Chapter 6: 05: STRATEGY

“Guard. Set.”

Adam Pendergast watched with muted interest as Ivan Rodinsky, one of his two best mates, prepared for the next bout of a practice fencing duel. Ivan held his saber high in the air and hopped with adrenaline, waiting for Coach Witt’s command to attack. Adam checked the hour on his COM band and peered at the door where freedom lay, ready to leave and get on with the Harvest holiday break.

Ivan’s opponent, another senior named Lewell, held a lower stance, face hidden behind a synced mesh game mask. Adam spotted tension in Lewell’s body, indicating the stout young man would attack first, and wondered if Ivan also picked up on the signals.

“Go.”

Blades clashed. Lewell lunged and Ivan pushed the opposing saber out of line, though his counterattack failed to touch. The pair separated and Witt clapped, signaling the start of the next encounter.

“Guard. Set. Go.”

Adam’s sharp gaze followed their movements and he added his own reactions to a fight that didn’t include him. Ivan needed another point to win but so far, Ivan’s strikes yielded no points. Ivan was too aggressive, Adam critiqued to himself. Always too aggressive—even off the strip.

Ivan shoved Lewell out of bounds with an overzealous maneuver and Witt sounded a warning whistle, barking that Ivan’s next violation meant ejection—and loss. Ivan nodded shortly and returned to face Lewell, falling back into stance.

At the start of the following round Ivan went immediately for the kill, slashing Lewell across the shoulders and activating a red light on Lewell’s armor. He won the final point—and the match as well. Lewell shook his head as they faced each other, saluting before removing their helmets. Sweat dotted Ivan’s brow as the floodlights above cast a shadow over his cunning grin.

“Still tough,” said Lewell, balancing his saber under his arm as they shook hands. “You get me with that stop cut every time. Make it look easy. Maybe I’m just not as fast.”

“Keep your eyes open,” said Ivan, tossing his head with pride. “Find the opportunity to use your enemy’s attack against them. They won’t see it coming.”

Ivan glanced at Adam and signaled that he was headed toward the locker room to clean up. Adam nodded, checking the hour on his COM another time.

“Whatever,” he said, signaling back. “Hurry up.”

Ivan disappeared and after a short wait Adam wandered over to the wall storing practice weapons, passing by the holders to survey the collection of claw-like hilts in one of the compartments. That was his old dueling weapon, the rapier style, a tool flexible in approach just like Adam.

He used to be pretty good back when he played and even won a few district honors for it too. Thanks to a few of the unpleasant early visits from Elias when he was a boy where he’d seen his own red and felt his own pain, Adam knew bladed weapons well. The Great Captain’s lessons were the closest Adam had come to anything from the family business and Elias once told a tearful young Adam that, as a man—as a Pendergast—he had to know some things about the trade of war.

Adam slid his hand around one of the hilts and removed the blade with a smooth, practiced slide.

Guard, set, go.

He moved through a few quick motions with a controlled stance, cutting the air in swift pattern. Several first-years present in the gym caught sight and approached, rustling with interest, and one of the students with a face hidden behind a practice mask and still carrying a blade and walked up to Adam, gesturing at the rapier.

“The Great Pendergast,” he said. “Almost as great as The Captain. Neither of you anywhere near The Admiral, though.”

“Thanks.”

“Thought we’d missed out on seeing you with one of those. Are you coming back?”

“No.” Adam’s glance skirted over the first-year’s mask. He couldn’t see the boy’s face but he did see an opposing blade in his line of vision ready to strike. “Got other things going on. Busy."

The mask bobbed up and down. “You’re really doing that politics stuff, huh? That’s what I heard you’re all about. Stats and arguments. Office shit.”

“That’s the plan.”

“You want to run for senator too. Soon. Probably go for more, like your, uh…you know.”

“More.” Adam nodded. “Yeah. Like my dad—the admiral. Do what he did and get to the top. Change things.”

“Concord Party, right? That’s weird. Your family’s leaned Peace since…forever because of Silatem. You must get a lot of grief over that, showing so much love to the natives over your own.”

“Sure. You seem to know me well, mate. I should probably take a few notes from you about my life. Guess you must be right if you’ve got so much to say.”

“I am right. I think you want to be different from the rest. Different from your brother. Be your own man, even if you piss everyone off in the process. Maybe expressly to do that.” The first year chuckled. “I’m on the coin about you.”

The boy took a quick shot at Adam before he’d even finished speaking. Adam reacted, ready for the strike—the boy had shown every sign physically that the talk was an attempt at weak distraction—and met the lunge to parry the blade out of the way. His rapier jabbed the first year low in the chest and he slipped out of reach, watching the student stumble back in surprise.

“Neuberg, you goddamned idiot!” boomed Witt, thundering toward them with fists clenched. “I’m not repeating the rules of the gym to you again. This time I’ll beat it into you!”

The first year—Neuberg—pulled the helmet off of his head and flashed both Adam and the coach a sheepish grin. “Sorry,” he said. “Pendergast doesn’t fight anymore. He’ll be out of Cloverland by the end of the term. When else can I catch him with a blade? Probably never.”

“You were knocked off the strip by a goddamn junior during a goddamn school demonstration,” snapped Witt. “That’s why your dumb-ass is back here today running junior drills. Don’t worry about matches. Don’t worry about Pendergast. You’ll take someone’s eye out with that shit aim of yours and penalties seem to be the only way to get through your skull!”

Adam held up a hand, waving off the coach’s irritation. “No problem here, sir. Neuberg’s not quick enough to hit me so leave his record alone, I’m sure he learned a lesson trying that.”

“All right. Ace.” Neuberg brightened at the support. “Thanks mate. You’re all right. Guess I did learn something—not to mess with you.”

“Hope so. I won’t be as nice if you try it again. Take that as a warning.”

Witt shook his head and jerked his thumb behind him. “Get out of here. All of you. Go practice. If I catch that shit again you’re running laps ‘til your legs fall off.”

Neuberg saluted. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Smart ass.” Witt glared at the first years as they returned to their practice area. “Another leg-dragger with a big mouth. Worst of the bunch. Pathetic.”

Adam lowered the blade, peering at the coach. “Still tough on first years, sir. I remember what that was like.”

“It’s the only way the lot of you will learn.” Witt turned back to Adam, folding his arms. “You’re good at this, son, in a number of ways. A natural. Your brother taught you a few tricks, I can tell. Your reflexes aren’t civilian. Or your temper. They’ve been pushed by efforts learned from real experience on the field—life or death efforts.”

“Ah.” Adam’s gaze narrowed. “I was a kid when he went over some stuff. Not like he personally trained me or anything. It wasn’t a high point in my past.”

“But something stuck with you beyond the lessons. Quick hands. Quick eyes. Quick mind. That’s part of you. Part of your breed. Had to start early and within the blood.”

“I guess.”

“Are you sure you picked the right career?”

A faint smile crossed Adam’s face. “Respectfully, sir, I don’t think the pay-scale of a professional duelist is anywhere near a high-ranking ministry position over a lifetime. At least not until you get to Regionals and even then, a lot of that money comes from celebrity you’ll be lucky to win.”

“I’m not talking about games for entertainment, Pendergast,” said Witt. “I’m talking military like the men in your family line. Your father. Your brother. Those before them. You have the right heritage and instincts. You’d do well in the service.”

Adam scoffed at the assessment. Witt, an ex-recruitment officer, thought anyone who could stand under a rain cloud and predict getting wet should join the military. Union was always in need of new people willing to take a bullet for their many causes. That’s what Witt had specialized in gathering for a long time.

“Thanks for the compliment,” said Adam. “But I’ve got no interest in getting shot. Countering tough rebuttals is enough psychological damage in my life right now.”

“You’re going to waste your mind in politics.”

“I thought politics might be the exact place where minds are needed.”

Now Witt scoffed. “What they want in those chairs are empty suits. People just smart enough to push the buttons they’re told to push at the right time. The military needs men who can handle pressure and secure a win.” He gave Adam a hard look. “You’re a leader, son. Get on a path that makes a real difference on this godforsaken planet.”

“Have this conversation with Rodinsky, sir,” replied Adam. “He has no career goals. Not much in the way of goals in general. I’m set with what I want to do.”

“Rodinsky’s infantry at best. Maybe they’d let him have a few people to boss around but he won’t do anything meaningful. No foresight or patience. Lacking brains too. You, though—you’re command caliber.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Adam wouldn’t think about it. Saying that, however, was the only way to get the coach to end their conversation and head back to the first-years. Students who did need guidance.

Ivan returned from the locker room, face red from rapid scrubbing, and he lit up when he spotted a blade in Adam’s hand.

“You’re back?” said Ivan.

Adam shook his head. “No. This was a grade requirement that I’ve passed and now I’m through. Just wanted to see if it felt the same. It does.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Ivan grinned. “Don’t stand down, soldier. Not yet.” He tossed his backpack to the ground and headed to the third blade holder on the wall, withdrawing a saber. “Let’s go. You and me. One for the history feeds.”

“Ha. Yeah. Right.” Adam gestured at his own uniform. “No gear, no masks, no game. Those are the rules. Your blade doesn’t even match mine anyway.”

“Who cares?” Ivan took a step back and fell into his starting position. “Blades are blades. Weapons are weapons. If we were really battling none of that would matter except who’s the first to kill.”

“Yeah. Sure. But this is a game.”

“Let’s pretend it’s not.”

Adam gestured to the coach mid-demonstration with first years on the other side of the gym. “Witt will lose his mind. He’s already hawking me for the weapon and itching to flag somebody. Look at him.” Adam reached forward to return the rapier to the holder and paused when Ivan swatted his wrist quickly with the flat end of the saber. “Fuck off,” he grunted. “Shithead.”

“Sure.” Ivan swatted him again.

“Do that again," Adam snapped. "I swear it. I’ll knock you out. You know I’ll do it.”

“Aye, you can throw one, but you can’t use fists this time. Use the blade. Fight me.”

“No.”

“You’re scared.”

Adam shoved Ivan aside. “I said fuck off.”

Ivan’s strike came quick before Adam could turn away. The practice blade hummed as it swung for Adam’s head and Adam spun to meet Ivan’s attack, the sharp sound of metal clanking ringing throughout the gym. Witt blew the whistle again as they separated.

“Damn it to hell,” barked Witt, marching up to them as they awaited his arrival. “As entertaining as you two bobble-heads are you know the fucking rules!”

“Sorry Coach,” said Adam.

“Yeah,” repeated Ivan. “Sorry.”

Witt’s narrow stare inspected them both. “Seeing that we’re approaching Harvest and that’s…an important day for everyone, I’ll show holiday spirit. I won’t make you run laps during the break.”

“Thanks,” Adam and Ivan replied in unison.

“But—if I catch this again you’re both getting docked. I don’t care if it messes up your graduation plans. I don’t care who you are. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied again.

“Return your weapons. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Adam and Ivan did as instructed. Lewell, who’d joined Neuberg and the other first-years to watch the sudden fight, scattered once Witt’s attention was on them again. Adam noticed as he made his way to the gym's exit that Ivan still grinned wide at his side.

“What’s with the giggles?” said Adam. “Nothing happened besides you almost ruining Harvest for both of us.”

“Aye,” replied Ivan. “Nothing happened. In there.”

“Won’t happen anywhere else either.”

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“If this were real you’d have no choice on whether to fight me.” Ivan shoved his hands into his pockets, looking ahead as they walked. “Fight or die—those would be your only options.”

“Yeah. Well.” Adam sniffed. “If this were real I’d hit you first. You’ll be the only one deciding whether you live or die.”

“That’s what you think.”

“What I know.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Talk, talk. That’s all you do.”

“We’ll see.”

“Sure thing, mate.”

Ivan didn’t mean it when he said they’d fight to the death. That was stupid. Adam and Ivan had been friends since their days in Cloverland Elementary, days filled with rivalry and friendly aggression. They’d come to physical blows a few times over the years, sometimes bad enough to draw blood, with Adam once leaving Ivan with a pair of deserved black eyes, but they’d always remained friends. Their longtime camaraderie survived the fights and continued seamlessly through the years without grudge.

Adam knew Ivan well, well enough to understand the aimless senior. Ivan liked to make jokes and most of the time they weren’t funny.

☼ ☼ ☼

Adam’s other best mate of equal standing was Jonah Singleton, medical candidate for Public Health & Safety. He, Ivan, and Jonah had remained good friends since the beginning of their school years and Adam would trust his life to either of them, since they were more of brothers to him than his actual brother.

Clusters of seniors were gathered at the south end of the campus in an area lined with hanging tree branches, using the limbs for cover while they enjoyed contraband off-hours. Rays of gold-red light sprayed across the skies of Altir, light that was always hazy due to the ethereal alien mist of elemental ether circulating in the atmosphere far, far above.

Students chattered as Adam passed them with quick nods of acknowledgment, overhearing one hot topic in common with everyone just as Gracie had gleefully predicted earlier. All the seniors were planning to attend Blood Fang’s zero hour show on Harvest Eve, touted already as the biggest party of any school year. A party that Adam had decided he wouldn’t attend no matter how popular it was.

Smoke wafted past him as he paused beside Jonah and Ivan, wrinkling his nose while glancing at Jonah’s unlocked sedasig device. Inside Jonah’s modified smoking tube was a dose of venom extracted from fangs of actual native feeders. The extract, imported from the wildlands, was highly toxic in large doses and also extremely illegal within Union.

Adam hadn’t touched the stuff in over a year and even before that, he’d only experimented with venom a handful of times solely because everyone else was taking it. He didn’t miss the cloudy, unsteady feeling of native intoxication at all, as it made him feel like he was approaching a line where he wouldn’t be able to get his own mind back, even though he always did in the end.

“My uniform’s going to stink,” he said, dusting off his sleeves. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes with me so…thanks, idiots.”

Jonah inhaled deep and puffed out a cloud of extract, his pupils dilating as the drug coursed through his bloodstream. He took a few exaggerated steps away from Adam and raised both palms in the air, locks of brown curls falling over his eyes.

“Better, Senator?” he said.

“A little,” replied Adam. “Not much.”

“Oh, such a saint,” scoffed Ivan, leaning back to check out the cluster of girls smoking a few meters away from them. The girls looked back, giggling, and he grinned at them before turning away. “What a martyr our boy is. Good dog. I’ll tell you this—you were more interesting before Concord cut your jewels off. Party of the ages and you’d rather lick some old geezer’s boots for a chance to make his coffee.” Ivan shook his head, accepting the sedasig from Jonah. “Pathetic.”

Adam adjusted the tie around his shirt collar and straightened, his clear-blue eyes vivid with self-satisfaction. “You call it boot-licking,” he said. “I call it networking.”

“Real cute way of spinning your humiliation.”

“Maybe it’s not exciting but it’s sure as hell more useful than whatever you all are planning.” He glanced at the students around them too—and the girls as well, some of whom he already knew personally. They were all from the upper-crust families of Union society, the cream of humanity’s crop, and had the brightest of futures laid out for them since birth. “Show some respect. I might be signing off on your legal sentences once I make it through the Justice route. Try to stay on my good side.”

“Please. Lots of help went into where you’re going.” Ivan ticked off the points on his fingers as he exhaled. “War hero father. High-ranking arbiter mother. Family history in the ministries and with hunters, with your brother leading the way—not to mention every gossip rag’s infatuation with that great captain. Also, lots of favors from one specific Kalum Khelot and her family—”

“Of course I know the odds are in my favor,” said Adam. “They always were.”

“A job as a judge’s aide at your age. Not even your mother could arrange something so plush. It’s too on the nose, those family influences. Some favor.” Ivan smirked. “Maybe the little queen has the hots for you.”

“No way. Don’t even joke about it. That’s how rumors start and I’ve dealt with plenty of those.” Adam pretended to cut his own throat, drawing his finger across his skin. “That’d be my future if I ever got involved with that mess of an arrangement. King Al-Bheti, Prince Malek, and all forty of the other sons would beat me to bloody pieces before drawing me up for a public quartering. I’ll…pass. Really.”

Jonah snorted, choking on his own laugh. “Wonder if the priestess would keep helping you out if she heard you talk that way about her future in-laws. Not very Concord of you, mate.”

“She knows what I think,” retorted Adam. “Running for Concord doesn’t mean I can’t see what’s going on. They put those fucking tribal tattoos on her skull right after she was born and those hurt just looking at them. No choice for her in that part but she wears them with a smile. Some arrangement. She seems nervous about the whole thing qne mentioned qw much a few times on her own.”

“Tough talk. Cheap talk too. We all know she’s not an option and that’s not due to any foreign arrangement.” Ivan handed the sedasig back to Jonah. “Your eye’s on the redhead. You won’t look elsewhere…for now. Planning your move because she’s free but taking your sweet time getting the job done. Fucking. Whipped.”

“I’m not whipped.” Adam scowled. “I like Li. I have for a while. The timing’s been off and there's a lot involved in trying to ask her out. I don’t want to mess things up and I probably have one shot to get it right. That’s all.”

“Jerking off outside a girl’s window for six years is a weird way of telling her you like her.”

Jonah chortled. “Pender-fag’s only brave with girls that throw themselves at him. Can’t deal with rejection. If Li says no his poor little heart’ll be crushed in the worst kind of way.”

Ivan nudged Adam with his elbow. “You know she’s going to see Blood Fang, right?”

“Whatever.”

“No whatever. She’s free and you want to make a move. She’ll be drinking that night, lonely without Spencer, forcing herself to smile when she’d rather be crying—”

“Whatever!” snapped Adam.

“Spencer’ll be there too, man,” added Jonah. “He won’t quit. He wants her back and she’s the sentimental type that’ll stick with what she knows. Give it too much time and they’ll be together again. Don’t wait. Don’t blow this. It's important to you, right?”

The smell of burning venom concentrate clouded heavy around them. Without a breeze the scent around them was earthy and faintly pungent. Adam was glad he remembered to bring a vial of spice-water and removed it from his pocket, a temporary fix, since he’d still need a good shower before the fundraiser. However there was no need to raise questions on the way in about something he hadn’t actually done.

“I’m being respectful,” he said. “She’s a nice girl. We’ve been friends for a long while and she used to go steady with someone else for years. Now she’s free.” He spritzed himself with the spice-water. “Her bio’s perfect for my future campaign and she knows how to make headlines for Pender-Pal without using my family name. I can tell by hanging around her all this time that she’d make a good, loyal wife and mother. Vangrali origin, too. Just…perfect all around.

“Wife? Mother?” Jonah grimaced. “Mate…you’re not even dating. Get a hold of yourself. It might not happen the way you want and there’s plenty of quality options who’d love to be your status wife. Remember last Mid-Year break? You were pretty busy. Happy too, if memory’s right.”

Adam cut Jonah off, slicing through the air with his hand to emphasize. “That’s the past, mate. No more Mid-Year marathons. I don’t need a status wife either and Li’s no trophy. That’s easy to see.”

“Haha.” Ivan snickered. “Ouch. Damn, man. Cruel, but funny.”

“Cruel?” Adam said. “That’s not what I meant. You know what I meant.”

“Right. But I doubt Li would want to marry you if she heard you talking about her like a business deal. Not too different from Al-Trashbag’s setup.”

“Not true. I do like her. A lot. Maybe even love her. Enough time’s passed and I still think about her that way. I think about her all the time.” He shrugged. “No harm in also seeing a benefit to my optics with her. I can multitask.”

“You’re an awful human being, Pendergast.” Ivan gestured at them to move. “Come on—we told those girls we’d meet ‘em over at Astros. Maybe you can lay some of that charm on Li when we get there.” He snatched the vial of spice-water from Adam as the trio moved forward, making their way to the nearby campus exit. “Oh good,” he said, glancing at the bottle. “This is the smell Khel likes. She said so the other day. Saw it in Altirian Elite.”

“Still going for that one, huh?” Jonah wrinkled his nose at the smell and waved off the offer to spritz himself. “You’re really into that ‘oh fuck we’re going to die’ type of danger.”

“Don’t mind danger. Or dying. It’s not the end of the world in this damn place. As for Khelot…I’ll keep trying ‘til there’s no chance left. That’s all.”

“Good fucking luck.”

Adam’s mouth tightened as the boys made their way through the tangle of trees, Ivan and Jonah’s words repeating in his mind as they walked. Ivan’s assessment of his feelings for Talitha bothered him—made him sound like a robot. Adam wasn’t a robot. At all. He kept pace with the other two seniors and tried clarifying himself further.

“Based on the amount I think about Li and how long we’ve known each other, trends suggest we’d have a happy future together,” he said. “There’s at least an 87% chance I already love her, maybe deeply. Some days those odds go over 90%, like when she has her hair in two braids instead of just the one. She’s got them on today. They’re really cute. I like seeing ‘em.”

“You suck,” remarked Jonah.

Jonah and Ivan laughed. Adam ignored them. He didn’t have any graceful words to say about the way he felt for Talitha but he knew it was real, because he noticed when her cheeks turned as red as her hair, which happened when she was angry or embarrassed. Adam usually didn’t remember trivial shit like that about girls but Li stayed on his mind often, ever since their first meeting as youths when his family—even Elias back then—stopped by the Pender-Pal orphanage that housed her.

“All right,” he said at last, even though neither Ivan or Jonah asked. “I made a decision. I’m in love with Talitha Morai. We really connected over the years and more than a few times, like in a personal way. Time always goes easy with her.”

Jonah sighed. “Ah. Fuck.” He paused, reaching forward to feel Adam’s forehead and whisked his hand away when Adam shoved him. “You’re out of your mind, mate. Are you feeling all right? Any pain, disorientation, extreme fatigue or sensations of sharp bones ripping through your gums? Maybe…a sudden, uncontrollable taste for blood?”

“Well, I do feel pain,” replied Adam. “It’s coming from you.”

“No, no. Don’t make fun.” Ivan clapped Adam on the back. “This is a big deal for our man. He’s had an epiphany. He loves the girl, he’s been in denial all this time, and now he’s going to be the knight in shining armor to get her—maybe rescue her from a big bad drug dealer from the wrong side of RedSect. Am I right?”

“Sure,” said Adam absently. “Sounds ace. Why not?”

“Another strategy. Like always.”

“Yeah. Always.” He thought to himself for a moment. “But I love her. I mean that.”

“Sure you do.”

The boys reached the stairs that led to the underground tube station, a network of high-speed shuttles that linked the major parts of Capitol City together for immediate travel. They descended into a sleek passageway that separated a maze of hallways, where each passage was labeled with cardinal and intercardinal directions organizing Union territories into districts, zones, and sectors.

A large interactive display along the wall blinked as they passed, highlighting available shuttle routes from their current position. Union’s insignia, a proud warlike falcon with wings outstretched, gleamed above the vestibule where armed officers from CDPD, the Civil Defense Police Department, stood guard.

Adam held his COM band in front of the reader next to the entry gate, waiting for a beep of acceptance before turning toward the hall headed Southwest. He cast a side glance at the polished black CDPD rifles slung on the shoulders of the guards and heard Ivan speak beside him.

“Look at that,” said Ivan, following close behind, voice dropping low. “That’s a UD-SG rifle—X9 model. Fully automatic with a single tap, fueled by ether tanks and built with fully interchangeable modules capable of seamless remote COM syncing. You can disable your weapon with a command if you lose it. That thing can blow your head off from a hundred meters away before you’re done picking your nose.”

“How the hell do you know that?” said Adam.

“We’ve all got hobbies,” Ivan replied.

“Yeah, well—I’m glad only CDPD and Defense carries those kinds of weapons. Doesn’t belong here. Sets a bad tone when we’re supposed to be at peace.”

“Whatever.”

An officer’s helmet visor tilted toward them as they walked through the passageway. Adam felt himself release an inhale he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

“If you’re serious about Li rethink the Zero Hour party,” said Ivan, unfettered by the display of arms as they continued to the shuttle. “You won’t have a better shot than that night.”

“Trespassing the border,” remarked Adam. “Twice, if you count the round trip, to party with a soon-to-be permanently outlawed music band. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of students taking illegal contraband in the middle of unauthorized territory.” He chuckled. “Aye, it’s a disaster waiting to happen. If we get caught my life is over.”

“No, it won’t be over,” said Ivan. “Not for attending a party. There’d have to be more involved than that. Your friends in high places will clean up your record if you get in trouble and Mommy won’t let you fail.” He laughed. “I’ll tell you this much—if you miss this night your social life is definitely over. A costume party gives you perfect plaus—plaus—what did you call it?”

“Plausible deniability.”

“Plausi—yeah. That thing.” Ivan paused to stroke his jaw. “You owe it to yourself to have one last night to go nuts before Union puts a leash on you. Wonder what Li’s gonna wear this year. She looked pretty cute at the Flint City costume party last quarter. What was she dressed as that night—a tiger?”

“Flint City. Oh yeah.” Jonah stopped to remember the party as well. “I meant to link with that girl I met but I forgot her name. You’ve got no clue how many girls named ‘Kelly’ are in the Capitol City database. She was Kelly…something. Or Kara. Or…Karin. Whatever.” Jonah waved off his confusion. “She was real cute. That’s all that matters.” He glanced at Adam again. “You’ve got to go. This is it. Won’t be another party like this and you’ll regret missing out.”

Adam faced them both, considering his options. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “All right?”

“Don’t think,” replied Jonah. “Do.”

Talitha did look adorable in Flint City. Ivan was right. Adam remembered Talitha’s drawn on cat whiskers and sparkling nose, as well as her wide grin and flushed cheeks when she spilled her drink on him because she’d had one too many.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. “We’ll see.”

“We’ll see, he says. All right. That’s…almost there.” Ivan punched his fists together in satisfaction as they descended another level to the platform labeled West-Southwest. “This year, mates, everything changes.”

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