CHAPTER EIGHT
AMBUSH / FRIENDLY FIRE, PART 3
"Your Grace, follow me! Countess. . . . Countess Misoun, please come here. . . . AVINA!"
Ferias' usually quiet voice rose in a scream, startling Avina out of her terrified stupor. The young Countess turned at the shout of her name, but a horde of Guardians blocked her path, and she couldn't see where her companions were. She tried to push her way through them, kicking desperately with her arms and legs, but they reached out hands to snatch her away, and Avina could only shoot blindly with her gun.
A Guardian fell, wounded by a lucky shot, and Avina darted through the hole in the wall of Guardians. Her breath came in loud, ragged gasps, and her legs were on fire. She had never run this much in her life, and she would soon pay for it. Her feet struck the ground heavily, and weariness weighed her down. In another few nanoseconds the Guardians would be on her, and all hope would be lost.
The Countess silently cursed the Guardians. They never tired. They were always fresh and ready to fight and delete her officers. A handful of Guardians — only a handful — had fallen since she had begun fighting them; it had to have been at least a microsecond ago.
Her anger miraculously spurred her on, and Avina found that she could somehow keep running. Hate filled her body and set her core-com on fire. She emptied her processor of thoughts and let only curses flow in. She swore in her mind, despising every pixel of the Guardians and Daemon and whatever twist of fate had caused Daemon to learn of Azrael's location and attack them.
Then she was slowed down. One Guardian shot a laser her way, and Avina dodged it. But the shot ricocheted off the cement wall and struck her arm, raising a large, red welt and causing Avina to drop her gun. She slumped against the cool wall, the gray stone smeared with sprite and binome energy. Pain, mixed with her present exhaustion, was quickly making her dizzy, and through bleary eyes she was just able to perceive the same Guardian aiming his gun at her.
The larger of her two guards, a brawny, balding man with midnight-blue skin, flung himself in front of Avina. His force slammed her into the wall, but the laser intended for her hit him instead. It bounced off his armor, but Avina still cried out, in shock and fear.
The guard grinned wearily at her. "No worries, Your Grace. I'm just protecting you until one of our guys cuts down this bas —" His cheery words were abruptly cut off as a shot struck him full-force, driving past his armor and into the soft skin of the sprite. The guard's smile flashed to a grimace, and he suddenly released a wet, hacking cough. His hands tightened reflexively on Avina's shoulders, and a shudder raced through his body.
Avina couldn't help the revulsion that flooded her body. She wriggled out of his death-grip and let his body slump to the dusty ground. Bile painted the back of her throat, but Avina forced it back and instead dropped to the ground as the next laser carved a hole in the rock where her chest had been.
The odor of energy was strong, and again Avina's stomach roiled. Her lips trembling as she struggled to hold back more than her tears, she carefully shut her guard's eyes and pushed herself up on her knees. After a moment of consideration, she grimly pried his fingers off of his gun and hefted it experimentally. It was much larger than her own, and if she had any hope of surviving this night she had to use all the firepower she could get.
Countess Avina raced for cover; she had seen some of the CPUs duck into some sort of shelter. Bullets rained down on her from all sides, and around her binomes fell and disappeared in brief white flashes. An Azraelian sprite dove at a Guardian and was shot in the chest. The Guardian he had fought picked up the fallen sprite's gun and proceeded on to the next victims.
Avina tripped over a prone body but regained her footing before falling. She had the misfortune to glance back and saw the face of her other, best-trained guard staring back at her, his mouth open in a silent scream as energy dribbled from his lips.
A hand shot out and wrapped around her ankle, and the viciously merciless Guardian tugged roughly on Avina's ankle. She dropped to her knees, sobbing in frustration and nearly dropping her gun. With an effort, she twisted her torso around and shot furiously at the Guardian, not caring where she hit him as long as she scored a shot. The Guardian's grin was soon wiped off his face — literally — as shot after shot blasted holes in his head and ripped away vein-covered skin. He finally keeled over, energy dripping from countless wounds in his face and neck, and his hand opened enough that Avina could slip her ankle out of his grip.
Countess Avina screamed. What else could she do? Her chest heaved with racking sobs, and she cried out in fear and anger until her throat was raw and her voice was gone. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she propelled herself up from the ground and stumbled toward the shelter, which was now in plain sight. Her guards and CPUs were huddled there, waving her in. A sprite crept out and yanked Avina in; she couldn't have resisted if she had tried.
Now Avina did retch. She was violently sick for several milliseconds as her guards watched on. None of them thought less of her; they had all experienced a minor battle or two, but the Countess had never been prepared for the bloodshed a huge fight would entail. When Avina had finished, Ferias carefully crawled to her side and handed her a rag from someone's uniform to wipe her face and hands.
Avina wiped her face and collapsed into the arms of her friend. "Ferias, you're alive," she croaked in no more than a whisper, her eyes burning because she had shed all the tears she could. "The Guardians — they deleted — the others —"
"I know," Ferias answered; though there was no evidence of a sob in her voice, her throat tightened to the point where she could barely speak. "User, I know."
The shelter in which they were huddled was a little more than an abandoned shack. The Guardians' relentless laserfire had nearly beaten down the walls. The CPUs tightened their grips on their weapons and grimly watched the enemy through the sooty windows. They were ready to fight and delete and be deleted.
Watching them, Avina felt an overwhelming rush of pride, and more tears slipped down her dirty cheeks. Here were the citizens of Azrael. They weren't the pompous millionaires who overlooked construction on new buildings and the preservation of environmental parks. Azrael's real protectors were every CPU and guard who trained and fought for their system. Their energy stained Azrael's soil, and their codes disappeared into the system's atmosphere when they had fought all they could and yet fought some more and were finally cut down and released from their duty. They remained true and faithful.
The rich men and women Avina had conversed with at dinner the previous evening were cowering in their mansions and hotel suites like cowards, whimpering every time they saw a CPU transport shot down on the news.
Avina sat with the fighting class of Azrael now, and she realized how dedicated they were to the safety of their fellow sprites and binomes, who were also huddled under bed sheets. These CPUs had families and homes, yet they were giving it all up to stop unbeatable Guardians and keep their spouses and children from being deleted.
Countess Avina Param Misoun would be deleted with them, if that would be what it took to drive back Daemon's Guardians for good. She sat up straighter, wiped her eyes with one hand, and curled her fingers around the gun she had picked up from one of her fallen guards. In his name, and for all who had been deleted or were nearing the end of their lives, she would fight until every last drop of energy had bled from her body.
The Guardians were advancing. Their guns were held out before them, the glowing muzzles trained on the sprites and binomes using the cement wall as a shield. There was nowhere for the Azraelians to go; they would be deleted in only a few more nanos.
And then hope arrived, in the form of one of the mercenaries from Mainframe who rushed out of the Principle Office. For the life of her, Avina couldn't remember his name — Bob? No, that was the blue man. There was Axis, but he was blue too. Finally, she recognized the pudgy, olive-skinned sprite as Dram Freeware. He swaggered onto the corpse-ridden scene, swinging some sort of rod with a glowing blue-green substance at the end of it.
Countess Avina's first thought was entirely ungrateful, because she had no idea what Dram was thinking: They're going to shoot him down, and then they're going to delete us. Great, one more millisecond before I get killed.
Dram Freeware let loose a ringing cry, which Avina wouldn't have imagined in him. "You filthy Guardians are gonna die!" he screamed, brandishing the glowing staff. As one, the Guardians all turned their heads toward Dram questioningly. He whipped the staff down and pointed the head at the Guardians. He must have pressed a button, because suddenly small discs shot out of the staff and struck the Guardians in the chest. They stumbled back and were immediately suspended in file-locks.
Dram advanced without hesitation, and now it was the Guardians who backed away. The short mercenary continued with his rapid shots, and soon half of the Guardians were frozen and entirely unable to fight.
Dram tossed aside the first staff and yanked another from his belt. "Bring it on!" he yelled. "I've got lots more where that came from!"
The Guardians — or perhaps Daemon, controlling the Guardians — decided that they would be useless if frozen. They backed away from Dram and bolted for their transport. Dram caught one or two of them in mid-leap, and they clattered to the ground, their figures surrounded by blue-green cubes. The rest dashed up the ladders into their transport and hurriedly slammed the hatch closed behind them. The transport slowly lifted into the air and spun around until it was facing the roof of the Principle Office.
Avina could have cried with relief, but her tears were spent. Somehow, she managed a hoarse cheer as she slowly rose from beneath the shelter. Dram whirled around, but he relaxed upon recognizing the Azraelian guards, led by their ruler.
"Thank you," the Countess whispered, unable to form any other words. She swallowed hard and was able to add, "You saved our lives. Thank you so much, Dram Freeware."
His face was hard, and the expression in his eyes didn't soften one bit. "You're welcome," he answered stiffly, turning his attention toward the slowly rising Guardian transport. "Don't celebrate yet; they're in the air."
The stench of rotting bodies and energy still hung in the air, but Avina was already able to breathe easier. "That is something I think we can handle," she told Dram and her CPUs. She grabbed a communicator from the CPU chief and spoke into it. "Principle Office, this is Countess Misoun. Do you see the Guardian transport hovering over your roof?"
The communicator crackled for a nano, then a female's voice came from the other end. "Affirmative, Your Grace. Guns are tracking its every movement."
Countess Avina looked up at the roof of the Principle Office and saw the lasers poised. The grin that flashed over her face was feral. "Shoot them out of the sky."
"Will do, and will enjoy every nano of it," the female officer replied from the other end. The connection ended, and they all turned toward the Principle Office to watch the colorful display of lasers attack the lumbering black transport. The lasers scored a direct hit, and orange and red flames appeared on the ship, slowly eating away at the hull.
The Guardians tried furiously to make their ship rise up so that they could escape to the Net or the Web, but already the shots had taken their toll. The transport wobbled uncertainly in the air, then took a steep nosedive. It spiraled into the ground, and a wall of fire rose from a spot far beyond the Principle Office. From the roof came audible shouts of triumph.
"Look over there," Ferias commented coolly, although her emotions were anything but. Avina spun around and watched as the other two transports began to lift off from the ground. She saw ant-sized shapes scurry into the ships before they blasted off for the edge of Azrael; apparently, they had the same idea as the first unfortunate transport.
Avina spoke to the CPUs at the Principle Office again. "Commander . . ."
"I see them, Your Grace, and I'm sending ships out as we speak."
The transports hovered uncertainly over Azrael's Principle Office. Daemon was not willing to escape Azrael without the sprite she had come for, but the tide had turned against her. Azrael's citizens had taken the force of her attack and shoved it back onto her; three-fourths of her troops were out of the fighting, and there were plenty more Azraelians to take on the rest of her Guardians.
Far away in the Web, the super-virus hissed in fury at the young Countess and the Mainframers. Gnashing her teeth, she finally closed her eyes and relayed the message to the two transports in the sky.
"Return to my base." She would attack again and delete all the sprites who had opposed her that night. Then again, the situation in Mainframe was coming along perfectly on-schedule. Daemon would have at least one victory there.
As the Guardian transports wheeled around and shot for the outer limits of Azrael, CPU ships followed close on their tails. Bright laserfire struck strategic points on one transport's hull, and it staggered in the air.
But it didn't fall. The Guardian transport circled slowly and brought its huge guns to point right at the smaller CPU. Avina's core-com tightened in sudden panic. Fortunately, the more agile ship dodged the laserfire and retaliated, shoving the Guardian ship out of its flight path. Smoke billowing from its side, the transport sagged and dipped behind the far wall of the Principle Office for quick repairs before it could set off for the Net.
Before Avina could issue the command herself, a CPU broke off from the group to follow the transport. Countess Avina chewed her lip anxiously as she watched the CPU slip around the edge of the P.O.
But it turned out they had bigger troubles. Namely, one huge problem. That dilemma quickly made itself known in a ferocious crackling explosion. Avina and the remaining sprites and binomes twisted around, their weapons raised. The guns were no help, however, against the burning wall of fire that had erupted in the eastern point of the Principle Office.
The Principle Office was slowly burning. Room after room was being invaded by crackling fire that steadily tore down the supports and attacked each room's contents. The flames licked hungrily at pictures, desks and chairs, data files — anything and everything was reduced to ash and grotesquely twisted metal.
On the ground, it was utter mayhem. Guardians and CPUs were locked in deadly combat, battling with blasters, cannons, and hard punches and kicks. The black sky was studded with stars and shot through with iridescent laserfire. Sprites and binomes dropped to the dirt, already piled with corpses of their comrades and enemies, with screams of pain and fear, their bodies battered beyond the point of processing. Some deleted immediately, while others were forced to endure long microseconds of bleeding, until they ceased to breathe at all.
Matrix raced out of the Principle Office's western point, adrenaline pumping endlessly through his energy. He had run without stopping since the core-stopping moment he had seen Bob —
Matrix gasped as the frigid night air crawled through his clothing and pierced his skin with its icy touch. He tripped and fell heavily to the ground, bracing his fall with his hands in time. Though his chest ached with his ragged breathing and held-back sobs, he shoved himself to his feet again and stumbled down the gravel road beside the P.O.
The sounds of battle reached his ears from over the wall of the Principle Office. Too much fighting, too many sprites deleted. I used to thrill for the hunt and the kill, but now I want nothing to do with it, absolutely nothing at all. Matrix staggered away in an almost drunken stupor, but there was no intoxication inside him.
And yet, there was something dangerously wrong with the renegade. There had to be. Matrix could never face himself if there weren't a cause for the abominable act he had committed. He just needed an explanation, to know that it wasn't his fault he had . . . that he had —
He couldn't even phrase the horrible thought.
Matrix shivered, his eyes darting from side to side as a feeling of unease grew in his stomach. He paused in the overhang of a shop where the darkness concealed his large form, excepting his glowing red eye. Matrix shut his eyes and whispered to himself to calm the hammering in his core-com, but it didn't help.
The rational part of his processor — unfortunately, a very small part at the moment — urged him to return to the Principle Office and bring Bob to safety, or at least to contact the Azraelian guards and inform them of the situation.
But then, that same icy voice taunted in his head; Matrix had given up trying to get rid of her, and he listened without fighting, because there was no way in the Net he could. But then they would link you to the shooting. You'll be thrown into jail before you can say "alphanumeric".
His tormentor paused thoughtfully. Matrix could just imagine the grin that spread across her face, and he knew she was laughing when she said, Or, they'll put you on deletion row, and your life will be snuffed out like a candle. That's what they do to murderers.
Matrix's chest tightened in real, insistent fear, and he struggled to respond. He didn't even know if the voice could hear him. Bob can't be deleted! Please, don't let him die! I should die, for what I did to him. Bob deserves to live far more than I do. Air rushed back into his chest, and a loud sob wrenched itself from his throat before Matrix could stop it. His suffering in the Games had given him experience with how to hide his crying, and he firmly shut his mouth and swallowed the load of sobs that tore at his lips to be free. His entire body ached with the effort, but finally the sobs subsided, and Matrix could breathe freely again.
As Matrix burst from the Principle Office, the CPU transport assigned to follow a straggling Guardian ship appeared over the edge of the P.O. As the captain guided the ship through the inky blackness of night, searching for the black transport camouflaged very well, his searchlight passed over the form of a large sprite.
The captain paused and brought the searchlight back, until it brightened the hollow where a hulking green sprite huddled against the wall of a shop. The captain strained his eyes to see the sprite and finally recognized him as one from the group of mercenaries assigned to watch Countess Misoun. This sprite must have been separated from the rest during the ambush, and he was trying to find his way back to his companions while keeping out of sight of the Guardians.
The captain grinned, thinking that the Countess would be overjoyed to see one of her mercenaries safe again. He brought his CPU into a slow dive, heading right toward the lone sprite. He readied a megaphone so he could speak with the sprite when he landed.
Matrix nearly suffered a core-com attack when a huge searchlight illuminated his hiding spot, placing him in complete view. He dove into the alley beside the shop and crouched low to the ground, keeping his breathing shallow as he nervously watched the air above him.
The bright searchlight followed his movements, digging deep into the dark alley until it fell on his form again. Matrix tried to look up but was blinded by the glare of the light. He swore angrily and shut his eyes; in his haste, he failed to recognize Azrael's coat of arms, however dirty and faded it was, painted on the side of the CPU ship.
The Guardian ship that was supposed to be tailed by the CPU paused in its escape and slowly pivoted to see what was holding up its enemy. Passing another, green-tinted searchlight over the ground, the Guardians quickly sighted Matrix. Recognizing him as one of the sprites Daemon desired to delete, the transport swooped in for the kill.
Bright red lasers gouged chunks out of the ground next to Matrix, and he flattened himself against the wall. Now he had two ships to worry about. He was sure they were both sent by Daemon, come to capture him and bring him to the super-virus. But he was part of the Matrix family, and there was no way that he would go down without a hell of a fight.
Matrix yanked Gun out of the holster and held it up threateningly. He narrowed his eyes, the cybernetic implant already targeting, and shot at the smaller ship that was closer to him.
The CPU reeled and tried to back away, as the shots from Gun began to make some damage on the battered hull. Azraelian sprites and binomes swore and shouted at the large green sprite on the ground, wondering why he was shooting at his comrades. The captain of the transport held out his megaphone and shouted, "Put down your weapons." Perhaps if he had added, "We mean no harm" Matrix would have recognized the Azraelian guards.
Matrix chuckled grimly under his breath. "Not a chance."
The CPU, under attack from the misunderstanding sprite, swiveled and attempted to escape behind the roof of the Principle Office. As the captain turned around his ship, he came face to face with a leering Guardian visible in the viewport of the Guardian ship. In trying to rescue Matrix, he had not seen which way the transport had gone. Now, it filled his view and dwarfed the tiny ship.
Matrix, meanwhile, darted behind another building and edged along the slimy brick walls of the adjoining alleyway until he was certain that he was out of sight. Only then did he slump to the dirty, garbage-covered ground and expel the breath he had been holding. He rested his head on his arms, though he still gripped Gun in his right hand.
Daemon's Guardians had lost sight of Matrix, but there was a CPU ship, full of sprites and binomes, right in front of them, so they weren't too disappointed. The commander of the transport, a lanky man with glaringly white skin, sent out the orders as transmitted to him by Daemon: "Delete them."
The transport, though wounded in flight, had its weapons charged at one-hundred percent. The two huge lasers in the front of the transport, as well as four smaller guns on the sides, swiveled around to point directly at the CPU. Now the Azraelians didn't care about one psychotic sprite shooting at them; they raced back the way where Matrix was, their engines glowing white with the power thrown into their burst of speed. The Guardians pursued, like a cat tailing a piece of string. Their lasers glowed bright green, prepared for the moment they would be let loose.
When they were only a hundred feet apart, bright gunshots exploded from the Guardian transport and pummeled the CPU. The Guardian ship veered sharply and rose into the air to avoid the destruction from its own blasts. The black transport hovered in the midnight sky, watching closely as the CPU struggled to perform automatic repairs. But the lasers had hit all sides of the ship and rendered it unable to fly.
The CPU ship blazed in the night, plummeting toward the Principle Office. It crashed into the northwestern point, and crackling flames leaped off its hull to attack the shimmering metal of the roof. In milliseconds, the fire would reach into the Principle Office and spread to the other rooms the other flames had missed.
The Guardians, satisfied with their work, circled once and flew for the outer limits of the system. They were joined by the only other surviving transport, and the two ships rose like sleek, dark hawks. A golden portal blossomed in the sky, and Daemon's two transports — carrying a significantly reduced number of Guardians than when they first entered Azrael — slipped through, leaving behind an assaulted system and a ruined Principle Office.
Matrix didn't know what had happened to the Guardian ships tracking him; when he peeked around the corner, he saw no ships. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed the beginnings of a fire, but he didn't think to connect it to the two transports that had flown above him.
Matrix curled up in the shadow of a dumpster and wrapped his brawny arms around his legs, looking for all the Net like Little Enzo fighting off some sort of internal demon. Matrix squeezed his eyes shut and took several deep breaths of the bitter air.
Everything would be all right, he willed himself to believe. In the morning, things would be okay again.
Little did Matrix know, but he had just cost ten Azraelian citizens their lives.
Eide heard Axis' voice squawking over her communicator. She picked it off her belt and listened to his second message. But the Principle Office was huge, not to mention complex, and it wasn't until at least ten milliseconds later that she could make her way through the sectors and find the western point.
"Oh User above!" she cried when she saw the two sprites. "Axis, what happened?"
"Where do I start?" Axis sighed.
Eide tentatively raised a hand to his cheek; her fingers came off smeared with energy. "Is this Bob's energy, or —" She studied him more closely and inhaled sharply when she saw his twisted nose and the mottled bruises surrounding it. "What in the Net happened to you, Lurker?"
"Fight with a Guardian," he answered simply. "It's not important; the Guardian's gone for good, and that's all that matters. I'll get treated later."
Eide nodded, the shadow of a smile on her lips. "So, what happened to Bob, then?" she asked, suddenly crisp and businesslike again.
"Did you hear the gunshot?" Axis inquired.
"I heard hundreds of gunshots," she snapped back.
"Well, I heard this one and then Bob moaning. When I got here, I saw him lying on the ground. I couldn't see any other sprites, but someone shot him."
"Filthy, dirty Guardians," Eide muttered. She clenched a fist. "Now I'm sounding like Freeware."
"Come on, let's get Bob out of here," Axis urged. Eide helped him to lift Bob, and together the two sprites brought the senseless Guardian out of the chamber. Bob twitched slightly in their arms, but he remained unconscious. When Eide pressed her ear to his chest, his breathing was dangerously shallow and the beat of his core-com was faint.
"How much energy has he lost?" she asked Axis.
"I don't know how much exactly. When I found him, he seemed to have been shot only a short while ago, probably by one of those Guardians. I've tried to stop the bleeding; I put my jacket over it, and I think most of it's been stopped for now."
They reached the southern point to find no one but the fallen bodies of Guardians.
"Why haven't they fragmented?" Axis questioned, looking at the lifeless forms.
"That's what I was wondering," Eide answered. "No time to ponder it right now." She looked around. "I thought Matrix was supposed to be here."
"I think he was, but he must have moved to another point." Axis sighed. "Everybody's somewhere else. So much confusion."
"Just what they wanted," Eide said grimly. Her hands slipped, then she tightened her hold on Bob's body. "Let's go."
After what seemed like hellish microseconds, they emerged onto the street. The cold night air pressed against their bodies after the heat of battle inside the P.O., and Axis shivered. The sky was pitch black, as it was the middle of the night. Lights in the Principle Office had been switched on, illuminating the building and the streets around it with a ghostly glow.
Even though her injured arm had begun to ache fiercely again, Eide took most of Bob's weight from Axis, allowing him to rest his aching arms momentarily. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, ignoring the energy he smeared over his face in doing so, adjusted his glasses, and looked around. What he saw made him stumble back in shock and almost fall.
"User Above," Axis uttered fearfully. "Look."
At his whisper, Eide turned toward the eastern point of Azrael's Principle Office. She sucked in her breath sharply and almost dropped Bob. Axis quickly returned to her side and took some of Bob's weight in his arms again. Both sprites gazed sadly on the horrible sight of destruction.
The Principle Office's eastern point had been completely decimated. The ceiling and walls had been blown apart, and a bright fire raged around and inside the point. The red and orange flames devoured everything in its sight, but, fortunately, it hadn't yet reached the other sections. Black smoke poured into the air, the small wind blowing it toward the rest of the sector.
Sirens blared in the distance, startling Axis and Eide out of their horrified stupor. They watched as ambulances, white paint standing out in the smoky night, raced toward the eastern point. Bright red fire trucks followed, letting out their keening alarm as well.
The vehicles halted abruptly front of the P.O., and scores of firefighters streamed forth. Without a second thought, they plunged into the maze of fire and crumbling walls. The paramedics hovered at the edge of the scene, waiting for victims to be pulled out and transported to the hospital.
Eide and Axis started toward one of the ambulances when they heard the voice of Countess Avina. The young woman ran toward them, limping slightly. Wisps of her hair stuck out around her face, and the rest of her braid was plastered to the back of her neck. Her skin was smudged and bloodied, and her clothes were torn. Ferias was still by her side, but the other guards were nowhere to be seen.
The Countess reached the mercenaries and opened her mouth to speak, but she caught sight of Bob. The large gun she carried clattered to the ground, and she covered her mouth with her dirty hands. Her eyes, bright with tears, darted from Bob's form to Eide and Axis.
"Is he . . . ?" she started, her voice scratchy.
"He'll be all right," Axis assured her, "if we can get him to a hospital, now."
"I can't feel my legs," Bob moaned, and all eyes turned to him. He flailed slightly, but Axis pressed a hand on his chest to keep him from moving.
Avina tentatively touched Bob's head, feeling his sweat-damp hair. "It's all right, Bob," she said in a trembling voice. She swallowed thickly and turned toward the eastern point of the Principle Office. Her lower lip quivered, but she called out in a loud, authoritative voice, "We need help over here!"
The paramedics saw her and nodded, but they couldn't move the ambulance. A group of binomes rushed over, carrying a stretcher among them. Axis and Eide let the medics lift Bob onto the stretcher, and they followed as he was carried to the ambulance at the eastern point.
"Four squads, to me!" the fire chief yelled over the din. All heads turned to him, weary eyes filled with questions.
"There's another fire, in the northwestern point of the Principle Office!" the fire chief explained at full bellow. "I need four squads there — now!"
Avina shaded her eyes and stared hard in the direction of the smaller point located between the north and west apexes. Sure enough, crackling flames had almost swallowed that section of the Principle Office. The flames grew steadily, bringing a gruesome light to the dark sky.
Without wasting time, the four trucks the fire chief had requested departed from the eastern point's fire and flew around the Principle Office. Avina thought a quick prayer for the firefighters. Once they were out of sight, she helped the others carry Bob's body to the nearest ambulance.
Bob was placed behind the protection of a huge energy shield that had been set up around the ambulances. The four sprites clustered around him and watched as medics worked to staunch the energy and keep him stable.
"Does he need an energy transfusion?" Eide asked.
One of the medics nodded and looked up at her. "He's lost a lot of energy."
"All right, then take some from me," Eide said without hesitation. She rolled up her sleeve and didn't even flinch when the machine began to suck her life energy away. "Bob's a hero, and he's not going to get deleted by some meaningless Guardian," she said fiercely.
Eide gasped when the medic gently pulled the tube from her arm and handed her a bandage to put on her bicep. "Wait," she said as the paramedic was turning away, "tell the guards: There are some Guardians in the . . . in the southeastern point. They're in file-locks, so hopefully they haven't gotten away." The medic nodded and turned to leave.
"Hold on a nano, please." Countess Avina turned toward the same paramedic and ordered, "Keep me updated on all sprites who come into the hospital, injured or not. All the sprites, understand?"
"Yes, Your Grace," the medic replied. Avina dismissed him with a nod and a small smile, and the medic ran off to help his companions, mentally going over the various messages he had been sent off with.
"I'll be right back," the Countess told the two mercenaries, "I promise. And Bob will get help soon." With Ferias following, Avina raced back to the dirty ground outside the southern point where her guards had fallen. They were still clinging to life, she realized when she saw their bodies, but they had been mortally wounded and wouldn't survive the night.
Steeling herself, the Countess slowly walked to where the men's bodies lay and dropped to her knees between the bodies. Tears slipped down her cheeks, but her throat was too raw to let out cries. She placed a hand on each guard's chest, her fist tightening in the fabric of their uniforms. Avina's body shook with sobs, and her mouth opened in a silent cry.
"I'm so sorry," Avina whispered. "I love you both — and you're going to delete because of me."
"It is our job to protect you," the second guard assured her, "and this was the best fight of our lives." A violent cough cut off his words, and energy poured out of his throat. Avina ignored the hot energy that gushed over her hand and continued to cry for her loyal men.
"Goodbye, Your Grace," her first guard managed in a hoarse whisper, and his core-com grew fainter under her hand.
Avina touched the lips of each guard with her hands and whispered, "User give you both a peaceful processing in the afterlife."
The second guard closed his eyes, letting himself be taken from Avina's world without a fight. The other man followed, a smile on his face.
Avina's mourning was interrupted by the appearance of a young soldier, standing rigidly at attention. Avina turned to acknowledge the sprite but didn't stand.
"The Guardians have been beaten away, and they are no longer a threat," the soldier informed her. "What shall we do now, Your Grace?"
Avina replied, "Send a message to Mainframe immediately. They must know what happened."
The soldier nodded and left. Avina turned back to the corpses of her guards and let her tears fall, to strike their still expressions before their bodies shimmered and disappeared.
"There's been an attack in Azrael!" Specky cried when the news was transferred to him.
Dot's chest constricted painfully, and suddenly the air felt too heavy to breathe. Had Daemon really reached Azrael faster than they had anticipated? "Is anyone hurt?" she snapped, quickly turning crisp and businesslike.
"The Countess doesn't say," Specky replied after consulting the message. "She just says that Guardians ambushed the Principle Office about a micro ago. The worst of the fighting's over, but everyone's separated, and there are some serious injuries."
Dot's core-com fluttered in her chest. She swallowed and mentally forced down the anxiety, assuring herself that everything would turn out fine. She managed to quell her nervousness, but there was no way she would sit and listen to the results of the ambush.
"I'm going there," Dot announced.
Phong put a hand on her shoulder. "Dot, my child, have you thought this through?"
"Bob or Matrix or AndrAIa could be hurt," Dot said in a firm voice. "They need me. I know I can help them. I'm taking a ship to Azrael, and that's that."
She looked to Specky. "Specky, I need the coordinates to Azrael, now. Phong, you know where all the ships are situated. Take me to the docking bay." Phong lowered his head sadly but did as Dot said.
Specky handed Dot a file with the system's coordinates, and she briskly nodded her thanks. As Dot was leaving the War Room, she hesitated. "Don't tell Enzo about this," she added to the CPUs. They saluted her, and Specky called, "Yes, Sir-Ma'am!"
Mouse opened her eyes and was met with darkness from all around her. She blinked several times to adjust her vision to the dark hotel room, and she propped herself up on one arm.
From the look of things, it was a little after midnight, and Mouse had absolutely no idea why she had awoken. Then, she suddenly remembered the tugging feeling that had pulled at her consciousness since the previous evening — only a few micros ago — when she and Ethan had snapped at one another.
Mouse was curious to know and still wondered why Ethan had been out in the middle of the night. It seemed for at least four nights he had sneaked out of the cramped hotel and gone off to do some business. Mouse didn't want to assume the worst, but she had a feeling that, in their present situation, things weren't about to get any better.
Mouse crawled over to the other side of the bed and nudged the blue-skinned Guardian. "Ethan, wake up."
"Huh, wha --?" he muttered, turning over on his side to see her.
"Ethan, Ah've gotta talk to ya," Mouse whispered. The earnest look in her eyes forced Ethan to sit up. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and curled his arms around his knees. "Okay, shoot."
"Ethan," Mouse began slowly, "for the last couple of nights, you've been leaving this room and doin' stuff Ah don't know about. What have you been up to?"
Daemon had prepared him with a sure-fire answer: "I've been taking care of us. On the first night, I talked to the man at the hotel; I did the same last night. I also went to check out this small system we've dumped ourselves into. It's nothing to worry about, Mouse."
"What about the other nights?" Mouse prodded. "Ah've seen you go out more than three times, Ethan."
Ethan flashed a sheepish grin and admitted, "Well, I've been sleepwalking. At least, I'm pretty sure I have; it's hard to tell when you're in the middle of it." Mouse tilted her head to the side; Ethan did have an alibi — not rock-solid, yet it made some sense — but she still felt something nag at her, telling her that she shouldn't believe it.
"All right," she finally said, and Ethan nodded in satisfaction. Mouse returned to her spot and pulled the thin sheets around her. Under the cover of the sheets, she double-checked the knife she had stored in her pant leg; she trusted Ethan to an extent, but there was no way she would be basic when it came to Daemon. The super-virus would stop at nothing and pull every heartstring to get sprites to trust her, Mouse was sure.
Mouse bolted up when a shape passed by her to go to the bathroom. She relaxed upon recognizing Ethan, who grinned and shook his head before entering the small bathroom.
Ethan's smile dropped as he shut and locked the door. His hands trembled with rage, and in retaliation the veins that marked him as an infected sprite pulsed steadily. His shaking hand closed around a small glass cup. Ethan opened his mouth wide to scream, but Daemon was anticipating the action. She cut off his vocal cords, so all that left his mouth was a wheeze. She didn't control his hand, however, and he flung the glass into the mirror. It shattered, scattering shards of glass. Ethan dropped to the cold porcelain floor and hung his head. His chest heaved, but no sound escaped.
This was what he was reduced to: a mindless dummy almost completely under Daemon's control, forced to do her bidding until it deleted him — or until Daemon tired of a rebellious slave and killed him outright.
Mouse opened her eyes to darkness again. Mumbling under her breath about lost sleep, though she'd suffered much worse before, she wondered what had woken her up this time.
She sat up, raking a hand through her mussed hair, and stared around the room. A cool breeze hung over the bed, and goosebumps were raised on Mouse's arms. She glared around until she found the door hanging slightly ajar. The cold air must have slipped in through there.
Mouse flung aside the blankets, her irritation rising, and walked over to shut the door. As she turned the lock again, she frowned. Why was the door open in the first place?
"Oops, I did it again," Ethan whispered, his voice soft and gloomy. Mouse stopped herself from shrieking just in time and spun around. She placed her hands on her hips and glared at her companion, who was curled up in a tiny wooden chair. He hugged his arms around himself but didn't say anything more.
Mouse was about to give Ethan a piece of her mind for startling her like that when she realized that he didn't even seem aware of her presence. His eyes glowed like wet stones in the darkness, and he stared listlessly past Mouse, at something rooted in the far corners of the Web.
"What are you talking about?" Mouse hissed. She didn't like the tone in Ethan's voice; it made her nervous.
Ethan snorted softly, his eyes still focused on an unseen being. "I'm not that innocent," he whispered, and a shiver ran through him. He blinked and shook his head, and his eyes refocused on her. They were cold, but not cruel; just devoid of life. "Daemon's coming here," Ethan said softly. "She's coming for you."
The icy hand of fear gripped Mouse's core-com in a vise-like hold. She took several deep, trembling breaths. She couldn't move; she felt as if she were rooted to the ground.
"I've been contacting Daemon all these seconds," Ethan confessed, chillingly calm; he seemed not to realize the importance of what he was saying. "She told me to bring you to her, but I — but I —" His features twisted hideously for a moment, and an invisible hand all but crumpled his throat as he gasped for breath. The green veins illuminated his sickly skin, their eerie light filling the room for an brief instant.
"I said no," Ethan growled, his voice rougher and filled with more emotion than the apathetic tone he had had before. "You bitch, stop controlling me. I am not going to lose the woman I love in order for you to —" He was cut off again, but regained his strength in one burst of power. "NO!" he screamed, the sound echoing off the walls of their tiny room. Ethan slumped back in the chair, panting for breath. His eyes were narrow slits, and his chest heaved with the energy it took to fight off Daemon.
He was always a fighter, Mouse thought fondly.
Concerned for his safety, she started across the room towards him. As she approached, the young Guardian suddenly leapt up. He tripped over the chair but quickly regained his footing and backed away from her, his hands held in front of him. "Don't go near me! You can't — you can't see me like this."
"Ethan? Ethan, what's going on?" Mouse demanded, worried and scared and confused by the situation she didn't understand.
His body was shaking — was he crying? "I'm sorry, Mouse. User, I am so sorry. But I couldn't fight her — she's too strong. . . ."
Mouse grabbed Ethan by the shoulders and shook him with enough force to rattle his brains. "What — is — happening?" she asked, stressing each word.
Ethan's lips trembled, but he took a quick breath and answered her, his words came as rapidly as hers had been slow. "Daemon's Guardians know we're here. They're coming here, and they're gonna capture you and infect you and —" His voice broke on a sob, but it was of his own doing. He crumpled into her arms, leaning his head on her shoulder. Mouse stared over his rumpled brown hair, realizing with shock how thin his body was as she rubbed his back comfortingly.
"User, no!" Ethan shrieked, standing upright again and shoving Mouse away. She stumbled back with the sudden force of his push and opened her mouth to speak.
Ethan pointed out the window behind Mouse. "There," he croaked. He was trembling as badly as if he had a fever virus.
Mouse turned and squinted into the darkness of 0200. The edges of system Chidis shimmered like a mirage. Just on the border, she could make out small blips of color, speedily making their way into the system. There was no doubt who was in the ships. Her mouth dropped open in shock. "Ethan, no," she whispered in disbelief.
Ethan had gained control of his shaking. His eyes were bloodshot, and the glowing veins seemed to clamp onto his temples. "Go, Mouse," he ordered hoarsely. "Go. Take your Ship and get out of here."
"But — but what will you do?" Mouse asked, stunned.
Ethan swallowed thickly. "I'll stay here and meet the Guardians when they come." He placed his hands on her shoulders, and Mouse flinched. "I'm so sorry, Mouse. I — I cared a lot about you. I still do. Daemon's just . . . so powerful, and I couldn't fight her enough."
Mouse left him then. Anger — How could he do this to her? No, it was Daemon — guilt — She couldn't save Ethan, no matter how hard she had tried — and pure fright — It would take a miracle to get her out of Chidis without being intercepted by the Guardians — were only three of the melee of emotions warring in her processor and her core-com.
Without even a goodbye to her good friend and old flame, she hurried down the twisted metal staircase to Ship, conveniently docked beside the hotel. Mouse glanced once at the hotel window and saw a lone, pale blue figure standing there. She quickly cast her eyes away before he looked at her, unable to look back into Ethan's eyes.
Against Dot's wishes, Enzo had heard everything. The little sprite had been walking by the War Room, coming in to visit Dot and Phong after school, when he overheard the panicked news and Dot's lightning-fast decision. He quickly ran around the corner as Dot and Phong passed by. They entered Dot's office and discussed the matter quietly, leaving the door open a crack. Enzo listened carefully to their conversation. Once he heard Dot mention the docking bay, he quietly rushed off.
There was a small cargo ship already set up. It was big enough to carry six passengers, but it was also small and swift.
Enzo ducked down to go into the hatch when he heard Tessa call his name. He stiffened and slowly raised his head, but he didn't turn around.
"I know where you're going," he heard her say in a soft voice. "You have to go to Azrael, to help as you can." She sniffled. "But I will miss you, Enzo."
"Tessa . . ." Enzo started. He turned around and stopped short, his jaw dropping before he was conscious of the movement. The girl who stood before him was a stranger, a sprite he had never seen before. Her skin sparkled gold, and her long, thick hair was maroon with streaks of dark teal. She approached him, and Enzo wondered whether to move back, but he was frozen in place. Finally, she stood before him, and he found himself staring into violet eyes — his eyes.
"T — Tessa?" Enzo stammered.
"Yes, it's me," she replied. Her voice carried the same inflection he had always heard when she spoke, and there was no doubt in Enzo's mind that it was she. But how?
Enzo tentatively reached out a hand and let his fingers sift through her hair. He touched her cheek, amazed at the pale golden color of her skin. "What happened?" he asked in a whisper.
Tessa's hand came up to cover his. "I am one of Daemon's Children, yes. I am only now realizing what it is I do as one of her Children."
"Tessa, you're not —" Enzo started to argue.
"I'm not under Daemon's control," Tessa finished, "but I did take this . . . gift, you could say, from her. I used to be dull and unoriginal, yes?"
A bald, gray-skinned girl was actually rather original, Enzo thought, but he nodded, listening intently.
"When I was a baby, you all held me or touched me. When you did, I absorbed some of your code. Then I grew an hour every second, until Mouse stopped me and kept me at this age. Once my age had been set, all the codes I had taken — yours and your friends' — it mixed together and gave me this appearance." Tessa sounded as wise as Phong until she shrugged and let a half-smile appear on her face, actually looking even more like the old sprite.
"How do you know all this?" Enzo asked. His head was beginning to ache with everything going on all at once. He willed his mind to receive Tessa's information while reminding himself that he had to get to Azrael to help Bob and Dot.
"It all just appeared in my head when I changed," Tessa replied. "Suddenly, I understood everything."
Enzo was shocked, and ashamed, too. Again he received the jolting realization that Tessa was older than he, and she sometimes seemed to have more knowledge.
The current situation presented itself in Enzo's mind again, and he knew it was more important. He sighed and held Tessa's hand tighter. "Tessa, I have to go now." His eyes begged her to understand. "Someone could be hurt, or —"
"I understand," Tessa answered, and she was telling the truth. She threw her arms around Enzo in a hug and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Come back to me," she whispered, and Enzo felt his core-com skip a beat or two.
He hugged her back, smelling in the sweet scent of her long hair. "I promise," he responded. Feeling his cheeks burn, he awkwardly disentangled himself from Tessa.
"Hurry, now," the little girl urged, and she disappeared in a shower of bright sparks. Enzo didn't waste another nano. He climbed into the cargo ship and hurried to the back. He found a space between boxes where he could squeeze, but first he stood up on his toes and peered out the window.
The sharp clicking of heels and whir of mechanics signaled Dot and Phong's approach. Enzo watched from his hiding place as Phong presented the ship to Dot.
"Perfect," Dot said briskly, giving the ship a quick once-over. "Thank you, Phong." The former Command.com helped Dot into the ship, clinging to her hand for several moments.
"My child, be careful," Phong cautioned. "Mainframe cannot afford to lose another leader."
"We're not going to lose anyone," Dot said, her voice fiercely strong and her eyes bright. She squeezed Phong's hand, then let go and settled down in the pilot's seat. The hull slid over the ship and closed with a click.
Enzo pressed himself between two boxes and hunched down. Hopefully, Dot wouldn't check the back of the ship.
Soon he could hear the engines' rumble as Dot powered up the ship. They lifted smoothly and began the ascension toward Mainframe's border. There was a slight bump as the ship opened onto the Web, but Dot took control of that, and they went on smoothly.
Enzo waited until they were flying steadily before he pushed himself up out of his hiding place. His elbow bumped a box, and it struck the floor, making Enzo jump. He waited, holding his breath, seeing if Dot had heard the noise and would come back.
Nothing happened for almost a millisecond, and Enzo relaxed.
Then a hand clamped over his mouth. Enzo jumped in fear and fought his captor, but the sprite held him hard.
"Shut up," a voice hissed in his ear that he recognized as Kode's. The sprite let him go. Enzo turned back to him and saw that the ocher-skinned sprite crouched behind him.
"What are you doing here?" Enzo whispered.
"Same as you — sneaking to Azrael to find out about the attack." Kode's gaze was fixed on the door leading to the front of the ship.
"I'm going to see Bob," Enzo answered defensively. "You don't have to be here. And anyway, what would Dot say if she saw you here?"
Kode grabbed the boy's arm, holding Enzo back. "Listen, kid," he hissed, his voice low and menacing, "you make a noise, and your sister will know you're here, too. So, shut up.
"Now, be a good little boy and stay right here," he sneered, pushing Enzo against a crate. He disappeared through another compartment.
Enzo hugged his arms around his knees and took a deep breath, his core-com thudding in his ears. He couldn't stop Kode now. The sprite would just have his way, it seemed. AndrAIa was right — that guy was a jerk who insinuated himself into any situation.
Fears began to creep into Enzo's mind. What if Bob had been hurt? Or AndrAIa, or even Matrix? Would they be all right? What good would a little sprite like him be to anyone?
Enzo buried his head in his knees and sat through the trip, accompanied only by his fears and silence.
Azrael's citizens watched fearfully from their homes as the magnificent Principle Office burned throughout the night. Firefighters and paramedics worked to bring out victims and place them in the ambulance. Most of the Azraelians had been in their homes that late at night, but any and all guards had entered the Principle Office, fighting off the Guardians. Now, the friends and family of the soldiers feared for the lives of those they loved and cursed the User for making them wait for such awful news.
The eastern point of the Principle Office had been demolished the most. While firefighters drenched the hungry flames with data, others rushed in and out, smoke filling their lungs, darting fire that reached out to find another victim.
Deep inside the east section, a group of CPUs had been almost completely buried under rubble. The firefighters worked to move away the huge chunks of plaster that covered the group. When they finally succeeded, the taste of triumph was sour in their mouths. Most of the binomes who had been crushed had already been deleted; only their icons, chipped and dull, remained.
A tall firefighter — a sprite rather than a binome — shoved aside debris to uncover AndrAIa's body. The Game sprite lay on her side, covered with dust and dirt. Gouges were slashed across her arms and stomach, and energy bled from a severe wound at the back of her head. She still gripped her trident in her right hand.
While his companions carried away the remaining binomes, the sprite gently lifted AndrAIa's body, taking care not to jostle her head. Shielding her with his jacket, he retraced his steps through the overheated chamber and carried AndrAIa outside to the ambulance. He laid her on a stretcher and transferred her to some medics. They set AndrAIa inside the ambulance with the other victims, including the meager number of CPUs that had been with her.
One paramedic closed the doors to the ambulance and slapped his hand against the side of the vehicle, calling, "We're good to go!" The ambulance drove toward the hospital, at the other side of the city, its red and blue lights flashing wildly.
Things didn't look good when Dot arrived in Azrael. From her height in the air, she could see houses and buildings with blast marks on their walls, and deep holes in the streets from explosions.
The star-shaped Principle Office had lost one of its pointed segments, and Dot could see the gold dots that must be CPUs rushing to another point and setting up investigations.
She wondered how things were on the ground. Dot knew the destruction and deletion would be worse close up.
She landed her ship easily. Once she had turned all the controls off, she jumped out and ran to the Principle Office. She passed bodies on the ground, a few moving but most stilled. There was also the occasional sight of one or more Guardians fighting against a stasis field, their weapons of no use. Dot forced herself to keep running towards the open doors of Azrael's P.O. Maybe there was someone left who could tell her what happened, or lead her to the others —
"Oh, Dot!" A weary, indigo-haired teenager ran toward her, waving while trying to load a gun. Dot stared in disbelief at the rumpled, dirty Countess. She almost didn't believe it was Avina until she saw the nearly transparent form of her bodyguard. "Your Grace —" she started.
The Countess reached her and blurted out, "Oh, Dot, there was an attack — we, we never thought, we never knew that they could get through —"
Dot grasped her shoulders. "Is everyone all right?"
"No!" The Countess backed away, shaking her head. "I'm sorry — your, your — Bob, Guardian Bob . . . he was shot."
"No," Dot gasped sharply, as if her breath had been jerked out of her throat. "Bob — no . . ." She swayed on her feet, and Avina dropped her gun and let the older woman lean on her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she heard Dot mutter the Guardian's name again.
Dot straightened up quickly. "Where is he?" she cried, her scared mind automatically assuming the worst.
"Come on," the Countess said grimly. She and Dot ran to the fourth sector, where medics were carrying bodies into an ambulance.
Dot cried out when she saw the prone form of Bob lying on a stretcher, a huge bandage covering his stomach. Her breathing started to increase with panic, and she ran to the ambulance without thinking.
"Ma'am, we can't have you —" the medic started.
"I'm Command.com of system Mainframe, and a close friend of Bob," Dot snapped. "Let me stay with him."
The medic swallowed and glanced uncertainly at her. Avina spoke up, "Do as she says, sir."
The binome's eyes widened at the order from the Countess, and he said, "Yes, Your Grace. Ma'am, get in here."
After they had loaded Bob, Dot sat beside him and clutched his hand. It made her stomach churn to feel his skin so cold. She rubbed his hand fervently, in an attempt to warm it.
For a full millisecond, the ambulance didn't move. Finally, Dot raised herself and scowled at the driver. "Why aren't we moving?" she asked sharply.
"The — the road is blocked, ma'am," he tried to reply, but Dot glared daggers at him.
"We have to get going," she said. "My friend could lose his life!"
CPUs worked to push debris aside. When the road was finally clear, the driver slammed down on the gas, and they sped for the hospital.
Dot studied Bob's face closely. He was breathing shallowly, and his skin looked paler. "I can't lose you now, Bob," she whispered, still clutching his hand.
They reached the hospital, and the medics rushed to the back to carry Bob out. Dot ran after them, but once inside, a guard stopped her. "Only professional doctors beyond this point, ma'am," he said.
"But —" Dot started, as she helplessly watched Bob be carried off.
"He'll be all right, Dot," Avina said. Somehow the Countess and her bodyguard had appeared beside her. "None of us can get any farther; besides, you should see the others."
Dot's core-com was fluttering, and she barely heard the younger woman's words. But she tore her eyes away from Bob and nodded shakily.
Avina took Dot by the arm and led her off. Dot swallowed a sob as the medics and Bob rounded a corner, and she couldn't see them anymore.
"I'm sorry, Dot," Avina whispered, and hugged her.
Dot pulled back and managed a grateful smile at the Countess. Suddenly, a new fear rose in her chest. "How is everybody else?" she asked.
The Countess frowned as she thought. "The three mercenaries are all right; they suffered some minor injuries, but nothing as serious as Bob. We haven't heard anything from Matrix since we all split up. AndrAIa was found unconscious over there." She pointed with her gun at the destroyed section of the Principle Office. "She's all right; she's in the hospital right now."
"And your people?" Dot asked.
Avina swallowed and looked back at her "shadow," who quietly replied something. She turned back to Dot and answered, "We lost a lot of sprites; mostly CPUs, our armed forces. I also lost two of my most trusted guards." She wiped her eye in a motion so subtle that Dot almost missed it, had she not been used to doing the same as commander in the war for Mainframe.
She put a hand on the Countess' shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Your Grace," she said.
The Countess looked up at her and tried to smile. "Please, no title," she begged. "Call me Avina — no, Avi."
"All right, Avi," Dot said with a small smile that she was afraid was quivering. "Again, I am so sorry. Daemon's troops came because Bob and Matrix were here. We forced this on you."
Avi shook her head. "No, you didn't. They were after me in the beginning. I guess we're all unlucky."
"I need to go," Dot said apologetically. "I'd like to check up on AndrAIa."
Avi nodded. "All right. We've got to still bring people to the hospital anyway. Ferias can show you the way." Her bodyguard looked ready to object, but Avi shot her a look, and Ferias relented to guide Dot around the hospital.
Ferias showed Dot to the emergency wing, then left without a sound. Dot could see that she clearly wanted to get back to her job of shadowing Avi, and she said nothing.
She went to the front desk and asked about her friends, but the secretary didn't understand.
"We don't have any names listed here," she explained. "They were all just brought in after the attack."
"Have you brought in a green-skinned sprite, big, with a gold eye?" Dot asked. The woman checked and shook her head. "Well, do you have a young woman with long blue hair and orange skin listed?" As the secretary looked, Dot added, "She has fins on her arms."
"Here we go," the secretary said, her finger resting on a piece of information. "She's on the third floor, in Room 108."
Dot thanked the secretary and went to the elevator. When she reached the second floor, she noticed some nurses milling about from room to room. Obviously, the hospital was understaffed for all the injured sprites and binomes from the attack.
She reached Room 108 and knocked on the door. In a nano, a voice answered, "Come in." The voice was familiar, but there was something wrong with it. It held twinges of other emotions; Dot thought she heard puzzlement.
She pushed open the door. AndrAIa sat on a hospital bed, with some bandages over a few cuts on her arms and stomach. A large white bandage was wrapped around her head and stained with energy. She looked over when Dot came in, but her eyes were clouded.
"AndrAIa!" Dot cried, running to the game sprite. She bent beside her and took her hands in hers. "How are you? What happened?"
It took AndrAIa several moments to focus on Dot. She said, "I don't know what happened." Dot figured she was still in shock from the head injury. She would have to find out how serious it had been.
AndrAIa blinked slowly and continued. "In fact, I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am. Who are you?"
Dot nearly dropped her hands in shock. No! "You're AndrAIa," she said, hoping it was just the trauma that made her forget. "This is system Azrael. Don't you remember? You came here with Bob and Matrix to protect the Countess! Don't you remember?"
AndrAIa frowned. "What are you talking about? I don't know anything of what you're talking about." Her gaze abruptly switched from confused to thoughtful. "The last thing I remember is coming out of my Game to be with a boy. . . ."
"Oh, User above," Dot whispered. This was the most horrible thing that could happen to them — and now, when Bob was barely hanging on to his life!
"Miss Matrix." One of Azrael's CPUs stood at the door. "Countess Avina wanted to tell you that Guardian Bob is going into surgery now."
"Thank you," Dot said shakily. With a nod, the CPU left.
She looked back to AndrAIa, who was listening with a confused look on her face. "I'm sorry, AndrAIa, but I need to go be with a friend. Can we talk in a little while?"
The game sprite nodded. "All right . . . what was your name?"
"Dot," she said, shaking AndrAIa's hand as if they were meeting for the first time. "Dot Matrix. Now get some rest." AndrAIa obediently lay down on the hospital bed and closed her eyes as Dot ran out the door.
She reached Avina, standing in front of a large window as Bob was being wheeled by on his stretcher. She turned around as Dot approached. "He's just about to go," she explained.
Dot looked to the unconscious form of Bob, now in a white hospital gown. His icon was absent from his chest; Dot realized without really thinking that they had taken it for the surgery. She shut her eyes, but not tight enough to stop tears from leaking out under her eyelids.
She opened her eyes and watched as if in slow motion, as Bob, unconscious, was rolled into the operating room, with doctors and medical assistants rushing past him and talking to one another over the clutter of activity.
Suddenly, the world around her speeded up again.
"Stay frosty, Bob," Dot whispered as he was wheeled into the OR. The doors shut behind him with an ominous thud.