“How do you want to play this?”

Samara crouched in the distance and contemplated the structure before them, housing the most critical components of Avatar society. Once upon a time, they were kept aboard the ACS Theseus, but now that the Clans had settled on New Terra, they’d ferried the computer hardware the digital personalities called home down to the planet’s surface. It was both safer and easier to secure… the corporeal guards manning the defensive perimeter were proof of that… though it seemed unlikely they’d considered the possibility of protecting the site against her own unique talents. At the moment, however, she was addressing more immediate concerns.

… We cannot directly interface with electronic systems, as you well know, Guardian reminded her. We must, therefore, use more subtle means to accomplish our mission.

“I’m all ears,” she snorted. “I assume you have someone on tap for the job?”

… Quaesitor-Theurgist 1st Class Utashi Baadan is the best-qualified cognate for this mission, Guardian assured her. Their skills are unparalleled, with the exception of Athena herself, he said uncomfortably. Should she decide to intervene…

“I don’t think we have to worry about that,” Samara answered. “As long as we don’t threaten her, or her defenses, I think she’ll stay out of it.” I hope, she added, mostly to herself.

… I find it difficult to predict her potential responses in this matter, the cognate said after a moment. She is, to use one of your more colorful phrases, a “Wild Card”.

“So are we,” she chuckled.

… Do not dismiss Athena or her capabilities, Guardian said in reprove. In the brief time I was linked with her through you, I could glean only the merest fraction of her power. I believe that if she so chose, she could easily destroy this world, and everything on it.

“Then it’s a good thing she’s programmed to preserve Terran life, not destroy it,” Samara decided. It was still a risk, of course, but then that was nothing new for them. “How is your cognate going to get in?” she continued, changing the subject.

… Through the careful manipulation of what you refer to as “software”, he explained. It is the only option available to us, since a direct connection is impossible.

”So… they’re a Hacker,” she surmised.

… A crude term, but not inaccurate, Guardian agreed. Utashi Baadan should have no difficulty infiltrating the system and freeing the prisoners, though what follows will prove challenging even for their talents.

“The getaway,” she nodded. “Disconnecting them from the system itself shouldn’t be an issue,” she said candidly, holding up a self-contained data storage unit. “We plug this in, transfer them over, and carry them out. Piece of cake. Problem is when they try to infiltrate the network. You gotta assume the Sibyl will have her own people out in force looking for them… and they can go places we can’t.”

… Utashi Baadan will do their best to safeguard against their efforts, Guardian explained, though your concerns are well founded. As you say, it is an environment for which they are uniquely suited, whereas we are merely intruders, physically incompatible with their realm.

“Not the first time we’ve had to operate in difficult conditions,” she shrugged. “Have my good buddy Cherdor Hosk start warming up for the assault.”

There was a brief pause.

… Samara, after studying this mission, it is my professional judgment that attempting to… juggle?... multiple cognates in order to complete the task at hand presents too great a risk. Therefore, the responsibility of tackling the initial breach of physical security is an exercise I leave solely in your capable hands.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded. “Since when did calling up a freaking cognate suddenly become a problem?”

… The issue lies not with me, or my fellow cognates, Guardian sighed, but with you. More specifically, with the neural plasticity and processing speed of your own cerebral cortex. While we have enhanced your capabilities in this area by infusing nanotechnology into your nervous system, there are limits. Overwriting your neural pathways with a stored cognate places a significant strain on that system. While introducing a single template is a manageable risk, inserting and then withdrawing multiple artificial paradigms risks damaging your basal ganglia and neural synapses. I am heavily invested in your well-being, Samara, and this is a risk I choose not to take.

“Oh, come on,” Samara said in exasperation, “you grew a whole second brain in my chest! You’ve brought me back from the dead countless times! Hell, I’ve had half my head blown off! You’re telling me you can’t fix a few fucking ganglia?”

… Under other circumstances, I would ask if you were an expert in neural architecture, but since we both know you are not, I will simply state that gross physical repairs are a far simpler task than treating systemic endocrinological failure. You forget that prior to our meeting you were not entirely human, that both your physical form and DNA had been radically altered. You are unique, Samara, and therefore a challenge even to our capabilities. Despite what you appear to believe, we are not some all-powerful deity… and neither are you.

That brought her up short. It was true she’d grown to view Guardian and his ilk as… well, not gods, exactly, but perhaps something akin to divine spirits. Well, semi-divine, at least. No matter what she’d needed, or what their current mission required, Guardian had easily provided it. Any skill imaginable, superior strength and healing abilities, increased reflexes, sensory perception far beyond what other humans possessed… you name it, she had it. Discovering at this late date Guardian had reached the bounds of his abilities was a rude awakening.

“Well, I guess I can handle the entry myself,” she said at last, “and I still have a few tricks up my sleeve I didn’t get from you.”

… My thoughts exactly, Guardian concurred. At your convenience.

“Right…” she sighed, taking a moment to prepare. She checked the pistol resting on her hip, seating it firmly in place, and then bowed her head and shifted. If the Clan Leaders hadn’t issued an alert bulletin on her yet, they would rectify that oversight in short order. Approaching the objective while wearing her actual face was too great a risk, so instead, as she approached the facility, she took on the appearance of a taller male figure. With any luck, it would fool the guards until she got closer.

“Halt! Identify yourself!” the guard commander shouted.

“Commandant sent me!” Samara hailed back, giving them a casual wave. “Thought you could use another warm body.”

“Who are you?” their leader demanded.

“Gareth Pran,” she answered, “Corsair.” They were a rough-looking bunch, and while claiming to be a Valkyrie would give her credibility, they were too tightly knit a group for that to stand up for long. Claiming to be a pirate would hopefully buy her a little more time.

He eyed her with suspicion. “What ship?” he pressed her.

Careful now, she cautioned herself, taking a second to run through the ships she’d run across during her travels. “Fafnir,” she finally responded. She was a smaller craft, with an unremarkable history, as she recalled. Hopefully, it would be enough.

His demeanor changed instantly.

“Fafnir died fighting the Yīqún,” he snarled, his hand reaching for his own weapon.

So much for Plan A, she sighed, pulling her pistol free and opening fire before the commander’s could clear his holster. Her shots hit exactly where she aimed… no surprise there… and as he fell, she was already moving, switching targets on the fly. The other guards reacted quickly, as return fire whizzed past her, though a handful of rounds found their mark. Guardian immediately went to work repairing the damaged tissue while she focused her attention on the remaining sentries, taking them down or driving them off in short order. In less than a minute, the way was clear.

The entrance, however, was sealed tight.

“Guardian? We’re on the clock here,” Samara said brusquely, but even as she formed the words, the cognate had already reacted. Once again, the familiar sensation of being gently moved aside while someone else took the reins washed over her, as the new personality settled in.

Utashi Baadan, I presume, she thought to the Precursor now squatting within her mind.

That is correct, they agreed, taking the data storage unit and connecting it to an exterior port. I will require a few moments to familiarize myself with the system’s architecture, during which I will be unable to assist you. It is painstaking work, and I must maintain my focus to ensure success.

In other words, keep the guards from joggling your elbow, she acknowledged. My only question is how you expect me to actually do that if you’re in control.

… I can grant you access to your dominant limb and some of your gross motor functions, Guardian answered before Baadan could respond. It will require constant monitoring in order to balance the various mission requirements, but I am confident it should not prove difficult.

Easy for you to say, Samara snarked back, even as she regained partial control of her body. Her now freed gun hand swept across the perimeter as she quickly discovered she could move her legs and torso enough to take cover, should it prove necessary. Unfortunately, there was another problem.

Guardian, I’m going to need my eyes, she said bluntly. I can’t shoot what I can’t see.

… I’m afraid that Utashi Baadan’s needs take precedence, Guardian informed her. You will simply have to rely on your other senses.

You are really starting to piss me off, she snarled, as the hacker began inputting a series of commands. The hatch unlocked less than a minute later, as they slipped inside. Locking the door behind them, Baadan began heading deeper into the complex, searching for access to the secure servers. The structure’s interior was stark, with bank after bank of mainframes standing like silent sentinels while they housed and safeguarded the whole of Avatar society.

All it would take is a few well-placed shots, Samara mused, and us Terrans would suddenly be short another clan. She didn’t seriously entertain the notion, of course, taking down her own Proteans had been excitement enough for one lifetime. Well… them and the To’uuk. And a decent-sized chunk of the Troika, of course.

You’ve been busy, girl, she chuckled to herself, as her passenger suddenly brought her to a halt before one of the servers.

This one, Baadan informed her, plugging in the data unit and getting to the business at hand. Samara scanned the surrounding corridors and electronics as best she could, but the cognate had full control of her vision once more in order to hack the system. Her other senses were all far beyond average, thanks to Guardian, but humans were a sight-oriented species. Hearing, scent, touch, they were all valuable, but nothing quite beat locking onto a target with your own two eyes.

Hurry it up, she urged the cognate. Baadan ignored her, blithely typing away on the device as he patiently worked his way through the maze of cyberspace. Minutes ticked by as Samara heard the sounds of someone attempting to gain entrance. We’re running out of time! she shouted at the mind sharing space with her own, when suddenly his efforts came to a halt.

Contact, he informed her.

“Nick, darling, you still haven’t told me why we’re here,” Nora pouted. “You promised me a lovely dinner, with drinks and dancing. Instead, we appear to be, if my nose is to be believed, somewhere near the harbor.” She gave the night air a tentative sniff and winced. “... Definitely near the harbor.”

“I swear I’ll make it up to you, “ Nick vowed. “I told an old friend I’d help with a case.”

“Unless it’s a case of twenty-five-year-old single malt Scotch, I may divorce you,” she sniffed, though the twinkle in her eye suggested otherwise.

He put his hand to his chest. “Darling, you wound me. Who will help you spend all your money?”

She linked her arm with his, snuggling close. “Perhaps you can convince me otherwise, back at the hotel,” she purred.

He grinned at that, leaning over to plant a kiss… only for the background scenery to suddenly glitch out before disappearing into blank walls.

“God damn it,“ Alphad swore, dropping the act as the scene dissolved into hash, while Raven simply sighed, “not again.”

“It seems our jailor is still toying with us,” she observed. “Your clan leader really knows how to hold a grudge.”

“I think she sends them out to be bronzed,” the Avatar agreed, “though Chris is taking extra pleasure in torturing us because she thinks I betrayed her.”

“Well…” Raven began.

“I do not want to have this conversation again,” he growled. “I had good reasons for what I did.”

“Said every person ever,” she countered… only for both their heads to snap up at attention as a voice suddenly interrupted their bickering.

“... Alphad Aemon and Raven LaCorbeau,” it announced, “if you wish to escape the confines of your cybernetic prison, we are here to facilitate your departure,” it informed them. Behind them, a doorway materialized, showing the pair an empty corridor. “Time is of the essence. If you wish to be freed from your confinement, then you must hurry.”

“And just who the hell are you?” Alphad demanded. “Is this another one of your tricks, Chris?”

“I am a colleague of Samara,” the voice explained. “We are here to rescue you. But you must come now.”

The pair looked at one another. “Do we trust them?” Raven asked. “What if it’s a trick?”

“Seriously, what would be the point?” Alphad countered. “To screw with us? She’s doing that already.”

Raven started to reply, only to be drowned out by the blare of a klaxon. “My efforts have been discovered,” it informed them. “There is no more time. Either come with us now, or remain here forever. The decision is yours.”

Another look passed between them as they made their decision.

“Promise me we’ll play Nick and Nora again,” she grinned. “They’re fun.”

“I promise,” he smiled, as they took each other’s hand and stepped through the hatch.

Samara fired another round at their attackers, the sound of a scream confirming she’d found her range. What the hell is taking so long? she demanded.

The digital personalities in charge of this facility are now aware of our mission and are attempting to counter my efforts, Baadan explained. Alphad and Raven are making their way to the data storage unit as we speak.

She ducked as a burst of gunfire stitched a nearby bulkhead. We are seriously running out of time here! she snarled at the cognate, when a green light suddenly activated on the device.

We have them, the Hacker apprised her. We may depart at your discretion.

Oh, now we can go, Samara scoffed, as reinforcements arrived to secure the exit. Guardian, I need Cherdor Hosk!

… Agreed, the cognate said unhappily. The situation is rapidly growing untenable.

Glad to see we’re on the same fucking page, she fired back. Hurry!

She felt Utashi Baadan’s withdrawal from her consciousness, back to whatever dreamless sleep defined his existence within the Repository, only to be replaced almost immediately by a familiar presence.

Am I glad to see you, she told the warrior within. Get us out of here!

With pleasure, Cherdor Hosk replied, checking their weapons before bursting out from behind cover, making a beeline for the egress.