The elevator was taking far too long! He knew it wasn't slower than before, but the relative speed was crawling because his mind was in overdrive. A text from Butch was in the top left of his vision. He'd read it twenty-one times.

"Stay away!!! 2dz thugs looking for B. Keep safe." Rusty relayed it to him as he ran to the elevator after getting Belinda settled into her pod.

He had no access to his system as long as he was in the shielded elevator shaft. He'd fix that weak spot in his surveillance later; right now, he had to prepare for what greeted him as he emerged. The lack of signals also affected his loyal troops. He only had Max and three other Roombas with him. They were quiet as they ascended, talking among themselves in beeps and boops, emphasizing the electronic signals they were sending each other. Each had a rudimentary AI system now that was slowly learning. They had progressed slowly under Rusty, with little to do. Now, they were developing much faster, especially when they could communicate with Rusty and use his far greater resources. As soon as they left the elevator, they linked to Milo's systems and down to Rusty.

And they had a request.

"Names? You want names right now? That's fine. You can pick your own and have Max approve. And it has to be something I can say."

While Milo accessed the security cameras and microphones he had placed near Butch's house, the Roombas claimed their names: Lemmy, Dee, and Rob. Rob began broadcasting music to Milo and the other three. Milo had never heard the song 'Electric Eye' before, but it fit the situation. The Roomba's fascination with certain types of music was the legacy of Rusty's friend Jeremy, who had blasted out his favorite songs over the intercom systems while living alone in the abandoned quantum fortress. As Milo learned the words, he found them appropriate and began to hum along as he watched a dozen miniature screens showing the details of what had happened since he'd left the upper floors. He cursed and started running, calling out orders. The quickest path was down a small drop, a large cross tunnel, and an exit into his apartment at the end of the alley near Butch's house.

"Time to go. Charge lasers and keep up with me. Use hologram number three. Plan Beta is in effect, but be prepared to go to Omega if the threat level increases." Milo and his forces raced from the abandoned admin section and headed to battle.

Earlier...

Packing had begun immediately after Mama gave the orders, and messages went out to the rest of the gang. Brad was nervous about leaving his Mother and younger sisters, so Mama told him to bring them along. Likewise, Yumi was bringing her great-aunt, who had raised her after her parents died in an industrial accident. The old woman had trouble walking with her cane, and Yumi asked for help packing their clothes. Brad rushed to help after dropping off his own family in the increasingly crowded apartment.

Also moving through Section E were twenty Volgard mercenaries with Bloggy in the lead. He had lost several men to injuries and strange events; two were stuck in an elevator, several more pinned down by Alchemarx security (or someone posing as them), and he was completely done with people screaming at him with sightings of a girl in a wheelchair who sped away and disappeared like a ghost. She was first seen going to Section E, where she had some known friends among the habrats, so that was where he started. Bloggy's plan was simple: Put pressure on people, rattle some bones, and loosen their lips. Someone knew where the girl was and would talk. As they neared the cul-de-sac where the family had an apartment, he saw three people leave a side alley ahead of them, going the same way: two kids and an old lady. The girl had a bundle of clothing with her and the boy was helping the old woman to move faster.

"Grab them. Now!" Six men sprinted at the startled trio. Brad positioned himself to block and was hit by two men and slammed into a wall, followed by two blows to his abdomen that took away his breath when he struggled. Yumi didn't leave her aunt; the two of them were quickly held by large men wearing light body armor.

"What do we have here? Going somewhere, sweetheart? That's a lot of clothes for one girl. Maybe you're taking them to a friend about your size. Tell me where she is, and you can go, I promise. I'll even add a little cash to compensate for the trouble."

Yumi looked scared, but her aunt's face showed boredom. She looked at Bloggy and shrugged. "It's laundry day. Water costs money, and we save by using a neighbor's wastewater. Do you want to buy some girl's clothing? That's fine. It's not the oddest request I've had. Take the bundle, leave the money, and I don't have to do laundry."

One of the men passed a set of pictures to Bloggy. "That's one of them. She was on the team that played SC6."

Bloggy looked at the old woman. "Yeah, that's why I've been running around this hellhole; I'm buying girls' clothing. Maybe I should buy some girls to go with them. That one with you won't be missed. What do you think?"

"I think I will keep her and her clothes. Now let us go."

Bloggy shrugged. It was never easy at first. People should be more reasonable, then he could be less violent. "Bring them. Let's go ask a few questions." They strolled into the courtyard with the brightly glowing plastic tree. An old man had been sitting near it, playing an ancient Gameboy. He hobbled quickly to his door and shut it firmly. Bloggy motioned for his men to hold the three captives in the middle of the courtyard as he moved to the door and knocked loudly.

"Habitat Security! Open the door. We have some questions for people living in this area."

From inside came Mama's voice, "Not interested in whatever you're selling. Go away."

The merc shrugged; he'd half expected that. "Ma'am, we both know that lock will hold for about one kick, and then I'll be dragging you all out here and making everyone nervous, and the kids will be screaming. So will the three people I have out here, but for different reasons. I'm going to back off ten feet from the door, and you're going to come outside and talk to me. If you don't, I'll break the old woman's arm, then the girl's leg, and after that, the boy won't walk again."

A door at the next apartment opened and then closed just as quickly. From inside could be heard an argument between several adults and younger voices. Finally, a mature female voice yelled them down, and the door opened. Mama stepped out, and the door shut behind her. "You want to talk, fine, but let those three go inside."

Bloggy smiled and motioned to his men, who released Yumi, her aunt, and Brad. He didn't lose anything by letting them go into the apartment. They were trapped there, behind flimsy locks and thin walls. Yumi had to help Brad walk, and the clothing was left in the courtyard. Bloggy walked over and dumped the bag, kicking it around. "Seems like someone in that house needed some spare clothing. I suspect her first name starts with a B. Why don't we talk about her."

Mama laughed, scorn in her voice. "You think those were for Belinda? Like that girl would wear habitat trash clothing. She only comes here to slum a little and piss off her step-father. The idiot keeps yelling and telling her no, and she does it to get a rise out of him. She shows up in a wheelchair that could buy an air-car and gets waited on hand and foot by her two attendants. I don't mind because my husband works for Manpower and gets a monthly bonus in his pay. But wear those clothes? That tells me you don't know Belinda at all. I'll tell you what I told the other three groups that came by: Haven't seen her, and hope I don't. That girl is trouble. Too much trouble."

"So what's going on? Some sleepover? A nice little party in that oversized apartment?"

Mama rolled her eyes. "Not hard to guess. You folks are scaring people. The kids are nervous and playing games at my place. They'll be staying here where we have a working food processor until it's safe to go to the cafeteria and the school."

Bloggy turned to his men. "See? I told you there'd be a logical answer to explain things." They all nodded and smiled. Then he pivoted suddenly, spinning back to Mama and hitting her with the back of his hand hard enough to knock her down. She crumpled against the wall with a darkening cheek and blood flowing from her mouth and nose. She glared up at the man who had hit her and spit blood on the floor. But her eyes were narrowed, and she was angry, not scared.

He yelled at the door. "I'm going to start hitting this woman until I get some answers. Either tell me where Belinda Seimovich is hiding or bring her out. If you don't like the sound of me hitting her, come out and take the blows for her. But someone is getting hurt if I don't get answers!"

He grabbed Mamma's arm to lift her up, raising his hand to hit her. There was a flash of light, and his hand disappeared as a narrow beam, high-intensity laser boiled his blood and caused a small explosion while charring what was left. Bloggy screamed as a figure slid to a halt from a sprint down a dead-end hallway. Short in stature, the figure was clad in body armor, the envy of every mercenary or professional soldier. Layers of iridium-graphene plates covered them completely, glistening in the light of the glowy tree like modern day dragon scales. Rat-like ears swiveled in their direction, and oversized black lenses stared at them. Behind him came four other figures, monstrous robots with ominously glowing cyclopean eyes.

A deep and ominous voice addressed them. "I'm giving you one chance. One small chance to. Drop to the ground and lie very still, or none of you are walking away from this."

Bloggy started screaming, "Shoot the bastards!" Men pulled guns from inside their coats.

The strains of drums, piano, and electric guitars swelled as Milo and his soldiers surged forward to the sound of Elton John screaming out, 'Saturday Night's All Right for fighting.'