FIFTY-FOUR

Nellis Air Force Base, solar panel array

July 15th

21:01

"Your interior lining needs a sweat absorber, Stel."

"I AM A STEALTH SUIT, NOT A STILLSUIT."

"True that." Despite the rapidly dropping temperature, the exertion of burying Raquel's body had made the sweat trickle from En's brow and down her back, making the suit's lining feel uncomfortably soggy. But a soggy suit was better than two holes in the chest.

She'd killed someone this time. Not in self defence, not someone who had to, or deserved to die. Someone decent.

"I'm sorry Raquel," En said with a sigh. "I really am."

Raquel wouldn't patrol the perimeter anymore. Wouldn't bitch to Pearl about letting strangers inside. Wouldn't drop down on the bed in her barracks and think about guys (or a guy), or sing off-key in the bath. Raquel was dead. And it was her fault.

"HEATING ELEMENTS ACTIVATED."

Stel's digital voice pulled her from her thoughts. It was getting pretty cold, and now that the exertion of digging was over, the sweat on her forehead felt ice cold as the wind cooled her down. A pleasant warmth began to spread from her lower back, upwards and then around her torso, enveloping her entirely as Stel's heating elements warmed up. The suit was a god damn miracle. "Thanks, Stel."

"NO PROBLEM." For being an artificial intelligence, the suit knew eerily well when to give its wearer some quiet.

"I guess we should head on back."

"YES. THE HEATING ELEMENTS ONLY FUNCTION FOR JUST OVER TWO HOURS UNTIL THE BATTERIES ARE DRAINED."

Whatever these people said, she was going to see her friends now. To see if they're alright and to let them know she was alright too. They were probably worried.

She began the hike back to the Nellis AFB hangars to inform Loyal of the news, dreading the moment when he'd ask what had happened to Raquel. She had no idea how she was going to say it, without getting blamed or punished for it.

The AFB hangars came closer as she walked, her only company the artificial intelligence programmed into the suit she was wearing, and it was quiet save for a few words ("BATTERIES AT THREE FOURTHS CAPACITY") during the entire walk, leaving her alone with her thoughts. A feeling of immense guilt had settled in the pit of her stomach. Raquel had hated her guts and the feeling had been kinda mutual, but still. She hadn't been a bad person, just someone doing what she thought was right.

She reached for the door to Loyal's hangar. Time to pay the piper.

"Well hello there, kiddo," Loyal exclaimed from between the boxes of tools he was organizing when he saw her come in. "Success?"

"Uh... yeah," En said, trying to appear as cheerful as possible. "Solar panels repaired and ants brain-cooked." She put the empty sports bag and the M4 on his workbench.

He sighed in relief. "That's good news, missy. I figured you'd be alright though. Jack saw you wanderin' off with Raquel, so I knew you were in good hands."

"... Yeah..."

Loyal cocked his head at her. "Somethin' wrong, missy?"

Come on, you have to do this.

"Raquel, she..."

His face told her he already knew what she was going to say.

"She died. I'm... sorry."

Loyal looked bereft, even though he seemed to have already expected it, and he sat down sullenly. "What... what happened?"

A feeling of dread grew in her stomach, an oily, aching ball of fear and guilt and shame. She had to tell him the truth, it was the only right thing to do. She had to tell him she'd accidentally shot their security chief. She had to be honest and brave and take responsibility for what she'd done, no matter how much it terrified her.

"The... the ants got her. I'm sorry."

"Oh sweet Lord, Raquel. Did she... did she suffer?"

"I... No, not really, I guess."

His face hardened, becoming determined. "I'm goin' out there tomorrow. To give her a good burial."

Oh shit no, if he found her he'd see the bullet holes. He'd know she lied. God dammit En, confess what you've done, don't try to get out of it. Be strong and say it. Tell him what happened. Choose honesty now instead of damning yourself to living the lie.

"WE SHOULD – " Stel began, but En pulled the earwig out of her ear, effectively quieting the suit. "You can't, the ants, they... they dragged her underground. It was like... she was there one moment, and gone the next. It went too fast, there was... nothing I could do."

She was a despicable coward. She'd killed someone and now she was lying to cover it up. She was disgusted with herself.

"I see." Loyal's face became defeated again. "She was a brave woman. I... guess I'll have to tell Pearl the news now."

"I'm sorry." Sorry I killed her and sorry I'm a pathetic liar. She felt tears burning in her eyes and a comforting hand was put on her shoulder.

"I believe you kid. Don't blame yourself, there's nothin' you could have done."

She didn't deserve his trust, or his sympathy. And still she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth. She let out a short, loud sob and then said, "Thanks. I do blame myself though."

"Don't. Raquel was a proud and strong woman. She knew the risks of her job. She wouldn't want people to feel guilty."

She had to shift the conversation away from this because his kind words made her loathe herself even more. "Raquel, she... she said I had to ask you about the Lady. About making her fly."

He let out a sad chuckle. "She did, did she."

A silence fell, and at length he said hoarsely, "If Raquel trusted you, then I trust her judgment. I'll tell you what there is to know about the Lady, and about what you can do. But first I need to go see Pearl. Tell her her niece is dead."

Raquel had been Pearl's niece. This just kept getting more and more awful.

"I'm going to go see my friends. I'll be back tomorrow." She made sure it sounded like a fact rather than a question. She didn't just want to tell them she was alright. She wanted to put this place and her horrible lies behind her, at least tonight.

"Sure. I don't think that'll be a problem. I'll tell Lucas to let you through."

"Thanks."

The artillery guy had made a bit of a fuss, but Loyal had made it clear that En was to be let through and let back in without being blown to bits. So she was allowed to leave, and even though Loyal didn't ask her to, she promised she'd be back the next day. She told him she just needed to see her friends for a bit, to be with people she knew. At least she didn't have to lie about that.

Before she walked through the chain link gate, Loyal put his hands on her shoulders and said, "Don't feel bad over this, okay? You've done us a great service, both you and Raquel. You have nothing to blame yourself for. If there's anything you need, you go on and ask, alright?"

More kindness she didn't deserve. This man was offering her friendship and hospitality, absolving her of what she'd done, and all she could do was keep up the lie. "Thanks, but I do feel guilty." She wiped a single tear from each eye (tears of guilt, but he didn't know), and said, "I'll be back tomorrow. To hear about that Lady, and to tell Pearl I'm sorry."

Loyal shook his head. "Don't tell her you're sorry. Tell her Raquel fought bravely and that her death was for a good cause. For our continued existence."

She turned her face away. "I have to go."

She crossed the ruins of the village again, blasted to rubble and craters, the people who'd tried to cross it dead, dead, dead.

When she was halfway, she again noticed the power armoured boot, and she walked toward the young Brotherhood woman's body. She was still lying there, her eyes closed, her face at peace except for the terrible tear through her cheek and forehead. She'd been pretty. It was strange how you cared so much more for a dead person when you could still recognize them. She'd seen tons of skeletons in her travels and they never evoked any more emotion than a faint regret for all the people who'd died when the bombs had fallen. But seeing a dead person's face always made it more real. This woman, like Raquel, would never smile again.

The Boomers had to see her. See that with their mortars, they weren't just blasting far-away silhouettes without a face, but real people. It was probably very easy to lob a mortar at a person if you only considered that person a faceless intruder instead of a young black woman who just wanted to investigate, return to her base and stick a feather up her hat for a job well done. Instead of a hungry and poor man whose despair made him stupid enough to try and run through the artillery barrage in search of something he knew wouldn't be there.

Yeah, so now she'd taken to presuming she was the ones to give those people lessons. A pathetic coward who couldn't even take responsibility for what she'd done. That was rich.

But she'd teach them this lesson regardless. They'd see this young woman's face. See what it was they did, up close.

"I'll be back," she said, her voice a mere peep.

She walked on, back to her friends.

The flickering of a campfire told her where they were, and true enough, they were all there, sitting around the fire. Meyers was going through his stack of books, explaining several of them to Sunny, looking like he was trying to find the book she'd like most. Ringo and Melissa were playing a hand of caravan, and Leza lay on her back, napping in her sleeping bag. Hm, it was nice to see Ringo and Melissa socializing. If only Sunny could get over her Melissa hang-ups, things would really work out.

The Sunny in question noticed her first, pointing her out to Meyers and getting up to walk towards her. The others remained where they were, probably because they didn't begrudge Sunny the feeling of being the first to speak to her.

"Hey sweetie. Good to see you're alright." Sunny briefly hugged her. "How was it?'

"Oh, good, good," she lied. "I managed to gain their trust a little."

"Oh so, like, can we go and meet them too?" Leza asked, holding up her sunglasses, one eyes screwed shut. She'd apparently been just dozing.

"No, better not. They already have enough trouble getting to grips with one outsider traipsing around."

"Did you get their cooperation?" Ringo asked, playing a card without looking like he knew what he was doing.

"Workin' on it, yeah. They've got something they really need done, they'll tell me tomorrow what exactly."

"Nothing dangerous, right?" Sunny asked, concerned.

En shrugged. "I'unno. We'll see."

"Stayin' with us tonight?" Melissa asked.

"Yerp." It'd be good to stay with her friends again. The visit to the Boomers had made her a bit too intimately acquainted with a part of her she didn't much care for.

"Think the stew's about ready," Meyers said, rising from the crate he was sitting on and bending over the tin pot suspended over the fireplace. "Was a real cooperative effort," he explained to En. "Sunny shot a few rabbits and Melissa went to forage barrel cactus fruits and a jalapeño pepper or two. I threw 'em all together to make for a fine dish. Hopefully."

"What's Ringo and Leza do?" En asked, though it didn't really matter.

"Ringo made the fire and Leza... well, just sat there lookin' pretty."

"Which, might I add," Watkins chimed in, "I'm very good at."

"I uh... really look forward to staying with you guys tonight," En confessed. "I'll go see what needs to be done for those Boomers tomorrow, and come right back. And then we'll go see House."

"Sounds good," Meyers said, focused on his stew. "Mm, needs some more seasoning. Ringo?"

Ringo wordlessly dug in his backpack and tossed him a plastic bag of herbs. The guy really came equipped. But when he was satisfied Meyers had caught the bag without dropping it, disappointment was his when Melissa played her last card, making his strategy fall apart like, well, a house of cards. "Stuffy-man, that was predictable. You're really crap at this."

"Someday I'll win the money of each and every one of you," Ringo merely said, collecting the cards and sliding his ten caps over to Melissa.

"Stew's ready. Dig in!" Meyers announced, dipping a ladle into the pot and offering it first to – of course – Leza, who scooched closer, holding her tin out.

Everyone was served, with En being last because she still had to dig her tin out of her backpack, and they sat around the campfire, having their meal together. It was good to be with her friends, as bickering a bunch as they were.

She told them about the Boomers, about Pearl and Loyal and Jack, and about the solar array and the ants. She didn't mention Raquel, because what was the point? Leza asked her about the stealth suit and she explained it as best as she could, everyone listening intently. She'd made an impression by vanishing from sight that morning. Nice. When Leza mentioned in feigned off-handedness that the Brotherhood would love to take a look at it, she shifted the topic of discussion away though. Because if she let her go down that road, she'd soon be asking if she could have it.

But yeah. She'd forgotten it wasn't even hers to give. If Leza wanted it, she'd have to get permission from Garland, not her. She was only borrowing it.

The night slowly rolled on, and as it did, conversation began to flag. Leza had already nodded off, her legs in her sleeping bag and her head on Melissa's shoulder, who didn't seem to care one way or the other, and Meyers had gotten into his sleeping bag too, now softly snoring.

"We'll take first watch," Ringo said, getting up from the crate they'd used to play caravan and which had been repurposed as a seat for Sunny and Ringo.

"We take second, jillaroo?"

"Sure, yeah."

Melissa frowned at Leza's head on her shoulder. "If I can shake off this sleepin' beauty here, that is."

"Aw..." Leza muttered quietly. "You called me a beauty."

"And you were supposed to be asleep," Melissa admonished. "If you can babble, you can get into your sleepin' bag. Go on, git."

Leza sat up sullenly, pulled her sleeping bag over her and lay back.

"Go on, sweetie," Sunny said to En. "Get some sleep. We'll wake you when it's your turn."

"Once again," Ringo remarked sourly, "the good sheriff and the blonde deftly escape the night's duties."

"Oh I bet the sheriff wouldn't mind fulfilling the night's duties with the blonde," En let slip. It was a bit malicious, but who cared.

"Well, he's not made of stone, I s'pose," Melissa said with a shrug. "C'mon, jillaroo, shut yer yap an' get some sleep."

En was already halfway in her sleeping bag. "Yes mom."

"Don't make me throw the tea pot at your face," Melissa grunted, lying down next to the fire, her arms under her head. She didn't seem to need a sleeping bag. En thought that made her ten kinds of crazy.

"Stel, any chance you can uh, you know..."

"YES?"

"... well, activate your heating function just enough so that your batteries can last all night?"

"I CAN, BUT HEATING EFFECTS WILL BE VERY MINIMAL."

"That's cool. Go ahead."

"ACTIVATING HEATING ELEMENTS. HEATING LEVEL SET TO MINIMAL."

She felt a slight but comfortable bit of heat emanating from the back plate. "Oohooooh, nice, thanks!"

"Good night," Sunny said, sitting on a rock next to Ringo.

"Night, Sunny."

Tired as she was, and with Stel's slight bit of heating making her feel extra snug, En was out like a light.


"Well, he's dead."

"Thanks, Veronica. I'm glad you're here to tell me these things."

"Aw, no need to get all snippy. I just like pointing out the obvious, it makes me feel smart."

"There's a note on him."

"You don't sit about, do you Cass?"

"Well... he's dead. He won't mind me riflin' through his pockets."

"If I die, will you stick your hands in my pockets too?"

"You wish."

"Yeah, because I'm a lesbian! I covet and violently rape every woman I meet! Especially women who've wandered on both sides of the tracks already and now pretend gay stuff disgusts them."

"It's not that you're a woman. It's that you're you."

"Haha, oh Cass, you don't fool me. I know you're just putting on an act. Anyway, you're stuck with me for the time being. Now what's in the note?"

"Uh... hm. He's meeting someone in the steam room. Or, well, he was meeting someone."

"We better go in his place then."

"In his place?"

"Yes."

"To the steam room?"

"Yes."

"With you?"

"Well, obviously."

"Go in his place. To the steam room. With you. Naked."

"Oh, Cass, for fuck's sake. Wear a freakin' towel if you're that horrified at the thought."

"Oh I will. And so will you."

"Aw, towels make me look fat."

"You'd probably look fat without a towel too."

"Oh-oh, nice comeback. I know you're only saying that 'cause you love me, though."

"It's my way of expressing I really want to hate you, but I can't."

"See?"

"You are wearing a towel though."

"Fine, fine. Now let's get moving. I wonder how En and her friends are doing."

"You mean that androgynous boygirl?"

"M-hm. I heard about those Boomers. Supposed to be really dangerous."

"Good."

"Aw, come on, she's a bit of a punk sometimes, but she's alright."

"I don't like her one bit."

"Yeah, I gathered. But come on, how were you at her age?"

"An adult. I had to be."

"Yeah, okay, but she's had the fortune of growing up in a loving and safe environment. So much the better for her, right? It's not something you should hate her for."

"I just don't like her."

"It's a free wasteland. Now come on. You and I have a date in the steam room."

"Yeah, yeah. But if I feel your hand anywhere on my body, you're losing it, got it?"

"Pft. You're no fun."


My name, you uncivilized buffoon, is Philippe. Gourmet chef of the Ultra-Luxe. Now what are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Uh... I'm uh..."

"Oh, joy, another stammering simpleton. I will ask again. What are you doing in my atelier?"

"We uh, the owners got an anonymous threat. Concerning your uh... esteemed person."

"Pshwah! Nonsense. Rubbish. Utter flimflam. Who would possibly threaten a great chef such as myself? An asset to the world? Hmmm?"

"Well... someone who's jealous, maybe? You know, like uh... high trees, they catch a lot of wind?"

"Hmmmm. Yes. Yes I suppose genius like mine is worshipped by most, but envied by some."

"Right. So I'm supposed to make sure nothing happens to you."

"Oh. A guard. How quaint."

"Uh... yeah."

"Then why were you skulking around like a vagabond?"

"Oh, I was... just uh... sweeping the area for IEDs."

"For what?"

"Bombs."

"Oh I see. Well, just... just stand in a corner and stay out of the way. You'll have the great honour of watching me and my sous-chefs at work as we employ our revolutionary new beef-cooking technique."

"Yeah. Lucky me."

"Yes, you are indeed very lucky. My sous-chefs will be here shortly to – ahh, there they are. Jean-Claude, Benoit, ready the lance-flammes, please?"

"... Yes, chef."

"Good. Make sure everything is prepared and I shall return shortly.

"Yes chef."

"Wait, are you guys really called Jean-Claude and Benoit?"

"Shit, no. Just John and Ben. He's just called Phil too, but he likes to pretend we're all French."

"I... see. I'm Garl – Gary. Need to guard you guys because there was an anonymous threat."

"Oh. Probably someone who wants "Philippe" dead. If my memory wasn't so good, I'd probably think it was me. So don't do too good a job."

"Uh... okay. By the way, why are you holding flame throwers?"

"Well, the new – "

"En avant, messieurs, let's get this show on the road. We have a full dining hall waiting for us and we will offer them nothing but the meilleur. We will go, as always, beyond the beef."

"Uh, mister Philippe?"

"Chef Philippe, you philistine!"

"Errr, yes. I haven't checked the freezer for IEDs yet. Would you mind if I did a quick check?"

"Of the freezer? No. No, that will not be necessary."

"Yes, but I can – "

"That will not! Be! Necessary!"

"I see. That's interesting."


"Wake-up time sweetie."

Sunny's voice tore En out of the dream she was in, about penguins that exploded when you threw them.

"Your turn."

"Hrrrrrr."

"Yeah. I know."

Melissa had made less of a fuss, already out of her sleeping bag and pouring a cup of the coffee Ringo had heated up before their shift ended. Thoughtful of him. "C'mon jill. You're keepin' 'em from their sleep."

"Yeah, yeah."

Sunny wasted no time getting into the sleeping bag she'd zipped onto Ringo's. "Have a good watch, you two."

Hm, not just En, but 'you two'. That was positive.

"So," Melissa asked, taking Ringo's place on the boulder. "Gonna see the Boomers again tomorrow?"

"Yeah, guess so."

"I get the feelin' you're not tellin' us the whole story though."

Wait, what? "Huh? Not the whole story? What are you talking about?"

Melissa looked at her intently, the fire flickering yellow on her face. "It felt like there was somethin' you were holdin' back when you talked about the whole thing with the ants in the gennie room."

Crap, it had been showing. But maybe... En didn't believe in signs, but maybe this was one. A chance given to fess up and tell the truth. Melissa would understand, or at least try to. Maybe this was an opportunity to make right what she'd done, lying about her accidental murder. If she kept quiet about it now, she'd keep quiet about it forever, so this was the last chance.

"Nope. Not holding anything back."

Dammit. She was a coward. But maybe it was for the best that way. There was really nothing that would change by her being honest. It wouldn't bring Raquel back or even honour her memory. It wouldn't make the Boomers grateful for her honesty, but quite the opposite. No one, literally no one would benefit from her confession.

Sure, it was the right thing to do, but what good was doing the right thing if it harmed everyone? No, best bury it deep down and stay quiet.

"Alright," Melissa said, looking away and sounding convinced. "Just sayin', you can tell me stuff if you wanna."

"Heh, thanks, but there's nothing to tell." Apart from the fact that I'm a lying weasel.

"Cool."

There was a short silence, and then Melissa spoke up. "Y'know, jill, I've been thinkin'."

"Oh no," En joked.

"I know, I know," Melissa said with a grin. "But with that whole spunky-dead-chick picture business, I've skipped to the last chapter in that storybook of yours an' read what happened to her. Cooked to death in a burnin' reactor."

"Yup. Extra crispy."

"It got me thinkin' about death and stuff, and – "

"Whoa, Melissa, you're not gonna get all emo on me are you?"

That earned her a playful slap against the shoulder. "Quiet, ankle-biter. No, I'm kinda wonderin'... when you die, is there like, a single thought or an image you keep in your head?"

'I'unno." She hadn't really thought about dying, to be honest. Wasn't something that was on her to-do list and wouldn't be for a very long time.

"I just wonder."

"Well, I think there is," En guessed. "I mean that Raquel chick must have had something on her mind when she died, pointing at the sky and all."

Melissa frowned. "Pointin' at the sky? I thought she got dragged underground by giant ants?"

Awh, crap. Shit, she'd run her mouth. "Uh... only half. I pulled her out. She was wounded but still alive."

"That sounds like a pretty unlikely story."

"Well it's how it went, okay?" En snapped. It was too late to come clean.

"Whoa, easy there. I'm just sayin'. Anyway, I wonder if people really have this one image in their heads when they die. But I guess I'll never know. Don't know anyone who died and lived to tell – " She abruptly fell silent. And En knew why.

"All I saw was a gun barrel and all I could think of was not to cry and not to wet my pants. Least I didn't cry. That answer your question?"

"Sorry, jill. Didn't mean to remind you of that. Or myself, for that matter."

En shrugged. She'd decided to forgive her so that meant she had to stick by that decision. "It's okay. In the past, right?"

"Mm. Anyways, I wonder."

"About?"

"Well. What image will be in my mind when I die. If I even realize it."

"Oh. Well, guess you'll see huh?"

"Tchyeah, but hopefully not for a very long time."

"Heh. Obviously."

"So. Not too homesick?"

En had to make a lopsided shrug and admit, "Yeah, kinda. I mean, it's fun travelling with you guys, but I miss home sometimes yeah. And it's not just that I miss it. I can't stay away too long or someone will put her claws into the guy I like."

"Heh, Riiiiight. Forgot about that."

"Oh I haven't. But I'm not too worried. Alison will make sure no one touches him."

"Mm. Sounds like a true friend, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

Melissa rose with a groan. "Well, I'm still hungry, even though Meyers' stew tastes like it's passed through the digestive system of a Yao Guai."

"Well, in his defence, he didn't have a lot to work with."

"Still." Melissa scooped up a ladle of stew and sploshed it into her tin. "Hey 'yknow what, I'll guard the fort on my own, you get some sleep, yeah?"

En knew it would be good form to refuse and sit out the watch with Melissa, but she was dead tired, and good form had to take a backseat today. "You sure?" she asked regardless.

"Yeah. Go on, catch a few winks. I'm used to standin' guard on my own. I won't fall asleep."

"Thanks, Melissa. I'd be lying if I said I didn't need it."

"Thought so. Go on, sleep."

En didn't need any more encouragement. Still warmed by Stel's heating elements, she was asleep before she even realized she was lying down.