Colin looked at the couple on the jump seats across from him. He'd seen the video of the Dewdrop soldier against an unprepared group of enemies, and that had been fine, but it hadn't seemed real. The young woman catching a nap while leaning up against her boyfriend...she looked harmless. And yet, not two hours ago, he'd seen the aftermath of eight soldiers trying to capture her. She'd taken out six of them, while still injured - she'd taken a rifle bullet to the shoulder just two days ago, a wound that would have taken most soldiers out for weeks.

The young man with her...well, he wasn't bad to look at, even if he wasn't quite Colin's type. Tall and skinny, with a long, pointy nose and bright red hair. Even if Colin were interested, it was obvious that he adored the young woman, and vice versa.

The platoon had ridden their Jackal MWMIKs back to the airfield, where they'd all been loaded back on board the Canadian Forces cargo plane that had taken them there. Fortunately, at the far end there was an airstrip right at CFB Suffield, so they wouldn't have to worry about getting from the plane to their destination.

The young woman's eyes blinked open, and she stretched. She looked around, her eyes settling on Colin. Captain Desjardins was asleep next to him, so there wasn't anyone else around to talk to.

"I know I said it earlier, but thanks for getting us out of there," she said softly, so as not to wake the red-haired young man. "What's a warrant officer in NATO ranks? I used to be a staff sergeant, an OR-6. Back before I was captured."

"Warrant officer is OR-7."

She nodded in understanding. "Okay. So, that'd be a Sergeant First Class in America. Thank you."

"What..." Colin paused, then said, "Sorry if this is too personal, but I'm curious. What's it like? Being able to do...what you do?"

She looked at him for a long moment, and he was about to apologize for being too forward when she said, "It depends on which implant is going active. The reaction-speed one, it's like the world slows down, like somebody filmed everything in slow motion. The lung implants, it's like, 'Wow, that's breathing, I could get to like that.' The hearing one, it's like everything makes a noise and the hard part is pinning any single thing down. Put them all together...and it's like the whole world changes."

"Do you ever regret it?"

"I didn't have a choice, so no. If I'd picked this, I might. But not for the implants themselves. For what the army made me do because of them."

He nodded. "Canada hasn't been at war for a while. I'd wager we have a lot of people who aren't sure what they'll do when things hit the fan."

"That's the thing that scares me most about this. If America declares war, who can really stop them? Figure that the army they have now has the survivors of eighteen years of continuous war."

"I know. But it's different when it's your home. Going in and taking over somebody else's is a different fight from reunifying your country."

She sighed. "I guess, but, really...it didn't feel like one country when I was growing up. I don't remember the old United States."

"How'd you two meet?" Colin asked, nodding toward Phineas.

"He bought me after I got captured."

Colin stiffened, glaring at Phineas. So. Slave-owner. She seems to like him, though. Stockholm syndrome? She fell in love with her captor?

"Nothing like that," Isabella said, spotting his reaction. "He was..." She paused for a moment. "He invented the tumbler bomb, and had just seen real casualties from it for the first time. So he was feeling guilty for a whole lot of deaths. And a little drunk. And he wandered into the auction house, and he swears he doesn't remember bidding, but he ended up buying me."

"And made use of his 'property'?" Colin said dubiously.

"Never. It took me months to convince him that I was interested. He never laid a finger on me that I didn't want."

Colin looked at her in surprise. "Never?"

"Not even once. Perfect gentleman."

"Huh."

"How about yourself?" she asked. "Park - a Korean name?"

"Yeah. Third generation. Garcia-Shapiro is Mexican and Jewish, yes?"

"Yeah. My father was Jewish - he died when I was just a toddler. We were visiting my mother's family in Santa Fe when the bomb went off, and I was the only one who survived. I grew up in an orphanage, and then got drafted, and here we are. How'd you end up in this line of work?"

Colin shrugged. "I grew up in a rough part of Vancouver, without a lot of money. Got into lots of fights in the streets. Lost a few, won more. There were always rumors that American troops were going to jump the border and take it over, to make up for losing Los Angeles. I..." He paused, thinking of his sisters and brothers-in-law and nieces and nephews. "I wanted to make sure my family stayed safe. After I got in, I realized I'd found my place. A few slots opened up in the Special Operations Regiment after a year or so, and I applied. They decided I was good enough to try out, and apparently I've been good enough to stay."

"OF-7's nothing to sneeze at, especially in CSOR," Isabella said encouragingly. "Anyone waiting for you back at base?"

"Nah. There's been a few guys every now and then, but nothing's worked out."

Vanessa Doofenshmirtz paced the floor of her office and stared at the clock. Five minutes until the head of this new Project Obelisk shows up, and my top scientist isn't here yet. Where the hell is he? Her intercom buzzed, and Preston's voice came out. "Sorry, Ms. Doofenshmirtz, but Dr. T says it'll be a few more minutes until his experiment finishes. He'll be up here as soon as he can."

She cursed fluently in French and English before pushing the intercom button again. "Thanks, Preston. Keep me posted. ETA on the VIP?"

"Just got an update. His car just pulled up out front. Want me to hold him?"

She sighed and mentally cursed her top scientist, again. "No, just send him in."

"Will do."

She crashed into her chair, spinning around to look at the Toronto skyline and taking deep breaths to calm herself. Doofenshmirtz Biosciences had been chosen to work with Defense Research and Development Canada on some new super-secret project. Jean Blanchard, DRDC Director of Advanced Research, had called her in person to request this, and sent some new DRDC hotshot who'd just defected from America. Allegedly, this morning's dust-up in Fort Frances was related, which made her wonder just what the heck was going on.

So this ex-pat DRDC researcher is about to show up, and my top scientist is puttering around in his lab. This is the last thing I need.

Vanessa had left the US after her father's death, moving up to Toronto with her mother. Her mother had taken the opportunity to place her within the financial company she ran, and Vanessa had found a niche. A couple under-appreciated but brilliant scientists, and she'd turned a minor bioscience research firm into an industry powerhouse with steady contracts in both civilian and military fields. It was nominally a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Doofenshmirtz Financial conglomerate, but her mother let her run it without interference. After all, it made money, and beyond that, Mom didn't much care. Vanessa had dealt with her father for years; managing scientists was second nature for her at this point.

The intercom buzzed again. "The VIP just hit the top floor. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Vanessa said, and straightened her shoulders. She was in charge of Doofenshmirtz Biosciences, and she had to make sure anyone who came in here knew it.

The door opened, and Preston escorted a tall young man with bright green hair in. He was dressed impeccably in a sharp grey suit, with a cream-coloured shirt and violet tie. Vanessa recognized him on sight, even though she hadn't seen him since her father's funeral.

"Ms. Doofenshmirtz, this is..." Preston began.

"We've met," Vanessa interrupted him. "Ferb? What are you doing here?"

He smiled at her as Preston bowed out, closing the door behind him. "I come bearing some of the hottest biomedical research in the world, actually," Ferb said.

"Sit, sit," Vanessa said, waving him to a chair. "My top researcher's running late, as usual. I heard about your father. Did you find who did it?"

Ferb paused, a bit uncomfortably, and said, "Yes."

"How did you end up here? I would have figured that General Archer wouldn't let you out of his sight."

"We didn't give them a choice. We defected. Phineas is on his way out to CFB Suffield now - that's where we're setting up. The little fracas in Fort Frances was the Americans trying to grab him and Isabella again."

"Who's Isabella?" Vanessa asked.

Ferb smiled thinly. "The reason we left."

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a story."

The intercom buzzed. "Doc T. just came out of the elevator," Preston said.

Vanessa felt herself relax. "Thanks, Preston."

"Doc T.?" Ferb asked.

The door opened, and she looked up. Her top researcher, the youngest Ph.D in Canadian history, was finally arriving to the meeting she'd wanted to pre-brief him about. He was tall and gangly, with black curly hair cut short against his dark skin. A pristine white lab coat swished about his knees as he walked. "It's about time," she said. "This is Ferb Fletcher, of Fletcher-Flynn Research. Ferb, this is Baljeet Tjinder, my leading research scientist."

"Doctor Baljeet Tjinder, thank you," Baljeet said huffily, shaking Ferb's hand and then taking a seat next to him. "What is so urgent that you need my attention? I have epithelial cell cultures that I must return to."

"Remember that Project Obelisk thing that we were told about?" Vanessa said. "This is it."

"Yes," Ferb said, turning on his tablet. "Project Obelisk is about recreating and enhancing Project Dewdrop, a Southwestern Concord bio-research project. Effectively, what Dewdrop was able to do was provide biomechanical enhancements that created...well, bluntly, a super-soldier."

Baljeet rolled his eyes. "Seriously? I know that various American governments tried to create super-soldiers, but to the best of my knowledge they all failed."

"Not all," Ferb said. "I've seen the last remaining Dewdrop soldier in action." He held up the tablet. "Observe."

Vanessa sat back and watched the screen as Ferb turned it so that both she and Baljeet could view it. "This one was known as India One. She was killed by a tumbler bomb," Ferb said.

Vanessa sat back and watched the video impassively. A young woman ran on screen and jumped up, out of sight. Four soldiers came in following her. "US Navy SEALs," Ferb said, and Vanessa nodded. The woman leapt down and, almost blurring from speed, killed the SEALs with their own weapons.

"Are we certain that is not special effects?" Baljeet asked dismissively. "It looks questionable."

"Ferb wouldn't lie about this," Vanessa said.

Ferb smiled at her. "I've seen a Dewdrop soldier in action. She ran a hundred yards in ten seconds, carrying someone, despite getting shot in the process."

"The world record pace is nine and a half seconds. Are you sure you saw what you think you saw?" Baljeet said, crossing his arms.

"Very. I also watched the live video of another being captured. The speed was comparable. I don't have that video with me, but I can make it available to you."

Vanessa nodded. "Okay. So what does DRDC want from us?"

"Two things," Ferb said. "First, another researcher or two to help Phineas and Isabella reproduce the implants. And, second, once we get them designed, we'll need somebody to actually do the manufacturing."

"Who is this Isabella person you keep mentioning?" Vanessa asked. "Phineas's girlfriend or something?"

Ferb laughed. "Yes. And also, the last Dewdrop soldier."

Vanessa paused. "Oh. I...see. So, what's in this for Doofenshmirtz Biosciences?"

"The intent is to ramp these up for general military use, and work on them for civilian use as well, as soon as they can be declassified. You'd get exclusive patent rights for both, with the civilian rights going into effect at declassification."

Her eyebrows went up. "Oh. That's..."

Ferb smiled widely. "A nice bump in Doofenshmirtz Financial's bottom line."

"I think so, yes." She turned to Baljeet. "So, Doctor Tjinder...are you interested?"

He frowned. "I would like a closer look at your data before I decide. Where is this research being carried out?"

"DRDC Suffield." Ferb handed him a thumb drive. "The contents of that drive are Obelisk-classified."

"Understood," Baljeet said. "May I go look it over before I agree to be sent to Siberia just as winter starts?"

"Hey, it's not like it's Cold Lake," Vanessa said. "It could be worse."

"Yes, southern Alberta is such an improvement over northern Alberta. It might actually make it above freezing on a warm day," Baljeet said witheringly. He stood. "Thank you, Mr. Fletcher. I shall take a look at this and get back to you within the hour." He bowed his head and walked back to the doors, opening one and passing through.

Vanessa rolled his eyes. "Sorry he's such an ass. But he's the best. If anyone on my staff would be able to help you, it's him."

"It'll be fine. So how have you been?" Ferb asked.

She shrugged. "Comme ci, comme ça. Mom's happy with what I've been able to do, although I think she's waiting for me to decide that I'm done playing with my little toy. She'd like me to move up to the parent company, but I'm happy here. You? You said you'd found the person who killed your father. What happened?"

"It was..." Ferb paused, awkwardly. "A question for you. Who would you consider to blame - the person who gave the order, or the person who carried it out?"

Vanessa looked at him for a moment. "Both, actually."

"What if the person carrying it out were told - credibly - that they'd be executed on the spot for failure?"

"That would shift blame to the person giving the order, I think."

"That was my opinion as well. He is dead, killed by a tumbler bomb. I have had my revenge there."

"And the person who carried it out? What happened to them?"

Ferb paused again. "She..." He took a deep breath. "It was Isabella, actually."

Vanessa stared at him, blinking. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Dewdrop got sent to take out enemy scientists, among other things. They thought they were getting the head of Fletcher-Flynn Research, since Mum and Dad were co-owners. It was a mission. She tried to tell them they had the wrong target."

"She killed your father and now Phineas is dating her?"

"Vanessa, do you know how many people were killed by tumbler bombs? I...yes, I was mad. Furious. She'd been living with Phineas for three months, and then we found out who the missing Dewdrop soldier was. I told the military who she was - last Monday night. Dear Lord, it's only been 4 days? Sorry, it's just been hectic. Anyway, so that whole mess is my fault. And then I watched the video monitoring Isabella as she got ready to execute her mission."

"By which you mean 'execute your father'."

"Yes. And she tried to tell them he was the wrong target. The implants had remote-control settings to cause intense pain, or to liquidate themselves and kill the user. They used the pain setting, and told her to follow orders or they'd make her girlfriend kill her. Her girlfriend was acting as mission control for her, back at the bunker they were using as a base. Eventually, on a later mission to kill Phineas and me, Isabella had to flip that switch on her girlfriend, or be killed herself."

Vanessa sat back. "Merde. Seriously?"

Ferb nodded. "My only regret right now is that the man who gave the orders died too quickly."

"Does your mother know?"

Ferb winced. "I hadn't thought of that. No, she doesn't."

Vanessa paused. "Wait a second. You said Dewdrop was sent to assassinate enemy scientists. How far back?"

Ferb blinked. "That's a very good question."

"Back to, say, three and a half years ago?"

"I do not know. You're wondering if..."

"Did Isabella kill my father too?"

"I can ask her if you'd like."

Vanessa laughed. "She'd tell you?"

"She might."

"Hey, Holly," Marion said, bringing her a glass of tea. "Where's your friend?"

Holly smiled up at the waitress. She'd been meeting Isabella here for lunch every Saturday for several months. Now, though...

"She escaped to Canada," Holly said.

"Oh, that's good to hear!" Marion said, nodding. "Good for her. How pissed was her owner?"

"He went with her, actually," Holly said.

Marion's eyebrows shot up. "Really? That seems unusual."

"Phineas never was a 'normal' kind of guy."

"Phineas? Wait, Phineas Flynn? Is that what happened in that big kerfuffle at Fletcher-Flynn?"

"Yeah. Both Phineas and his brother fled to Canada with Isabella. The mayor's pissed, the military is furious, and there isn't a lot that either can do about it."

Marion shook her head. "What a shame," she said insincerely. She pulled out her order pad. "So, what'll you have today?"

"Chicken caesar salad, please." Holly said without looking at the menu.

"Sure thing." She headed back to the kitchen to call in the order.

She did it. She's free, Holly thought. And that didn't even begin to cover the mess that Danville politics had become with the largest local defense contractor suddenly losing its leadership like that. Phineas and Ferb's secretary, Carla, had been running herself ragged trying to keep up with everything, and then three days after they'd left, the computer systems had all encrypted themselves, locking everyone out. The government had begun work on nationalizing the company, but various members of Congress were arguing about the legality of doing that, and others were questioning whether it mattered since it appeared all the data was gone.

The mayor was so busy he hadn't been able to work on buying himself a replacement slave, since anti-slavery activists had helped his last one escape to Mexico. Holly was glad for Mitsuko, but her freedom meant he was leering at Holly more than usual. Black women like Holly usually weren't his type, but he wasn't feeling picky right at the moment, and she had to suppress her urge to punch his lights out.

Movement across from her made her look up. A middle-aged man, swarthy with carefully-set jet-black hair, wearing a rumpled suit, smiled at her as he slid into the booth. "Pardon me. May I have a moment of your time, Miss Washington?" he asked in a smooth voice.

She glanced over at Marion, who was watching from a distance. "You've got until my lunch gets here. Deal?"

He nodded. "I have been asked to convey a message to you. Some of my associates, despite my warnings, decided that they should attempt to use you to send a message to the Mayor."

Holly froze, glaring at him. She'd been attacked a couple weeks back, walking home from the weekly pizza night with the girls. Isabella had been with her; it had been the first clue that Isabella wasn't just the ex-operations soldier she had claimed to be, because she'd taken out the attackers pretty much single-handedly. Now that Isabella was gone...

"I remember," Holly said.

"Rest assured, no other attack will be made against you. Someone mistook your friendship with the slave who just liberated herself as your ownership. The folks who made that mistake have, as I understand it, been suitably punished."

"I just heard, actually. They're pleading guilty to first-degree assault to avoid liberation charges." She frowned. So far, enslavement was only a punishment on the books for two crimes: treason, and attempting to help slaves escape. Five years minimum as a chattel slave, and potentially the rest of your life, was a brutal sentence for anything, and a jail term to avoid it was an easy choice to make.

He sighed. "I warned them, the fools. Ah, well. I just wanted to have a word with you. You may, in your position as the mayor's assistant, come into information that we may find useful. Obviously, I don't want you to break any laws or trust in doing so, but anything you can tell us would be appreciated." He handed her a card with a European email address on it, and no other identifying information. "Send email to that address, we'll get back to you when we can. I'd suggest using an anonymous account from a burner phone, just to be safe."

"Are you just being annoyingly vague for the hell of it, or do you have a point?"

He grinned at her. "We shall see, Miss Washington." He slid out of the booth just as Marion arrived with her salad.

"What was that all about?" Marion asked, watching him leave.

"I wish I knew."

The military SUV stopped briefly at the guard checkpoint, lit up against the darkening twilight, and the guard asked to see all of their ID. Phineas fished the lanyard they'd given him out from his jacket, and the guard shone a flashlight on it briefly before going on to Isabella's. The two of them had been put on the payroll of some organization called Defence Research and Development Canada, which had a research facility that shared space with the Canadian Forces on the base in Suffield.

Once everyone's identification had been checked, the guard waved them through. Their plane had landed at the airfield across the highway from the rest of CFB Suffield, which was where the Canadian government had decided to put them for now. The rest of 11 Platoon was following behind once their vehicles were unloaded, but Phineas and Isabella were sharing a ride over with Captain Desjardins and Warrant Officer Park. CFB Suffield had provided a corporal to drive them over.

The SUV pulled to a stop outside a row of four small, single-wide mobile homes. "I've been told you get this entire row," the corporal said.

"Yes, that is how I understand it," Captain Desjardins said. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Park, you and I will be sharing unit one. Monsieur and Mademoiselle will be sharing unit two, if that is acceptable?"

Isabella nodded as Phineas said, "That's fine."

"Who's in three and four?" Isabella asked.

"Monsieur Fletcher will have number three, and any additional researchers will be in number four. If need be, we can set up more." He flipped through some key rings, and handed two to Phineas and Isabella.

"Thank you," Isabella said.

"I've been told to tell you that you're free to walk about the base," the corporal said, turning to Isabella and Phineas. "But for your security, we'd like you to check in with either Captain Desjardins or Warrant Officer Park first."

"And if you need to go off base for any reason, we can make that happen as well," Captain Desjardins added. "We've all seen that you need some sort of security detail."

"Thank you. All of you. I think, right now, we just need to rest," Phineas said.

"Sounds good to me," Park muttered.

"We will check in tomorrow about groceries and clothes," Desjardins said. "We can have breakfast in the base canteen beforehand."

The corporal climbed out and opened the back door, letting Phineas and Isabella out of the vehicle. The cold Alberta wind cut through Phineas's jacket, which was fine for Danville but was clearly going to be inadequate for the prairie. "A bit brisk, eh?" the corporal asked with a grin. "Warm front went through today, it's only five below. Celsius. Not sure what that is in American units."

"It's not the temperature, it's the wind," Phineas said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

"Head in, I'll grab your stuff," the corporal said, opening the back of the SUV. Phineas didn't argue, but instead trotted toward the door to #2. His cold fingers fumbled with the keys, and he dropped them. Behind him, Isabella stifled a laugh as she reached past him to unlock the door. He picked up his keys and stepped inside. She followed, looking around. The corporal came up behind both of them, setting down their backpacks just inside the door. "Nice meeting you, folks," he said, closing the door as he left. Phineas felt himself get warmer as the door closed.

"Let me guess, your implants help keep you warm?" he asked, looking at Isabella.

She nodded, a grin on her face, and took his hand. Her fingers were still warm against his own. "They help, at least. Let's see what we've got in here."

They hung their jackets by the door and explored their new residence a bit. They had entered into a living room with a sofa, two chairs, and a television. Off to one side, a neat and simple kitchen held a small dining table. At one end was a master bedroom with en-suite bathroom and closet; the other held a hallway leading to a second bathroom and a second bedroom.

"It's a bit of a step down from your place in Danville," Isabella said. "Sorry about that."

He squeezed her hand. "I suspect I wouldn't have much freedom there any more. Even less than here."

She laughed softly. "True enough. Although I don't think you're likely to run away from here. You'd freeze before you got to the highway."

"No kidding." He paused for a moment, then said, "So, there's two bedrooms. So if you'd like one to yourself..."

She looked up at him nervously. "Would...would you like me to? I mean, now that you know who I am...what I am...if you'd feel better not sharing a bed with me..."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not worried about that. We've been sleeping in the same bed for months now. If you were going to do anything to me in your sleep, you would have by now. But I don't want to force you..."

She put a finger on his lips to silence him. "You never have forced me to do anything. Except maybe bring you along when I ran for Canada, and if you hadn't, I would have had to surrender when they found the Agonizer. If you're willing to trust me to share a bed with you..."

He slid his arms around her, pulling her close, and she nestled her head into his shoulder. "Always."