Isabella and Irving walked toward the entrance to Sanford Central, quickly, but not quickly enough that anyone would think they were hurrying. Isabella had to keep Irving from trying to run, but he caught on eventually.

The guards didn't even give them a second glance, and most of the doors outside the slave pens weren't locked with palm readers. The few they did run across opened with the faked access they'd given their temporary badges.

The front lobby area was unoccupied as they walked through. Isabella guessed that the receptionist was at lunch. She was looking forward to lunch herself, actually.

Through the front windows, she saw that there was some sort of commotion by the gate. She hoped Colin wasn't involved, but couldn't tell from this distance. They walked out the front door as a car pulled up. Two guards came around and opened the back door. One set up a walker for the person inside. Isabella kept walking, Irving two steps behind her.

Mayor Abercrombie stepped out of the car and leaned on the walker, his leg wrapped in bandages. He said something to the guard, laughing, as he took a couple hops away from the car. Her motion caught his eye, apparently, and he looked up at her. He peered at her, confused, for just a second, then recognition dawned. "You!" he shouted, pointing at her. "Guards! That's Echo Three! Take her down!"

Isabella was already bringing her implants up to speed, leaping toward them. "Irving, run!" she shouted, body-slamming one guard into the side of the car. The other was pulling out a DIMMER, but too slow; she grabbed it away from him.

Pulling the guard's DIMMER had pulled the guard himself into Mayor Abercrombie, who toppled over, screaming in agony. Isabella reversed the DIMMER and shot the guard.

The one she'd slammed into the car grabbed for her, and she elbowed him in the stomach, then yanked him away from the car, throwing him onto the pile with the mayor and the other guard. Another DIMMER shot kept him down. The mayor was still screaming at the bottom of the pile.

"Get in!" Irving shouted. He'd climbed into the driver's seat of the car, and was putting it into gear. She saw more guards coming out of Sanford Central, and slid into the back seat the mayor had just vacated, pulling the door closed just before a DIMMER shot splashed off the window.

The car took off, racing toward the gate. She could see now that Colin was stalking toward the gate, which had one MP talking into a radio. Several other MPs lay on the ground behind him, motionless. Irving crashed through the gate, stopping in front of Colin, and Isabella popped the back door open. "Get in!" she hollered, and he dove in next to her, the door closing on its own as Irving stomped on the gas.

"What happened?" Colin asked, just before she could say the same thing.

"We got the data we need, and we would have gotten away clean if we hadn't run into Abercrombie just as we were leaving. How about you?"

"They've got surveillance video of me, so my cover was blown."

Irving was racing through the base, and it was apparent that the MPs were trying to block their way. "Aim for a fence and just keep going," Isabella said.

"We should grab the truck if we can," Colin said. "They're certainly going to look for this car."

Isabella thought for a moment. "Get near the truck. You two get out and head away in it, I'll take the car and try to draw them off. I'll meet you back at the safe house."

"Why you?" Irving asked from the front seat.

"Because I've got the most experience with this sort of clusterfuck?" she said. "And it's critical that Irving get out with the keys. Keep him safe."

Colin looked like he was about to argue, but thought better of it.

"We're kind of near it, and I think we've lost the MPs for the moment," Colin said.

"Sounds good." Isabella pointed to an alley off to the left. "Go between those warehouses and stop the car."

Irving pulled the car to a stop, and they quickly reshuffled who was where. Colin and Irving vanished into the warehouse as Isabella took off like a rocket, driving through the base, trying to find a fence to the outside. As an Air Force base, this one didn't have much in the way of heavily armed vehicles, fortunately, but this car didn't handle like it had the heavy bulletproofing that would keep it safe from the machine guns on a Humvee.

Speaking of which, she thought. Two of them blocked her way toward the fence. She cranked the wheel around, running parallel to the fence. She didn't see any more of them ahead, fortunately.

Can't this damn thing go any faster? The car was designed for comfort, not speed, she could tell.

A machine gun rattled behind her. She swerved the car, trying to ruin their aim, but the car handled like a cow. A set of rapid thumps from the trunk said that she hadn't evaded their shots entirely, but they didn't seem to have hurt anything. Maybe this thing's more bulletproof than I thought?

Time to test that. She cranked the wheel to the left, toward the fence, and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. Shots slammed into the side of the car, but didn't seem to penetrate.

Grinning, she smashed through the fence.

The grin vanished as the ground pulled away from the car, which leapt into the air and then suddenly hit the ground again with a crunching sound. The crunching was followed by a tearing sound, and then a scraping sound as the car began to slow. In the mirror, she could see a tire and some of an axle sticking out of the ditch she'd just tried to leap over.

The car slid to a halt in a field just outside the base. She opened out the door and took off toward the nearest group of trees. Maybe...

The sound of approaching Humvees got louder, and she could hear a helicopter in the distance. She glanced back, and saw a Humvee approaching from each side, their machine guns manned. She looked forward, and made a quick calculation. There was no way she could reach the trees before they caught up with her. She pulled her palmtop from a pocket and activated the self-destruct, tossing it aside, then dropped back to a walk and raised her hands in the air. Behind her, she heard a *pop* as the palmtop destroyed itself.

The first Humvee stopped a good sixty yards away from her; the second curved around in front of her, and stopped between her and the trees, even further away.

A soldier in the first Humvee stood up, aiming a DIMMER rifle at her. She stared down the barrel, and saw him fire. The first shot went wide, and she fought not to laugh. Every minute they spent capturing her was one more that Colin and Irving could use to escape, hopefully.

The second shot hit her square in the chest, and her last thought before unconsciousness was that she hoped they didn't give her to Mayor Abercrombie.

Irving sat in the driver's seat of the truck, waiting in the line by the base exit gate. He had swapped into Colin's driver uniform, leaving the shirt unbuttoned so it wasn't quite as obvious how loose it was on him, while Colin was hiding underneath the truck in a T-shirt and shorts.

The truck in front of him moved, and Irving pulled forward to the inspection checkpoint. His window was already rolled down.

"Destination?" a bored MP asked. Behind him, a dozen more MPs stood ready, with rifles ready to bring up in an instant.

"Back to Chicago," Irving said. "What the hell happened?"

The MP ignored his question. "Cargo?"

"Deadheading. I was delivering two slaves."

The MP looked up at him and sneered, then showed him a tablet. Pictures of Isabella and Colin filled the screen. "Seen either of these two?"

"No, sir."

"Unlock the back of the truck."

"Yes, sir." Irving climbed out, taking the keys with him. He unlocked the tailgate and lifted it out of the way. The MP signaled two of the armed guards, who climbed in. They peeked into the two crates in the back, then came out, shaking their heads. "Empty."

"Okay," the MP said. "Move out."

"Thank you, sir," Irving said, re-locking the tailgate. He climbed back into the truck and drove off slowly, in the direction of Chicago.

He drove far enough to make sure they were well beyond the base's surveillance before stopping the truck. He climbed out, to find that Colin was already rolling out from underneath on the far side. "Let's go," Colin said as they got back into the truck.

"Back to the safe house?"

"Let's find out if Isabella got out first. If they can get the location out of her, it could be a trap."

Irving frowned. "Do you think they could?"

"Probably not, but we shouldn't risk it. If she got out, she can hide there. Do you have another safe house nearby?"

"A few."

"Let's go, then."

Irving put the truck in gear and drove off.

"How bad is it, Archer?" General Sumner asked, looking over Archer's shoulder.

"Most of the ex-Central bases are still loyal," Archer said. "Southwest is pretty much in open revolt. Some of Dixie and most of Columbia are as well."

"Christ. How?"

"Apparently Colonel Hiram Fucking Gilbert had a recorder running in his office when Major Martin went in to take him out. And with the broadcast centers on regional keys, he was able to show our plans to drop a cruise missile on Danville across all of Columbia, and some fellow travelers ran it in Dixie and Southwest. Oh, by the way, Senator Martin wants your head for her daughter's death."

"My head?"

"Yours, mine, Gilbert's, McNamara's, and anyone else who happens to be handy. She's not feeling fussy after watching her daughter get shot following your orders."

"Jesus." General Sumner sighed. "Do you have any positive news?"

"We caught Echo Three," Archer said.

"Wait, what? How? Where?"

"Trying to get out of Sanford Central."

"Was she alone?"

"No, although it's unclear exactly how many people were in her group. At least three, including the other enhanced soldier. We're still debriefing the soldiers involved."

"Please tell me you aren't giving her to Dutch again," General Sumner said.

"No, Sir, although it was Dutch that caught her."

"Huh. Really?"

"He saw her coming out of the building and screamed bloody murder. She hurt his knee some more in the process, so he's not up to doing anything to her in the first place."

"Your boy finally did something right. About fucking time. So what are they doing with her? Putting a bullet in her head, hopefully."

"She's being sent up here to Chicago."

General Sumner stopped, staring at him. "Why the fuck is she coming to Chicago?"

"President's orders, Sir."

General Sumner put his hand over his face. "Christ. He's worse than Dutch sometimes."

"It's not like that. He's got a clever plan, apparently."

"That's not an improvement, Archer."

Ferb's eyes flicked across the monitors. American bases were now marked in multiple colors - red were ones known to be loyal to Chicago, green were ones known to be rebelling, and various shades of orange and yellow indicated uncertainty.

"Charlie One from Oscar Two," Colin's voice came over the radio.

"Charlie One, over," Ferb replied.

"We have encryption keys for the data stream coming from the New White House. We're seeing how much of it we can decrypt now."

"Brilliant!" Ferb said.

"There's bad news, too, though. We believe Oscar One was captured."

"What?" Phineas said from behind Ferb. Ferb hadn't heard him enter.

"Sorry," Colin continued. "She sacrificed herself so that we could get out with the data. She thought she could get away, but it looks like it didn't happen. Stalker says he's getting some indication they're shipping her to Chicago."

"Understood," Ferb said quietly. "See what you can do with those keys, and get back to us. Maybe we can end this thing before they do anything to her."

"Yeah. Maybe."

Isabella clanked her way into the building. She wasn't quite sure where she was - the van she'd been driven in had no windows in the back, they were in an underground parking garage, and she wasn't sure how long she'd been unconscious.

It had been long enough, though. She'd been given the ubiquitous knit outfit that was common for Council slaves, although they hadn't collared her, surprisingly. Not that it mattered much. A chain wrapped around her waist, tight enough that it wouldn't go over either her hips or her breasts. Her wrists were cuffed directly to the chain with almost no play.

Another chain dangled down from the front of her waist, connecting it to the short chain between her ankle cuffs. The chains were all far, far too strong for her to break them.

A guard held onto each one of her arms, leading her to an elevator as the chain between her ankles clanked on the concrete floor of the parking garage, cold against her bare feet.

No collar, no blindfold, no gag - she wondered if they were just going to execute her this time. Her stomach growled - she hadn't had anything to eat in far too long.

"So, where are we?" she asked. Might as well try.

"Chicago," one of the guards said.

"Why?"

"Because that's where they told us to bring you. Stop asking questions."

It was more information than she'd expected, actually. Why would they bring her to Chicago? Public execution didn't seem unlikely, unfortunately. She wondered if they'd gotten the television system back under their control yet.

Other than that - she couldn't really think of any other reason they'd bring her to Chicago without a collar.

Public enslavement? Auctioning her off to Congress? A hostage to get Phineas and Ferb to return to the US?

Maybe it's just that they know a collar can't hold me?

It had, after all, only been ten days since they'd tried to use the Agonizer on her, only to find that Phineas had disabled it. Archer probably hadn't had time to figure out a new way to make the collar's pain generator work on her.

Maybe she was being sent to Archer? She was reasonably sure she wasn't going back to Mayor Abercrombie, since he had been at Sanford Central. He probably needed more surgery on his knee after she knocked him over. Part of her felt guilty about that, but most of her very much did not.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. The two guards led her in; four more followed them into the elevator. She tried to figure out if she could take them. Maybe if she could get a hand free, but chained like this, not a chance. Her ankles were chained too close together to let her kick. She could hip-check them, perhaps, but that was about it.

A guard pressed the button for the 3rd floor, and the elevator moved up smoothly. She saw that there were only 4 floors, plus 2 floors of underground parking.

Where am I?

They came out into an open area, painted white, with two corridors leading off to either side. Two more guards, Marines in dress black uniforms, waited there. They nodded at the ones who had led her here, who returned into the elevator. The formal guards gestured her toward the nearer corridor on the left. Several doors opened on both sides of the hall, all unmarked. They led her toward a door on the left, which one of them opened.

Inside was a small sitting room. A low couch sat along one wall, along with two comfortable-looking chairs. "Sit," one of the guards said, gesturing toward one of the chairs.

Isabella sat. The guards sat across from her on the couch. One was a tall man with broad shoulders, black hair, and an olive complexion; the other was a shorter woman with a wiry build, pale skin, and auburn hair.

"Some water?" the male guard asked.

"Please," Isabella said. "If there's anything around to eat, that would be really appreciated too." No harm in asking.

"I'll see what I can do," the female guard said. She pressed a finger to her earpiece, speaking softly.

A moment later, a slave in a Colonial outfit arrived. He wore blue knee breeches, a white shirt under a blue waistcoat, and a red long coat over all of it. He carried a silver salver, on which was a large bottle of water and two large sandwiches. She could smell beef and peppers all the way over here, and her stomach growled again. Holding the tray in one hand, he flipped open a stand with his other hand, then set the tray on top, right next to Isabella's chair.

"Hold a moment," the female guard said, walking to Isabella. In a moment, she had locked Isabella's ankle chain to a ring in the floor, and locked her waist chain to the back of the chair. "You understand you aren't going anywhere, yes?"

Isabella nodded.

"Good." She reached over and unlocked Isabella's wrists from the chain around her waist, then backed away. "Go ahead and eat. We're here for a couple hours."

Isabella picked up the bottle of water, opening it and taking a long drink. "Thank you."

The slave nodded, then left the room at a gesture from the male guard. Isabella picked up a sandwich and took a bite. It was a tasty Italian beef sandwich; she'd had them before on missions into Chicago. She took another bite, savoring it, and washed it down with another swallow of water. Clearing her throat, she looked across at the guards. "So, where are we?"

"The New White House," the male guard said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh," Isabella said. "Why?"

"Not our job to know," the female guard said. "We were told to keep you comfortable for a couple hours until the President is ready to see you."

"Do you know why the President wants to see me?"

"Not our job," she replied.

"Paying attention to what goes on in there is generally not a good idea," the other guard said. "We don't know who you are, particularly. The less we know, the better."

Isabella nodded, and resumed eating the sandwich. Whatever happened, she was going to need to keep her strength up.

Colonel Gilbert brought up the videoconference screen. Colonels and naval captains, majors and commanders, and even some lower ranks from across the country were banding together now, refusing to obey orders from Chicago, and they'd agreed to coordinate their efforts.

He recognized some of the colonels, men and women he'd served with on his way up the ranks. Others were unfamiliar, but all of them had been vouched for by those he did know. Several of them had survived attacks from Council-affiliated underlings; some had taken over from Council-affiliated superiors. At least a few had removed Council puppets who had killed their superior officers. None of them were generals or admirals, since you had to be part of the Council to get that promotion.

"Hiram, I don't know if we have enough to push on Chicago yet," Colonel Smathers said. Smathers was in charge of NORWESCRUCOM, the western equivalent of Gilbert's command. "Unless you want to drop cruise missiles on them, and that's probably not wise."

"No, I'd prefer that you and I stay out of this entirely. This isn't a job for cruise missiles."

"Not a lot that those of us in the Navy can do either," a captain that Gilbert didn't recognize said with a shrug. "We've got a few ships on the Great Lakes, but that won't help capture Chicago, just level it."

"I think this is a job for the Army and maybe the Marines," Gilbert said.

"I'm probably the closest friendly Army base to Chicago now," Colonel Kearns said. Gilbert had known Kearns since their time together as freshly-minted lieutenants, and knew she was rock-solid.

"Where are you?" Colonel Smathers asked.

"Camp Perry. Northern Ohio," she said.

"Still awfully far. How are we going to get troops close enough to Chicago without starting another war?" Captain Knight, who had succeeded to command of an Air Force Base in Georgia after his commanding officer and her second had killed each other, asked.

"How far from the shore are you, Colonel Kearns?" Gilbert asked, pulling up maps on his tablet as he thought.

"Just a few miles. Why?"

"Captain...I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he said to the naval officer.

"Captain Kenneth Spencer, Colonel."

"Captain Spencer, how many troops could you transport to Chicago?"

"Quite a few, if we can get them past Detroit without them being sunk. By either side - we'll be passing awfully close to the Canadian border, and they might decide to take us out."

"Get your ships to Camp Perry," Gilbert said. "I'll see what we can do with the Canadians."