She had never expected to become such an accomplished criminal. Her pulse was steady, so different from the drumbeat of her heart on the eerie night three years ago when she had first begun sneaking into this warehouse.

     When one's life -- and the lives of others -- depended on keeping secrets, one's ethics evolved. You adapted. You pretended. You became a damn good liar.

     Blueray swept her manicured hand through the glowing hologram to add her authentication symbol and send her message out to hundreds of people. People like her, who struggled endlessly to find ways to cripple the United People's Guard. Thanks to the UPG, wisdom and compassion were being replaced with chunks of data. Conforming and maintaining the population on the spacecolony had become more important than individual human lives. The Guardians had drained all that was good in the spacecolony since their violent rise to power nearly a decade ago.

     Three years ago, they took her husband.

     Her secrets had been born that daycycle, the photosphere shining harshly on the somber faces of her fellow mourners as she stood over Rand's shrouded body. She had watched dry-eyed as his form was jettisoned toward the sun, taking with him her joy, her belief in the inherent goodness of the human race, her innocence.

     She dimmed the hologram and blinked away the old memories. She couldn't change the past. But she would continue to do all she could to change the future. A future existed, she believed, without citizens being arrested in their homes, disappearing forever. Without Guardian brutality in the name of efficiency. She would do whatever it took to help bring that conviction closer to reality. She might not live long enough to see it, but her greatest hope was that her son would. She dreamt of a future where she and Jonathan would be free to have a home together.

     Hopes and dreams were not what drove her to the Warehouse Level week after week. An icy hatred gave her focus and had frozen her heart for three years. When you mistrusted nearly every person you drew into your life, it was easy to lie.

     She moved her sketches back to the center of her silver metalplas desk. She'd developed the routine of leaving simulations of costume designs, ornate party décor, and other indicators she’d been there to arrange details of a party. It wouldn’t explain why she came to the warehouse in the dark, but it might be enough to distract any curious UPG visitor during daycycle.

     "VEXUS, off," she whispered. The holopod powered down, leaving the room in darkness. With movements made sure by habit, she stowed the device behind a wall panel, half-hidden beneath a metal shelf heavily laden with rolls of newlace. Also out of habit, she passed her fingertips slowly over Rand's photoglyph, resting within the dark recess. Then she sealed them both inside.

     She moved around the props necessary for the carefree persona she had created with the name she’d been born with, Rebeka Patin. Plascrates and pods filled with fabric samples, holiday centerpieces, platinum trays, portable lights, and other gala supplies were stacked in tight rows. She slid around mannequins and racks of waitstaff uniforms she knew stood between her and the door. Silently, she pulled open the door and stepped out into the dark alley.

     And stepped into a nightmare.

     She had made it down two steps when blaser fire singed the grating at her feet. She fell backward, landing hard on her hip, and blinked to dispel the flashes in her eyes. There was a large silhouette running through the alley toward her. What is happening? The hollow humming in her mind was pierced with the whine of more weapons as three UPG soldiers rounded the corner. Her paralysis ended with a scream as she scrambled back to the door.

     The metal door turned orange-hot as blaser beams pinged near her hand. Grace, there's nowhere to hide! I can't let them find me here! Not here!

     Her head jerked upward at the screech of ripping metal. She watched, frozen, as an address plate fell toward her.

​

*****

​

     Beka's head throbbed. She resisted the urge to touch her forehead and kept her eyes closed as she listened to them talk. She tried not to move, not to alert them she was awake. Blood and fear soured her mouth, and she fought against nausea. She tried not to move, not alert them she was awake.

     She could feel a restraint across her chest, binding her to a seat. She could feel acceleration, hear an underlying drone, as if she were in a vehicle of some kind.

     "What in seven hells are you going to do with her?" a man asked with a deep voice.

     "I don't know, I don't know. I couldn't leave her in that alley, not with three unconscious UPG and a head injury."

     "You should have left her at that medicary."

     "I would have, but I swear I heard her whisper my name."

     "That makes no sense. How could she possibly know who you are?"

     "None of that matters now. I just have to think."

     "Thinking has worked out so well for you, so far. You've made a kuffin mess of this."

     "How could I have known she was in there, in the middle of the nightcycle? I'll get the schematics to Nik Silvan, as planned, then I can think about what to do with her."

     Thoughts about what they might do with her caused her to gasp.

     The men stopped talking. They know I’m awake.

     She opened her eyes. Bright, blurred images spread before her. She was looking at the vidscreen of an airship. How is it daycycle already? How long have I been asleep? Slowly, she turned her head to her left and stared at the pilot.

     He was a terrifyingly big man. He glared at her and demanded, "How do you know my name?"

     "I... don't... know your name. I don't know anything about you. I won't... tell anyone anything."

     "You said my name while you were out."

     "What? I don't know your name, I swear."

     "Lady, I heard you say 'Jonathan'."

     Grace, I said Jonathan's name out loud? Her terror only deepened. But years of hiding her feelings – and hiding her son – had prepared her to think quickly.

     "Jonathan is a friend. I must have been thinking of him. Not you. I don't know who you are. Just... let me out."

     A dark scowl drew his brows together. He turned to stare at the image on the vidscreen without responding. She tried to slow her breaths and glanced around to find the other man. She saw two other seats behind them. Empty. She saw two doors -- one behind the two seats, leading further back into the small ship, and one in the wall beside her. An exit.

     Slowly, quietly, she searched for the clasp on the seat harness across her. I should do something before the other man returns.

     "How's the head?" the pilot asked.

     Beka touched the bump above her right eye gingerly. She couldn't let them think she was vulnerable, though she did want this man to relax his guard. She had to handle this carefully until she knew more about them. "It's okay."

     The pilot scowled at her, again, eying her forehead. She suspected he didn't believe her, so she lowered her hand and looked away.

     "What in hellation were you doing in that alley?"

     She jerked, accidentally releasing the clasp. He didn't notice, which gave her a seed of hope. She focused on the vidscreen and saw they were traveling slightly above a huge flat surface. It didn't look like a landing area. There were green plants on every side of them, more plants than she'd ever seen in her life. Can this be the Farm Level? Plants were actually spread on the ground, not in modules. She couldn't understand which level of the spacecolony they were in.

     "Where are we?"

     "Earth."

     "Earth? The planet Earth?" Why have they brought me here? She couldn't imagine a reason they would bring her to the ravaged planet at the center of the colony's orbit, but she knew it wasn't anything good. She glanced at the man again. Some big men were surprisingly fast. But he was focused on piloting the ship. She would be faster.

     She pushed the harness away, spun out of her seat, and had her hand on the controls of the hatch before he turned.

     "No, don't! We're too fast--" The roar of the wind drowned out the rest of his words.

     Her long hair whipped across her face as she watched the ground blur beneath her. The vehicle was larger and more powerful than she had realized. Maybe the abundant green and brown plants were just what she needed. If I can jump far enough to reach them, they should break my fall. The ship shuddered as he tried to reverse thrust, and she knew she had no more time. With a deep breath, she threw herself out of the slowing airship.

     The plants were not as soft as they had looked, but they did absorb some of the impact. She rolled several times, stalks snapping and poking and scraping, bitter leaves getting in her mouth and nose. Finally she stopped and lay writhing, gasping for breath. Her headache had become a vise pressing into both sides of her head, though against all odds, she didn’t feel any broken bones.

     She pushed herself up through the strange, pungent vegetation. I have to get away from them. After one quick glance to see the gray ship landing hard in a cloud of dust, she turned and ran. She saw a wall of trees ahead. So many plants. So many trees, and they aren't even in treetowers. As frightening and alien as they looked, the trees would, at least, provide a place for her to hide. If she could reach them in time.

     She struggled through the waist-high stalks, squinting to focus through the pain in her head and legs. I have to reach those trees.

     "Stop!"

     They were already chasing her. She looked over her shoulder toward the ship and could clearly see the pilot would reach her before she would enter the trees.

     She threw herself down to the ground, ignoring the new scrapes to her hands and face. She crawled toward the trees as quickly as she could. Please, don't let them find me.

     Unlike her, the large man could forfeit stealth for speed, and Beka could hear his thrashing, moving nearer and nearer. She pushed her body flat to the ground.

     "Well, this is just great!"

     "What did you expect? She was going to say thank you and sit quietly?"

     Beka heard the voices getting louder. She was afraid they'd soon hear the thundering of her heart. When the voices became weaker, she realized they had passed her. A surge of relief fell over her like a blanket, and she relaxed onto the musky soil.

     With the relief came a clear realization -- there had only been one man chasing her. There had only been one man on the ship. The pilot had been talking to himself. He’s mentally unstable. Thank grace I was able to get away.

     A cool, gray shadow fell across her. She looked over her shoulder and saw a United People's Guard vehicle fly overhead. Another rumble of thrust reversers told her it was being landed near the man's airship.

     "Grace above! How did--?" she heard the man cry out.

     "And you thought things couldn't get any worse."

     "Listen, lady! I hope to heavens you can hear me. Stay where you are! Those are UPG patrollers. It'll be bad for you, if they know you're with me. They've already seen me, I'm sure, so I'll lead them into the forest. Just stay where you are until that patrolship leaves! If you walk back along the road, you should find a village before long."

     "Think she heard? What if she's hurt worse than she let on?"

     "I won't have a chance at all if I wait here any longer. I'm sorry, lady! I was trying to keep you safe, I swear. Just stay hidden until they leave. I'll come back and help you, if I can."

     The voice was getting fainter, the sound of thrashing more frenetic. He really was leading them into the trees, away from her. Maybe he’d never planned to hurt me, at all.

     She closed her eyes and rested her throbbing head on her forearms. She could barely believe any of this was real. How far will I have to walk for help? She didn't even know which continent of Earth she was on. Do they even speak Unity Standard here? If she found a village, how could she explain who she was, what she needed? She could give them money if they could process her IDPak. She glanced at her wrist. Where is my IDPak? Did I put it in my pocket? She didn't feel it in the pockets of her tunic, so she reached up to her shoulder to see if she had fastened it there. Where is it? The wide band was not in her pocket nor fastened to her clothes or wrist. Did I drop it? She looked through the leaves, frantically brushing her hands along the ground, trying to find the small datatab.

     Before the thought was fully formed in her mind, she was running. "Wait!"

     The pilot was almost to the trees. He stopped at her call and turned around, disbelief clear in his stance.

     "Please wait!" she called again.

     She waded through the plants as he resumed his dash into the forest. He's going to leave me here. Straining against the painful snags, she tried to run faster.

     He stopped, turned, and sped toward her.

     Time seemed to be moving too slowly. The stalks of green grabbed at her leggings, slowing her down. Go! Go! They're coming! She couldn't let the UPG question her. She couldn’t risk them discovering Rebeka Patin was the rebel cyberspy Blueray.

     Suddenly, she felt the pilot's grip on her upper arm. He yanked her through the traitorous plants without a word. Her panic blinded her. She ran where the strong grasp on her arm pulled her.

     He slowed when they reached the trees, breathing heavily as he pushed dark vines and branches out of their way. It seemed to Beka that Earth itself wanted them to be captured. Each breath of the strange air was agony, each step brought a new scrape, a new bruise. Still he pulled, and still she followed.

     She nearly fell when he stopped and lowered his hand. She sagged beneath his grip, but she stayed on her feet.

     "What the hell next?" he whispered.

     A wide strip of water spanned below them, thick underbrush sloping to its bank. How strange. This looks like what’s called a river in the vids. She pulled herself straight while he looked around. His scowl grew murderous as he looked behind. Then she felt the tug on her arm lead her down to the water. They pushed and slid through strange bushes and tangled vines until they reached the water's edge. Then he pulled her to the right.

     She found it easier to run in the fringes of the water, and their footprints were swallowed up after every step. She wondered if he was pulling her through the water intentionally, if he had some sort of plan. She struggled to catch her breath, but he forced her to keep moving and slowed only when they reached a large tree that had fallen partly into the water. He pulled her into deeper water to wade around it. Once past the tree, he moved back toward the bank, pushing through some brush. He fell to his knees beside the rotting tree, pulling her down with him.

     "They're not... professional... trackers," he panted. "That was a low-altitude patrolship… probably from a spaceport near here, not Unity. But... they'll have sensors, and we'll never outrun them. If we lie in the mud... our body temperatures and silhouettes might not scan."

     She stared into his wild eyes, wondering if this was part of some delusion he was having. But she was slowing him down with each step, and she didn't see they had many choices. She hoped he knew what he was talking about and nodded. The torment on her arm ended as he used both hands to scoop sand and mud from beneath the fallen tree, pushing it to dissolve in the water. He slid to the ground and disappeared.

     "Come!" He reached out a hand out for her.

     Oh, grace, help me. She looked back across the huge log and remembered the danger that lay in that direction. I can't let them question me. I have to do this. She lay down on the muddy ground and felt him pull her under the huge tree.

     One arm snaked around her waist and yanked her face down and partly on top of him. With his other hand, he covered her mouth to quiet the jerky gasps and moans she couldn't seem to stop.

     She kept her eyes tightly closed. She didn't want to see what they were lying in. The heavy, acrid smell made her skin crawl. At least, I don't have to put my head in the mud.

     Her moans stopped. Perhaps it wasn’t an accident he was keeping her out of the worst of the grime with his body. Her breath calmed, and she laid her fingers over the large hand covering her mouth. He slid his hand away, and she tilted her head to nod at him. He tapped her lips to warn her to stay silent, then frowned and pushed aside her wet hair where it was matted in the wound on her forehead.

     She willed her body to relax. She believed he was trying to help her stay hidden, and movement might negate the effect of the coarse, sandy mud making them invisible to the UPG sensors. If the mud is helping at all. She pushed the frightening doubts away and focused on her shallow, even breaths.

     He stretched his arm to pull nearby plants toward the log, then squirmed to pull the two of them further from the opening. But he jerked and stifled a groan. She reached across his chest in the direction he had moved and found a sharp rock the size of her palm. She pried it out of the ground and slid it away from his back.

     He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. She felt the muscles in his chest relax slightly, and his breathing became steadier.

     Suddenly the tree moved, pressing down against Beka's side and pinning his arm where it lay across her. His body clenched in pain, and she arched her back to provide as much space as she could for his arm without alerting whatever or whoever was above them.

     "They couldn't have come this way," a man said as he paced the huge log. "You can see there's nothing but swamp ahead. Even a moron like Jon Castil wouldn't risk going through a swamp or swimming in a river with night approaching."

     "Major, there's no sign of them to the east. We're seeing nothing but small animals on the sensors. They must have gone westward."

     There were a few moments of silence as the Guardian listened to some type of communication device. Then he said, "Well, they're not here, either. They must have found a way to cross the river, or they're swimming downstream."

     "Yes, sir. We'll search for signs a little further east, then we'll meet you at the ship."

     "Seven hells, let's go. There's no kuffin way they went further east. They would have left tracks. And we'd be seeing them on the sensor."

     "I'm going to check a little further. Orders."

     Beka turned her head slightly and saw the man's boots as he stepped over the brush hiding them. She was afraid to breathe. The pacing resumed on the tree above them. She pressed her face tightly against the man's shoulder to keep herself from crying out. Hold on. Hold on.

     Within minutes, the soldier returned. "Let's go."

     The tree rocked slightly as the other man jumped off. Beka shuddered and pressed herself tighter against the pilot's broad chest. Hold on.

     After several long minutes of silence, he whispered, "I think I hear the patrolship initiating."

     She lifted her head and listened. The unmistakable roar of a powerful engine made her shiver and clutch his tunic. A second rumble followed. Are they taking his ship? But as the roars dropped to a whine, and then disappeared, she relaxed. The tense muscles in his broad chest and arms felt solid and safe, steadying her.

     What am I doing? She released his tunic, suddenly aware of how she was pressed against him.

     "Try to slide out," he said. "Be careful."

     She took a deep breath and reached her fingers into the damp earth. She inched away from the pilot with difficulty.

     "Want me to push?"

     "No. I'm getting there. If I can reach that little tree..." She wriggled until her fingers could wrap around the narrow trunk, and she pulled.

     Grace, I'm disgusting. She lay in the strange, bright gold sunlight and tried to catch her breath. She frantically rubbed her hands on her tunic, then wiped cold slime from her face. Get over it. His plan worked. She was alive, and not in an interrogation cell.

     She sat up and stared at the shadow under the log. While he was stuck underneath, she had a good chance to get away from him. If she ran back into the trees, he might not be able to track her. But where would she go, surrounded by the swamp, the river, and the Guardians? No IDpak, no locator, no funds. She remembered how he'd called out his apology, while she had lain in the alien plants, urging her to stay hidden as he led the UPG away from her. She remembered the way he had squeezed her shoulder when she moved the rock from beneath his back. Her instinct had been to move closer to him under that log, not away. But why?

     She reached a hand under the huge log, and felt his fingers grip it. She pulled.

     As he slid out, she could see he was filthier than she was. His short, dark hair was saturated with mud; his jacket glistened in the sunlight. He sat up and reached behind his neck to swat away some insects. He shuddered in revulsion and mumbled something.

     She reached behind him to wipe bugs from his hair, but he quickly pulled away from her hands. Why did he do that? She wasn't even sure why she had reached to help him. The universe had not made sense since she'd stepped out of her warehouse.

     She concentrated on pulling pieces of decayed bark from her own hair. "I hope I never have to do that again in my lifetime."

     He glanced at her and nodded. Again, he mumbled something she didn't catch. It reminded her of the strange way he talked to himself.

     "But it seems to have worked," she offered.

     "Yeah. But I have no idea what to do next. My weapon and communicator are still in my ship. I don't even have a locator with me."

     "Well, personally, I'm going to get some of this mud out of my clothes next."

     Beka stood and walked to the water's edge. She peered into the clear, shallow water, but didn't see anything moving. Waiting isn't going to make this any easier. Slowly, she waded into the cool river.

     When she felt she'd gotten her clothes as clean as she could, she turned back and saw he was also in the water, close to the tree. She trudged back to the bank and sat down to wait, her arms crossed. I hope the quick-dry claims about this tunic and leggings are true. Her wet clothes were making her shiver, despite the warmth beaming down on her from the incredibly strange, incredibly large blue sky. So this is the blue sky referred to in the Freestander recognition codes.

     She watched him rinse his hair. The man had kidnapped her and brought her here, dragging the UPG patrollers behind him. Why did he bring me to Earth? How am I going to get out of this? Why did he pull away from me when I swiped at the insects on his back?

     He didn't seem so threatening anymore, though she knew better than to trust the way people seemed. She wasn't sure, yet, which of her nine categories of men he fit into, which she usually could discern in minutes, and which allowed her to control any situation. But she could trust facts, and the fact was he hadn't hurt her. So far. And he'd come back for her, when she was struggling to catch up with him in that field.

     And he kept my head out of the mud.

     She had no better option than to stay with him for now. She didn't know anything about him, but she knew less about this planet. She would keep her distance, alert to any threat he might pose; but in the meantime, she would use his knowledge of Earth and its dangers. Staying next to this river did not seem like a good idea.

     She watched him wade back to the bank and pick up his jacket from the sand. He wiped mud from it and shook it, then dropped to the ground a couple of meters away from her. He gave a loud sigh and stared up, frowning, at the blue sky. She followed the direction of his gaze and was surprised to see Unity. The spacecolony looked like a small lumpy golden cylinder reflecting light from the planet's sun, suspended above the broadest horizon she'd ever seen or ever imagined.

     "I have no idea how far we are from help," he said.

     “Do you think they took your airship?”

     “Sounded like it.” He sighed. “We couldn’t go back to it, anyway. We need to get as far away from that road as we can. And as far away from here. It won't be long before they realize we didn't go west, and they'll be back."

     "But they wouldn't try that hard just to find you or rescue me, would they?"

     "Rescue?" He frowned and looked away, his large body rigid. "I'm going to get you back home as soon as I can. Though I guess there's no reason for you to believe that." He scowled at her. "There was no time to think of anything better. I didn't know how badly you were hurt, and I had to get you away from those dead Guardians. But when I got you into my airship, I heard you mumble my name, and I thought you knew who I was. I couldn't take a chance you might report me if I brought you to a doctor. My original plan was to come here, so I did." He stood up abruptly, his fists clenched at his sides. "We can't go back the way we came. And apparently, we can't go further east into the swamp. We'll have to cross the river."

     "But isn't that where they'll be looking?" She pushed herself up.

     He stared across the water. "Not for long. And that's the way I was heading. There will be people I can trust there, at least."

     "But... where? Is there a housing cluster near here?"

     "Sort of. I can't explain. But the sooner I get there and do what I came here to do, the sooner I can find some way for you to get home."

     Isn't that exactly what I want? I certainly don’t have a better plan.

He had saved her from more danger than he knew. If the Guardians had discovered what I was doing in that warehouse.... "All right. How deep do you think it is?"

     "I know next to nothing about this place. I can go across first, if you don't know how to swim. If it's safe, I'll go about halfway, then come back and get you across."

     "I can swim well enough. I've been on the Sea Level many times. I'm just worried about what's in that water."

     He blinked rapidly and clenched his jaw. "I'll go first."

     He waded nearly a fourth of the way across, beyond the end of the fallen tree, and the water was still below his knees. Even in water that shallow, he was leaning into the current to keep his balance. With shame, Beka realized she was being a coward, waiting safely on the bank. She wanted to get away from him, but she didn't want to see him eaten by some mutant Earth creature or swept away by the current. They should stay closer together.

     She waded toward him as quickly as she could. The water was nearly to his waist, as he neared the midpoint, and he was struggling harder to keep his balance. He tried to keep his jacket out of the water. Hopefully, his clothes are quick-drying, too.

     Suddenly, she felt the mud suck the sandal from her foot. With a small cry, she reached down, just as it floated to the surface. In a blink, the current had swallowed it. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she knew there was no way for her to retrieve it. I have to go on.

     She began to swim so she could catch up with him. By the time he reached the other bank, she was close behind him, though the current had taken her downstream of him. And the river had claimed her other shoe. Fortunately, the ground on this side of the river was smooth and had a gentle slope, and she quickly moved toward him.

     They both looked up as the patrolship screeched away at high speed, followed closely by his smaller gray airship, until the tall trees and peculiar white puffs blocked their view.

     He gripped her wrist. "We have to move quickly." He raced toward the nearest trees, pulling her behind him.