of the transports overwhelmed thesystem. Unseen generators squealed inprotest to keep those ponderous monsters aloft – to no avail.

Another round of deflections flickered behindthem. Huge Glide-haulers, over-long bus-trains,Grav-trucks and many, many more specialized conveyances fell from the upperlevel and onto theirs. Collisions,explosions, pulverized bodies, tremendous heat and flames stretched back as faras the one-time brother and sister could see.

“Do you have them?” asked the Keeper through clenchedteeth. Though they had left Angel FreeTown years and years ago, it was obvious Estefan was still possessive ofit. It had been, after all, his handthat had raised it from the ashes of war and famine.

Flavia didn’t answer. Her fingers, like a pianist above his keys, never stopped moving overthe Weapons Interface.

Then, their Grav-car shuddered beneath them.

The Keeper watched as single Mark 97-Super G,anti-Grav Torp ejected from a hard-point somewhere within their vehicle. Its’ warhead was already searching for thespecific gravitational signature of the elongated chase car. The Guardian had been imputing its frequencythe entire time.

The chasing Grav-car turned aside, pure violence,trying to avoid the large weapon. Inmoments, its occupants raised a Beam-Shield. It was their hope its electronic “thrum” would be enough to confuse theSuper G’s homing mechanisms.

It worked – almost.

Instead of a direct hit, the torpedo slammed into therearmost section of the –car. It wasn’ta killing blow though. It exploded forthe most part in the storage compartment of the vehicle. Unfortunately, this was well armored. Thus, most of the Dia-Therm Hybrid warhead’sdetonation remained within. But, it didserve to disable one of the rear Grav-lifts. The other three had to compensate for it. This was no easy task. It forced the extra-long Grav-car to hover atan angle ten degrees to the right. Italso meant their enemy couldn’t travel any faster than one hundred and fiftykilometers an hour.

Within a heartbeat, Estefan and Flavia left thembehind. There were few vehicles thatcould keep up with their modified Merc-Ford 5500 at full capacity. A hobbled –car could not manage it.

“Someone’s going to feel my foot up their ass forthis,” grumbled the Keeper.

His one-time step-sister extracted herself from theWeapons Module. She snaked her way backto the driver’s seat. She flipped herhair behind her ears, settling into the adaptive chair. “Fucking audacious,” was all she’d say.

“Imm-hmm,” agreed the Keeper through pursed lips.

She didn’t take over navigation of the Grav-car rightaway. She left their conveyance inauto-mode and began checking all its’ many systems instead.

Estefan had anticipated this. “Our course is still true. We’re spot on for the Null-unit.”

“We gonna need it,” she said. She nodded her head at the hundreds offlashing lights. Public Safety had atlast descended upon the scene.

“Go stealth, Flavy. Get us the fuck out of here.”

She flicked her fingers over the correct modulator andtook control of the –car. The Spaceportwas already in sight, though it was still some ten kilometers away.

A long silence ensued. They were both immersed in thought. Who could’ve done this? Why? Who had the means? Who had funded a Fermonist and such advancedweaponry like the TARP? Who hadcompromised Dr. Ahmed’s security?

What were they getting into?

Flavia breathed a few heavy breaths, then sighed, ahuge exhalation. “They killed a lot ofpeople, Eff.”

He nodded. Helooked out the window, trying to replace solace in the farms. He failed.

“They’ll pay. We’ll replace them and they’ll pay.”