THE COMMAND STATION fell silent at the image of the StarSteed™ leaping from the Bethedger Bridge to certain doom below. Not one of the officers on the floor was able to make sense of it, including Overguard Farewayth. Just as puzzling had been the virtual disappearance of the regrouped attack fighters; there wasn't a trace of them to be found, not on local, sub-orbital or satellite tracking. Transmissions had been garbled because of the freak storm occurrence and then every airship vanished. Only one attack fighter remained, and it carried their Prefect. It was not at all the ending they'd expected to this confrontation.

In the sky above the fracas, Sinclair looked on, dismayed. Then he began thinking logically. The insurgents wouldn't have pushed so relentlessly through the blockade only to sacrifice themselves this way. Humans did have an amazing capacity for self-sacrifice under the right circumstances. He'd seen this during the Second World War when a soldier needlessly took a bullet for him thinking it would save his life. The soldier died in Sinclair's arms, a satisfied look on his face and a song on his lips. The gesture meant nothing to Sinclair, and neither did the song, but all these years later he still remembered every lyric.

As scared as the humans generally were, as easily as they were frightened, self-destruction wasn't their style. Especially the Americans. Self-preservation was, and they were radical in their thinking.

He pushed forward and to the right on the flight column and rolled the ship downward in the direction of the falling Steed. He watched as it arced through the air, nose aimed perfectly at the water. There was something graceful yet unnatural about it. It fell so smoothly that as it splashed beneath the surface he knew something was amiss. As his fighter approached the rippling wake he leveled out and skimmed the surface, putting part of his navigation system on automatic so he could take readings of the activity below.

It didn't take long before he saw what he suspected: there was movement beneath the surface. They were alive.

Sinclair barked commands to the remaining guards atop the bridge. "Regroup along the East Shore. Prepare for full convergence upon first sighting."

Farewayth did not take offense at his temporary usurping of her command but now exerted her own authority. "Squadron Omega Supreme, prepare for deployment along the East Shore. Full armaments. Upon arrival, Omega Supreme commander assumes field command for all guards."

"Stay at the Battery, Farewayth," directed Sinclair. "That's totally unnecessary. I have the situation under control. When they emerge, I've got them."

"It's completely necessary," she responded. Squadron Omega was her own personal field unit, composed of the most elite guardsmen in the corp. They were unbeatable in hand-to-hand combat and with short-range artillery and were without question the most lethal force the Perdendosi could unleash. "I just watched as an independent enemy vehicle laid waste to the better part of two squadrons. I need to see who we're facing."

"You'll see who we're facing when I bring them back," pushed Sinclair.

"Need I remind the Prefect that the regional militia is still under my command? And by all accounts, your fighter should be on the grounds here at the base."

He got her point. "Understood Overguard. We'll rendezvous at the shore. Don't expect to have much to do - we should have the insurgents secured by then."

"Let's hope so; this is getting costly," said Farewayth. She turned over command of the station to her subordinates and went to suit up. She meant what she said to Sinclair about ending things quickly, yet she fully understood why he'd entered the fray. It had been a while since she too had demonstrated their race's superiority to most others.

But now there was a new player in this tournament of dominance, one hostile enough to draw out three of the highest ranking Perdendosi officials on the planet. She did not take such a threat lightly, but she was determined to bring these insurgents to their knees. They would pray for mercy before all was said and done. And they would receive nothing but the bootheel of extermination in return.

They were fine and the car had held up exactly as promised. Crazy.

fscked's titters of laughter actually helped Ven regain his composure all the more rapidily, and he took in their new surroundings. The car was just sinking toward the riverbed right now, and on the front window the depth was displayed in fathoms and feet. The water was murky and visibility was poor. fscked wasn't worried at all; she was relieved they'd made it this far.

Her fingers flew across the relays and buttons, alighting on just a few but the effect was dramatic. The wheels retracted and the car's rate of descending stopped. At the rear end of the Steed, thrusters fired up and propelled the vehicle forward. It felt like they were moving pretty fast, but there was no way to accurately gauge.

"How can you tell where we're going?" asked Ven. In response fscked silently reached over and tapped along the frame of the window in front of him. A lighted grid extended across the inside of the windshield (watershield!) from the driver's side over and mapped out everything in front of them up to the shore line.

She amped up the thrusters to full throttle and their speed increased. The plan was now to get to the city as quickly as possible. She was still concerned about the remaining Perdendosi air support returning, not to mention the assault roamers. They were fast, so she wanted to beat them inland. If she and Ven could get there in time, they'd be able to lose the guard in the city streets. They would probably have to abandon the car, which sucked. She still had several payments to make on it. She considered the Children she could call upon to help them out and maybe make modifications on her old car.

Her thoughts turned briefly to the Secondaries. Hopefully they'd made it to the Chamber Hall alright and proceeded with their instructions. There was always the possibility they were nearby, but she wasn't expecting any last-minute saves. The Lords had provided once, but she didn't expect another helping hand. That happened on television and in movies.

This was real life. And they had an alien invasion to put an end to.

"I never thought this was how I'd be living my life when I was a kid, that's for sure," said fscked.

"I know what you mean," said Ven, who constantly felt the spurs of disorientation. It was a strange world.

"They didn't have high school or college classes for outgunning alien laser tanks and stuff."

"Yeah they did. It was ROTC," said Ven, dry as the interior of the car. "You missed that in the orientation brochure."

"Oh. Thanks for telling me now," she said. "And to think I wasted all that time in Home Ec."

They were coming up on the shoreline and fscked turned the Steed to follow it, looking for a slope low enough for them to surface on. She engaged the wheels which rotated slowly in anticipation.

"You know, Speed Racer's car could drive underwater too," said Ven.

"I never watched Speed Racer," said fscked.

"I did. We probably should have checked the trunk of the car before we left for kids and monkeys."

She scrunched the bridge of her nose. She had no idea what he was talking about. He remembered how Racer X would turn up to help bail his kid brother Speed out of the most ridiculous situations which now didn't seem far-fetched at all. It became Ven's turn to laugh.

"How many more of those bombs do you have?" she asked.

"Two."

She looked ahead and braced both hands on the steering wheel. They were only a few feet from the surface and she expected the worst. They were probably going to face another line of guards and troops, so she prepared to take off immediately. "Well, get 'em both ready," she said.

The water rippled and parted as they broke the surface. The lights of Universe City twinkled with nary a Perdendosi guard in sight. fscked couldn't believe their luck, and moved slowly. She checked along the buildings and warehouses at the shore to see if the assault roamers were laying in wait. It hadn't even been five minutes since she'd ditched them at the bridge. They were fast and by all rights should have been nearby. If the situations were reversed, a counterstrike would have been her move. It was the logical thing to do.

But there was nothing. They half expected to see tumbleweeds roll past.

She picked up speed and was about to hail the Secondaries and see if they were anywhere nearby when there was the faintest of flickering lights in the sky. The two looked up and saw Sinclair's attack cruiser scouting the area. He saw them as well, and the Steed's back wheels spun and burned rubber across the road. fscked made a u-turn and once again zipped away.

These streets were more congested than the highway, and there was light traffic to consider. She maneuvered around parked cars and through red lights with relative ease. She was waiting for the fighter to spit ammo at her, but it didn't happen. She wasn't even able to guess why but was determined to lose him. She had to find somewhere where they could ditch their vehicle and continue on foot. At this point it would be easier. She brought her car up on two wheels turning the corner onto the opposite end of Perseverance Way from where they'd been a couple of hours ago. In the distance, you could see the clock, its hands drawing ever closer to midnight.

The fighter whipped past them and made a u-turn of its own. Its pitch dropped sharply and the nose dipped. They were almost close enough for fscked to make eye contact with the pilot, and all at once she understood: he had been out of ammunition. But he'd still probably transmitted their coordinates to the other guards. They would appear soon, and now - now he intended to use his ship as a weapon.

"We've got to get out of here!" screamed fscked. She popped open the locks on both doors.

"You're kidding?" retorted Ven.

"Watch where you jump, curl up fast, cover your head and roll!" she said and opened the latch on her door.

Sinclair ejected in a tuft of smoke and the ship, now on auto-pilot, banked on its side to squeeze through the row of buildings. The distance between it and the car closed rapidly. fscked and Ven jumped from their seats, rolling to a painful stop in time to scramble behind other parked automobiles for cover.

The attack fighter and the StarSteed™ then collided in a burst of radiant flame. The blast was seen, heard and felt for miles around.

Debris rained down around the two Children. They watched the fire with incandescent emerald eyes, and fscked shook her head. "How much you wanna bet my insurance doesn't cover that?"

"I don't know. Who's your provider?" asked Ven, sounding serious enough.

They stood and could see Sinclair descending via parachute to the ground. He spotted them and a grim, wordless exchange took place between he and fscked. They were going to have it out right there in the street. He wasn't waiting for back-up and she wasn't running. He disengaged the cords on the chute and dropped the remaining two-hundred feet to the ground, landing squarely in the middle of the street.

He threw off his pilot's gear and removed his helmet. fscked recognized him right away as the dignitary from the photographs. She pointed toward a nearby alleyway and said to Ven, "Take cover."

"You're not serious," he said. "C'mon, let's go!"

She was serious though. As serious as a heart attack. "I can take him. Don't make me have to kick your ass too. Go on."

He listened. Like his friend, he too knew which battles to pick. At the mouth of the alley he watched as fscked clenched her fists and prepared to make her stand on Perseverance Way.

There was also a reason why the assault roamers had never made it to the shores to intercept the Steed's arrival.

That reason was double-barreled and had a 6.0 engine and had seen the explosion.

Help was on the way.

And then she slammed him into a truck. That's when the cheering began.

Sinclair got his bearings in time to see fscked falling from the sky, landing her steel-tipped toes against the side of his head. They were both already bruised after not even a full minute of fighting. He grabbed her leg and pulled her to the ground, and they tussled even more. He punched her in the stomach and his fist connected with a rock-solid abdomen. She in turn socked him in his jaw. The half-ball bearings across her knuckles served their purpose, dizzying the Prefect long enough for her to get to her feet.

She took a couple of steps away and pried up a manhole cover. As he rose, holding his jaw, she redoubled her efforts and bashed him with the metal plug twice before it shattered against his forearm. He shot back with a glancing blow that threw her off balance. She fell over backwards and rolled to her feet. They circled for a moment, each taking the other's measure.

The people began shouting and cheering her on even further. A few brave souls even trickled down to the street to get a first-hand look. Ven stepped slightly out of the alley. He wanted this over with fast since he knew more guards had to be on the way, but he wasn't leaving her no matter what. fscked always handled the physical stuff and she had to put this tenacious guardsman down first; she'd have been furious if he'd interrupted the exchange. He pitied anyone else who might try.

Sinclair put a hand to his belt and unhitched a grip. With a flick of his wrist it extended like a snake into an eleven-foot lash. He threw it out once, cracking it in mid-air. The echo resounded loudly up and down the row, momentarily silencing the spectators. He flung out his arm again, this time cracking the coils against the ground between them, and a flare of energy sparked upon impact.

In slow measure he walked forward, whirling the lash above his head. It sliced the air and set the perimeter around him. fscked backed up in time with the occupant. Sinclair then brought it down at the ground once, then again. She could tell these initial strikes weren't meant to harm but rather to intimidate. It was a demonstration of authority, as though he were a tamer and she a lioness. She was about to wound his pride.

The lash was brought straight up and then struck at fscked's feet, to which she dodged to the right. Sinclair quickly followed up by whipping it to the other side, and she again countered similarly. They circled each other in the street, neither giving much ground for long. He cracked the lash in mid-air again, and this time she didn't move.

Sinclair circled it overhead once and let fly with a series of strikes, each one dodged with nymph-like grace. He made a dashing sweep of the ground, trying to catch her feet. She leaped up and avoided it and he lifted his hand, arcing the lash back and downward at an angle. It ripped through the air at her head, but she bobbed and rolled out of the way.

Eventually he did connect, snapping the coils on her hip in a flare of light. The pain was excruciating and she cried out involuntarily. He was ecstatic that he'd finally made contact, almost surprised. She put a hand to her hip and kept moving. The sting of the bite had released more endorphins and adrenaline. This wasn't anything to be concerned about. She could handle the pain; she'd handled worse.

There was again the hiss of air and the lash gripped fscked's right forearm. Sinclair tugged on it, trying to pull her to him, but she didn't budge. Instead she wound the coils tighter and grabbed it solidly in hand - and yanked. The Prefect was unprepared and flew off his feet directly at her, only to be stopped by an elbow to the face.

He fell at her feet, putting a hand over his wounded countenance. He only made a slight noise as he tried to regain his bearings and fscked was surprised the blow hadn't knocked him unconscious. She underestimated him though, and he spun tripping her feet out from under her. They grappled, trading kicks and punches as they rose. Neither party was close to yielding. If anything, the tension had only been ratcheted up several notches.

Sinclair's hands gripped the neck of her jacket and her belt and he positioned for leverage. Then he hoisted her and sent her sailing through the air across the street. She landed on the hood of a car and skidded off into a nearby lamppost. The impact was jarring and knocked loose the lash. It took her a moment to get to her feet. She rose shakily, disoriented.

Sinclair didn't give any pause and charged quickly; she recovered just enough to move out of the way in time, leaving him to barrel into the lamppost. It doubled-up under the impact and creaked. Its light sputtered and then went out and the other street lights flickered in sympathy but remained on.

The combatants made their way back to the center of the street and then just stood there, breathing heavily and seething with white-hot anger. It was apparent to all that nothing but full and total rancor passed between them. Sinclair spit gelled blood at her feet. fscked took off her jacket, looked around and tossed it to Ven. Then she sneered at Sinclair. He was going down.

At their feet was wreckage from the explosion and their fight so far. fscked picked up a shaft from a car's axel-rod and lunged at Sinclair. He too found a rod from the debris and used it to defend himself. They swung and connected. Then again. With equal force, the two pressed their attacks, the only damage now being done to the metal in their hands. They struck again and held fast, trying to force each other down. They shook, and sweat trickled down their foreheads. It had been centuries since Sinclair had last broken a sweat.

Without warning, fscked then abruptly turned loose her bar, ducked and gut-punched the Prefect. She now took the offensive and unleashed a volley of punches at Sinclair's upper body, pressing forward as she did. He dodged and deflected most of them, then managed to get hold of her wrist. He snapped her around and nearly dislocated her shoulder, causing her to wince. The pain was excruciating.

He had her in a headlock, his left arm anchored around her throat, her right arm pinned behind her. He would cut off her air and then snap her neck. He tired of this game.

Suddenly she leaned forward, supporting his weight and bringing him off his feet, then she dipped and jumped straight up. Her strength carried them both a good fifteen feet into the air. She let the momentum twist them backwards, butting her head into his nose and the rim of his mouth while they fell. She pulled her right arm free just before they landed on his back, leaving a small crater in the street. Her weight crushed the air from Sinclair's lungs.

She flipped over and began punching before he could recover. Thick blood came from his mouth and nose. She then started pummeling his chest with a barrage of blows that increased in fury and pace. She had never thrown punches this hard at any living being, and the effect was evident. There was armor plating beneath his chestplate and it now cracked and shattered beneath her assault. Sinclair stiffened and convulsed as he went into cardiac arrest, then was still.

She grabbed his face in her hand and lifted it a few inches off the ground. After studying him she angrily, defiantly slammed his head down into the ditch, dislodging chunks of pavement with the impact. Dead or dying, he was defeated; that's all that mattered.

The onlookers that lined Perseverance Way had witnessed the impossible: an unarmed human single-handedly defeating a Perdendosi guard. There was silence...and then a celebratory eruption.

fscked pushed herself up and again got to her feet. She rubbed her shoulder and swung her arm, trying to work off the pain quickly. She took a deep breath and for the first time heard the cheers of the throng. She didn't smile - she was too tired to do so - but nodded once to acknowledge the accolades. Ven was still at the mouth of the alleyway and she turned to him. They had to get moving.

"You know, I could have done that too," said Ven, holding her jacket carefully while she slid her arms into the sleeves. "Showoff."

"I'll bet you could," said fscked, nursing her shoulder. "Thanks for holding back."

"No problem. Maybe next time."

The two stepped into the alleyway and hustled into the darkness. The noise from the street died off as the two turned down one back passage, then another. fscked checked her watch and saw that it was one minute 'til midnight. She wasn't ready to panic just yet, but she was nervous; they had to find haven somewhere, fast. Most importantly, she had to help Ven contact the Children. The network would support them, but they needed a place to jack in.

"Who are the closest members you can think of," asked Ven's bodyguard.

He stopped for a second to connect the green dots in his mind. "None on this end of town," he answered.

She didn't want to use the phone lines and didn't want to knock on any doors. She finally decided to try contacting her Secondaries again (hopefully they'd had a chance to drop off the notecomm first and could get to them quickly) and had just put a hand to her communicator ring when she heard a noise behind them.

Walking toward them down the darkened alley, bloodied and battered, muddied and tattered was Sinclair. He resembled a zombie that had clawed its way out of its grave, solely to confront fscked again. His eyes were sunken in their sockets and seared with rage. Never had he been handed a defeat so thoroughly, and if it was the last thing he did he would rend her asunder.

She reached down into both of her boots and produced a butterfly knife in each hand. She brandished them and took a step in front of Ven. Their eyes glowed, casting a green light across the alley.

Sinclair halted. The color of the glow brought something to mind. Their auras were peculiar, something like he'd never encountered before. But there was something familiar about them too. He thought and remembered the display he'd been shown days before, following the Battery test. The green dots that couldn't be explained because they weren't matter or energy. The anomaly that had resemblances to the local readings from the first night of the invasion.

Whatever these creatures represented, they were part of the reason his people were still on this disgustingly base, loud planet. His rage quadrupled. He prepared to step forward when there was commotion from another corridor.

The clatter of dozens of boots against wet cobblestone rattled against the bricks, broken glass and boarded up windows. From a smaller side opening, the first of the Omega Supreme guards arrived, each bearing particle-fission rifles. They leveled their weapons at the Children, and fscked broadened her stance, ready for a fight no matter what the odds.

"Hold your fire!" yelled Sinclair and the guards repeated the order and obeyed. "I want them taken alive," he said. "For the most part."

The guards formed a semi-circle around the insurgents, who stood backed against a dumpster. fscked was so protective of Ven that the Prefect could sense the intermediary's importance. He was now even more satisfied with this turn of fortune.

There were fifteen high guards surrounding them, armed and ready to kill on command. Sinclair stood directly at the center, just a few feet in front of the Children. Every way out of the alley was blocked. More guards, including Overguard Farewayth, would be present within two minutes. The situation for them was hopeless.

The clock along Perseverance Way struck the first bell of midnight. Sixty seconds later at 12:01am, the altercation would be finished by the peal of the final bell.

Help was on the way...