Chapter 13 Need some Exposition?

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Practically speaking, Jessica had received a VIP all-access pass within Sub Terra HQ but was advised not to disturb busy personnel. She took the advisement under partial consideration.  Pouring over the cave in her mind, she became giddy with every additional mystery in sight. That enthusiasm crashed every time someone opened the door to the shooting range. If not for the dampener glass, no one would have slept. As for the weapons tested, from the laser-like projectiles, she assumed they were magnetic.

Between a series of crates, the vigilant teenager eventually took Valerie aside. "I'm kinda sorry for doubting you, on the way here," she drawled. "I thought it was a calculated risk letting you lead us here, but I was pretty wrong."

Valerie crossed her arms. "You apologizing is weird, so don't worry about it. Even I wasn't sure what to expect; but we're here, not dead yet, and that's all that matters."

"Agreed," said Shannon, trudging up to them. "What I would like to know, Val, is when the hell did you join this crew? Did you fill out a  résumé or what?"

"One day, I needed money," she groaned. "Go figure. This job came my way through a cousin—mine so long as I didn't ask questions. When it paid well, I decided to keep it going, you know? I traded packages in New Sumer and kept it on the down-low before this uptight Azarean comes up to me and asks what I have in my suitcase. I wanted to be honest and say, 'I don't know.' But honesty is stupid, so I said it was marijuana for a clinic—"

"The short version, Val."

"Fine... I get caught. Toma: A Sub Terra agent saves me and tells me the truth about what's in the suitcase. Guess he felt obligated, maybe a little guilty, 'cause then he told me about the whole thing: Sub Terra, the cells, their purpose. At first, I didn't care, like, at all. The more I thought about it, I realized Goliath and The Union were really up to some shit. I started to believe in what I was doing, so I kept workin' it."

Slowly, Shannon nodded. "Okay, you know what? That's cool. I was afraid you were an anarchist for a while. Or worse, a piece of sheep."

"Anarchy is a theoretical status quo whose self-negation is evidenced by its inability to have a historical impact," Jessica rejoined. "But if you're a sheep, you essentially lack personality and buy VI's and games that other people buy even if they're crap."

"I agree, but that's not the point, Jess."

"Thinking out loud."

Their side-quest into the hangar surrounded them with more rock and shadow. Its concrete surface held the wheels of aircraft, several unique engines, all of them from decades past yet impossibly new. Elsewhere on the grounds lay a series of barracks neatly set in a row, each and every one of them with the same insignia. On uniforms, on banners, everywhere, a fist rising from the planet Earth. "It's definitely gripping." Jess tried not to giggle at her own joke. 

One road across the cavern connected the jet hangar and barracks. Both ends terminated at magnificent metal doors, which could have led to the sky or deeper underground. Every damn observation tallied Jessica's mind with a new question.

"Where the hell did all this come from?" she whined then pointed at the nearest stranger, a young Asian man in blue coveralls. He gawked from beneath the beak of a black fuselage. "You! Where, the hell, did all this come from? Tell me right now."

The young man flinched. "You need some exposition?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"You're new," he remarked at her approach. "Are you the guys—gals that brought that creepy recording? Cuz I really hope it gets us somewhere."

"Yes." Valerie winked. "We came with gifts in the form of criminal evidence, black ops crap, and charm."

"In that order," said Shannon.

"That's hardcore," said the young man. "I'm Chris, by the way. Tsushimoto. Friends call me Sushi."

Jessica laughed. "NO, they don't..."

He shyly chuckled next to her. "That's exactly why."

 "Well, Chris, my name is Jessica Leibniz, but my friends call me Jess. It's not as appetizing."

"I'm Shannon."

"And you're Wildcat," finished Chris, pointing over Jessica. 

"Does my reputation proceed me or something?" said Valerie.

"Something like that, but you have questions?"

"Yes!" Jessica rejoined. "For starters, I want to know if the 1990s called to ask for their junk back."

Chris snickered "After the 'invasion'"—signing quotes with his fingers—"trillions of dollars of military armament was decommissioned across the world. The whole world. You have to understand, friends, killing was a business back in the day. It was hella good. Super good. Why stop just because it's the end of the world?"

"Doesn't make good business sense," Jess added.

"Exactly! Gun pushers needed steady clientele once governments went under. So, who did they go to?"

"Underground rebels," said Shannon. "Nick Cage got it right."

"Exactly!" Chris grinned. "You guys are smart."

"Either they sold to rebels or they sold to gun nuts," said Jess. "Also militia, army wannabes, cults, extremists, and synonyms."

"Anything not in a museum was scrapped or sold to someone who could afford a crazy hobby, so long as the dealer didn't get caught. And you'd be surprised – Compared to today, the 21st century was one huge ammo dump. No proper recycle bins or bots. It's why people still stumble across old weapon caches. 

"However, comma, you won't stumble across anything nuclear, thanks to the Fallout Directive. 5% of Russia looks like Chernobyl, thanks to the Azareans and the government's own naivety."

Jessica eyed Chris. "You're telling me things I've already explained to other people, Sushi."

"I get ahead of myself."

"So, you just found this old plane lying around?" Shannon said, pointing at the black metal machine.

"Yea! Can you believe this used to be the most terrifying thing in the sky? Now..." Chris drifted, chin downturned broodily.

"Alright, explain something," rejoined Jess, eager to get him back on track. "What's the point of this vintage scrap? You've got Azarean radar in every direction, which doesn't exactly leave room for recreational aeronautics. If you fly, space elves will follow. So, have any of these been retro-fitted with omni-signature reflection?"

"Not yet." Chris tongued his cheek. "But, imagine if we needed them and never had them? That's the brass' excuse, at least. This model is a viable scout. They can fly in the Old World, and there's no other way to get eyes in the sky unless Dissent, somehow, hacks a satellite. As for the rest of these..."

While Chris spoke, Jessica's gaze stung him with its signature intensity. Despite the confidence in his voice, he wore skepticism on his sleeve. Her eyes chipped away at that confidence without either of them realizing. 

"The Azareans did catch us, once," he said. "Their fighter—Coursers we call them—shot down a Sub Terra plane on the west coast. Good pilots are hard to recruit. Anyway, Azarean Courser that got Rick was recorded at Mach 7." 

Jessica's brow lifted in perplexity. "That's—"

"Not even possible, right? At that speed, kinetic force—the wind—would crumple the hull. Thing is, Coursers have a membrane, some kind of shield that's invisible unless under extreme stress. You see the shield light up at Mach 7 and beyond. It looks like a bubble on fire."

Shannon leaned against the nearby crates. "Hey, Chris," she started. "You say that like you were there. You a pilot?"

"He is a pilot and engineer," Jessica said confidently.

"Mechanic," Chris humbly corrected. "I make sure this 'scrap,' as you call it, keeps working, even if they're outdated. Gives me something to do."

Valerie leaned a little closer. "What happened to the jet pilot and the Azarean ship?"

"Killed himself before crashing," he slurred in the attempt to sound casual, "but he knew the risk."

Jessica feigned surprise. "What would you do with an Azarean Courser if you got your hands into one?"

"Got me. Sure, it's a machine that flies, but what I know is still barebones when it comes to aviation. Not that I would mind digging into the engine, or whatever powers them. At least I'd get to see how they defy physics."

"Whelp, I hope to see one eventually!" Jessica crossed her arms and leaned closer. "One that's grounded, obviously."

"Yea, me too..."

"Now, I've gotta see this computer geek Monarch mentioned."

"Just use your nerd radar," said Valerie. 

Chris laughed.

"See you around Chris." Jessica waved off their new acquaintance and proceeded to the nearby block of terminals. 

"Remember to stay in the dark," he said with a salute.

Over by the terminals, Jessica obliviously speed-walked to a series of motherboards just waiting for inspection. The rigs displayed a clash of old-school and modern gadgetry. With no one around to stop her, she crouched and took the liberty of opening the closest tower. She tried. The hatch was screwed tight.

"What is this setup?" she whined, standing upright. "This thing looks pre-millennial 70s. Anybody got a screwdriver? Anybody know what that is? It's exactly what it sounds like."

"Shiiiit." Shannon froze. "She found the computers. Quick! Stuff food in her mouth before she gets technical."

Jessica was already walking circles around the terminals, among which a user slept face down. She leaned over the slumbering stranger, to discover a game onscreen. 

"Hey, it's Half-Life 3!"

"You always dive through people's things?" someone belittled.

She turned her neck to assign a face, then found her own glaring reflection in a pair of shades, followed by tapering red hair, sideburns, and pasty whiteness. A complexion complemented by a black fedora. "Amon..."

Amon stood several feet behind her, hands on his hips, chest puffed. The lack of a mechanic's jumpsuit disappointed her. Instead, he donned black, rolled-up sleeves and a bullet-proof vest. None of it mattered, however, since he still wore sunglasses indoors.

"Don't worry about me," Jess mocked. "I'm just checking the heating."

"I don't go to your home and... Hmph." Amon averted his gaze. 

The girl smiled diabolically. Though surprised to see the cocky redhead, she wasn't too surprised. Someone employed him; Sub Terra would have been a sound guess. But another question took a bite of her thoughts. "It was you who sent me the warning from Ghost Wire, wasn't it? You knew the Azareans would come sniffing around my apartment."

Within a pregnant silence, Amon removed his glasses and revealed eyes of pristine blue. Though the gesture made him look cool, Jessica refused to admit it. 

"Yes, I sent you the warning," he answered haughtily. "Believe it or not, I didn't think I'd see you here. Eventually, sure. Not tonight."

"Alright. Let's get this out of the way, Red. Three questions: How did you know they'd be coming? Why did you help? And what are you doing here?"

"I'll take your three questions and give one answer. Big alien brother is a bit of a mystery, but no one would benefit if they got their hands on you."

"You need me for something..." Before Jessica could squint any harder, Shannon crept closer and offered Amon a hand.

"Whattup man?" she greeted.

Jessica broke from the middle of their staring contest, and Amon's freckles, to turn her neck. "Shannon, this is one of those Black Hats I mentioned."

"Oh. Whattup, Cracker."

"Derogatory slang is refreshing," said Amon, copying Shannon's grin. "I'm not a stickler for this type of thing but a thank you would've said more with less, Lynx."

Jessica sighed then smeared her tired eyes with the regret of her cold hands. "So, you're calling the 'thank you' card, huh. Fine. Thank you, Amon, for what it's worth, even though I'm sure that's not your real name."

"My name is Cracker." Amon turned to Valerie, who had been silently gawking at him the entire time. "Are you going to ask, or are you just going to stare?"

"Is that your natural hair color?" Valerie pointed.

"Yes."

Jessica scratched her head. "About that..."

"Can I touch it?" said Valerie.

Like Shannon, Jessica rolled her eyes the moment Amon rubbed his chin to actually consider Valerie's question. She peered at Homegirl in disbelief, until Amon gave his answer. "Fine." He removed his hat.

Valerie lifted and twiddled her fingers through Amon's sexy red hair, causing Jess and Shannon to cringe. "Okay, that's enough," he said. Valerie removed her hand and Amon replaced his hat. "I have something for you."

"Aren't redheads supposed to be extinct?" Shannon interrupted

"I don't have time to tell a long story, right now. But it relates to why I'm here, and I'm not the only one." He put his glasses back on. "That rig you were trying to steal into, Lynx, it's a vintage shell over alien tech. Pretty old alien tech, but it still works wonders, unlike most of what you'll find up top."

Finally. Jessica was desperately curious about Sub Terra's technology. One way to find anything comparable to alien tech, assemble components from scratch. And even then, finding the right components was extremely difficult. Alien goods hardly mixed with retail, which is why its presence in rebel hands surprised her. Then again, the black market was always the outlaw's luxury. 

"There you go with that name again," exclaimed Shannon. "Who the hell is Lynx, Jess?"

"It's my moniker," she said defensively. "It's a good idea to have one if you're a netrunner, if you dig through cyberspace, consenting or otherwise."

"Why Lynx?"

"I just thought it worked..." Jessica felt tired from talking, tired period. Moreover, the concern in Shannon's voice was not lost on her, but she moved past the impulse to apologize. "We were talking about alien tech."

"The first time it was used on Earth, it wiped our wi-fi," Amon said humorlessly. "The rest is history."

"It was you Monarch wanted me to meet, wasn't it?" 

Amon returned a blank stare, so Jessica grabbed her goggles. "Pull up recent photos, Babel." Promptly, the lenses projected a hologram reel of her most recent snapshots. She swiped left until she found Malvis. Amon was stiff.

"Where did you meet him?"

"At Goliath."

"How did you get that close?"

"What can you tell me about him?"

Again, the redhead removed his glasses. His eyes shared the intensity of his voice. "He's been working for—or with—Goliath. To be determined. I can tell you, from personal experience, he is not an elf you wanna get involved with unless it's from behind a computer."

"Too late," said Jessica, revealing her white flash drive. "Thanks to him, we have unadulterated access to Goliath if we can get inside."

"How the hell—"

"I already told the story, and unlike you, I don't like retelling things. Your big boss, Mmmonarch, he wanted you, specifically, to have a copy of the data."

Amon grinned and slowly broke into a laugh. "You just did half the work! I just hope it was easy because the next step won't be."

"And what is the next step?" said Shannon, exasperated.

"We'll get into it soon."

"You never told me what you do with your processors," rejoined Jessica. "That alien TPU in your motherboards must be good for something."

"In a nutshell, we keep the government guessing. We need channels to the surface, legends for agents and"—he turned his head at Valerie—"if our couriers aren't enough, we communicate directly with our undercover contacts. Which requires top-notch encryption, which occasionally means meddling with civilization, which means complex algorithms that can play against Azarean code. It takes effort just to stay one step behind."

Rolling between Shannon and Valerie, Jessica found them both on the verge of migraines. Shyly touching her shoes together, she proceeded with a question. "So... Who operates and handles cyberspace? I assume you have more than script kiddies."

Amon plucked the flash drive from Jessica's fingers, glasses collapsing over his eyes. "Follow me."

Interest piqued, Jess chipperly followed Amon's lead. It was a brisk walk to a gigantic tent situated against the rocky foundation of the HQ. Outside stood several members of the motley crew from the meeting with Monarch, the same inquisitive minds that played 21-questions after her Goliath story. They shot glances in passing. To her relief, theirs were friendly faces, signs of approval. Then Amon stopped at the tent's flap entrance

"Is this a lair within a lair?" said Jessica.

"More like a den," said Amon, holding open the flap. "But this one doesn't exactly belong to Sub Terra."

"Then where have you led us?" said Shannon.

"Dissent."

The hell does that even mean? 

Jessica glanced at each of her friends, whose eyes reflected hesitation, then wandered to the collective behind them. A colorful multitude of men and women, full of every kind of attitude yet, together, formed a potential mound of intelligence. With nothing to lose, she took the first step inside the tent.

"I'm becoming claustrophobic," she whispered. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the earthy walls of a thin corridor before neon green light shone across the interior. The mystical light source blossomed over wires and screens, a prism of them packed together. They preceded a husky, feminine voice that rambled. Part soft, part sinister.

"Wherever the Devil roams is cold."

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