CoP 13: Escape

ComicFan, AngelFish, Emma: as always, you three are my lifeline to this story. Enjoy. Thank you, also, to those who have added this story to their favorite list, I'm flattered!

Present Second – The Web

The transport shuddered as it was caught in a tractor beam. Bob's eyes snapped open, the dark memories burned away by the view of the Web re-enforced ship they approached. Every so often, a dark shape would fly past into the fiery storm clouds.

Then the cold, damaging realm was left behind as they were brought on board. Little time was wasted as Bob was escorted to a large room, simply decorated and furnished with a small table and plush, comfortable chairs. He turned to find himself alone, the door sealing silently behind the guards. His eyes scanned the room, his ears listening for any attack, but none came. As he walked, something reflected on the table, making Bob pause.

It was small, round and smooth. He stepped closer, his breath tightening in his chest as he recognized the disc. With surprisingly steady fingers, he reached down and retrieved the gold and black Guardian icon.

Phantom shouts of pain and fear filled his ears, distant explosions and weapon fire reverberated through his bones, and the searing pain of the escape drowned out the present as Bob gazed upon the icon.

Patch's icon…

Past – Villanova

"How about some wine, my pet?"

It was the perfect opportunity. Constantia had been stretched out beneath the sheets, her eyes closed in contentment. He poured her glass and pulled the small pouch from his pants pocket. Wrapped inside were two small pills, a gift he never saw fit to use until now. He slipped them in the drink and watched them quickly dissolve.

It didn't take long, especially in her relaxed state. With a sigh Constantia fell into the darkness of chemically induced sleep. Thank you, Patch. Bob waited only a few moments, staring at the sprite who turned him upside down. The DRAM was still singing loudly in his body, but was now more controlled with out her commands. He didn't know how long his Guardian code would keep it at bay, a thought that was greatly worrying him.

Wasting no more time, he quickly dressed. Taking stock of the room, he grabbed a small pouch from her dresser and emptied the transport keys inside. Along the wall was a row of different firearms. Bob shuddered when his eyes caught sight of the one used to delete Backup. His fist tightened, but he shook it away with a breath. He needed to focus. Grabbing another weapon, he checked the setting. Good.

Fastening the bag to his pants and gripping the gun firmly in his hand, he made his way for the door. Two guards were standing on the other side, their faces unreadable underneath their face shields. Bob's face was neutral as they both looked at him. He held up the gun. "Take me to the prisoner."

One guard nodded and began walking. The second made to go into the room. Bob stopped him with a hushed, "She doesn't want to be disturbed."

Bob stood calmly though his heart hammered, expecting the game to be up any nano. The guard resumed his stance outside the door, nodding at the other to continue. Bob turned, following him, quietly letting out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. So far, so good.

It was a brief walk to Blackadder's cell, but it required walking past Bob's old cell, with Patch still inside. The medic's voice rang out as he grabbed at the door, calling for him. He didn't bother to mask the anger or confusion in his voice as Bob ignored him.

Blackadder sat on his bed, staring up with contempt filled eyes. Bob held his gaze for a moment before he gestured for him to stand. Blackadder refused. Bob smiled.

"Pathetic," Blackadder hissed at him. "You're supposed to be stronger than this."

The guard grabbed the red sprite, forcing him to his knees in front of Bob, his head in line with Bob's weapon. "Last words, scum?" the guard asked.

"Drop dead."

Bob smiled again, then obliged. The guard dropped like a stone, his body shuddering as the stun blast shocked him into unconsciousness. Blackadder jerked away from the blast, his arms around his head and eyes wide. He glanced from the guard to Bob who reached a hand out to help him up.

"Well, that was easy."

Blackadder blinked several times. "Interface?"

Bob shook his head. "I'm really starting to hate that name." He barely finished his sentence when he was pulled into a bear hug by the captain.

"By the Net, I thought we lost you!" He pulled back sharply and looked Bob over critically. "How?"

Bob didn't answer, instead leaning down to pull off the guard's keys. "Get his uniform off. We don't have a lot of time to get out of here." He left Blackadder to change as he moved over to Patch's cell and unlocked it. "Are you all right?" he asked the older sprite as he stepped in.

Patch grasped his head and looked closely at him. "Yes, are you? Blackadder told me what happened."

"I'm ok, but my code isn't working fully. I'm still fighting off the DRAM." As if listening to his conversation, a wave of heat crackled through him, reminding him of the constant battle between the codes in his programming. "You still have my icon?" he grimaced.

Patch reached down to his belt to retrieve it, but Bob stopped him. "No, not yet." He shook his head at Patch's surprised glance. "I'm fine for now. I can move freely around here, and I'm not ready to give that up yet."

"You have a plan?"

Bob shook his head. "Not really my area of expertise," he quipped, his heart catching for just a moment. "But we are getting the Dell out of here right now."

"We can make our way the same as before," Blackadder chimed in, the guard's clothes bundled in his arms. "They wouldn't expect us to do the same thing twice."

"But the shield-" Patch began.

"Doesn't exist." Bob explained Constantia's deception, his words softening as he described what happened to Commodore. The tensing of Patch's body didn't go unnoticed.

"Then we break the crew out, get the transport, and go," Blackadder said.

"No." Both Bob and the captain turned to the medic. "Not just the crew. We get everyone out of here." Patch looked at Bob, his face set. "Do you understand?"

Bob frowned.

"We need all of the transport keys."

It took another nano for Bob's face to light up. He nodded as he ran his hand over the pouch. "And we need an escort."

/

It went like clockwork. Patch, donned in the guard's uniform, escorted Bob and Blackadder the prisoner back to Constantia's room. Knocking out the second guard, Patch took his place watching Constantia's chambers as Bob and Blackadder made their way to the control room. Once again using the guise of being under the DRAM, Bob made quick work of the unsuspecting guards in the room. He went to the control panel.

"Bob," Blackadder said from the doorway, the pouch of transport keys now in his possession. "Ready when you are."

"Meet you outside," Bob nodded in return. Then he pressed the panel.

Klaxons went off, Bob quickly moving to silence them, and he took a moment to watch the screens. On every level, all of the cell doors opened at once.

The guards patrolling the levels didn't have a chance.

Bob avoided everyone on his way out to the transport docks. It took him only a few moments to get from the control room, but already Blackadder was putting his men in charge of various transports, heralding whatever sprites they could into the shuttles. The few guards who tried to attack were quickly taken down, save those on the roof at the weapons platforms. Inmates were already making their way up the walls of the prison to take them out.

Then the explosions started. Small projectile bombs were launched from barricades across the compound, landing on the docks and sending sprites flying. One landed near a Web Sprite who was supporting an injured companion. Bob launched himself at the two, pushing them behind an outcropping of the prison as the bomb exploded, sending rock and dust into the air.

Not waiting for gratitude, the Guardian was on his feet again, running towards where he had last seen Blackadder. It was getting hard to determine where he was, now. The air was filled with smoke and his ears rang with explosions, screams, and gun fire. Then the sky lit up and he watched as the Web opened above. Over the clouds, he could see the first transport making its way into the swirling portal.

The clatter of a projectile landing a few meters from him sent Bob sprinting in the other direction. He wasn't fast enough. Bob caught the tail end of the blast, his body lifted up and over in the air. With jarring force, he slammed against a transport and then he was sliding down into that open space between the transport and the pier. He barely had time to scream as he began his descent into oblivion in the emptiness below the prison.

He jerked to a halt, his eyes fixed as he stared at his imminent deletion, a bead of sweat rolling from his chin into the nothingness. Then he registered the crushing grip on his ankle, and he looked up. A WebSprite stared at him then hauled him back up onto the pier. He was the same one he'd helped earlier.

"Thank you," Bob coughed in WebSpeak.

Before the sprite could reply, Blackadder was dragging him to his feet. "Let's go, Guardian!" he yelled, pushing him towards a transport.

"Where's Patch?"

"Haven't seen him."

Bob ground his feet into the pier, halting them both. "I need to find him."

"No time, everyone's jumping before the Web Creatures arrive!"

Bob shook his head, his hand touching the DRAM. "I need my icon!"

"I'm sure he's on a transport already."

"I have to make sure," Bob argued. "If I lose him..." …then I'm lost.

Blackadder stared at him, his mouth tightening. "You've got five nanos, then we're jumping, with or without you!"

Bob turned and sprinted like his life depended on it. Had he waited a nano longer, he would have seen Patch running from the prison.

/

He wasn't outside her door, but he didn't expect him to be. He quickly looked around the hall, spotting several guards unconscious, but none were Patch. Armed with his small gun, he quietly opened the door to the Warden's room. Nothing inside looked out of place and his gaze locked onto the bed. The sheets were rumpled… and empty.

Two hands grabbed his shirt and he was roughly pulled inside the room, his body pinned against the wall. A guard, helmet gone and head bleeding, glared at him. Bob reacted, placing his arms up in a posture of surrender.

"Where is she?" he asked frantically, allowing his voice to sound as panicked as he felt. "Is she ok?"

The guard continued to glare until he spotted the DRAM disc. Slowly he released him. "Where have you been?"

"I-"

"Go get that portal closed now!" Constantia walked into the room, her body covered in a think black body suit made of some sort of armor, one firearm at her side, another around her ankle, and murder in her eyes. The guard quickly departed and she took one look at Bob.

His body began to spasm as the DRAM came alive when her eyes locked on his. For a moment, everything tilted out of control and then went black. The world came back with a sharp crack of pain, her hand breaking hard across his face. "Where did you go?" she hissed.

"I went to delete that prisoner, as you asked," Bob answered quickly, from his own control or the DRAM's he wasn't sure. "I returned when everyone was let out, I didn't know what else to do!"

Her hand snaked into his hair, pulling it roughly and forcing his eyes to hers. "I never ordered you to do that."

"I thought it would please you," Bob gasped against the pain and the fear the DRAM pushed through him at angering his master. His Guardian code struggled to put him back in balance, a battle he knew he was losing.

She pressed her face close, her eyes penetrating into his. "You thought," she murmured. "I didn't order you to think, either."

Her fist drove into his stomach and the breath left him, his body doubling over from the surprising force of the blow. His eyes lifted to see her arm come down, the butt of her firearm cracking across his face. He collapsed with a cry.

"It shouldn't be possible. You really are strong," she praised bitterly, "and now you are finished." She placed her foot on his chest, holding him down as she aimed her gun.

The weapon fired, the bullet embedding itself into the floor next to Bob's head as Constantia was tackled to the floor. He scrambled up to his elbows, catching his breath and choking down the moan as the DRAM continued to pull him toward the Warden. She was wrestling with the larger sprite until he pulled his arm back and clocked her across the chin. Her head smashed down into the floor, a loud moan bleeding from her into the floor.

The sprite turned and shouted for him to get out. Bob shook his head as he finally comprehended it was Patch holding her down, his body now covered in the familiar blue, gold, and black colors of a Guardian uniform. Bob couldn't help but smirk that his friend had lied about giving up his code… at least completely.

"Stop grinning like an idiot and get out of here!"

Constantia moaned again, a near sob working its way from her throat, and Bob's eyes caught hers. He flinched as the DRAM suddenly took hold when she heard her whispered plea, "Help me." He fought for control, gained it a moment later, but it was too late. She had seen it, and she knew he wasn't completely free.

"Interface, help me!" Patch covered her mouth, but not before she cried out, "Kill him!"

The desperation in her voice clenched Bob's gut, and suddenly his vision was filled with Patch's wide eyed stare at the end of Bob's barrel. "Patch," he heard himself say, "help… help!"

"Take it easy," Patch commanded. He lost his concentration on the Warden, one arm carefully rising in a gesture of comfort toward Bob.

Constantia broke free from the medic's hold on her face and she screamed, "Shoot him, Interface! Kill him!"

"Stay calm!"

"Patch!"

"Shoot him!"

"No… Patch, run!"

"Take back control!"

"Shoot him!"

"Patch!"

"Shoot him!"

BANG!

Patch was knocked back, crashing to the floor with a sharp cry that mingled with the Warden's. Both twitched and then lay still.

Bob sat panting, his heart hammering in his chest. No, no, no! "Patch!" He clamored forward, the gun forgotten at his side, his hands searching out to stop the blood flowing from the wound. His eyes couldn't see it. In his panic, he couldn't find the wound!

"You dipswitch."

Bob started and stared at the grimacing face beneath him. "Patch?"

"You forgot you had it set to stun, didn't you?"

Bob's breath stilled, his hand pausing in their pursuit of the wound. He couldn't find the wound… because there wasn't one. A harsh laugh left him, his head falling onto Patch's chest as the adrenaline left him. "Don't do that to me."

"Hey, you shot me," Patch groaned. "That thing packs a wallop." He moved to sit up and Bob helped him. "I've missed this suit."

"It looks good on you," Bob quipped, relieved the stun blast was mostly absorbed by the Guardian armor. He glanced at the unconscious Warden, who also took some of the blast. A surge of hatred filled him. He fingered the DRAM disc and desperately wanted his uniform back.

"Patch, I'd like my icon back now, before I do anything else dangerous." The gold and black pattern was a sight for sore eyes for Bob. The cool metal felt comforting against his fingers. With a quick flick of his wrist, the icon was back in its place of honor, and two taps later he was once again adorned in his uniform.

A sharp gasp left him, followed by a deep groan as his world went white then black, muted then loud, balanced then spinning. His body raged with the worst fever he'd ever had and then everything went back to normal. A tiny clatter drew his eyes to the floor, the black disc spinning twice before rolling onto its front and lying still.

Bob took a breath and finally felt like himself again. Only a slight ache could be detected in his muscles, an anomaly he found strange. All other program corruptions he had encountered, such as the Medusa bug, never left him with any sense of pain or discomfort… but that would be something he could figure out later. His Guardian code was back in tact, and he was no longer under Constantia's control.

He took one look at her and shook his head. "Let's go," he said, brushing himself off as he stood. He paused. "My uniform is fixed." All previous tears and tatters were mended, his uniform whole once more.

"You think I only fix sprites?"

Bob smiled as he helped Patch to his feet. "Why am I not surprised?" He walked out the door, ready to make the sprint back to the transport before Blackadder left them. It took him a moment to realize Patch wasn't with him. He turned back and froze.

Patch had Constantia's sidearm and was pointing it at her face.

"Patch, don't."

The medic looked up at him in surprise. "After everything she's done, you want her to live?"

"Deletion doesn't solve anything. She's beaten. Let it go."

Patch stared at him. "You're serious."

"Yes."

Patch took a deep breath, his finger twitching on the trigger. "You're a better sprite than I could ever be." He tucked the gun into his belt and rolled his eyes, his vision coming to rest on a nearby table.

"Patch?"

"Wait." He grabbed the small item from the table and knelt beside her. "A parting gift."

He pressed the item onto her collarbone and tapped it twice. A purple beam encased her body and a stream of data shot through her. Instantly she came awake, her body bowing up from the floor as the manual syntax error disrupted her processor, jarring her into a world of pain and fragmentation. A sharp scream left her and she collapsed back to the floor, gasping.

Patch leaned down, glaring into her green eyes. "Blackadder says goodbye." He stood and walked through the doorway, Bob's hand preventing him from moving further down the hall.

"It will kill her!"

Patch pulled Bob's hand from his chest. "No it won't, she'll repair it before it gets that far. But we'll be gone by then, so let's move."

Bob realized he was right. He nodded. "Nice touch." He flinched as he was splattered in the face. He wiped the liquid from his eyes and wiped his hands on his uniform, barely noticing the dark stain it left. Until he looked again.

He stared at his uniform, uncomprehending the thick blue substance dripping down his face, the trails warm against his skin, the air suddenly tangy with a scent odd and familiar all at once. His hands were blue, his uniform splattered with dark spots all the way up his chest, and Patch's shock mirrored his own when he looked up.

The medic's hands hovered over the gaping hole in his chest, blood seeping down into his uniform, pooling at his feet. He flickered and collapsed.

"Patch!" Bob caught him, his quick eyes locking briefly onto the departing back of the Warden as she crawled away in her room, the gun from her ankle holster still clutched in her trembling hand.

"Go." Patch coughed, using the last of his strength to push Bob away, struggling to stand on his own. "Go before they leave you."

"No." He moved to grab Patch again, but the medic resisted.

"You need to go before… she heals herself."

"I'm not leaving you to die here."

Patch smiled through bloody teeth. "Sorry, my friend, but you don't control me… anymore than she did you. I'll give you the time you need. Now, go!"

Bob didn't budge. He knew Patch was dying, that he would slow them both down back to the transport… but he was his friend, he couldn't leave him, not if there was a chance he could save him.

The older sprite smiled knowingly, his ability to read others still crystal clear on the brink of the death. "You've already saved me," Patch whispered. "Thank you for bringing me home." He breathed heavily but managed a smile. "Go."

Bob hesitated a moment longer before nodding. He turned and ran, pushing from his mind the image of Patch stumbling back into the Warden's chambers, feeling for the first time an absolute lack of care if she survived.

The prison was nearly empty save for bodies scattered everywhere, some fragmenting away as he ran past. His heart cringed as he saw some inmates still breathing, though not for much longer, but knew he could do nothing for them now. He needed to get home.

He burst out into the smoky air of the docks, the explosions nearly silenced by the lack of guards available to resist. Sprinting towards the platforms, he could make out two remaining ships. On one he could see Blackadder waving at him, screaming to hurry up. On the other, he could see four guards fighting with two Web Sprites. He sprinted towards the second vessel, attempting to climb up the side. His hands, still wet with Patch's blood, couldn't find purchase. He noticed a fallen guard next to him and grabbed his gloves, quickly donning them and jumping once again on to the side, clambering up onto the top just as it began to pull away.

With his help, the Web Sprites were able to overcome the remaining guards, knocking three of them off with ease. The fourth was lying flat on his back, one of the sprites leaning over him and pulling off his helmet. The sprite lifted him with one arm and tossed him over the side without a second glance, then walked over to Bob.

It took a moment to realize it was the same WebSprite from earlier. The degraded sprite gave Bob the helmet. "To protect you from the atmosphere."

Bob smiled. "I'd rather be inside when we go through," he laughed, but he put it on anyway. "Thank you… again."

"I think we are more than even." The sprite and his companion moved up to a hatch and began to open it, Bob pausing to look back at the burning fires surrounding the prison. Too many emotions filled him and he broke his gaze, refusing to let himself be overcome now. He took comfort in seeing Blackadder's transport just behind them then turned back to the hatch.

The weight fell on him from behind, smashing his chin into the roof with numbing force. Distantly Bob realized his lip was split on his teeth and then he was struggling with the body on top of him, choking the life out of him. The transport banked as it headed for the Web portal, throwing off the assailant's balance. Both were suddenly tumbling down the side of the roof, the transport righting itself just before both went over. Bob brought his arms up as the guard attacked him, his uncovered face twisted in rage.

Distantly, Bob could see the portal coming closer and knew he needed to act or they'd both be pulled away into the tumultuous atmosphere. He brought a knee up into the guard's stomach and landed a solid right hook across his chin. The guard teetered back, his hand reaching out for anything to prevent his fall. Bob looked back, saw the open hatch right behind him; saw a WebSprite reaching out for him.

The guard's hand grasped Bob's helmet.

Then they were entering the portal.

The force of the atmosphere whipped the guard from Bob's body with a piercing roar, and suddenly the helmet was gone with him. The icy atmosphere hit him like a punch to the face and he gasped involuntarily, and then everything burned. His hands immediately clasped his face, desperately trying to protect it. He felt himself lifted away and knew he lost.

He slammed into the floor; his body feeling like every bone was broken in one blow. The roar died but his ears rang, his body was hot but his face chilled like ice, and then hands were lifting him up and laying him out on something elevated. His couldn't see because his lids were frozen shut and he couldn't breathe steadily around the racking coughs that forced his body off the table.

Mercifully, he tumbled away into darkness.

When he woke, he was wrapped in a thin sheet on a small cot. As he shifted, he noticed it felt cool against his hot skin, almost soothing. His eyes opened and looked around the room. It wasn't familiar to him. He sat up carefully, his head pounding with the movement. After a moment, he was well enough to move again. He took immediate notice of his missing clothes, his eyes widening as he couldn't see his icon on his chest. He tried to remember…

The Web.

The guard.

The helmet.

The atmosphere.

The pain.

The darkness.

Bob took a deep breath. He could see, so his eyes weren't damaged. He could breathe, so his lungs were ok. He could move his arms and legs, so nothing broken. How… who…

A door opened to the side, and Bob spotted it for the first time as a WebSprite came in. Not to his surprise, it was the sprite from the pier. No longer distressed by the deformed appearances, Bob barely reacted as the sprite approached his bed. "Welcome back, Guardian Bob. My name is Phish. How are you?"

Bob nodded. "Fine, I think. My icon?"

The sprite gestured to a small table. The black and gold disc lay next to a glass of water and a mirror.

"Thank you." Bob grabbed the glass and took a sip, the coolness feeling good against his parched throat. "We made it, I guess?"

"Yes, unharmed." The sprite shifted, seeming uncomfortable. "For the most part."

Bob looked at him. "What do you mean?"

The sprite took a breath. He seemed ready to speak, choosing instead to point at the mirror.

Bob frowned, his gaze shifting between the reflective glass and the sprite. Seeing the sprite was not going to say anymore, he picked up the mirror.

Bob flinched as he looked at the web of scars on his face, trailing down his neck, disappearing under his blackened hair. A trembling hand entered the mirror, his fingers gently touching the damaged strands as if they might burn him.

"We did everything we could."

Bob nodded numbly, his response in basic automatic. "I believe you." His eyes widened in the glass as his hand went to his throat. His mouth worked but no sound came out… until he forced himself to speak again. "My voice…" The tone was wrong, the pitch lower than before, softer and grave. He suddenly seemed tired, and much older.

"The atmosphere damaged your vocal chords," Phish explained, guessing at what the Guardian was upset about. "Luckily it didn't do anything more than leave a slight burn on your lungs, and we had something for that.

"Thank you," Bob whispered, distraught by how broken he sounded. He looked up at the sprite, and remembering his company, switched to WebSpeak.

The sprite nodded then gestured at the icon. "Your uniform has also been degraded, but we uploaded a data file that will protect it from the Web. Your gloves were molded to the uniform, so you will only need a face shield. One is being made for you now."

"Again, thank you," Bob answered softly. He put the mirror back, the glass now face down, and stared at the floor. He was alive; he needed to focus on that. He took a breath, pushing away the pain of his new scars. So many scars, inside and out… "Where are the others? Blackadder and his crew?"

"Captain Blackadder is gathering his crew and returning to his home in the Web. He asked us to make sure you got home."

Bob's eyes shot up. "He just left?" Bob was surprised… and surprisingly hurt.

"You have been unconscious for several seconds. He wanted to stay, but members of his crew were still missing…"

Bob waved the sprite silent. "I understand." And he did. At least he kept his promise. He took a breath, secured his icon to his chest, and booted into his warped uniform. It felt heavier, but at least it felt familiar. Carefully he stood, his feet managing to hold him remarkably steady after several days of no use.

"So," he asked casually, "how do I get home?"

/

"Welcome to the WebRiders. Our home is yours now, for as long as you are with us…"

"Stand down. These are my friends…"

"Oh, Bob, we've found you…"

"Don't worry. She's a Matrix. You survived, I'm sure she'll have found a way to do the same…"

"…I promise."

"By the Net, Dot, I love you!"

"Forgive me…"

The present came back to her with such force she found herself face first on the floor. She crawled unsteadily to her knees, opened her eyes, and lurched for the wastebasket. She was violently ill, the rush of the memories, the emotions, the trauma Bob experienced too strong and too recent in her mind for her body to handle. Finally her stomach had nothing left to give, and her body collapsed on the floor, shaking and exhausted.

Dot didn't move for several nanos. She spent her time focusing on drawing breath, sweet, life-supporting air. When she felt well enough to open her eyes, she stared at the familiar space of her office, listened to the quiet hum of the equipment, and focused. Her thoughts were ragged, running at maximum speed, but she needed to quiet those. She sat up carefully, cradling her head in her hand. She needed to calm herself. There was too much for her to process just then-

-he slept with her-

-and she heaved again into the wastebasket.

"Stop it," she chastised herself when her body calmed once more. "Be weak later." She ran her hand across her lips, cursing its unsteady movement. She pulled herself into her chair and breathed deep. Inside, she wanted to break down and cry, cry for Bob and for herself and for the sudden mistrust she couldn't deny…

That was unfair, it wasn't his fault…

It really wasn't…

And she was a flesh and blood sprite, not a binary code. Logic just didn't apply…

A sob worked its way up in her throat, and she slammed her fist down on her desk. It eased away and she took another deep breath before she pulled up a VidWindow. Mouse popped into life before her.

"Dot! Are you all right, Sugar? You look terrible!"

"Thanks, Mouse," she commented dryly, clearing her throat to smooth away the roughness. "I'm fine. What's happening?"

Mouse frowned at her for a moment, unsure whether to answer or start her own line of questioning. She chose the former. "AndrAIa and Matrix are ready to leave, Phong has the communicators set up, Mainframe is ready for any and every attack, by Net or by Web, and Bob…"

Dot kept her face neutral. "What is it, Mouse?"

"Bob went into the Web, to her ship."

Dot took a steadying breath. "How are we supporting him?"

"He didn't want any."

"Dipswitch." Dot ran a hand down her face. "All right, send Matrix and AndrAIa, let them get started on assisting other systems. I'll start getting some strategies going here to support Bob. Keep the troops at the ready, we might be drawing some heat into the system."

"Dot, are you sure-"

The Commander left no room for argument. "I'm sure." She caught Mouse's eyes and held them. "And I'm fine. Let's get busy." She watched Mouse nod once before the VidWindow closed.

This I can handle, she reassured herself as she moved over to a small panel and began reviewing battle capabilities against Web technology. She'd only gone a few files in when she heard the door open behind her. Despite her best effort, she couldn't stop the smile as Mouse stepped into the room.

"I told you I was fine," she said, exasperated. "Really, Mouse." She turned to the hacker.

A hand clasped over her mouth. "Wrong hacker," was hissed in her ear.

Dot struggled as the tall man pulled her back out of the office. "The Warden wants to speak with you. Now."