Isabella came up out of the hidden compartment and stretched. She'd been concealed down there for several hours, and had heard the military investigating inside the truck at least twice. Fortunately, they'd never found the hidden latch that opened the compartments.

"Sorry that took so long," Juliet said. "We had to get you well past where they were looking."

"Beats the hell out of getting caught, eh?" Colin said, coming out of his own compartment and chewing on a protein bar.

"Where are we?" Isabella asked.

"Southern Minnesota," Juliet answered. "I leave you here, taking the motorcycles, and Stalker will get in contact with you for your next step. I don't know, I don't want to know."

"Understood," Colin said.

They came out into a small warehouse, boxes and crates piled high around them. An office sat to one side, unoccupied. "Go wait in there," Juliet said, closing the back of the truck and sliding the ramp back inside.

She gave them a thumbs-up as she climbed back into the truck. It started with a cough and drove out of the warehouse; the door closed behind it immediately afterwards.

The office was small and cluttered, with papers and folders lying around haphazardly. A row of three filing cabinets filled the far wall. Two chairs sat at a desk with three computers sitting on top.

Isabella took one chair, kicking up her feet on the desk next to where she set her helmet. Colin shook his head as he sat in the other chair, leaning forward.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. I've just..." He looked up at her, and she saw that his expression was shadowed. "I'd never killed anyone before tonight. I could hand-wave away the train derailment, but the soldiers at the air base..."

She sat up, taking her feet off the desk, and reached forward to take his hand. "I get it. I remember my first..." She paused as the memory washed over her again.

"What happened?" he asked, as if trying to distract himself from his own thoughts.

"I was targeting a Dixie researcher," she said. "He was working on a poison gas of some sort." She smiled thinly. "I got into the computers, sealed his lab, and he died from it. It looked like an accident, and I'm not sure they ever realized I'd been there. But I had to watch him through the security cameras to make sure he was dead. His eyes, at the end...he looked sad. I always wondered if he regretted what he was working on as he died."

"I heard the screams," Colin said quietly. "People getting burned alive. I'm not sure that will ever go away."

"Ever's a long time."

"Does it get easier?"

"They blur. Not sure if that's easier or not."

"Oscars One and Two, this is Stalker," a voice said from their helmets.

Isabella picked hers up and put it on. "Oscar One. What's next?"

"Another truck will be along in four minutes. It'll take you to your next stop."

"Thank you," she said.

Irving sat back and watched the trucks move. He did a lot of work keeping the Underground Railroad running, and some of the trucks that had smuggled slaves up to Canada could now smuggle Canadian soldiers into the heartland.

He pulled up another connection, and said, "Charlie One from Stalker."

"Charlie One. Give me good news," the voice from the other end said in its British accent. Charlie One was the contact in Canada who was watching Oscars One and Two. He wasn't sure if they knew at the far end, but Irving recognized the voice of Ferb from growing up in Danville.

"They made it to the first drop-off, and should be here in another couple hours."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem. Charlie One out."

Colin climbed out of the sleeper area of the cab, nodding to the driver, who'd called himself Elvis. They'd ridden along in his truck for several hours, getting a bit of sleep in the process, and eating some snack food he'd provided.

Isabella followed him, and they found themselves in another warehouse. This one was larger, and the morning sun shone in through the windows at the top of the building. "This way," a tall Hispanic man said, gesturing them into a stairwell.

They climbed down into a tunnel that led, as far as Colin could tell, away from the warehouse. The tunnel was grey and sparsely lit, but clean.

The Hispanic man knocked on a door at the far end. A voice on the far side said something Colin didn't quite hear, and the Hispanic man muttered a response. The door unlocked with a *click*, and the man gestured them in.

Inside was a small computer center - several racks of servers, and a few desks with monitors and keyboards. It was chilly inside, and he could hear the fans of a cooling system running. A short man with closely-cropped red-orange hair stood by the door, smiling. "Come on in!" he said enthusiastically. Colin recognized his voice as that of Stalker.

"You must be Oscar Two," he said, shaking Colin's hand. His grip was a bit clammy but firm. "And you must be Oscar One," he said to Isabella, grasping her hand next. "I'm Stalker, and I do logistics and tech support and...well, a bunch of other stuff for the Anti-Slavery Front."

"Where are we?" Isabella asked. "Or don't I want to know?"

"It's probably better off if you don't," Stalker said. "But I'll tell you anyway. We're in Minnesota. Minneapolis, actually."

Colin sighed.

"It's okay," Stalker continued. "If they catch you two, I'm already doomed, so it doesn't really matter if I tell you."

"So what do we do now?" Isabella asked.

"Right now, you should probably get some rest. You guys have had a long night, I bet. There's cots in there," Stalker said, pointing at a door to one side.

Isabella yawned. "Sounds good." Colin followed her to the door. Inside was a small room with four cots laid out, with pillows and blankets. A small door at one end was labelled, "Bathroom".

"I need that," Colin said, heading toward the door.

"Damn. Fine. Hurry up, then," Isabella said. "I need it too."

"So, what do you think, Archer?" General Sumner asked.

Archer pulled out a map with markings on it. "My guess is Minneapolis, since that seems to be a center of ASF activity. Could be Sioux Falls, though, or any of the little ASF safe houses scattered through the countryside. No real way to bring her to ground."

"Hm. Guesses on what she does next?"

"I'm actually not sure, General. If she has a way to get in contact with Canada, they may bring her back, or they could send her...anywhere, really. They could send her to Chicago, for all I know."

"That possibility has crossed our minds, yes. We're increasing security here and have put out a Be On The Lookout alert with her picture."

"Do we still have any informers inside the ASF?"

"Not at a high level. We're pretty sure they found the person who told us about the recording of you. We haven't heard from them since, at least."

"Have the Canadians done anything else?"

"Somehow - we're not sure how - the New York staging area blew up, taking out the supplies intended for the attack on Montreal." General Sumner shook his head, annoyed.

"Huh. Have we sent anyone into Canadian territory yet?"

"We tried sneaking some stealth bombers in, but air defense caught them. We were lucky to get half of them back across the border."

"What's the internal situation for us?"

"Protests are getting worse. Bailey's video is viral in Southwest, and becoming more known nationwide. He just sent out a second video, and it's catching on even faster. There's calls for the President to resign."

"Phil would die first."

"I know, Archer." General Sumner sat back, thinking. "Actually, do you think he's her target? I mean, she is an expert assassin."

"Unlikely. Phil's too hard to get to, and he's really just a figurehead."

"Granted, but taking him out would be a huge hit to our morale, and a big boost to theirs. Go take a look for weaknesses there."

"Will do, Sir."

It was early evening when Isabella woke up. Colin was still sleeping in the cot across from her, and Stalker had crashed in one of the other cots.

She used the bathroom, taking a moment to brush out her hair. I really should cut it, she thought. She'd let it grow out a bit after Phineas had bought her. He liked it longer, but right now, it was a liability. Bleaching it might not be a bad idea either, actually.

It was likely the ASF had things lying around she could use for disguises. The soldiers had recognized her in Grand Forks, so she needed something to make it harder for them to do it again.

She quietly slipped out of the bathroom. Colin and Stalker were still sleeping, so she went out into the computer room.

The computers were busily running something, but she couldn't tell quite what, and didn't want to risk disturbing them. Instead, she pulled her earpiece from her pocket and put it in, turning it on.

"Oscar One, anyone there?" she said. There was a moment with no response. "Anyone from Oscar One, is there anyone out there?"

"Oscar One from Charlie One," Ferb's voice said. "Good to hear your voice."

"Likewise, Charlie One. How's Charlie Two doing?" She knew Phineas would be worried about her.

"Better, knowing you're okay."

"Likewise. What are our next orders?"

"Is Stalker there? He's supposed to brief you when you're ready."

"He's asleep. I'll wait for him, then."

"That would be best, yes."

"Signing off, then. Take care."

"You too."

She pulled the earpiece back out and put it back in her pocket. She pulled a small pad of paper from her pocket and added to her list of desired additions to her implants: Communicator.

The door from the sleeping room swung open, and Stalker came in, yawning. "Sleep okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. You?"

"A bit. Long night last night, getting you here safely."

"Thanks for everything. Charlie One said you've got our next mission?"

"Yeah, let's wait for Oscar Two to wake up first, though."

She chatted a bit with Stalker while they waited. It turned out his name was Irving, he'd known Phineas and Ferb from when they were kids, and he had picked the codename because of how he'd been a bit of a stalker toward them before they'd gone off into their work for the military. Now he put that ability in controlling computers and video feeds to fight against slavery, and against the American government that had reinstated it. He'd been working on tracking down proof of the Council of Sanford when Holly had sent them her audio. Somebody within the ASF had leaked info about it to the Council, and after Holly had been arrested, Irving had tracked down the leaker. ASF Security had dealt with them in some way that he hadn't asked for details about.

"You two are chatty," Colin said, coming through the door.

"Excellent, you're awake," Stalker said. "You ready to talk about the next mission?"

"Sure," Colin said, pulling up a chair. "What's the plan?"

"Each of you has a different job this time," Stalker said. "Oscar One is working on getting us into Chicago's systems. There's a constant data feed out of the New White House that we've been trying to track down."

Isabella nodded. "Sounds good. Think it's their tactical plan?"

"We're really not sure, but it's a big enough transfer, running constantly, that it's got to be really important."

"Okay. Any idea where it's going?"

"We've traced it going south out of Chicago, but that's all we've been able to do. More than that will need on-site access from a government computer with the appropriate access certificates." Stalker shrugged. "As for you, Oscar Two, we need you to take out the primary transmission center for the government video feeds. We have control of the computers in the secondary center, but haven't been able to get into the primary. If you can take out the primary center in Batavia, we can drop in our own video at a critical moment."

Colin leaned forward. "Makes sense. Do you have a plan for this?"

"Nope. But I've got a map of the building for you to make your own plan."

"That'll do," Colin said.

"Do you have any hair bleach?" Isabella asked. "I think I need a bit of a disguise."

Since they were going in more or less the same direction, Colin and Isabella were traveling together. He was letting her drive while he kept in contact with Stalker. They'd had to wait until morning, as the highways were under curfew except for cargo traffic due to the war footing.

Stalker had given them false identification as a married couple from St. Paul, driving to Chicago to attend a friend's birthday party. The Monday morning traffic through the Twin Cities had been rough, but once they'd gotten away on the interstate highway, traffic had flowed more smoothly.

Colin had watched Isabella smoothly lie her way through the checkpoints. That was the other reason she was driving. She didn't look much like the pictures he saw posted at the first checkpoint - they'd bleached her much-shorter hair and dyed it a honey-blonde. A pair of fake glasses and makeup to lighten her skin, and she looked much more Irish than Mexican-Jewish. Stalker had even helped add some fake freckles to improve the effect.

Colin wasn't sure what he thought of Stalker. He wasn't really Colin's type, but...he'd been very helpful, and Colin felt an odd fondness for him. He kind of reminded Colin of Phineas, in a way, but with a bit more edge to him. Phineas was, ultimately, a very nice guy. Stalker could be vicious when needed.

The car radio played some sort of news station that they'd tuned to while trying to get through traffic. An idiotic talk show was on, with people arguing about whether the Canadians should be shot or enslaved. He flipped to another channel, which was playing gospel music. The next had bubblegum pop. He was about to change it again when the song ended, and the DJ said, "Big news, folks. The Supreme Court ruling in P&S Productions vs. United States has come in, and it's a doozy. 7 to 2 ruling that Central soldiers convicted of treason and sentenced to slavery by Dixie and Columbia courts were not automatically pardoned. All former POWs who weren't released by their owners are to be collared again. The President has said he will not be issuing blanket pardons today, but is willing to consider individual cases."

"Holy shit," Isabella whispered. "I'm glad Ginger got clear."

"Hm?" Colin asked.

"Ginger, a friend of mine from Danville. She was a Central soldier who got captured by Dixie and used for slave gang-bang porn. She got out of the country a few weeks ago, going to Uruguay. Holly told me."

"Wait, what? Slave gang-bang porn? That isn't really a thing, is it?"

Isabella smiled thinly. "It's horrifying, but it's a thing. They cast her as a Central secret agent trying to sneak into Dixie bases. The soldiers would catch her, and..."

"You don't need to elaborate. So they're willingly sending some of their soldiers back to shit like that?

"Apparently."

"This is going to trash Central morale, isn't it?"

"Oh, hell yeah. The timing's really bad on their part."

"Tragic."

Ferb sat at the console. A few minor skirmishes had happened on the border, but neither side seemed to want to escalate yet. Air defense systems were keeping bombers - and everything else in the air - well away from the borders. The American Air Force had attempted to end-run the Canadian defenses by sending long-range bombers well out over the Atlantic and back, but they'd been met by Canadian interceptors and forced back at ruinous losses. They didn't have a lot of long-range bombers to use anyway, as they hadn't been useful during the Civil War.

They'd launched another round of cruise missiles, with conventional warheads, and some of them had gotten through. Similarly, special forces on both sides had sabotaged key locations. Isabella and Colin had ruined Grand Forks for weeks, and CSOR had taken out the upstate New York staging area for the attack on Montreal. The staging area near Buffalo for the attack on Toronto was proving harder to crack, but Phineas had given more-advanced stealth tech onto a few cruise missiles, along with tumbler warheads. It was hoped that the psychological effect would be enough to convince the Americans to back down, although Ferb wasn't optimistic.

Unfortunately, they didn't have time to set up a full tumbler warhead assembly line, so they only had the few warheads Phineas was able to build on his own. To an extent, it didn't matter, because Canada's production of cruise missiles was just starting to ramp up.

Politically, the situation was a mess. The word "sitzkrieg" kept coming to mind. The American Congress was waffling on a declaration of war, as was the Canadian Parliament. Both of them were trying to convince the European Union that the other had started it, and it was felt that whoever declared war first would lose that argument. Mexico, on the other hand, was fully mobilizing, and it was clear that an American declaration of war would be followed by a second front opening immediately. Most of the American forces that were free to deploy were in the Southwest now, and the Mexican movements were making it difficult for the Americans to pull them away for use against Canada.

The Prime Minister, as far as Ferb could tell from what Vanessa told him, was hoping he could still convince everyone to back down. Ferb couldn't really blame him, to be honest. Protests were getting worse in America, and there were reports that troops were refusing to stop it. They were claiming it was because there was no declaration of war, but there were rumors that it was because of how many of their number had just been re-collared by the Supreme Court's ruling.

Phineas came in, his eyes hollow. He looked like he hadn't slept for two days - which he probably hadn't. "How we doin'?" he asked.

Ferb smiled at him. "No change. Go get some sleep."

"Can't. Too much to do."

"You'll do better if you sleep."

"Bed's too lonely," he said quietly.

Ferb nodded. "Talk to the base infirmary. They can give you something to help you sleep."

Vanessa walked in, talking on her phone. "Preston, I'm fine. Get those implants shipped here, we've got more soldiers waiting..." She paused, and smiled. "Excellent." She covered the phone and looked at Phineas. "The next round of implants is on its way, should arrive tomorrow. They'll cover the rest of the platoon." She frowned, looking into his face. "I'm not letting you have them until you get some sleep, though."

Phineas sighed deeply and nodded, conceding defeat. "Fine." He stumbled out the door.

Vanessa put the phone back to her ear. "Seriously, Preston, you're in more danger there than I am." She rolled her eyes at whatever he was saying. "I'm staying here. I swear, you're worse than my mother." Another pause, and her eyes hardened. "Oh. Is that it? Fine. Tell my mother to get off my fucking back, then. You can quote me. I'm serious, Preston...what was that? Preston? Preston?" She looked at the phone. "The line just went dead."

Ferb turned back to his console, where red lights were flashing. "Cruise missile strikes in Quebec, Winnipeg, Vancouver, and...Toronto." He brought up more detail on the Toronto strike. "Direct hit on the Doofenshmirtz Biosciences building," he said quietly.

"Mon dieu," she whispered. "I...my people..."

"Do what you need to do," Ferb said. "I'll talk to Colonel Scott about where we can evacuate them to."

"Thanks, Ferb," she said, picking up her phone to start managing recovery efforts.

Adyson walked along with the protesters, her prosthetic leg hardly slowing her down. They'd gathered in Memorial Park, where the Shatter Day bombing had been, to protest the Supreme Court's ruling. Adyson had been half expecting the ruling, ever since Ginger had left.

She was glad Ginger had left. The porn producer that had owned her had been the lead plaintiff for the case, and the people they had previously owned would be the first affected. Indeed, just minutes after the ruling came down, Adyson had gotten a phone call from somebody in Atlanta trying to find Ginger. Adyson had claimed ignorance, hoping to make them waste time. The more time they wasted trying to find Ginger before they learned she'd escaped to Uruguay, the more time any other victims would have to escape.

"Freedom for Americans! Freedom for all!" the crowd chanted. "No more collars!"

Off to one side of the park, a troop of soldiers started marching toward them. They blocked off that side of the park, and started moving around it, trying to surround the protesters.

Adyson nodded. Catalina had said that was the expected response, and had given suggestions on how to deal with them.

Adyson stepped out in front of the soldiers, along with several dozen other people around her. They hadn't needed to discuss it - they all saw the problem together. If they let the soldiers surround the park, they might all get arrested.

"Step aside, citizen," a rough-looking man with sergeant's stripes said. He stepped forward so he was practically toe to toe with Adyson, looking down at her. He was at least six inches taller than her.

"Right to peaceably assemble," one of the other protesters said from behind Adyson.

"There's a war on. Rights are suspended," the sergeant rumbled. "Step aside. This is not a request."

"Congress hasn't declared war," Adyson said, staring up at him.

"Step. Aside. Last warning." He reached out, as if to push her out of the way.

"How many soldiers in your platoon got collared again, Sergeant?" Adyson asked.

His hand froze in midair.

She continued, "How many good American soldiers are getting raped and beaten tonight because the generals don't give a shit about you? Because the President can't bear the thought of pardoning them? Because they committed the horrible crime of fighting by your side and getting captured by the enemy?"

The sergeant's mouth opened, and closed, as his hand dropped back to his side. The soldiers behind him didn't quite take a step back, but they looked at each other warily.

"How many, sergeant? Are you next?" she asked quietly.

He swallowed, looking down at her. "Step aside," he whispered.

"Join us. Fight for your country," she said. "Freedom for Americans. Freedom for all. How many, sergeant?"

"None in my platoon," he whispered. "None in this platoon. They're all too new."

"How many in your old platoon?" she asked.

His eyes were filled with pain. "Too many."

Behind him, the soldiers who had been following him were shifting back. Adyson saw that the soldiers were retreating all around the crowd as it was pointed out that their own comrades were now being returned to slavery.

"I get it," Adyson said. "The only reason one of my best friends isn't getting collared today is because she got out of the country. Join us."

"I can't. Yet," the sergeant said. "Be careful. Next time they'll probably shoot first."

"We know. Thank you for listening first."