Stephanie was tucked in the front corner of a small boutique and used the large decorative curtains on each side of the picture storefront window to hide as she looked up and down the street. Someone had been after her, but it seemed that there also happened to be someone magic there to help as well. She had no idea what to even think at that moment. On instinct, she’d simply ducked into the first place she could find and hid. She didn’t want to end up in another incident like the last one where she brought even more attention to herself. On the contrary, she tried desperately to get away from all that. That was one of the points of moving forward.

  As she looked out the window, a woman’s voice spoke behind her. “Excuse me, can I help you? Are you all right?”

  Stephanie instantly straightened, glanced around, and realized that the boutique was actually very high-end and most of the pieces in there were things she wouldn’t have ever bought before because of their price tag. She licked her lips and turned with an apology on her lips but a familiar face cut it short before it had even begun. It was the mom whose son was the little boy at TimeWarp that day.

  The woman clamped her hand over her mouth and giggled. “Oh, my goodness, you’re her!”

  Stephanie grinned and glanced over her shoulder to confirm that the man had gone. “I wanted to pick out a new outfit. How is my magic friend?”

  The woman chuckled. “My name is Anne and his name is Brandon. He’s doing really well. He tries to think of things as beautiful and he has felt the energy whenever we go to Meligorn through the pods. He still talks about that flame, though—all the time.”

  As they talked, Stephanie selected a long-sleeve Henley and a fleece vest that could be worn over it for a little more warmth on the cool days. She went in the back and tried it on, then, on impulse, walked out and showed Anne. “Does it look good?”

  Anne smiled sweetly and nodded. “Oh, that’s on the house. You look fantastic and I can’t express how much you changed my son’s life. Just those kind words and him being able to see and feel the energy up close. I have to keep an eye open that he isn’t trying to do it, though. Burning the house down would not be the first act of magic that would make me happy.”

  They both laughed and Stephanie walked with her to the accessories. She picked out a hat and a pair of glasses and looked at herself in the mirror. Once she’d checked the tags, she scrabbled in her bag and handed Anne a debit card. “These are great. I can wear this right out of here.”

  The woman smiled with genuine care as she ran the card and handed it back to her. Stephanie couldn’t help but look at her fantastic, wide-brimmed hat and giant movie-star sunglasses. This would later be the moment that could be pinpointed as marking the beginning of her love for the fashion industry.

  After several hugs and a written note for Annie’s son, Stephanie left the store. She looked around to make sure no one was waiting for her. The breeze blew and she held her hand on top of her hat, glanced over, and caught her reflection in the window. She looked like she belonged in an old movie, not at all the normally normal Stephanie she had always been. In fact, she looked older, and actually very nice.

  She smiled and put her hand out to call a cab.

  “Yes,” the voice said, “she is home safe. But eliminated who looked like they wanted to grab her. I tried to question them but none of them would offer anything—most likely because I used magic to knock them out. I’ll keep her under surveillance, but it will be expensive.”

  “Do it,” a woman’s voice said. “The boss wants to make sure our most important researcher makes it to work on time.”

  The guy chuckled. “As always, it’s good doing business with you, E.”

  He hung up and walked into the shadows.

  On the other end, Elizabeth held the phone close to her for a moment before she turned once more and covered her nose with her black-leather-gloved hand. The insurance agents were at the warehouse, walking the burned, blackened concrete where the building had been. There was barely anything left of the special research room, which completely broke her heart. That pod had been perfect, and while she knew another would be made, it still made her sad.

  Her phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out with a sigh. She clicked the on button and put it to her ear. “Hi, Boss. It’s a total loss… Yes, I can find something a lot better… No, there is no security in hiding in plain sight. We were discovered much faster than we expected.”

  Her head shook and she paused to look over at the rubble. “Next time, they better bring a small army.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The NorAm Navy was primarily funded in its entirety by the Federation. Although each country had their own set of laws and rules, these were, in practical terms, more a façade to make the separate countries feel as if they still held a solid piece of their freedom within the Federation. Even the Federation seats were primarily held by Americans, but they always spoke of themselves as NorAm.

  There were three main campuses for the NorAm-Federation Navy, with several other small institutions primarily in outlying areas near Canada and Mexico. The main headquarters was in Washington DC, the second, a recruiting and administrative outpost located near the very old Langley complex, and the third situated on Level 0 of the Meligorn-NorAm docking facilities.

  The base in Langley was plain and no frills, with a few docking areas for spacecraft and the rest dedicated to airships and flying cars. The recruiter vehicles were mass produced by the Federation Car Company—flying sedans with few extras—and most were dented or damaged from the careless traveling the recruiters did on a regular basis. These recruiters, though, were not given this duty station because it was primarily land-based or as a reward for successful missions. They were strategically chosen from the System based on test scores, comprehensive exams, and most importantly, the ability to speak with other people in a manner which was almost car salesman-like.

  They were charged with the responsibility of enlisting the next generation of recruits for the navy. With its not always positive public persona, it could be challenging.

  In one of the conference rooms at the Langley base, six recruiters sat around the table. Papers were strewn everywhere, coffee mugs half full, and notes scribbled and crossed out. These were the head recruiters, those who sent their subordinates out to get the job done. On occasion, they would go out themselves, but usually, it was only on matters handed down the chain of command with very specific instructions that required their personal attention.

  On that day—and the several days leading up to that—they found themselves smack dab in the center of the busy season. School was ending, and the majority of kids within NorAm would decide on college loans, military enlistment, or the drudge of manual labor. The team first reviewed those who already showed an interest in the military. These had already made the effort to go into one of the small-town recruitment offices and taken their tests.

  Thompkins pushed herself back from the table and rubbed her face. “I feel like the masses that stream into the recruitment offices this time around are almost useless. Sure, we have more than enough morons to send out to deep space, but what about the rest of the positions? This is why I think the Federation needs to institute military academies in high school. Give those who are really interested the ability to spend their time working on shit that matters.”

  Holland, the man beside her, chuckled. “And they’ll turn into the same bullshit they did two hundred years ago. Oh, little Bobby can’t behave, throw him into military school. Then we have nothing more than a group of delinquents on their own for the first time. I’d rather take my chances on the idiot with no IQ who basically drools on himself but whose muscles are big.”

  Thompkins smirked and threw a pen at him. “You would think of the muscles.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Get serious here. Shit.”

  The other team members chuckled and the leader, Conrad, waved a stack of papers in the air. “Remember, we have already gone through these and made our choices. The remainder will be set aside to fill any last-minute sections we might have screwed the pooch on. They don’t exactly like us too much down in the Gov-Subs. At least, the parents don’t. So we won’t get every single one of them, even though they already took the tests.”

  Taylor chewed on the end of his pen and balanced on the back two legs of his chair. “All right, so what’s next then? We have the guys who already came to us.”

  Conrad put four stacks of paperwork down. “Right, so this time around, the powers that be want us to look into those who are already ‘in world.’ You know, the ones who have had a year of this and have practiced with the simulations and shit.”

  Thompkins leaned forward and curled her lip into a sneer. “Why would any of them give up their fancy-ass prep school education to come out here and serve the Federation? They are in the lap of luxury. Trust me, I was once there. I still don’t know how I ended up here.”

  He chuckled. “That would be true if we were looking at those guys. But instead, we are looking at those who didn’t make it past their freshman year. Those who washed out. Of course, we want to look at exactly why they washed out. We don’t need any more Grants in this bitch.”

  Grant flung a piece of paper aside and glanced up. “Huh?”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” Conrad smirked. “We don’t want anyone who can’t cut it in the service but we all know that prep schools are notorious for a hell of a lot of demands and little structure. It’s not shocking that people fail right and left. We provide the structure they need.”

  Taylor bounced his pen in the air. “What about those three dudes at Pinnacle? You know, the ones who couldn’t get past the Dreth ship mod but were hard working, relatively intelligent, and good with a gun?”

  The team leader flipped the pack open and tapped on it in thought before he slid it over to Taylor. “Apparently, these fools went balls to the wall during the summer session and ended up passing the simulation. They technically made their sophomore stripes, so I doubt, after all that, any of them will chomp at the bit to sign up.”

  Thompkins grabbed the paper and looked down. “Really? They passed? I did not see that coming. They must have put their shit together fast to pass that sim. The last time they took it, according to our records, they lasted a whole twelve minutes, including the space flight time from one ship to another.”

  Conrad shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess their parents lit a fire under their asses or something. The summer session ain’t cheap, that’s for damn sure.”

  Taylor pouted. “Pity that. We could have had some good raw meat.”

  Everyone chuckled although no one had any clue as to what had really happened. They hadn’t watched the simulation of the passing grade, nor would they. All they cared about was whether they passed or not. They obviously didn’t know that Stephanie had been the one to help them through and earn their coveted pass—something they might have found interesting had they known—but nonetheless, the kids’ files were simply thrown aside.

  Brown flipped through the rest of that stack. “So, is there anyone in here worth looking at? Any beauty school dropouts who might make good on the front lines or anything?”

  Conrad drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “There are a few hopefuls in there, and one or two who have already taken the tests. We’ll keep our eyes on them and see where they go. And maybe send some of the new guys out to talk to the others. They should be past the woe-is-me bullshit for failing by now. But remember, most of these kids went because it was expected, not because they actually needed to. Their mommies and daddies own half the private sector. It may be a waste of time.”

  The sixth guy, Chavez, came back into the room, carrying a box of donuts. He took two and plopped the container down in the center of the table. “It was like fighting wolves to get donuts this morning. Have we found the next captain? Next hero waiting in the wings?”

  Thompkins snorted and reached for a donut. “About as hero as Taylor over here.”

  Taylor tilted his head at her. “Do you think you need that donut there, sweet teats?”

  She put the donut on her napkin and chuckled before she swung wide with her leg and knocked his chair over. “Call me that again and I’ll show you what these sweet teats do to your ability to have kids.”

  Conrad groaned. “Children, can we focus here? So, the other area was the Bank Test in the Games System on the Federation-wide pods. As you may remember, along with several other of our tests that we constantly have running, anyone can play them. It can be, at times, a good way to see if there are any diamonds in the rough—working factories by day and hard-core fighters in the pods at night to let off some steam.”

  Brown stood and wiped the powdered sugar from his chin. “So, I’ve spent my nights and days monitoring the system. I would say that eighty percent of the sessions started either never finish or do so after so much time has passed that it is almost impossible to see who the winner is. At any given time, the system runs over seven hundred games at once, depending on who jumps on in the pods and at what time. Out of all that, we identified two possible teams.”

  Conrad flicked on the 3D screen which automatically dimmed the lights. “Team number one. They managed to deliver the robbers to the police department only twenty-two minutes after entering the simulation. Here is their footage.”

  They watched as the team used strategic moves to head through the different levels, teamwork to capture the robbers and keep them in their custody, and tactical weapons to power through the last set of hopefuls who sat and waited to intercept the robbers so they could claim the victory. When the replay ended, he went through each of the players, detailed their stats, where they were located, and any background that might be helpful.

  Thompkins raised an eyebrow. “They’re solid but they have no experience. Where did they learn this shit?”

  Conrad pulled up the team leader. “Anthony Hammerstein. Twenty-three years old. Graduate of North Junction Prep School with a degree in tactical combat and a second in business. He said he liked the combat stuff. He was a poor kid from the subs and went back there to work for the family business.”

  Thompkins shook her head. “No one can ever escape that shit, even with a prep school education. Real shame. Real shame.”

  He flipped the footage. “Here is team number two. Note the completely different tactics.”

  The team watched them play and grimaced as they took heads off at every pass and used a grenade at the end to blow the gangs to chunks. Technically, they killed the cop too, but they got the robber into the cell. After that, they spent the next ten minutes congratulating themselves and doing dumb-ass dances over the dead avatar bodies.

  Taylor chuckled. “As much as I like a smart-ass, considering I am one, these guys are douche bags.”

  Holland agreed. “We already have a cockiness problem in this branch, and it would only get worse if we searched them out. Those guys will get someone killed.”

  Thompkins raised her eyebrows and nodded. “I’m afraid I have to agree.”

  Brown made a slicing motion across his throat. “No good, bro, no good.”

  Grant swiped his hand like he used a sword. “All I want to know is why can’t we have one of those swords out there fighting the Dreth. Take out some kneecaps. But yeah, no on those douche canoes. The slots for assholes in this military regime have been filled, mostly by the guys in this room. And you too, Thompkins.”

  She winked at him and grabbed her crotch before she looked at Conrad. “So, the first one’s a yes.”

  Conrad pulled the files and laid them out in front of them. “Good. We’ll get some guys to head out to…Missouri, Maine, Arkansas, and what’s left of Texas to try to talk to those guys. I assume they all know each other, even if it’s only in system chats. We’ll offer them training as their team if they all sign up.”

  Brown grabbed another donut. “So, we get the specials from the recruiters, right? All the lower ones are simply spread out.”

  Conrad nodded. “Yeah. We take the special cases, those we think could be more than fodder but we never really know for sure. I suppose it will be up to them once they get in. We can’t make them good soldiers but I tell you what, for some of them, the military life will be leaps and bounds above their lives in the trenches of these falling-down shitholes.”

  The other man shrugged. “As someone recruited from the shitholes of Detroit, I would have to agree. We have air conditioning, food whenever we want it, uniforms, friends, and ain’t gotta pay a cent for it. Not to mention that the Federation’s sad pathetic salary and benefits feel like striking it rich compared to scraping by in Gov-Subs, not knowing if assistance will show up or not. I definitely feel lucky.”

  Thompkins smiled at him and liked that he was so down to earth. “So, is that everyone? I feel like this week’s round of picks is as weak as hell.”

  Conrad tapped his papers on the desk. “I swear it’s the nuclear shit out there. Everyone seems to be even lower on the IQ trail this year—and that’s not limited to the Federation Forces.”

  Taylor scoffed. “Because they know what happens. You go out and maybe you come back if you don’t get eaten by some big-ass Dreth—”

  Brown put up his hand. “Hold up. We missed one from the Bank Simulation. It looks like one person—alone—beat the test.”

  Everyone scoffed and shook their heads. “Yeah, right. That isn’t even possible.”

  He grabbed the tablet and swiped over it to locate the footage and leaned back.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  “Here you go, Miss Morgana,” the school secretary said and gave her a wink as she passed her an envelope.