She gazed at me with desperate, sorrowful self-loathing behind her dark brown eyes. She bit her top lip as her bottom trembled.

"Ricky?" I faced her. "You did this for Ricky Riordeeno? The kid who hangs around the Sink, getting old veterans to buy him Junk? The same kid who's been to jail already and hasn't even graduated GenEd?" I remember the sleazy, lanky eighteen-year-old kid with limp hair that hung around his pointy jaw. Handsome and cocky, he was aiming all of his charm at Moyra. Moyra was gorgeous and intelligent beyond his capacity to comprehend. He was a snake.

She let out sobs in little gasps.

"Where did you leave it?"

"I don't know."

"What did you leave it by?"

"A tree, I think."

"You think?"

"I don't know, we were just driving around, and we stopped and ran when we saw the lights."

"How did you even manage to get it out? Why did you go out in the first place?" I was starting to panic, too.

"It was a dare." The last world trailed off. Her eyes darted to her lap where she squeezed her hands together, wringing them nervously. She anxiously scraped the blue-and-silver polish from her thumb.

Despite the fact that I wanted to strangle her, I knew there was nothing I could do to make her feel worse about this. She already was beating herself up enough for the both of us. I grabbed my boots from the corner of the pod and shoved my feet into them quickly, not even bothering with the laces.

"Stay here." I threw my arms through my raggedy gray jacket.

"You don't even know where it is."

"I know how to track it. Just promise me you'll stay right here. PIM me if anyone starts to wonder where I am or if you hear any news." With that, I flung myself against the broken door and ran through the Rotunda, not stopping until I had reached the threshold of Level 1.

It was late evening. I remember that clearly.

Heavy surveillance kept the hatches well out of the reach of URE youth. But what a lot of the guards and higher-ups didn't know was that just a few rooms over, there was a loose panel in the hangar wall that could easily be lifted out of its place and pushed aside to let in the lithe body of a single teenager. Or a group of them in single file.

I remember my days sneaking out of the URE at night. Dean always expressed his disapproval, but I always chalked it up to the fact that he was too big to fit through the aperture and was, therefore, a wet blanket about it.

In the darkness, I slipped easily through the opening into the night. The stars and wind greeted me with a cool push, throwing my hair around my face. The November air bit my skin in a way that the damp warmth of the URE never allowed. In comparison to being Topside, living in the URE could feel like living inside a mouth with hot breath circulating around crooked, unclean teeth.

I opened my hand to tap around the files on my PAHLM. The current list of vehicles in use showed nothing abnormal. They were all VRAPs—Vehicles Resistant and Ambush Protected. The heavy-duty stuff. Six of them were out for salvage and other miscellaneous errands. The interesting bit was that the three active jeeps were numbers 5, 6, and 9. Normally they were taken in order. Unless 7 and 8 were busted, it was my assumption that 9 was the one that had gone out for a joyride.

I wondered if anyone had started raising the alarms yet.

Most people didn't know how to use the vehicle locators, but as I was studying for Central Command, I had to know all of the mundane, innocuous little nuances of the militia.

I sent out the tracking pulse and immediately got a hit—four-and-a-half klicks south-southeast. I trod carefully, sticking to shadows and avoiding open spaces as I'd been taught. The night sky was dark and starless as the clouds rolled fitfully over the earth. It was the worst type of night to be out. The Invaders hid behind clouds like rats hid behind pipes. They could see us, but we couldn't see them at all.

I listened carefully, moved with quick steps from tree to broken wall, and back to tree. Since humanity had made its descent into the ground, the world had become overrun by nature. Nature doesn't produce enough heat to make my signature unrecognizable to the Invaders. The rubble is even worse.

To them, I probably looked like a plump red fruit floating on an ocean of nothingness.

Lights blinked in the distance. The silent shots from the Invader ship were not as far away as I'd hoped they'd be. What I felt could have been a clean sweep out and back had suddenly turned into something potentially catastrophic.

I ran forward. This vehicle needed to be found and returned for Moyra's sake and the URE's. A running machine could mean disaster for us. It could lead the Invaders right to our door if they found a piece of our backward technology.

The lights continued to flicker miles away. If I had to estimate, I'd say around eighteen, maybe twenty.

It took awhile, but I found the jeep, its motor running quietly under a tree. I PIM'd a quick message to Moyra.

FOUND IT BACK SOON

[Incoming Message: MWHITE]

HURRY -- WORRIED

The lights flashed closer and longer. The rattle shook my balance as I stumbled toward the open door and closed myself in with the faintest tap. The noise, as minuscule as it could be, resonated throughout the city's shell. The concrete walls ricocheted the sound from brick to brick. The lights from the Invader's shots paused momentarily.

Looking around, I took stock. No one used Jeep 9, and I had suddenly figured out why. It was an old model, no windows, rickety doors, no roof, no heavy gun mounted to the back. This was just a car—a four-wheeled death-trap.

Bad news. Really, really bad news.

I pushed it into reverse. As I cleared "the tree" Moyra had noted, my body felt the push of something massive displacing the air pressure and disquieting the streets. I couldn't see it, but I knew it was lurking there behind the clouds.

Without pausing for my heart to catch up to my hands, I slammed on the clutch, threw it into gear, and attempted to fly out of the small area of trees to burst into a nearby clearing. Silent lights flashed behind me.

My hope was to lead them away, get them as far from the URE entrance as possible. I hoped the pile of shit would hold itself together long enough to do just that.

Pushing the jeep into sixth gear and turning onto a major road, I hit the accelerator and bolted down the empty streets. Moving fast to find its prey, the small Invader ship broke free from the black clouds—the chase was on.

White lights rained down meters away from my rear bumper when I took a sharp left. Rock and debris whirled as I propelled the truck over piles of stone. My bones rattled over the old monument stairs I crushed under my tires.

The lights flashed brighter. My hands danced around the steering wheel, moving left, right, left again. I avoided sunken pavement, abandoned cars, and broken pieces of relics from the Before Days.

And then I saw what lay before me. It was perfect.

I came to a long, endless stretch of road. There was nothing in front and nothing between me and the Invader ship. At that point, I was still young. I hadn't really known what it would be like to suffer at the hands of war. I wasn't a full Reaper. Not yet.

"Great plan so far, Lorn," I whispered to the empty space as I turned in my seat to find anything that could be useful.

There was nothing in the back seat except a duffle full of teenage bric-a-brac. A half-filled bottle of Junk Juice fell to the floor as I pulled the bag into the front with me. The bag was not hers. It was blue, old, and tattered. It had large sneakers and other assorted, wrinkled boy items. But nestled like eggs in a chicken nest were two more full bottles of the noxious purple stuff. What the hell was Moyra thinking?

"We're definitely going to have a talk when I get back." My empty threat collided with the wind as I sped on.

The lights nipped at my heels. The massive ship appeared in streaks of gray and moonlit shadows behind me.

I rifled around for anything that could be of any use in my current predicament. Anything.

There was another flash, this time blinding. I swerved off the road in panic. I'd never engaged the enemy before. Not like this. Not on my own.

I got back on the road, hoping to continue to lead them away. Where would I take them? I hoped that they would grow bored of the chase and let me go, but for some reason, I didn't think that was something they did. I didn't really think this through.

Target acquired.

Target destroyed.

That was Invader objective.

It was still behind me.

I reached all the way back, as far as I possibly could go. My fingers stretched for anything I could use.

I touched a blanket. Something very hard and cylindrical hid below it.

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Holy fucking Heap!" I cried as I ripped off the blanket and let my eyes feast on the incredible luck I'd just uncovered.

Large, layered in dust, and antiquated beyond hope, were three old M72 LAWs. Rocket launchers were definitely going to come in handy that night.

Looking out the back of the Jeep, the Invader's ship loomed close and hovered overhead. The moon gave it a naked gleam. This one was smaller. Quicker. Most likely a drone. I was always told it was the little ones you needed to be most scared of.

Pushing and stretching my body to the limit, I tried to pull the LAWs closer to me.

I grabbed the first one, wrapping my whole hand around its body.

"Fuck!" I shouted into the night. It was used. It was dead. It was useless. That was always the problem with these old Anti-Tank rockets. One and done. I needed something immediately.

I tried again, grabbed the other one.

"Fuck! No!" I screamed louder. The second one was used as well.

The Invader ship lowered until it was level with me, maybe only six meters off my tail. The white rain returned. For a brief second, just for the tiniest bit of time, I noticed that the ship was wide and small, just as large as my jeep, but made of strange jagged lines. I'd never seen the Invaders so close before.

One last time. One last chance. My fingers stretched out to the point of pain as I felt around. I grabbed the final barrel.

It was loaded.

With my knees steadying the steering wheel, I stuffed the duffle bag on the accelerator and pulled myself out of the seat. I pulled off the rear cover, yanked the strap and felt the tube shoot open. With the trigger armed, I hoisted it to my shoulder. I couldn't miss. It was my only shot.

It came straight into my sights.

I fired.

The rocket sped through the air in a puff of smoke.

It hit.

The drone hurled left, mid-air. The crash slowed as if I were watching it through water. Metal pieces spiraled through the air on impact with fire and sparks that brought an early, broken sunrise.

It was beautiful. Hot on target. The best thing I'd ever seen.

Sliding behind the wheel with a smooth jump, I turned the jeep around.

I tapped a new message into my PAHLM.

ALL SET -- COMING BACK

Things were going to be just fine.

Twenty minutes later, the jeep broke down under a bridge. After a solid hour of tinkering with the engine and kicking the shit out of the front bumper, I ended up calling SCOPE TOP. I asked them to come get me—the jeep was irreparable, and daylight was fast approaching.

TR team came to extract me and the busted piece of shit.

The first one on the deck was, of course, the Watch Commander.

"We all want to blow those dick-skinning sons-a-bitches outta the sky, Lorn," he screamed. "But . . . not . . . on . . . my . . . watch . . . Are we clear?" His spittle struck me in the eye more than once.

"Aye-aye, Commander."

Propping his hands on his hips, he stared down at me. It wasn't over yet. "You had best un-fuck yourself because you . . . do not . . . impress me. Do you read me, Lorn?" He pushed his nose inches from my face, as I stood at attention. "Get her theee fuck . . . out of . . . my sight."

Dean brought Moyra down to the prison cells on Level 9 when I'd finally been brought back to the URE. She wept the entire visit with her face buried in her hands. She didn't even look up at me until she finally heard me shout her name. Her eyes were red and puffed. Together, they waited for me to come home.

"I don't want you to hate me," she sobbed, stepping toward the cell.

"Why would I hate you?"

"Because I'm such a freaking idiot." Her words blended with her tears.

"You are an idiot, but I don't hate you, Mo. Just stay away from fucking Ricky. If there's anyone I hate, it's that mouth-breather."

Dean chuckled in the background.

Moyra refused to be quieted. Fat tears streaming from large eyes flowed down her cheeks. "You could have died."

I gave Dean a sideways glance, silencing him.

"That's a risk I agreed to take when signing up for the militia."

"I'm going to enlist."

"What?" I was startled. Little Mo? Sweet, innocent Mo who cried often and was still slightly afraid of the dark? Mo was going to join Earth's Militia?

"I keep doing stupid things that get me in trouble. I'm going to join so you don't have to keep risking your life for me anymore."

"Mo, that's a terrible reason to enlist. And you can do plenty of stupid things even when you're in it." I gestured at my surroundings.

"I want to do it."

I physically pull myself out of the chokehold the memory still has on me. That girl in my past is not the one who stood before me today. That girl is a sister I lost long ago. Whoever this new stone-woman is, it's not the one I grew up with. This woman is no more human than ARC10.

Hayomo and I maintain our brisk pace back to the URE. A single, simple, resonance disturbs the silence.

[Incoming Message: *WITHHELD*]

THEY ASKED -- I SAID YES

IT'S WHAT YOU WOULD HAVE DONE