For the first time, Enoa watched the high desert landscape from the sky. The terrain was flatter than around Littlefield and the Crystal Dune Forest, a great dusty plateau, unchanging until it met the foothills of the still-snowcapped mountains.

Enoa sat between Orson and Jaleel in The Hof’s cockpit. With Dr. Stan, they filled the four swivel seats angled behind Franklin. Teddy, April, and Cathy sat on the opposite side, behind Royce.

The cockpit had a sleek new-car aesthetic, mostly black and silver, like the ship’s outer hull. Each passenger seat featured adjustable comfort settings and backlit touchscreen and 3-D holographic displays, giving altitude, geographical, and other information about their current position.

“Okay.” Franklin turned his chair back to face his guests. “Cathy, we should be over your place in ten minutes. If there are more of those Jims down there, we’ll see them, unless they’re using no power at all. Now, you’re sure your people won’t be taking any potshots at us?”

“By then,” Cathy said. “I will be in hailing distance for my direct comm.” She still wore her helmet. “They won’t fire on us.”

Enoa watched the growing mountains and their destination, a thin ravine at their roots, a natural protected space with sheer, rock walls and access to both eastern and western sides of the mountains.

“I want to clear the air,” Royce suddenly said. “I’m onto your little hoax, Franklin. I know you’re hoaxing me with this Aesir story, this Orson helped you guys save the world story.”

“Royce, what the hell are you talking about?” Franklin asked. “What’s your issue with the Aesir? You act like it’s this ridiculous idea while we sit here in our own flying ship.”

“It’s me, Franklin,” Orson said. “He knows. It’s true, Royce. My real name is Jeff. I’m an actor Franklin hired ten years ago. Please help me. They’ve put me in terrible danger.”

“Oh,” Jaleel said. “He thinks you’re like Ben Kingsley in Iron Man Three.”

“No!” Royce said. “No. It’s not that I think you’re not real, Orson, or I think the Aesir isn’t real. But I know when something doesn’t make sense. And I know you, Franklin. I know how you and Wayne enjoy your little pranks. You would hoax me. You’ve hoaxed me before. You would build up your friend into this legend on some kind of lark.”

“What are you saying, man?” Teddy asked. “I followed no more than a third of that.”

“I’m saying,” Royce said. “Something doesn’t fit. Some part of Orson’s story was embellished. I can’t put my finger on where, but something doesn’t sit right.”

“Royce, there are pictures of us with Orson,” Franklin said. “We have lots of them on the main computer. You can see all our old crew at Evergreen and most of us in the Enigma Guard group shot. I don’t know what you don’t understand, but it’s all real, and it’s all right there.”

“Group shot?” Orson asked.

“Franklin, the Enigma Guard one’s a really bad example,” Teddy said. “We did edit him into that one. Orson, you flew off into the sunset before we thought to do a photo. There were fancy portraits of the other two Enigma Guard generations, man, so we had to have one of us. But a lot of us already left Norlenheim, so we edited everybody else in. But don’t worry. You have your whole costume on, buddy. You look good.”

“See!” Royce yelled. “This is what I’m talking about. There are hoaxes going on everywhere. Franklin, it’s just like what you and Wayne pulled with the statue at that chateau.”

“Don’t start with me and that chateau shit again,” Franklin said.

“You made them doubt reality, and you’re doing it to me,” Royce said. “You’re a gaslighter. You gaslight.”

“Okay, so the Enigma Guard group shot was edited,” Franklin said. “It’s still a correct, uh, representation. What don’t you believe? You heard how the Liberty Corps is after Orson. Do you think he doesn’t really do anything and they’ve got the wrong guy, or do you think he isn’t really our friend?”

“How would you edit me into the picture with all my gear?” Orson asked. “I almost never wore this stuff until that day.”

“We got security camera footage of you flipping the bird to the Thunderworks Supreme Commander,” Franklin said. “And we edited that into the picture. It’s really great.”

“How have I never seen this?” Orson asked.

“There’s gaslighting happening here,” Royce said. “I’m not trying to attack anyone, but it doesn’t all fit.”

“Listen,” Franklin said. “You don’t get more Orson than flipping off the guy who caused the end of our world.”

“Classic Orson, man,” Teddy added.

“Now you’re talking like I’m not here,” Orson said.

“Franklin, I am not the source of this problem,” Royce said. “You’ve admitted some of this is fake, so I’m just trying to find where exactly the lies start. I just don’t believe someone could have robbed the IHSA, been hunted by the Blitzkrieg, went from a total novice as a teenager to someone who can take on worlds-class fighters, fought Thunderworks, and did all that before twenty-five. And he dated Sirona for five years and left her to travel in your spaceship camper, so he was conveniently out of the picture. Sounds like a hoax to me. Some of it might be true, but there’s no way all of that happened to one person. Maybe there have been eight Orsons and when one got killed or retired, another one steps up. Except no, because one of them would still be back in Evergreen with Sirona.”

“I’m having an eventful life,” Orson said.

“Editing a picture isn’t hoaxing,” Franklin laughed. “That’s no proof of hoaxing. Your G-Man days have you paranoid, Royce.”

“Carlos Albir also thought Orson might be made-up before he met him,” Jaleel said.

“Oh no!” April groaned. “Don’t encourage this, Jaleel.”

“Yeah, Jaleel,” Orson said. “Don’t add to this. It’ll turn out there’s all this blurry photographic evidence of me, like bigfoot.”

“Actually, Orson,” Dr. Stan said. “Visual evidence of uncatalogued species has increased dramatically in the last decade. I believe in a better climate for scientific investigation, without the IHSA’s immense secrecy, many currently undiscovered organisms, like the Sasquatch, could very quickly be documented.”

“Woah, I hope so,” Teddy said. “That would be rad. I have my money on them being a Neanderthal hybrid.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Orson said. “Everything else is real. Except me, apparently.”

“You’re a legend, Boss,” Jaleel said. “And you like being hyped. Don’t lie. And it’s good for Enoa and me too if you’re a legend. It helps build up our careers. Legend is contagious.”

“I’m really happy with the career I have,” Enoa said. “Leave me out of this. When my year is over, I’m rebuilding my store and going back to my life.”

“Orson a boss?” Franklin said. “Now I really do feel old. I still remember when he was first learning to fight. And yes, Royce, he did get good in about half-a-decade. Anyway, Orson had this old metal sword then, before he got the sword of fire, and he’d wave that thing around like a baseball bat. But good on you, Jaleel. It’s never too early to think about your resume. My Aesir days are how I landed this ship and this gig.”

“I’ve made contact.” Cathy said. “Our perimeter defenses destroyed a walking party of Groom Lake Neighborhood Watchmen. No other sign, so far.”

“Great.” Franklin took the ship toward the ravine ahead of them. He did not fly between the rock walls. He stayed above them and cut the ship’s speed, drifting along the mountain shoulders, looking down. “Once we get there, once we know everything’s secure, we’ll make sure Cathy’s people can see those Jims when they move and then, if they want the help, we’ll fan out and check the whole community.”

“Yes!” Teddy yelled. “Aesir crews old and new, unite! Franklin, the next generation is great! Jaleel is an actual genius, man. And you should see the kinda stuff Enoa, here, can do. She could actually feel those robots bopping around in the snow. She’s gonna be one of the greats.”

“A new Aesir crew!” Franklin said. “That boat needs more than just Orson flying in it. When did you decide to recruit a crew?”

“They found me,” Orson said. “I’ve never done any recruiting.”

“You haven’t had any other crews, right?” Franklin asked.

“Right,” Orson said. “There’ve been a couple recurring travelers who helped me, but nothing formal. Jaleel’s actually under contract.”

“Is that right?” Franklin nodded. “He must be the most official person ever to crew that boat.”

“Really?” Jaleel reached across Enoa and grabbed Orson by the coat sleeve. “I want a nametag. ‘Jaleel – the official Aesir crewman’. I’ll wear it everywhere and be legendary.”

“We’re coming up on it,” Franklin said. “We’re definitely good and won’t be getting shot at?” Ahead, at a high point of the ravine, nearly one hundred buildings were clustered, mostly one story, ranch-style, all grouped around a handful of large prefabricated structures. Two of the latter were almost warehouse size. Enoa saw no sign of weaponry, no sign of any life. She saw no vehicles on the road, but it was still too distant to see people.

“We can approach,” Cathy said. “Violet pinged me, so we’re fine. I’ll guide you to my home. Levi and our sons are safe, but I want to take them to the council chambers. Council was moved to their emergency residences once we sounded the alarm, when the Liberation Front betrayed us. We’ll see if we can fit everyone into the council chambers until we know the threat is passed.”

“Alright,” Franklin said. “I think I have your home location on the map.”

“Should I turn on the motion-scanning?” Royce asked. “The androids’ cloaking shields might keep them invisible even in daylight.”

“Good idea,” Franklin said. “Use the radar scrambler. Keep it random. If they’re out there we don’t need them getting spooked.” Cathy stood from her seat and walked closer to the windshield. “We’re almost there.”

Enoa pulled the staff from her belt. She reached out to the motion in the air. She sensed the full scope of the Hof, a brick in the sky that had no right to fly. She sensed scattered birds and the whistle of the wind along the jagged lips of the ravine. She let the moving breeze draw a topographical map in her mind, slowly filling in the blank edges.

But her senses did not extend all the way to the ground, to the buildings, the people, or to any Groom Lake Neighborhood Watchmen who may be hiding among them.

“We detected a new hit,” Royce said. “It looks like one of the Jims’ carrier cylinders. It’s about two kilometers east of here, repulsors on.”

“Royce, are you alright to check that out with me?” Franklin asked. “Are you done having your breakdown?”

“We’ll finish that conversation later,” Royce said.

“Whatever,” Franklin said. “Cathy, how’s your parking situation? Do you have room for the Aesir down there?”

“We do,” she said.

“Great,” Franklin said. “Orson, can either of your crew fly the Aesir?”

“All we need is to land outside?” Jaleel said. “I can do that!”

“He can,” Orson said. “What do you have in mind, Franklin?”

“Jaleel will fly everybody but you, me, and Royce down to the surface. They get safe and make sure there’s nothing going down. We’ll be checking out that cylinder.”

“I can send my skimmer crew to you once our sweep is complete,” Cathy said.

“Works for me,” Orson said. “I’d like a chance to show I’m real.”

“Yes!” Teddy yelled. “Aesir crews unite, uh… Separately!”

* * *

Kol started the next day’s testing already exhausted, the results of his secret practice, holding his cell door unlocked. He felt a real tightness in his temples and twinges of electricity that arced down behind his eyes. Still, he summoned a new shield projection and repulsed the volley of slugs sent at him and at Max.

Kol’s discomfort would become pain in time. Then Sir Geber would see the exhaustion he’d hoped for.

“Increase to ten,” Sir Geber commanded. “Fire at will.”

“Yes, sir.” The tech ceased fire and switched clips. Kol watched the helmeted man. He knew the man’s speed at his business. There would be no further warning.

A faster slug, smaller and denser, struck Kol’s shield – dead center, aimed straight at Max’s face. Kol’s shield deflected the slug, sent it bouncing away and rolling down the inclined roof toward the distant fence.

But Kol felt the blow, felt it like it had broken his projection, struck his own face and split his skull in two.

Kol had no time to rest. Another slug struck the projection. And another. But by the fourth, Kol fell to his knees. He maintained his shield, but held his left hand to his temples, the flesh-and-blood fingers ice cold from the wind.

The cold roused him, a shock to his senses as the new chill sensation sent the pain and the fatigue to the back of his mind.

But it was not enough when the sixth and the seventh slugs struck the shield. By then Kol forced his entire body to tense, every muscle clenching, as if physically aiding his mind in the exertion.

“Enough,” Sir Geber said. “We resume in ten minutes.”

Kol squinted under his heavy eyelids, until he saw the vague shape of the projectile tech step back from his launcher. When he did, Kol released the shield, let the light fade away.

He collapsed onto his side, face against the freezing metal roof. The pain subsided from his forehead, but the twinges raced all along his body, down his arms and legs and spine.

“Kol,” Max said, his voice hoarse and scratchy. He coughed. “Kol, don’t do this for me.” Kol tried to look up at him, but the twinges raced back to his face, to his eye sockets and the roots of his hair.

“Does the cold disagree with you, Mr. Maros?” Sir Geber asked, as if Max had not spoken. “Are you wasting your strength protecting yourself from the wind? Or… is this another act?”

“No.” Kol forced himself back to his elbows. He looked at the Knight, made eye contact. Geber still held his helmet under his arm.

“No to which question?” Sir Geber asked.

“No to both,” Kol said.

The Knight donned his helmet. Its antennae turned toward Kol. Kol didn’t look away. He didn’t know what Geber could sense, what Geber hoped to sense.

“Pitiful,” Sir Geber said. “There’s only fight in you when endangered. Is this exercise not real enough? Is the danger to your brother not enough?”

“That isn’t…” Kol began.

“I am not finished speaking,” Sir Geber continued. “Once, before you betrayed us, you might have come here to train. You aren’t the only Shaper of the Third Mystery at the Pinnacle. But they are trained to fight. They aren’t traitors or test subjects. Still… perhaps it is time for you to meet. Perhaps they pose enough danger to motivate you.”

* * *

Orson’s HUD revealed the outline of the floating cylinder. It hovered crosswise at a narrow space along the ravine, blocking most of the road through the valley.

He stood on the Hof’s cargo lift, situated in the train’s rear compartment. Franklin and Royce worked at the other end of the section, removing charging headsets from ports in the wall.

Their headsets looked like a cross between classic night vision goggles and some eye doctor’s testing apparatus, with many movable, interchangeable lenses. They also wore tactical vests with long straps dangling from all sides and carried rifles that fit and connected to the vests’ straps. The rifles stood easily a meter in length, with multiple barrels.

“The new model thirty-three Incursion Cannons,” Franklin said. “And coordinating Heads Up Displays. Pops had a hell of a time getting these to us. The weight distribution is better too, but I don’t think the pinched nerve I got fighting those damn Striders will ever completely go away.”

“Pops still supplies you?” Orson asked. “I thought he stayed away from people on the official payroll.”

“Well.” Franklin adjusted the Incursion Cannon so it hung at his side, still supported across his entire torso. “For one thing, the Pacific Alliance signs the checks, but we’re still really liaisons with the Truce Organization.”

“Royce you know Pops too and…” Orson began.

“Are you kidding?” Royce interrupted. “Who doesn’t know Pops or know about him?” Orson stepped back on the lift to make room for Royce to join them. They stood together on the center of the platform, set into the middle of the floor.

“Do we have everything?” Franklin asked. He looked at them both. “Okay.” He tugged back his sleeve and pressed two fingers to a device on his wrist, like a watch with three backlit boxes along its band. “Here we go.”

Lights lit along a circle at the floor. Then the lift began to descend. Orson expected the feeling of falling, the brief drop that can be felt in some elevators. But the ride was smooth and the repulsor that lowered the lift was consistent with gravity.

The dusty, desert wind, still mixed with isolated snow whipped them in the face. Orson adjusted his bandana and closed his hood, tight against the gust. Franklin and Royce also wore flexible masks that extended from the tops of their jackets that connected to their sets of goggles.

Orson watched the floating cylinder. It had not moved since they’d arrived above the lip of the ravine. The consistent green light did not change. It did nothing to indicate any reaction to their arrival.

The lift touched down at a low shelf of the ravine, still a distance from the cylinder and at a higher elevation.

“Are we on the same comm channel?” Franklin asked. Orson heard him speak in his ears. “I still have your channel, right, Orson?”

“You do,” Orson answered. “Am I good?”

“Yeah, good.” Franklin nodded. “We have about a two hundred meters distance for our direct line before it’ll switch to another signal type, that our friend down there might pick up.”

“So what’s your plan?” Royce asked. When they stepped off he lift, he pressed at the circle with his hands. It ascended back toward their still-floating ship.

“I want to see what it does,” Franklin said. “Does the Liberty Corps communicate with these things? Does it know about all the other ones that we blew up? Old Hierarchia procedure would probably be to recall it.”

“Or send significantly more,” Royce said.

“The Hof will let us know if more are on their way,” Franklin said. “So I thought we’d watch this thing until we get the ‘all clear’ from Cathy or her folks, and then we give it a blast.” He crouched down at the edge of the rock shelf. Royce joined him there. Orson did the same. They were low enough that the rim of stone would hide them from most direct visual information the cylinder might be recoding.

“So it’s no big deal for you guys to be seen by the Liberty Corps?” Orson asked. “You won’t be in trouble with the Alliance? I act like it’s the old days. I forget that you’re respectable now.”

“Well,” Franklin said. “Technically…”

“Technically, our oversight team might not like it,” Royce said. “But they know Franklin bends the rules, and they knew it when they hired him. Unless we make a significant mistake, we’ll only face a scolding.”

“Yeah, I’m a good excuse,” Franklin said. “Let me get blamed. Even the Alliance needs to market, and it’s good marketing having a guy who flew the Aesir working with them.” He adjusted his headset. A pair of longer lenses lowered over his eyes. “And that makes it even stranger that somebody could think the Aesir and all that was a hoax.”

“Not again!” Royce said. “I never said the Aesir couldn’t exist. I never said it. But I would not be surprised if you and Wayne hoaxed every person on Earth.”

“Pops never mentioned the Aesir or me?” Orson asked.

“Royce only met Pops a couple times,” Franklin said. “Pops has his thing with G-Men, because y’know…” He trailed off and switched lenses again, switching to a shorter, wider pair. Royce did the same. “Yeah, I’m not seeing any changes. Looks like real standby.”

“Pops would support your hoax,” Royce said. “I don’t trust him. That man would lie to me. I can sense it.”

“You don’t have to sense it,” Franklin said. “Pops told you as much. Anyway, I usually visit Pops when he comes by his SoCal businesses. I make a day of it. Drag Henry and the kids along. It’s good to visit that part of the country again, well, that part of the Alliance. I gotta start saying it right.”

“How’s your family?” Orson asked. “Is Henry still with the Foreign Service? I should’ve asked an hour ago. I’m sorry, but I see you again, and I’m in danger so that’s all I think about.”

“It’s no problem,” Franklin said. “They’re really good. I got so lucky having a life with them and a good job for a troublemaker like me. Henry’s actually doing work for a global aid nonprofit now. Lots of folks in a bad way. His schedule’s way better, and there’s no conflict of interest with me also doing Alliance work. Our schedules are both flexible enough that one of us can always be there for the kids.”

“That’s awesome,” Orson said. “After how close everything got with Thunderworks, I’m happy it’s going so well for you. Tell Henry I asked about him. And I’m still sorry about the hat.”

“I will,” Franklin chuckled. “And actually, you didn’t lose the hat. You left it with Sirona, and she returned it.” He made a third switch to his lenses. Royce repeated the change, but selected a different pair of lenses, the longest pair on the headset. “You have to visit when you don’t have any warlords or robots trying to kill you, if that ever happens. You haven’t even really met Hazel or Calum yet.”

“Hazel just started walking the last time I saw them,” Orson said.

“Yeah,” Franklin said. “And they’re both in school now. Actually, that leads me back to something I wanted to say to you – I heard about your job offer from Colonel Musgrove. And I think…”

“Cylinder’s moving.” Royce raised his hand. “It’s rotating toward us.” Orson saw the motion then too, the swirls of green changing as the cylinder glided in a slow arc, rotating so its broad side faced them, instead of the middle of the ravine.

“Maybe we were too loud,” Orson said.

“Or they needed permission to do something,” Franklin said. “It’s not like we went all invisible, like they do. Alright, this might be it.”

“Use the Counter Blitz?” Orson asked. “If they attack?”

“Royce doesn’t know that one,” Franklin said. “Sorry, Orson. I didn’t really think to reuse the shorthand. Maybe I should’ve.”

“I didn’t teach the old tricks to my new crew either.” Orson trigged his blaster to arrive in his hand. “Call your play and I’ll follow along. I’m still a pretty quick study.”

“Ars Blastica?” Royce asked. He lifted his Incursion Cannon so the support grip rested beside his left arm.

“Yep,” Franklin said.

“What’s that?” Orson asked. “Some kinda Italian euphemism?”

“Some half-Latin joke.” Franklin nodded. “Ask the former prep kid over there.” He lifted his right index finger to his face.

More motion appeared at the flickering green. The broad side of the cylinder opened outward. Orson saw a squished mass of wriggling white. The interior was filled with more Groom Lake Neighborhood Watchmen – more Buick Jims, all stacked together like spoons in a drawer, rows upon rows of compressed android bodies. Orson tried to count them, but they began to move. He lost his count at fifteen.

One of the front Jims stretched its legs and wriggled free from the stack. It looked almost flat, limbs and face elongated, but they inflated as it stood. Its formerly concave chest cavity filled out when the arms were no longer stored there. The Jim was dressed in black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Its feet were bare. The Jim reached behind its head and, with a tug, removed a long, dripping cord from the back of its bald, earless head.

Then a small bundle fell from the cylinder beside it. The Jim stooped down and unclasped the pile, revealing shoes, an ‘I love Los Vegas’ hat with false ears attached, a jean jacket, and a silver metal case. Behind the first Jim, more moved and stood and stretched.

The first Jim drew a sidearm from the silver case, snub-nosed and without any corporate branding or Hierarchia sigil. Orson assumed blaster. The emitter ended in a point to narrow for most physical projectiles.

“Hello!” the Jim called.

“HELLO!” The other Jims answered, even those who had not yet moved, their voices filling the ravine with bizarre echoes.

“Some game last night!” The first continued. “Some weather we are having! We are the Groom Lake Neighborhood Watch, and there are dangerous people near here.”

“Are you dangerous?” Another Jim collected his ‘Las Vegas 51s’ baseball cap and his own blaster pistol. “Have you seen Captain Orson Gregory?”

“We are going to execute the Orson Gregory.” A third finished.

“Are we planning on letting all of those assassin robots dress themselves?” Royce asked.

“No,” Franklin sighed. “Warm up the Hof. We’ll lay into them. Then, uh, blastica away.” He rested his free hand on Orson’s shoulder. “Ready, Kid?”

“Yeah, I’m getting sick of these guys,” Orson said. “Let’s get rid of them.”

Franklin waited for Royce to press keys on his own wrist device. Then he raised his Incursion Cannon to the lip of rock and opened fire into the growing crowd of Jim androids.