Those four days were very productive for Kaz’s crew. Although they had long since made plans for the next phase, there was always more to be done. Between the prep work, memorization, and the daily chores of the complex, Jaime hardly had a second to herself. Such was life in an outer shell commune. Now, half a week from their last endeavor, the resistance was starting their next feat of terrorism. Once more, Jaime found herself paired with Jackson, much to her chagrin. They’d known each other for years, but Jackson seemed to think that Bones shouldn’t be part of the resistance. Needless to say, he made her life as difficult as possible. Their third member was an older gentleman with the moniker ‘Panda,’ undoubtedly on account of how his dark skin contrasted with his snow white hair. Rod, Kaz, and the other fighters had stayed behind. The plan only accounted for three fighters; any more would prove a hindrance.

The three volunteers clung to a cord that was dragging them across the expanse between hemispheres. Such cords were fashioned to keep the hemispheres from migrating beyond the standard deviation, and were therefore constructed from massive coils of galvanized steel for strength. Few other aspects of Hasis had as much careful craftsmanship, but few other aspects also directly prevented the ‘pheres from drifting off into the belt. Along the center of Hasis, however, were a few special cords that remained perfectly still to serve as the framework for pseudo-planet’s rotation. From the perspective of the hemispheres, however, the cords appeared to move rapidly. A rudimentary set of grappling hooks had granted a new, if dangerous, means of travel.

Overhead Atra was starting to eclipse the sun, signifying the beginning of the night cycle in the approaching hemisphere. Jaime and her crew were arriving at their destination soon, and what they had planned would be best completed under cover of darkness. The shore of the eastern hemisphere was advancing at uncomfortable speeds, and Jaime motioned to the other two to prepare for landing. The whine of technology, lights and generators primarily, signaled the beginning of the night cycle just before the group hit the platform. Jaime twisted the cord, sending the team around the connector beam and eye level with the platform. She let go of the impromptu vehicle and curled into a ball around the black case she held in her free hand. Her limbs ached from the hours of being pulled along, and she was sure the others were feeling it too. Aside from the initial jolt, the cord didn’t exert any force on the travelers. But they still needed to keep a firm grasp on the hooks, lest they drift away. Jaime’s only consolation was the thought that the way back would be easier, if everything went right. She just needed to make sure they could make it back safely.

As she passed through the grid separating the hemisphere from the rest of Hasis, Jaime suddenly experienced the full force of the gravity pumps kicking in. She arched over the edge of the ‘sphere, hit the floor panels, and skidded a few feet before eventually rolling to a stop. Jackson and Panda soon followed suit, nearly colliding with her. Pushing Jackson aside, Jaime got up and dusted herself off before helping Panda to his feet. She silently motioned for her teammates to follow as she pressed herself against nearest wall. They did so, with Panda pressing against the metal with both hands.

Jaime clicked off her helmet as she watched, revealing the bandanna she was using to cover her mouth. With any luck, it would only serve to dampen her radio talk. In the worst-case scenario it would keep her identity secret during a chase. Kaz had been understandably hesitant to let her go on this mission, considering her recent interactions with the SFOs and Jackson’s vocal objections. She had laughed, reminding both of them that she was the only one for the job. Kaz had eventually relented with this sole stipulation. She adjusted the bandanna for comfort, then waved at Panda.

“Where’s your door, Panda? I don’t like sitting in the open like this.”

The older man flicked off his own helm, flashing her a gap-toothed smile. “Patience, Bones. Almost there.” He slid a hand across a panel, revealing a small backlit terminal. He starting pressing numbers on the archaic keypad until the panel opened farther. He motioned to the others, who quickly slid inside. Jaime paused on the other side of the threshold.

“That was a hell of a lot easier than I thought.”

Panda shrugged a reply. “Not many of these comm guys are old enough to remember the panels exist, let alone the passwords. But we can rehash the finer points of the ignorant generation later. You’ve got a show to catch. Remember the pattern?” She nodded.

“Yeah, got it. Thanks, Panda. See you back at base. Oh, and stay safe.”

“You too, Bones.” He hit a button on the terminal and the door slid shut. His part was complete, assuming everything went well. He would wait until he received their signal before retracting the safety line he had been carrying thus far. Inside the now-closed paneling, Jaime turned to see Jackson waiting impatiently. He snorted in derision.

“The longer we wait, the faster we get got. Move yer ass, woman.” He hefted a sharpened hunk of metal in one hand, likely scavenged from a loose panel back home, that he used to motion down the hallway. His eyebrow twitched in poorly-disguised interest at his mention of her posterior. She ignored his advances, as always, and started to run softly down the hallway. She could practically feel his glare as he followed close behind.

Jaime had long since memorized the layout of the communication tower, but the maze-like hallways still threatened to turn her around. Every hallway looked eerily similar; drab grey walls broken only by the occasional door and exposed piping. With only a few false starts, she managed to lead them up to the primary communication array’s control room. True to Panda’s intel, two guards stood motionless outside the door. She held out a hand, silently telling Jackson to wait back. As she did, she assumed a sprinting stance and mentally prepared herself for the coming altercation.

The guards never had much chance against the freedom fighter. Jaime had started the encounter running at full tilt around the corner. As she neared the duo, she used the exposed pipes as a springboard, taking the fight airborne. The first guard saw her approaching, but couldn’t react fast enough to save his partner from a swift kick to the side of the face. Jaime landed with a flourish, planting the black case she held into the first guard’s gut before kicking his feet out from under him. The second guard, more durable than she had given him credit for, caught his balance from the unexpected boot to the cheek. He turned to retaliate against the surprise attack, but was once again caught off-guard from Jaime’s vicious follow-up assault. She had retained her momentum, releasing the case and ducking down under any defense the second sentinel might have put up. He wasn’t fast enough to even try, though, as Jaime planted an open-palm strike under his chin. As he reeled backwards from the blow, she spun and hooked a foot on the back of his knees. The guard tipped backwards even further, placing him in the perfect position for her final move. As the guard started to collapse, Jaime placed her free hand on his forehead, slamming it to the floor with a soft yet unmistakable crunch. The poor sentinel was out cold before he could have even muttered a word. Jaime stood, suddenly remembering the first guard. He too was crumpled on the floor, though clearly not by her hand. Jackson stood above the body, a red smear on the side of his makeshift machete.

“Is he dead?” She wasn’t truly worried about the life of an enemy combatant, but it was still important information. Murder was a far more heinous crime than the other activities they had planned for the night, and she hoped to avoid killing anyone if possible. Jackson shrugged, passing her back the case.

“I hit ‘em with the flat part, if it makes ya feel betteh.” She shook her head. Jackson was insufferable at times, but his ruthlessness made him one of the best scrappers in the force, next to Kaz and Jaime. He could probably take even take Jaime in a fair fight, if she was stupid enough to allow it. She nodded in acknowledgement for his help.

“Panda was right, once again. These guys had no idea how to guard a door. If all of the siffies were this pathetic, we could just walk up to Atra with no questions asked. You mind?” She motioned to the body of the first guard, and Jackson rolled his eyes. He leaned over, grabbing the guard by his collar. Picking up the limp body with one hand, Jackson held it up to the door. The security door’s scanner beeped, identified the soldier, and slid open the door with the sound of hydraulics. Jackson let the guard crumple to the floor as he entered the room. The three communications technicians working therein froze in fear, allowing the freedom fighter an opportunity that he couldn’t bear to pass up.

“Aight, fuckers. Listen up. If any of you asshats so much as touch a button without tha express permission of myself or my associate here, ya’ll lose the hand it’s attached ta. If you make a peep, I’ll take ya fuckin’ tongue back with me as a souvenir. If ya play nice, and listen to tha lovely lady, you might just survive with your limbs all accounted fer.” Jackson couldn’t have delivered his ultimatum with a straight face, so he wore a particularly intimidating sneer.

Jaime walked in with confidence radiating as she tried her best to ignore Jackson’s belligerent ramblings. She pointed to the nearest technician. “You. Bring up an emergency all-frequencies broadcast as fast as you can.” He started to protest, but she quickly cut him off. “I only ask once. Then my friend here starts asking, and he’s not as nice.” The tech’s eyes drifted to Jackson, who was dragging his tongue across the back of his machete menacingly. The technician immediately turned to the console, wasting no time in following Jaime’s orders. She turned to the next technician, glad that her bandanna hid the smile spreading across her face. Jackson was playing the lunatic far too well. She tossed the case to the second technician. “I need you to send that file to every unemployed person on Hasis. Preferably everyone above the age of 15, but I’m not picky.”

The technician blinked, but otherwise remained motionless. “Uh, miss? How exactly would I..?”

She rolled her eyes. Panda had been right about the ignorance surrounding this place. His foresight and wisdom bordered on premonition, some days. “Send it as a personal missive, and send it planet-wide. Be sure to run a search and take off anyone with a registered job. THEN eliminate all remaining results that have 15 or fewer years of life. How do you even manage up here?”

The technician was still immobile. “What about those without usernames?”

Jaime let out an exasperated sigh. “Well if they don’t have a username, they’re probably already on our fucking side, aren’t they? Just load it, dumbass. I’ll tell you when to hit send. Last up,” she turned to the final worker, “is you. You’re gonna help us get our five minutes of fame.” He nodded, picking up a nearby camera. Jaime smiled approvingly. This one was refreshingly cognitive. Jackson approached the first tech, dragging his weapon behind him for dramatic effect. He stopped behind the already-nervous tech, likely to watch the man squirm.

“Ev’ryone ready? We need ta get this goin.” Jackson’s free hand came to rest on the Tech’s shoulder in what would be, in any other situation, a reassuring gesture. Jaime, across the room, nodded her agreement. As she looked out across the room, each technician gave either a thumbs-up or the equivalent. Jaime walked to the nearest filming wall, motioning for Tech number three to start filming. The light immediately came on in response. Jaime’s speech held the confidence of her conviction paired with hours of rehearsal.

“Hello, citizens of Hasis. You probably don’t know who we are, but that’s not important. What is important is that I’ve come a long way to share some critical information with you, as a sort of courtesy call. In the spirit of brevity, I’ll just jump right to it: Hasis is dead.

“Not dead in the physical sense, of course. The core is still burning bright, the collectors are still gathering their packets of energy, and the cogs are still turning just as easily as ever. But spiritually – internally – Hasis is just as dead as most of you. This glorious planet is a technological marvel; it was created by our forefathers through interdependence and a hell of a lot of hard work. They were forced to rely on each other for food, warmth, companionship, air, and basic human interaction. James Atra, the pioneer and legend, assumed the mantle of humanity’s savior. He even wore it well. But he wore it too long, and we became dependent on him rather than each other.

“Unfortunately, it only took his passing to ruin all of his hard work. Atra Corporation, the monstrosity he left to us as a legacy, became the source of our supposed salvation. Our food arrives by the handful, each pill bearing their icon. Our currency flows freely, as long as their emblem remains emblazoned on the side. Our companions are assigned, our jobs pre-planned, and our lives forfeited for the sake of comfort. And while this comfort lulls many of you into that final sleep, your brothers and sisters are cast aside into the cold. They starve. They freeze. They are ripped apart by the stigma that Atra Corporation has placed on them. And although their bones litter the ground outside Atra’s doorstep, their blood rests solely on your hands for watching so passively.

“But it’s okay. Some of your brothers and sisters survived, and they forgive you for all that you’ve done. Your transgressions pale when set beside those of Atra. It is their negligence and cruelty to which we claim offense. As such, we will take our reparations by force. For every ounce of innocent blood they have spilled to oil their gears, we will take a pound of flesh. The very foundations that this sick society has come to rely on will come crashing down around its ears, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.

“So join us, instead. Prepare for the eventuality that we promise.” She nodded to the second technician, who finished the task he was assigned. “Even now, the weakest of you are receiving the message. The downtrodden, outcast, and persecuted have been given the call. Pick up the tools of your former lives, friends, and we will tear Atra asunder, plate by damned plate. We will rise, together. We will survive, together. And we will bring life back to Hasis… together.” She stepped off the platform as the technician signaled the all-clear. Jackson nodded.

“Not bad, Bones, but we need to get tha hell out. SFOs’re probably already knockin’ on our front door.” As if answering his fears, the shouts of a strike force clearing the hall greeted their ears. Jackson turned, slamming the butt of his weapon against the panic button on the desk. The technician flinched from the movement, causing Jackson to laugh. The room flooded in red lights and the doorway immediately sealed itself. Jaime pointed at their hostages.

“You three get against the wall. If you fake head injuries, you can tell the siffies that we knocked you out because you resisted. Or, if you prefer, we can make it look more believable…” The technicians looked at each other for only a moment before they fled to the far side of the control room.

Jackson shook his head. “Ya’ll are no fun.” He stood up on the desk, reaching up to pull down a fairly well-hidden ladder. The fire hatch looked as if it hadn’t been used in centuries, if at all. Jackson motioned to the ladder, inviting Jaime to go first as pounding began to emanate from the doorway. She nearly refused, knowing full well he’d take the opportunity to stare blatantly, but didn’t have time to argue. She ascended as fast as she could, pushing the panel at the top open to reveal Atra Corporation floating miles above them. She reached back, yanking Jackson up only moments before pulling the ladder back into the hidden position. She could hear the control room’s door bursting open as she closed the hatch. It would be at least a few precious minutes before they figured out where the ‘terrorists’ had fled to. Jaime glanced at Jackson who was already peering over the side of the roof.

“Well, Jackson?”

Her companion’s focus never wavered. Maybe she had been wrong about the staring. “Looks like they left us tha bird, just like Kaz guessed. I think they even left ‘er with only the pilot ta guard. Should be easy pickins.”

She exhaled in relief, realizing that she had been holding her breath. “Then what are you waiting for? Let’s give our friend a surprise.” The two leapt from the building, rolling forward as they landed to absorb the shock of impact. Jackson got to his feet first, closing the distance to the parked sloop in a matter of seconds. Jaime circled around to the pilot’s side, flanking him. Jackson, being the first to reach the sloop, was also the first to see the pistol in the pilot’s hand. All Jaime saw was a flash of light and Jackson’s head snap back as he fell backwards out of the vehicle. She screamed his name as she took on a new burst of speed.

“You bastard!” Reaching the vehicle’s driver side hatch, she leaned in and grabbed the pilot by the helmet in one fluid motion. She pulled him halfway out of the sloop, sideways, using her weight as leverage. The pilot flailed, trying to bring the pistol to bear, but finding himself unable to react as quickly as Bones could. As he was ripped from his seat, the pilot dropped the pistol to the floor of the sloop with a clatter. Finishing the maneuver, Jaime drove the pilot to the ground with her elbow in his neck, undoubtedly crushing his windpipe. As the pilot futilely gasped for air, Jaime got to her feet. The pilot, fear and pain in his eyes, stared up at his killer. One powerful kick to the side of the pilot’s face left his head resting at an unnatural angle, no longer able to stare so disbelievingly. Jaime resisted remaining over him, knowing full well that she didn’t have the time to watch as the light faded from his eyes - despite how much she’d love to. Blinking back tears, she walked around the sloop to Jackson’s body. He was sprawled on his back, the makeshift machete lying discarded on the ground near his head.

“…Jackson…” As she walked up to him, Jaime tried not to focus on a wound, yet couldn’t help but notice the blood smattered on the ground. It was almost like a sick halo. Jackson’s eyes remained wide open, and seemed to be burning holes into her. It took her more than a moment to realize they were even following her movements.

“Ya mind helpin’ me up, love? I think that fucker blew off my ear.”

Jaime stopped dead in her tracks as the scene finally processed. “Don’t fucking scare me like that, you piece of shit!”

Jackson sat up, his left hand pressed tight to the bloody stump that was formerly his ear. He pantomimed a ‘What?’ as he used his free hand to point at his good ear. She resisted kicking the wounded warrior, trying desperately to get her heart to slow down the cadence it was pounding. She walked briskly back around the sloop, gingerly stepping over the fresh corpse and into the chair.

“Get in, before I leave your ass.”

Jackson retrieved his discarded weapon before getting into the passenger seat. “Still can’t hear ya, Bones. Mind speakin’ up?”

Jaime didn’t reply as she commenced lifting off. For the second time that day, she was happy for the bandanna that was hiding her smile.