“Do you want the full list, or just the highlights?” Arliss retorted, with no real heat in his words.

  Offante chuckled, feeling some of the old camaraderie returning.

  “I’ll send someone trustworthy to retrieve them tonight.” He extended his hand across the desk. “Our top goal is to help our people, Arliss. That hasn’t changed.”

  Arliss clasped Offante’s hand.

  “Just keep my son out of it. Whatever ‘it’ is. And if you know anyone in these Pikers …”

  Offante’s neural implant vibrated against his temple, a silent alert from the shop’s security protocol. Someone had entered through the rear. His enhanced hearing picked up the familiar cadence of his oldest worker.

  “Perfect timing,” he murmured, releasing Arliss’s hand. “I want you to meet my most reliable associate.”

  Offante tapped a sequence on his desk console, deactivating the privacy field just as the office door slid open. A tall teen with fire-red hair twisted into a ponytail stepped inside with a defined swagger.

  “Deac—” the boy began, then stopped when he noticed Arliss. His posture shifted, the confidence replaced by a more subdued demeanor. “Sorry, didn’t realize you brought someone back here.”

  “Never apologize for a happy coincidence,” Offante replied. “Arliss, this is TimBob. Best employee I’ve ever had. Handles my most sensitive distribution routes.”

  TimBob nodded with respect, his catlike eyes evaluating the older Blend with careful neutrality.

  “Sir.”

  Arliss extended his hand.

  “Good to meet you, TimBob.”

  “He has a particular talent for ensuring medical supplies reach those who need them most. He believes in the sanctity of Blend lives.” Offante observed the interaction. He was springing this job on TimBob. “He’ll handle the retrieval and distribution.”

  TimBob accepted Arliss’s handshake, his expression giving nothing away.

  “Whatever the job, you can count on me.”

  “And your discretion.”

  The boy shrugged.

  “That, too.”

  Offante decided to boost his protégé’s confidence after being broadsided.

  “Not even my own son, if trained from when he took his first steps, could handle this job with the professionalism of TimBob.”

  TimBob shifted his weight, glancing between the two older men.

  “What are the details?”

  “Soon enough. Why don’t you go check on Jaxson? I’d hate to think he’s alone with a customer.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  After TimBob slipped out, Arliss turned to Offante with a dire stare.

  “He seems young for such responsibility. How long has he …?”

  “Age is just a number,” Offante replied, watching the door close. “Especially in the Servo District. TimBob’s a revolutionary. A soldier hardened to the most delicate of challenges. If his passion seemed absent, rest assured. Your presence caught him by surprise. He warms up to friends, but gradually.”

  Arliss stifled a laugh.

  “You don’t need to sell me on him, Offante. If he does the job and my family doesn’t have to carry this burden, I’ll be satisfied. One challenge down, one to go.”

  Offante noticed the twitch in Arliss’s fingers, betraying an anxiety his face worked hard to conceal.

  “Something else on your mind?” Offante leaned back on his stool.

  Arliss glanced at the ceiling, then the corners of the room.

  “Your dampening fields … they never fail?”

  “A perfect record.” Offante tapped the small device on his wrist. “Triple-layered countermeasures. Audio scramblers, visual distortion fields, in addition to the dampeners. We could plan a revolution in here, and all they’d record is two old friends discussing air filter maintenance, assuming I chose to provide them even that much drama.”

  Still, Arliss lowered his voice.

  “Something happened the other day. Something I can’t explain.”

  Offante raised an eyebrow, curious now. Was Arliss about to unload? He hadn’t counted on this extra goodie.

  “Go on.”

  “After I left your shop, I was followed. EQ officers in civilian clothes. They cornered me not far from Rollo’s stand. Hauled me into a maintenance corridor.”

  “Nothing good could come of that. Continue, friend.”

  “Five of them. They weren’t there for a welcome home chat or a mild interrogation.”

  Offante shook his head in mock disgust.

  “Typical EQ slag. Did you …”

  “I defended myself, dropped three of them,” Arliss continued, “but one pulled a weapon. He was going to put me down.” He paused, visibly struggling with the next part. “That’s when it happened.”

  “What happened?”

  “They just ... appeared. Two of them. Tall, blond-haired, nothing like Tets. Never heard accents like that. Had to be off-worlders. The enforcers were dead before I could blink … no sound, no weapon discharge I could detect. Then these ... people ... they told me I was too important to lose and that I should hurry home.”

  Offante maintained a strategically stunned expression, though his pulse quickened.

  “They killed five enforcers. Right in front of you?”

  Arliss nodded.

  “Said they’d take care of the bodies and the security nodes. When I checked yesterday, there was nothing. The corridor was clean.”

  “And these people. Can you describe them in more detail?”

  “Taller than any Tet I’ve seen. Perfect skin, almost luminescent. Like people who spend a lot of their lives out in the sun.”

  Offante chuckled.

  “Rules us out.”

  “They spoke ... differently. More formal, almost archaic, but it was our language.” Arliss leaned closer. “They said they’d see me soon. Then just ... vanished.”

  Arliss snapped his fingers.

  Offante let a long moment of silence pass, his expression deliberately skeptical.

  “Have you ever heard of the Messiahs?”

  “Those old myths. Strangers from another dimension who pop in and out of our reality.” Arliss waved dismissively. “Bedtime tales for Blend children.”

  “Exactly.” Offante shook his head. “As the stories go, these Messiahs have a long game to free the oppressed and unleash their potential on the universe. Myths created to give people hope when there was none. Nothing more.”

  “Yeah. Sure. But I know what I saw, Offante.”

  “Trauma plays tricks on the mind.” Offante tried to be gentle. “Five years in Rogue 19, then thrown back into a district more hostile than when you left. Stress, exhaustion, maybe lingering effects from prison meds, or simple neural degradation from overworked servos. Some explanations negate the fantastical.”

  Arliss frowned, clearly unconvinced.

  “I don’t want to believe it, but I’m not going mad. And I heard the rumor about EQ looking for five of their own. Ah, fring it. I shouldn’t be talking at all, but I can’t tell Meera the truth, and it’s eating at my gut.”

  “I believe you experienced something,” Offante conceded. “Just not mythical saviors from beyond the stars. I suggest you keep that tale under wraps for now. Especially since you’re in need of employment. No sense in others getting wind of Arliss Dubai’s delusions.”

  Arliss’s posture shifted, a straightening of his spine, a new alertness in his eyes. Something shifted.

  “One strange bit I’m sure of,” Arliss said. “You told me to avoid the northern perimeter on my way home. Told me to take the route through Rollo’s Nutrient Stand. I thought it was strange how Rollo’s was closed when I got there, but the enforcers zeroed in. Seems odd how you’d make that kind of mistake.”

  Ah, so my friend did come with a double purpose. Let’s see now …

  “Oh, Arliss. I had no idea. To be honest, I don’t remember suggesting the alternate route. It was late after a very busy day. I might have been confused. Rollo’s schedule does vary. Yes. Actually. That was his short day. You’re not suggesting I …”

  “Set me up?” The ex-con’s smile did not seem accusatory. Not yet. “On my first day back? What kind of bastard would do such a thing?”

  “A bastard indeed. No, I suspect you were tagged from the moment you stepped off the transport. EQ rodents are everywhere these days. They like having a little fun with welcome parties.”

  “Huh. Especially when the guest of honor wears blue.”

  “Dreadful business. If I’d had more notice of your return, I’m sure the network would have been in place to look out for you. A network, I remind you, that’s eager to have you as an active participant. Think about it, Arliss. We’re all in this together.”

  Did his friend find the story convincing? Offante saw no evidence one way or the other. But Arliss left without pursuing the matter of the attack any further.

  For the best, my friend. Too much at once will overwhelm the senses.

  Offante tapped a neural port behind his left ear. He awaited until he felt the requisite vibration and whispered to no one present.

  “He confessed. You were right. I apologize for doubting. I’ll be available in the usual place.” He chuckled. “But of course you already knew that.”

  He tapped off the port.

  More pressing business at hand, I think.

  He called TimBob to the back. His senior inventory specialist – it seemed like a lovely title at the time – entered with a sneer.

  “You should have told me he was here, Deacon.”

  Yes, the kid deserved an explanation.

  “Voice down, please. Play it like a pro, as we’ve discussed.”

  “Why? Wrench is down with the beat.”

  “Settle, friend. You’re not in the nest. His name is Jaxson in here. We can afford no slips. Understood?”

  Offante appreciated TimBob’s frustration. He ruled the Pikers without challenge; a subordinate role grated on his tender nerves.

  “Sure. Yeah. Sorry, boss. I … Arliss Dubai has our goods?”

  “The entire family, apparently. But not without Kip’s fine work. You should be proud of the young man. He went above and beyond.”

  “The kid exceeded his role. He disobeyed Em’s fringing orders.”

  Did Offante detect a hint of pride in TimBob? No, just my imagination acting up.

  “You demand courage from your little revolutionaries. I’d say Kip Dubai is not just courageous but an excellent improviser. What do you call him in the nest?”

  “String.”

  “Good one.”

  “If he’s such a great improviser, how did the case end up with his dad?”

  Ooh, yes.

  Offante recognized his oversight.

  “I’m not clear on that point, but Kip certainly had no intention of working the side market for himself. If I’m right, his parents will keep the boy close for a few days. But he’ll earn their trust, make promises he can’t keep, and return to the fold. Allow him that grace, TimBob, and fete the boy when he enters the nest.”

  TimBob clutched a brace of his hair, which fell onto his chest.

  “Sure, boss. He’s still one of us. So, about the meds. What’s the plan?”

  ***

  Urns after the shop closed, Offante dropped down into the mezzanine where he slept often. This basement of sorts wasn’t another hidden room; it existed in the gaps between official building plans, constructed during the early days of the Servo District when desperate Blends learned to carve out secret places amid the Mega’s unruly architecture.

  He placed his palm against an unremarkable section of wall. His servos connected with the hidden security system, exchanging authentication codes that changed every urn. The wall slid back with barely a whisper and opened into a room which glowed a soothing red.

  Offante enjoyed the stark isolation, away from the noise and constant strategies. He allowed himself a bed, a food churn, a lamp, and a few personal accessories. No surveillance could see this place; it was a technological dead zone. For now, he’d pass on a late meal, and he was much too wired for sleep.

  Time to face the music.

  Three people knew of this room’s existence; he was about to meet the other two.

  He felt them before he saw them.

  “Jumping in from behind again?” He asked. “You know I hate that.”

  The two figures stood motionless, their heads a mere inch or two from the low ceiling. One male, one female. Beautiful creatures, at least to others of their species. Or so he assumed.

  Human beings, but not necessarily.

  “Our jump calculus is precise to within a unit, Offante. Had we arrived ten simps earlier, we would have greeted you at the door.”

  “I don’t pretend to understand your calculus or how it’s even possible. Here’s what I know: You used me.”

  “No,” the female said. “We proved our case. The meeting occurred as forecast, to within simps and eens.”

  Offante didn’t trust the woman. Her cadence made his spine tingle. Too perfect. Too measured. Who knew a sales pitch better than he?

  “I could’ve gotten my friend killed.”

  The male tilted his head, the gesture birdlike.

  “Yet he lives.”

  “Because you intervened! Five dead enforcers, and Arliss saw everything.” Offante paced the small room, his modified heart rate increasing despite his attempts to regulate it. “He came to me with questions I couldn’t answer without lying to his face.”

  “Your performance was predictable and inevitable,” the female said. “Your denial was convincing while still planting the necessary seed of doubt.”

  Offante stopped pacing, turning to face them directly.

  “You never mentioned this part of the plan. Using me to manipulate Arliss.”

  “Would you have complied if we had?” The male’s tone suggested he already knew the answer.

  The question hung in the air between them. Would he have? For the cause, perhaps. For the future of his people. But to betray a friend?

  “The Dubai family is central to what comes next,” the female continued, her perfect features arranged in what might have been an attempt at compassion. “Arliss needed to see us. To question his reality. To begin the process of acceptance.”

  “And nearly die in your process.” Offante’s hands clenched into fists. “Five enforcers. The uppers will not let this stand.”

  “The probability of his death was 12.7 percent,” the male stated with clinical ambivalence. “An acceptable risk given the importance of the outcome.”

  “Acceptable to whom?” Offante snapped. “I ask you the simplest questions. Your origin. Your goals. You give me less than crumbs.”

  The two exchanged a glance, a silent communication that Offante couldn’t decipher.

  “Two peoples will emerge from this fight,” the female finally answered. “One will find liberty. The other … dominion. And from both? Peace.”

  Offante sank onto the room’s single chair, suddenly exhausted.

  “That’s obtuse. Care to explain?” He sat through their silence. “Lovely. And the boy? Kip? Did you anticipate his actions?”

  “The son walks a path parallel to his father,” the male confirmed. “Different but essential. We saw a high probability the neural conditioners would find their way to him.”

  “And now father and son share a secret,” the female added. “The first thread in a vital emerging pattern.”

  Offante ran his hand over his face, feeling the weight of manipulation, both theirs and his own.

  “What happens next? More tests? More traps?”

  “The natural course of events will accelerate,” the female said.

  “With the Dubais at the center,” Offante concluded. “For reasons you’ll never disclose.”

  “Causality limits what we dare reveal.” The male nodded, the movement too smooth to be human. “This confirmation of our forecasting accuracy should reassure you. When we forecast your role years ago, you were skeptical then too.”

  “And look how well that turned out,” Offante muttered.

  “You must manage events carefully,” the female said, ignoring his sarcasm. “Guide but do not force. Protect but do not shelter. The coming days will test all you have built.”

  They tapped the sides of their respective necks and popped out of existence. A smart man would assume he was in the middle of a dream.

  “I hate when they do that.”

  Sleep would come in time, but not until after much consternation. The revolution was never closer.

  6

  ARLISS

  NO MORNING SUN filtered inside the Mega or cast long shadows inside the Servo District. No such thing would happen for another four months. The Shade Cycle’s early days challenged most people, but not Arliss – one benefit of five years beneath a lunar surface.

  He stood before the small mirror in his cramped bathroom, adjusting the collar of his jacket. The reflection showed a face etched with weariness despite three days of relative peace since Offante and his boy TimBob made the stolen meds problem disappear.

  Family day. Sky Gardens. Nothing to worry about except maybe every Tet who’ll stare. Who doesn’t love a coming out?

  He smoothed his fire-red hair and practiced a guarded public smile. In a few urns, he’d start work at Praxis Load in Mecha – a position Offante secured through connections Arliss preferred not to examine too closely. The thought of this job, menial at best, churned his stomach. Five years in prison, and now he’d crouch over broken machinery, trying to rebuild a life from spare parts.

  Honestly, what did I expect? Admin? Domo?

  “Ready?” Meera called from the kitchen. “The plots are uncrowded in the early urns.”

  Arliss stepped out to find her packing a small container with nutrient infusers and hydration packets.

  “Sure you want to do this?” he asked, voice low. “We could stay here. Avoid the gawking masses.”

  Meera paused, skeptical amber eyes meeting his.

  “You exaggerate. You were a minor object of curiosity for about three urns. Memories are short in Sinquin.”