V parked outside the garage behind the pawn-shop. "Y'forgot your clothes," observed Judy, stepping out of the Quadra, smiling. "Still wearin' the netsuit. Only grabbed your jacket and boots."

V hadn't even realized that until Judy pointed it out. She got out of the car, looked down at herself and smiled sheepishly, as if Judy had caught her doing something embarrassing. "Guess so."

"Maybe it's a sign," said Judy, thunking the door shut. She came around the car, the greasy smell of Chinese takeout wafting up from the reconstituted paper bag in her hand, and pulled V's arm around her waist. "Universe tryin' to tell ya somethin', maybe."

It was a wet, humid Arizona night. The rain had thinned to a trickle, and they crossed the neon-slick tarmac to the garage. "Yeah," agreed V. "Maybe." She slipped away from Judy to unlatch and roll up the garage shutter.

And froze.

Jackie's bike looked good as new, like something that had never been introduced to the wheels of an armored 'Saka transport. As nice as the day she'd been given it by Mama Welles at the ofrenda, when V had promised she'd take good care of it.

Their helmets were sitting on the padded leather seat. Among the decals that had already been on them, someone had painted, very beautifully, omamori, those Japanese charms for luck and protection V had seen being sold at the shrine on the outskirts of Night City. Yakuyoke, Kotsu-anzen, Byoki-heyu, En-musubi.

She didn't feel the tears until they slid hot down her cheeks, and V wiped them away, took a deep breath. There was a handwritten note taped to the seat. It read:

Hope you don't mind the new doodles on your helmets. Would've bought you real omamori, but knowing you and Judy, you would've just lost them. Be sure to thank Juan and your Aldecaldos buddies when you can. They put the bike back together for you. - Ayako

V folded the piece of paper, carefully slipped it into the zippered pocket on her jacket. Judy wound her arms around her and asked, "Y'okay, Val?"

She nodded. "Just a little overwhelmed. In a good way," said V, rubbing her stinging eyes with the backs of her wrists. "I'll be fine." She went back out, climbed into the Quadra and parked it inside the garage, beside the bike. Locking the garage up, they headed into the pawn-shop.

As they stepped inside, they were greeted by shouts: Panam and Meredith arguing back and forth while Gotoda scrambled between the two women, trying to calm them down.

"You know we could've shot your fucking clan when you made that break for the smuggling tunnel!" Meredith wore a sage-green dress cut in some streamlined corpo-style, and canary yellow pumps. "Militech let you go, because we wanted you gone," she continued, seething. "But maybe we should've just smashed you and your fucking buddies like the desert-bugs you are instead of extending you that bit of grace— especially after that shit you pulled with the Basilisk." She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Raffens my perfect, body-sculpted ass!" she snapped. "They're not organized enough to pull off a convoy-jump like that. Stank like Aldecaldos from the get-go."

Panam, in stark contrast to the perfectly coiffed and pressed Meredith, was sun-browned, covered in dust, the hems of her jeans and the rubber soles of her moto-boots crusted with dry mud. Her patchwork racing jacket was tied by the sleeves around her waist. She wore a tattered white crop-top. "Maybe I should just smash you right here , corporat!" she shot back, ignoring Gotoda's attempts to soothe her. "We had nothing to do with whatever happened at this Fabrika place." Panam turned to look at her and Judy. "What did you do now , Valerie? I have this suit saying something bad went down at some place called Fabrika, and she thinks the clan had something to do with it."

"Meredith," said V, "the Aldecaldos had nothin' to do with it. But you're gonna tell me what the fuck happened there."

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be fucking blaming anyone and hoping something sticks," said Meredith, acidly. "One minute I'm fucking an escort at the Pisano, the next my superiors are fucking me. Threatening me with censure for some scuffle between our people and Arasaka that I had fuck-all to do with." She glared at V, her eyes burning holes through her like lasers. "And I know you had something to do with what happened in The Flues, V, because you always have something to do with it."

"Look, Meredith, I hadda day, and still got stuff t'do," said V, trying to knead the tension out of her temples. "Can we revisit this tomorrow?"

Meredith pursed her lips. "Fine," she said, "but I'll be contacting you first thing in the morning. Don't you dare blow me off, merc. Our asses are on the line." Meredith shoved past V, her high-heels clicking sharply against the floor, and left the shop, the bell-tinkle soundbite punctuating her departure.

"She's really lovely," said Panam, finally. She grinned with white teeth, then pulled her and Judy into a bear-hug. She smelled like the road, like dirt and hot sunshine. "Oh, man, I missed you gonks," she said, and drew back to beam at them. "How's the bike? Mitch and I helped that Juan guy put it back together. Your deckhead choom, she put the eddies out for the parts. New stuff, too. Not salvage."

"Haven't had the chance to ride it yet. But bet it runs s'good as it looks, Panam." V was trying, very hard, not to choke up. Judy hugged her, squeezed gently. "I'll hafta thank Ayako when I see her." She paused. "Hey, uh, Panam—"

"Carol got your in," said Panam, already anticipating the question. "That was the other reason I came to Phoenix. Wanted to tell you in person that the Technomancers agreed to meet with your deckhead friend. Couple days from now. They were very fussy about the when and where—we'll be heading out into the Trash Pan, what the locals call the Sonoran these days, to meet with them at their camp."

"Seriously?" said V, dumbstruck.

"Seriously," said Panam. "Me and Carol are coming with you to meet them. Our clan moved their camp away from Flagstaff to be closer to Phoenix. Hydroponics job was a bust. Tried to cheat us out of our pay, so we said fuck it, took what we were owed and a little extra for putting us through the hassle of it, and moved." She touched V's face, her palms warm and calloused against her skin. Panam liked to touch her friends when she spoke to them. There was nothing sexual about it. It was her way, V had long ago decided, of letting her friends know that she was comfortable enough to invite them into her personal space. "And we did it for you," she added, and let go. "We want to help you get rid of that biochip, and we're going to do whatever it takes, even if that means cutting deals with the Technomancers."

"Ain't the Technomancers who're gonna save me. Not exactly anyway," said V, and she told Panam everything that had happened up until that point. "Ayako's got it figured out," she said, once she'd finished her recap. They were sitting in hers and Judy's apartment now, freshly showered and changed into their pajamas (Panam had borrowed a T-shirt and shorts from Judy, though the shirt was a bit tight around her chest), eating lukewarm Chinese takeout at the plastic table in the kitchen. "Just needs the ICEbreaker, and the Technomancers to get us up into space. They gotta shuttle?"

Panam nodded, popping a fried dumpling into her mouth. "Yep," she said. "Registered out of Panama. Keep it in pieces, assemble when needed. Modular shuttle." She sipped her Sapporo beer, commented on how it tasted so much better than the synth-shit, then said, "So you really trust this deckhead to come through for you? Not afraid of getting burned."

"I trust her," said V, and meant it.

"Okay," said Panam, smiling, "good enough for me. And if all else fails, we still have StormTech. Might even be able to make some inroads with the Technomancers." Her smile inverted, then, and she said, "So there's a Militech AI that wants to start a war. And here I thought that shit with Arasaka was the worst it could get." She knocked back more beer, shook her head. "I don't know how you always wind up in these weird situations, Valerie. But you know the family's got your back." She glanced at Judy, adding, "And you have an output who just doesn't know when to quit."

"Oye, I gotta ring ridin' on this," said Judy, grinning. "Ain't no stupid AI gonna keep me from havin' a long, happy marriage."

Panam grinned. "It's only been a couple months, and you're talking about marriage already?"

"We're lesbians," said V, matter-of-factly. She was trying to keep a straight face. "Couple months is a couple years in lesbian-time, Pan. S'like dog years."

The three of them laughed. Panam said, "Cassidy's ordained, you know."

V blinked. "That old cowboy's a minister?"

"Bob talked him into it, years ago." Her grin wavered slightly as Bob's name came up; he'd been one of the Aldecaldos who'd died in the attack on Arasaka Tower. "Besides," she said, perking up again, "someone's got to conduct marriage ceremonies in the clan." The grin returned, her teeth bright against her tanned skin. "No pressure," she said, and winked. She put her elbows on the table, cradling her chin in her hands, radiating feline energy, like she was about to push a vase off the shelf. "Just something to think about now that you've got a cure within reach."

Judy smirked, looking sidelong at V. "Yeah, Valerie." She was sitting cross-legged on the plastic chair, in a jockbra and boyshorts patterned in tiny cartoon fishes and smiling octopi, digging around a waxy carton of synthtenderloin lo mein. "Somethin' to think 'bout," she added, and playfully elbowed V in the side, ferrying noodles into her mouth with disposable imitation wood chopsticks.

"Yeah, totally, no pressure or anythin'," said V, blushing. She looked at Judy. "Should get started on that BD tonight."

"Somethin' tells me Ayako's gonna be outta touch for a day or two," said Judy, smirking. She slurped up more noodles, licked a bit of soy sauce off her lips. "Can do it tomorrow, after y'talk to that Militech suit."

"You're comin' with me," said V.

Judy made a face. "I hate mornings."

"The suit could try something," said Panam, and sipped her beer. "She sounded kind of freaked out. Panicky."

Judy heaved a sigh. "Fine, fine. I'll go. Ain't gonna let mullet-bitch hurt my calabacita."

She heard a knock at her apartment door. V sighed. "Better not be Meredith," she said. In her periphery, V saw Panam lay her gun on the table, her hand on the grip, eyes tracking her to the door.

Gotoda stood at the door, in a T-shirt and jeans, and his plastic zoris. He looked like a kid trying to sell her cookies. "I do not mean to disturb, V-san," said Gotoda, and bowed deeply, apologetically.

She could sense something was wrong. Not a bad kind of wrong, just an off kind of wrong. V waved at Panam to put the gun away. "No bother, Gotoda," she said. "What's up, choom?"

"I would…" Gotoda trailed off, fidgeting, running a hand back through his shag of glossy black hair. Up close, now that she got her first real look at him since Beautiful Lumps, he looked like one of Ayako's Japanese rockerboys. But all the energy those rockerboys had had in the poster were nonexistent in Gotoda, who looked tired and threadbare. "I would like some company, if that is okay."

"Sure," said V, and stepped aside so he could enter the apartment. She closed the door behind him. "Y'okay, buddy? Look like you haven't been sleepin'."

"I have not," confessed Gotoda, shyly shuffling his way into the apartment. He announced, " Ojamashimasu ," and smoothly slipped his socked feet out of his zoris, bowing to Panam and Judy. "I did not realize you and Judy-san had company, V-san." He spun around to face her, bowed again. " Gomen , I can leave."

"Gotoda, relax," said V, and squeezed his shoulder in a friendly gesture of support. He flinched in surprise. "That's Panam Palmer. She's chill, promise. From our clan. And stop bowin' so goddamn much, man. You're gonna slip a disc."

"Yeah, I don't bite," said Panam, smiling.

"Bullshit," said Judy, grinning. She looked at Gotoda. "What's up, Goto? Y'don't usually visit. Wanna beer?"

"Yes, please," he said, and went to bow again, but stopped suddenly, straightened up. Gotoda stood there awkwardly, in the middle of her living-room, until Panam pulled out a chair and invited him to sit down. He quietly made his way over to the table, sat down.

"Don't have to be nervous," Panam said, pushing a beer toward him. "So your name is Gotoda?"

"Daisuke Gotoda is my full name, Palmer-san," said Gotoda, and sipped his beer. He studied the bottle. "Sapporo. There are better beers in Japan. But Ayako-sama likes this beer, for some reason."

"Tastes light," commented Panam. Then, "Also, call me Panam."

"It tastes light because its grain profile contains rice rather than corn," explained Gotoda. "It is a way for Japanese breweries to lower the malt content in their beers. Beer in Japan is taxed on how high the malt content is, you see."

"Ah, that makes sense," said Panam.

"So what brings y'over here, Gotoda?" asked V, sitting back down beside Judy. "WNI botherin' you again?"

Gotoda nodded. "Yes, but the worst of it has passed. Thank you." He paused, nursing his beer as though he were carefully mulling something over, weighing pros and cons. Then, "I also wished to tell you about the black clinic trials, V-san. You had expressed interest in this thing."

"WNI, black clinic trials?" asked Panam, furrowing her brow.

"Wireless Neural Interface," said Gotoda, and he lifted up his shag of dark hair to show the skullcap unit bolted to the back of his head. Panam grimaced, as if the sight of it hurt her. "I have a very early version of this thing, Panam-san," he continued. "Ayako-sama has a unit too, but hers is better, more advanced." He regarded them with an unreadable look. "Arasaka, under Saboru-sama, wished to utilize predictive programming to optimize and streamline the zaibatsu's growth. Locating potential lucrative markets, for example, before the market even realized it was a market. The WNI was the hardware that was required for this." He paused to sip his beer, then continued, "This, the WNI, was their first attempt at the implementation of advanced predictive software. Rather than risk an AI and all its potential downsides, Arasaka simply wished to augment 'runners with the means to see the world as AIs do. As data. Data that could be interpreted and calculated, implemented into algorithms."

"Half-space," said V, frowning.

Gotoda nodded. "But it was not enough. The neural demand of reading and interpreting so much data was simply beyond the capabilities of 'runners at the time." He sipped his beer, shifting a little in his seat. "Arasaka cut a deal with the black clinics in Tokyo and Chiba. Most of us 'runners came from the slums. They were offering us money. We could not refuse. They experimented on us, filled us up with strange prototype tech, sent us diving into enemy databases, snuffling for secrets like truffle-pigs."

"So Ayako, she was one of those 'runners?" asked Judy.

"Yes," said Gotoda. "But her skill bought her freedom from the black clinics, and they sent Ayako-sama to work on the Relic in California, under Anders Hellman." He paused, contemplating the ideograms on his beer. "Kuchisake-onna, her fixer, sold her out to Arasaka," he continued softly. "Ayako-sama was not able to break away until you bought her a chance, by pure happenstance, with Konpeki Plaza." Gotoda looked up from his beer, watching V. "The company was in such chaos after Saboru-sama's sudden death that she was able to slip away to Arizona. Me and several netrunners assisted with this, her getaway."

"I gotta know somethin', Gotoda," said V, carefully. "T-Bug."

"Yes, V-san, we killed your netrunner friend. It was necessary so Ayako-sama could get away."

V said nothing, drank her beer, vaguely aware of the weight of Judy's hand on her shoulder. Then she said, "But why Ayako? What makes her so special? Just… I gotta know T-Bug died for a reason, man."

"Ayako-sama has a role, a destiny, to fulfill," said Gotoda, cryptically. "It was necessary to get her out of Arasaka's clutches, V-san." He paused, shook his head. "But, ah, I did not mean to go on a tangent. You wished to know about the black clinic trials." Gotoda took a tense sip of his beer. Then, "We were attacked by Militech netrunners. They stole data. Data that would later become the foundation of the Uncle Sam Project. A few years later, Arasaka tasked us to infiltrate a NUSA subnet, the very subnet where they were storing Uncle Sam; but it was a trap the AI had laid for us. Most of the netrunners were flatlined. They were the lucky ones." He paused, his mouth pressing into a thin, firm line. Gotoda grimaced slightly. "We managed to destroy the subnet with a virus, but there was enough cached data that Militech was able to migrate the project to the Highrider Net and start over. We cannot reach it there."

"Uncle Sam set a trap?" asked Panam. When Gotoda nodded, she frowned. "So we're talking about a full-blown, sentient AI. The kind NetWatch warns us about."

"It wants a war," said Gotoda, solemnly. "A war to end all wars. It wishes to wipe the slate clean and start over. It wishes to become what Saboru-sama tried to become."

"And what exactly did Saboru Arasaka want to become?" asked Panam.

"A reckoning," said Gotoda. "If he could not become immortal, revenge was the next best thing to immortality."